Impavid

”Don’t ever do that again,” Finnick growled, shutting the door behind him as he pointed at me. I was sitting in the last car of the train, watching the districts go by as we head towards twelve. I turned and looked at him, cocking my head and pulling my brows together. “Don’t ever go against my judgment like you did in the games. Understand?”

There was a very off anger to his voice. I had never heard Finnick mad, not in the short time that I had known him. I had heard him annoyed, frustrated, amused and happy, but I had never heard him mad, his voice colored dark like the deep parts of the ocean. “But I’m still here.”

“You’re here by sheer luck.”

“Or skill.”

“You could have gotten killed the minute that boy from seven turned on you.” He began pacing back and forth. For an eighteen year old, he often spoke like he was much older and wiser. His blonde hair was pushed out of his face, sea colored eyes flashing. “You were supposed to join and stay in the career pack until there were five of you left in the arena, Lana. You completely ignored me.”

I shifted. “I don’t understand why you’re yelling at me.”

“I’m not yelling at you!”

I pointed at him. “Yes you are! Right there! You just yelled at me! Why are you so angry with me? I went in that nightmare and I had to kill to get out, and now I’m here. I’m on the victory tour like I’m supposed to be, and I’m alive.”

“But you could have died.”

“The funny thing about going into a fight until the death: you could die.”

“You didn’t trust my judgment.”

“I did trust your judgment. I didn’t trust the career’s judgment.”

He stopped pacing and walked up to me. He stood much taller than me, so he leaned down so that we were eye level. I had never been that close to him, not really. Up close he was beautiful, his eyes swimming and his lips full, skin tanned from the sun. I could see why everyone in the capitol was in love with him. “You won’t ever do that do me again.”

He began walking away from me. I realized that I was shaking and I let out a trembling breath. But I didn’t think it was because I was scared. No, I think Finnick made me shiver for reasons I had never understood. “What?” I demanded as the door opened for him. “You don’t want me to embarrass you again? Fine.”

He looked at me over his shoulder. “You didn’t embarrass me.” He hesitated. “You scared me.”

Without looking at me, he left, the door automatically shutting behind him. My heart was hammering harder than it had when the final canon had gone off and I had been proclaimed victor.

A door opening made me open my eyes. Silver light from the room entered my window, pooling over my bed and on the floor. I turned my head to see Finnick slipping in my room, giving me an apologetic smile for waking me. I shifted in the bed, making room for him to sit.

Finnick made himself comfortable, leaning against the headboard. I was laying so close to his side that I could feel the heat radiating from his body and I could smell salty soap coming off of his skin.

For a long time he was quiet. In fact, he was so quiet that I had began to fall asleep again, eyes fluttering and head sinking further into my pillow before I heard him sigh, making me open my heavy eyes too look up at him.

“Are you leaving?” I asked. My voice didn’t sound like my own, but I knew it was because I was half asleep. Way to sound intelligent. “Or is my company just that thrilling?”

He smiled at my joke. “While you are certainly a lively companion, I’m leaving in the morning.”

“Mmmm.”

“You’ll watch over Mags when I’m gone?”

“Course I will. Dinner every night.”

“Every night? You sure are generous?”

“I love sharing. Except sharing my bed.”

He chuckled then, leaning over and kissing the top of my head. I was barely coherent enough to even remember that he did that, lips lingering in my hair for a moment. Finnick always said goodbye to me when he left for his trips to the capitol. He seemed far more resigned this time. Then again, I was already asleep before he got back up and walked out of my door.

After his visit, I had dreams of Finnick murmuring something to me as I lay there, something that I couldn’t remember, while brushing my hair with one of his hands.

The next morning I woke up early before sunrise. Slipping on a wet suit, I walked out onto the beach. The sun was not up, but grey light stretched over the district. The water was a dark blue in the light, and it looked as frigid as it felt when I ran to it, crashing into it with a shallow dive.

All of my muscles screamed and wanted to lock. It felt like thousands of needles were stabbing me, and my lungs felt like they were caked with ice. But I kept moving, kicking my feet and swimming powerfully against the wave, gasping for air and stopping when I got extremely far out.

Treading water, I looked around. My teeth were chattering slightly, but my muscles felt good. It was like my body appreciated being put to hard work. I could not continue swimming in front of me, because I saw a rip current forming. So instead, I swam length wise, covering the entire distance of the shore before swimming back to the sand and pulling myself out of the water.

My limbs were numb and my fingers were trembling. But inside of my body, my joints felt warm, burning. I had stopped doing a lot of physical things after the games like running and swimming. Now for some reason, I wanted to start again. So though I was tired and cold from swimming, I began running the beach, struggling in the sand.

Heat poured down from the sun as it climbed higher in the sky, a burning penny. I pushed on, gasping for air. When I couldn’t run, I walked at a fast pace. Finally I reached my home again, leaning on the external wall for support as I leaned over, breathing hard. I had forgotten how much farther I could swim than run.

With a warm shower and throwing on another pair of clothes, I found myself making breakfast at Mags. She sat at the table, watching me and smiling at me all the while. I couldn’t help but smile at her. When I turned, she tapped her throat and her mouth. I smiled, nodding.

“Upon one summer’s morning,” I sang lightly, moving around the kitchen. “I carefully did stray, down by the walls of wopping, where I met a sailor gay.”

Sliding eggs, grilled fish and seaweed with a squeeze of lemon and a glass of water that was flavored like citrus. The delicacies that we could have from the capitol were insane. I tried to stick to the food that I was used to as opposed to the colorful, succulent tasting food that I could get from the capitol.

Mags and I ate in silence. She had lost the ability to talk after a stroke, though she could mumble quite quietly when she wanted to. It had taken time to understand her gestures, but now I found it hard to believe that others couldn’t. Mags was quite easy to understand, for me.

After we finished, she slide her hand across the table, patting it gently. I grinned at her, picking up her hand and kissing it lightly. I knew that she was thanking me. I could see it in her eyes and feel it in the pat. But it was I who was constantly thanking her.

While it was true that Mags was supposed to be my main mentor because I had been the female tribute, Finnick had taken to telling me as much as he could. I never understood why, but Finnick seemed to be determined from the beginning that I was the one who was coming out of the arena between the boy and I.

But even though Finnick had helped me in the physical aspect, Mags had kept me sane. She had a calming effect, and would murmur words of reassurance. She could speak clearly back then, and would often tell me stories of our district when I couldn’t sleep at night.

Mags and Finnick both treated me better than they had the other boy.

“Mags?” she nodded, urging me to go on. “Do you remember in my games, when you and Finnick were mentors?” She nodded again, making a sad face. Her hands wound one another, listening. “Why did you give me special treatment? You didn’t give Khai the same treatment.”

Mags sighed. She beckoned me closer, so I stood and got on my knees in front of her, placing my hands in her lap. She felt them, her hands wrinkled but still strong, able to work. She brushed a strand of hair from my face and tapped my shoulder, placed her hand on my chest, and then placed her hand on her chest.

I bowed my head. I suddenly felt very emotional, like the tides of guilt and weariness were coming in to the shore, crashing against my beachy heart. “You thought I had a better heart?” She nodded. She tapped my temple then and made a fist with her hand. “And a strong mind.” She held my face then, smiling at me. “And a beautiful face?”

“Beautiful,” she agreed very brokenly. I didn’t even realize that I was crying until she swiped a tear off of my face. Her eyes searched my face and she squeezed my hands in her lap. “No.”

I laughed lightly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.”

After cleaning up and washing the dishes, I lay on top of the covers in Mags bed. She was laying silently by my side, looking out of the window. I could have come home right after dinner because she was fully capable of taking care of herself, but I liked her silent company. It made me feel better.

An hour or so went by and she was still awake. Fiddling with the hem of my shirt, I smiled slightly. “I remember a story you told me,” I began slowly, earning her attention. “It was the night before the games and I was too scared to sleep, so you told me a story to calm me.

“In a land far away, there was a young girl. She had hair red as the sunset and eyes as blue as the sea, and a singing voice that called men for miles. She was always sad and every night she walked the beach, collecting shells and singing of her lover who sailed away and never came back.

“Every night, the man of the ocean, Triton would hide be hind the rocks off the shore. His hair was blonde and long, eyes green as seaweed. He would listen to the girls lament and cry, for he loved her voice but he was hidden away from her in the sea.

“One night as she walked the beach, there was a storm. But she went anyways, singing her song in the cold rain as she collected shells. She wandered along the beach and Triton listened to her, but a large wave began to come and the girl could not see it.

“In his panic and love for the girl, Triton came from behind the rock and lifted his conch shell to his lips, and blew a mighty blast. The blast echoed for miles and miles, cutting through the storm. The sea stopped churning, the clouds parted for the stars, and the wave fell back to the sea.

“The girl cried and thanked him, and told him how lovely his hair and his eyes were. And thus she fell in love with Triton who saved her life, and she went to the sea with him, never to sing on the beach again.”

It was a story everyone in district four new. But so rarely was it told anymore. Children wanted to hear the stories of how their favorite victors won the games, or they wanted to hear the most glorious battles in the hunger games fought between tributes. They no longer cared for the traditions carried.

Mags patted me once more, letting me know that she enjoyed the story and that she would sleep well. I smiled and kissed her on the head, leaving her to turn over and sleep peacefully. She deserved to sleep peacefully.

At home, I found myself laying in bed, thinking of the girl and Triton. He had been so willing to save her, to reveal himself and blow his magical shell. I wondered what it would be like to love someone so completely, so wholly that all fear was cast out and there was only that person.

When I slept, it wasn’t Triton’s eyes I dreamt of.