CHAPTER SIXTEEN;
benefit of the doubt

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     Levin has led the pair to another swathe of tall bamboo, except this time its colour is a bright green. With his sword, sunlight glinting off the blade, he hacks into the middle of it. Vesper and Icarus stand watching him, exchanging confused but equally fatigued glances — their thirst has been getting the better of them since they slowed down. For a split second, Vesper felt her consciousness swimming on the raft, and she had to lean on her paddle to stop herself careening overboard until the feeling subsided.

"Get ready..." he murmurs, nodding to the crevice he is opening bit by bit.

Before Vesper can ask for what, a spout of water trickles from the hole — crystal clear. The sunlight glimmers across the surface, and she finds herself marvelling at how she hasn't seen anything glimmer since the interviews. Instantaneously Icarus lunges for it, cupping his hands and gathering the immaculately pristine water, taking greedy sips from his palms. She soon follows, positioning her mouth underneath the Levin-made tap. The moment the liquid hits her tongue, her limbs go weak with relief. She can't remember the last time she saw water this clear, let alone tasted it.

     She reaches for one of their old flasks and promptly empties it. Out of it pours muddy, algae-infested water with a couple of bugs for the finishing touch.

     "You've been drinking that?" Levin utters in complete horror, eyes widened as Icarus empties the other filthy flask.

     "No," says Vesper, "but if we'd left this water any longer, we might have been desperate."

     A pang of doubt strikes her.

     "This bamboo water is okay to drink, right?"

     "Well, I'm not dead yet, so..." the District Four boy shrugs. It feels too easy to trust Levin sometimes, but there is just an air of complete and utter honesty about him, making you feel more stupid the more you try to be sceptical about him.

     Though her guard remains up, Vesper knows they have to take advantage of this alliance. Once hydrated, the pair empty their bags of their supplies to show Levin — what remains from their bag is the plastic sheets, some spare bits of rope and an empty packet filled with stray cracker crumbs. Levin shares his bounty with them too, which is surprisingly less than she had imagined. Maybe she just thought Careers would be showered with sponsor gifts right now.

     "Not all of this is mine," he adds, emptying his bag. "I took some of Merona's stuff after she died."

     With combined supplies, he has another pack of crackers, spare pairs of socks, a water flask and a huge plastic sheet with no clear purpose. He rolls out the sheet to show it is at least the full length of Vesper's body. At the top and bottom are small gaps. Only by noticing her rope nearby, she makes a connection.

     "I think it might be a hammock," says Vesper. "If we use this rope, maybe we could find a sturdy tree to tie it to. Then we wouldn't have to sleep on the ground."

     "Some of us wouldn't, anyway..." Levin replies quietly.

     They begin to share other wisdoms too. Levin recounts how, in the space of the arena where he was earlier, the climate and land type seemed to differ. Where their current location is hotter and stickier, apparently his corner of the arena was cooler and muddier, but overall had more dry land (at least dry in comparison). The Gamemakers must be having fun, turning dials and coding terrains to their cold heart's desires. On the basis that the swamp was shallower where Levin came from, the trio decide they should start moving that way, in order to prevent risk of gangrene or trench foot.

     The raft journey is mostly silent, Vesper rowing up front with occasional glances over her shoulder at Levin and Icarus. Having her back turned to them like this puts her on edge. She catches glimpses of the two boys murmuring to each other, in what seems like a friendly conversation. Levin being this trustworthy seems too good to be true — she has seen it in previous years. Tributes on television look like they are good friends, but the moment the other becomes a liability, the alliance is soured by backstabbing in the blink of an eye.

     That was Irma's mistake, she thinks. During her Hunger Games, Irma scaled the arena with a considerably large group of allies — they were about six in total, which is an achievement considering only one of them was a Career. Usually non-Career tributes can never band together in more than groups of two or three. But Vesper remembers how quickly it took a dark turn. Gradually they dropped by flies, one by one, until they were all gone. One of the allies tried to stab them all in the back — both figuratively and literally — and Irma's face appeared so... wounded. Like it was a personal betrayal.

     Vesper doesn't know how Irma could have ever felt that close to any of them, but she vows to herself she will not let herself get too close. Still, they could have worse allies than Levin, and she is overthinking way more than she ever has in her life. Vesper prefers not to dwell too much, so that is exactly what she won't do — Levin will simply have to be given the benefit of the doubt.

That isn't the only thing she has her eyes on though. Every now and then, the sword in Levin's sheath slips into her periphery. She keeps replaying the frenzied sprint to the Cornucopia, the sword only a few more bold strides from her, and she might have had it if it weren't for Levin. Her machete is fine, but she never felt more secure in training than with a sword in her hand.

And now it is so close, yet so far...

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     They arrive at a clearing with ground elevated above the swamp water, and drag the raft with them. As usual, Vesper anchors the raft to a nearby tree by herself, in case Levin or any other tribute has any ideas. She is hoping she will be able to set up this hammock, allowing for them to sleep above the damp. It seems like an even better suggestion once Icarus crouches to inspect some plants that scale the ground. Once assessing them, he stands up and points down at it.

     "That looks like poison ivy," Icarus says, with an ounce of pride. "I remember Telle teaching me 'bout the plants..."

     "An even better reason for sleeping above ground then," Vesper justifies. "But the hammock won't fit all of us. Whoever is left over can sleep on the ground. We could cover it with sticks so it's less damp?"

     "Yeah, yeah, good idea."

     Levin has gone very quiet, the colour drained slightly from his face. As they start looking for sticks and breaking stray branches off trees, Vesper notices his hand slip under his shirt and scratch uncomfortably at his abdomen. She did spot him doing it on the raft journey, but now he seems consciously aware of doing it, and much more incessantly.

     At one point, sticks bundled in his arms, he anxiously lingers around Icarus. "So, you said you knew plants, huh?"

     "I guess so. My... my friend, Telle, the girl from Three, she taught me everything I know."

     "So is poison ivy... you know, lethal?"

     "Nah, I don't think so. The worst it should give you is a nasty rash and maybe a fever." Then Icarus stops, staring into the distance thoughtfully. "But then again... this is the Hunger Games. The Gamemakers could just go and mess with nature if they wanted to."

     Levin chuckles weakly. "Reassuring. Thanks."

     "Please don't tell me you slept on a whole bed of poison ivy," Vesper raises an eyebrow at him.

     "Look, I get it, I'm an idiot. We were all shaken up after that Bloodbath, we weren't... paying attention." Sighing and running his fingers quickly through his hair, Levin nods towards Icarus. "But if Icarus says it isn't lethal, then what does a little itch matter, right?"

     While the sun sinks in the horizon, buried somewhere behind the thick cypress trees, the trio work on hanging up their hammock. They manage to thread the remaining rope through the hammock holes, securing them around a tree each. Icarus is the one to test the hammock first — one foot in first, then his back, before tucking his other foot in too.

     "Ohhh yeah..." Icarus sighs, eyelids fluttering shut. "This is good. This is really good."

     "Don't get too comfortable," Vesper prods him through the hammock. "We'll have to take it with us if we want to keep moving."

     "I'll sleep on the floor and keep watch tonight," Levin volunteers, already sitting cross-legged next to his things on the ground, but not before he reaches to scratch his abdomen again. "I think this itch is probably going to keep me up all night, anyway."

     Once they manage to get a fire going, they mix their meal between some cooked frog and some of Levin's crackers, with careful sips of water washing it down. Vesper already feels much better afterwards — it is the closest thing to a proper meal she and Icarus have had ever since entering the arena. It still feels strange eating with Levin here, since she was previously accustomed to only having to worry about Icarus. Now, there is another face lit up by the dim flames, pale and slightly clammy but still recognisably Levin in all his chipper attitude.

They eat mostly in silence, until a soft tinkling noise laces the air. Vesper perks up, as do the other two, turning to search for the source. Surely enough, not one but two silver parachutes are drifting their way, glinting in the moonlight dappled through the trees. They split directions slightly, one gliding towards Vesper and Icarus while the other lands in Levin's lap. She had never considered how the parachutes could somehow find their way to the right tribute — it is a technological feat in itself.

     Vesper unscrews the lid of the capsule attached, internally crossing her fingers for something useful. Inside is a small, cylindrical tub with a note attached. When she flattens out the strip of paper, it reads:

To soothe the itching. Use sparingly. — I.

"Irma, you angel..." Icarus grins and presses a kiss to the cold metal of the capsule, as Vesper quickly unscrews the ointment and takes a small bit onto her fingertip. The moment she presses it to one of her mosquito bites, she can't help but release a sigh of relief. It is as if someone injected a soothing sensation into her insatiable itch, the urge to scratch at them diminishing instantly. For once, Vesper has to praise the Capitol for being so ahead with their medical technology... if only they could spare some for the rest of Panem.

"What did you get?" Icarus asks Levin, who is unravelling another large sheet of sorts.

"Another hammock?" Vesper offers.

"No, not a hammock..." Levin reaches over to hand her the note he got, and she reads it to herself:

Might want to use this for shelter if it rains. — F.

"So it's a tarp?"

"Yep. That's the first thing Finnick has ever sent me."

"Really?" Vesper retorts. "I thought he would have been showering you with gifts. You probably have more than enough sponsors to fund them."

"Well, I'm flattered, but it's not that simple. I would think you have to be tactical about this sort of stuff. Don't want to blow all the sponsors in the first half of the Games, do you?"

Vesper had never considered that before, but Levin has a point. Her heart sinks for a moment — what if Irma is giving them too much too soon? Then she brushes off that fear. Irma has been doing this for years, she assures herself firmly. She will look after us... because no one else is going to.

Levin relaxes to lean his back on a tree but then winces, eyebrows knitting together, and his hand slips under his shirt once more to scratch at his abdomen. His discomfort only seems to be growing more intense. Vesper glances down at their ointment, then back at him. It looks like he needs this more than they do.

     After a moment's hesitation, she tosses it through the air and he catches it with both hands. "Leave some for us," she instructs him. He nods, seemingly with gratitude, then rolls up the bottom of his shirt. Icarus gasps audibly and his fist flies up to his lips in shock. Even Vesper feels her eyes widen in surprise.

     Right across his abdomen is a wide, angry-looking rash. It stretches in a huge pinkish-red cluster all the way around his abdomen, even more concentrated on his lower back.

     "A little rash?" Vesper echoes his words from earlier, unable to look away from his rash, but equally put off.

     "Good thing it isn't deadly... hopefully..." Levin traces his fingertip around the rim of the tub, as if he is being careful not to hog the ointment, before gingerly applying it to blotches of his rash. The minute it makes contact with his skin, he can't help groaning at the sensation either.

     "How much poison ivy did you sleep in?"

     "A lot, apparently," he admits sheepishly. "But I wonder, with Merona... she didn't have breathing problems until after our first night. I think she had a rash too. Maybe she reacted differently somehow."

     "You think she was allergic?" Icarus queries.

     Levin shrugs. "Maybe. But whatever it was, I'm not feeling the same way. And let's hope I never do."

     The Capitol fanfare signals the end of the day, but has no accompanying images to indicate deaths, just a jarring national anthem vibrating through their natural landscape. Once it has finished, Levin goes to hand back the ointment to Vesper, but she shakes her head.

     "Don't you still have mosquito bites too?" she asks him.

     "I can cope with them. It's this rash that is killing me." When she still doesn't accept, he physically forces the tub of ointment into her palm. "You saw what Irma wrote. Use it sparingly."

Struck by his genuineness, she slips the ointment into her backpack and props it up against the tree, using it as a pillow for herself. Icarus has made himself comfortable in the hammock, whilst she and Levin are occupying the ground.

"Are you keeping watch or am I?" Levin asks.

"I think I will," Vesper replies. She knows she should probably let him, seeing as she has barely had a proper night's sleep in the last few days, reluctant to let Icarus watch instead of her. The fear that she will wake up to him dead next to her is too great. And that fear has only become worse with an ally in their midst.

Remember, she tells herself, benefit of the doubt. So far, Levin has done nothing that should entirely concern her. Staring up into the foliage above her, Vesper can hear him rustling quietly as he makes himself comfortable to sleep.

"Don't roll into any poison ivy now," she teases him in a whisper.

"Says the girl with a flask full of muddy water," Levin shoots right back, also in a whisper.

"I wasn't going to drink it..."

"Mhmm. I think what you meant to say was, Thank you Levin, for saving us from contracting cholera."

"Just go to sleep, damn it!" she whispers more harshly now, but she can feel herself cracking a smile. Vesper hears it in his voice too as he exhales softly, shutting his eyes and slowing his breathing.

Sighing, she lets her head fall back onto her backpack and stares up again, her fingers entwined on her stomach. It gives Vesper deja vu of napping during their breaks at work — she half-expects to hear Kirk and the inexplicable joy he gets out of winding up Bolt, or Cheyenne's careful questions to her, or Axel rounding them all up with his leadership...

Instead, she only hears the guttural chorus of frogs, the hum of mosquitoes and the sound of her chest rising and falling with tired breaths.

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A/N;

i feel like this chapter was kind of mediocre, A) because it was meant to be a filler, and B) because i've been out of the writing groove since i last updated. i've been so busy with deadlines and revising in the first month or two of this year, i had the inspiration but simply could not find the time to sit down and write anything creatively, let alone for iron. so it is a huge relief to get back into this, although i am a bit rusty!

the next chapter should be a nice one for you guys 😊 not too much action, but hopefully some more character development, and i'm looking forward thoroughly to that.

also a little while back we hit 10K reads on this book?? WOWZA! thank you all SO much for reading this book, it means the world, and i am genuinely convinced that this is one of my proudest works overall. may vesper's journey continue...

thank you for reading and i hope you have a lovely day/evening! please leave a comment for feedback if you have the time.

[ published: 20th february, 2022 ]

— Imogen