Safe and Sound

Chapter Twenty Four - Unlucky Thirteen

Thirteen was never a lucky number. Never really has been. Superstitions made the Games worse and the Games made the superstitions worse. It bounced back at each other in my opinion. After the bloodbath, thirteen tributes were left to fight to the death. Look what happened. Most of them died a horrible death. Take Ryker for example. As if being shot in the leg by a girl from District 12 wasn't bad enough, he was them mauled to death by mutts. Lion mutts. These mutts were made buy the Capitol. The Capitol killed Ryker, not the mutt. The mutt was the bullet, the Capitol the trigger. It took someone to pull the trigger for the bullet to fly. Without a gun, a bullet was virtuously useless and likewise, without a bullet, a gun was useless. All the Districts needed to do was find a way to take this gun from the Capitol and prevent anymore bullets from flying. But it was easier said than done.

Now it was day thirteen of the Games and I was just sitting in my tree next to a sleeping Grayson, waiting for some sort of almighty horror to come and find us. While I was waiting, I was also eating some tinned fruit, which wasn't very nice. However, it was food. And I didn't really acre, I just needed to eat it without complaint if I wanted to stay alive for a bit longer.

As I ate and waited, I thought about the night before. Grayson and I had danced in the face of death, defying it for those precious minutes. It was a way of saying that you could stick us in an arena with blood luting kids, but we would keep going, we would keep smiling and most importantly, we would keep living. And by living, I meant that we would be savouring every moment that we were breathing. Whether it be running away from fire, being chased by Careers or moving in unison, we were going to do it with our heads held high and we were going to do it with dignity and pride for our District. Just because we were the poorest, because we were the smallest certainly did not mean we were the weakest. You could say that 12 was the strongest District, because even though we had virtually nothing, we still fought through. We were better fighters than Districts One, Two and Four. In fact, we were much better survivors than the lot of them. But to the Capitol, to Panem, we were weak. But to ourselves, we were the mockingjays. We just had to spread our wings a bit more, sing our song louder and eventually, someone would realise that we truly had heart.

Grayson with perhaps more than most.

"Did you sleep at all?" I suddenly heard Grayson mutter from beside me, his voice still half asleep and scratchy. I had never heard his morning voice before because of how he always got up before me and was always wide awake when I finally did rise from the depths of my dreams. It sounded husky and it was quite amusing, but it was definitely a good type of amusing. I turned around and looked at him with his bed head and his morning voice. It almost made me smile, but I had to shove it down considerably and quite hard to stop it from cracking right the way across my face madly.

"A little bit." I answered, Grayson reached out and took a bit of dried fruit, nibbling on it, "But I feel fine, honestly." I snickered a little bit, remembering the time when I had scolded Grayson for getting up early. Grayson seemed to think what I was thinking.

"You won't be feeling fine when the exhaustion catches up with you in a couple of hour's time." He said, in a perfect imitation of my voice. I was a little bit shocked, but it was in a good way. Everything so far seemed to be in a good way, which was good. But the thought of the number thirteen hung around in the back of my head. I discarded it through, not wanting to think about it. I shrugged it off and smiled at Grayson.

"You remember what I said?" I queried. Grayson shrugged slightly.

"Naturally." He tapped his head, "Good memory, see. I also find the most important or special things to me easier to remember, but that's just me and my head." My heart may or may not have skipped a beat at his words. Did he really find that simple sentence of mine important and special? This time, I was pushing down a blush. Grayson smirked slightly. "What are you going all pink for? It's just me, just me being me. I didn't say something wrong, did I?" I couldn't help but lean forwards and wrap my arms around his neck and bury my head into his shoulder.

"Oh Grayson. You are just...just..." I trailed off, not quite sure if there were any words suitable for this boy, besides wonderful, perfect and a stupid mistake of mine, which I did not regret.

"Likewise, Harper Anselin. Likewise." Grayson wasn't hugging back, but he was relaxed in my tight grip. He probably wasn't in a hugging mood, but I didn't really care. I definitely was. "And you know what, I'm going to miss you when we're both gone." I felt like crying, but I held it back. Grayson seemed to give me mood swings, some for the good, some for the bad, but it meant that I never was bored or emotionless. This was when Grayson hugged back.

"Way to make me emotional before we face the day. Thanks for that." I said, my voice thick with the tears that I was resisting. My eyes were brimming with them, but I held them back. Grayson squeezed me tighter, his arms strong around my middle, his hands resting on my back, his head buried in the crook of my neck. His hair tickled my jawline and he seemed to fit right in that gap. It felt right, but in all the wrong ways. He shouldn't have been hugging me, I shouldn't have been hugging him. But who said that two wrongs never made a right? It seemed very much so to me, right now, right here. When I was Grayson, I seemed to do all the things I had promised myself I would never do. Such as growing attached. But I should have been easily forgiven for that though, it is honestly hard not to become attached to Grayson Stengard.

"I didn't mean to." He said, sounding somewhat guilty. I let go of Grayson and relaxed. He did so too.

"Shall we keep moving. I want to go back as far into the forest as we can. It's safer that way. Though, at the same time, it's not. But I'm better with thick trees than I am with a steep valley, so let's go." I suggested. Grayson nodded in agreement, so we both packed up as quickly as we could. I then jumped from my branch and looked up to Grayson, who decided to climb down carefully. The only time he had jumped from a tree was when we had to escape from a Capitol made forest fire. But I suppose it was the spur of the moment that caused him to risk snapping both of his legs.

Once Grayson had jumped the last foot or so off of the tree, straightened himself out and put a knife ready in hand, we set off on a long trek. We both knew it was going to be a long trek, so we decided to make it interesting. Even though we still had a small amount of food left, we decided to hunt. I wanted to teach Grayson how to make a good snare out of twigs and sticks anyway.

It took a while, but eventually I showed Grayson how to make a simple yet effective snare. He seemed to pick it up rather quickly. He then wanted to see if he could use one of his knives for whittling so he could make the snares better so that it would kill the animal quicker and so it wasn't so long and painful. He tried this idea out on a relatively thin stick with one of my blunt knives, because he didn't want to ruin one of his throwing ones. He was pretty decent at it and he even pricked his finger with the end of his whittled stick. He had to wrap it up with he end of his t-shirt to stop the blood flow, which was slightly amusing.

We swapped and shared hunting skills, before we both dared to take on each other's weapons. I can't remember why we thought we should have a go, but it was likely that we thought that in case one of us died and the other was able to take the weapons, they'd be able to put them to good use. If I died, I would desperately want Grayson to win. I wanted to win, of course, but I also wanted Grayson to get out of here alive. It was hard and frankly, I didn't want to think about it just yet.

So Grayson took my bow first. He slung the quiver onto his back and he managed to reach back and get an arrow out quickly. He even nocked it pretty quickly too. He then rose the bow. Yes, he was shaking slightly, but his posture was pretty good nonetheless.

"Relax, you're looking good. Just try not to shoot me and I'll be okay." I said, leaning against a nearby tree, "But maybe pull the bowstring back to the further end of your lip from the bow and it will be even better...yes, great. Now let go when you are ready."

Grayson took a deep breath, and let go of the string. The arrow zipped towards a tree, hit it, then bounced straight back off again. Grayson looked over to me and I clapped. He smiled. I loved that smile. It was beautiful. Harper, stop. Stop now. I wanted to get rid of the voice in my head, but that was impossible. I just had to ignore it, even though I shouldn't have been ignoring it. Sometimes, you should listen to the voices. But only when they are giving advice. Apart from that, ignore them.

Grayson practiced a little bit more, and eventually, he managed to get an arrow to stay in. He then gave up, calling that little exercise a day, deciding that he would be able to shoot someone if the time should come. He honestly preferred knives, though. I heard him muttering about it as he collected my arrows and put my bow and quiver next to my backpack and, rather reluctantly, handed me a few of his knives. They were well polished and very sharp. I knew that if I so much as touched one of points, I would be gushing. It was obviously far more dangerous than just a well whittled stick.

"I'm trusting you not to accidently kill yourself. Especially as you are throwing a little bit over ten metres. Plus, knives are quite sharp. Especially these, these knives are designed for a brutal yet quick murder." Grayson said, remembering what I had told Haymitch before training. I loved his memory, also. The voices in my head were probably giving up.

"So, shall I just..." I started, trailing off. I twisted the handle of the knife in my hand, feeling the cool metal underneath my fingers. I instantly knew how much I preferred a bow and arrows, but the feeling of a knife didn't particularly bother me as such.

"Do what I do. You've seen me throw plenty of times." Grayson suggested. I scoffed slightly.

"But you are generally going very fast, literally, your hands are like blurs when you handle these things. I swear, you could probably do more damage than a machine gun could." I said. Grayson chuckled a bit, smiling. "It's true. Okay, fine. If I kill or maim you in any way, I am very sorry." Grayson took a few steps back, hiding slightly behind a tree. I knew he was joking, and it actually made me laugh quietly to myself as I looked at a tree opposite me, roughly fifteen metres away.

I then pictured Grayson just before he's about to throw a knife. How he stood. How high he held his knife. How sometimes he would take aim with the other hand. How he squinted slightly. How he lifted his chin a fraction of a centimetre. How he bit down on his tongue or bottom lip. How he flicked his wrist when he released. How he always leaned forwards slightly as he watched the knife fly. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to adjust my body like Grayson did oh-so-naturally.

I slowly opened my eyes and pulled my arm back. Grayson then suddenly made some sort of squeaking noise and came running out from behind the tree towards me, hands outstretched. He then came scurrying behind me, almost leaning on my shoulder as he adjusted my arm and standing position. He was biting down on his tongue as he moved me about, obviously concentrating hard. After one more quick stroke and twist of my plait, he took a few large steps backwards.

"When you're ready." He called out. I then bit down on my own tongue, before releasing the knife. It completely missed the tree, but I didn't mind. I looked at Grayson, who gave me an encouraging smile. "Need a little bit of assistance? I can help you get it in the tree if you'd like."

"Yeah, why not?" I said, collecting the knife. It took me a couple of minutes to find it, but I got it in the end. I walked back over to our spot, where Grayson proceeded to literally stand right by me, the side of his head pressed somewhere on the back of mine. He helped position me then raise my arm. He helped me pull it back. Even though I could feel quite how frail he was, he felt strong and sturdy. "Ready?" I nodded. I could feel his breath on my cheek and the ends of his hair on my temple.

With that, he pulled my arm back and helped me flick it forwards. The knife went whizzing through the air and lodged right in the tree. I smiled broadly, proud of my achievement, and turned to Grayson, but I was still in his grip. We were very close, our noses just about touching. My smile faded, but only slightly and not in any sort of bad way. We were so close and we were getting closer. I didn't know what was quite going on and I could tell that Grayson didn't either. Were we going to for real or was this all for a good show?

Whatever it was for, I felt butterflies (perhaps even mockingjays) flutter about madly in my stomach, as if it was some sort form of cage trapping them in and they had just managed to find some sort of way to escape, but it would involve a lot of shaking and flying into the walls. My heartbeat had picked up and I was suddenly very unaware of all my other surroundings.

Our lips were about to touch, when we heard a yell of anguish somewhere nearby. We instantly went into unison mode and tore away from each other and grabbed our stuff. I slung my backpack onto my back and slipped my quiver diagonally on over the top. Grayson had thrown his backpack on and grabbed three knives, two for his left hand and one for his right. My arrow was nocked in and we were both poised in our slight bent kneed positions, ready to attack. We moved in unison, looking about, trying to spot the source of the yell. The birds and butterflies in my stomach hadn't quite disappeared yet and it was somehow putting me off. Grayson and I, we had...no. Stop. You didn't. You would have stopped yourself before it happened...wouldn't you? I wasn't quite sure if I would have stopped myself. Whatever I would have done, it was behind me now, I had to move on. I looked over to Grayson, who caught my eye and nodded once. We didn't need words to talk to communicate with one another.

The cannon blew. Some rustling in the distance, like someone running.

We both stepped back a couple of paces, slowly and carefully. We both made sure to keep our tread light and ready to have to run at any minute. I slowly raised my bow and pulled my bowstring back as Grayson rose his arm, ready to throw his first knife. We stayed poised and silent, like cats, waiting for the person or people to emerge. When they did, we would be ready.

It took a few minutes, but eventually someone came running out of the bushes and trees, into our space. It was the girl from 8, Angora. She looked about my age, sixteen, but it was a possibility that she was fifteen. But didn't matter because she also looked murderous and very much like she was lusting blood and now, it was going to be District 12's. Angora had blood splattered all over her murky, yellow/brown coloured jacket. Her reddish blonde hair fell to her chest in wild curls and was rather messy, covered with dried blood and undergrowth. She bared her teeth in a maddened way, crazed with the idea of killing. Grayson and I exchanged a quick look. The butterflies and birds were calming down now, their spirits completely dampened by the sight of Angora, if I could even call her by her name anymore. The Games had poisoned her and it was actually quite sad to see what had presumably been a nice girl be so quickly changed into this monster that craved blood.

But now wasn't the time to be thinking, she was probably about to kill us.

I pointed my bow at her, aiming my arrow towards her heart. Grayson had done the same, but he had aimed for her throat, like he had done with Glow. Angora then raised the sword she had been holding. She also had one at her hip, attached to her belt. I hadn't noticed it before now and I was shocked that I hadn't, it was definitely very long and very sharp. Brutal would have been a good word to describe it.

Angora looked between Grayson and I, before gnashing her teeth slightly. She looked crazy, maddened, poisoned by the Games as so to speak. They Games had turned her into a killer, a crazed killer by the state of her jacket and hair. Grayson looked like he was analysing her, trying to find her weak spots. I could instantly see that her left hand was closer to her body than her right, almost protectively. She had obviously hurt it while killing the other tribute just a few minutes ago. I wondered who she had killed, but I would find out if I survived the fight with her. It was obviously going to be a fight between Angora and District 12. I hope you're enjoying this, I thought to the Capitol. Even though they couldn't hear me, I felt like informing them.

"District Twelve, huh? District Twelve with their coal, their famous, star crossed lovers, their fire and their mockingjays. Well did you know that isn't enough to win the Games. That isn't enough to get one of you out of here alive." Angora sneered. I felt like letting go of my bowstring and killing her on the spot, but I knew it wasn't herself talking. It was the Games talking, taking over her mind slowly. Grayson seemed to also sense this. "And do you know what, neither of you are going to have the chance. Neither of you are getting out."

That's when I released the arrow. Angora managed to duck out of the way, but only just. I managed to catch her on the upper arm of her sword hand. Angora cried out slightly, but she snapped back to her original mode, and she was looking directly at me. She started to run in my direction and I had already nocked another arrow, but she crashed into me and pushed me to the ground, where my head slammed against a tree trunk. I tried to sit up, but I fell back down. My head hurt a lot. All I could make out from my blurry vision and lying position was that Grayson had stood in for me. He had clashed right against Angora, pushing her away from me. I thought he had been stabbed and I had almost screamed, until I saw that Grayson was holding the sword that Angora had had previously on her belt. He had pulled it out and was pointing it at her. The knives that he had had in his hand were poking out of his pocket and he looked ready to fight. There was pretty much nothing I could do. I hated feeling this helpless, but I could feel my head bleeding and I could feel myself losing consciousness. No, stay awake. Do not repeat what happened when you shouted at Grayson. Help him, you have to help him.

He could die.

As I managed to raise myself slightly, I saw that Grayson and Angora were in the middle of a full on fight, their swords clashing against one another. I could hear the metal upon metal, but I couldn't see clearly. It was blurry and the world seemed to be swaying. I cursed my idiocy and my reflexes for being too slow. I wanted to be fighting alongside Grayson, as a team, but I had to go and hit my head where it was most vulnerable. My head felt warm and damp at the back and it was throbbing, sending nasty spurts of pain right through me.

I heard Angora's shouts and growls as she and Grayson stabbed at each other mercilessly. This was definitely a fight to the death. I had to intervene otherwise Grayson would get hurt severely, and I wasn't going to let that happen. Not for as long as I was alive. I wanted Grayson to be safe and sound, to feel secure and warm. Not cold and bitter, vulnerable and in danger.

I used the tree to heave myself to my feet, which took several attempts. I ignored the sounds of the fight and leaned against the tree. I felt the blood trickling down the back of my neck, staining my hair and drying on my skin. I gripped my bow in my sweaty hand, and realised I had nocked it before Angora had tackled me, but the arrow had fallen out at the sudden impact. I looked about carefully, until I saw my arrow glinting a couple of metres away from me. I staggered over to it and gingerly bent down and picked it up. My head span, but I ignored it and tried to nock the arrow back into my bow. It took a couple of attempts, but eventually it clipped into place.

I rose my bow, trembling terribly. I noticed that Grayson had seen me and he knew what I was going to do. Even though I couldn't see very well, I could tell that he was muttering to himself, thinking of a plan. All I had to do was shoot my arrow and not hit Grayson. I took several deep breaths, before I pulled my bowstring back to my lip. As I released the arrow, I breathed out. But I fell down onto my knees again, too exhausted and in too much pain to stand.

The next part seemed to go in slow motion, everything slower than it should have been. As the arrow flew right between Grayson and Angora, Grayson bent down and seemed to reach to the floor or his boot, I couldn't tell. Angora had ducked, but now she stood up again, stunned, but nonetheless angered. She raised her sword as soon as Grayson was straitening up again. He dropped his sword and went right into her body as she brought the sword down.

It still seemed to be going in slow motion as Angora screamed in pain and fell to her knees, clutching her bleeding abdomen. It would have all been good if Grayson had not fallen down with her.