The Capitol's Tribute

Shock overwhelmed my body. I jostled violently around the shoulder of the person who had stolen me. Puffs of smoke and bursts of volcanic liquid flew through the air, picking up speed and quantity. All I could hear, though, was the sound of my captor’s heavy pants and his shoes clomping on the dirt floor. I noticed them slowing down and I stayed limp on their back.

“Can you walk?” The voice was deep. It most certainly wasn’t Brant.

“Yes,” My voice sounded detached from my body.

“Good,” They tossed me gently to my feet. The face of Bruno met my eyes as he made sure I was well enough to stand. “Because you may be light, but I can’t outrun this lava with you holding me down.”

I furrowed my dark eyes, somewhere between sorrowful tears and confusion. I never got to truly mourn Freddy.

A blast of molten lava slammed into the tree next to us with a powerful crack. We both stepped backwards, slowly picking up the pace into a sprint without a word.

I felt like I hadn’t stopped running since I woke up this morning.

Explosions rang out frequently, blinding me as we ran through the thinning forest. Bruno’s back was the only thing guiding me through my stupor.

A fire ball skidded right past my head, singeing my blonde locks. I screamed and Bruno’s head turned back. His black eyes enlarged, not looking at me—but something behind me. I chanced a glance. As soon as I did, my throat constricted. Nearly fifteen feet away from us was a fast approaching swimming pool of lava, steaming and burning everything in its path.

“CLIMB!” Bruno shouted, pointing up at a tree.

“Are you insane?” I cried. “We’ll burn!”

He shook his head and lifted effortlessly up on the lowest branch, swinging upwards. I did the same—much clumsier—on the adjacent tree. My raw hands started to bleed again.

Once we were both midway up, we were safe from the pool of lava. For some reason it didn’t eat away the trees like it did everything else.

“They’re genetically modified.” Bruno called over to me, sensing my concern. “Remember how they were safe from the mist?” I nodded mutely, “Well, I figured they would be the same for this too—” A block of lava the size of Haymitch stormed by. I winced.

“That doesn’t mean we’re safe from that.” I said nervously.

All we could do was wait out the Gamemakers play, hoping they didn’t hit us.

“Why did you save me?” I demanded a little ungraciously. I was a walking emotional wreck, waiting to burst. I needed to make small talk to stop thinking about the fire that kept almost hitting us.

“There’ve been enough casualties today, don’t you think?” He asked solemnly.

“The sooner we die off, the sooner it’s over. For everyone.” I answered, wincing as another fire bomb whirred past us.

“Not like that.” He shook his head, “Not like Seven—”

“Freddy,” I corrected him coldly; “His name was Freddy Mason.”

He nodded apologetically, “It was too late for Freddy. But I can give your family something to mourn when this is over.”

“So, what?” I readjusted myself on the branch, “You going to kill me when the storm blows over?”

Bruno didn’t seem to have an answer for that.

“I just need to see Brant.” I pled. “You can kill me. Just let me say goodbye to my brother.”

He looked at me strangely, like he didn’t believe I could welcome death so easily. But, it had been an excruciating week. I didn’t want to play anymore.

“Okay,” He agreed. “It’s best we part ways once this is over.”

I nodded slowly, noticing the explosions had stopped rather suddenly. I peered down at the ground and watched in amazement as the lava dissipated before my eyes. The sky began to darken. Night had fallen within moments.

The anthem played vibrantly in my ears. The emblem covered the sky. The body count was about to be displayed. I held on tighter, desperate to hear news about Brant. As far as Bruno knew, he was still alive. That was a good sign.

The first face almost knocked me off the tree. Ridley’s spiteful smirk covered the screen. I half-glanced at Bruno and he stared unblinkingly at her face. A small amount of guilt twinkled in his eyes. He had killed her.

The girl from 3 lit up the sky.

Then, Holland’s mousy complexion hit me. Her flaming red hair was down in waves. My shut eyes kept replayed her last moments: my arrow cocking viciously and cutting straight into her back. It was painless, but cruel. I had murdered Holland and everyone in Panem knew it. Peeta knew it, Finnick knew it, Haymitch knew it. And they could never un-know it.

But, Holland’s face wasn’t the one I had dreaded seeing. It was the next victim.

It was little Freddy Mason.

A small sob fell from my lips. I covered my trembling mouth with my bloody hand, staring up at that bright, innocent smile. Those big brown eyes gazed hauntingly into mine. There was no way that little boy could have known that this picture would grace the sky as a victim of the Games. And it should never have been. That little boy should be sitting at home with Johanna Mason, smiling and laughing, being a normal eleven year old boy.

I wept silently as the male tribute from 8 and the female tributes from 9 and 10 filled the space. I wept, ignoring their images. They meant nothing to me. I didn’t even remember them. Their pictures notified me of their district, otherwise, they were unmemorable. They weren’t Freddy.

I didn’t know how long I had drowned in my tears, but by the time I dried my eyes, Bruno was gone. Either I had been too preoccupied with my obnoxious sobs or Bruno was immensely sneaky. I hadn’t heard him leave.

I sniffed, retying back my hair, and slid down the tree as fast as my pained hands would allow. My medication was gone. All the food and water were gone. Freddy had taken them with him. I was completely and utterly alone.

My feet made contact with the ground, crunching leaves and twigs. I readjusted my shirt, my tired eyes falling on the shiny gold pin. I straightened out the Mockingjay, heaving a sigh. Twice now Bruno had saved my life. All for a pin and the chance that people will mourn my body. It didn’t seem logical but I was still alive.

There was nothing left for me to do but find Brant.

As I kicked off into the quiet forest, my numb mind whispered: Nineteen down, four more to go.

I had a creeping suspicion that tonight would be the last time the body count lit up the sky. Tomorrow, someone would be named Victor.

It was nearly over.