a firey heart // demelza shim one shot

Demelza’s lungs screamed for air. With each stride she took as she ran through the pristine white landscape, the tips of her fingers tingling in the cold, a blazing fire was fueled inside the center of her chest. She almost felt like she was drowning and no amount of air the gulped down with each inhale could stifle the raging fire within her chest. Her head span like the flittering snow that danced across the ground carried by the echoing breeze and with one final gasp, Demelza crumbled to the snow sending a shower of freshly powdered snow swirling around her.

Her whole body shivered with the cold and with the fear that pumped through her veins, her shoulders heaved with each gulp of air. Her cheek stung against the cold, the warm blood that had swelled there clung to her cheek as it slowly froze against the freckled skin there. Demelza did not feel present, she felt as if she were watching herself from the outside, curled up in the drifting snow amongst tilting trees, hollow of life that should have flourished on them if this arena had not been kept in the grasp of an eternal winter. She looked so small against the blank landscape, a small child atop of massive cotton sheet of which she could not find the edge too.

Closing her eyes tightly, Demelza listened to the thudding of her own heartbeat filling her head. It was almost calming, her panicked flutter of her heart drumming inside her chest. It had calmed some from when she had been amongst the fray, the stench of blood filling the air as it began to stain the crystal earth. The thunder of the four canons that had seemingly filled the world still rang in her ears- leaving an almost hollow feeling in her chest when she thought of the omen that the sound bought with it.

Four, the thought tumbled carelessly through her mind, breaking the blockade of white noise that swirled around her with uncertainty of waves on a stormy sea. Her stomach churned, contorting itself within her as her mind filled with the images of the dead lying in the snow as the snow turned red, blood seeping and crawling, infecting the flakes of ice like it were a weed. She hadn't seen who had died, it had all been a blur of white, red and the occasional flash of colour as another tribute passed in front of her vision, moving quickly as they all danced to avoid the punishing grasp of death. Though it didn't matter who had died- what mattered was that there were only 20 of them left.

Still, as the tether on her heart tugged in desperation to bring her home, the escape seemed no more closer to her reach. It was the door, at the end of the long corridor, glowing and beckoning her. It was miles away, and with each step it seemed like she was making no progress towards it. She was so far away that she could seldom make out the details of the door itself. For now, it was only a small rectangular shape at the end of the long corridor and from beyond it she could just hear the thrum and beat of home. Her heart ached for it, to be home. Those four had bought her a step closer, but she still had a long way to go.

First, she would have to survive the bitter cold.

Demelza shivered, her hands grasping at her sides in desperation to feel some empathy of warmth but she could feel the cold seeping into her and if she stayed there a moment longer she was certain that she would become a statue of ice, her body crystallizing beneath the watchful faces of the moon. Her breathing choked on the cold as she sharply inhaled, her chest tightening as her chest filled with icy wind. Get up. Her own voice demanded. Her brow furrowed neatly at her own voice before she was crippled by another shiver rocking through her body as the wind gusted around her. Get up Shim! Her voice said, demanding again.

This time, her limbs seemed to listen. Like she was being led by some unseen puppeteer in the corner of her mind, Demelza slowly opened her eyes as she pushed herself to her feet shakily, careful not to push her hands into the delicate snow around her to push herself up. Instead she braced herself on her knees, moving one leg up and then the other. Her bad leg burnt with pain in protest as she stood, the cut threatening to reopen as she moved from a crouch to a standing position. Demelza gritted her teeth, doing her best to ignore the pain and move on. Demelza's blue eyed gaze scanned the new environment she found herself in.

The mountain still loomed over her, a soft wind dancing over its peak. As she scanned the horizon, she could just about make out the glisten of the cornucopia but her gaze quickly moved to the ghostly trees that surrounded her. Every tree was missing half of its furs, slightly tilting in the same direction. It was as if a great wind had blown for millennia, for thousands of years until the trees had grown deformed. She moved slowly through the half bare forest, eyes flittering around for some sign of life. All there was the flagging trees, an occasional distant crack as the weight of snow on a branch caused it to snap under its weight. Her whole body was on edge, she couldn't see anyone else, no one chasing her. She breathed a sigh of relief. The sense of loneliness she felt in that moment was a welcoming one, still every noise made Demelza flinch, instinctively going for the pair of crampons she had tied to her rucksack for ease of access and very occasionally, a whisper of a distant fight carried on the wind.

The blonde decided it was best to stay put. If she ventured in any direction she might find herself running into someone or something else. Setting her backpack on the ground beside her, Demelza moved as quickly as her freezing joints allowed her to do so, collecting twigs and branches which had fallen from the trees that sprouted from the snow around her. Her frozen finger tips, slowly turning blue as if a dainty blue glove was slowly sewing itself into her very skin, worked at the snow, pulling out branches and twigs that had been burried by snow, chewing at her cheek each time her fingers dug into the icy cold substrate of snow. It had been one of the first things she had learnt about from training- one of her very first acts she had been taught to do with the cruel promise of near impossible survival. First find shelter- the trees provided some semblance of protection from the wind but Demelza knew it might not be enough. Then, with carrot dangling overhead, she had been taught to find water which wouldn't be hard in this arena. Then, a showstopper to the first act of her game, she had been told to make a fire.

While some tributes had neglected the station, Demelza had found herself there most of the time. She'd dabbled in self defense and how to create her own weapon, something she had revelled in being able to create something from her own hands even though it was not as nimble or delicate as the cross stitching or clothing she was used to. Fire making had been her match made, and it wasn't til the very last day that her technique had made anything more than a puff of smoke. As Demelza pressed a.stick against the raw innard of a branch she had chopped in half by smacking against another tree, she prayed that it worked.

She let out a half hearted laugh as the branch slowly smoked, igniting into a gentle ember that burnt softly, slowly growing as she added twigs and then branches as the fire slowly bloomed into a beautiful orange flower made of flame. Her whole body sighed at the warmth that sprouted from her little fire, and she sank to the floor as close to the flames as she could. Her whole body felt like it was scalding, her skin tingled as the heat lapped at her skin. It was a blessing in the icy cold, the flames hungrily devouring the branches she had put on as the wind fueled them. Demelza closed her eyes and for a moment she imagined the heat of the fire was that if the sun. It was only when she felt the cold creeping along her back, tugging at her where the warmth of the fire could not reach, that she was reminded that she was stuck here in the land of the midnight sun.

Pulling her knees to her chest, Demelza's gaze hardened as she watched the flames echo the movement of the breeze. “I will go home” she whispered to herself, pressing her hand to her chest where she had tucked her token.

But how she would go home she did not know.

table by Briar