The Boodbath

and if you're still breathing,
you're the lucky ones.

"You'll be okay, sweetie."

As one dark silhouette after the other dashes away from us and out of eyesight, I let my axe fall from my clenched fists. My hands are shaking as I gasp, eyes still streaming with tears. They gather on my lips, salty to my tongue as I pull in a shaking breath. I don't want to look at it. I heard the crack, feel the fire in my blood as it pulses through my leg—I'm no medical expert, but even I know it's broken.

It takes all my willpower to even take a quick glance. Looking at the angle of my bone makes me want to cry harder. My leggings are torn, I can see blood glistening slick and dark as oil in the moonlight, and as bend and twist to take off the boots zipped up to my knees, I can't manage to stifle the small yelp of pain that comes along with it.

I push my hat back off my head, sweat beading all over my forehead and curling a few stray pieces of my hair. Sweat trickles down my spine, shivers begin to control my muscles, and I wish I wasn't so scared or so helpless, but--

"My knee--" I squeak.

My eyes catch on a headstone. Etched into tilted grave is the name 'Glacia Eon', vines crawling up, around, and through the rest of the epitaph beneath her name. I fall silent, eyes finally taking in my surroundings. Graves are scattered all around me, pumpkins crushed underfoot reeking of death and rot, and under the moonlight the cornucopia looks like it's from a fantasy tale—a giant pumpkin, far taller than even some of the trees standing crooked in the distance.

Something snaps near me and I didn't know I was so uneasy until I'm scrambling for the flashlight I managed to grab and whirling it around in the direction of the sound with wide eyes and a racing heart.

I catch a mermaid in its beam. And I'm not sure what the theme of all these tribute uniforms is this year, but based on what I've seen thus far, they really are not going for functionality—or uniformity for that matter. Clearly more of a-- well, I guess girls dressed in fancy ballroom gowns and what amounts to nothing more than a bathing suit aren't going to decrease viewing...

"I know I’m hot, but can we not shine the light right in my eyes? Thanks."

"Ah," I fumble with the light, nearly dropping it as I rush to switch it off.

"Sorry."

She still scares me. Maybe even more so now that she is mostly naked. Especially with that spear in her hand and one of the most disgusted scowls on her face as she looks herself over. Pretty sure if Hayden wasn't right by my side holding me up she would've decided it was best just to stab me in the eye.

"Well that was a lot easier than I expected."

Cynthia appears just over my shoulder, making my heart stop and my hand clench tight at Hayden's shoulder. I really need to calm down. But my mind just keeps drifting back to the throbbing pain in my knee, a reminder that getting anywhere from now on is going to require some help. Of course I already knew these girls would be in charge, that they would carry me for as long as they still felt I was useful for something, but I hadn't planned on not being able to walk. Or run from whatever is lurking in the woods.

"Good job," she says, looking to me. "You didn't suck."

That's enough to warrant a bit of pained laughter.

"My kneecap disagrees with you."

Just as I force the beginnings of a smile onto my face, a screech rips through the dark. I jump, clutching at Hayden's arm and shrinking behind her as my heart leaps into my throat. The screech ends before my frantic eyes can find the source, an echo following in its wake. Chest heaving and eyes wide I try to find words, but all that comes to mind is the obvious question: What was that?

I stay silent as my heart calms. Something tells me that these girls don't really have the tolerance for stupid questions. I'm not brave enough to drop Hayden's arm though. I don't really care how weak it makes me look.

I'm terrified.

"Can we get out of here?"

cause most of us are heaving
through corrupted lungs.

[dars]

do not go gentle
into that
good night

And just as quickly as it had began, it was over.

The last holdout, a young girl from some middle district - Six, maybe, drunk off of their surprising upset from the year before? - runs off, and a quiet calm surrounds the giant pumpkin. The only bodies left - living or deceased, she notes - are their own.

The battle high had not quite settled down, but she grins nevertheless.

They had won the wealth without so much as a single blade touching her skin.

Hayden and Mariela were not so lucky - the girl had landed a solid strike on each of them before the plucky girl from Nine had dealt the decisive blow to drive her away - but their wounds were hardly anything to be worried over. A single gash could be stitched up, a broken leg set - by tomorrow they'd be virtually good as new.

Didn't hurt that virtually no one had bothered to claim the stash of medical supplies in the chaos, either.

Her grin grew. Twenty minutes into the Games, and the odds were already tipping heavily in their favor.

They'd let their guard down in the calm, the knowledge that tributes almost never returned to the Cornucopia so shortly after the bloodbath satisfactory armor for the moment. Hayden and Mariela were predictably conjoined at the hip, the former supporting the latter. Hayden's in an outfit much like hers, only it's blue where hers is black and perhaps not quite as extravagant as her own - a duchess, maybe? Or a princess? - while the girl from Nine is likewise dressed in black, complete with gloves and boots that leave little skin showing, and a long, pointed black hat.

"Do you think someone will get me a new dress?" Hayden asks in a somewhat concerned tone, the fact that her outfit had gotten torn clearly a more pressing matter than the gash along her thigh.

Her grin transforms into her trademark smirk before she responds. "Well, now that you've mentioned it, I wouldn't be surprised if we wake up to half a dozen decorating our campsite tomorrow morning," she quipped.

Careers were popular sponsor targets. Wealth winners were also popular sponsor targets. And Careers that won the wealth? Well, she got the idea.

Mariela has lit a flashlight in the meantime, catching a figure that could only be Samson in its glare - except that the girl from Four was wearing an outfit that looked more suited for the island arena that had been featured the previous year as opposed to the literal graveyard that they were walking in, a fashion choice that she did not appear to appreciate in the least.

"I know I’m hot, but can we not shine the light right in my eyes? Thanks," comes the snide remark, and Mariela lets out a little cry of fright as she fumbles to turn it off.

She withholds the sarcastic retort on the tip of her tongue - now was not the time for escalation, after all - and instead closes the distance between her and the other two members of their alliance pact.

"Well that was a lot easier than I expected," leaves her lips as she positions herself behind Mariela, the truth of the statement surprising even her. Sure, she'd been confident about their chances at the start - none of the other three Careers had teamed up, after all - but even with that in mind the Bloodbath had seemed even shorter than usual.

Probably something to do with the survival instinct, she concluded. Not that it would save any of them in the days to come.

She turned towards the girl from Nine, expression cool but not unwelcome. "Good job," she found herself saying. "You didn't suck."

That earned a laugh, albeit an uneasy one, from the sole non-Career of their little group. "My kneecap disagrees with you," she responds, earning a snort. One broken leg was hardly a death sentence as long as you weren't alone - and in this situation, it was a mark of pride, courtesy of the girl that had driven the stubborn tribute from Six away.

They were a motley group - from her and Hayden in their royalty dresses to Samson in her tail fin and seashell bra to Mariela in her witch's outfit, but they had overcome the first major challenge the Games had flung their way - and they had done it with ease.

Her smirk transformed into something more genuine. The Games were just beginning, but things were already looking up.

rage, rage
against the
dying of the light

[dars]