CHAPTER TWELVE
FIRST KILL

two years prior, the arena

Arella lets Malcolm sleep through the evening, the boy somehow able to rest even with the sound of the anthem blaring around them. She had moved away from him, choosing to sit on the windowsill and watch the snow fall outside, fascinated by the weather event she'd never actually seen before. It's beautiful, she wishes she could observe it a little closer but it's much too dangerous for that.

Across the room, Malcolm's eyes flutter open slowly and he searches the room frantically. There is fear within him when he doesn't see Arella sitting where she had been before he fell asleep, that nagging feeling that she may have gone back on her word and abandoned him. It's not until he looks at little further that he spots her, her light shivering visible as the morning light gently grazes her face. She'd let him sleep all night.

"You should've woken me up," Malcolm says quietly, walking over to her with his blanket wrapped around himself tightly. He doesn't even startle her, the girl too enthralled by what is happening outside. "You're going to be tired,"

Arella smiles softly and looks over to him finally. "I'll be okay. You needed the rest more than I did,"

Malcolm joins her on the windowsill, sitting on the other side just like they had back at the tribute building a few days ago. Arella can see the effect the Games have already had on his youthful face, frown lines etched into his forehead and heavy bags underneath his eyes. She can only imagine how bad she looks, worn out most likely.

"Nobody has been here?" Malcolm asks, a slight shake in his voice.

"No, not a person in sight," Arella assures him, leaning her chin against her folded arms. "The snow was probably too heavy for anybody to go anywhere during the night,"

"But it's starting to ease a bit," Malcolm points out, the idea of somebody emerging from the trees playing out in his mind. Its terrifying. "And you're not going to be fully alert,"

"I'll be fine, Mal, I promise. We probably need to start looking for some supplies though, water, food — all of that,"

It's unlikely they'll find much of a water source out and about, the cold weather likely causing it to become ice. However, Arella knows the Capitol wouldn't want them to all die of dehydration, it would ruin their show. So there must be some around them in the Arena, whether it's an open water source or bottled water. There was likely some back at the Cornucopia, going back there would be a death sentence though — the Careers will likely camp nearby, they may have even slept inside of it to shelter from the snow.

"Are you warm enough?" Arella asks the younger boy who is blatantly shivering across from her. This is nothing like the weather back home, meaning that neither of them have acclimatized to it just yet.

Malcolm looks at her incredulously, wondering why she would even think to ask something like that. Seeing the look, she smiles softly and slips off her blanket before handing it to him. He looks to protest before he sees the raise of her eyebrows, the expression reminding him of his mother when he tries to argue with her. There are many qualities that Arella possesses that reminds him of his mother, it's comforting in a way, like she's here with him.

"We should go out soon, right? The quicker we go hunting for some stuff the better," Malcolm comments, fear causing his heart rate to rise.

"You could stay here if you —"

Arella doesn't even get to finish her sentence, Malcolm shaking his head quickly. The last thing he wants is to be alone, to be on his own when a threat makes itself known. He's not sure whether Arella is any good with a weapon, if she'd even be able to defend the both of them, but he trusts that she'll at least try — he will have a chance.

"Okay, grab the backpack and we'll head out," Arella says, pulling her knife from her pocket with her shaky hand. Malcolm grabs the backpack and rejoins her side, the two of them heading outside rather hesitantly. It's a scary world outside these four walls.

Arella walks ahead, ever so slightly, allowing his hand to just graze over her arm every now and again. Her grip on the knife tightens with every sound of nature, the slightest of coos from a bird causing her heart rate to accelerate astronomically. She knows that any other tribute will likely be a lot louder — especially if it's a Career tribute, they will have no problem announcing their presence. It also won't be a very fair fight, Arella will be in it on her own due to Malcolm's lack of weapon.

"Do you think we'll be able to find anything out here?" Malcolm questions quietly, so much so that Arella almost doesn't hear him.

Giving him a quick glance over her shoulder, she smiles assuringly. "There's no way they'd leave us all to starve out here,"

And it's a fair point. What entertainment will those vultures in the Capitol get if everybody dies from hunger? There'd be uproar amongst the residents for sure. Malcom seems satisfied with her answer, simply nodding in response to her.

They walk for what feels like forever, boots sinking in the layers of fallen snow. It's so cold that she can feel it nipping at her toes even with the thick socks and winter boots. Arella's face almost seems frozen, her nose almost at the point of hurting due to the extreme temperature.

It's Malcolm who notices that something is wrong, his entire body coming to a halt. Arella turns to look at him, brows furrowed together in confusion. "Malcolm? What's wrong?"

"Can't you smell that?" He asks.

It's then that the smell floods her nostrils, the unmistakable musk of smoke. Somebody had managed to start a fire amongst the blizzard like conditions, and they haven't done the best of jobs in hiding it.

The leaves to the their right rustle and Arella is practically throwing herself in front of Malcolm before either of them realize it's happening. A girl stumbles out, blood seeping from a gash on her cheek and with burns etched into the skin of her arms. She looks dead on her feet, exhausted and close to passing out. Without thinking, Arella lunges at her and knocks her to the ground.

Malcolm hides behind one of the large trees as Arella restrains the girl, the blonde fighting against the taller girl's grip. Managing to pin her wrists down with her knees, Arella swallows deeply and hesitantly raises the knife above her head.

"I'm sorry," Arella breathes, forcing the knife down harshly and allowing it to pierce the chest of the girl.

She screeches, blood filling her mouth as she desperately tries to breathe. It's much too late, Arella is sure that she knows that, but she fights anyway. The brunette rolls away, rushing over to where Malcolm had hidden himself away and gently grabs his shoulders.

"You okay?" Arella asks, trying to ignore the fact that there's blood on her hands — both literally and figuratively.

"Y-yeah," Malcolm stutters out.

"We need to keep moving,"

Malcom nods, his breaths shaky. Arella hears the canon sound and knows that the poor girl is gone now. She walks over and pulls the knife out, not sparing her another glance before she starts walking again.

This is just how it has to be, Arella. You did the right thing.

And yet, she's not so sure she did.

Brand new cover made by @/fireandbloods

(sign off by fireandbloods)