liberty

LIBERTY SAT on the damp stone floor of the cave, hugging her handmade spear tightly against her chest. Her mind swirled with guilt and frustration. The thought of ambushing the tributes hiding deeper in the cave had been hers, and she hated herself for it. It was ruthless, cruel, and exactly what the Capitol wanted from her. She clenched her jaw, trying to shake the lingering image of her own suggestion. She wasn't supposed to think like this, wasn't supposed to become another pawn in their blood-soaked games.

Grayson, sitting a few feet away, skipped stones across the shallow water. He hadn't called her out directly, but the way he'd gently tugged her away from the idea had spoken volumes. He'd thought about it too; she could tell. But where Liberty's thoughts lingered on guilt, his had been rooted in practicality.

She was exhausted—her eyes hollow, her movements slower than usual. Grayson had seen the toll the arena was taking on her, and he'd made a decision for both of them: they weren't ready to fight those tributes. Not yet. He wasn't the type to feel guilty for pulling her back; he didn't carry the same weight she did. But in doing so, he'd unknowingly preserved a fragile piece of her humanity, a piece she hadn't realized she was clinging to.

When they finally made their way back to the sunlit hole they'd fallen through earlier, the tension between them was palpable. The sunlight trickled through the opening, illuminating the rocky chamber and creating patches of warmth on the cold, damp ground. Liberty sat down, still holding her spear as if it were the only solid thing keeping her grounded.

Grayson, meanwhile, crouched near the water's edge, picking up small stones and tossing them in rhythmic arcs across the surface. The plunking sounds echoed softly through the cave. The silence between them wasn't hostile, but it wasn't easy either. They both knew they needed rest, food, and, more than anything, a way to survive the next inevitable attack.

As Grayson flicked another stone into the water, his eye caught a glint from above. He straightened, squinting against the light streaming in. The sight of a silver parachute descending slowly through the opening made his heart skip a beat.

"Liberty," he called softly, rising to his feet.

She looked up, her tired eyes widening at the sight. The parachute drifted closer, its metallic sheen gleaming as it floated down between them. Grayson took a cautious step forward, but it landed nearer to Liberty. She reached out and gently grabbed it, untying the small knot with practised fingers.

Inside was a simple note: "To protect yourselves. - F."

Liberty's lips curved into a faint smile as she unfolded the silk, revealing two throwing knives. These weren't like the crude ones supplied in the arena or the oversized weapons from the training centre. These were familiar, crafted in the style of the knives they'd trained with back home in District 4—balanced, lightweight, and deadly.

She handed one to Grayson, who turned it over in his hands, his expression softening.

"Like the ones we used back home," she said, tossing hers lightly into the air and catching it with ease.

"Yeah," Grayson agreed, a rare grin spreading across his face. "I always did better with these. The arena ones are garbage." He pocketed the knife, the familiarity of the weapon giving him a small but much-needed sense of control.

Liberty tied the spear Grayson had crafted for her to her back. It was still useful, but with these knives, they had a much better chance of handling any threat, especially the tributes hiding deeper in the cave.

She turned to Grayson, ready to discuss their next steps, but before she could speak, a sharp pain exploded at the back of her head. Her vision blurred, the cave spinning around her. She staggered forward, barely able to process what had happened before darkness swallowed her.

Grayson caught her as she collapsed, his arms tightening around her limp form. He sighed, lowering her gently to the ground.

"You'll thank me later," he muttered, though he doubted it.

He set her down carefully, pulling her weapons away and placing them out of reach. He knew she wouldn't take this kindly when she woke up, but he wasn't about to watch her destroy herself by staying awake any longer. She needed sleep—real sleep—not the half-conscious state she'd been clinging to for days.

Sitting back against the cave wall, Grayson kept one hand on his newly acquired knife, the other resting on his lap as he watched over Liberty. He'd make sure nothing happened to her while she slept. She'd probably try to kill him when she woke up, but at least she'd be alive—and that was what mattered most.

Grayson sat in the stillness of the cave, his gaze flicking between Liberty's unconscious form and the shadows shifting along the cavern walls. The air was cool and damp, carrying the faint sound of water trickling somewhere in the distance. He couldn't shake the unease settling in his chest, but he pushed it down, focusing on keeping watch.

Liberty stirred in her sleep, her brow furrowing as though even in unconsciousness, she was wrestling with something. Grayson felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly overridden by his resolve. She needed this rest, whether she liked it or not. He'd seen what exhaustion could do in the arena—how it could make even the sharpest minds dull and the strongest bodies falter.

He glanced down at the knife Finnick had sent, turning it over in his hands. The weight of it felt good, familiar. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. He couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for the mentor who'd sent it. Whoever Finnick was to Liberty, he clearly cared enough to send them something practical and well-timed.

Grayson's thoughts drifted to their situation. The tributes deeper in the cave hadn't been an immediate threat, but that didn't mean they wouldn't be soon. He wasn't naïve; the peace they'd found here wouldn't last long. The Gamemakers would ensure that.

The distant howl of a mutt broke the quiet, echoing faintly through the tunnels. Grayson tensed, gripping his knife tightly. He scanned the shadows, straining to hear any other movement. The sound didn't come closer, but it was a grim reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond their fragile sanctuary.

He glanced back at Liberty. Her breathing had evened out, her face a little less strained. He wondered what she was dreaming about—if she was dreaming at all. Was it the peace of District 4? The ocean? Or was she reliving the horrors of the arena?

Grayson leaned back against the wall, his shoulders sagging slightly. His own memories of home were fleeting—fishing boats, salt on his skin, the laughter of his siblings. He hadn't allowed himself to think about them much since entering the arena. Dwelling on what he might never see again felt like a luxury he couldn't afford.

...

A soft groan pulled him from his thoughts. Liberty shifted again, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked a few times, disoriented, before her gaze snapped to Grayson.

"What... what happened?" she croaked, her voice hoarse from exhaustion and dehydration.

"You needed sleep," Grayson said simply, meeting her glare with a calm expression. "So I made sure you got some."

Her hand instinctively reached for her spear, only to find it missing. She sat up sharply, her eyes narrowing. "Grayson," she warned, her tone low and dangerous.

He held up his hands, the knife still in one of them. "Relax. Your spear's right over there," he said, nodding toward where he'd placed it against the wall. "I wasn't about to let you wake up swinging at me."

Liberty's anger simmered, but she stayed seated, rubbing the back of her head. "You hit me."

"You weren't going to rest otherwise," he replied, his tone unapologetic. "You were a walking corpse, Liberty. I wasn't about to let you get yourself killed because you were too stubborn to sleep."

She scowled but didn't argue further. Deep down, she knew he was right, even if she hated the way he'd gone about it. "How long was I out?"

"A couple of hours. Not as long as you needed, but enough to get you through the next stretch."

Liberty sighed, running a hand through her hair. She felt marginally better, though the back of her head still throbbed. "If you ever pull something like that again—"

"I know," Grayson interrupted, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You'll gut me. Got it."

She rolled her eyes, but the tension between them eased slightly. Reaching for her spear, she inspected it before sliding it back into its makeshift holster on her back.

"Anything happen while I was out?" she asked, scanning the cave.

"Just a mutt howl in the distance," Grayson replied, his expression turning serious. "Nothing close, but it's a reminder we're not safe here."

Liberty nodded, her mind already working. "We need to move soon. If those tributes deeper in the cave don't come for us, the mutts will."

Grayson agreed, pushing himself to his feet. "Then we'd better be ready."

Liberty stood as well, testing her balance. Her muscles ached, but the rest had helped. She adjusted her spear and knife, giving Grayson a curt nod.

"Let's find a way out of here," she said, determination hardening her voice.

Together, they began to make their way through the cave, their steps cautious and weapons ready. Neither of them spoke, but there was an unspoken understanding between them now—a fragile alliance born of necessity and survival.

As they moved deeper into the shadows, Liberty silently vowed to herself: that she would make it out of this arena. No matter what it took.

The cave seemed to stretch endlessly before them, its dark, twisting tunnels an unrelenting maze of shadows and uncertainty. Liberty and Grayson moved cautiously, each step echoing softly against the damp stone walls. The air grew colder the deeper they ventured, its icy grip settling into their bones. Moisture dripped from the jagged ceiling above, and the faint scuttle of unseen creatures added to the oppressive tension. Every sound, no matter how small, made them grip their weapons tighter, their senses sharp with survival instincts.

Liberty took the lead, her spear held firmly in both hands. The weapon felt heavier than usual as if carrying the weight of her doubts and fears. Behind her, she felt Grayson's steady presence. Though she didn't fully trust him—trust was a rare luxury in the arena—he had proven himself useful. For now, that tenuous alliance was enough.

The narrow tunnel began to widen, and the oppressive darkness gave way to a faint glow. A cavern opened before them, its expanse illuminated by a weak shaft of sunlight that pierced through cracks in the rock above. Liberty halted abruptly, her sharp gaze sweeping the area for any signs of danger. Pools of water dotted the uneven floor, their still surfaces reflecting the pale light. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like jagged teeth, casting distorted shadows that danced ominously.

Grayson stepped up beside her, his knife glinting faintly in the light. His voice was barely a whisper. "It's quiet."

Liberty's eyes narrowed as she crouched low, gesturing for Grayson to do the same. "Too quiet," she murmured.

They moved into the cavern with deliberate caution, each step measured. The air felt heavier here, the tension almost suffocating. Liberty's sharp eyes caught a faint trail of disturbed dirt leading toward one of the pools. She froze, raising her hand to signal Grayson to stop.

"Someone's been here," she whispered, pointing toward the tracks.

Grayson's brow furrowed as he followed her gaze. "How recent?"

"Hard to say. Could be those tributes we heard earlier. Or someone else entirely."

Their eyes met, an unspoken debate flickering between them: investigate further or retreat?

Before they could decide, a sharp noise shattered the silence—a faint scraping sound, metal against stone. Liberty's heart lurched as her grip on the spear tightened. Grayson immediately raised his knife, his eyes darting through the shadows in search of the source.

The sound grew louder and closer. A figure emerged from a dark tunnel on the far side of the cavern. Liberty's pulse quickened as recognition dawned.

Flo. One of the Careers.

She was alone, but Liberty knew better than to relax. Flo's confident stride and mocking grin suggested she was anything but vulnerable. If she was here, the others couldn't be far behind.

"Well, well," Flo's voice echoed, laced with derision. "Look what we have here. The District Four rejects."

Liberty's jaw clenched at the insult, but she refused to take the bait. She kept her spear raised, her stance steady and poised. Grayson moved closer to her side, his expression unreadable, his body tense.

Flo twirled a dagger lazily in her hand, her smirk widening. "Hiding out in the caves, are we? Smart. But not smart enough. You're not the only ones who know how to survive."

Liberty's voice was calm, though her eyes burned with intensity. "What do you want, Flo?"

Flo tilted her head, feigning thought. "What do I want? Oh, nothing much. Just figured I'd tie up some loose ends. Can't have you two scheming behind our backs."

Grayson snorted derisively. "Scheming? Against you? Trust me, you're not worth the effort."

Flo's smirk wavered, her eyes narrowing. Anger flared briefly in her expression before she took a step forward, her dagger glinting menacingly in the light. "Big words for someone who's about to die."

Liberty didn't wait for her to make the first move. With a swift motion, she hurled her spear, the weapon slicing through the air. Flo dodged, but the spear grazed her arm, leaving a shallow wound that immediately began to bleed.

"You'll regret that," Flo hissed, lunging forward with surprising speed.

Grayson stepped in, meeting Flo's attack head-on. The sound of metal clashing filled the cavern as their weapons collided. Flo was quick, her movements sharp and deliberate, but Grayson matched her blow for blow, using his strength to block her strikes and push her back.

Liberty scrambled to retrieve her spear, her heart hammering in her chest. She circled around, looking for an opening.

As Flo raised her dagger for another strike, Liberty seized her chance. She lunged, driving her spear into Flo's side. The Career let out a sharp cry of pain, stumbling back as blood seeped through her fingers.

"You're tougher than I thought," Flo spat, her voice thick with rage.

Grayson took advantage of Flo's momentary distraction. Moving behind her with predatory precision, he pressed his knife to her throat.

"Drop it," he growled, his voice icy and commanding.

Flo froze, her breathing ragged. After a tense moment, she let her dagger fall to the ground with a clatter.

"You make a sound, and it's over," Grayson said, his voice low and threatening.

Flo nodded stiffly, her jaw clenched in defiance.

Liberty stepped closer, her spear still pointed at Flo. Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed the storm of emotions brewing beneath. "The cannon yesterday—who was it?"

Flo's lips curled into a snarl. "Dane. The mutts got him."

Grayson leaned closer, his knife pressing against Flo's neck. "And Cage?"

Flo's eyes darted between them. "He left me for dead. Used Dane as bait for the mutts. Then tried to use me too, but I escaped. Fell into this damned cave."

Liberty scoffed, but before she could respond, movement caught her eye. Liberty saw through the lie—she said 'our' backs. Without hesitation, she threw her knife toward the shadow. A wet, gurgling sound followed, and a cannon fired.

Grayson turned his head just in time to see Dane collapse to the ground, his lifeless eyes staring into nothing. "Damn it. Where's Cage?"

Before either of them could react further, a mace hurtled through the air, narrowly missing Grayson. He dodged instinctively, releasing Flo in the process.

Chaos erupted as Flo scrambled to escape. Liberty lunged, her spear catching Flo in the side, while Grayson dove for the mace, using it to deflect another attack.

"Move!" Grayson shouted, grabbing Liberty's arm.

The two fled, darting through the maze-like cave system. The sound of footsteps behind them spurred them on, but Cage and Flo were slower. As the forest light finally came into view, Liberty and Grayson broke free from the cave and ran.

They didn't stop, their feet pounding against the forest floor. Only when they were certain no one was following did they collapse behind a large boulder, their bodies trembling with exhaustion.

They were alive—for now.

Liberty and Grayson gasped for breath as they leaned against the cold surface of the boulder, the weight of their escape pressing down on them like a physical burden. The forest was eerily quiet around them, the only sounds were their laboured breathing and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

Liberty clutched her reclaimed knife tightly, her knuckles white, as if letting go of it would somehow undo their survival. Grayson still held the mace he'd picked up, his hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline coursing through him. Neither of them spoke at first, the silence between them heavy with unspoken fears and relief.

Finally, Liberty broke the quiet, her voice low and strained. "That was too close."

Grayson nodded, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. "Yeah... way too close." He glanced down at the mace in his hand, its dark metal stained with remnants of their fight. "We can't keep going like this. If Cage doesn't kill us, the exhaustion will."

Liberty wiped the sweat from her brow, her gaze darting around the dense forest. The trees stood like silent sentinels, their shadows stretching long under the dim light of the fading sun. "We'll rest here for a moment, but not too long. If Cage and Flo catch up..." She trailed off, the implication hanging in the air.

Grayson gave a grim nod. "Agreed. But we need a plan, Liberty. Running won't cut it anymore."

She didn't answer right away, her mind racing as she replayed the events of the cave. The look in Flo's eyes, the raw desperation, and the fury in Cage's attack—it was clear they were cornered animals now, willing to do whatever it took to survive. Liberty couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for what had happened to Dane, even if it wasn't entirely their doing.

Grayson shifted, adjusting the mace in his grip. "Cage is strong, but he's not as smart as Flo. If we can separate them, we might have a chance. They're less dangerous on their own."

Liberty considered this, nodding slowly. "Divide and conquer. It's risky, but it's our best shot."

"And the forest gives us an advantage," Grayson added. "It's harder for them to track us here, especially if we keep moving and cover our tracks."

Liberty glanced at the surrounding trees, her mind already working through the possibilities. "We'll need to set traps, create distractions. If we can keep them off balance, we might be able to take them out one at a time."

Grayson smirked, a flicker of his usual humour breaking through. "You've got that crazy look in your eyes again. Should I be worried?"

Liberty couldn't help but let out a dry laugh. "Only if you're not ready to keep up."

They shared a brief moment of levity, but it was fleeting. The weight of their situation quickly settled back over them, and Liberty pushed herself to her feet, wincing as the aches and bruises from their escape made themselves known.

"We can't stay here," she said, her tone resolute. "If they're not on our trail yet, they will be soon. Let's find higher ground, scout the area, and figure out where we can set up an ambush."

Grayson stood as well, his movements slow and deliberate. He glanced back toward the direction of the cave, his jaw tightening. "Do you think they'll follow us all the way out here?"

Liberty's eyes narrowed. "Flo and Cage? They don't seem like the type to give up easily. But if they're smart, they'll know we've got the advantage out here."

Grayson gave a low chuckle. "Smart isn't exactly Cage's strong suit."

"Maybe not," Liberty agreed, "but desperation makes people dangerous. We can't underestimate them."

With that, the two began moving again, weaving through the dense forest with practised caution. Liberty kept her knife at the ready, while Grayson held the mace like a lifeline. They didn't speak much, their focus on navigating the terrain and staying alert for any signs of pursuit.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the forest floor, they found a narrow ridge that offered a clear view of the surrounding area. Liberty crouched at the edge, scanning the trees below for any movement.

Grayson joined her, his voice quiet. "See anything?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. But they're out there. I can feel it."

Grayson frowned, his grip tightening on the mace. "Then let's make sure we're ready when they show up."

Liberty nodded, determination hardening her features. Together, they began to prepare, using every ounce of their training and survival instincts. The arena wasn't done with them yet, but they weren't done fighting, either.