rowan emerson

Finale Part II: Dina v. Rowan

As Rowan catches her breath a parachute drops from the ceiling containing a suture kit and a tablet of morphling. There is a note included:

Rain v. Rowan

Rain v. Rowan (the true story)

“I’m…” I stop, knowing another apology won’t do me any good. If anything, it makes the situation worse. So I yank back all babble and words and decide that, given the chance, I will cut off my tongue and become and avox. Unfortunately, I don’t have that luxury, and the words come unbidden again.

“That was awful of me to do. I shouldn’t have. I understand if you want to murder me.”

I curl up into even more of a ball on the forest floor, hoping that I’ll disappear entirely.  

Gvenna starts speaking again and I squeeze my eyes closed as she apologizes some more. When she mentions me murdering her, my mind catches. I should want to murder her, now more than ever, but I don’t. I still want to be around her, to talk to her and that’s so much worse in so many ways. 

Finally, I find my voice. I still can’t look at her, so I begin skewering the meat as I speak. “Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t apologize for not having feelings for me. Honestly, we’ve known each other for hardly a week. Just forget I ever said anything.”

“…Like, really like you.”

 It’s the last straw. I promise– I swear I try to keep myself from doing it. But, as if I have no control over my own body, I take her hand. She’s still as a statue, tense the moment my fingers close around hers. My daggers are left behind me. I’m unarmed and her axe lay just behind her. I won’t lie. I do manage to think of these things before leaning in and pressing my lips to the corner of her mouth.

But I don’t think of Valerie til after.

I lean back faster than I came in, choked up despite it being the faintest kiss I’ve ever given. Perhaps it’s because it’s the most dangerous. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” I cut myself off, pushing away from her and flinching. I’m sure she’s about to take that damn axe and chop me in half. Especially after I finish my sentence. “I’m dating someone. And I know I’m probably going to die and she just saw me do that–I know and– I shouldn’t have done that but you are so, so pretty–but it doesn’t excuse what I did–” 

My words are chopped up, like the meat Rowan just sliced. I wish I were the meat at this point. 

I’m not expecting her to move closer to me at all. In fact, I expected her to slap me or something. My heart is pounding as she takes my hand and my eyes slide close my eyes as soon as her lips touch mine. It’s brief and and fleeting, but somehow it still manages to make me feel like I’m on fire.

She whips back a moment later, and I wish that I could say it didn’t matter to me, that I didn’t care- after all, I knew it was coming- but for a single, fleeting moment, I thought that maybe she really did return my feelings. I don’t open my eyes, I can’t. It was bad enough hearing her say the words. I didn’t want to see the apology, the regret.

Her apology is rushed and stilted and she suddenly stops speaking. I feel winded, barely even able to breath as I finally open my eyes. I don’t look at her quite yet, though, and instead stare into the fire that has, ironically enough, gone out in the time I had been distracted.

Without a word, I stand and move around to pick up the bottle of kerosene, squirting some onto the dying embers, my limbs feeling heavy and my movements sluggish. Why didn’t I just listen to Ivy? I thought I had everything under control, that I wouldn’t be disappointed when she chose her girlfriend over some girl she just met five days ago.  

Composing myself, I take a deep breath and flash her a genuine smile. 

“Well, I suppose you are right. I’m pretty good with hand-eye coordination. If I could, I’d knit or stitch something right here and now.”

In response to my own comment, I attempt to move my hands. I pick out a weed next to me, leaning back from the weak flame to let Rowan finish the poor fire I’d began. I twist the roots together and work to make a small chain. Then I stop, staring at the plant.

“Oh. This is, like, a flavor thing. I mean, uh what’s the word…” I hold it out to her, “like a herb for seasoning. I spent some six hours at a plant station one of the training days, so I recognize this. It grows everywhere apparently. You can cook it on the meat so it doesn’t taste bland.”

I’m babbling again, I realize, then bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. I hate my fluctuating feelings.

I watch as her fingers move, twisting and pulling the roots of the plant to form a little chain. Suddenly she stops and I tilt my head, my eyes glancing around in case she heard something until she starts explaining about the properties of the plant. Reaching out, I take it from her, examining it, before laying it on the raw meat. 

Her babbling is undeniably adorable, though, and I can’t help the grin that comes to my face. “No, don’t apologize. That’s good to know.” I say with a nod. When the conversation turns to a more serious note, I shake my head, “No, you’re are being helpful. Don’t sell yourself short.”

But I know it’s necessary. I knew when I scared it in Rowan’s direction. So I grit my teeth and, in my shifting state, collect twigs for what seems like the hundredth time. The only difference is that I’m a bit distracted by my thoughts this round. And Rowan’s bare shoulders– though, I mean, I’m not looking. Really. 

God. I’m in the middle of a damn death trap and I’m still distracted by the stupidest things.

“I’m wishing I was born in seven right about now. Then I’d know how to do all these things,” I finally relent, confused by, well, everything.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, not everyone in Seven knows all this. I barely do either. It’s only because Harrison lives pretty much in the forest. A lot of people in my District work in lumber mills and paper factories, so there’s less access to the actual forests and trees.”

 I speak as I work, skinning the beast before getting to the meat. It’s crude and messy, but I get the hang of it with relative ease. The dagger is sharp and soon I have a quite a few slabs of meat ready to be cooked. Without any immediate threat and the promise of food soon to eat, I relax a bit, watching as Gvenna begins setting up the wood for a fire, forming a makeshift spit to cook on. 

“Already set up over by that tree,” I say, pointing to one a few trees down from the carriage, “but I agree we should move on, I suppose. Nice spot while it lasted, yeah?”

I pull the straps of my backpack closer. Look down. Roll my shoulders. Don’t stare at her.

I’m regretting not insisting that Harrison take me on his hunting trips as we wander around the woods. It feels like it’s been ages, and all we’ve seen was a whole lot of nothing. At this point, I’d be happy for just another rabbit to satiate my hunger.

That’s when we spot it. A deer. It’s not too large, but a hell of a lot bigger than the rabbit we’d split the night before. I gesture for Gvenna to go around to try and startle it into running towards me. It’s a risky move, but it’s the best I can come up with for the time being.

Luck seems to be on our side because when Gvenna rustles some branches, the deer bolts straight towards me, rather than sideways. With a well timed swing, I managed to catch it’s leg, sending it crashing to the ground. I waste no time finishing the job, hacking it’s head off as efficiently as possible.

My jacket- torn up as it is- still manages to restrict my movements, and after a moment of struggling, I pull it off and shove it into my bag. It’s a bit chilly, but without it, I can maneuver the corpse into a nearby clearing a lot easier.

I do not do that, though. Instead, I stay on look out, not trusting the gamemakers despite their generous gift from yesterday. The kit would be a lifesaver if we needed it. But, still, I’d rather stay vigil. 

I find ways to keep myself preoccupied for the next hour. Getting up, I move around, straying but never too far from Rowan. I attempt to build a small trap out of some of the more bendy branches laying about the forest floor. It’s a shoddy attempt; yet it turns out stable. Satisfied, I leave my work to sit back beside Rowan. And, of course, my mind and eyes wander over to her.

She’s strong. And smart. And really, really pretty.

As if I’d said the words out loud, in the same instance I think such thoughts, Rowan wakes from her slumber. Her eyelashes flutter open and I’m certain she catches me staring, so I snap my gaze to another point. She gets up and speaks. I nod.

“That trap will probably help. We can set it near by and come back and check on our way back?” I suggest.

I’m not sure if there will be as many creatures since it’s day time, but it didn’t seem so different from home, so maybe we’d luck out and find a deer. At the very least, her trap had to yeild something, right.

I called the all clear to Gvenna, showing her the dart before tucking it into my pocket. Now that we’ve stopped walking, I feel my exhaustion kick in and I dive back into the carriage, pulling out the upturned cushions and setting them on the ground. They’re plush and a rich wine color and at this point nothing looks more inviting after my sleepless night before. 

Propping up against the bottom of the carriage, I sit down on one cushion, setting the other beside me, and let out a sigh of relief. I’m no stranger to walking around, but this much walking on no food was starting to get to me. Mix that with my restless sleep and I’m ready for a quick nap.

“I think I’m just going to rest a bit, if that’s alright with you. Feel free to sit down and take a break.” I say, vaguely gesturing to the other cushion, my axe resting on my lap as I started to doze.

“Wait–” I choke, touching her arm to keep her in place. “Are you sure you want to check that out? It practically screams ‘trap’.”

“There could be food or weapons or resources inside of it.” I reason, It’s fairly large, after all. Of course, that could also mean there’s a giant mutt inside waiting for us as well... “Even if it’s something bad, at least we have the element of surprise.” I say with a shrug. It’s been pretty quiet so I don’t doubt the Game Makers will want some excitement soon. If it comes to it, I’d rather have the upper hand to start. “Just, uh, have your knives ready, yeah?”

“I think left is the best option.” I say after a moment of consideration. “The clearing is too empty. It’ll leave us too exposed.” And anyway, I was always more comfortable in the woods. It was more familiar.