13 | refuge
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REFUGE
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。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚
KATNISS IS THE one who volunteers to hunt for both food and water. Finnick, exhausted from carrying Mags, does not object when she offers to leave. Peeta is more hesitant to let her go. He volunteers to tag along, but she quickly and gently declines because of the thunk his leg would cause.
By now, Ontari is so thirsty that she's certain she'll go unconscious if they don't find water soon. Most of her body's retained water is quickly being drained from how profusely she's sweating. The humid air, thick with moisture, is like a devilish taunt.
Although she has an alliance now, Katniss still seems to be a lone wolf. This much is evident in how she scampers away, picking across the rainforest overgrowth and soil, before Ontari can offer to accompany her. The older victor stifles down her huff of frustration. How is she supposed to make that girl trust her when she doesn't even give her a chance?
"Make yourself useful, will you?" Finnick jeers teasingly, poking her in the leg with the sharp end of a blade of grass. It's a piece he'd uprooted from the five-foot-tall tufts around them. He and Mags are already making use of their surroundings by weaving the blades into mats, which will be more comfortable to sleep on than the uneven and damp soil. It's sticking to her nylon shoes like another layer of skin. She shivers at the thought of what would happen if she slept on it and what it would do to her actual skin.
Ontari sits cross-legged across from Finnick and closely observes how his deft and nimble fingers work to thread the two pieces of grass together, moving so gracefully it almost seems like a dance. Under, over, under, over, again and again until he reaches the end. A simple knot. Another layer is done.
She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and grabs a handful of the long grass blades. With some silent pointers from Mags and occasional tips from Finnick, she manages to complete another mat in around twenty minutes. It's nowhere near as perfect as the District Four members', but it'll serve its purpose.
Finnick works on combining all of the mats. Mags mouths lyrics to a nameless song as she entwines even more blades to create walls, which she eventually connects to the blond boy's finished floor.
As this is occurring, Peeta bounces an armful of nuts off of the force field to roast them. Ontari feels extremely useless in this situation until Mags elbows her. Turning toward the elderly woman, she watches as her wrinkled hands work quickly to weave a round-shaped basin. Ontari slowly sinks to her knees beside Mags so she can observe more closely. Within mere minutes, she has constructed a tightly-woven bowl. The white-haired woman gives her a closed-lipped smile and motions toward the grass that hasn't been used.
"I think that's beyond my skill level, Mags," Ontari admits sheepishly and yet sincerely. The most domestic skill she knows is sewing— District Four offers many projects beyond fishing, but there is only so much for a woman to do with Eight's industry of textiles.
"Don't listen to her," Finnick comments, still focused on crafting his hut for their camp. The humidity has brought out the curls in his blond hair, which is still half-plastered to his face with sweat and half sticking up like feathers in a pillow. "She's a quick learner. Remember how fast she picked up that fish hook?"
Ontari refuses to remind him that he'd been the one teaching her out to craft the fish hook during the first day of training, and that she'd barely been able to focus because of his close proximity. Instead, she plops on the ground and reaches for the grass. "How did you start that, again?"
By the time Katniss returns, they have crafted a complete hut to sleep in — three walls and a ceiling so they can easily escape — and bowls to keep food and water in. Peeta has dumped the freshly-roasted nuts in one of the containers. Ontari stares at the empty water bowl with dismay. Her tongue feels like a dead, dry weight in her mouth, so parched she feels weak in the knees if she tries to stand too quickly or for too long.
But the expression on Katniss' slick face says it all. "No water. It's out there, though. He knew where it was." She holds up a skinned rodent, making Ontari's lip curl a bit in disgust. "He'd been drinking it recently when I shot him out of a tree, but I couldn't find his source. I swear, I covered every inch within a thirty-yard radius."
"Can we eat him?" Peeta questions.
"I don't know for sure," she replies, examining the meat. "It doesn't look that different from a squirrel. He ought to be cooked..."
Wordlessly, Peeta grabs the meat from Katniss and, before she can protest, hurls it at the force field. It ricochets off and flies back in the direction it came from. He skewers it mid-air with a pointed stick, using brute strength that causes Ontari to raise her eyebrows.
"Nice, Baker Boy," she compliments as Mags and Finnick give him a round of applause. Peeta's ears burn, but she can't tell if it's because of her comment or the nickname.
Katniss eyes her wearily. Ontari surmises that directing any comments toward Peeta that sound even remotely teasing is going to make their already low trust level drop. It makes her blood boil— what, just because of her reputation, Katniss thinks she's actually going to try to seduce a seventeen-year-old boy during the Hunger Games? A stab of hurt goes through her, but just as quickly, Ontari sobers up. She may not have to prove herself to anyone, but she does have to gain Katniss' confidence.
The sun starts to set as they gather in the hut to eat. The walls offer enough insulation that the meat stays warmer for a slightly longer period of time. It's nothing like she's ever tasted before — slightly strong, but surprisingly juicy — and the nuts offer a sweet alternative to the gamey taste of the tree rodent.
Halfway through their first meal of the Games, Finnick elbows Ontari. "Watch this."
She obeys and watches him toss a nut up in the air before catching it in his open mouth. After succeeding, he raises his arms in a cocky manner and lifts one eyebrow in silent challenge. Ontari lets an amused huff out of her nose. She grabs another one from the bowl and scoots as far back as the small hut can offer, then raises it parallel to her head so he understands what she means. Finnick opens his mouth and lets his eyes follow the object as she tosses it in the air so perfectly he hardly has to move his head in order to catch it. They both cheer, Ontari discovering that she's almost smiling.
It vanishes as quickly as it had come. She's instantly plagued with guilt that spills into her spirits like ink on freshly white paper. Her younger brother is still nowhere to be found. Beetee, Wiress, Johanna, and Blithe are also missing. They could be facing mortal peril and she has the audacity to be laughing?
This is how Ontari's brain works. She rarely feels real joy or even allows herself to show it. As far as she's concerned, she shouldn't be happy when others are much less fortunate than her. Happiness is not something that comes easily to her.
Mags' gnarled hand slips into hers. A sense of comfort rises in her, but it's not enough for her to send a genuine smile the elderly woman's way. Ontari has to force a small one out instead. Even that feels like a punch to the gut.
Katniss' stare is evident even though she's furtively trying to pretend she isn't watching out of the corner of her eye. Her face is blank and unreadable. Cassian, a master of body language and facial expressions, would be better at detecting whatever true thoughts she unconsciously let slip through her carefully guarded mask.
The moon rises. In a matter of moments, the anthem starts to blare across the arena, and Ontari's heart climbs into her throat for what she's about to see. The five alliance members line themselves up at the mouth of the hut to watch the faces of the deceased appear in the sky.
Ontari feels a jolt of surprise upon seeing the nameless man from Five appear first, meaning everyone from districts One through Four is alive. Next is the male morphling from Six. Ontari holds her breath, her eyes staying glued to the sky even though she desperately wants to look away at the same time.
The next face is the female tribute from Nine.
All at once, Ontari crumbles with relief so intense that it collapses on her like the weight of the world has fallen onto her shoulders. She finds tears streaming from her eyes almost uncontrollably. As her body racks with thankful sobs, she sends her gratitude to whatever force is above for keeping her friends and baby brother alive for at least another day.
Her brain had been repressing the fear that should've been eating her alive all day. It had forced her to focus on keeping the others safe instead of worrying about those who were missing. And now, it's allowing her to splinter for just a moment.
Katniss and Peeta are too stunned to do anything except pretend that they don't notice that she's sobbing her eyes out. Finnick places his hands on her shoulders and presses his cheek to her head as he keeps his eyes on the stars, a simple touch that means more to her than he could possibly know.
"Th—they made it," Ontari says shakily once the arena goes silent again.
"Hell yeah, they did." Finnick plants a peck on her temple. "I knew they would."
The slight tremor in his voice tells her that he'd been worrying all day as well.
"Who else?" she questions, already beginning to sober up. She's used to random crying spells and then having to clean herself up moments afterward— in a matter of minutes, she'll be completely composed again with no sign of a previous breakdown.
"Everyone from Nine and Ten, along with Seeder from Eleven," Peeta replies somberly. Seeder had been one of Haymitch's best friends; they must be taking the loss heavily because of it.
Ontari feels a sudden wave of anger crash into her, washing the relieved tears away. All of those victors— gone. All of those people who'd had the right not to experience this again when they'd won their Games... or so they'd thought.
She can see herself snapping Snow's neck now. She wants to feel his blood on her hands in recompense for every life he's taken by the continuity of the Hunger Games, for forcing her and Finnick and many other tributes before them to perform sexual acts or have their families taken from them, for dangling the things they hold dear over their heads to get them to comply, for letting his Capitol prosper while people in Eight through Twelve are starving.
Ontari is only snapped out of her murderous fantasy by the sound of the parachute. It's a sound she hasn't heard in seven years but would recognize anywhere— the musical chime that signals its descent sounding like a bomb in the complete silence of the rainforest. She doesn't move, watching it land in front of the hut.
No one reaches to grab it.
"What do you think it is?" Katniss asks after a long beat of silence. Even her voice is still quiet, like she's afraid that if she speaks too loudly, their gift will vanish.
"No telling," Finnick responds, sliding his hands from Ontari's shoulders. "Why don't we let Peeta claim it, since he died today?"
Peeta opens the small container and reveals a small metal object that Ontari has never seen before. It's too small to be a weapon, too thin to fish with, too hollow to make a sound out of. It has one circular end and one tapered one.
Katniss spends several moments examining it in the moonlight, letting the pale light glint off of it as she turns it this way and that, sometimes covering portions as to make more sense of it. Eventually, she frustratedly jams one end into the soft dirt.
"I give up," she growls. "Maybe if we find Wiress or Beetee they can figure it out."
Ontari refrains from mentioning that Cassian would probably call them all idiots and rattle off the name the instant he saw it.
Katniss stretches herself out like a cat, resting her cheek on the grass mat and glaring at the metal instrument in contempt. Peeta begins to rub a tense spot in her back. She relaxes under his touch, making Ontari's eye glimmer in curiosity.
Then Katniss suddenly bolts upright. "A spile!"
"What?" Ontari asks.
The younger girl doesn't respond and instead wrenches the device from the ground, brushing it clean. It takes her a moment to report, "It's a spile. Sort of like a faucet. You put it in a tree and sap comes out." She examines the greenery surrounding them. "Well, the right kind of tree."
"Sap?" Finnick repeats with a raised eyebrow. They don't have that kind of trees in Four, so he's probably never seen sap in his life.
"To make syrup," Peeta explains, though he still sounds confused as to why they'd be sent such an instrument. "There must be something else inside these trees."
Ontari almost hits her head on the ceiling of the hut, she jumps up so quickly. "Water."
Immediately, Finnick grabs the spile from Katniss and goes to start hammering it into a tree with a large rock, but she stops him because he could damage it. Mags offers her awl to drill a hole. Peeta drives the spike two inches deep, using a few spare knives they'd collected to widen the hole until it can hold the spile. Katniss wedges it in and steps back, waiting with all of them in almost breathless anticipation.
At first, nothing happens. Then, almost in slow motion, a single drop rolls out and lands on Mags' palm.
Ontari immediately reaches forward and wiggles the spile so it goes further into the tree's bark. A steady stream trickles out, her mouth going even drier at the sight of something so close and yet so far away. They unanimously decide to let Mags drink first. After Peeta and Katniss, Finnick doesn't allow himself to drink until Ontari does. She would normally fight with him on this, but she doesn't have the energy or patience when the water is dribbling onto the forest floor instead of her mouth.
She ducks her head under the spile, catching the slightly warm water on her tongue. Such a necessity has never tasted so good. She only lets herself have a single swallow before stepping back so Finnick can drink. He does, and then Mags carries over one of the bowls so they can collect more water. Using the basins they'd made, they drink large gulps and even splash their faces.
Finnick offers to take the first watch, naturally. Ontari almost nestles herself into a spare corner of the hut until she remembers that she doesn't have to distance herself anymore. She may be greedy for his touch, but she doesn't care as she nestles herself against the blond boy of her dreams, sword gripped in hand in case of a threat.
Even with her head leaning against Finnick's chest, she can't find enough comfort to drift off into sleep. Her mind races with the possibilities of tomorrow. What if she never sees her brother again? What if covering him with the blanket last night had been the last moment between them? What if an enemy kills her allies before she can wake up and stop them?
Sensing her nerves through the tension in her body, Finnick places a gentle hand on Ontari's arm. "Sleep," he whispers softly. "I'll still be here when you wake up. I promise."
Not for the first time, Ontari is immensely grateful for their ability to read each other's emotions so easily. The simple statement is able to ease her anxious mind enough for sleep to become a goal that can be accomplished instead of a faraway dream. So, as her body's exhaustion catches up to her and she feels her eyelids begin to droop, she doesn't stop herself from mumbling, "I love you."
Finnick's hand softly runs up and down her arm. "I love you, too."
The serenity of the rainforest and his gentle stroking eases her mind just enough to lull her to sleep.
Her mind teases her with peacefulness for a few hours before slamming the usual nightmares into her consciousness. She dreams of Cassian being stabbed through the gut by Brutus, choking on his own blood before being tossed aside like a useless rag doll. Johanna being held under the water for a minute too long and sinking to the bottom. Beetee's legs being blown off by a landmine. And, lastly, nearly worst of all, having to mercy kill Finnick instead of allowing him to endure a slow, painful death. His blood-splattered lips pale and chapped as he begs her to kill him. It's you, Ontari. It has to be you.
She shoots awake and meets the sea-green eyes of Finnick mere inches away from her own. The sight almost causes her to let out a bloodcurling scream, but he slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle it. It takes her brain a moment to register the feeling of his skin in her mind. Warm, not cold. He's blinking, moving, breathing. Alive.
Breath rattling as she exhales, she tucks a lock of golden hair behind his ear and lets her hand linger there. Her heart's pace slowly reduces from a rapid-fire thump in her chest to a normal pulse.
She feels guilty for having woken him up, because it's obvious that he'd gotten too tired and that Katniss is currently keeping watch. His lower eyelids are rimmed with exhaustion and bags from lack of proper rest.
"The arena amplifies them," she whispers almost inaudibly, feeling the need to explain herself. "I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize to me," Finnick replies as he searches her eyes for answers as to what her nightmare was about. Finding nothing but absolute pain, he tugs her closer to him so her head is on his chest, ear pressed to his heartbeat.
Though she isn't sure she'll be able to find slumber again, Ontari gets herself as comfortable as possible and listens to the steady beating of his heart. Eventually, his breathing evens out. She can feel Katniss studying them; her gaze is like a pinprick in the back of her mind.
What is the Girl on Fire thinking?
She decides she doesn't have the strength to care. Here, now, she's going to get as much rest as she can muster.
Until the fog comes.
_______
guess the golden alliance didn't catch the drift of no nut novmeber..ha ha....ha....
ahem.
sorry for the minor wait, but this chapter is pretty slow and doesn't have much besides bonding time and character development before shit hits the fan. i hope you enjoyed it nevertheless! please comment telling me your thoughts so i know what to improve on and know what stuff you guys like (:
ps: i made this manip and yeah it sucks but they'd be sUCH A POWER COUPLE I'M EMO
-kristyn
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