a heathen's home | {reese/jenoah/hyacinth} day five

They trekked away from the feast and its two casualties, the rift engulfed by shadows. When Hyacinth peered between the two rock towers she could see streaks of pink and orange, signifying the sun’s escape into the night, but she did not see the sun itself. It was a pity; if tonight was her last night, she would miss something beautiful from this world. Instead, they were trapped between two walls, scaling crooked rock paths to stray as far away from other tributes as possible. When the earth rumbled, she thought an earthquake would shatter the ground beneath their feet and crush them like insects. No such disaster happened. It only sounded as if the earth was growling in hunger, and this place had an appetite for death.

Her face ached from the fracture, chin wrapped in bandages to keep her jaw as tight as possible. She could speak with difficulty, but chose to embrace silence. The stitches in her neck began to itch beneath old dressings, so her walk was spent fussing with everything until Buttercup mewled from inside of her pouch. They found shelter beneath overhanging rocks, and she immediately scooped a handful of cat food for his dinner. Her own stomach felt hollow, but she knew how long she would survive without a bite to eat. Everyone in Twelve knew their own lifespan without food. It was essential knowledge, or else the children in the Seam would wither away. So many of them had already.

She sat against a smooth rock and listened to Buttercup’s crunching. Eyes closed, she waited for the anthem to play. Mordecai wasn’t here to hold her hand, and Mitchell wasn’t here to encourage her. It was just another day of hell, more droning on as a tribute who didn’t know her own fate. When the music blared, she opened her eyes and tilted her head back. Faces were squeezed between the cliffs of the rift, but they were brighter than a full moon. She could see the first one clearly; a career boy, and she felt relieved. One less terror to worry about.

The second death, Deja Hatcher, helped her match a name to a face. She grabbed the Queen of Hearts card from within her bag, wondering if it could reign true. She had not sentenced Deja to die, not officially. Another boy had thrown the dagger, ensuring she would bleed out if nobody else intervened. Piercing her heart had been a mercy kill. Did the queen of hearts deliver mercy?

Maye followed the line of deaths, her voice practically unforgettable. She felt close to nothing about these tributes. They were once people, once citizens living in their own districts trying to survive, and now they were corpses. She had already realized they would be corpses long ago. There was no reason to feel sorrow over it.

When the final face flashed across the sky, she crumpled the paper card within her hand. She should’ve expected it, a self-sacrificing fool like Mitchell. The closer you are, the more it hurts. She had hoped to hear his voice one more time, and now the queen of hearts had her own heart to worry about.

”Don’t die, Hyacinth Mortuus.”

I’ll try.

She smoothed out the disheveled card and tucked it into her bag. The queen of hearts would not die with him. Home was gone, but she wasn’t. There was still a chance to steal every heart in this arena and leave hers beating the loudest. With newfound energy, she hoisted her pouch, grabbed Buttercup, and waited for the others to fall asleep. The sound of Buttercup’s purrs relaxed her, and it was comforting to know that despite abandoning her allies she would still have company. The numbers were dwindling, after all. She needed to leave before they decided she was expandable, and before she felt the same about them.

Maneuvering a dangerous, rocky path in the dark proved a nuisance. Every step was calculated and cautious to avoid stumbling over edges. When the stars were almost within arm’s reach, she found a small cavern to rest in.

Nobody found her.

Morning light brought her back to the surface, where she inhaled a breath of fresh air and turned her back toward the crooked mountain and its marvelous beasts. There was new land to explore, new hearts to steal, and hopefully another day for her to live. Gloom compacted itself above her head, threatening another day of rainfall, but she didn’t care. Ice water would be medicine for her fractured jaw.

The sun was smothered by grey clouds, but something glowed in the distance. A flurry of colors that reminded her of the Capitol and their ridiculous ensembles. It was beautiful, and therefore she anticipated a trap. Still, she ventured toward the field of treasures until her feet were planted against granite. She paused and listened. There was no wind to whistle in her ears.

Only footsteps.

They were distant, but she heard voices to match. She turned around and spotted two boys, one who had scrambled around blind the day before, and the other – Mordecai’s killer. She watched the blind one hurl his knife, the intent to kill etched deeply into his features, only to fall short. She blinked once and heard a disturbing squelch. The blind boy now had a blade protruding from his eye.

Cannon fire, and he was gone.

She guessed they hadn’t noticed her, but she stepped toward the boy with her sword in hand. However, she halted before she was within ten feet of him, and thrust her blade into the dirt. Nonthreatening. She didn’t want a fight, she wanted answers.

”How did Mitchell die?”

[Hyacinth flees]