The Undead Mockingjay

Chapter 13.

After spending a night in Sebastian’s camp, we make our way back to the mountains the next morning. It takes most of a day, because Finnick sends hunting parties out, hunting for tributes, and food. By the time we make it up the mountain, everyone is exhausted, needing sleep. Everyone finds sleeping quarters and dozes off. I sit near the mouth of the cave, unable to sleep. There is rain, pouring down hard, outside. I’m shivering from coldness, but am too tired to get up and grab a cloak. I hear rustling, and turn to see Sirius, walking over, smiling.

“Unable to sleep, as well?” He asks, as he drapes his cloak around my shoulders.

“No. I was having a nightmare about…” I consider telling Sirius. My feelings for him are mixed. The fact that I have two brothers is still a shock. I wonder how Prim also took this stunning piece of information. What about my mother? I pull the cloak in tighter before answering.

“About Sebastian,” I finally answer. My dream was of Sirius, as the golden Angel, and Sebastian as the dark Angel, fighting. Sirius’s eyes harden upon hearing Sebastian’s name.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “Soon enough, he won’t be able to hurt anyone, anymore.” I shiver, and not from the cold, remembering how Sebastian just played with Sirius, not taking his abilities seriously. Then through the cold, dark, wet night Claudius Templesmith’s voice echoes through the arena.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, congratulations for surviving this long. I hope you are all safe and warm, against this cold, foreboding night.” His voice sounds cheerful and sincere.

“Now, we have decided to invite two of our most talented Tributes to a…meeting. If these two Tributes choose to grace us with their presence, we will reach an agreement. The two will fight and the winner will get one wish. A wish that can do anything…but have someone else leave the arena.” My heart leaps. Anything. But who would wish for someone else to get to leave the arena? Then it dawns me.

“We are inviting Sirius Darkhallow,” his voice continues. My heart sinks.

“And Cato Raith. We will wait in the Cornucopia for one hour. If one of you has arrived and the other hasn’t, that Tribute will be declared winner by default. We will be looking forward to seeing you, gentlemen.” His voice echoes, across the arena.

“Don’t go,” I say to him at once. I will not let him walk to his possible death, by brutal Cato. I cup his face, disregarding the voice in my head whispering to me that he’s my brother. He gently removes my hands before saying, “I have to. Or he’ll be declared winner by default. He could wish for anything. Your death. Everyone’s death, making him the victor. Anything.” As he says it I can’t help but agree. Asking for everyone to be hunted down and killed by mutts is the most likely. He gets up and goes off to find his armour. I sit there by the rain, thinking of a way to dissuade him. Everyone who was sleeping seems to have woken up, by Claudius Templesmith’s booming voice. Finnick walks over, his golden hair ruffled.

“I heard. Is he going?” I can only nod in response, my fingers laced on my lap. Finnick nods and sits down beside me, wrapping his arm around me. Everyone one is up and talking about the deathwatch. Who will win? That’s the question they constantly ask. They make room as Sirius walks to the edge of the cave and us. He is in his full body armour. The golden parts of it, shine in the fire light. Someone hands him a black cloak. He sweeps it on, and fastens it into place. He straps his sword across his back, over his cloak. He has his crossbows and knives. He looks deadly. I spot Peeta staring at me and smile. He smiles back and walks over. He stops at Sirius.

“Good luck, man,” he says, offering his hand. Sirius thinks and grips Peeta’s hand with his own.

“Thanks,” he responds with a smile. People are clapping him on the back now, cheering his name. Soon a people are screaming his names and dancing. Sirius laughs and makes it over. I turn to look outside and see that trees have disappeared. We can see the Cornucopia now. I can clearly make out, Snow, Peacekeepers, and some other random Capitol scum. I turn back and see that Sirius is about a foot away. He smiles and sweeps me into a hug. I hug back but he breaks it. He turns to Finnick and grips his shoulder.

“Thank you, for everything,” he says. Finnick nods in response. Bella barrels in and leaps at Sirius.

“Come back, okay?” She sobs. Sirius consoles her and walks to the edge. He turns to the crowd one last time before stepping off, into the darkness.

Sirius’s Point Of View.

I land at the base of the mountain with a grunt. It’s a harder fall with the armour. I pull my cloak up to hide my face, as I take off into the forest. Anger. Fury. Hatred. These are some of the tools I need for this challenge. All of these, I’ve noticed, are the tools that give me my gifts. The forest is shielding me from the worst of the rain. I think of Sebastian, and how he toyed with me at our last encounter, and rage boils up. Next time brother, you will not get away so easily. My now glowing eyes, lighten the way for me. I reach the Cornucopia without any trouble. Snow is standing there along with about a hundred Peacekeepers. Claudius Templesmith is also there. So is Katniss’s father. My father. My rage reaches a whole new level, upon seeing him. There looks like a barracks beside them. Cato is standing away from them soaking wet. It doesn’t take long for me to asses him. He is of muscular build, brown hair, tall. He stands proud and cocky, in the rain. I notice something that stops me. He is wearing the same protective material around his body, like his first Games. I know that arrows and swords can’t pierce it. He sees me and his stance shifts to a hungry predator. Beside Snow is a camera crew. I see myself in the reflection of the lens. All you can see in my hood is my glowing eyes. I smile. This will cause uncertainty. “Gentlemen! Welcome to the Death match!” Claudius Templesmith’s voice booms.

“The rules are simple! Fight to the death. The winner will get one wish. State your wishes now!” Cato smiles, showing his teeth and I can instantly tell he’s not sane.

“I wish for every Tribute but Katniss to die. Leave her for me.” Fury surges through my veins. How dare he wish that!

“I wish for four people to win the Hunger Games this year.”

“Absolutely not!” Snow snaps.

“Three?” I ask.

“No!”

“Two?” I feel like I’m bargaining back home. Snow thinks for a bit.

“Fine,” he says, his lip peeling back. I nod. It’s the best that could’ve happened under the circumstances.

“We have a variety of weapons here, at your disposal,” Templesmith continues. “You will choose your weapons, and the fight will begin!” I watch Cato as he goes over to get his weapons. He will be a tough opponent. I make my decision there and then. Against this good an enemy, my armour will make no difference. I will just slow me down. I strip myself of my armour, and cloak. I pull my vest and shirt off as well so I’m only wearing pants. I strap my sword across my back again, along with me belts of crossbows and knives. I walk to the barracks to choose my weapons of choice. Cato has picked a number of spears, and swords. I study each weapon. There is weapon imaginable. I choose a spear, that with a click of a button on it, turns to a sword. I also choose a black shield, seeing Cato has done the same. I walk back, so I’m facing Cato, a good three yards, separating us. We both are wielding a spear and a shield. The Capitol begins to beat drums, a quick rhythm. This is the perfect music for our fight, I think, smiling, baring my teeth in a snarl. The drums get louder and louder as Claudius Templesmith steps forward holding a red hanker chief.

“Gentlemen! When the hanky touches the ground, the fight will begin.” He lets go of the hanky. The rain weighs it down, so it falls faster, but at the moment, It’s slow motion. I wipe my wet hair out of my eyes, and snarl. As the hanky touches the ground we run forward, shouting different battle cries.

I tilt my head to the right, avoiding his spear by an inch. I raise my shield, throwing his spear in the air. It growls and brings it back to his side for his next attack. I hold my shield to my left side, face level, and lunge forward, trying to get past his shield. He blocks it with his shield, and tries to spear my face. The spear isn’t long enough and misses me by about a foot. Cato growls and clicks a switch on it. With a mechanical sound it transforms into a sword. He lunges forward again, slashing at my thigh. I twist and bring my shield around to block just in time.

I back away, my feet moving to the beat of the drums. I turn my spear into a sword, and run and jump at Cato. He kneels and raises his shield to protect his head. While jumping, I stab my sword down at Cato’s shield. He shuffles back and swings his sword towards my neck. I raise my own to block it. My ears are ringing with the sound of steel on steel as I swing my shield at Cato’s neck, noticing that the edges of the shield are sharpened.

He ducks and slashes his sword across my left leg. There’s nothing to do but take the hit. I shuffle back, baring my teeth in a smile. I don’t have time to examine the wound. Cato lunges forward and brings his sword across my chest. I lean back, and feel his sword graze my chest. Blood trickles down my chest as I spin, past him, and behind him. I jump back, dodging his sword and throw mine at him. It hits his chest and bounces off, causing no damage, but sends him off balance. I draw my crossbow and aim for his head, but he raises his shield just in time.

The drums speed up as I also throw my shield at him. He still blocks it but is sent stumbling back. He snarls as I draw my sword, the Angel gleaming in the rain. I leap at him, knocking his own sword away, skittering in the darkness. He slams the face of his shield into my shoulder, trying to keep me away. He draws the sword across his waist, and swings it across my chest. I lean back, but feel the blade graze my chest. Blood trickles down as I strike at him with my sword. He parries it and seizes my shield, and rips it off my arm.

I twirl away from his swinging sword, rain flying off me. I turn back to him to see him throwing his head back, laughing.

“Out of all these Tributes, your by far my greatest opponent!” Cato stares at his fist, smiling, his hair covering his eyes.

“All my life I’ve searched for my hardest challenge, and here you are!” He laughs again and looks at me. I bare my teeth and nod, in agreement.

“I’ll be almost sad to see you go,” Cato whispers, barely audible before, bursting into a sprint towards me. I bring my sword diagonally, meeting his sword. Cato brings his sword down, the opposite way, towards my legs. Instead of moving backwards, I leap into the hair, kneeing his face. Cato staggers back, blood dripping from his nose. I land in a crouch and roll towards Cato. I come up and slash his stomach, and push him back with my free hand. My sword has still not pierced his protective mesh.
Anger surges through me. My patience begins to wear thin. Cato smiles and I take a deep breath. Cato closes the distance quickly and does a series of combative moves that I wasn’t expecting. My sword goes flying to my right. I catch Cato’s falling sword with my left hand, and wrap his sword arm in an elbow arm with my right. Cato starts to pound my back as I push with my hand, trying to get his sword out of his grip. I succeed before the pain gets to much, and spin, swinging the sword at Cato, face-high level. Cato leans back, not entirely avoiding the cut. Blood pours from a forehead wound. Cato quickly wipes it out of his eyes and throws himself at me.

He knocks the sword aside from him and grabs my throat. He slams me to the ground, and pins my sword arm down, while choking me. Fury explodes through every pore of my being. I will not die! My mind screams. The edges of my vision are now dotted with white. I scream and with my free hand, peel his fingers away from my throat. With an enormous effort of strength I throw him off me. I gasp for breath, clutching my throat. I’m still clutching his sword. I stagger to my feet, to find that the world is tipping sideways.

As Cato lifts himself up to his feet with a grunt I close my eyes, and raise my face to the rain. I think of Katniss and how soft her lips are. I think of the colour of her eyes, and how I asked her to marry me. I wanted to spend the rest of my short life with her. I would keep her alive and when it came to the two of us, I would be the one to go. Then I think of how her father told us of our blood relation and rage roils through me. I embrace my hatred. My passion, my thrill of the hunt. I open my eyes and a new power spreads through me. Instead of the usual shaking fury, I feel a calm sense of purpose. Everything is in sharp detail. I can see the rain drops glistening on the grass. The tremors in scared Peacekeepers. I turn my gaze back to Cato. He is holding a short sword and is striding towards me. I can feel the end coming.

I leap to my right, dodging his incoming sword. As his sword is falling into the place where I just was, I swing the sword at Cato’s hand. Cato roars in pain as his two first fingers fall to the ground. The sword slips from his slippery grasp, tumbling, glittering, to the ground. I reach over and push him back a couple of feet with my palm. He staggers back, his eyes filled with denial. I complete it, by slashing my sword up across Cato’s throat. I stand, Cato’s sword still in my hand as Cato topples backwards, blood pouring from his open mouth and throat.

I sink to the ground, and stab Cato’s sword into the wet earth beside him. I sit on my knees, taking in the exhilarating feeling of being alive. I breath in deeply and get to my feet. The rain is cold, dripping down my back. I retrieve my sword and walk over to Snow.

“Now, my wish will be granted, correct?” I ask, irritation, at the satisfied look on his face.

“But of course,” he replies. He signals to the men to pack up and go, but I catch his arm. About a hundred guns are now pointed at me.
“Shake on it,” I demand. Snow gives them the signal to stand down before offering his hand. I grip it and resist the urge to break his hand. He smiles at me as if knowing what I was thinking. I let go of his hand as if his touch burns. I grab my things and limp to the simple cave I call home.