Evening 16

Rye

"Do we have any rubbing alcohol left?"

At Xavier's question, Rye rummaged through their bag full of first aid supplies. There wasn't much left, just a few bandages, two vials that contained unknown contents, and the medicine that Haymitch sent Rosemary.

"No," Rye answered him once he was done searching through the pack. "There's the cream that Haymitch sent Rose. Would that help?"

Xavier looked up from where he was working on cleaning Rosemary's hand–with water from the river that they carried her to in order to get her away from the bodies–and clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "I think that should work to keep infection away. Toss it."

Rye tossed the small tub of cream to Xavier, grabbed some of the fabric bandages from the pack, and went back to his spot on Rosemary's other side. "We can wrap her hand with this."

Xavier didn't reply aloud. He nodded and reached out for the roll of bandages, gripping the end of it with bloody fingers. Rye blinked rapidly at the crimson color and watched as Xavier gently held up Rosemary's injured hand and started winding the bandage around it. The blood stained the brown fabric of the bandage but by the second wrap around, it didn't seep through.

"The bleeding is starting to stop."

Rye gulped noisily and stared down at Rosemary. Her eyes were open, the fading glare of the sun making her brown irises look hazel, and errant tears slowly slid the side of her eyes. Rye wiped them off before they could drip down her neck and into the snow. Rosemary didn't even flinch when he touched her but when he looked back to her face, she was staring at him.

"Rose, can you hear me?" She blinked at him, eyes so tired and sad. "You're gonna be okay, Rosie."

Rosemary's eyes slid shut, another tear slipping out from under her lid.

"I used the last of the medicine Haymitch sent her," Xavier told him, exhaling heavily as he finished wrapping up her hand. "It's not going to last long, neither is the bandage."

Rye's eyes flashed to Xavier, watching as he stood up and grabbed his ax. "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," Xavier told him, resting the ax on his shoulder. "There's five of us left and I don't want to kill either of you."

"I don't want to kill you either," Rye brushed back some hair from Rosemary's face, as if silently reassuring her that he was still there, and stood up. He clasped his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. "I appreciate everything you've done for me and Rose, Xavier. Thank you."

The corners of Xavier's lips quivered ever so slightly; his version of a smile. "It was a good alliance..." he paused thoughtfully. "Kyler was a good guy. More than I expected for a Career."

An image of Kyler's bloody body flashed through Rye's brain; he clenched his stinging eyes shut to get rid of the image. "He was. You are too."

Xavier shrugged. "Good luck."

"You too, dude."

Xavier nodded at him and then glanced down at Rosemary, whose eyes were still sealed shut. He turned then and started walking away; Rye watched him for a moment as he got further away and then went back to Rosemary's side.

"Rosie?"

Rosemary's eyes opened and Rye's stomach dropped at the pure emotion in them.

"Rye," she whispered, voice hoarse from the sheer amount of screaming she had done. "I'm tired."

He closed his eyes. He knew that she wasn't just tired, she was exhausted and she wanted this all to end.

He was too.

But he wasn't giving up. He might have wanted to the day before, but not now. It was either him or Rose that was going home at the end of this and he had to make sure they got to the end. He didn't want to think about what would have to happen if they were the last two left.

"I know," he kissed her forehead. "I know."

-

Day 17

Rye

The whistle of a sponsor's gift woke him up the next morning. The silver parachute glided through the air toward them and fell only a few feet away from him. He got to his feet and picked up the weighty basket, sighing in relief when he smelt the food inside.

"Rose, wake up," he nudged his sister awake and then opened the basket, greedily inhaling the aroma.

The basket was filled with bread, different kinds from different Districts, and a large bag of deer jerky. He pulled out a roll and bit into it, moaning loudly around the bite as he chewed and savored the flavor.

"That bread is from District 3," Rosemary whispered from beside him, almost scaring him for a second. He watched as she picked up a small loaf that looked like something they'd bake at home and stared at it.

"The one you have?" he asked through his chewing.

"The one you're eating," she corrected him and put her bread back in the basket, looking slightly green. "I'm not hungry."

"You should eat, Rose," Rye said disapprovingly. "You need it."

She looked like she was going to argue with him, but hesitated. "Give me a few minutes to wake up. I'll eat then."

Satisfied, Rye nodded and went back to eating, slipping a piece of jerky from the package. He watched Rosemary as he ate. She stared out ahead of them, at nothing, her eyes glassy. Her left hand, her uninjured one, was curled into a tight fist, her fingerless glove protecting her palm from assault.

Is she thinking about Kyler? He couldn't help but wonder. If he was her and he saw what she saw, he would definitely be thinking about it.

"I think we should set up traps around the Cornucopia," Rosemary stated suddenly, popping up onto her feet. When she faltered, probably dizzy from the sudden movement, he reached out and steadied her.

Rye eyed her wearily and swallowed the rest of his bread. "Okay." he took a beat. "I'm not leaving until you eat, though."

Rosemary grimaced and sat back down next to him and started to eat. It took her a bit longer to eat than usual, as she still wasn't feeling well, but when she finally got the bread down, they filled up their water bottles and set off to the Cornucopia.

"How's your hand feeling?" Rye asked as they trekked through the snow. It was snowing pretty badly, obscuring most of their vision. He kept a careful eye out for the other Tributes, not even looking over at his sister when he spoke to her.

"It hurts," Rosemary reported emotionlessly.

"Can you move your fingers?"

"No,"

Rye gulped and glanced back at her through the snow. She was walking much slower than he was–he made an effort to slow his steps in order to walk by her side–and she was so pale she almost looked green. None of the usual redness that came to her cheeks and nose from the cold was present to warm her skin.

"Do you feel sick?"

Rosemary was silent for a second before she surprised him and answered with more than a single word. "It's normal for one to feel sick after sustaining an injury such as mine, especially because we didn't have the proper supplies to clean the wound. Thank you, by the way, for that. I would say thank you to Xavier as well, but he wasn't here when I woke up so I assumed he left the alliance."

She was awake when Xavier left..."You don't remember him leaving?"

Rosemary silently shook her head, giving him a confused look.

"You were awake when he left," he told her, eyebrows furrowed.

Maybe the amount of trauma she went through the day before had her forgetting things? Did the guy from Four hit her on the head and they missed that she had a concussion? They hadn't thought to look, too distracted with stemming the blood from the hole in her hand.

"I don't remember."

"Did you get hit in the head during the fight with Four?"

Rosemary stiffened and he watched her eyes shift back and forth quickly, as if the action was a visible manifestation of her thoughts going wild. "I don't thi–I mean, I don't–I-I don't remember."

"You probably did," Rye said, eyes searching the area in front of them as they continued to trudge through the snow. "Dizziness, short-term amnesia, nausea...I bet you have a headache too."

"I haven't vomited."

"Don't jinx yourself," Rye joked, trying to coax a smile out of her. Thankfully, it worked, though it was only a tiny twitch of her lips. He came to a sudden stop when he looked back ahead, eyes squinting as he spotted the familiar silhouette of the cornucopia just beyond the trees. "We're here."

-

Day 17

Rosemary

It was hard to see anything with it snowing so heavily, but if she squinted, she could see the cornucopia. They kept walking for a few more steps until they stopped by a tree, hiding behind it in case the last two careers were out there.

"We'll have to go quickly," Rye whispered.

"I don't know how fast I can go with one hand," Rosemary pointed out evenly, realistically. "It would probably go faster if I just guide you through it. You have most of it down anyway."

"Yeah, the traps to catch rabbits, not humans," Rye muttered anxiously. "But yeah, we don't have a choice."

Rye slipped off his backpack and took out their coil of rope. Rosemary silently started kicking snow away from the ground in order to find a good place to lay the trap. Together, they quietly put together the trap, Rosemary whispering instructions to Rye and Rye clumsily knotting the rope together until she was satisfied.

After the first trap was set they started walking to the left by ten to twenty feet before starting another one, this time using sticks and metal wire to make a weapon that, if tripped, would stab whoever was around. While Rye set to work doing the complicated part of the trap, Rosemary absently sharpened the sticks into sharp points.

She supposed that she did have a concussion because, try as she might, she could not remember Xavier leaving them the day before. She remembered them carrying her to the river and then she didn't remember anything else. It had to be the excruciating pain she was in that made her black out, or maybe the trauma of seeing Kyler the way that–

Stop, she scolded herself, feeling her stomach turn. She couldn't think about Kyler right now. Not if she wanted to survive the next few hours.

Her skin burned as she closed her eyes, shaking her head to clear away thoughts of Gully's blade running through Kyler's–

She dropped the knife she was using to sharpen the sticks, the movements all too familiar.

The short yet panicked gasp that came out of her mouth caught Rye's attention. Thankfully, her brother was able to put things together and just picked the knife up from the snow and took the last stick from her, finishing it in about half the time it would have taken her.

"Sorry," Rosemary whispered shakily. Sweat beaded at her temple and slipped down her neck but all she felt was cold.

"Don't apologize," Rye's voice was firm but not mean.

She stayed quiet as Rye finished up the second trap and then they moved onto a new one.

Rosemary was ready for this all to be over. She was exhausted, she was in pain, she was sick...she was ready to die. It was why she suggested setting the traps out of nowhere, knowing that they had to do something to get the other Tributes so that she could go and Rye could go home.

Seventeen days, they'd been in this arena...it felt like a lifetime.

She missed Peeta. She missed the way he smelt like buttercream frosting and sunshine. She missed the way his brown eyes brightened when he smiled and the way he'd snore so loud in the morning, she'd wake up minutes before she was supposed to. She missed the unique way that he looked at life and the people in it, she missed his hugs and his smile.

Peeta wasn't the only one she missed. She missed Kline and Delly and her dad, too, but Peeta was the most important, other than Rye. Rye was with her now, of course, but somehow she missed him too.

Tears stung her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to wish them away, but they slipped down her cheeks, warming her clammy skin.

Nothing was going to be the same for Rye, Rosemary realized. She would have the sweet, sweet relief of death, but he wouldn't. He would go home and live the life of a Victor. He'd go on a Victory Tour, make friends with the other Victors and Capitolites, and he would have to live with the knowledge that his sister was dead, and so were twenty-two other teenagers who were unlucky enough to be born in the twelve Districts of Panem.

What would Rye be like as a Victor?

She found herself not wanting to think about it, because she knew that he wouldn't be happy. It would be easier to die if she fooled herself into thinking that Rye and Peeta and everyone else she loved would live on happily ever after. It wasn't possible and not just because she'd be dead. It would be impossible because of the country and vicious circus they lived in. The Hunger Games would never stop, even if Rye did go home. Maybe Peeta would get Reaped the next year, or the year after that. Maybe Rye's kids would go into the arena one by one until they were all dead or Victors like their father.

She thought of her conversation with Kyler, about the afterlife and them watching over their loved ones. How could she watch as her brothers trudged through an unhappy life? The answer was easy; they would be alive and they would be together.

Though the sun wasn't fully on display because of the blizzard, it was still noticeable when evening came and it set for the night, bathing the whole arena in darkness. Now on their sixth trap, almost done with the semi-circle they had made through the woods half-surrounding the Cornucopia, they were ready to rest. Rosemary was in extreme pain and felt frozen to the bone, and it was clear that Rye was exhausted and hungry.

Boom!

The siblings paused as the cannon boomed throughout the arena. Before they could even ponder which Tribute had died, a deeper, louder rumbling echoed around them and the ground vibrated under their feet. They looked around wildly, trying to figure out what was happening, when Rye saw it.

"It's an avalanche!" he shouted, eyes wide with horror as snow and rock came rushing down the mountainside. "Run, head for the Cornucopia!"

Rosemary took off toward the Cornucopia with Rye running ahead of her, much faster with his long legs and uninjured body. Her heart was racing so fast in her chest as she ran for her life, the ground shaking under her already unsteady feet.

Boom!

Rosemary's foot caught on a tree root and she slammed into the ground. A scream left her lips as she fumbled her way back onto her feet, her hand feeling like it was about to fall off of her wrist, and stumbled on.

"Rose, come on!" Rye yelled frantically as he reached the Cornucopia. The ice made climbing the side of the huge statue difficult, but he barely managed, scooting himself up until he was fully on the top of it. He turned back around just as Rosemary reached the Cornucopia.

Unfortunately, the mass of snow, ice, and rock was not far behind her.

"RYE!"

Rosemary frantically reached for her brother and screamed shrilly when he grabbed her hands, pulling her onto the Cornucopia with him. Cradling her bad hand to her chest, she sobbed, the pain and adrenaline pumping through her veins. Black spots formed in her vision and she couldn't breathe.

She was underwater. She couldn't smell anything but blood and she couldn't hear a thing but the water she was drowning in. Her chest ached so badly she was sure she was going to die, and she couldn't breathe!

Rosemary's eyes shot open when her body was shaken roughly. She wasn't underwater. Rye was leaning over her, blue eyes full of tears, and he was saying something, but she couldn't hear him. She couldn't hear anything but the sound of her heartbeat and faint screaming.

Wait, was she screaming?

The screaming stopped.

"...breathe, Ro...just...breathe," slowly, she started hearing Rye's voice.

He, himself, was out of breath, but he was still there, trying to calm her down.

A sob left Rosemary's lips as she forced herself to sit up, wrapping her good arm around Rye. She hugged him as tight as she could, using all the strength she had in her body.

"It's okay," Rye wheezed, his own tears falling.

Neither of them noticed that the avalanche had stopped until they had let each other go.

"It just stopped," Rye was perplexed, staring at the huge wall of snow, rocks, and ice that stopped just beyond half of the forest.

"It's the Gamemakers."

"What?" Rye scoffed. "Things were getting too boring for them? I doubt it. Not after–" he swiftly cut himself off.

Rosemary clenched her eyes shut for a second, knowing what he was going to say.

Not after the way Kyler died.

The ache in her chest, which had calmed down during her hug with Rye, flared again, visions of Kyler's flayed skin making her stomach turn.

She turned away from Rye and vomited, unable to control her body's reaction to the horrid memories. She dropped to her hands and knees as she heaved, her body giving up the little bread she had eaten earlier that day. She was crying again–or did she ever even stop?

"I'm sorry," Rye whispered as he crouched down next to her as she dry-heaved. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's–" she paused and heaved again, coughing thickly. "It's true."

"I still shouldn't have said it, not after what you've gone through."

With shaky arms, Rosemary pushed herself into a sitting position, cradling her bad hand in her lap. The bandage was soaked through from both the snow and her blood. Luckily she avoided getting vomit on it as well.

"It happened to Kyler, not to me."

"Rose."

She knew that Rye didn't agree, but she didn't want to talk about it anymore. It wouldn't matter soon anyway. She'd be dead.

"I don't want to talk about it, Rye, please."

Rye nodded, noticing the desperation in her voice. "Okay."

Panem's anthem echoed through the arena and the emblem lit up the sky, even through the flurries surrounding them.

Cleo from District 2 appeared first.

Using her good hand, Rosemary wearily saluted the girl.

"What does Cleo mean?" Rye prompted when she didn't immediately speak.

"To celebrate."

Xavier's face appeared next.

Rye was silent as he stared up at his face. Xavier had been a good ally. No, he had been a good friend. He kissed his fingers and joined Rosemary's salute.

"Goodbye, friend," he whispered and looked at Rosemary expectantly.

"Xavier means bright," She said softly, looking up at the sky as Xavier's face slowly disappeared.

-

Day 18

Rosemary

They stayed atop the Cornucopia for the rest of the night, but by morning they were restless. They didn't know what was going to happen once they killed Biff, the last remaining Tribute. There could only be one winner, they both knew that, but neither of them wanted to confront what would happen when it was just the two of them.

Ignorance is bliss, as Kyler would say.

The snow from the avalanche was gone when they woke up, and the blizzard from the day before had slowed into light flurries. With the milder weather, they decided to leave the Cornucopia before Biff, wherever he was, could sneak up on them. They walked in the direction of the river they had been to last. They needed water in their canteens and Rye wanted to clean Rosemary's wounded hand.

"There's not a point," Rosemary told him as they walked. "I'm going to be dead soon, anyway. Wouldn't you rather have an infection kill me instead of having to do it yourself?"

Rye glared at her. "Don't talk like that. I'm not killing you, and neither is an infection."

"Then either I'll have to kill myself or we let Biff do it." Rosemary pointed out matter-of-factly. She kept her tone even, like the thought of dying didn't scare her. Maybe it would be easier for Rye to accept if she acted like it didn't. "At least then it'll be easier to kill him, to avenge me."

"Rose, please just shut up and keep walking."

"I don't even know where we're going."

"The river, remember?"

Oh, that's right, she remembered absentmindedly. Maybe I do have a concussion...

"Still, I think we should talk about what's going to happen," she stated.

Rye gave her a disgruntled look. "Do we have to?"

"I think I would like to have a plan, yes. Besides, I need to give you my final words." Rosemary was completely serious, which baffled Rye.

"Since when are you able to put your emotions into words?" he asked. It was very unlike Rosemary, who preferred action over words, especially accounting for the fact that she had trouble turning her thoughts into actual speech at times.

"I've been thinking about it for the last couple of days," Rosemary admitted sheepishly. "I just want to make sure I tell you everything before I can't."

She watched her brother as he rolled his eyes. If they weren't in the Hunger Games at the moment, she could probably close her eyes and picture them at home, bickering like siblings always do.

"Fine," Rye stopped walking and turned abruptly to face her, stopping her in her tracks. "Go on, then. Hit me."

Rosemary's stomach turned and she thought she might vomit again. This was it, huh?

"When I die and you go home, I need you to take care of Peeta, okay?"

Rye's expression softened immediately. "Of course I will."

"But you'll have to do it twice as hard, because I won't be there."

"Rose–"

"And you'll have to help him with his homework. He forgets about it," she interrupted him, eyes stinging. "He's getting really good at decorating the cakes now, but don't let him go too crazy or Mother won't let him sell them. And don't let her touch him again," she choked. "I couldn't protect him, but you can."

"Rose, you did protect him," Rye objected, eyes red. "I should have protected both of you. I'm sorry I didn't do more."

"It wasn't your responsibility and it doesn't matter now, anyway." Rosemary's voice was firm even as tears slipped down her cheeks. "My point is, Peeta is going to need you more than ever. And you'll need him. Be each other's Northern star."

She inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm down.

"Tell him that I love him and I'll watch over him from the stars, okay?"

Rye gulped. "I will."

"And I love you, too. You have been the best big brother and I am so proud of you and all that you're going to do."

She watched as Rye scoffed and squeezed his eyes shut, tears glistening on his cheeks. Within seconds he was marching toward her and pulling her into a hug. She buried her face into his shoulder and closed her eyes, trying to live in the moment. This was the last time she was going to hug her brother.

"Here's my last words to you, okay, Rosie?" Rye whispered, his chin resting on her head. "I love you and I'll take care of Peeta on one condition."

Rosemary snorted. "What's that?"

"That you watch over me, too."

Rosemary squeezed him tighter. "Always."

Rye squeezed her back for a long moment and then released her, painting a big smile on his face that she saw right through. They were both hurting, deeply, and neither of them wanted the other to see it.

"All this crying made me thirsty," Rye laughed, clearly trying to lighten up their moods. "Let's get to that river, okay?"

-

It was well known to the two oldest Mellark siblings that they were notoriously unlucky. The fact that they were Reaped in the same year was just one example. Of course, the Hunger Games were bad for all the Tributes, but they seemed to really go through stuff that wasn't the usual experience for a random Tribute. Still, Rosemary and Rye never thought that their bad luck could get worse.

But it did, of course.

They spotted Biff at the same time he saw them.

He was sitting on the bank of the icy river, washing out a gnarly wound on his leg. It wasn't debilitating, as far as Rosemary could tell, but she knew it probably hurt badly. When he laid eyes on them, he calmly reached for his spear and stood up.

Rye was already moving.

Bystaff in hand and at the ready, he was running toward Biff before Rosemary could even blink. As the two boys clashed together, holding each other off with the steel of their weapons, she pulled out a knife from her vest and made her way toward them. When Rye saw her, he pushed away from Biff and kicked at him, sending him toward Rosemary's direction.

It was as if they had coordinated the move before it even happened. Rosemary took the opportunity when Biff stumbled closer to her to stab him in the shoulder. He screamed and whipped around, spear flailing between them. Rosemary ducked away from the weapon and pushed him back, letting go of the knife in the process, but Rye hissed as the blade of Biff's spear caught him in the thigh, dangerously close to his femoral artery.

Rosemary panicked when she saw the blood soak through Rye's pants and sprung into action, jumping on Biff's back. Hanging on tightly as he tried to buck her off, she dug her teeth into his shoulder and bit as hard as she could. With a mighty cry, Biff blindly tore her off of him and threw her to the ground.

Rosemary screamed as his boot came down on her injured hand, feeling her bones crumble underneath the weight of him. Her vision went white for a moment from the pure fiery pain coursing through her veins, but she heard Rye yell and then the clang of metal on metal.

She opened her eyes as Rye stabbed Biff in the stomach with the spear end of his bystaff. Biff dropped to the ground but Rye didn't stay to watch him die, instead going to tend to Rosemary. She grunted as he pulled her to her feet with her good hand and hovered over her anxiously.

"Is it broken?"

Rosemary didn't answer. The way she had been pulled up to her feet had made her extremely dizzy and it was taking all of her dwindling energy to stay on her feet and not fall over.

"Rose? Rose, are you alr–" Rye's voice was cut off by a gargled cough.

Rosemary's eyes popped open at the concerning noise and gasped when she saw the sharp, bloody tip of a spear rip its way out of Rye's stomach. Rye dropped to his knees and Rosemary tried to catch him, but she couldn't carry his weight.

Her breath coming out in pants, she grunted and sobbed as she tried to get Rye in a good position. He was losing blood quickly and was yelling with every movement she made, screaming when she placed her hands on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. You're gonna be okay, Rye!"

"Ro–" Rye coughed, blood spurting out onto his chin. "Bif–!"

Rosemary's eyes widened when she realized what he was talking about. She whipped her head around to look for Biff but he was nowhere to be found.

"F-Find him!" Rye spluttered, more blood staining his lips. She shook her head and put more pressure on his wound, ignoring her pain in the process, but he slapped her hands away. "G-Get him, Rose. G-Go!"

Rosemary didn't know what to do. She couldn't let go of Rye or he'd bleed out. But she couldn't let Biff come back and kill her, either. "No," she cried. "Rye–"

"Go!" he interrupted her. Blood spurted out of his mouth and hit her face, making her flinch away.

Rosemary sobbed and let go of Rye's wound. She couldn't hardly see as she got to her feet and grabbed Rye's bystaff, following the trail of bloody snow away from the river. Her chest ached so badly she was sure she was having a heart attack, but she kept going, not wanting to disappoint Rye.

When she finally came upon Biff, he was in the leg snare that she and Rye had set up the day before. He was unconscious already, obviously having lost too much blood from the blow that Rye had dealt him, but she used the spear tip of the bystaff to slice his throat. It was quick and anticlimactic and the cannon went off a second later.

Boom!

Rosemary did not hover and ran back to Rye.

His eyes were closed when she threw herself down next to him, panic coursing through her veins. "Rye?" she shook him by the shoulders and cried out when his blue eyes opened. "Rye! Don't you dare die on me."

Rye laughed, but it was quiet with no humor behind it. An errant tear ran down the side of his face. "Rose..."

"You can't do this, Rye. Please!" her voice was hysterical as she pushed her hands onto his wound. He should have winced from the pain, but he didn't even notice the movement. "Rye, please!"

"See yo..." he wheezed, his breath dying quickly before he shuddered in a new, but shallow breath. "...i...the stars..."

Rosemary screamed his name as his eyes slipped closed.

"RYE? RYE, WAKE UP! RYE!"

She shook his body even as the cannon boomed overhead and Claudius Templesmith's voice echoed throughout the arena.

He wasn't dead. He couldn't be. Rye could not die.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present the Victor of the Seventieth Hunger Games, Rosemary Mellark!"