Subject: Just look at those last couple of days!
Author:
Posted on: 2016-01-24 09:48:00 UTC

((With apologies to all involved. Don't worry, I do know you're not a bunch of psychopaths! I just loved the PC-Nesh interactions, and this sort of happened...))

They had been a team. PoorCynic and Phobos had been skeptical of each other, almost coming to blows at the Feast, but Neshomeh had been the glue that held them together. Until that morning.

Clean water had been scarce in the Arena - that had been clear from the number of canteens in the Cornucopia - and Phobos had repeatedly turned down his drinks to allow the others to have more. When he awoke, weak from thirst, Neshomeh had nothing to give him. He died shortly before noon.

For a time, Neshomeh seemed okay - until the pair chanced across Kaitlyn. They hadn't really run across her very much - Phobos had hunted with her on fourth day, but for the most part she seemed inclined to stay out of the way. PoorCynic assumed they would follow their usual tactic of giving the other Tribute a wide berth. After all, there were still five of them left; there was no need to get reckless.

Neshomeh's face was still calm as she tied Kaitlyn down, picked up the lighter from where the other woman had dropped it, and carefully lit the fire.

PoorCynic fled. He ran until he practically tripped over BeautyID; as they hid together in the undergrowth, he warned her in hushed tones of Neshomeh's madness.

Then she found them.

BeautyID died hard, and PoorCynic didn't look back when her screaming abruptly stopped and the cannon fired. He ran out of the forest region, across the desert, into the rocky maze. It was the only place he might stand a chance.

Neshomeh followed.

Neither of them slept that night. They hunted each other under the light of the waning moon, peering into the harsh shadows thrown by the sandstone cliffs. At last, as dawn drew near, PoorCynic saw his chance. Leaping from the clifftop, he landed atop Neshomeh, bearing her down onto the ground.

But... he couldn't do it. Panting, he stared down at his onetime ally. Wordlessly, he dropped the rock, stumbled to his feet, and held out his hand.

The cannon sounded. Tough Cookie had stayed out of everyone's way, slowly growing weaker from hunger. The fishing gear she had grabbed at the Cornucopia had been a red herring; there were no fish in the Arena. She had slept through the previous day, rousing only briefly when her sponsor sent a canteen of water. Now, unable even to wake up, she died.

PoorCynic stared up at her image in the brightening sky. He never even saw Neshomeh's sais.

The cannon roared for the last time as Neshomeh straightened up. Meticulously, she wiped the blood from her blades, and waited to be collected.

hS

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