I had to move. I was cold, hungry and terrified. There was no point in hiding forever. Even if I tried, the Capitol would find a way to chase me out.
Food was first on my to-do list. I was certain I'd past a stream on the way up here. Maybe I could spear some fish.
Carefully, I slid down a ridge to see my fears awaken. They were waiting for me.
"There you are 7." Sneered the girl, Sarina, from district 1. "We were beginning to wonder where you were." What now? Run? Don't run? Attack? Talk it out? Surrender? At the Cornucopia I had no ideas at all, now my brain was buzzing with them. But again, I didn't know what to do.
Then I saw him. That boy, from 4. The one that'd been watching me all week. At mealtimes, in training. He paid attention to my interview no doubt. From his gaze he seemed genuinely kind, but now he was going to kill me. With my bow too. My survival lay in his hands.
"Make it quick." Said Vincent, district 3, in a barely audible tone. "We've got more important people to be taking care of." It was one thing to be murdered without any defence, but being murdered knowing that you weren't even worth the effort, that was anyone story.
I stepped back, considering an escape, but remembered the bow. An arrow shot could be an unpleasant way to die if it wasn't aimed properly. It could take hours, days even, to bleed to death. Anyway, if I ran, and I wasn't shot, i'd surely be caught again by the Careers. I'd seen them run, and I was no match for it.
District 4 raised his bow, aiming it at my chest. Even then the pain was agonising. He hesitated. "Fine." Sarina hissed. "I'll do it myself." I closed my eyes tight as her blade swing towards me.
An scream of pain escaped his mouth before he tumbled to the floor. I stared down in shock at Drake, who was bleeding at my feet.
* * * *
The town square gasped. Scout scrambled up the ridge from which she'd come, as Drake Ewell lay bleeding to death.
Atticus could breath again as his daughter made a swift exit and carried no pursuers. Yet he still stared up at the screen where the boy lay. Emotions rushed into him. Sadness. Anger. Guilt. He could not justify the last. But, explainable or not, it was there.
He planned to stay but something forced him to leave. The cameras focused on the boys dying expression and i reminded him too much of the past. Of his son.
As he walked towards home, Atticus heard loud footsteps behind him.
"Bet you're mighty proud of 'er!" The voice belonged to Bob Ewell, Drake's father. "Bet you're glad it's my son layin' their instead of 'er!"
Atticus couldn't lie to himself. He was glad that Scout had escaped. But, however, he was not proud or glad that Drake took her place.
He turned towards the red man faced man that was storming towards him. "She oughta burn in hell, and so had you!" Ewell raised his fist. Atticus didn't even flinch.
"Father, no!" The girl stepped in front of Atticus protectively. "This ain't gonna bring Drake back, is it?" A hint a tears could be heard in her tone. Ewell lowered his fist slowly.
Atticus muttered that he was sorry for their loss and walked away, as if nothing happened. As he turned in at the corner of the street he stopped.
Bob Ewell was shouting after him. "She'll pay for this Finch!" He barked. "She'll pay with her life!"