━━･❪ 🌸 ❫ ･━━

Azalea was still unconscious when Daphne woke up the next morning. She hadn't gotten a full night of sleep since the night she almost drowned in the canal, and Daphne couldn't keep track of how many days it's been. Two? Three?

The rest of the previous day had been spent mostly hanging around with Rye, talking while waiting for Azalea to awaken. Daphne was secretly grateful for the day of rest, since the lack of sleep and constant exploration of the arena was beginning to wear on her body.

Rye was propped against the window, munching on a handful of strawberries. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead. Strawberry?"

He tossed Daphne a berry, which she barely managed to catch. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, took a swig from her water bottle and bit into the strawberry.

"How do you not sound tired whatsoever?" Daphne asked.

Rye shrugged. "I guess I'm just used to working late nights at the factory. Sometimes, we'd have to stay until the morning to try to meet the Capitol's weekly quota."

"Oh." Daphne's mind, still sluggish from sleep, couldn't think of much else to say to that. She wondered if that's how Rye knew how to make such complex traps; from putting together all sorts of mechanical parts to form functioning transportation devices.

The rest of the fifth day in the arena was rather uneventful. Daphne and Rye mainly stayed in the house, watching over Azalea. Daphne helped Rye reload his trap, replacing the snapped tripwires with new ones. Rye had been sponsored a spool of thin line recently, which he kept under a loose floorboard along with his bottle of poison powder.

Daphne was down to five knives instead of six, one having been lost when she'd unsuccessfully flung one at Cosmo and he'd kicked it away into some bushes. She hadn't bothered going back to look for it.

Still, some part of her kept glancing up and down the path, silently praying for a familiar, lithe boy with forest green eyes to come wandering over. She hadn't seen his face up on any memoriams. Nor had she seen his face anywhere in the arena so far.

The day of inactivity worried Daphne. No cannon shots echoed through the air. If the Gamemakers grew bored, they were sure to throw in some sort of deadly twist sooner or later. Daphne just hoped that it was later, much later.

***

Caelum bit into a plum, its flesh soft and plump with juice. What a way to begin Day Six.

It was a miracle he and Theron had stumbled across a plum tree. Caelum had barely eaten anything in the arena so far, somehow unable to find any fruit-bearing plants. He'd been living off the sponsored crackers that Theron had received a couple days ago.

The fruit eased his stomach, its juices seeming to quench a layer of dryness that had lined his mouth and throat like sandpaper. He'd eaten about six plums already, and he wasn't surprised if the two of them devoured the entire tree at that point.

The boys sat leaning against the tree's trunk, resting in the shade beneath its branches. Theron toyed with his sharpened stick, twirling it between his fingers. It was still stained dark from when he'd killed a tribute the other night.

"Get a new stick, will you?" Caelum muttered through a mouthful of plum. "It's stained, and it smells at night when I'm trying to sleep."

Theron prodded at his stick. "It's still kind of wet, too."

Caelum rubbed his temple. He had a headache coming on, despite the fact that his stomach was finally full after days of physical exertion.

Theron smirked. "Regretting your decision to bring me into the Games?"

"If you don't replace that ridiculous stick, yes."

Deep down, Caelum was swamped with guilt. The whole reason Theron was here, battling to the death, was because of him. Yes, they'd made a prearrangement, a mutual agreement that if one of them were to be Reaped then it would be the other who they'd pick. But it didn't ease the pain of knowing that he was dragging his friend to his death.

Theron, however, didn't seem to be too bothered. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying it here. He'd laughed and recounted the details of the brawl that had happened a couple nights ago while washing the blood off his body. It's almost like he loved the kill, as if taking a human life filled his bones with joy. It made Caelum uneasy, sleeping with one eye open.

Which is how, for the past two nights, he had noticed Theron creep off while supposedly on watch. He never returned until a good forty-five minutes later, right when Caelum was supposed to wake up and take over.

Caelum hadn't said anything about it yet, pretending to be asleep until after Theron slunk back into the room, but he kept an eye out for anything that might give away what his friend was doing on those mysterious ventures.

Theron flung his stick at Caelum, the blunt end striking him lightly on the temple. "That's what you get for hating on my stick, Caelum."

Caelum shot a playful glare at Theron. "Careful, buddy. I'm the one with the bow and arrows right here." He gave his quiver a pat. "Don't be surprised if one day, you wake to find one of my arrows through your stick."

Theron feigned a dramatic gasp. "You wouldn't! Not my stick!"

Caelum let out a laugh, but there seemed to be something off about the other boy. When Theron spoke, his voice didn't carry the lighthearted tone that it usually did. His jokes seemed forced, his laughter strained. His eyes were dull, and they flicked away from Caelum's everytime they made eye contact.

The arena was probably getting to him. Alas.

Caelum vaguely wondered what Theron would do if he took the stick and snapped it clean in half right then and there, but decided against it. A whisper in the back of his head floated the scenario that Theron would unironically break Caelum's neck if he ever broke his precious stick.

Caelum thought back to what Theron had said on the train heading for the Capitol: "I'll try to maim a tribute or two for them. Maybe sprinkle in a blindside for some extra flavor."

Caelum scoot just an inch away from Theron.

***

"You're awake!"

Azalea was propped up on her elbows, blinking dazedly. Daphne had gone upstairs to put away her newly refilled water bottle, finding Azalea looking back at her with squinted, confused eyes.

"How long was I out?" Azalea rasped, her voice sounding more gravelly than Daphne's after the incident with Mellie. Daphne offered her some water, which Azalea sipped sparingly. They weren't awfully far away from the canal, but Daphne had to admit that it was a pain walking there and back everytime they finished a drink.

"About two days." Daphne replied.

Azalea's eyes suddenly cleared. She nearly choked on her next sip of water. "Two days? Today is Day Six?"

Daphne nodded. "Don't worry, you didn't miss out on any epic battles or chases. I don't think anyone died, actually."

Somehow that did seem to soothe Azalea. Her grip slipped on the water bottle, setting it down onto the floor before she could drop it. She looked down at her palms, where black flesh still splotched like bruises.

"These dark parts," she murmured, half to herself as she ran her fingers over her hands. "I can't feel anything. It's numb."

"That's because it's rotted skin." Daphne said, going for a gentler tone of voice. She crouched down beside Azalea. "Rye said the poison kills the surrounding skin. We thought about cutting off those parts for you, but we decided to leave that up to you."

"Now, that's no way to greet someone who just woke from a coma." Rye's voice sounded from behind, and Daphne turned to find him leaning casually against the doorframe.

"I was in a coma?" Azalea squeaked.

Daphne shot Rye a scolding glance. "Never mind that, Azalea. What matters is that you're awake and alright."

Azalea didn't look alright, however. She shook out her arms, wincing.

"You may feel pinpricks of pain in your arms for a while." Rye said. "That type of poison targets and kills the nerve cells. Those in your arms are probably going to feel a bit tingly and weak."

Azalea scowled down at herself, then struggled to haul herself to her feet. Daphne and Rye rushed to help, each situating themselves underneath her arms for support. Azalea took a wobbly step forward, then another.

Azalea's fifteenth step faltered, her knees still weak from two days of inactivity. Daphne and Rye caught her with ease, the three of them laughing as they steadied Azalea back on her feet. With every inch forward, Daphne felt the knot in her chest lighten.

Azalea was going to be okay. Azalea wasn't going to die from a foolish mishap with poison. And despite old tangles of foul emotions, Daphne was glad.

***

Azalea waited.

She was curled up beneath the plaid blanket, listening closely to the sound of Daphne rustling around. Azalea tried to match the rhythm of her breathing to Rye's, asleep a couple feet away. Daphne was on watch, but her yawns were becoming more and more frequent. Eventually, she grew silent, her breathing evening out.

Azalea peaked through her eyelashes, finding Daphne with her head propped against the window ledge. Her eyes were closed, and before too long the slightest snore escaped from her lips.

Azalea sat up then, her shoulders sore from holding the same position for what felt like an eternity. It must've only been about fifteen minutes since Daphne took over the watch shift, but Azalea had been pretending to be asleep the whole time.

Azalea slowly got to her feet, blinking back stars as her blood rushed in her head. She'd had a steady, aching migraine ever since she'd woken up from her apparent, short coma. Pinpricks laced her arms as she silently stretched out, then crept from the room.

Thankfully, she managed to keep the creaking steps from groaning too loudly as she descended the stairs and eased the door open. She paused before the front steps of the porch.

Daphne and Rye had walked her down the stairs and showed her how to evade the tripwires crossing the steps earlier. Azalea now knew where to put her feet without ending up with a poisoned bolt in her leg, and she did so while holding her breath. They'd worked to get to her to be able to walk on her own until sunset, and even though she knew she could, her legs still wobbled precariously.

After braving the steps and miraculously remaining upright, she padded down the path in the direction she'd mapped out in her mind. Wherever they'd gone in the arena, Azalea had always kept a mental map of how to get back to that spot.

She began to pick up the pace. Their hideout wasn't far, but she'd already missed the day she was supposed to have been at the spot because of the damn poison.

By the time she reached the convenience store, she had to keep one hand braced on the wall to keep herself from collapsing to her knees. Her legs were nearly numb, feeling like toothpicks supporting a steel bridge. She eventually stumbled to a halt, pressing her back against the wall for support.

"Azalea?"

Her head snapped up, relief swamping over her as she sank to the ground. A figure was jogging towards her, his tawny-colored skin dark against the night.

A smile spread across Azalea's face. "Hello, Theron."

Theron's face emerged from the shadows, illuminating his brown eyes in the moonlight. Concern laced his features as he crouched down before her, taking her hands in his. Azalea let out a breath, his presence seeming to ease a heavy weight from her shoulders.

The night Azalea had pulled Daphne out of the canal was the night she'd first found Theron. Daphne had been fast asleep, and the sun was on the rise. She'd ventured out on her own, hoping to stumble across food with her stomach grumbling. She'd wandered across this very convenience store, rummaging inside in hopes that the Gamemakers had stashed a stale bite or two inside.

Instead, she'd bumped into Theron, who had had the same idea of scavenging through the abandoned store. That was when a sponsored capsule had floated down, containing several bags of crackers. Azalea and Theron had each taken half the cracker bags.

"You found Daphne?"

"Yes, like I said, I just had to fish her out of the canal. Why?"

"Tell you what, I'll try to find Caelum. Meet me back here in two days. On the night of Day Four."

"Okay."

"Don't tell Daphne."

"Why not?"

"Trust me, Azalea. Our meeting must be a secret."

"Are you alright?" Theron now asked, his voice soft. "Why didn't you show up two nights ago, when we agreed?"

"I was sort of in a coma."

Azalea paused for a heartbeat, gazing into Theron's eyes, who were now flared with alarm. He really was beautiful. It seemed that everyone saw him for his charm, his natural showmanship that seemed to glamor him in a way makeup never could. But now Azalea realized, his beauty came from many other places than just his outward persona.

Theron started to sputter, no doubt about to demand more information about her coma, but Azalea grabbed his hands and shushed him.

"Don't worry about me, Theron, really," Azalea insisted. "Did you find Caelum?"

Theron's eyes searched her face, darting this way and that. "I- yes. I found Caelum."

Azalea loosed a breath. That seemed to clear Theron's mind, for he blinked and shook his head. Though when he looked back up, there was still a layer of concern brimming his features.

"Azalea, I'm going to need you to listen to me." He said, his tone serious. "Just hear me out, alright?"

Azalea's head tilted to the side. Something foul crept to the edges of her stomach. Whenever Theron grew serious, it meant something big was coming.

"Daphne's good with knives, Caelum's good with a bow and arrow. What are you and I good at? Charms?"

"I think that's just you," Azalea broke in. "I'm not nearly as charming."

Theron kept going without so much as a passing comment, which was rare for him. "What does charisma have to stand up to steel and wood weapons? Nothing. If they wanted to kill us, we'd be dead before we could even open our mouths and try to talk them out of it. We'd be at their utter, complete mercy.

"But we can change that, Azalea. We can take matters into our own hands before our so-called 'allies' decide it's our time to go. Daphne and Caelum are strong, yes, but take away their weapons and they're powerless. Find the right time to strike, and they can be taken down."

"Wait," Azalea interrupted once more, her headache seeming to flare in intensity. "Wait, what are you saying?"

Azalea already had an idea about what he was trying to say, but she needed him to voice it. She wouldn't believe it any other way. Theron let out a slow exhale, his skin gray against the moonlight.

"I'm going to kill Caelum."

Azalea's headache pulsed, blood suddenly roaring in her head. Theron's entire frame seemed to sag with those words, as if in saying it aloud he finally realized the weight.

Azalea barely had time to process what this would mean for her, as a third voice echoed through the night.

"You're going to what?"

Azalea and Theron both snapped to attention, at a lithe figure emerging from the cover of the shadows. A bow was clutched in one quivering hand, his forest green eyes frozen in shock.

That's when Theron exploded into action.

━━･❪ 🌸 ❫ ･━━