LEGENDS ▹ the hunger games au

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀

𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀 :
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SHE TASTED BLOOD.

Her mouth was full of it.

She came up choking, feeling red dribble down her chin and splatter onto the plush carpet. Her head was spinning and she realized rather distantly that she must have bitten the inside of her cheek in the night. The tender flesh was ragged and raw. It matched how she felt inside. The day was breaking through the windows. The air had festered into something misty and haunted. No stylists arrived with the dawn, just a hollow knock on the door and an order to wake.

IT WAS TIME.

Willow struggled into an upright position from where she had fallen asleep on the floor, pushing greasy hair off her throbbing temples. Her eyes were swollen and her skin felt sore to the touch. Her breath caught in her coarse throat and she rubbed roughly at the dried tears that had formed a painful crust upon her cheek.

It was finally time now.

She had to be strong, the way she was the day of the Reaping.

It was time to brace herself for whatever waited outside the door.

Her parents did not return, nor did Haymitch or Effie. She wondered where they were, if they were even still alive, if they were being tortured for what they had done. She regretted it, now, that she hadn't had a better chance to say goodbye, to say thank you... and to say she was sorry that all they had left of her now was her death.

She hoped they didn't stay to watch.

Willow didn't see Rye either, not even in passing, not even as a voice through a wall.

After their parents and Haymitch were taken away, the Peacekeepers herded then like cattle into their rooms. They locked the doors. They ignored every protestation and the banging on their doors and gave them no chance at a goodbye.

Will wouldn't see Rye again.

Not until the arena.

After all, tributes entered the arena alone.

Wherever he was, was Rye scared? Had he slept? She wished there was some way to tell him that she was all right, that she wasn't afraid, that he shouldn't worry about her... But she knew that was a pointless venture, anyway. He was going to worry about her just as much as she worried for him.

There was no escaping it.

It was a pair of Peacekeepers that arrived before dawn to take her to the roof where she boarded a lone hovercraft.

Once taken off, Willow numbly stared out the windows while they sailed over the city and then to the wilderness beyond. If she dug deep into herself, she could find a way to admit that there was something beautiful about this, seeing just what a bird did. Only birds were free and safe, the very opposite of her.

But then the windows blacked out.

They were getting close to the arena.

Some voice inside, sounding eerily like Haymitch, kept pressing her to eat and, when this failed, to drink. Will managed to keep down small sips of water, thinking of the days of dehydration that almost killed her mother in her Games, thinking of how she would need strength to keep Rye alive.