‹ Prequel: Suffocate
Status: Giving this re-write a go

Inhale

Compressions

There’s a smell of burning, and I see a wisp of smoke disappear above Peeta’s head. Katniss is over him, hitting him and calling his name as if this will bring him back from the dead. He’d fallen into Finnick on the way, and he pushes himself warily to his feet now, shoots me a look and tightens the grip on his trident.

Katniss may well turn, with Peeta dead she has no reason to stay. She can go this alone, as she had wanted all along. I wait, feel myself tense although it’s not for the crying teenager in front of me.

It’s for a noise that doesn’t come. There are birds somewhere, the hot breeze whistling through trees.

That’s it. No canon.

My breath hitches, and I’m on my knees next to Katniss before I can speak, Finnick has shifted his weight. Why is he moving so slowly, why hasn’t he realised? “Canon,” I manage, before I am turning my gaze back to Peeta. Katniss is leant over him, blocking my route and I go to explain before she’s flung back into the undergrowth.

Finnick appears, caught up and ready. “I’ll do compressions.” It’s an order, and I know where that leaves me so I scramble to the other side, back to Katniss and move Peeta’s head slightly so it is tilted back and his mouth falls open. Finnick has already started, a familiar pattern with much more weight behind it than I could manage. Finnick will encourage Peeta’s heart to beat. I will make sure he has enough air in him that it can travel around his body where needed. It’s not quite like drowning, but it’s similar.

I lean in, force a breath into Peeta’s mouth. Finnick is concentrating so hard he doesn’t look at me, so I time my breaths around the compressions, every time Finnick has done thirty I force two lungfuls of air into Peeta.

I risk a turn, Katniss is where she had fallen, pushed on her knees and waiting desperately. The arrow she had loaded in her bow is cutting into the ground.

“Elle.” I twist back, press my lips to Peeta’s again. I need Finnick to look at her, to realise that if Peeta stays dead she has already decided that alliance is over. I’d dropped the trident I was holding a few feet away, useless.

Twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty.

I breathe again and feel some bounce back at me, shooting back as Peeta gives a weak cough and looks like he wants to sit. I hold down his shoulder, go to tell him to keep calm but I have the full force of Katniss crash into me as she dives on him, her tears starting again.

I allow them a little space, knees creak as I gather the trident again. They’re speaking, his voice raspy and low, hers desperate and broken with tears. Finnick is catching his breath and I watch him watch them. Knowing exactly where his thoughts are headed.

She was not this good an actress.

Katniss sobs, and Finnick blames this on her hormones, that imaginary baby within her. I can’t work out her expression but she keeps crying, looks back and forth between us. “How are you,” Finnick pushes Peeta gently, “Do you think you can move on?”

Katniss fights this, and Finnick stands, another look to check I’m doing okay and gathers his pieces. I move the axe where it has been digging into my hip, there’s a thin slice in my wetsuit now.

After a few minutes we decide to keep going, slowly. It’s much too early to stay in one place, and we’re too open here.

“Slowly would be better than not at all.” Finnick helps Peeta up and I go to take his other side. He shoots me a smile and tries to hold his weight steady but within a few seconds I can tell he needs me to stay standing. “Thank you.” He manages, I smile as if it was no big deal.

How would they make this out, back at the Capitol? Why would they imagine Finnick and I would try so hard to save another tribute, someone who will become an enemy? I hope we haven’t made anything too obvious.

Finnick passes me my sword, and I keep it in my left hand, Peeta on my right. Katniss declares that she will lead, she looks somewhat together now and has her bow back in place. She doesn’t comment on how I make a point of looking at it. But she knows, she knows that I know how close she came. And now she owes us, big time.

As we start moving there’s a ridiculous little argument about Katniss, how when deafened last year, the medical team have made her practically superhuman to the point where she hears the buzzing of the force-field. I was fairly certain force-fields did not buzz, but she keeps it going, Finnick joins in and even tries to suggest me having my eyesight repaired before the Games is similar.

“I was pretty blind before so as long as I can see I’m happy.” I manage, unsure why we’re wasting time dawdling on such a silly conversation. Maybe I’m agitated because try as he might, Peeta is resting a lot of weight into my side and my shoulder is aching with the effort.

Finally we start, Katniss up front, Peeta and I practically lame in the middle and Finnick following. We travel along for ages, Katniss ever so often says we are too close to the force-field and we move slightly to one side.

The landscape does not change, normally there are a mix. In my first games there was the sparse forest, the lake, the fields, the ravines and cliff faces. Here it is just this odd woodland.

After a while we have a word for it, pulled from a distant memory of a textbook. Jungle, we are in the jungle.

More importantly, we are wandering around the circumference of what appears to be a very small arena and dehydrating.

I make this comment after a while and we rest again, the relief instantaneous as Peeta leans against a tree.

Katniss heads up another tree and I start to look around, we repeat our earlier layout. Peeta watches up at Katniss, Finnick watches me. There’s still no water, but in a low tree I see nuts, dangling as it a bunch of grapes. I tug them down and start to move them about in my hands. They look so familiar.

I run through options, not my first time in an arena, definitely not. The training centre? I don’t think so, I am certain I know what these are and Finnick makes me jump as he appears silently behind me. “What do you have there?” I let him take them and he shrugs, pulling a face as he answers his own question, “No idea.”

“I have definitely seen them before,” I assure us both, “But not like, not in a tree.”

“They’re not from home.” I shoot him a look. He smiles at the glare, “Don’t eat anything you are not one hundred percent sure of, you know that.”

“Thank you, oh masterful mentor.” I snatch them back, determined to suss them out. Finnick is about to tease me again when Katniss reappears.

The arena is small, as I’ve said, symmetrical, all jungle and the water in the centre. We are back to worrying about water. Which is a much more important topic. The walking continues, further from the force-field and slightly more on the flat.

Occasionally, Katniss or Finnick head to one side, looking for anything promising but there is nothing.

“And there was definitely nothing that could purify water at the Cornucopia?” I test, everyone is growing agitated and tired. Peeta has caused half of my body to go numb and heavy.

“Unless you saw something I didn’t.” Finnick can’t keep his words light now, he’s worrying.

We are all worrying and tension is thick.

My annoyance lands on our leader, “Katniss.” She pauses, “Look, we haven’t seen anything and we’re just looping around. We should find a spot, at least for a while so we can actually all search for water.” She debates this, I jerk my head towards Peeta who is pale, and dripping with sweat under what must be the mid afternoon sun. It’s always hotter in the mid-afternoon.

“I’ll find a spot.” Finnick chips in, agreeing with me and vanishing towards the force-field. Within a couple of minutes he’s back and I practically heave Peeta up a slight bit of hill. It’s a good patch, the force-field is at our backs and we have a tiny advantage from the incline.

I drop Peeta, unable to help him sit gently and apologise. He shakes it off, rubbing across his forehead as I focus on the way that blood is flowing back down my right side, prickling pain accompanying it.

We wait a while, all we seem to have done the whole day is walk, sit and wait. What a boring spectacle for the audience. We won’t be in focus I wouldn’t think. The Career pack will be providing much more interest.

A memory jabs at me, Cashmere in a long pink gown, complaining lowly about the hideous ribbons cutting down one side as she leans over a glass bowl. The bowl is full, some thick sauce with little nuts floating in it. The shells have been decorated beforehand, berries adorn some, and others are covered in tiny pink flowers to represent the coming of spring. You break them off and eat the insides.

I pull one of the nuts from the bunch and find a weak spot, breaking open the shell and tossing it aside. It’s the same nut. I am certain of it. I look up and realise I’d lost myself in that thought. Katniss has gone, Peeta is breathing a little lighter and looking at me. “You look like you’ve worked something out.”

“I’ve eaten these before, at a party.” Finnick draws his attention from the surroundings, repeats my statement as a question, “Definitely, at the Capitol. They were in some sauce, it was for the start of Spring.”

“You’re certain?” I nod and quick as a flash he grabs the nut from my open palm and shoves it in his mouth. Even sure of myself anxiety hits me and I am waiting for him to have some sort of attack, to foam at the mouth and collapse. He swallows, “Not the best.” I do not return his smile. “If I’m still alive in an hour then I guess we have dinner.”

“Can you imagine…” I start, finding some twisted joke in it to hide my anger at his recklessness, “literally killed by my bad cooking.”

“What a way to go.” He muses, a small smile adorns his face. God he looks breathlessly beautiful, hot and bothered, shimmering with the same sweat we all wear. But the rays of light hit him in such a way. I hate sometimes thinking of him as beautiful, focusing on his beauty when that is exactly what the vultures in the Capitol do.

He breaks my spell, clears his throat mockingly and offers me his hand. “If we’re aiming on staying here we should make some sort of shelter.” I don’t disagree with this, I’ve not seen any bugs yet but that isn’t to say they won’t appear in the dark. The jungle is a perfect canvas, the long and thick blades of grass weave easily, and leaves make the perfect cover.

We focus on mats, enough for everyone to sleep on, before we start to make additional ones, string them up as walls to protect us from the sun and any other elements if needed. Peeta watches with interest, starts his own mat but he is working at a snail’s pace, his hands not used to the techniques that Finnick and I can do in our sleep.

We start on bowls next, let ourselves imagine that Katniss will come back and lead us to a fresh spring that we can dip them in. Peeta takes one and instead staggers to his feet, filling it with nuts from trees. One of them is close to the force-field and slips from his hands. They crash against the unseen wall and there is a crackle as the illusion of further jungle vanishes for a split second. The picture reappears but to Peeta’s delight, the nuts are toasted.

As Finnick hasn’t died, or suffered anything worse than a dry mouth I let him finish the bowls and Peeta and I spend a while gently throwing the nuts against the force-field, filling the largest bowl by the time his fiancée gets back to us.

I can tell by her face it’s bad news, but we can at least counter the thirst with our hunger being sorted out. “He knew where it was,” Katniss says, holding up some hideous looking rodent, “He’d been drinking recently when I shot him out of a tree, but I couldn’t find his source. I swear, I covered every inch of ground in a thirty-yard radius.”

“Can we eat him?” Peeta asks, and in our close proximity I literally hear his stomach gurgle. In the end Peeta leads that effort, the rat is gutted and sliced into cubes. He uses our earlier trick and presses the meat against the force-field, there is the now familiar crackle and he pulls the meat back on his stick. It’s almost barbecued and smells cooked.

We celebrate for a moment before food becomes all-consuming and we stuff ourselves on the nuts and chunks of meat as Finnick drills Katniss about her find, searching for some hint with the water she may have missed.

Squished side by side in the hut I can feel exhaustion starting to creep over me, and as the sky fades from pink to grey and the sun starts to set I can tell everyone is much the same.

We have drank nothing since the Games started. With the heat and effort we’ve been putting in we will dehydrate quickly, dead within a couple of days. I try to run through options for water again, no rain, no pools that are not salt.

Maybe we will rely on sponsors, but if that is the case I can’t believe we’ve gone at least ten hours with nothing. Katniss and Finnick will be two of the most popular people in here, money must be rolling in for Haymitch and Mags.

It all goes darker suddenly, and then the sky illuminates and the Capitol seal appears. I had forgotten how much I hated this part. The wait for the pictures of everyone who has died today. I know some already of course. Finnick had killed two people himself, I was equally at fault.

We had counted around eight canons this morning, and they had rung out again earlier, to symbolise the end of the initial bloodbath. Now the Career pack could start hunting.

The anthem ends, and Finnick grabs at my hand, squeezes it tight. Comfort and a reminder of where we are. He doesn’t pull his hand away, and I’m thankful for that because the first face we see is Alit. Finnick’s first victim. They come quickly after that, all eight of them. The man from Six, Woof and Cecilia. Both from Nine. Sadle from Ten and then Seeder.

Seeder is the surprise. She should have left the cornucopia as soon as possible, should never have put herself in harm’s way.

It’s not Seeder that hurts though, Cecilia does that, and I am in her house. Her three children, only one old enough to really understand the implications of seeing her mummy’s face in the sky watching with bated breath. It’s hard to swallow and I force myself to become a rock, to not run from the emotions striking me.

Everyone is silent. I do not allow even a single tear. I feel Finnick’s eyes on me. He clutches my hand again, so tight it hurts a little. The pain is good, it keeps me grounded.

I try to focus on who is still alive, Alit was first to be shown so Beetee and Wiress are out here somewhere, Johanna too. That side of things seems to be going off without a hitch. Finnick must be thinking the same, he’s lost in concertation again for the time being.

There’s a sharp note in the air, and the parachute appears directly in front of us. Its descent is slow and it rests a few feet from the opening of the hut.

No-one moves. Peeta is the one who gets it, claims it since he has come closest to dying. He places the parachute aside and I let myself touch it, remember just how much trouble I nearly got in for my little stunt with them previously.

As the sky turns dark and the moon appears we fiddle with the item. It’s a metal tube with little holes and a sharper side, there is no note, no set of instructions. Every possible scenario seems to ring from us, it’s not for hunting, fishing, tracking, not a weapon, not medicinal.

After an age we give up, Katniss says we need Beetee to work it out and jabs it into the ground. If this keeps going well we should be seeing Beetee before too long.

Silence falls, the life in the jungle is a low background melody and tiredness starts to rise again. Peeta and Katniss lay down and I can see he’s nodding off.

Finnick is on high alert still, somehow although he didn’t sleep last night and there’s no way the tablet from this morning is still in effect. He’s moved from the hut, stretched his limbs and done a couple of slow laps when I join in. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep?” He shakes his head, “Finn, you look exhausted, I can keep watch, nothing is happening.”

“I’m fine.” He lies, tries a dazzling smile on me. I make myself immune to it, swallow hard and taste the nuts and meat on the back of my tongue. I am so thirsty. “Can you at least sit then, before you really wear yourself out? We can see fine from just by the hut, we only have to keep an eye in front.” I keep on for a bit, attempt my own version of getting my way by fluttering my eyelashes and finally he agrees.

Before we’re down Katniss has done the opposite, had some epiphany and discovered a name. I don’t recognise the word spile, tell her as much and Finnick is as lost as I.

We crowd a tree, Katniss manages to save the spile from Finnick who is about to bash it into the bark with a rock and instead we use my knives, digging a small hole. The spile has to go into the bark of the tree, it releases the liquid inside.

It takes an age, we have to wiggle it carefully, keep pulling it in and out to make the hole deeper but then one drop falls on my hand. We all stare at it, as if this is magic. Peeta adjusts it again and a stream of water begins to trickle out.

We let Katniss go first, since she is pregnant and all. I follow and the water provides enough for us all to have a bit of a drink. It even goes enough to fill the remaining bowl which holds the water well. I allow myself a little hint of pride at that. We fill the bowl once, all take deep sips, before filling it a second time and splashing our faces. I feel so much better. Everyone looks like they do too.

It’s not enough water, not really when you factor in the day but it is a start and now we know how to get it. Finnick and I work on another tree and I drink my fill. “Better?” Finnick asks, flicking a plait back over shoulder, he returns my grin. When we are all quenched we move onto our last need. The food is sorted, we have a way to get water. Now we need sleep.

When I offer to keep watch I am ignored, Peeta whispers to let the two of them sort it out amongst themselves. Finnick and Katniss still see themselves as the group protectors.

Peeta and I are dead weight.

I sigh when Finnick is given first watch, open my mouth to offer again, to push him to sleep. How long has it been since he had actually slept? Last night he was awake every time I was, before me. He must be running on two days now.

It’s madness to think of how short a time ago the bath was. Our little ocean in porcelain. Finnick’s mouth on mine. I hug him, against all logic really and he does it back but makes it quick.

“Wake me if you need me.” He shoots me a look but I make him promise. Finnick remains just outside the hut, and I position myself close enough to touch.

Peeta and Katniss are asleep within minutes, and when I’m certain they’re both out I sit and shuffle forward a bit. “Elle, go to sleep.”

“I’ll go to sleep when you do.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He sounds too tired to even argue, using the tone of voice I do when Annie or Frey are being difficult. “You must have had such a good night’s sleep to be so refreshed.” I snap, although my voice doesn’t raise upon a whisper.

He turns at that, lifts a brow which says more and makes more of a point that anything else. The urge to kiss him is overwhelming so I slam myself down on the mat and Peeta fidgets. I can feel his body heat ebbing in to me.

When I start falling in on myself, catching myself up in Cecilia’s loss and the look on Alit’s face as the trident punctured his lungs I focus on Peeta’s steady breathing and my eyes grow heavy.

There’s a crash, not just one but several and Finnick catches me before I can get to my feet. “Shh, shush it’s okay.” He manages, his hands on my shoulders keep me sat. There are more and I realise they sound just like the gongs at the opening ceremony. Katniss is awake as well, although she looks much calmer than I feel. Her eyebrows are tightly furrowed. The bongs continue a few more times and then stop. “What was that?” I ask them both and neither have an answer.

“I counted twelve.” Finnick tells me, there has to be some relevance in that number. They weren’t cannon shots, they’re not deaths. “Mean anything, do you think?” Katniss chips in, and we all think hard but come up empty. There is no grand announcement, no nothing. The bongs and then the jungle returns to normal.

“We can work it out in the morning.” I say eventually, letting my hands rub over my eyes. I still feel half asleep, like I am on the edge of a nightmare. Katniss and Finnick swap roles, and Peeta rolls into her empty space, allowing Finnick beside me. It’s the most relaxed I have felt since the Games started, even if he isn’t touching me. Sleep comes much more easily this time, the bells are just a background thought and cannot break through the exhaustion.

I’m in a dream, an odd one, even for me. It’s so blue, the ocean, too blue and the boat I’m on has no sails. Finnick is sat behind the wheel and he ignores me when I speak to him, gazing out at the horizon instead. In the dream this doesn’t bother me, I turn back to the ocean, strip off my dress and ready myself to dive in. It’s so calm and still, a shoal of fish, just like ones that seems so familiar dart past and I lean over to reach out to them.

A fish screams. Screams for us to run, to move.

Finnick stands from his spot, grabs me and as I turn to him I am back in the jungle. “It’s poison gas. Hurry. Peeta!” Katniss is the one screaming.

Finnick shoves me out of the hut and I see what she does, it’s fog, creeping towards us, thicker than the mist in the harbour, determined to reach us. “Elle, go!” Finnick yells, dragging Peeta to his feet, “Elle, go, go now!”