LEGENDS ▹ the hunger games au

𝐱𝐢𝐢𝐢

HUNGER AND THIRST

DAYS IN THE ARENA :
I

TO ONE, MRS. KATNISS MELLARK :

OUR MOST SUPREME PRESIDENT CORIOLANUS SNOW REQUESTS THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE. PLEASE REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO THE ENTRANCE OF THE TRIBUTE CENTER FOR YOUR PRESIDENTIAL ESCORT.

EVER YOURS,
VALERIA SNOW

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

THEIR PANGS OF HUNGER WERE OUTMATCHED BY THEIR THIRST.

Rye and Grier were in trouble, that much was clear.

It had only been a day and they were dehydrating fast.

The landscape was grey and dusty, the barren rocks seemingly never—ending as they traversed deeper and deeper into a bottomless canyon. Somehow the pale white sun had the strength to beat down upon them through the wide rock crevice. Strangely enough, the deeper they went, the once chilly atmosphere turned still and sweltering until even the air was hard to breathe.

Through a tired muddled brain, Rye tried to think of everything he knew about finding water. Their path today ran downhill so, in fact, continuing down into this canyon wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Then again, he hadn't seen any signs of plant life or water erosion at all. So, their path wasn't necessarily a good thing either.

"It's times like these I wish I had listened to what my mother said about finding water," Rye announced during one of their many rests, leaning weakly against the rockwall.

"What did your mother tell you?"

"I don't know, I wasn't listening."

Shielding her face from the pale sun, Grier shot him as much of a look as her exhaustion would allow.

As the morning wore on, the allies were beginning to lose hope. Grier's head was aching, and there was a dry patch on Rye's tongue that refused to moisten. Every step was an effort, but in an unspoken agreement, they refused to stop. They refused to sit down. If they sat, there was a perfectly good chance they wouldn't ever get up again.

Rye didn't even have the strength to clench his fists when he realized what easy prey they were. Any tribute, even tiny Will, could take them right now, merely shove them over and kill them with their own weapons, and they would have little strength to resist.

But if anyone was in their part of the arena, they ignored the pair of allies.

The truth was: Rye felt a million miles from another living soul.

After a while, Grier suggested a new tactic — climbing a boulder as high as she dared in their shaky state — to look for any signs of food or water. But as far as she can see in any direction, there was the same unrelenting stretch of rock.

By late morning, they both knew well enough that the end was coming. Their legs were shaking and their hearts, too quick. They didn't even care when the small device on their utility belts began beeping — louder and louder, demanding to be listened to. They kept forgetting exactly what they were doing. They'd stumbled repeatedly, each of them catching the other to drag them back to their feet.