▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

chapter one
CURIOUS OMENS

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

Her brows are pinched into a deep frown for various reasons during this sweltering afternoon. Even with a cool ocean breeze, the sun beats down mercilessly, casting blinding reflections in the ripples. Each time a wave bows, a glare flashes in her narrowed gaze. It makes it hard to focus. That leads to the additional cause of Cove's scowl.

"Ugh, it's caught pretty good," Marin grunts, yanking at the cables impatiently. The metal screeches and grinds along the edge of the small Trawler as she continues to shake them in hopes of freeing their latest catch futilely. There's a hiss between her teeth while she slams her palm against the ledge with frustration. "Damn, really good!"

The boat rocks rhythmically in the water, like a baby in a cradle, the bay their handler. Snoring choruses with their frustration, and the two girls glare back toward their sleeping Captain. He leans back behind the wheel, his mouth gaping open and drool dripping at the corner. His hand still clutches the ignition, the engine's hum gone silent.

"You hear that Sully?" Marin shouts. "We're caught!"

Snoring continues without a pause.

She sneers now, nodding. She quickly unties the anchor, heaving it into the water with a loud Splash! Still nothing. "Oh yeah, don't worry, we got it!" Marin returns to her futile attempts, putting her heel to the wall of the boat and pushing. It's to no avail. "You wanna try?"

Cove is already zipping up her wetsuit again, blonde hair still soaked from her last dive. She shakes her head. "No, you're going to break them."

"I am not going to break them, these things are like stee—"

There's an echoing SNAP that vibrates against the Trawler and up the rusting cables. The water ripples in a new pattern against the docile waves. From the sudden slack, Marin's straining momentum sends her reeling onto her butt against the hard deck with an "Oomph!" Cove's wide gaze peers over the edge and down into the cerulean blue. She feels her Spotter scramble to her side, peering where their latest catch just sank back down.

"Shit."

Silence ensues for a few moments, both girls seemingly staring in exasperation at not just their haul of oysters lost, but also at their lost dredging equipment. No dredge means no oysters, no oysters means no pay, no pay means probably no dinner. On cue, Cove feels her stomach growl, already sensing the weight of their loss.

"We could totally blame it on Sully," Marin finally speaks up, glancing over at their unbothered Captain. "It is his job to check the equipment and put in orders for replacements. That shit's been rusty for like, years! Yeah. Totally his fault."

Cove has already worked her way to the diving platform by the time Marin notices her absence. Water laps invitingly at her feet as she stands and takes a couple more breaths. Her muscles flex in anticipation, and she adjusts her goggles over her eyes.

"Plus with Rusty out we're down a man. He didn't replace him eithe— What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to dive."

Footsteps pound across the boat. "What? You can't dive here! That's like, almost forty feet!"

Cove glances to the Fathometer's gauge. "Thirty four."

"Same thing." Marin throws her hands up into the air as her eyes widen. "You've never dove over thirty!"

The blonde is almost offended, and she scrunches up her nose. "That's not true, I've made it to forty."

"Well that wasn't under my watch. Sorry your old Spotter didn't care if you drowned, but a lost haul is a lot haul. Let's just leave it."

Cove peers out into the horizon toward the South. She's met with nothing but more of that rippling glare from the beating sun. Most of the time, other boats are well spread to avoid crossing routes. However, there can be an occasional intruder looking to take another fisherman's lucky spots in the bay. Her tongue clicks to the roof of her mouth loudly. "Wonder if Calder and Irving ever lose any hauls."

That earns her a glare, and Marin's cheeks flush. One could argue it's the case of an instantaneous sunburn. "Who— who cares about those two stupid... dumbass Dungbies?" She stammers unconvincingly, voice cracking in her throat.

"You do," Cove chirps. She peers over her shoulder pointedly. "Whoever gets the best haul of the week always gets a Bonus. I don't know about you, but a Bonus would be really nice. And so would the look on their faces when we dethrone them from last week's cheat."

Another pause. Marin's lips form a tight line as she studies Cove begrudgingly, the hardness in her gaze eventually surrendering. She huffs, folding her arms across her chest. "How are you gonna carry up a dredge full of oysters forty feet back up to the surface?"

"Thirty-four."

"Fine, thirty-four. How are you going to bring those up? They'll sink you."

Her honey gaze shifts past Marin's shoulder. They lighten at an idea. A risky one, but an idea nonetheless. "Pass me that, will you?" she asks, gesturing behind her Spotter.

The brown haired girl frowns and follows her stare. She snatches the bundle of nylon rope, raising it in the air quizzically. "This? What are you going to do with this?"

"A Palomar knot should fit in the warp, right?"

"Why do you always answer my questions with a question?" Marin slaps her arms down at her sides loudly, peering at the warp before facing the Diver again. "Yes. It should. See? That's how you answer people." A shake of her head. "You're gonna what? Tie the rope to the cable and then to the dredge?"

"It's easier than resetting the warp." Cove glances to the snoring Captain again, and she can't help but roll her eyes. "Especially if Sully's no help."

"Will you be able to hold your breath for that long?" Cove gives her a sarcastic look at her silly question, gently but firmly taking the coiled nylon rope from the girl. She slings it over her shoulder and turns back to the water. "What am I supposed to do while you're down there?"

"What you always do? Spot me."

Her muscles poise themselves again, and Cove prepares her lungs for the dive. It's not the deepest she's dove, but it definitely isn't one of her easier ones. She inhales carefully. Marin sputters behind her along the deck.

"You drown and I'll kill you!"

There's a loud Splash, which is quickly replaced by the whirring of saltwater bending around Cove's body. No more cries from Marin, snoring from Sully, or gentle rocking from the boat above. Just a quiet that feels full in her ears. She propels downward with great speed and strength, gravity and her seasoned muscles offering her an advantage. Her body begins to slow at almost eleven feet.

Below the surface is an eerie pale blue that darkens like a sapphire the further she goes. It's a haze that draws comfort to the young diver. One that she's grown accustomed to, associated with routine, safety, and freedom all at once. A place where the rest of the loud world has no choice but to be quiet. Cove falls into this realm with peaceful ease every single time.

She's passed where the broken cables hang from the trawler purposefully. Her first priority is to find the dredger on the ocean floor, which hopefully is still full with oysters. The diver's kicking her legs now, adding some crisp and disciplined strokes of her biceps while still balancing the bound rope around her shoulder. A few smaller fish zip away as she nears the bottom.

Blonde hair floats into her vision as she twirls her body carefully so that her feet might find the rock and sand. She peers at the ocean floor meticulously for a sign of their lost haul. When she glances up, she sees the bottom of the trawler above her bobbing softly, the cables hanging limply like seaweed. Cove follows where they seem to point.

Sand and silt kicks up lightly as she maneuvers along the ocean floor. Her eyes remain carefully trained below for any sort of sign. More silver fish rush away from her and past a four foot, jagged rock growing from the ground like the ocean's own mountain. Her eyes widen with realization, and she picks up her pace, following the glimmer of their rapidly moving fins.

Cove propels herself forward, floating over the pointed rock and casting her gaze downward. Sure enough, she spots a new glimmer, duller yet larger. A treasure of her own.

Noting the awkward, jagged, and asymmetrical shape of the rock, it's not hard to figure out how their dredge got stuck. With one of its unique edges casting outward like a mast, one of the corners of their equipment is caught underneath, right where the cables were trying to pull their catch up. Man-made cages stand no chance breaking free against nature's creations. 

There's plenty of oysters in their dredge. Cove suppresses a grin at the idea of not only earning the Bonus, but also being the one to get the Bonus instead of Calder and Irving. She gets to work with tying the Palomar knot quickly at the top of the tow frame. Cove can breathe underwater for up to eight minutes, but the last two are never comfortable. Her lungs become impatient with each ticking second. Surely Marin is pacing above, maybe already calling the Guard and planning to dive after Cove even though she can't make it past twenty feet herself.

It has to be the tightest knot she's ever tied as she grinds her teeth together, giving it a firm test pull. Nylon rope is strong enough to lift the oysters, but the real concern is if her knot tying will be enough. Another test pull, just in case. Bubbles float past her vision from the motion.

Good enough.

Cove feels herself getting close to her body's uncomfortable two minute warning. Her eyes fall down to that jagged corner that holds their catch hostage again. She won't be able to free it herself. There's no breaking or moving that rock, and as much as she'd like to say she could, she probably can't pull the dredge away on her own more than a centimeter. It would be a waste of oxygen she needs to get back to the surface.

There might be another way.

Her lungs begin to slowly burn with discomfort, telling her enough is enough, so Cove pushes off the top of the rock. She propels toward the surface, the rest of the rope still in her grasp. It falls down behind her foot by foot, still latched to the top of the dredge. Sunlight shines through the sapphire waters, brightening each ripple like the facet of a precious gem. They grow lighter the closer she gets to the surface. Her lungs squeeze with each stroke, urging her to move faster.

A splash and sharp inhale of breath burst through the underwater silence, signifying she's broken through the plane of the two realms. Cove's fingers latch onto the diving platform, and she hoists her elbows to rest most of her bodyweight along the surface. Water sloshes gently as she feels her chest heave for air. She pulls her goggles away from her eyes.

"Did you get it?" Marin sits on the edge of the boat above the diving platform, nerves crackling in her voice. Some of her curls have fallen out from her bun, fingers dropping to her side after tugging at them.

Cove nods, still trying to even out her breath. "Some of it. I tied a knot to the top of the frame. I still need to go back down to tie the rope to the cables hanging from the warp."

Marin's shoulders slump at that, and she gnaws on her bottom lip. Whatever she has to say about that, she keeps to herself. "Did you see what the dredge got caught on?"

"There's a jagged rock down there. Got just enough of the corner, and I can't pull the dredge out from under it on my own." Her brows quirk as her gaze shifts back toward the steering wheel of the small trawler. "Is Sully still useless?"

"Like a dead fish. Probably still hungover. It's a miracle he got us out here in the first place."

"Then we won't be able to switch out the warp. With just us it'll take too long and there's a good chance it'll get messed up without enough hands."

Marin's feet hang over the edge, kicking lightly in the air as she shrugs. "We could at least try. You were down there a long time."

Cove shakes her head dismissively. "I only need to go a couple feet this time for the cables." She juts her chin toward the steering wheel again. "When I come back up, we'll need to turn this thing around, or at least pull into another direction to get out from under that rock. That should free our haul and we can—"

Something smooth grazes her toes, making her pause for a moment. It's gone as quickly as it came, and Marin's brows knit into a quizzical and nervous frown. Cove waits, then shakes her head and licks her lips. Just another one of those small fish swimming by.

Clearing her throat uneasily, she continues. "We'll be able to pull it up once we turn this boat in another direction. Either we'll wake Sully up or steer ourselves, but we should be getting that Bonus as long as we turn into the Marina in time."

"Why'd you do that?" Marin demands, seemingly ignoring everything she just said.

"Do what?"

That earns her an eyeroll. "That weird pause. You looked surprised."

Cove scowls defensively now. "I was just thinking."

"Bullshit. Is there something in the water?"

"There's always something in the water, it's the ocean." Cove pulls her goggles back over her eyes again, adjusting the rope with a huff. "Stop asking me questions, I'm trying to get my breath ready again."

Marin narrows her eyes into slits. She deepens her tone mockingly, movements imitating her partner. "Stop asking me questions, I'm trying to get my breath ready again." She clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth loudly as she shifts her voice back to its natural tone. "Holding your breath won't save you if a shark comes chomping on your leg."

"Good thing I've got you for a Spotter." Sucking in a breath, the blonde prepares to submerge herself once more. "Let me know if one's coming!"

With that, Cove pushes off the edge of the boat, rolling backwards into the water. Kicking her legs, she dives back below toward the hanging cables. That silence soothes her nerves and attempts to wash away her mild annoyance. Marin's always questioning, always challenging. She sometimes wishes her partner could just shut up and let her do what she needs to do.

A rational part of her understands it's just genuine concern. Cove's never lost a partner on the job, but she's heard the stories of horrific and freak accidents. Drownings, limbs being lost or crushed between equipment, mates bleeding out on the deck, and rarely, shark attacks that usually lead to traumatic amputation or death. It's always brutal and shocking, losing someone you've worked next to. It doesn't matter if it's been only a day or ten years. Those left behind are permitted a singular morning off from work to attend the funeral. Then the world just goes on again like nothing happened. The lost member is replaced on the crew, their partner gets a new one to become used to, and the quotas are still tirelessly worked to be filled. Just like that, the lost soul is merely that, lost and forced to be forgotten.

Finally, the diver makes it to the cables, dangling just where they were before. The rope is eighty feet long, and with the way she tied the knot for the dredge somewhere in the middle, she has two halves to work with. Making sure they're taut, she ties one half similarly onto the cable as tight as she can. An extra pull for good measure. She moves to the other end to tie the final knot.

It's when she's halfway done the last Palomar knot that she notices it. Only ten feet away, looming and watching in the water quietly. Both of its eyes are set on Cove. She feels her nerves coil tightly in her gut as she freezes, simply blinking back dumbly.

The shark doesn't move or flinch, only its tail lazily moving back and forth as it hovers in the water. She feels her heart beating rapidly against her chest bone while she waits. She's not sure what else to do. Just wait and observe.

The longer she does she realizes what kind of shark it is. With its slim, narrow body and pointed nose, it's certainly no Great White. That's a relief. The top of its body is a distinct blue, similar to the ocean, that fades to white at its belly. It's about ten feet long.

A Blue Shark. Nicknamed "wolves of the sea." Despite this title, they're often more curious than aggressive. At least, that's what her father would always say about the creatures.

When Cove's lungs start to burn, she realizes her hands are shaking, still looming near her handiwork. This staring contest isn't going to get her anywhere. Averting her gaze momentarily, she attempts to act natural, resuming her work. She still watches the blue shark's figure out of the corner of her eye as her hands tremble.

Don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out.

Does Marin see it? Is she screaming "SHARK!" up above? Cove doesn't hear anything right now. Just that peaceful silence growing painful and heavy like sand in an hourglass, the hourglass her skull as she feels each grain sliding down inside. It almost sinks her. Nevertheless, her trembling hands work quickly bordering sloppily.

There's a quick flicker of movement and the whip of a long tail in the corner of her vision, and she feels her stomach somersault. She almost lets go of her breath, and fumbles to keep it tucked safely inside her lungs. Cove grinds her teeth together as she yanks and pulls to ensure the knot is tight enough. Her panicked gaze flickers to the slender blue shadow looming in front of her.

The shark hovers only two feet away from her now, so close she could reach out and pet it. She only holds onto the rope still, frozen in the water. Instead of staring at her head-on, it has its side toward her, exposing it's lean and long ten-foot frame. The varying shades of blue; indigo, cobalt, cerulean, eventually a misty white, shimmer in the rays of sunlight peeking down at the two of them. It merely peers back at Cove with a curious gaze.

It's when she sees the way it looks at her that Cove doesn't feel so afraid anymore.

She doesn't know why she does it, but she does. She peers into the shark's eye carefully, it like a large dark marble shimmering back at her. There's something strange about it. Surreal. Familiar, even? Cove gnaws on the inside of her bottom lip as she offers a short but careful nod to the shark.

She expects it to bite. When the fangs seep downward from its crooked and slim mouth, she waits for a shadow to dart toward her face. But it doesn't.

The shark bends its head downward, ever so slightly, almost bowing to the young diver. The movement causes a strangely light feeling to float through her chest. They hold gazes for a few moments longer.

Just when muffled shouting echoes from above the surface, Marin probably noticing the shadow by now, the shark suddenly turns away from Cove, zig zagging the direction it came. She has to jerk out of the way to avoid its tail whipping her harshly in the face.

Cove takes that as her cue to leave. She lets go of the rope, it bound tightly to the hanging cables. Propelling herself upward, she bursts through the surface quickly, heaving herself onto the diving platform. Marin's shouting is harsh and crisp in her ears as she catches sight of her Spotter wielding a spear with wide eyes.

"What the fuck were you doing?! There was a shark!"

The diver wriggles herself fully onto the platform with heavy breaths. She reaches for the boat's ledge, but grabs Marin's extended hand instead. "I know."

Her Spotter pulls her into the boat, eyes combing over her frame nervously. "Well are you hurt? Did it nip you?"

"No, no, I'm fine." Cove struggles to catch her breath, now dripping a puddle into the boat as she stands. She places her hands on her hips. "It was just curious, I guess."

"It didn't look like a Great White," Marin admits, still inspecting the blonde.

"It was a Blue Shark." Cove yanks her goggles off her face, imprints surrounding her eyes from the pressure. She tosses them off to the side. "They used to be my dad's favorite."

There's a low, gritty groan suddenly breaking into the air. His voice drags along his throat like sand. "Would you two quit all that chatting? What the hell are yous doin?"

Both girls snap their glares toward their hungover Captain, who's straightened from his slouched position. Sully lifts his hat off his head, rubbing a callused and dirty hand through his matted hair. He seems to be blinking away the slumber from his afternoon nap as he scowls at them.

Cove glowers. "Oh, nice of you to join us, Sleeping Beauty."

"Cove almost drowned and got eaten by a shark. But don't worry, we'll try to keep it down!" Marin sneers bitterly.

Sully doesn't even flinch. Instead he stares at the cables hanging over the edge of the boat. "Where's the oysters?"

"Waiting on you to pull them up," Cove explains. "You need to turn the boat that way." She points to her left. "The dredging equipment got stuck on a rock down there."

"You got it stuck?!" Sully almost falls out of his chair, voice raising in anger.

Marin's lips twist into a snarl. "Last time we checked it was you sitting on your ass behind the wheel while we do the dirty work. You got it stuck, dipshit."

"Hey, you keep talking to me like that and you're swimming home and won't step foot on this boat again!"

Before things can get ugly, Cove steps between the two, water still dripping from her frame. Now she's the subject of their burning glares, enough to dry her completely right there. "Anyways, let's pull up the load. We've gotta make it back in time if we want the Bonus."

She gently grips the middle-aged man's shoulder, turning him back toward the wheel and gauges. He begrudgingly removes his glare from a seething Marin. He fumbles to put the keys into the ignition. "Besides. You know with Marin and I, no one else fills up quotas for you faster."

Captain Sully grumbles something incoherent at that, glowering ahead instead. The engine of the trawler warms up again, and Marin and Cove work to haul up the anchor. Within a minute or two, the boat is humming again, ready to move. They check the warp, ensuring it's ready. Marin stands near the edge of the boat to watch the dredge come up as Cove supervises the warp.

The boat shifts in the water, turning South in hopes of freeing their latest catch. It sputters and hums, gradually picking up careful speed and strength in the ocean. The cables strain again as Sully steers the boat away from its resting place. Both Marin and Cove watch them warily, half-expecting them to snap.

There's another hitch in the cable. A tug in the opposite direction. Sully steers further South. Just as the cable and rope grows taut, preparing to hold them in place, something gives. The boat continues to glide smoothly in the water for a couple more yards before it seems like it's safe.

"Did it work?" Cove calls.

Marin's peering over the edge, tugging at the cables carefully. She nods quickly, putting a thumbs-up in the air. "I think it worked!"

Cove's lips turn upward into a proud grin. "Get ready to hoist!"

The two girls work together with the equipment like they're extensions of it. They have a soundless system, grunts, nods and short phrases as communication while they work swiftly and perfectly. It'd go quicker if Rusty were here, but Sully attempts to help as well for a change, the three of them working together for the haul. It feels heavier than usual. Surely worth more than what they're used to.

Within minutes, their catch hangs in the air for them to see. Water glimmers in the sunlight as it drips off the equipment. They pull the load onto the deck to harvest, large puddles forming and making it slippery.

Marin gasps in delight. "That's gotta be at least four bushels worth!"

Cove feels her own eyes widen in awe as she inspects their catch. She nods in agreement. "At least."

"We're totally getting that Bonus now."

"Yep." Captain Sully clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, adjusting the hair under his cap again. He smiles thinly with pride. "I didn't too bad, if I do say so myself."

Cove steps in front of Marin before she can throw the Captain overboard, the drunk stumbling back to the wheel obliviously.

━━━━

Ivory Point is a one of the quainter shore towns of District Four. Small enough to know who the important people are, but large enough that not every single person and their cousin would know your business. With only a population of about four thousand, they're granted a little more privacy than the larger fishing towns and cities that are littered with brutal Peacekeepers. Their presence is known certainly, but the crueler ones tend to be sent out on the bigger ships with larger crews and hauls at stake.

By five o'clock, Cove, Marin and Captain Sully have turned in their haul to Ursula, the overseer of their shore town's Marina. Several Peacekeepers loom around her, inspecting the day's catch as various crews offer up their quotas. Others comb the docked ships for anything mildly suspicious. Almost every evening is uneventful like this one, the people of Ivory Point modest, hardworking, and harmless.

A crowd of tired crewmen and women linger around the Marina, waiting for Ursula to finish weighing each load behind her stand. She jots the numbers down in her worn notebook like she always does, glasses falling down the bridge of her crooked nose. She hums to herself as she traces the rows carefully with her pencil. Ursula lets out a heavy breath, nodding.

Cove straightens when she rings her large brass bell three times, signaling the count for the week is over. Murmurs and chatter grow silent as the crowd draws their attention to the middle-aged woman. She clears her throat and holds up her notebook.

"The crew with the best haul was Captain Sully's!" Marin squeals with delight, pumping her fist into the air with excitement. Ursula slaps her notebook down onto the wood of her table loudly. "Come get your Bonus."

Disappointment from the crowd hums, and the fishermen disperse, some muttering bitterly and others bidding a polite congratulations in their direction. Cove feels her cheek burning from a pair of fiery and jealous glares. Both her and Marin follow the sensation, locking gazes with an irritated Calder and Irving about fifteen feet away. The nineteen year old twins glower at the girls, their pride clearly wounded.

Marin offers an obnoxiously cheesy grin as she waves flamboyantly. Cove is a little more subtle, that golden spark of hers beaming with a faint smirk that creeps across her lips. She bids a nod, following a skipping Marin to Ursula's stand.

"Captain Sully," the woman greets, offering him his extra pay. He doesn't even answer her, just grunts in her direction, before hastily taking it from her grip. He's already stumbling away within a moment, counting under his breath.

Ursula turns to the girls, inhaling sharply with annoyance. "Ladies." She hands them their shares of the Bonus, voice dropping below a whisper. "Excellent job, as always."

They both echo thank-you's, happily but graciously accepting their hard-earned reward. The two turn away from the stand, falling into a comfortable stride with one another as they count their earnings. Where excitement bubbles and oozes from Marin, Cove merely feels content.

It's an accomplishment, sure, to have the best haul of the week out of twelve crews. But it's something any of them could do. Something that's expected. Of course you should get at least four bushels of oysters in one dredge. At least, that's what Cove tells herself to keep from feeling too proud of herself.

"My mom is going to be so excited about this," Marin gushes happily. She beams, stuffing the money into her hand-woven bag. "She said if I get enough we can get one of those chocolate cakes for after The Reaping."

"Don't be so sure you're making it home from The Reaping," a snotty voice objects behind them.

Both girls freeze in their tracks. Whirling around, they spot Calder and Irving trailing a few paces behind them. They're twins, but they're very fraternal. Calder with sandy hair and strangely bright green eyes only stands at a stocky five-foot-eight. Meanwhile, Irving is the taller, lanky one, his dark hair and dark eyes nearly black. They stop about ten feet short of the girls, still glaring enviously. Cove stuffs her money into her back pocket, covering the unease from the mention of The Reaping with annoyance on her features instead.

"Following girls home now, huh?" Marin scoffs. "Bunch of creeps."

"Don't expect to make hauls like that one again, either." This time it's Irving that chirps up, his beady eyes similar to a scavenging seagull. "Not when one of you's are probably going to be Reaped tomorrow. Then what's going to happen to your little duo?"

If Marin's uncomfortable from the mention of such a terrifying thought, she doesn't show it, folding her arms across her chest. "Honestly, we'd still probably kick your ass with one of us haunting you from the grave, right Cove?"

They shift their stares to the left, waiting for a continuing of the snarky and bitter banter. She doesn't give them the satisfaction.

"Trying to scare us isn't going to make you better fishermen, boys," the blonde mentions coolly, her stare even. "Have a good night."

With that, she spins on her heels, stalking quickly down the path toward home. She doesn't wait to hear Marin follow, noting that there's still some bustle amongst the town to ensure witnesses. She really hopes the twins just leave them alone at this point. She's too tired for anything else.

"She's nicer than me," Marin snaps. Her footsteps pound after Cove. "Have a horrible fucking night!"

"We'll sleep like babies!" Calder calls, cupping his hands around his mouth as they put more distance between them. "Our names aren't in those bowls anymore!"

"But yours are!" It's Irving shouting now, their voices getting smaller. They seem to be turning in another direction towards their home, thankfully. "Sweet dreams, sweethearts!"

The two can be heard with their obnoxious laughter in the distance. Once again, it resembles the squawking of gulls swarming and fighting over a crab, desperate for just one leg. That's the perfect way to describe the twins. Desperate and pathetic. Two "grown men" that can't seem to handle the idea of two seventeen-year old girls rising as their biggest competitors in a small fishing town like Ivory Point.

Marin huffs as she finally catches up to Cove, rage radiating from her in heated waves. She shakes her head. "They're such dicks. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them."

"Yeah, they suck," the blonde agrees.

"I mean, have a little class, right? Talking about The Reaping like that? Like it literally isn't the scariest thing in the world. Fucking douchebags."

Cove just nods in agreement, listening carefully for any sign of following footsteps. A man with wounded pride is a dangerous one, not to mention two. Her strides are more hurried than usual, and she can tell Marin is struggling to keep up. She just wants to go home. After such a long day, with such an ominous morning approaching, the sooner she can curl up in her bed the better. No more useless Sully, no more Guthrie twins and their threats, and no more noise. They walk for about five minutes in silence.

When Marin speaks up again, her voice is quieter, more subdued. There's a gentleness to it. "How many times is your name in there anyway?"

Cove shrugs. "Eight. This year was a little better than others." She raises a brow. "You?"

"Seven, I think. With my brothers out of the house we didn't need Tesserae as much either."

They take a right along Shelly Drive, the acrid salty scent from the Marina softening. The quaint and petite cottages are arranged in various pale shades of aquas, teals and sea greens. Other fishermen and women make their way home, whether it be from the Marina or the Warehouses that prepare the fish to be sent to the Capitol.

"Why would they say such awful crap, anyway? It's cruel," Marin mutters, nerves cracking in her tone again.

"Because they are cruel." Cove shakes her head, inhaling sharply. "Try not to let it get to you. They can't predict the future, they're just jealous and sick."

As the words echo off her tongue, Cove realizes it's easier to give advice than take it. The moment she mentions they can't predict the future sends a shudder down her spine that she tries to resist, and she gnaws on the inside of her bottom lip, gaze boring into her feet.

Eight. She's only in eight times. That's so much less than others in District Four. Ivory Point is a small town, but they're not a poor town. Surely there are people with their names in way more  from the inland towns like Dry River and Walsrood.

But eight times to have your name in a lottery of death is still just eight times too many.

Cove doesn't notice that they've reached The Fleming cottage until Marin side-steps from the path, opening up her wooden gate, the white paint peeling everywhere. The girl seems to have regained some of her confidence as she turns toward the blonde with a friendly smile.

"Say— when we get this cake tomorrow, do you want to come after The Reaping to help us eat it?" She raises her brows. "We've got extra plates."

Cove's brain immediately says no, but her lips have a little more tact. She offers a faint smile, shaking her head lightly. "That sounds nice, but I'll probably stay with my Grandpa."

"He can come too," Marin insists, shrugging her shoulders. "I told you we have enough plates. I could finally meet him, and my mom could meet you for more than like, two minutes. She's always wanted to talk to you more than just the 'hi-bye' from the road."

"Maybe another time." Cove takes another stride toward home, hoping to put more distance between the two of them. It's probably closer to five-thirty by now. Her Grandpa should be home any minute. "Thank you for the invite though."

Marin frowns with disappointment, shaking her head in disbelief. "Can you at least think about it? It's just cake. Does your Grandpa not like cake?"

"He likes cake." The blonde bites on her bottom lip, giving the raw flesh inside a break from her nervous gnawing. She locks gazes with her Spotter once more, the urge to keep stacking the bricks of her walls until they reach the sky overwhelming. They're natural at this point. Tiring, but natural.

Natural, but tiring.

Cove sighs, bidding Marin a soft smile. "I'll think about it." Then she turns, hurrying back home without a second glance. "Goodnight."

━━━━

»»————-　♡　————-««

Ahhh, here it is! The very first chapter of Shine Like a Pearl. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

I'm so so excited for this story and my other Hunger Games fics, please check them out if you haven't already. Feel free to comment what you think, I love hearing from you :)

Opinions on Cove? She's my self-isolating sad and tired baddie and I can't wait to write about her character development and why she is the way she is.

Thank you so much again! Please don't ask me to update :) They are slow and sporadic!

Word Count: 6199