CHAPTER TWENTY THREE;
the feast

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( warning: graphic gore/injury detail, violence )

     There are moments in the arena where Vesper is reminded that they're all like goldfish in a bowl; magnified, to be observed and pointed at. Those moments never fail to unnerve her, which is exactly what happens when she gets the most absurd wake-up call of all — the booming voice of Claudius Templesmith.

"Attention all tributes," the omniscient tone says, tinny and unnerving. "Commencing at sunrise, there will be a feast held at the Cornucopia."

     Vesper's attention is piqued immediately. She hoists herself up onto her elbows, craning her neck up through the darkness to cling onto every word.

     "For those of you left, your dwindling resources will be available to restock, should you choose to attend... and overcome the obstacles. Good luck."

The feast. Vesper had completely forgotten about this factor of the Hunger Games, one so crucial to every year. Historically, whenever competition gets stale in the arena and viewers begin to grow bored, the Gamemakers use the feast to induce another Bloodbath. It brings remaining tributes together with the promise of precious resources, at the cost of an inevitable showdown with one other that always ends in carnage — in fact, numerous times the feast has been the last climax of a Hunger Games as the victor emerges.

In other words, anything could happen today.

     "Icarus? Icarus, wake up," she whispers. The boy stirs rather quickly, perhaps already awake. "Did you hear that?"

     "I did," he says grimly.

Vesper's tongue scales the roof of her mouth, wincing at how bone dry it feels. They need water, desperately — she has no idea what has happened to the sponsors. A change of socks and boots would also be desired, among the obvious other things like food, medicine, weapons.

     "We have to go, don't we?" Icarus asks the rhetorical question.

     A beat passes. "Yeah. We really need whatever's in those packs."

Dawn is going to break over the arena soon, spilling the contents of the sun across the swamp with the promise of carnage. Vesper can't remember the last time they ventured near the Cornucopia — with her foggy brain, the arena's geography is starting to meld into one big muddy-greenish blur. But if they want to get there in good time, they should start making the journey soon. The swamp water will already weigh them down enough as it is, let alone with their already lethargic spirits.

     Snapping into gear, Icarus starts sharpening his arrowheads whilst Vesper starts hunting around for frogs. It is only after a few minutes that she stops.

"Are you even hungry?" she asks. The boy shakes his head, and she shrugs. "Yeah. Me neither."

Quite honestly, she thinks she could be sick. But that is the last thing either of them needs right now, wanting to retain every drop of hydration in their bodies. The thought of ingesting frogs one more goddamn time in this place isn't the only thing that makes her stomach churn — she also finds herself wondering, reluctantly, where the other tributes are right now. Who is plotting their journey to the Cornucopia as they speak? Who is prepared to bring down anyone and anything who stands in their way?

Well, Vesper knows the answer to that question: Boaz.

She pushes back some strands of hair sticking to her forehead, finally putting her bandana to some good use. Icarus's arrows rattle in his sheath as he stands, knuckles tightening around his bow with a solemn expression. Vesper can only mirror it herself, feeling comfort at the weight of her sword in its own sheath.

     "Alright, so where are we headed?" Icarus asks. A slither of sunrise breaks through the trees, suddenly lighting up the tension in his face.

     Vesper turns slowly around in a circle, trying not to appear as frustrated as she feels. Everything looks exactly the same. She has no idea how Emrys Hertz did it a few years ago — the little twelve year-old, aided with a compass as a sponsor gift, had charted the arena all by himself and gained a massive vantage point when it came to events that befell him in his Hunger Games. A twelve year-old boy did that, and yet here she is spinning like a compass needle without its True North.

Perhaps sensing her frustration, Icarus quietly suggests, "How about we try getting to shallower water? It wasn't as deep near the Cornucopia... do you remember that?"

Vesper nods slowly, recalling this. "Yeah... yeah, you're right. Shallow water. Good idea."

The boy nods again, in polite confirmation, and a silence bloats between them.

"Well... are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Swallowing thickly, Vesper gestures for Icarus to take the lead, although she only trails a couple of steps behind him — she dares not let the boy out of her sight. Not now, not when they have come so far. It preys on her as they advance through the swamp water and retrace their steps. Some places feel familiar — one bit of raised land reminds her of the night they arrived there with Levin, Icarus taking rest in the hammock while they treated mosquito bites and poison ivy rashes. It feels so long ago now. Where is that hammock now? Vesper figures it must have gotten lost along the way, perhaps in the ambush of gator mutts.

     Similarly, retreading their footsteps on the way back to the Cornucopia almost feels wrong. The last time they were there, Telle had died; nothing Vesper could have done in that moment to save her.

     Being realistic, but also seized with an intense doom she never usually gives in to, she fears for what might unfold today. It would feel too good to be true if both of them emerged from this feast. She knows that if anyone gets left behind, it must be her. Vesper cannot accept anything else. Still, in spite of her faithlessness, she acts on Irma's advice — "Have faith" — and prays to some invisible forces of the universe that maybe today isn't her day of sacrifice.

     Please, let me have this one thing.

     The closer they get to the Cornucopia, the sun rises and beats down harder on them, and the swamp water inches lower and lower down their bodies. It is a game of stopping-and-starting for breaks, in which they never know whether they want to leave quickly or make those quiet moments last.

After hours of trekking, it must be midday by the time the duo first spot the glint of metal through the trees — the sun and heat at its peak. Something about seeing the Cornucopia again, much to Vesper's surprise, calms her... as if it refocuses her attention onto the task at hand. For days she has felt aimless, unable to keep herself busy, but here she can at least wake herself up and play the game once again. Vesper signals to Icarus that they should hide, and he quietly obeys. The two of them crouch behind some foliage and peer through the cracks to survey the scene.

In the mouth of the Cornucopia sits the bounty, a numbered bag for each remaining tribute — a pair of 2's and 6's, along with singular bags for 3, 4 and 7. Vesper notices that 10 is missing and wonders if Talon snagged his pack first. In honesty, she is relieved, because a run-in with someone of his brute strength would be a challenge to say the least.

"Wait, is that...?" Icarus whispers in awe.

Vesper follows his line of sight and realises, yes, it is. Huxley, their long-lost-almost-ally from District Three is approaching the wide radius of the Cornucopia's grounds. He looks alarmingly skinny and malnourished, his hollow eyes and cheekbones visible even from this distance. A baton is held limply in his hand, a strange weapon of choice for someone of his stature. Was he alone all this time? Either way, she has to say she is genuinely impressed he has made it this far. Then again, if his intelligence was anything of Telle's calibre, it was bound to keep him going for a while.

     Huxley is about to take a step before he stops abruptly, his eyes fixed on something in the ground. The pair watch his gaze scan the rest of the puddle-ridden earth with a strained expression — they have no clue what he's seen that alarms him so much. Still, they watch him as he gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing uncomfortably in his throat. The teen begins hopping around the threat invisible to them, stealing longing glances at the pack emblazoned with 3, as if it should motivate him. Even though she doesn't know whatever he is hopping over, Vesper still finds she releases a relieved breath when he makes it to the Cornucopia. Huxley himself also lets his shoulders drop as he tip-toes cautiously to the table — the bounty is right there. He unfastens the bag and checks it contents, a glint of hope flashing across his features, before he zips it back up again...

That's his fatal slip-up.

With his back to the Cornucopia, he doesn't have time to notice Fern prowling from behind. He turns around when the butt of the spear is already ramming his temple, knocking him down on his back. The table obscures everything else, but Vesper and Icarus barely hear a cry or protest from him as the District Seven girl finishes the job. His cannon fires. Fern checks the coast is clear, hooks both the packs for 3 and 7 over her shoulder, and then snags a small vial from the table that Vesper only notices just now. It gleams against the sunlight but only one stands remaining — either someone has hogged the supply, or the Gamemakers have only provided enough mystery-liquids for a handful of tributes. Someone won't be getting lucky.

     "Well, that's Huxley gone..." Vesper mumbles, trying to sound matter-of-fact, but it is tainted with sadness. Even if she didn't know Huxley well, he was still one of the people in the arena they were almost allied with. It is a loss all the same.

     Turning to the boy next to her, she expects him to reflect similar remorse — but she is instead met with the most numbed expression she has ever seen Icarus wear. As he has been since they hid here, his focus remains only on the aim of his arrow, already loaded in the bow and prepared to take flight any given moment. He seems so matured. It suddenly hits Vesper then, after what had only been inklings of the thought before — Icarus will never be the same. If he gets out of this arena, the little boy who wept on Reaping Day is gone. He has seen too much. The realisation seizes her with an acute wave of sadness, and perhaps partial guilt over what might come of him in the future.

But before she can dwell too much, Icarus nods to the Cornucopia. "Do you think the coast is clear?" he asks.

Vesper checks, looking all the directions she can. There certainly isn't anyone nearby. As undesirable as being caught out in the open would be, she knows they have no other choice now.

"Let's go," she says.

Crouched with their weapons in hand, Vesper and Icarus venture into the No Man's Land of the Cornucopia. It all comes back to her — the skeletal arms of the bare trees like daggers surrounding the centre, the giant puddles of murky water dotted around the earth. It is only as they approach one of the puddles that a new sound makes their blood run cold... at last, it makes sense why Huxley was being so careful.

Each puddle is filled to the brim with snakes.

Writhing and hissing, their scales appear murky like the water until a spot of sunlight catches them — then they are beacons of warning. Venomous? Better to assume yes, than to be caught unlucky. Vesper swallows thickly, staring down one of the snakes as it seems threatened by them.

"What do we do?" asks Icarus.

"Move very slowly... no sudden movements... just get to the middle of the Cornucopia."

The snakes seem to be uninterested in leaving the waters, which gives them an advantage... as long as they don't misstep. They fare well for the first few paces, treading lightly on their toes around the snakes. Any moment, Vesper expects one to lunge for them, but they never do. They manage to get nearer by approaching from the back of the Cornucopia, where the least clusters of snakes seem to be.

At one point, Icarus wobbles on one leg as he hops over a puddle, and Vesper's arm lurches out to stabilise him again.

"Thanks," he breathes in relief.

She nods, her fingers still tight around his forearm, getting him stable on his own two feet.

That's when a searing pain slices through her arm — an invisible blade whizzing past her, nagging her skin just below her shoulder and opening it into a gash. Vesper cries and retracts her hand, the other free one clamping over the open wound. It only takes a moment to put two and two together; the arrow buried in the ground only a few steps away says it all. Surely enough, she turns around to see the District Two tributes on their tails — Hero reacting to her shot, while Boaz's face ignites with fury.

"Go get our pack and avoid the snakes," Vesper grabs Icarus by the shoulders. "I'll hold them off for you."

"But what about you?!" Icarus asks desperately.

"I'll be fine, just GO!"

With gritted teeth, Vesper pulls her sword from her sheath, stepping backwards so the battlefield is snake-free enough — cast in the shadow of the Cornucopia she waits for him. Boaz charges like a bull seeing red, having lost his last straw. Mid-run he wields his sword and screams a warrior's cry as he takes a swing at his approaching target. Vesper ducks out of his path, watching him collide with the metal outer walls of the Cornucopia.

Boaz pants wildly for a few moments as Vesper bounces on her heels, waiting for him to strike again. Come on, she wants to taunt him. Give me what you've got. He has belittled her and Icarus enough — they will end this now. Boaz is certainly for the idea, glaring daggers at her before he thrusts forward with another blow. All his years of Career training seem to have left him. So she steps into it, her instincts screaming at her not to, but blocks him again with her sword.

Still agitated, but slowly remembering his common sense, Boaz tosses his head to the side and shifts a lock of sweat-drenched hair. "You play hard to get, don't you?" he remarks with spiteful smugness.

Grimacing in disgust, Vesper ducks away from his sword. And then they're off. The clatter of their blades fighting shatters the air — up, down, left, right. The quick blows of swords are all she can focus on. Blocking an attack here, trying to deliver a blow there. But Boaz isn't stupid — when he isn't blinded with rage, he should be especially feared in a fight. His blade just scrapes Vesper's side, then again nipping the skin of her collarbone. Neither too deep, but enough to hurt like hell.

But it isn't over yet. Blood pounding, ears roaring, breath ragged. Vesper manages to slash open his thigh, Boaz choking out an infuriated cry.

"Boaz, just give it up!" they both hear Hero cry in the distance, wielding 2's packs. "We need to get out of here!"

The Career boy huffs wildly through his teeth, hissing like he might start burning in smoke.

"Boaz, it's over!"

But he won't listen. Up, down, left, right go their swords. An attack blocked here, a blow delivered there — both of them as nimble as the other to avoid the worst damage. The intensity of the fight starts to wear them down. Vesper knows her breathing patterns are all over the place, and her senses are ringing alarm bells over the putrid stench of blood and sweat. Boaz huffs and puffs with a wild stare. Behind them, Hero has given up and evacuated the Cornucopia, knowing he is a lost cause — surprisingly not taking the kill for herself.

Meanwhile, Vesper knows they have to end this soon. Now.

And she sees the golden opportunity in Boaz's next move. Moving with her instincts, she catches his sword at its hilt and brings it round in an arch. All the way down to the ground she forces it; the handle slips from Boaz's sweaty grip and she kicks it away. He is disarmed, and she could deliver the kill right now, her blade ready to go under his chin.

     But she hesitates. And she doesn't know why. Only for a beat, but it is a beat too long.

     His boot kicks Vesper hard in the shin and she winces — and with it makes the fatal mistake of lowering her sword. Inviting him to attack, Boaz pounces and tightens his arms around her torso, forcing her back to the Cornucopia's wall. The impact when her back hits the metal sends a shockwave of pain shuddering through her body, her sword slipping from her limp hand. He has her winded for a moment, and in that strange calm he takes the time to think. Vesper struggles furiously in his vice-like grip. What the hell is he waiting for?

     "You've lost, Sixer," he pants, his breath hot in her face. "Just like your little friend will be when I'm done with you."

     "Over my dead body," Vesper manages to hiss back.

     Boaz's face twists in some strange warping of satisfaction. "Finally. Something we agree on."

He throws her body like a rag doll, Vesper's back throbbing even more when it hits the ground. Her head lulls to the side and she sees it — her sword. Her sword. Only a stone's throw away. But just as she tries to reach out to get it, Boaz is hunched over her and pinning her to the ground with all his body weight. That's when his hands close around her throat and start squeezing. Vesper struggles at first, writhing and convulsing and clawing at his hands. She even tries digging her fingernails into his skin.

Then she really panics — she can't breathe, she can't breathe, she can't breathe.

Vesper realises she could die right now.

Icarus, her mind chants to her.

     But there is also pain, pain everywhere. Her eyes bulge with desperation for air, only being met with Boaz's face — the last face she might ever see — before her vision starts blackening at the edges. No, she tries telling herself, you need to stay awake. Fight back. She can't. She can't do it.

Icarus, she reminds herself again in a panic.

He will be alright, another, more melancholy part of her replies. The part already giving up. He can take care of himself.

Vesper is ready to listen to that voice, to watch Boaz's face shrink to a pinpoint as she loses consciousness — but his sudden scream rings in her ears. His hands disappear from her throat and she gasps, coughing and spluttering. It takes her a second to get onto all fours. She looks to and fro the two figures. Boaz is doubled over in agony, distracted arrowhead lodged in his shoulder. And in the distance is her saviour — Icarus Brunel.

"Vesper, NOW!" Icarus cries out.

She understands immediately. Her mind is scattered, her body aching and bleeding all over, but Vesper knows she can at least try. She pulls her body weight over to her sword, gripping the handle again. Behind her she hears Boaz stumbling to his feet — but she is prepared this time. In one sweeping motion, Vesper clenching her eyes shut halfway through, she waits for the blade to make contact.

When she feels skin-to-metal, she dares not look down.

     Hearing the slump of Boaz's body on the ground, Vesper breathes at last, clinging onto the Cornucopia so she doesn't pass out. Her ears ring wildly like static in her skull — she tries blinking away the phosphenes flashing in her recovering vision, because it only makes her dizzier. Icarus's muffled voice works its way into her head, and eventually his worried features into her line of sight. She feels him gently touching her, making sure she is okay, then opening his mouth to form the words: "WE HAVE TO GO"

Nodding blindly, Vesper stoops to pick up her sword, and lets Icarus drag her away from the Cornucopia. Both of them limp and meander between snake pits until they get to the other side. Just before they disappear into the trees, Vesper looks over her shoulder to see if Boaz is coming.

The short answer is no. His body limp in the grass, face turned away from her, Boaz shows no sign of chasing after them. But Vesper refuses to believe it until the sound comes — a cannon in the sky, splitting open her hearing again and flooding her with grim relief. Knowing they are safe, at least from him, Vesper turns and follows Icarus into the swamp once more.

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A/N;

DAMN this chapter was intense to write, and i should imagine to read too. how is everyone doing? i'm just asking because i know, as the one writing these, i have to summon a lot of mental strength to get into these chapters. i'm very aware that the content is pretty heavy, but it's this awkward point in the story where it is difficult to include any comic relief...

but hey, at least we don't have to worry about boaz anymore!

do we still have to worry for our favourite characters though? absolutely.

i don't know how quickly some of the next chapters will come up. on the one hand, i desperately want to finish writing iron soon, i've been at it for 2 years now. but some of the next stuff is also pretty heavy, so it might take me a while to get in the mood too. so we shall see... all i can warn you of is, without spoiling anything, that you should REALLY buckle yourselves in for the following chapters because they are going to be A LOT. i'm very sorry in advance... 😬

as always, thank you for reading, and hope you have a lovely day/evening.

[ published: 29th september, 2022 ]

— Imogen