CHAPTER TWENTY SIX;
the trees have eyes

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( warning: graphic gore/injury detail, violence )

     The world comes back to Vesper in patches. First she sees colours, murky and unclear. Then trickles of light illuminate her closed eyelids, which refuse to open to her surroundings. Next come noises, frogs and crickets the fragments of a familiar chorus, but eerily quieter than usual. Her mind wakes up... slowly.

     Everything hurts.

     She feels... heavy. Like a magnetic force ties her to the ground, pulling everything to the earth — her arms, her legs, her soul. Vesper couldn't get up if she tried. But slowly, she forces her eyes open. Surely enough she is exactly where she last remembered being, only now it's filled with the grey brightness of daylight, and someone is missing. Next to her, before she had passed out, there had been the outline of a body. A boy... now there was just an empty space. Taken away long ago. Nothing. The reminder slaps her with no mercy:

     Icarus is gone.

     Vesper feels her throat tighten with sadness, salty tears spilling into her ears and down the bridge of her nose. It is almost like a reflex, more fluid than anything she has refused to feel all this time. She feels so un-armoured by it all.

Of course, Icarus isn't the only reason for that. He never was. She knows that now. Some part of it all led back to her father, and the moment he died — the helplessness that had come with not saving him somehow. Perhaps Vesper had thought deep down that, if she saved Icarus, it would give some worth to her father's death. Because then at least she could save someone.

Vesper digests the thought as she rolls onto her back — taking more effort than she thought. She bites her tongue stifling a cry at the feeling of her wounds peeling from the mud. That's not good, she thinks. Now that she is awake, she realises, Vesper has no idea what day it is. How long has she been lying here? What has she missed? Whatever length of time it is, the thought of her bandaged ounce soaked with the swamp and all its diseases fill her with unease. It would be a miracle if she wasn't infected head-to-toe now.

But you're still alive, she reminds herself.

Which leaves her with a decision to make: is she going to give up, or pick herself up and carry on?

The obvious choice seems the latter — the chance to return home to her loved ones and lifelong riches — but it's not enough to give her the will to get up. Part of Vesper feels she could just lie here... and wait. For something, anything to happen to her. As though everyone at home will still get by. She couldn't bring Icarus home, but the door remains open for her.

Blythe will be waiting for you back home, she tells herself. Then, the more exhausted part of her replies: Maybe. But she'll be taken care of.

The cycle repeats, as she searches and searches for a reason to keep going.

You can see your friends again. (I already said goodbye, like it was the last time. What else is there to say?)

Reagan would have wanted you to get up. (Don't bring her into this. You didn't know her. Not really.)

Icarus would've wanted you to keep going. (... Icarus is gone.)

Sighing outwards, Vesper stares up through the canopy of cypress trees above her, more translucent than her time here so far — is it just her, or does it seem mistier? Her hand tiredly falls from her hip to her thigh, tracing the sheath of her sword. She stops. Breathes. Remembers.

Her fingertips close around cool metal, in the shape of a wishbone.

Vesper slowly unwinds Levin's necklace from the sword's handle and holds it high above her face, almost backlit with a halo of daylight. She feels every contour of his lucky charm, that has now travelled with her for this journey. She recalls how much it meant to him. And that's when, as certain as the sun, the answer suddenly hits her:

I need to bring this home.

It seems strange, unimportant even, out of all the things to get her up. But all of a sudden, Vesper finds something tangible to hold onto. Something she can see to fight for. She imagines Levin's bereaved mother at home, now having lost a husband and a son. It only makes sense that this charm should return to her, like the sea returns to the shore. Vesper never would have thought that of everything, the lucky charm of the pure-hearted boy from District Four would fill her with determination again. It works like a domino effect — it reminds her of how he should have gone home, then subsequently how she wants to go home too.

Then another precious metal fills her with willpower — the tinkling of a silver parachute.

Gritting her teeth, Vesper peels herself up from the mud, sitting up groggily on the ground. One hand holding onto the wishbone necklace like a lifeline, the other she uses to reach out for the capsule like a child grabbing its food. It lands with a clunk in her lap. Vesper carefully clicks open the lid, about to look inside when she catches something else in her periphery: dotted around her body are four other capsules in the mud, lying waiting to be opened. Her mouth part a little in awe. Are they all... for her?

She must have been out for a long time.

Incredulous that she missed all of these packages, Vesper crawls around and opens each capsule one by one. Inside are golden nuggets of resources that are long overdue — clean water, a loaf of (not-so-fresh anymore) bread, flint for starting fires with ease and some medicine of some sort. Each of them come attached with notes from Irma: "Something to keep you going" or "Use sparingly", every message as encouraging as the next. When Vesper gets to the final package, which are fresh bandages to redress her wounds, the strip of paper inside makes her heart skip a beat. It reads:

We're still here. — I & D.

     D... Dale?

     Vesper instinctively looks up at the sky, as if she'll find him waving down at her. But she can't believe what she is reading — Dale must be alive, and clearly well enough to help Irma with sponsor gifts now. She sure hopes that's the case. Either way, it fills her with a burst of relief to see. It also trickles a warm, fiery feeling through her, warming the clammy cold that freezes her skin. Another realisation that she needs:

     That the game is not over yet, and she wants to go home.

     Vesper wants to live.

     With a newfound perseverance to carry on, she absorbs her surroundings for real this time. The sight that greets her is somewhat unfamiliar — it is the swamp, of course, but it is thick with fog. The bright grey of the fog both masks and outlines all the trees and foliage, while the frogs and other animals are unusually quiet. The Gamemakers must have fiddled with the climate again, too, because for the first time in weeks, Vesper finds herself shivering with a touch of cold.

     She sits and eats the bread, maybe a day or two old... not that she cares. Drinks the water. Takes medication. Re-bandages herself. And as she does, Vesper realises how quiet it is without Icarus, suddenly missing his innocence and his little remarks. No other sign of life next to her. For the first time in the arena, she is a lone wolf.

     Vesper takes the opportunity to consider who is left in the arena. Now on her own, she has four potential tributes to face off — she says 'potential' for the fact that she could have completely missed a death while she was unconscious. But assuming they're all still here, that leaves Hero, Fern, Talon and Coral. The first three she has already had a run-in with, however brief or prolonged, but Coral seems something of a mystery still. Perhaps she's just been good at playing hide and seek. She finds it rather strange to think those are the only ones left, if not less; where did those twenty-four kids all go?

About an hour and a half having passed of sitting, eating, drinking and resting, Vesper thinks she might have enough strength to start moving. It's a miracle no one has found her and finished her off yet, so she would rather stop being a sitting duck while she can. So she packs up her things, ready to move through the arena on her own. The finishing touch to start off her journey is almost the most important — she fastens Levin's chain around her neck, the wishbone cool on her skin. Vesper's fingers press it against her sternum for a moment. This charm had better be lucky, she thinks with a sigh. Because she'll be needing it.

With that, she's off.

Even though the thought of traversing without Icarus feels wrong and unfamiliar, part of her feels... lighter. At least for now. Travelling alone this way would always have been her preferred way if that boy hadn't stumbled into the mix. So maybe this is her true test, to see what she is made of. Alone with the sound of her breath and the splash of her boots through water, Vesper walks and walks. Her sword is wielded at all times with her senses alert; anything could jump out at her through the fog. On top of it all, there is the strange feeling of being watched... unless she's mistaking the tree branches for gnarled arms coming to get her.

She dismisses this as exactly that, until the whisper comes.

Vesper stops. Whirls around, looks for the source. Her nerve stands on edge as she slowly continues walking.

Then she hears it again. That can't have been in her head. But where the hell did it come from? Vesper's head whips around, almost with annoyed curiosity, until her eyes fall upon it. Her heart slows to a calmer pitter-patter at the sight, before she even knows why. Ahead of her is a glowing, flame-like phosphorescence; it sighs and whispers in a soft, hushed tone. The blue light slices right through the fog like a beacon — Vesper finds herself involuntarily drawn to it, her lips parted in entranced awe.

     It's so... beautiful.

     Vesper reaches out to touch it, but as soon as the wisp is cradled in her hand, it vanishes. Her momentary disappointment is replaced by re-ignited curiosity when another appears; then another, and another. Soon a trail of wisps stretch out into the swamp, providing more clarity than ever as they beckon her along their path. Her feet walk before her mind thinks, her arms going slack as she follows them wisp by wisp. Their sighs and whispers help her along, breathing life into the strange blue lights. There is comfort in their flame — like she is a lost sailor being guided home by a lighthouse. Wherever home is, she has no idea, but the unconscious impulse to follow them is strong. She almost feels happy. Weightless. Unburdened.

... Until the ear-splitting sound of cannon-fire.

The wisps instantaneously dissipate, and Vesper is ripped mercilessly back into reality; so much so that she staggers on the spot. Her mind is scattered, her instincts completely mixed up. She doesn't recognise this place — where has she been taken? The dangerous beauty had sucked her in, entirely against her will. Vesper finds herself in shallower ankle-deep water, the first proper breeze in weeks rustling the reeds almost taller than herself. All she does know is the cannon came from close by. No shining face in the sky helps her either. She steps around in the water, holding out her sword again in case the killer is nearby, when she trips. She lands in the water with a splash, wincing at the impact on her wounded shoulder; then she gasps at what she sees lying in front of her.

Eye-to-eye with her and almost recognisable, is Coral... or it was her. Half-submerged in water, she only seems identifiable by her matted blonde curls. Everything else is shockingly different — her jaundiced and stretched skin, various wounds all over her body, hollow eyes with a thin sheen over the irises. Vesper's heart drops. She knows that look. It was the same one Icarus had once the snake had bit him. Surely enough, on Coral's forearm are two unmistakable puncture wounds.

Vesper swallows thickly and fights the nausea that attacks her. All she can think about is that if Icarus hadn't been shot, he would have reached this stage; slowly and painfully.

Perhaps in hindsight, Hero did the merciful thing without knowing it.

"Mierda..." The word slips past Vesper's lips like air. Only a second later does she realise it's the first word of Spanish she has uttered since her father died. She has well and truly opened the floodgates now. The Capitol will love that, she allows herself to think in a moment's cheekiness.

Although truly sorry for the fate that befell Coral, it gives Vesper a sense of relief to know it's one less tribute to face. Only three left now, maximum. She continues to traverse into the now-unknown territory.

     Something about the tree-populated area she stumbles into fills her with dread. Everything is quiet. Too quiet. And once again, Vesper simply can't shake the feeling that someone is watching her, and yet there seems to be no sign of any other tributes around. The branches reach out for her like malnourished hands, barely scraping her hair or her shoulders. And the trees... it's like they have eyes.

     Of course the trees have eyes, idiot, she thinks with a scoff at first. They're called cameras.

     ... But she could swear one particular tree trunk looks like it has a face. Vesper walks over to the distorted holes making the face-like shape, her hand never straying far from the handle of her sword. Its features look pinched into an angry, wrinkled frown, like it doesn't want her to be here. And yet there is a strange satisfaction in its look. Vesper shakes her head to herself. Seeing faces in trees isn't a good sign of sanity, Vesp, she tells herself.

     A branch snaps behind her. She whirls around, walks out to investigate and look for a tribute. No one.

     She looks down. Hang on... wasn't that tree root somewhere else before?

     The softest graze of a branch creaks behind her, catching a lock of hair in its grasp. Vesper starts and turns around — the tree behind her is moving its branches like arms and hands, eerily caressing her for just one touch. She stumbles back in horror and feels her back hit a tree trunk opposite. But that tree has its own plans too — it greedily wraps around her ankles and yanks her up into the air, leaving Vesper dangling like an animal caught in a snare before she knows it.

     Trees coming to life was not on her list of threats in the arena.

     Vesper tries to reach and cut herself free with the sword, wincing between the blood rushing to her head and the core strength needed. The blade briefly grazes the branch and another one comes as a punishment, whipping her across her back and leaving the finest of slashes. She recoils at the sting it leaves; the trees certainly put up a fight. It suddenly occurs to her that maybe she shouldn't cut herself down like this, for fear of breaking her neck. But what other options does she have? Option A, dangle like dead poultry. Option B, cut herself free but maybe end her Hunger Games return prematurely.

     Of course, there is Option C.

     She doesn't know it exists until it happens. A sickle tied to the end of a rope fastens itself around the branch that binds her ankles. It tugs hard until the blade eventually slides through. Before she knows it, Vesper thuds onto the ground, pain throbbing through her back. She scrambles to her feet to find the source; it belongs to Talon, who stands at the side of the tree, reeling his handmade device in.

They stare each other down — surely if he wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. Not that she knows enough about him to assume anything. All Talon says in the end, in complete clarity, is one word: "Duck."

Vesper finds herself obeying him, and just in time avoids an arrow that flies into a tree trunk. Behind her is Hero, furiously getting ready to load her bow with another arrow, until a tree branch abruptly grabs her ankle and drags her across the earth. Fern is also at the scene, in a struggle to retrieve her spear from the vice-like grip of another branch. The wisps must have led them all straight into a trap. Whirling back around to meet Talon, she notices him gesture to get behind a bush, and so they do — a little less lively than the trees here.

As she does, noticing how Talon's weapon is completely lowered, it clicks in her head: is this an alliance? A wordless and rushed one, for sure. Perhaps they are both as threatened by Hero and Fern as the other. How is Vesper supposed to face off with him after this? She is sure she couldn't bring herself to finish Talon off after this random act of teamwork, if it came down to it.

The sight of Hero, on the other hand, opens up a fresh wound Vesper had almost put aside. Suddenly she courses with burning anger towards the Career girl — she killed Icarus. She delivered the final blow. Part of her wants to storm over and finish the job herself; but Talon seems to have a better idea. Since speech isn't his preferred communication, he points quietly over to one of the tree roots. Surely enough, the roots are starting to pluck themselves from the ground, uprooting every time the tree has to stretch and grab a tribute. Of course. The Gamemakers are twisting them into something totally unnatural.

So if they play with them enough, perhaps they can create their downfall.

Vesper nods in understanding, and Talon returns the mutual look — a surprising amount of restrained co-operation, from such a stocky tribute who could easily get a kill right now if he wanted to. Instead they disperse, and start working on getting the trees to move. They both jump around trying to dodge attacks, ducking under swipes of branches and hopping over breaking roots. Hero and Fern still haven't received the message, trying to shoot and stab the trees only to be attacked by them in retaliation. Fern is even grabbed by the ankle and thrown against a tree trunk, which she miraculously survives with such force.

     Everything seems to be going to plan until Vesper feels her ankle catch under a branch — she falls flat onto her stomach, right in Hero's line of fire. Talon is too tied up with another tree to assist, and she can't break free. Hero's eyes glow aflame with the promise of victory as she loads her bow and aims it between her eyes, walking to her slowly...

     What she doesn't hear is the crack of tree roots giving way. Vesper notices, anticipates it, and wriggles out of the way as the shadow of a falling tree descends upon them. Her feet are barely inches away from the trunk when it cascades onto the ground with a deafening THUMP — she even feels the vibration rattle all her bones. Almost instantaneously is the sound of a cannon, paired with the haunting image of Hero's crushed arm sticking out from underneath the tree.

     The fight isn't over yet, but Vesper can feel her stamina dwindling quickly. She can't afford that. So she springs to her feet and runs through the foggy, darkening swamp, which is already fighting back to its tributes it has housed for so long...

     But she knows she will be back. This is the beginning of the end.

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A/N;

sorry about that ending, i honestly felt like it was a bit "meh" and rushed, but i didn't know how else to end it, and i'm just so excited to get this chapter out. this is more like a "part one" of the climax, honestly, because this and the next chapter could easily have been one... but i'm a perfectionist and wanted the chapters to total to a round number of 30 😅 so that's why they're split.

speaking of which, four! chapters! left! can you believe that? i'm absolutely gobsmacked we're at this stage, like... how? and i can also confirm that there is only one chapter left of the arena because, as the ending said, this is the beginning of the end. the next one will pick up right where we left off, and will include the big "climax"! the only tributes left now are vesper, talon and fern... hmm...

this chapter was (first of all) very emotional to write, but also really exciting because vesper is back in action again in spite of her grief over icarus (still not over that myself) and also DALE!! have been wanting to reveal that for ages, so i'm glad i could just drop that in. my favourite part was probably the arena lore, arguably my favourite part to write arena-wise for it's inspired by folklore related to swamps. the hypnotic lights vesper follows are will-o'-the-wisp, are atmospheric ghost lights seen by travellers at night, especially over swamps/marshes, and are common in folklore. i was definitely inspired by disney's brave for that one. and then the swamp trees moving was just a cool idea i had... r.i.p. hero though, what a brutal way to go. and also coral — yikes!

i'm currently hoping to dedicate all my writing time (whatever amount that is currently) to this fic, because my aim is to finish it before the new year... guess i'd better crack on! thank you for reading as always, and sit tight for the next (and final) arena chapter.

[ published: 17th november, 2022 ]

— Imogen