If stars could shine during the day with half the ferocity they did at night then there would never have been a reason for Elijah to stop moving. His head pounded with the blows he'd received and there were enough nicks and scraps lining his body that nothing could make them better again. Around him, the Garlic child and Melissa lay fast asleep, light snores and gentle breathing coming from all of them. Before passing out for the night, everyone had helped make traps around their little burrow in the garden. If any cards passed they would be unable to move or get around the thick foliage. For the past three hours, Elijah had stood watch. No tributes, no cards, no signs of life were anywhere. Just leaves, bushes, and enough flowers to fill the arena up three times over.

    Standing, eighteen pops sounded like gunfire. Elijah winced and placed a hand on his back gently. "Shh," he muttered, mainly to himself, "don't wake the sleeping."

    They sleeping continued their job and Elijah tip-toed out of their safe place. The air was nearly seventy-five degrees, the sky a pure periwinkle, and a half-moon dotted the horizon. Across from it shined the bright ball of orange and yellow that was often known as the prettiest star in the universe. Wet spruce, cedar, and apple-blossom wafted by as the wind tugged at his hair. Drifting, Elijah followed where it led him, taking huge gulps of air as he did so.

    "They're probably starving," he whispered. His own stomach ached with hunger and the noises that came from it were enough to make him move faster. "I need to find them something to eat. Then...then...we'll stalk out the other tributes. We can find them and follow them until nightfall, sending in Melissa to distract them, and we'll slit their throats while they sleep. There's so little left. We can do this. We'll be together in the end."

    Thoughts, like his feet, moved and fell apart at the seams with every passing second. Try as he might, keeping from stumbling was no use, for constantly he fell and with a gritty persistence he would land on his knees and pull himself back up, moving through the gardens and looking for food. A hum caught on the air, light and fluffy.

    Someone's here.

    Following it was the sharp scent of spice, contrasting greatly with nature all around him. Not only was someone there--they had food. I can get it. I can get it and come back and feed them. Without food, they would all die within a matter of days. The water they had gathered was low enough already. Wiping the dirt off his hands and onto his pants, Elijah bent at the knees and pushed through the gardens as he made his way closer to the sound. Hums became dim words; thoughts that traveled past the deepest mountains tumbled through his mind and they too lit fire to his core. A tremble overcame him at the sound, as though the bass itself had become his soul.

    The essence of Elijah, a false prophet to his mother, a stupid boy to his father, a cowardly leader to the children of five. The boy who let his sister go in alone and die. People looked up to him but it was all a lie. Elijah knew it was a lie. But they didn't know. No one knew as he knew; no one held the secret of Elijah.

    Words came from him and it was as though the arena had ceased to exist. Ellie's voice surrounded him on all sides, soft and light, hovering over his soul and telling the world his truth. She told them all of his failures, of his regrets, of what he had done wrong. They still didn't know, though, for she herself didn't know what he knew. If she did, if only she could, it would be different.

    A flash of white to his left, the rustle of bushes, and something had passed. Tufts of fur over a small, agile body that was used to running and hiding almost as much as he. Elijah kept his attention off of it—If it kills me let it. I must find her. Where is she? Where is Ellie? A voice was behind his words, trying to say something, but it was overpowered by the song and died away. No, Elijah killed it. Mentally it was shredded and torn apart, let for an animal to eat in the woods, for no longer would he harbor the voice and allow it to control his life so. No voices, no songs, no arena. I am the truth, not it. Voices have only brought trouble. Song—song, where is that song coming from?

    Open eyes that could not see brought him only trouble. Yet no matter where his head turned and no matter how fast his body became he could not find the source of the music. No living beings were there—only endless strips of flowers. Arranged in an odd sequence, the large buds swayed in the wind, as though they themselves heard the beat. Panting, Elijah fell heavy against the ground and lay his head down against the dirt. Small hummocks of dirt showed where something had passed by earlier. Feet so tiny and paws so particular that they could only belong to a rabbit or similar animal caught his eye and he breathed deeper, as if to smell where the animal had once been. Though he only caught dirt, his mind seemed to ease some.

    Ahead, he watched the puffy clouds pass by. They knew—Elijah could feel it in his bones. One look and he knew that they knew the truth of him. The only thing in the entire arena and it's a cloud. A singing cloud, humming along to a tune I cannot find, and it knows me. A cloud. God, am I going insane? This can't be happening. I can't lose it. Not now. I'm so close to saving her. If I can reach the end, if I can protect Ellie—Melissa--if I can only get that far...she'll be safe. I can't lose it all before I even reach the end.

    Though it was a far cry from an epiphany, Elijah's eyes diverted to the left and he leaned close to one of the flowers. No thoughts, just actions, yet the realization hit him hard and left him shocked as the music grew louder and stronger. Clear, definite sounds came from the flowers. It wasn't a breeze that shook them, rather they themselves were leaning on their stems back and forth to the beat they created.

    "Well fuck me up," he said. A laugh cascaded from his throat and hit the world with the driving force of a train. It racked his body back and forth and only after it had ended, nearly a full minute later, did Elijah smile and shake his head. "Flowers. Singing flowers. One more twists and I'm going to have a heart attack," he told the sky about him. The tune carried on but it was more profound now that he knew where it came from. "And to think that I had been worried. By flowers. No, no, my mind must calm and my heart must cease its relentless beating. I cannot be so controlled by unnameable emotions."

    Garlic was right. That dammed child was right. I talk...my voice is funny. Why do I speak the matters of my heart as though the world is a page and I am the rhetorician scribbling them onto paper. All his life he had spoken like that, with the stories left upon his lips and the words flowing since he was but a babe. His first words had been remarkably simple but the second he had gotten into sentences...they flowed. From the minimalist 'Can I have a drink?' to 'Might I have a sip of water?' he switched them over and over about inside his mind until everything was utter perfection. Adults had laughed when he first spoke, for he spoke with a lisp and every other word was broken, but then he figured out the secret of communication.

    Elijah, overnight, became a speaker. Teachers picked him to read, students would go to him when they didn't know what to say, and Ellie adored him. That sweet girl would listen to each word that left his mouth and he loved her with every ounce of his soul. When she was reaped he had been too shocked to stand up for her, to volunteer. Shocked, or plain too scared, Elijah couldn't do it. A week later, when she died on screen, he had ran into his room and screamed until his voice became hoarse. It wasn't for months after that he could even talk, for everything fumbled in his mouth. Then, she wasn't dead.

    How could she be dead when he saw her everywhere?

    In his dreams, in his mind, talking to him, just around the corner she would turn, leaving him hopeless save to follow her. The one girl he wanted to keep and Elijah couldn't protect her. It was then that he vowed to protect everyone else—to save those important and leave behind those who held nothing of value. On that list was everyone he believed held something important—even Garlic, small and useless as the boy appeared to be, was there, albeit closer to the bottom than most. Ellie was number one there. Death couldn't hold him back from wanting her to still be alive, from wanting to reverse the clock and bring back what had once been his everything.

    "Hear this, Ellie?" he whispered, tears pooling in the crevices of his eyes. "The flowers are singing for you. They know. We know."

    He could feel the softness of her skin on his chin, a light kiss, and then her voice. "It's okay," she whispered, the ghost or apparition it mattered not, for she was there and she was whole. A second, two, and then nothing but dust.

    She was gone.

    Reaped, taken, trained, murdered in hot blood. Warmth, hatred, the putrid smell of weeks of mourning and tears that stained more blankets than a flood could. Pain, thick and throbbing, had wound over him. Torture had embedded itself into his soul. Nightmares, sick thoughts, a voice that would tell him lies and lead him to destruction.

    Two words and it was gone.

    Two words, nearly three, and yet it was more than enough.

    Elijah found himself standing with no knowledge of the action of it. Knees bloodied and clothing torn from fight and yet he felt no more pain. It was there, surely it was, and he cared so little for it that nothing could be real. Light danced in his eyes, a dark tunnel with bits of green and yellow from the ever rising sun. Just behind his lids he saw a world of static laws and broken life, a world of death and murder and hatred. Everything that was bad existed there—yet there was light found in the middle. In the strange child trying to survive and in the one who lay sleeping not far away from him, the girl with the green eyes and the mellow heart. In the scared, in the timid, that is where the hope was, and Elijah knew that it was his job to care for them. Where they failed he had to arise and fix.

    They're starving. I'm starving. Food.

    Thoughts, for that was all they ever were, could only be words. Simple, brutal meanings in a less than passionate world.

    A flash of white again, the barest shake of leaves and a snap of branch. Wood, cracked, followed by a thump and a low, guttural groan. Elijah stood on alert, all senses heightened. A person. The voice, fast and rapid, almost gone before he could decipher it. "Late, late, late," they muttered.

    Cinnamon? Cole? Jonathan? Fuck, who is that?! Think, Elijah! Think! No names came to mind. The voice, so small, so timid, yet rapid and thick. An accent that he'd never encountered before, something almost...almost...

    White again, then a smudge of brown to dot the ears. Elijah took three steps forward, pushing past a bush—making certain not to hit any of the lightly singing flowers as he did so—and finally saw the entire creature. A rabbit, dressed to the tee, standing in a patch of purple clovers. Purple clovers? It stood at the base of a great walnut tree, plentiful with seed and bursting at the seems. The rabbit twitched its nose at him, blinked one eye, and hopped away. Just as it left, Elijah noticed a red pocket watch in its hands. A rabbit with a watch? A late rabbit with a watch.

    Off it was once more, leaving Elijah to hastily take off his jacket and fill it with the nuts and clovers. He chuckled, shaking his head, but didn't fight it. "Food, for death is imminent and fate is to ensue. Food, as though a gift," he said aloud. "We enter into hell, but we'll go together, won't we? God, I better get back before something finds them there. I hope they haven't woken yet."

    Hurried, Elijah tied off his bundle and threw it over his shoulder. It hit a bruise yet he didn't flinch, knowing that pain was but a reminder of what was happening and was to happen still. Pain, for that was all the arena was. Elijah knew pain. Elijah knew and it didn't scare him away as it did before; he didn't shy away from his knowledge, nor did he let it control him. I have to protect them. A smile graced his face and fell heavily onto the world, brightening it as the clouds passed away and two pigeons flew past overhead. It's time.

*

Aside from the fact that I'm failing to make Elijah less crazy, how's this? Any thoughts before I send it in? :)