avalanche // hubris vs. yeti and ghull, day 2

The fragility of life flaunted itself in her face that day, when Mordecai’s scarred hands wrapped themselves around an innocent feline. She couldn’t believe her lure had been successful; she felt resourceful, victorious, and stood up to meet the flailing creature as it sank its claws into Mordecai’s shirt. The Mortuuses had never bothered themselves with owning a pet. They had the money, the resources, but crime was not the easiest life, nor was it the most privileged despite how Twelve thought of them. With starving children prowling the streets to hunt anything that moved, a pet had never crossed their minds.

It was frantic in Mordecai’s grasp. To settle the poor thing, she cupped a handful of cat food and brought it up to his nose. A peace offering in exchange for cooperation, though she knew how cruel it was. She stroked it behind the ears as its sandpaper tongue scratched the surface of her palm – rough and soft. Mordecai and Hyacinth.

When it was soothed, she plucked it from Mordecai’s shoulder and cradled it against her chest. It purred and prodded her fingers with its nose, enticed by the perfume of Valerian root left staining her skin. She noticed the collar around its neck and read the tag.

Buttercup.

Like the flower, gold and glorious. It stared up at her with green eyes like the wild forests in Twelve, guarded by an electric fence that never worked. Maintenance was long overdue, but nobody cared enough to stop the desperate children from running to their deaths outside. Animals crawled in and out, feral cats included.

This one didn’t seem feral, just lost.

”I’ve decided not to eat you,” she cooed, listening to the vibrations against her ribcage. This was not a mutation designed to kill and hunt – it was a scavenging cat, forced to suffer in this unknown landscape with the rest of the tributes. Killing it seemed ill-mannered, like something Celia would do. Why not earn its trust instead? Another companion to support her sanity. When she lost the others, she would need someone to console with if she was still breathing. The alternative was releasing it, but perhaps that was as much sentencing it to death as breaking its neck right here. She had cat food, clothes, and an ounce of warmth in her icy core. She was its best hope.

While she found friendship in felines, the righteous Ansgar found companionship with a rat. Their stark differences were apparent with every breath they took, and every step they made toward the treacherous bottom of the rift. Fortunately, conquering their fears paid off – they were rewarded with a stream at the bottom, and filled their water skins to their brinks. A campsite location was a matter of convenience now. With so many rocks to cast shadows across their bodies, it was easy to find a comfortable patch of stone to sleep on. As the earth dug into Hyacinth’s spine, Buttercup settled in the scarf she had laid nearby. No doubt he was enamored by the smell lingering upon her clothing, but she was okay with an artificial friendship. Meaningless relationships were her forte.

She stroked his fur as the anthem blared between two rock towers. Drake’s face frowned at her, voice accompanying the haunting image of his vitality fading ”When you get back to the Capitol, can you tell Kirito that I guess I wasn’t quite ready to survive yet.”

You’ve told him already.

To assume she would return home was a mistake in logical thinking. There was no confirmation that she would even wake up tomorrow. Why was there such misplaced faith? She didn’t want to feel that she owed him something. He was gone, and fulfilling a wish would mean nothing to the dead.

A night of restless anxiety before the bloodbath left traces of fatigue between every fiber in her body. It lulled her to sleep along with Buttercup’s purrs and Mordecai’s breaths. She was certain she had spotted Ansgar muttering a prayer, and it didn’t surprise her – he was an odd boy with an odd fixation on something nobody could prove existed, yet his faith made him sturdy. Perhaps even more sturdy than she was.

Without saying goodnight, she turned over and succumbed to a sleep’s temptation. It could be her last.

She awoke to Buttercup rummaging through her leather pouch, trying to bite into her bag of cat food. She tsk’d like a protective parent and rolled over to offer him a handful. As he crunched away, she turned around to find Asngar praying again. ”Pray for Buttercup too,” she said, only halfway sincere. ”That’s his name.” She had sensed days ago that other tributes took her too seriously. She had a cold demeanor, a deadpan voice, and her sister was the devil. She supposed she couldn’t blame them for taking her words to heart, but not everything about her was intimidating.

She sat with her legs crossed, forcing them to wait until Buttercup finished his breakfast. The sounds of running, trickling stream water relaxed her, and she wished she could stay here if the walls weren’t so narrow. Too much time spent here, she imagined, and it would seem as if the earth was suffocating them.

Butterup fit snugly into her pouch, front paws poking out with the occasional whisker twitch as they climbed to the skies. The air was fresher and dryer on the surface, as if they had emerged from a prison. Now she didn’t regret leaving a place so close to hell.

The opposite was ahead of them – a mountain reaching for the heavens, as crooked as Mordecai’s fingers.

As they drew closer, the dark clouds made themselves apparent as they swirled around the drooped peak. Everything about it screamed dangerous, like a path from a children horror story, but landscapes always deceived. Something as beautiful as the ocean could swallow them up, and a tribute could be lurking behind every tree. No place was safe.

It was quiet; quiet enough to hear a feather drop, and enough to hear the echo of thunderous footsteps. Too large to be human, she thought, and she was right. Along with howling winds came a blundering white beast with canines like swords, and she knew this was what the end could look like. Snow stained red with blood, a creature devouring her and everything she had worked for.

”Don’t move,” she whispered to her allies.

It made no move to retreat.

This mutt was out for blood, so she lowered her pouch to safety and charged.

”Nevermind!”