Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Adventure - Finnick O., Annie C., Katniss E., Peeta M. - Chapters: 50 - Words: 218,162 - Reviews: 712 - Favs: 450 - Follows: 295 - Updated: Dec 1, 2012 - Published: Mar 27, 2012 - Status: Complete - id: 7964703

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Sorry that last chapter was so short, I spent a good chunk of my eighteen hour drive writing this chapter. So as always, enjoy!

Chapter 7

Fire Melts Gold

I woke as the anthem began to play and the Capitol's symbol lit up the sky. My wounds felt so much better, it was like a miracle. I was no longer bleeding and the only pain I felt was the stiffness in my back from laying so awkwardly. I watched to see who died today.

Rye, yes of course. I remember. Her eyes looked hateful even in her hologram. The boy from three. The girl from eight. And that was all for today. Thirteen dead, ten more to go before a victor could be crowned. My heart pulsed with anxiety and I realized how exposed I was here, in the open...sleeping. It was getting to be nightfall and I knew the Careers would come looking for me now that they knew I wasn't dead. And there were other kids out there too, waiting to kill me at the most opportune time.

It's the Sixty-fifth Hunger Games. You're in the Hunger Games. More than half of you are dead already. You need to start thinking of a plan.

What day was it? Day four? Day five? Hard to keep track. I was hungry, that's for sure. And thirsty. I grabbed the containers I left out that got filled with rainwater. The bad weather had stopped for the most part, but everything was damp and humid now. I didn't like the feeling of being soaked through my skin, but I suppose I would have to deal with it.

Where's this river of acid and fire of Hell? The worst this arena's done to me is a cold shower.

I didn't know what I planned to do with it, but I started making a net out of the long blades of grass around me. It was easy work compared to some other things I've done. Before long I had a full net capable of catching animals or maybe even a human. Too bad I didn't have any weapon to kill anyone with. Just for fun, and for the sponsors, I set a snare and concealed the net under the foliage. It wasn't hard because the grass just blended right in to the rest of the terrain. Then, I stood off to the side and threw a small rock so that it triggered my trap and it snapped up, capturing the rock easily.

Perfect.

I reset the snare and then hid myself and my pack in a bush, allowing myself to fall back asleep.

Morning. The forest glowed with the sun above the cover. I stretched and yawned, glad for a full night of rest. My stomach reminded me I was neglecting it, so I ate the bread I was sent from the Capitol. Stale, but delicious. I checked the snare, but nothing had triggered it. I poked the catch with a stick to make sure it was working, and sure enough the net snapped up to trap the stick.

"Impressive," an invisible voice hissed. I tensed and looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. My heart was thudding hard against my chest. Who was it? Viper? Hector? Celeste?

The boy from five stepped out, holding a pack full of food and a spear in his hand. I was ready to run, but he lowered his spear and held out his hands.

"Truce. I'm here to offer an alliance."

I scoffed and didn't relax my position. Everything about this screamed trap.

"What kind of an alliance? I can kill well enough on my own."

The boy shrugged, "Food. I know the roots and nuts and fruits that edible in this jungle, and which are not. One wrong move and you're..." he slid his finger across his throat. I guess that meant dead.

But I still didn't like the look of this boy. His ashy blonde hair was hanging in strings over his forehead and his eyes were like slits on his face. His mouth was just as thin, as if instead of a mouth he had an open cut. Snake-like, almost.

"Prove it."

The boy laughed, and shook his head. "You're alone and unarmed, what makes you think you have negotiating powers here?"

Damn he's right.

No, wait. Think Finnick.

"I do. For one thing, that's not the only snare I set up; you make one false move you are...as you say..." I slide my finger across my throat to mimic him, "And you must want something from me, or else you wouldn't be trying to form an alliance in the first place."

Okay, so the snares were a bluff, but hopefully he wouldn't call it. The boy's mouth stretched up into a sardonic grin.

All he needs is a forked tongue and he's a python.

"Very insightful, Finnick. I'm Carson, by the way. What I want is to learn how to set snares like that. And maybe some of the support you get from the sponsors. I already said I'd teach you about the edible plants in the forest here, and help you kill the Careers, if that's what you wish."

"I said prove it, if you don't mind."

He looked to his side, pulled up a plant, and took a bite right out of the root.

"See?"

I appraised him, looking for whatever it was he was hiding. But I saw nothing and I was going to need some food, the sponsors wouldn't be able to feed me this entire time.

"Fine, but you're going to walk at my side this whole time, and give me a weapon."

Carson nodded and handed over his spear, pulling out a small dagger from his pack.

"Okay, so first thing first, you have to get a net, like this one," I told him, holding up my grass net, "I'm going to leave that part up to you. Then you tie this knot like this..."

I showed him how to do the most complicated snare I could-one that wasn't even that good-until it was about midday.

"I wonder what the others are doing right now?" Carson wondered out loud, looking around them. It's true, the Careers made no appearance nor did anyone else from what I could see and hear. I felt like a sitting duck, waiting to be shot.

"I don't know. Odd. Show me some plants now?" I asked once he had finally managed to get his snare to catch. He showed me a kind of mushroom I could eat, along with two kinds of roots, and some weird nuts and fruits. At home there was a tropical rainforest if you were willing to travel that far, but they were loaded with mangos, plantains, coconuts, bananas, and all sorts of delicious edible things. Here, I got roots and bark.

"Be careful of these," Carson said, pointing to a brightly colored frog, "they're very poisonous."

I nodded and marveled as the little critter hopped away into the unknown. The boy and I decided to move locations so we wouldn't attract others. We walked until we hit the most marvelous thing I've ever seen. A circular clearing with sunlight dazzling upon the twisted vines that draped down from the tops of the trees. Colorful birds flew lazily above, singing songs to one another.

"What is this?" I asked, amazed. It was so beautiful.

"Looks dangerous," Carson responded, shuffling around anxiously. His spear was raised as if to ward off an invisible predator. There was a path of rocks leading to the center, where a pie was sitting. I could smell it all the way from where I was standing, a berry pie...still hot.

Oh, yes.

"Finnick...I don't think we should go for it. It's clearly a trap."

I tapped the rock with my foot, and when nothing happened, stepped on it. "I think we have to walk on the rocks. Don't step off."

It was easy for me, I'd spent a good chunk of my childhood hopping on rocks to avoid falling in the water. Carson stood at the edge, refusing to come any further. More pie for me, I guess.

I reached the middle, and a food item never seemed so good to me in my entire life. I was about to dig in when I realized that this was the Hunger Games, and a pie just didn't sit in the middle of the games just for the sake of it. What was I thinking? It was probably poisoned.

I picked it up, trying to see what was going on with it.

"Ahh! Finnick! Help!"

At first I thought he was yelling because the ground was beginning to tremble. But then I spun around and saw the vines coming to life, picking him up by the neck. He was kicking and flailing but more vines would latch on. I ran forward, careful only to step on the rocks.

What am I doing? Why am I helping him? I should let him die.

But as I was thinking that, I was cutting him free. I had to take the dagger from his hand and use it to saw through their thick arms. Carson dropped free and clutched his throat, gasping for air. Then I noticed another knife on the ground.

My knife.

"You!" I shouted. But I stepped off the rock and was suddenly being whipped into the air. Vines encircled my legs and torso. Carson took one look at me, then grabbed my knife from the ground and took off as fast as he could while I struggled to get free.

"You filthy snake!" I choked after him, trying to keep the vines away from my neck. Number one rule, always have an arm up in front of your throat so they can't wrap all the way around.

The dagger, I still had the dagger. My arms were being restrained but I was able to free my hand and cut some of the vines loose. I had the strange sensation of being turned upside-down. More hacking, cutting, struggling, and then I was sent crashing to the ground head-first. My pack was still on my shoulders, but my dagger was lost in the vines. The pie was smashed, and little bugs were crawling out of it. Good thing I didn't eat it.

The ground was still rumbling though, and for the life of me I had no idea what was going on. An earthquake, maybe?

I ran away from the clearing, trying to escape the heavy vibrations, but they only seemed to be getting worse. It got to the point I couldn't walk straight anymore.

"What is going on?" I screamed, not caring who heard. Let them come!

Then I heard it, an explosion of some sort. I looked up to the sky and the 'cliff' at the west side of the arena was projectile-vomiting something bright red.

Oh no.

Lava. That one wasn't a cliff, it was a volcano. And I was cleverly running straight for it.

I spun around on my heels and dashed as fast as my legs would take me. I heard a scream and then a canon fire, but I kept running. No way was I going to die in this arena by being burned to death by molten rock. No way.

Another canon. Another kid was dead.

I ran until I was in the thick of the jungle, but the temperature was rising and I could hear the approach of the lava slide from the distance behind me. So I allowed myself a moment's breath and then took off again. But while I was running I tore the frame from my backpack and bent it into a fish-hook like shape.

It would have been a difficult task for anyone outside of District four, but for us, bending weird metal objects into hooks was second nature. I realized my only safety was to climb up, so I got prepared while I ran. I pulled on the gloves even though I was sweaty and hot as it was. Then fastened my rope to my belt and tied the other end to the hook. My backpack sagged uncomfortably without it, but it didn't matter. I would worry about it when I was safe.

The knot on my belt was secure, there was no doubt of that. I couldn't help but make a side note of gratitude towards my District for all those years of knot tying, rope work, and hooks.

I reached the cliff on the other side and threw the hook up. It caught something, but when I pulled it came back down.

I tried again and still nothing. I could hear the trees breaking behind me and knew if I didn't get it this time, I was a goner. The Capitol's little Golden Boy would be melted down to nothing.

I wonder if they'd make some jewelry out of my remains or just sell me to the highest bidder?

So all I needed was this one good toss, and finally, it caught. The hook had lodged itself into a thick, secure crevice. Without any further delay I hoisted myself up and used the rocks as handles and foot holds, making sure to wind up the rope on my belt so I wouldn't fall all the way down if I lost my grip.

Luckily it seemed this cliff was more or less a steep mountain, because there was a wide ledge that I reached easily enough and took a much-needed break. Not that I was high up, I could see the damage done on the arena by the lava. Half the forest was taken out, replaced by piping red and black rock. Any trees that remained in the lava slide were burning.

Hey look, it's Hell.

No acid river but I think lava may be a little bit worse. I peaked around to make sure no one was on my ledge with me, and when I was satisfied I tied myself up with the rope and then secured it to a jagged piece of the mountain. That way, even if I rolled over in my sleep, I wouldn't fall.

The smell in the arena was ashy and rank with sulfur; it made me want to gag. But it was late, and I had a long day. So rather than address the fact I was clueless and weaponless and foodless, I drank the rest of my water decided to sleep.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

That was an exciting day. I watched Finnick escape a lava slide, and watched the girl from District Eleven and the boy from District Eight fall victim to it. At least it was a quick death, though there wasn't even enough of their incinerated bodies for the aircraft to pick up afterwards. I watched in wonder as the Careers managed to run to the safe side of the forest. Carson managed to find refuge there as well, but the girl from his district ended up climbing the cliff, as did the boys from Seven and Six. Miraculously they all were so spread apart, they didn't encounter one another on the climb.

The ash and smoke caused those who remained in the forest to pass out, and the ones on the cliff were coughing violently. But Finnick was alive. A lull fell over the games to allow the tributes to recover, and a rain began to pour. I think there was even some sleet in the mix. The shower was rapidly cooling the rock off, making it hiss and steam. But even the freezing rain wouldn't wake the tributes through that night and even into the morning.

"Annie, come here I want to do your hair," Pearl said from the table. She had grown bored of the games and didn't pay them much mind. I complied and sat still as she brushed out the knots and braided it back. It always reminded me of our mother before she died; it was possibly the nicest thing Pearl did for me.

Once she was done, I ran outside and almost crashed into the circle of Finnick's closest friends. Crest, Brye, Dawn, and Martin. They were all talking excitedly about Fin's new fame and how well he was doing in the games. I waved hello and they all smiled back. I was a little too shy to try and join in with them, but I think they liked me. Well enough, anyway.

I had noticed that Finnick wasn't wearing the shells I gave him. I don't know why he said he would but then didn't...it seemed a bit like a slap in the face. But then again I had no idea why he wasn't wearing them; for all I knew they wouldn't let him. But I guess I just thought, being my friend, he would wear them.

Oh well. Maybe Pearl is right.

I went down to the beach with my grass bowl and started collecting shells again. If I dug a little I could find the beautiful ones with pinks, greens, and blues in them. Each new shell I added to the bowl sang a different note when it clinked against the other shells. I even found an unbroken sand-dollar, which was a rare treat. Once it was all collected I sat in the sand, staring at the bowl. I don't know why but I started crying. And I couldn't stop once I started, even though it was completely irrational. After a while, Echo wandered out onto the beach with her bouncy chestnut ringlets and big sea-green eyes.

"What's wrong, Annie?" she asked in a tiny voice. I sighed and wiped my eyes, trying to cover up the evidence.

"Nothing, Echo, I'm fine."

She plopped down next to me and plunged her hand in the bowl of shells, pulling out a pretty pink and orange one.

"Liar."

She was such a sweet little kid, but I had no answer for her.

"I don't know what's wrong, sorry. Just a girl thing," I said with a laugh. Echo rolled her eyes dramatically and fell back into the sand.

"You make no sense sometimes," she said dreamily. The sun was delightfully warm and there was a little breeze; so beautiful and yet sort of lonely. Several fishing boats dotted the horizon, making the whole thing very picturesque. I shrugged and plucked a long blade of grass to string the shells onto.

Echo noticed and then got to work on her own string. Hers was rather amateur, but I'm sure it would get better in time. I used to go to the beach and make crowns and necklaces for our mother all the time, now Echo and I would come here and make them for Pearl. The Exquisite Pearl Cresta, who took over for the family at age seventeen, stole the hearts of all the young men, and won the hand of Stephen Glass-the handsome, successful, kind fisherman from the neighboring village. For the wedding, Echo and I were planning to string hundreds of strings of shells and drape them all over the ceremony spot. It was going to be beautiful.

The sun was setting and Pearl came out to the beach, holding Stephen's hand. She was wearing a light, breezy dress of sea-foam green. So lovely.

"Are those for me?" she asked with a charming smile. We nodded and she bent down so we could put one around her neck and one on her head like a crown.

"You're Majesty," Stephen declared cordially, making a show of kissing her hand. She batted her eyelashes and pretended to swoon, returning the favor with a light kiss on the cheek. Sometimes she really seemed happy with Stephen, like our parents were back before the accident. I watched them with dreamy interest; how the sun bounced off Pearl's long wavy hair and illuminated her blue eyes like they were made of glass; how Stephen's face would light up whenever she smiled at him. I wanted, more than anything, to look like her. To laugh like her. Because she was a spitting image of our mother, and what in the world could be more beautiful?

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

"You're not coming home."

I stared hopelessly at my father and mother, my hands out pleadingly. "Help me," I begged.

They seemed a hundred feet tall and covered in shadows. They shook their heads and scowled.

"Please?"

"We don't want you home, Finnick," my mother said flatly. A wave hit me from behind and sent me whirling into breathless darkness. I tried to swim out of the current, but it was too strong. I stopped resisting and smashed up against something solid and hard. I was out of the water, stranded on a massive bolder. The storm was raging all around me and the sky was black with clouds, streaked with lightning. Waves were slamming against my back, rolling in over and over again. I clung to the rock for dear life, trying to blink the sea water from my eyes. I looked up and saw Annie standing on top the rock, completely steadfast and calm. A string of seashells was wound around her wrist.

I reached up my hand to her, though she wasn't looking at me. She was staring ahead, over the waves into something I couldn't see. I needed her to see my hand, to help me, because I was slipping.

"Annie-"

Too late. The current pulled me back under, robbing me of all light and air. And just when I thought it was over, I was washed up on shore. The string of shells had wound itself around my wrist and was pulling me up the beach. It was so cold...

I woke up with icy rain stinging my eyes. For one heart-stopping moment I forgot where I was and rolled off the ledge.

Lucky I was so good at knots.

Seeing the ground hundreds of feet below me caused my entire stomach to drop to my feet and a sheen of sweat to break out on my hands and forehead. Carefully I pulled myself back onto the ledge and tried to calm my heart.

You're okay Finnick, you're not dead. You're alive. It's okay.

I was on my hands and knees, just waiting to relax. When my pulse started to return to some degree of normalcy, I took out the containers and let them fill up with the cold rain water.

I could see above me that if I got over this steep part of the cliff than the rest of the climb was easier and the rock formations provided for more protection. I decided that would be my next course of action. My muscles were still strong; it would be an easy enough climb, even if the rocks were wet.

I flung the hook up, catching it on something I couldn't see. To be safe I yanked and jostled the rope, and when it didn't come free, I started to climb. It was clear after a few minutes why they provided me with gloves; without them my hands would be a raw, blistering mess.

The scariest part was when I was practically dangling upside-down, my arms and legs burning with the strain and shaking with fear. I did not want to fall.

Don't look down, Fin.

Oh who am I kidding? Look down.

I did, and wished I hadn't. I must have been a thousand feet up or so.

You're okay, relax. You're fine.

I tackled the rest of the distance shakily, trying my hardest only to look up. But the pouring rain made it so hard to keep my eyes up. Finally I made it to flat ground and nearly kissed it. I dislodged my hook and put it back in my backpack, then drank some of the water I collected in the containers. My muscles were pulsing with the intense exercise and in a way it was invigorating.

What is all this rain about, anyway?

I looked and found I could see the entire arena, half of it coated in steaming black rock. The remainder of the trees sat like a patch of green hair on an otherwise scarred and ugly head. The whole scene was rather pathetic and destitute looking. The air still had that putrid sulfur smell to it.

And then the rain stopped and the clouds wiped away at an unnatural speed. Of course, everything was controlled by the gamemakers.

I wonder if this is a volcano too, that I'm standing on?

No, it couldn't be. The gamemakers would want to provide a safe place for the tributes to go or else they'd all be wiped out in lava and the whole thing would be extremely boring for the viewers back home.

The sky was then painted gray with thin, gloomy clouds. I sighed and sat against a rock, when I smelled something off. Like smoke, only not the toxic sulfury stuff from the volcano but smoke from a campfire. It was above me, from what I could tell. Carefully and quietly I packed up my things and hiked to the source of the smoke. Maybe I could push them off the cliff before they even knew what hit them?

I came up behind to jagged rock formations, the smoke leaking from just beyond them. I slowly peered around the side and my jaw fell open in shock.

"Marina?"

A boney figure was sitting against a rock with her knees bent up to her chin, poking a pathetic little fire made of dry roots and scraps of fabric. Her blonde hair looked thin and her skin was ashy and pale. Bones stuck out from her spine, neck, shoulders, and elbows; like blades trying to push through the inside of her skin. If I didn't know better I would say she was a ghost.

Slowly, with no emotion, the girl turned her gaunt face towards me, and rested her cheek back on her knees as if her neck wasn't strong enough to support her head for that long. Her eyes were looking out at me through black and blue sockets and her cheekbones were all but hollowed out. With some struggle, she opened her mouth and said in a dry, whisper of a voice;

"I told you they always choose a favorite."