Chapter Text
“This doesn’t even make any sense. Why couldn’t I just measure the paper once it’s folded? How do you even tell top, bottom, left, and right once you fold it enough times? Why are we even folding a paper this many times in the first place?”
Kotlin didn’t answer right away, instead leaving Hewlett to absently kick the table leg before tilting the chair back with a dreadfully heavy sigh, one much too beleaguered for an eleven-year-old.
Kotlin eyed the teetering chair legs. “You’re going to fall if you lean back too far.”
Hewlett ignored him. “I don’t get why I need to do this. Like, I mean, I get why, kind of, but I just– In what world am I going to be needing to do any of this?! I know how to measure a piece of paper, why can’t they find a better example to use that won’t make me lose my mind??”
“It’s not about the specific example, Hewlett.” Kotlin sighed, running his hand over his face. “It’s about knowing how to do the steps to show you can do the math in theory.”
“Yeah, yeah, show my work, I know.” Hewlett rolled his eyes. “They should just use an example that’s not so easily solvable with a ruler.”
After a few more seconds of silence, Hewlett let the chair fall forward again, barely reacting to the jolt of it hitting the ground as he returned his sights to the piece of paper in front of him.
“I should just fold this paper and hand that in, maybe she’d actually understand how stupid of a question that is if I did.”
“Okay, okay, enough with the paper, do you need help with the actual math involved? Because it’s a lot of the same stuff we worked on last week, it’s just a matter of–”
“No, I got it, don’t worry.” Hewlett insisted, hovering closer to the paper to hide it from view. Kotlin took the moment to glance around until his eyes fell upon the remaining sheets, that would likely have to be rushed at the current rate things are going. Math was one of those middle of the road subjects, tutoring wise. It was make or break depending on the student in question. If they liked it? Easy! They were usually eager to know the different formulas, and Kotlin was more than thrilled to teach them. If they didn’t like it, however, then things were usually a bit difficult. Not impossible, far from impossible in fact, just a bit more like pulling teeth.
At least Wylan Fawkes paid well, being a victor and all. Hewlett and Libra were good kids, and he had been enjoying tutoring them for the past few semesters.
It took a few minutes, but Hewlett eventually pulled away from the paper, picking it up and handing it over for Kotlin to read over. He eyed it, doing the math in his own head. Engineering was his main speciality; however, Kotlin had been scoring near perfect marks across the board from the time he was six years old, meaning he was the top candidate when he applied to become a tutor for some of the younger and less skilled students within District 3.
It wasn't a particularly flashy job, at least for the time being, but at least it was something he enjoyed. Having an excuse to teach and inform others was always optimal.
Finishing the equation, Kotlin concluded that the math checked out; Hewlett went about it in a somewhat unconventional way, but the answer was indeed correct. However, was the teacher expecting him to do it via a particular method? There wasn't any noted there to the title or description of the worksheet, so he'd have to go back and see if he can parse out any particular through line within the questions themselves.
As he went to pass the paper back to Hewlett, Kotlin was surprised to see Hewlett huddled over his desk, head in his folded arms.
“Hey,” Kotlin assured him, “you got the answer right.”
Hewlett pried himself up just enough to make eye contact with him, then glanced at the paper.
“Do you… do you think any of this will matter, in a few years?”
Well, that was sudden. Kotlin shifted uncomfortably on his seat. He wasn't expecting Hewlett to get into a philosophical crisis over a simple paper measuring problem within a fifth grade math worksheet.
Regardless of his reluctance to engage with this conversation, Kotlin pried further. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, well…” Hewlett sat up. “I'm probably going to end up in the games or something, right? I gotta expect it, at least. This won’t help me, not if I get picked to go. I wish I could just learn something more useful.”
Kotlin pondered it for a moment. On one hand, it was very unlikely that Hewlett would be reaped during any average year. Being the son of a victor, he had no need for tesserae. The kid wasn’t even turning twelve until next year, this shouldn’t even be something he was worrying about!
However, it wasn’t exactly a secret that the victors from District 3 didn’t have the best track record as far as it came to keeping their kids out of the games. Of the three past victors who had kids at all, two of them had at least one of them go into the arena, with none to make it out alive. The first victor, Ampersand, had his oldest son, Hyphen, go into the games at sixteen. Beetee lost both of his children, one in the second quarter quell. The only exception was Blitza, who’s one and only child passed through reaping age while the Capitol was apparently too preoccupied with tormenting Beetee. With Wylan as the fourth victor to have children, and the only victor currently alive to have children at all, that put Hewlett in a pretty tough spot.
Indeed, it was entirely possible. And Kotlin didn’t know what to say to that.
“Uh… hey,” he offered, “It’s not very likely. Statistically speaking, you’re more likely to get struck by lightning twice in the same day.”
“... I know. That’s how it works, in theory…” Hewlett replied.
“And besides, you need to know math either way. The more you know instinctively, the more you can do on the spot in a tough situation. You never know, maybe the measurements of a folded piece of paper will mean life or death someday. So let’s get the rest of this worksheet finished, yeah?”
“Sure. That works.”
—
Reaping day for the one hundred and second hunger games arrived only a week later, being accompanied by what was unfortunately stormy weather, rain blowing across the road as he approached the reaping square.
His jacket only did so much to avoid the rain, his shoes and lower legs of his pants thoroughly soaked by the time he signed in.
Surprisingly this year, it seemed the Capitol cared just enough to make sure the tributes were a little less miserable this year. Some makeshift shelters had been constructed over each of the sections, providing at least some respite from the downpour. They weren’t perfect; in fact, if the wind got any more violent Kotlin was concerned they might topple over and crush an entire demographic of the District. But at least the Capitol understood the basic concept of “people don’t like to be in the rain”, something which he had assumed they were too caught up in mindless pageantry to pay much attention to.
Hurrying to his section, Kotlin ducked in and weaved his way through the crowd until he made it to some familiar faces.
Java was the first to greet him, offering a friendly wave as they settled into a cluster. Edison joined in immediately after, readjusting the hood of his jacket.
“What a way to send us off, huh?” Edison asked, eyeing the sky through the clearing. “Could’ve been a little sunnier.”
Kotlin wasn’t particularly worried, whether about the weather or his reaping odds, all things considered. His family had grown up in relative comfort, his parents having worked hard to provide for Kotlin and his older sisters. Their work had paid off, and none of them had ever needed to take tesserae throughout their youth. Realistically, the chances of him being selected were pretty low, so he was certain he was one of the least stressed of the kids here today.
The conversation shifted to something Kotlin wasn’t particularly interested in. Instead, Kotlin took a step to the side, turning to glance around at the other attendees. If Gadget arrived and saw him talking to Edison, Kotlin wouldn’t hear the end of it.
It seemed to take way too long for the event to start. It wasn’t until Abundia, the escort, scurried onto the stage flocked by assistants all wielding much too frilly umbrellas that he finally figured out why.
“Hello, District Three!” Abundia called, smiling so forcefully that it was almost a sneer. “This is such a…. Pleasant morning, isn’t it?”
No response.
Abundia’s smile only grew defiantly wider. “Welcome to the reaping of the one-hundred and second annual Hunger Games! As always, I, Abundia Yaxley, will have the honor of selecting one lucky girl and boy to represent your district in the Capitol’s wonderful tradition!”
Yeah, yeah, whatever. Kotlin filtered out the noise as Abundia continued her speech. He couldn’t wait for this to finally be over. It was always such a waste of time. He could be working on actually important things at this time of day if it weren’t for this pointless ceremony they had to idle around every single year.
He clocked back into reality just as Abundia was wrapping up, approaching the bowl filled with girl’s names. Really, he could just ignore this too, since Dio and Cath were both multiple years aged out of the pool. But regardless, he at least listened in a bit out of politeness. It could be a school peer. It could be someone he tutored.
“Ronna Zobrinsky!”
It wasn’t anyone he recognized, at least. Kotlin scanned the other side until he spotted a girl with wild brown curly hair step out from the section of twelve to fourteen year olds. She kept her pace quick, keeping her exposure to the rain at a bare minimum until she climbed the stage and realized that there were no further sources of cover in place to keep the tributes from getting wet. Giving up, Ronna took her place with a scowl.
As Abundia went to retrieve the second name, Kotlin took a glance around. While he wasn’t particularly concerned about himself, he knew some of his friends might not be so fortunate. This was their last reaping, after all, so if anything was to go wrong, it’d be now.
“Kotlin Verd!”
As with any other unexpected wrench that took him by surprise, Kotlin was left blindsided to the point where he had to be shoved by the boy beside him in order to snap back to reality.
Somehow, he made his way out of the crowd to the center walkway, where the rain once again attacked him. At the very least, it gave him something else to despise other than the Capitol sending him to his death.
—
The train’s overpowering air conditioning left Kotlin feeling awfully chilled, shivering slightly as he tried to figure out where he could sit with still-damp clothing.
Ronna clearly didn’t care about that, instead immediately plopping herself down upon a nearby armchair that lacked any arms.
Since the older victors from District 3 were all dead, only Wylan and Relay remained to greet them after the train departed.
Two things stuck out to Kotlin: first, Wylan kept avoiding his gaze, and looked like he hadn't slept in a month. Second, Relay's prosthetic eye this year was a bright teal. How… colorful?
A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed as the two pairs gawked at each other. Finally, Wylan spoke.
“Kotlin, Ronna. The staff have been kind to you, yes?”
Well, they hadn’t really interacted with anyone yet, and Abundia had vanished off elsewhere the moment they boarded, but the two of them nodded regardless.
“That’s good to hear.” Wylan glanced away.
It was then Kotlin suspected why Wylan seemed at a loss for words. He already knew Kotlin, at least a little. To introduce himself to Ronna and not him would be… maybe not suspicious, but maybe a bit awkward, and it would bring up questions. Would it be a bad look to make it clear they knew each other?
Kotlin decided that it was best if they kept that information under wraps for now. But that also meant Wylan wouldn't be mentoring him. Relay would. And…
To be honest, Kotlin wasn’t that thrilled at the idea of Relay mentoring him. Really, he wasn’t even sure if it could be called mentoring, considering how little Relay actually contributed to his own victory. Relay won the ninety-fifth games at fourteen, but there were some asterisks attached to that statement. He spent most of the games on death’s doorstep after straight up forgetting where he and his district partner put their own traps along the outskirts of their camp, resulting in several serious wounds to half of his face, chest, and left arm after clumsily setting one off. He barely clung to life thanks to the doting aid of his district partner, and had to be dragged to the final fight, where he finally got to do something of value by pushing the sole remaining competitor off of a boardwalk into rapids after the career had managed to kill his alliance. While the Capitol was unable to undo most of the damage afterwards, they couldn't save his left eye, leaving him with a prosthetic he switched out for a different wacky color each year.
Looking at the metrics, Relay wouldn’t be any help to him at all. Kotlin already knew some basic concepts for trap ideas, and he could probably pick up the others in training. He definitely knew well enough to remember where he placed them. And he had no intention of letting his alliance have the upper hand.
The recap was next, starting as promptly as they had been served some sort of platter of appetizers. Districts one and two went about as expected, with strong looking tributes, mostly. The girl from two was awfully small. Relay said she looked like an archer, and that could be reason to be wary of her, but Kotlin couldn't see any real malice behind those eyes, or determination to win.
There were some minor changes to the reaping in his own district. For one thing, Abundia’s comment about the weather was met with edited-in laughter and polite cheers. There was less of a delay in the calling of Kotlin’s name and his reaction. It moved on, and the commentators politely ignored Abundia’s fiasco with the umbrellas. However, it was still clear that the two of them were miserable at the prospect of being tributes, and there was only so much the rain could do to hide Kotlin’s shaking.
After that was District 4. Both of the kids reaped were twelve years old. Bad luck, perhaps, or something worse. However, thankfully for at least one of the kids there, an older boy volunteered, sauntering up to the stage with minimal apprehension while the younger kid was shooed away.
In District 5, the two tributes were a bit older, at sixteen, and while they gave each other uneasy looks onstage, the commentator went on about them both being schoolmates at a particular school.
“Huh,” Wylan mused, “I guess you were right.”
Relay barely glanced back at Wylan before returning his sights to the screen. “Yeah, of course I was. I feel bad for the volunteer from four, though. Must’ve missed the memo.”
Kotlin opened his mouth to ask for more context, but Ronna beat him to the punch. “Am I missing something here? Did something happen?”
“Uh… There was an…” Relay put his hands together, “Incident, last year. With the boys from four and five. There’s not really enough information to… speculate on what happened specifically, but whatever it was, I guess the Capitol wasn’t too happy about it.”
Kotlin somewhat remembered what Relay was talking about. It was a bit brushed over in the grand scheme of things by nature, mostly due to the main draw of that year being Tammy, the girl from eight. Reaped heavily pregnant, she had insisted on giving birth before the games. But another popular alliance that drew a fair percentage of live airtime was the alliance between the boy from four and the boy from five. Things went as normal for about two thirds of the games, until, rather abruptly, all coverage involving the two dropped off entirely, and their cannons sounded around twelve hours later, only shown through the reactions of the other tributes.
It had been easy to write off the official recap’s near total absence of them as a natural consequence of that game’s victor. Tammy and her bodyguards that made up the “orphan prevention” alliance had hardly interacted with the missing pair. However, now that Relay had confirmed that indeed something happened, it was now impossible to ignore how little screentime the two received in the final cut.
The knowledge continued to plague him through the rest of the recaps, unfortunately clouding his ability to focus on much of them besides the points that stood out, which were few as many of the tributes were fairly average.
In the middle of District twelve's reaping, Abundia finally returned, panicking at the fact that she had missed most of the show.
Kotlin assured her that she didn’t miss much.
—
Despite Abundia calling their parade performance “middling at best”, Kotlin went into training with some degree of confidence. While he wasn't much of a fighter, he made up for that in intelligence. Once the other tributes observed his skills in the mental field, they’d be a lot more open to joining up with him.
So, he and Ronna did their best to advertise themselves. Halfway through the first day, they had the chance to show their skills when it came to a scenario rundown, and it was after that that Kotlin was approached with his first offer for an alliance.
“Hello!” The girl greeted. “I’m Tilliduff, from nine. I was wondering if you wanted to join up with me and a few of the others.”
Kotlin observed her. While her short stature made her look fairly unassuming at first glance, she had the lean build of an experienced farmer, and had a certain sharpness in her expression.
“Okay, sure.” Kotlin agreed.
Tiliduff led him to the far side of the training center, where at a table two others waited. One was the girl from eight, who quietly introduced herself as Gwenlian, or just Gwen. The other was Tilliduff’s district partner, Carlyle, who barely even glanced at him to tell Kotlin his name before resuming his brooding.
The newfound alliance spent lunchtime making smalltalk, trying to learn about each other. Carlyle mentioned being one of eight siblings. Tilliduff talked about her pet birds. Gwen mentioned her job at an embroidery workshop. Kotlin himself talked about his passion for engineering, and how he built his first computer at only nine years old.
Realistically, Kotlin should ensure that he didn’t get too attached to his new allies. After all, it wasn’t like he could actually survive along with any of them, or any of the tributes aside from Ronna. And while winning alongside Ronna would be sweet, it wasn’t very practical given her young age and lack of practical abilities.
Above all, he needed to prioritize his own survival. At the end of the day, his family needed him, his district needed him, the world needed him.
Ronna approached them sometime later, accompanied by the boy from five, who introduced himself as Jem.
“Did you know Solaire at all?” Tilliduff wound up asking. So it must have been obvious enough to the other districts, too, that something was up.
“Not really. We shared a lot of classes at school, and we were in the art club together, but we weren’t too close.”
“Are ya sure it’s a good idea to group up?” Carlyle asked the pair. “I’ve gotta feeling the gamemakers will be targeting you.”
“Well, they won’t be targeting Ronna, just me.” Jem explained. “That’s why Toula and I aren’t allying. Us and the fours are splitting up entirely. That way, they’ll have to split up resources to hunt us down, and it’ll be easier for us to manage.”
Well, there was some sound logic in that, at least a bit.
And it even benefitted Ronna. Although they may be attacked a bit more in general, Jem had the bigger target on his back. If things got dire, Ronna could bail without having to worry too much about being followed. Why didn’t Kotlin consider doing this before? Perhaps Ronna was smarter than Kotlin originally thought.
“Well, let’s make a truce.” Kotlin offered. “We’ll be separate alliances, but friendly with each other. If we get whittled down enough and run into each other, we’ll merge.”
Jem considered it, glancing at Ronna, before turning back to him and nodding.
“Deal.”
—
The day of the interviews brought a fresh onslaught of heckling and lecturing about manners, courtesy of none other than Abundia. While mainly focusing on Ronna, she kept turning to make random jabs towards Kotlin as well, which left him rather fed up by the time lunch rolled around.
Wylan and Relay continued offering advice for them as they thought of it, though of course not all of it would be equally applicable. Wylan seemed fairly resigned to the idea of his games’ arena not being used again, and Relay had little personal experience to go off of. Kotlin had already learned much of the basics in training, so he took to tuning them out if it wasn’t something that personally piqued his interest.
The evening approached quickly.
He definitely didn't envy Ronna’s position, of being the first tribute to interview after the careers. Imagine sitting through four very promising tributes and then being presented with a bubbly thirteen year old with no real fighting skill who happened to be allies with one of the biggest targets in the game.
Regardless, she seemed to endear the audience well enough, somehow striking a balance of appearing chipper and sweet without coming across as naive or childish. “Optimism” was the word of the night for the host, Vespasius as he complimented her confidence in the few details she allowed herself to share.
Still, although it went well, Kotlin did feel safer going after her, knowing that his mental skills would impress the audience by comparison.
He couldn’t exactly ramble about computer tech for three minutes; he doubted very many in the Capitol were smart enough to even somewhat grasp any actual technical knowledge. However, he did know they liked when tributes were smarter than other tributes, so he approached them at their level.
“The boy from two mistook one of the training dummies for his district partner, and tried offering his bottle of water to it.”
The comment was met with laughs from the audience and Vespasius.
“He didn’t even realize it immediately,” Kotlin continued, “He just held it out and then shoved it into the dummy and knocked it over, then just stood there gawking at it for a good ten seconds.”
“Wow, how ridiculous!” Vespasius exclaimed in that usual fake sounding voice of his. “You think anything like that might happen again in the arena?”
Kotlin pretended to ponder it. “Perhaps. Who knows, this time it might be accidentally chopping off one of his own allies' heads instead of giving them water.”
The audience broke into applause and laughter once more. He smiled smugly to himself as the buzzer went off.
Satisfied, Kotlin returned to his place on the side of the stage, ignoring the two tributes glaring with the intensity of the sun behind him.
—
Kotlin wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting. Put like that, it sounded pretty obvious. Of course he wouldn't ever know what to expect. This was the Hunger Games, after all, they weren't exactly known for being predictable, at least when it came to the topic of the arenas. A forest? A zoo? A Desert? Whatever was going on during those last few games? At this point, anything was on the table, and Kotlin’s predictions were spread much too thin to really get a grasp on what it was likely to be.
At the very least, it was sunny when he emerged. The circle of tributes was surrounded by vast fields as far as the eyes could see, only occasionally broken up by hills and clusters of trees. All that sounded through the air was wind blowing through the wildgrass and the occasional birdsong. It was almost pleasant, almost normal, which meant this was either a games that would stay that way, or a games that would pull the rug out from under them.
That was still much too vague for comfort.
To his left stood Toula; then the girl from twelve, the boy from two, Gwen, the boy from six, Ronna, Pacific–
A sudden cacophony of cawing caught the attention of the tributes, Kotlin included. From out of the nearby oak tree, several crows emerged, flying past the outer rim of tributes and landing on the cornucopia. All save one, who instead landed multiple feet short of it. It bounced around, distracting some of the outliers, who gawked, or eyed it with fear.
Shaking his head, Kotlin returned his sights to the Cornucopia. He wasn’t much of a weapon guy (though who was aside from the careers?), so he’d probably just pick up something small like a dagger, which would work in a pinch and was better than nothing. More importantly, however, he needed actual survival supplies like food, water, iodine, medical supplies, whatever he could get his hands on…
“What if it gets too close to him?”
The comment from the girl from twelve to Toula brought him out of his thoughts. He looked up just in time to see the crow tilt its head toward Pacific, before hopping over a bunch of paces and–
The landmines around Pacific instantly erupted into a burst of smoke and scattered dirt.
Pacific’s district partner shrieked from a few pedestals to his right. Ronna, who was unlucky enough to be standing on the pedestal right next to the poor sap, teetered unsteadily to the point where Kotlin was incredibly concerned that she might fall off altogether. Fortunately, she managed to steady herself, instead lowering herself to her knees to recover.
Man, the Capitol must have been really pissed off at the prospect of Pacific throwing a wrench into their already spiteful punishment if they were willing to so blatantly get rid of him before the games even began.
Talk about petty.
The gong rang out much too suddenly, unbothered by the turn of events. Shaken out of his contemplation, Kotlin startled, dragged back into reality through force. Despite the slight delay, he at least wasn’t among the last few tributes to flee, so at least it wouldn’t be too noticeable of a mistake.
He reached the outer perimeter of items, thankfully not followed by the boy from two, though he could hear a wild commotion behind him as the career seemed to be preoccupied with going after Toula. He barely spared a glance behind him to confirm his suspicions when he nearly tripped over the small girl from four, who had crossed paths with him in a blind panic. The two stumbled away from each other, managing only a second of eye contact before Lysandra caught up, grabbing the girl’s shoulder and throwing her to the side grabbing an axe that was sat on top of a crate without even bothering to turn her attention to Kotlin.
Thankful for the skewed priorities, Kotlin dove for a backpack, thankfully snatching one up from behind another crate, placed in such a way that most of the tributes would have missed it if they weren’t paying attention like he was.
He was glancing around for a knife when a sudden outburst erupted above him. He glanced up in time to see the crows scatter from atop the cornucopia, descending upon several of the tributes and swarming them. One flew only a few feet away, wings beating furiously in the face of the girl from four as she cowered on the ground, now unable to fight off Lysandra.
Kotlin turned away before he could witness the final blow, instead focusing in on a knife that the boy from twelve dropped as his arms flailed in a bid to shoo off another crow that had set its sights on him. Scampering over to grab it, Kotlin concluded that this was about as good as it was going to get for him, and he was best off fleeing now, while he still had the chance.
Scanning the clearing once more, Kotlin ensured that everyone was thoroughly distracted before making his way out of the cluster of crates, ducking low until he reached beyond cover. He darted off towards the clearest pathway to the trees, which was currently only occupied by Gwen, who had frozen in fear as she gaped at the chaos unfolding around her.
“Let’s go!” Kotlin urged, grabbing her arm and dragging her away, facing resistance until Gwen finally managed to shake off whatever panic had consumed her.
Kotlin couldn’t spare another glance backwards, so he was left relying on sheer hope that no one would notice them leaving before they reached the cover of the trees. At the very least, hopefully anyone who DID notice them first would view Gwen as an easier target to go after.
The two kept running until they ran out of breath, managing to break line of sight behind a hill, near one of the clusters of forest.
“Do you know where the others ran off to?” Kotlin asked Gwen between breaths.
Gwen, however, shook her head. “Sorry. I was too… Too caught up in it all. Panicked.”
Yeah, that was pretty obvious from how she froze up back there. He was hoping she had noticed at least something, but apparently that wasn’t the case.
“Whatever, it’s fine.” Kotlin said, “Let’s take cover in the trees, and we’ll keep an eye out for the nines.”
Gwen nodded, following him towards the treeline. Kotlin really hoped Carlyle and Tilliduff managed to make it out of there alright, because the last thing he wanted was for Gwen to be the only one he had on hand as an ally. She was sweet and kind, but he doubted that she could do anything to protect him if push came to shove. If they happened to run into the careers or even just a pair of stronger tributes in general, they’d both be doomed for sure.
A shrill whistle broke him out of his contemplation. He looked around wildly, searching for danger, until he spotted Carlyle hop over a small boulder.
“Man, you guys really booked it out of there, huh?” the taller boy chided, folding his arms. “I was fighting just to keep up with you, y’know?”
“We got supplies, at least.” Kotlin assured him.
“Good, good.” Carlyle nodded, pacing around them. “I grabbed some too, so did Tilly.” He blinked, then looked around. “Where is she? Did I lose her after all? Y’know, she said to me that you guys were going too fast, and–”
“I’m here!” A voice piped up from the ditch. Out of the grass popped Tilliduff, who gave them a wave. “I just wanted to get around the hill without being spotted, that’s all. There was a group of tributes I could see headed this way.”
“Sorry we ran off so quickly.” Gwen said.
“I’m just glad we didn’t have to go trekking through half the arena to find you guys.” Tilliduff sighed. “You didn’t have too much trouble getting out of there, did you?”
“No…. not really.” Gwen shook her head. “I didn’t really get anything, though.”
“I got a backpack,” Kotlin said, “Everyone was distracted, so I was able to get in and out without drawing any attention.”
“That’s good!” Tilliduff nodded. “We didn’t have much trouble either, Carlyle managed to slip into the cornucopia and grab a few extra things when no one was looking.”
Carlyle shrugged, “Yeah, I got some things, but you’re saying it like it was difficult. They were too busy maiming the girls from four and five to care about anything else.”
“Speaking of five,” Gwen piped up, “Does anyone know where Jem and Ronna went?”
Kotlin’s ears perked up at her mention of Ronna. What prompted Gwen to care so much about her? He’d have to keep an eye on this.
“They ran off.” Carlyle replied. “Should be a bit East from us, if they kept the same direction I saw them running off in.”
Gwen lit up. “That’s good! We should look for them!”
“But they aren’t even part of our alliance, not properly at least.” Carlyle argued. “We agreed to a truce, but that doesn’t mean we gotta be all buddy buddy with them.”
“Well, let’s keep an eye out for now. It’s pretty early, we might run into them.” Tilliduff urged.
Carlyle let out a long, weary sigh. After a pause, he finally responded. “Okay. We can do that.”
—
That evening brought a clear sky under which the nightly projection flourished. Kotlin and his small alliance had taken shelter within a bundle of shrubbery, glancing out out the branches to watch the recap with curious eyes.
The deaths on day one had amounted to around seven. This would have been low to middling numbers up to a decade ago, but District Four’s recurring absence from the careers since the ninety-second games had set a pattern of small bloodbaths with less deaths.
Both from four. Toula, Ikat. The girl from ten, the boy from eleven, and the girl from twelve.
“Sorry about your district partner,” Tilliduff offered to Gwen.
“Thanks,” Gwen responded, “It’s alright though, I think. We didn’t know each other that well, not really.”
“Hey, at least your buddies are still alive, huh?” Carlyle said. “Five and Ronna? Maybe you’ll get a chance to look for them after all.”
“Yeah,” Gwen responded, perking up a little. “You think we’ll find them?”
“For sure. Like I said, they couldn’t have gone too far… unless they’re wandering away from us as we speak. But hey, they’re smart, smart enough to survive the bloodbath at least.”
This flip in Carlyle’s behavior took Kotlin off guard. Didn’t he resist the plan a few hours earlier? Something wasn’t right.
It struck Kotlin then that maybe Carlyle was attempting to accumulate allies to act as a shield, and figured the more the better. If that were the case, then that wasn’t good news for Kotlin, who could easily get thrown under the bus if it came down to a hard call.
Kotlin eyed Carlyle warily, taking the first shift of the night watch to ensure that the other tribute was actually asleep before Kotlin could get any rest himself.
—
In the morning, Kotlin awoke to talking in the distance.
He groggily pushed himself up, still tired from getting so little sleep the night before. Around him, daylight had just begun to reach the area, the sun finally rising above a layer of fog that had blanketed the arena. This lingering haziness obscured the group’s surroundings, leaving the pair of tributes he spotted at a nearby skeleton of architecture vague and undefined.
Gwen, who had replaced his watch during the night, stood up and wandered towards them a few paces before stopping again, and squinting towards the figures.
Perhaps she thought it’d be Ronna and Jem? Kotlin took a chance.
“You think it’s them?”
Gwen didn’t respond right away, taking another handful of steps forward. Hesitantly, she called out.
“Hello? Ronna? Jem?”
Kotlin blinked at her, flabbergasted. Really? Just calling out to two unknown strangers and shining a spotlight on yourself? Did this girl have a deathwish or something?
The smaller of the two figures jumped in place and waved. It was then that Kotlin recognized the familiar curly hair as it bounced. Oh. So it was Ronna and Jem. Man, that was lucky.
Gwen called out to them again, which roused the other two allies from their spots nearby.
“Huh? What? What’s going on?” Carlyle asked.
Gwen ran off to meet up with the others, leaving the nines to follow her path until they spotted the other alliance.
“Oh, hey, we found them after all.” Carlyle mused, standing up.
It took a minute for Kotlin and the others to catch up, meeting Gwen and the other alliance about halfway from where both groups started. Once Kotlin caught Ronna’s gaze, she waved at him with a grin and rushed forward to hug him.
“Glad you guys are okay.” He greeted her, genuinely.
“Yeah, and we didn’t even have to go out of our way to search for you.” Carlyle smirked at them. “You saved us a lot of time, so thanks.”
“It wasn’t that easy,” Jem explained, “We got chased by some coyotes for a while, and we actually spent the night trapped on top of a trailer. We were lucky they were asleep when we woke up, or else we’d have never gotten away.”
“Coyotes?” Tilliduff asked with concern.
“What are coyotes?” Gwen asked.
“They’re like dogs, kinda.” Carlyle attempted to explain. “They can be vicious if you catch ‘em at a bad time.”
Gwen nodded uncertainly. “Okay. Like large dogs?”
Carlyle continued his explanation while Jem resumed his recounting of the previous night. “I didn’t think there’d be so much here after us. Those crows, the coyotes, I know mutts are pretty standard in arenas but we’ve barely got a break since we started.”
“It’s been pretty quiet for us,” Tilliduff stated.
“What? Really?” Jem exclaimed with dismay. “Man, our luck’s just been bad then, huh?”
“Or it’s not luck.” Kotlin offered, “You’re the only one left from four or five.”
“Oh, that’s true.” Jem kicked the grass idly.
Ronna suddenly gasped, glancing up to a nearby hill. “Oh no, they found us!”
Kotlin swung towards where she was looking, unsure if she was talking about the coyotes or the careers or worse. The answer turned out to be the coyotes, as the silhouettes at the hill’s crest were distinctly canine.
“What do we do?” Gwen pleaded.
“Let’s go to the construction site,” Jem gestured to it. “We were going to go in there because it was fenced. There might be some stuff in there we can use to fight it off, or at least supplies so we can stay there until they get bored.”
The group rushed off at the plan, beelining it to the perimeter of the fence. Kotlin hoped the coyotes weren’t chasing them yet, but by the time he could make out the gaps in the fence he could hear snarling behind him.
Jem made it to the gate first, swinging it open and glancing back to the others.
“C’mon! Hurry up!” He cried before dashing inside.
The others followed, with Tilliduff being the last inside. She turned on her heel and slammed the gate behind her before rushing off to a nearby utility shed.
Kotlin took it as his cue to find a spot out of the open himself. His eyes darted around until he spotted a precarious looking structure made of metal, housing a bundle of shipping containers on top. He dashed to the stairwell, clambering up the first few stairs until the fifth gave out suddenly, sending his left leg through the floor.
A sharp pain shot through his ankle, but he managed to ignore it for now, pulling himself up and managing to run on adrenaline to get up the rest of the stairs, which thankfully proved to be more stable than the outlier that gave out.
Although the container was seemingly locked at first glance, he noticed that the lock wasn’t even fastened, instead hanging loosely just enough to keep the door closed. Curious, he removed it, cracking it open and taking a peek inside.
In there, he found several metal rods, parts of rebar or other thin structural beams. He grabbed one, slipping it out and shutting the door again.
Down below, a few of the coyotes had managed to jump the fence and were now pacing around the clearing. The only ones remaining on the ground now were Ronna and Jem, the former of whom had just tripped over a bundle of wires, landing hard on her right arm. Jem turned and pulled her up harshly, and the two frantically scampered towards a bulldozer, which already had Carlyle perched on top of it.
“C’mon, run!” Carlyle called to them. In a bid to help, Kotlin hurled the rebar towards one of the coyotes, but it missed, instead sticking itself into the ground like a javelin.
Jem made it to the truck first, climbing on top of the wheel before turning around to grab onto Ronna. Of course, since Jem didn’t seem like the strongest person, he struggled to pull her up.
Kotlin watched on helplessly. He couldn’t go down there without alerting the coyotes to the stairs. At the same time, he seriously doubted that Carlyle would save them.
But Carlyle proved himself to be full of surprises. Taking some initiatic, he leapt down from the roof, landing on top of the wheel and grabbing Ronna’s other arm. With one coordinated pull from both of the boys, they managed to haul Ronna up on the vehicle, pulling her out of the reach of the coyote’s biting jaws.
Kotlin let out a sigh of relief.
It took nearly an hour for the coyotes to wear themselves out and leave. In that time, a storm built in the far distance, much too far to be a threat but close enough that they could see the funnel of a tornado on the horizon.
“Is the view any better from where you are?” Ronna called up to Kotlin.
“Yeah, a bit,” he called back. Of course, he wasn’t sure by how much, but at least it wasn’t obscured by the fence or other structures.
Shortly after, a cannon rang out.
“I guess the storm got them!” Ronna called again.
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Tilliduff called from her own spot on top of the shed.
This long distance conversation carried on for a bit longer, until finally the coyotes ran off, deciding to find something better to do.
Relieved, Kotlin began making his way down the steps. From his location up here, he could spot a pit dug out in the ground through the metal stairway. He looked at them for a long moment before glancing back up at the container of rebar.
He had an idea.
Kotlin was the last to reach the group, joining them mid conversation.
“... Yeah, we should probably get that cleaned up, we don’t want it to get infected.” Tilliduff explained to Ronna.
“Yeah, I know. But what about the water? Do we have enough to clean it?”
“We can manage, I’m sure.”
“I might need some for my leg, too.” Kotlin said as he limped over to them.
Gwen gave it a nervous lookover. “Aren’t you worried about tetanus?”
“It’s one of the shots they give tributes before they get sent into the arena, it’s fine.”
“... and thank you for helping us out back there,” Jem said to Carlyle, “Those coyotes have been a menace, I just hope they don’t come back.”
“Eh, no worries about it,” Carlyle shrugged off, “I don’t mind helping out where I can, just don’t expect me to throw myself into their jaws for you, that’s all.”
Jem and Ronna giggled at the image.
Kotlin had to admit, this alliance seemed stronger than he had thought. If even Carlyle was coming around to supporting them, that meant that Kotlin could actually rely on everyone to keep him and perhaps even Ronna safe, and with that level of teamwork they could make it pretty far.
There was just one problem.
The problem with Jem wasn’t one stemming from the kid’s choice of morals, or trustworthiness, or skill. Rather, it was one of mere outside opinions. To the Capitol, Jem was just a tool to punish his District, nothing more. After all, the Capitol was petty and stupid, and figured that forcefully killing a tribute, even if they were incredibly likely doomed to be killed anyways, was somehow, someway, getting back at a District of which the majority of the population wouldn’t even know the victim in question. All because some guy during the previous year managed to either destroy something, escape, or otherwise piss off the ones in charge.
Really, Jem, Toula, and the fours had been doomed the moment Solaire had agreed to whatever plan Levanter had in mind during the one hundred and first games. Death had come for three of them since, and it was only a matter of time before it caught up with Jem as well.
And Kotlin had no intention to be taken down with him.
—
It was two days later, and the group had barely avoided another storm.
Across the arena, a low rumbling sound rolled through the air, reaching the group several seconds after the source of lightning struck.
“Five seconds,” Tilliduff commented, “five miles.”
“That’s not how that works,” Kotlin interjected, “You have to calculate the seconds it takes and then divide by five, because it takes five seconds for it to travel a mile. So in this instance, since it was only five seconds between when the lightning struck and when the thunder reached our spot, that means the lightning only hit a mile or so away. That’s… pretty close, actually. Good thing we aren’t out there.”
Tilliduff blinked at him, not speaking for several seconds. Then, she let out a weary sigh.
“Drat. Guess my grandma was wrong, then. Second per mile was what she told me.”
At that moment, a second sound shot across the horizon, a sharper thud. This came from no lightning, as none had flashed by during Kotlin’s lesson, so the group was left to exchange glances in confusion.
“What was that?” Ronna asked.
“It might have been a cannon. It didn’t sound quite like thunder.”
“Eh, it could’ve been,” Carlyle suggested. “Thunder’s weird like that. Sometimes, lightning just stays in the clouds.”
“But we would’ve seen it in the clouds if that were the case. What if someone got hit?” Tilliduff crossed her arms.
Carlyle remained unconvinced, or at least eager to argue. “I’m tellin’ ya, it’s thunder.”
“It’s a cannon!”
“Thunder.”
“Cannon!”
“Thunder.”
“Cannon!”
“Thunder.”
Tilliduff threw herself back among the bundle of backpacks with a huff. Kotlin glanced back out into the storm, following the horizon until it vanished behind the fog of rain. Considering how bad it looked out there, he wouldn’t be surprised if it killed somebody. From lightning, to flash floods, to wind, being out there right now would be like walking directly into a deathtrap.
—
That evening brought clear skies once again, shrouding the arena under a starry nightscape. Kotlin gazed up at the assortment of stars, admiring how many of them there were.
“It’s not actually the sky, you know.” Carlyle piped up from behind. “There’s inconsistencies. The entirety of Lyra is missing. It’s nothing like how it is in nine.”
“I knew that.” Kotlin lied. He should’ve expected something like that, but whatever. It wasn’t like he was going to admit he was ignorant of basic constellations in front of his allies, or especially the live audience watching.
The anthem broke the ensuing silence, catching the attention of the group. Kotlin glanced back up just in time to see the boy from district two projected onto the sky.
“Ha! I was right!” Tilliduff boasted to Carlyle.
“Whad’ya think got him?” Carlyle mused, ignoring Tilliduff altogether. “Do you think he died in a fight? Or was he just straight up hit by lightning or something?”
“A fight’s more realistic.” Kotlin argued.
Carlyle sat down. “But lightning is more dramatic.”
They went back and forth a few more times, the others watching on in mild amusement as they settled down for the night.
“Maybe he escaped.” Jem finally suggested, gazing at them from the sleeping bag. “And now next year the targeting will be District Two’s problem instead. I wouldn’t mind that.”
Carlyle blinked at him before shrugging. “Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. You guys could use a break.”
Kotlin sighed, attention turning toward his ankle. Since the incident at the construction site, things had only gotten worse. Despite every single measure he could possibly take to keep the site of the wound clean, the skin around it was starting to show the beginnings of infection.
“How’s it looking?” Tilliduff asked him.
“Not great.” He admitted. “We need to find a way to get our hands on some sort of medical ointment.”
“Mine’s not doing that well either.” Ronna piped up from her own sleeping bag, holding up her arm for emphasis.
Carlyle hummed in concern. “Maybe we can send a pair to sneak to the cornucopia?”
“That’s stupid,” Kotlin argued, “The careers will probably be camping out there.”
“Well, do you have any other ideas?” Carlyle asked.
“We could wait on a sponsor gift, maybe.” Jem suggested. “They like you guys, and it’s too early for people to start dropping dead from infection.”
Kotlin sighed. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he struggled to think up any better plan than that. He doubted there would be random essential supplies supplied elsewhere, as the few scattered buildings they had seen in the past few days had been almost completely barren. While he didn’t even trust the Capitol to know what an infection looked like, and hated the idea of relying on them, it seemed he didn’t have much of a choice.
“Yeah, we just need to impress them,” Kotlin said as he took his place against the nearby tree. “Then they’ll send something for us, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Yeah, don’t worry yourself, kid,” Carlyle nudged Ronna lightly. “They wouldn’t let you suffer for long, that’d just make the audience miserable. They’ll send you something in no time.”
Ronna, who seemed at least a little bit reassured by this, beamed at him before settling down into her sleeping bag.
Kotlin could only hope Carlyle’s words were true.
—
The third storm hit while they were out in the open.
Maybe it was due to Tilliduff denying that it would reach them. Maybe it was due to Carlyle wasting several minutes trying to convince them to take cover in a bundle of buildings that looked like a death trap, with Kotlin having to explain that no, if none of the buildings they came across so far had basements, those weren’t likely to have them either. Maybe it was due to how far behind Ronna was thanks to her struggling to get through the wildgrass, and eventually forced the group to move to a nearby gravel road. Either way, the clouds built up too quickly for them to reach any sort of shelter, and within minutes the sky had darkened to the point of seeming like it was much later than it was.
“Well, great.” Carlyle threw his hands into a begrudged shrug at the dark clouds looming over them. “Fantastic, even. We’ve wasted so much time that now it’s on top of us. Good work, guys.”
“Oh, shut up.” Tilliduff argued back, “You’re the one who led us in the wrong direction for half an hour.”
“It wouldn’t have been the wrong direction if we kept going! But mister math tutor over here thinks he knows everything about storms and the arena and demands that we spend the storm in a ditch instead!”
“We’d stand a better chance if we were in a ditch, we just need enough time to set up a shelter, like the one we did back during training” Kotlin insisted.
Jem glanced up at the skies warily. “I don’t think we’re gonna get enough time. Do you have a backup plan?”
Kotlin eyed the now visibly approaching rain line in the sky. Indeed, they only had maybe five to seven minutes before it got here, and that wasn’t enough time to even gather the branches needed to secure the skeleton of the shelter they practiced, let alone do any other step that came after.
He glanced around. The road eventually led to a bridge, maybe they could shelter there?
“Let’s head to the bridge.” He decided.
“What if the wind picks up? Or we get another tornado?” Jem asked.
“We’ll probably find some stuff there to lean near the corners, it’ll help block the wind.” Kotlin offered.
“Darn,” Ronna sighed, “And our shelter in training was so nice, and the trainer helped us out so much, and now we aren’t even gonna get to do it after all that.”
“Don’t worry,” Jem offered, “Maybe there’ll be more storms after this, and we can have one set up for then?”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Gwen shivered, “The last thing we need is more storms.”
A closer boom of thunder sounded, louder than the low rumbling that had been warning them before. Startled, the group picked up their pace, more jogging to the bridge than walking.
By the time they got there, the wind had gotten serious, and rain was starting to fall. Ronna ran ahead of them, ducking down into the reeds to check under the bridge.
“How is it down there?” Jem asked.
“It should fit us all!” Ronna shouted back from below. “We just have to be careful not to slip and fall into the creek. It’s not too deep, though.”
“This looks like a bad idea….” Carlyle trailed off, giving the underside of the bridge an untrusting look.
Jem took a few steps back, letting Tilliduff drag Carlyle down, then nudging Gwen, who followed hesitantly.
It was then that he heard something, some weird offtune chiming sound that danced around above them. He glanced at Jem, who returned a perplexed look, before they looked up to find none other than a sponsor parachute flying by them, landing several yards away.
“Are they serious?” Jem grumbled, glaring between the gift and where he guessed the hovercraft that dumped it was, “now, of all times?”
Indeed, this was a bit of a predicament. On one hand, they really, really needed that antibiotic ointment. It was only a matter of time before Kotlin and Ronna’s infections reached the point of developing serious illness, especially if they were about to spend even more time stuck in damp and dirty conditions. Furthermore, if they didn’t get it now, the chances of sponsors sending a second batch after they essentially wasted a bunch of money on the first container were slim to none. This was their only shot, and the gamemakers decided to make a real hassle out of it.
Should he go out there? Really, this felt less like choosing to save himself or die and more like choosing whether to die via tornado or infection. And obviously, neither sounded particularly pleasing.
Jem backed out of the overgrown slope, brushing himself off as if the wind wasn’t strong enough to knock off any debris that might have gathered.
Kotlin gawked at him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going after it!” Jem shouted back. “Get down there and wait for me, I might need some help getting back!”
Suddenly, the burden had been lifted. Despite the oppressive storm swirling around them, Kotlin felt a rush of elation at his ally’s act of selflessness.
“Be careful!” he warned.
Jem shouted something back as he turned to run to the gift, but at this point the wind and rain had grown so loud that Kotlin couldn’t make it out. Instead, he ducked under the bridge, taking cover under the stone arch.
Underneath, everyone else had already taken their places, tucked into small nooks where the bridge’s arch left a gap that was relatively safe from the apocalyptic conditions. Beside Kotlin’s spot, he spotted Gwen huddled against the corner, and barely made out one of Ronna’s legs behind her. Across on the other side, Tilliduff did much of the same, with Carlyle sitting beside her, both hands gripping for dear life on surrounding structural beams.
Having taken count of everyone, Kotlin peeked back out, just barely braving the storm long enough to check on Jem. He had grabbed the container, and made it down the ditch into the water. However, now he was battling the wind, struggling to take each step as he waded through the creek towards them.
Kotlin remained patient, or at least as patient as he could be, watching Jem approach so, so slowly.
He offered a hand when Jem made it a few paces away. However, when Jem reshuffled the gift in his arms to reach out, the parachute flung out behind him, yanking him backwards.
Really, Kotlin expected Jem to fly off altogether at that point. However, Jem managed to make a frantic grasp at some particularly stubborn plants, managing to stall his momentum.
But now, the strings of the parachute were tangled around Jem’s left leg. The parachute continued to try and fly into the atmosphere behind him, and the container dangled helplessly below his ankle.
Jem glanced up at him and yelled something.
“What?!”
He tried again. “Your knife!”
Getting the hint, Kotlin grabbed the knife from its holster. Although the idea of throwing a knife directly at Jem’s face didn’t sound very safe, he didn’t exactly have a lot of other options, so he took the risk.
Thankfully, it fell short, landing just close enough that Jem was able to pull forward and grab it. Flipping around, he quickly swiped it at the ropes, the parachute flying away and disappearing into the storm as both Jem and the container fell down.
Kotlin nearly held his breath, wondering whether Jem or the increasing roar of the storm’s epicenter would reach the safety of the bridge first. And indeed, it seemed like a tie, Jem ducking under cover as the winds shrieked above them.
“Take it!” Jem yelped, thrusting the container towards Kotlin. Kotlin accepted it graciously, tucking it into the bag he had stuffed into the corner.
He heard something slip behind him, and turned back around just in time to see Jem lose his footing as a gust swept under the bridge.
Jem grunted as his legs were knocked from under him, sending him straight into the muddy shoreline before nearly dragging him out of the shelter, with only a desperate grip on a stubborn root keeping him tethered to safety. He looked at Kotlin with a frantic expression.
“C’mon, help, please–”
Kotlin scrambled after him, approaching the exit while trying to keep a hand on the support beam he had been clinging to this entire time. Could he even reach Jem from here? He tried, straining to reach as far as he could and yet falling a foot and a half short. His shoe slipped on a rock, and he nearly lost his balance.
He could let go and take a massive risk to his life to reach Jem, or he could retreat back into safety.
Kotlin considered it for a long moment, until his hand felt numb from the cold wind and the root lost its hold just slightly, sending Jem jerking backwards an inch or so.
Jem was his ally. But he was also not able to win with Kotlin still alive, and he was also an active target for the Capitol, who had long ago already decided he was a dead man.
Kotlin pulled himself back into the nook.
“Kotlin, wait, wh–”
The wind obscured his pleas, and obscured Kotlin’s vision with muddy rain. He ducked his face into his arms, and when he managed to glance up again, Jem was gone.
Kotlin glanced around frantically, as if Jem could have possibly managed to save himself. But all he found around him was rain, three of his remaining allies tucked into their respective hiding spots,
And Carlyle, the only one who had witnessed this whole thing, still holding on on the opposite side of the creek and meeting Kotlin with a petrified gaze.