— 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐱 —

━━━━━━ ☽【❖】☾ ━━━━━━

I wasn't ready. That was the thought repeating itself over and over again in my mind as I stood on the pedestal for the next sixty seconds. I'd almost made the mistake of stepping off when I'd finally reached the surface and Harlan was nowhere in sight. It was like my heart caught in my throat while the wind was knocked from my lungs to join the ice that swirled through the air.

It was frigid. Despite the layers of clothing provided, they wouldn't be nearly enough to keep anyone warm for long. I could already see frostbite claiming the lives of half of us if we weren't careful.

Sixty seconds felt like an eternity but it also passed in the blink of an eye. The gong echoed throughout the arena, somehow overcoming the sound of the roaring wind. I stood frozen for another minute before remembering that I likely wouldn't survive long if I failed to act.

I sprinted forward off my pedestal, screaming out Harlan's name. However, it was taken with the rest of my breath away with the wind. I should have accepted Cypress's suggestion to tie my hair back into a braid, but I'd insisted that a ponytail would suffice. And now a tangled mess of red hair filled the open air where ice didn't blind. I still wasn't ready and my pulse felt like it was beating a hundred miles a minute, but I pressed on.

I sprinted toward the shadows ahead of me. I know... my first mistake. I almost ran into the side of the cornucopia too. Its reflective surface kept it hidden in the snow, ice, and wind. The only reason I stopped was the tribute that careened with the surface to my right, falling to the ground while staining the ice red. And suddenly I saw how stark the contrast was. It froze quickly, turning deeper and darker in shade... but as the only color in this white dystopia, it would draw more attention.

The tribute drowning in their own blood was unrecognizable, and I didn't take the time to identify them either. Standing still was like asking for death... and so was the decision to run into the chaos. I avoided a pair of daggers that clattered against the side of the cornucopia, then slid to my knees to dodge the ax swung toward another tribute.

Inside the cornucopia there was a brief release from the cold and noise. It sheltered not only the weapons and packs, but it kept the cold and howling air out. The temperature was noticeably warmer. And although my body tried to persuade me to stay, I grabbed the first pack I could find then looked at the weapons lying on the ground: a bow, some arrows, a sword, a staff, and a sickle. I didn't have the time to decide or the hands to choose more than one. Without hesitation, I snatched the condensed bo staff and sprinted back out into the open.

A sword was swung toward my head. I felt the steel graze my forehead as I dropped down to my knees for the third time in ten minutes. My breath was hot and the mist clung to the air, but it was carried away by the wind just as quickly as everything else. Through the pelting snow and ice, I could see only a pair of eyes. Two irises of a different hue that would haunt my very soul: one blue which somehow managed to exude a cold deeper than the chill running down my spine, and the other gold and warm. Yet it seemed even more dangerous than the blue as it threatened to engulf in flames and burn.

The sword was swung a second time as if a wraith was trying to absorb my essence before I had a chance to even consider the promise I'd made to a boy I'd already lost. I narrowly unlocked and extended the staff in time to block the blow and knock my opponent back onto the ground. Then I scrambled back onto my feet—sliding along the powdery ground—and sprinted off into the woods that surrounded the cornucopia.

The further I ran from the center, the more I could hear. The echoed cries of anguish finally had a place to scream and the clash of swords and steel rung through the cortex of my mind. My breath flew by in puffs, stuck in the place from which I had come. My lungs burned and shrieked for air even though it was the air that damaged them. My throat cried out for water, but satisfying my thirst was the furthest thing from my mind.

The pain in my fingers and toes was anguish, and every step and tree branch I brushed aside felt like I'd been pulling the skin away from my hands. I couldn't tell you how much time had passed when I finally stopped. Only that I was alone and too deep in the woods to tell the time. The wind still whipped my hair around my throat, as if trying to choke me before another tribute had the opportunity, yet it was softer and silent compared to the start.

I had time to think, yet the only thing on my mind was the disembodied eyes that had challenged me and succeeded in showing me just how small I truly was. How did I intend to survive much less protect another person? I narrowly escaped death more times than I had fingers to count... and possibly toes if it turns out I'd lost one to frostbite already.

Finding a source of warmth was the only thing on my mind as I tore branches from the forest surrounding me. Snow continued to fall, but the thicket overhead did a decent job of preventing the powder from gathering on the ground too quickly. Only once I'd cleared a spot and given up on starting a fire did I even consider looking through the pack of stolen.

The sticks were frozen and refused to cooperate, so currently, I had a pile of sticks and wet leaves, a staff I didn't know how to properly use, and a pack of supplies that were of little use to me at the moment. The pack had an empty thermos (how wonderful to keep something hot when I couldn't even start a fire), a few ointments and bandages, a flashlight, some batteries, and a few spearheads (ah, they must be for the spear I didn't have since they were far too thin to attach to the staff that I'd stolen). I thought it was all useless, that is until I remembered the gash on my head that had frozen with dried blood by this point.

Careful not to waste a drop, I unscrewed the cap and rubbed some ointment over the area that the cold had already numbed near my temple. A close blow, I realized. Then I gathered my supplies—keeping one of the spearheads in hand for good measure—and trekked onward.

"Harlan!" I shouted, on the more desperate side since I'd already spent fifteen minutes screaming his name and my voice was growing hoarse. "Harlan!"

The snow-covered bushes to my left rustled and the sound of a twig snapping echoed in a disorienting pattern—first to the left, then the right, then in front, then behind me.

"Harlan?" I asked again, not quite a whisper, but it wasn't nearly as loud as I'd been shouting before.

"Shhh!" I was shushed. The voice was familiar yet harsh, and certainly not Harlan's. In reaction, I grabbed the spearhead tighter in my fist, preparing to raise it over my head. However, my wrist was grabbed from behind as a pair of lips brushed against my ear with a whisper. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

I sighed with relief, spinning around to face Rex. However, the frown on my face returned as I noticed he was alone. "Where's Honey? Where's Harlan?"

"They're safe," Rex assuaged my concern. "Harlan grabbed Honey as soon as he could step off that platform and ran for the woods. I found them maybe half an hour later before the tribute from district seven could have a say."

The canon sounded. We both jumped, turning back-to-back as we checked out surroundings. I glanced over my shoulder even though I probably should've just remained focused on what lie ahead of me. "How many was that?"

"Four. I think." I could feel Rex shrug as his head turned toward mine. "We'll find out tonight."

"If we live that long," I muttered. "Because if the careers don't find us, the cold will do it for them."

"I wouldn't be too worried about either for tonight," Rex contradicted, shaking his head as he waved for me to follow after him. "Harlan found some shelter for the night and Honey found a water source."

"Why do I feel like the kids are faring better?" I asked, chuckling under my breath as my exhaustion tried to lighten the mood.

"Because they were smart enough to know not to head into the madness," Rex replied without hesitation as he eyed my pack. "Was it worth it?"

"We'll see."

We walked for half an hour, yet it didn't feel like we'd be stopping anytime soon. On the other hand, it felt like Rex knew exactly where he was going.

"How'd you find me?" I asked, breaking the unspoken vow of silence between us.

"An accident really," he admitted. "I was searching for dinner, but I needed some distance from the shelter in case another tribute found me first. Couldn't risk the proximity to the kids. And then I heard you while I was wandering. You're lucky I was the first to find you. Are you sure the gods aren't on your side?"

"Would I be here if they were?" I replied to his question with one of my own.

"From the sound of your interview there was another reason for that," he countered. He then lowered his voice. "Carefully now. They're watching,"

Whether he meant the Capitol or the gods, I didn't know. Either option wasn't pleasant to think about though. Rex led us onward for another ten minutes before stopping at a pair of bushes. I must've had a look on my face because before I could even open my mouth, he held up a hand. He pulled back the branches of the bushes to reveal a hole in the ground—one barely large enough for him to squeeze through. He helped me down first, checked the clearing, then followed after.

As soon as my feet touched the stone floor of the concealed cavern, a small pair of arms were wrapped around my waist. "Juneaux!"

The tension that clenched my heart finally eased as I ran my frozen fingers through the boy's curly hair. I still couldn't feel a thing, but the action relieved some stress all the same.

"I thought I said to stay toward the back," Rex reprimanded the boy, placing his hands onto his hips.

"You found her!" Harlan released me for only a second before tackling Rex in the same way. He nuzzled his face into the other tributes jacket with a muffled whisper. "Thank you."

Rex softened, with just enough time to return the hug before the boy rushed back to my side once more. And once he saw the cut above my eyebrow, well he refused to leave my side. It was laughable really. I was the one who'd promised to protect him, yet he was the one fussing over me.

I didn't catch most of what Harlan said, stuck in a daze of appreciation that he was still alive and that I hadn't failed him yet. But the excitement in his tone was enough to help me smile as he led us to the back of the cavern where Honey had a fire waiting. And for a brief second—as we sat around the warm glow in one another's company—I was convinced that everything could be alright.