DESTINE, finnick odair

PROLOGUE

ೃ࿐ ୨⎯ "act one" ⎯୧
PROLOGUE:

FINNICK

"Come on, Ashtide"
It was the 70th annual Hunger Games and Finnick Odair was watching, swimming through pools of emotions, all too deep to analyse properly. Two tributes remaining, one of those, her.

Rylie Ashtide. She was difficult. Difficult to mentor, difficult to talk to and more than anything, difficult to like - or even tolerate. Despite this, he needed her to win. There she was head to head with District 2's Flint. He was just as quiet and gentle as she. Therefore it was hard to assume who was going to win.

Next to him stood Mags, her hands shaking, desperate for Rylie to win. She meant a lot to Mags, clearly. That was the only reason Finnick was trying his upmost effort to save her. Of course, he would for anybody else, but it was different with Rylie. Mags needed her.

It was sick. So sick. But Finnick was desperate to hear the sound of a canon. He'd never wish death upon anyone - that's not Finnick. He needed her home and safe. It felt as if it was personal, he knew deep down, it was just him wanting the best for Mags, but a larger void than the already large one would be created without her, which was strange they'd only known each other a week or two. He wasn't like this for the other tribute they lost.

In the arena, the cameras could show Rylie clearly struggling, it was dehydration. Clinging to a tree, her legs curled, hugging her body for comfort. She was so weak, it would only take Flint a matter of seconds to kill her, she wouldn't be able to fight back.

"Please Finn, we need to help her."
The desperation in Mags struggling voice was what made Finnick so eager.

He almost froze, but he persevered, the panic would have overtaken his wits by now if he wasn't such a quick thinker

"A spile!" He almost shouted, startling Mags "She's still got sponsors, we can get her a spile"

If you had sponsors in the games, you were the lucky one. Thankfully, for Rylie, she was popular. Sponsors were incredibly expensive in the later part of the games, which made her even luckier. She'd already received a gift for a sponsor, a generous roll of bread. The gifts were the difference between life and death. Mentors often left notes and that's exactly what Finnick did,

Keep going Ashtide, we need you.

Short but sweet, perfect.

All Finnick could do now was sit and wait, the worst pain. No one from District 4 ever wins the Hunger Games. It was almost impossible.

Every year watching tributes die, one after the other was so harsh. So evil. Perhaps that was the reason Finnick hated the girl so much, he knew by now, you can't get close to a tribute, it's only going to hurt.

RYLIE

I'm never going to get through this.

The only option Rylie had was to be pessimistic. An open-minded, determined attitude simply wasn't worth it. She was sure she'd only let herself down once again.

Just a few hours before, she was fine, telling herself she could win, if she tried. And she did try. Too hard. It was until the dehydration hit. She knew it straight away.

Thinking she was just thirsty, it wouldn't last long. But oh was she wrong. She'd been clever, and she hoped everyone watching could tell.

Now, leaning against the trunk of a great tree, the branches creating a natural blanket over her, as if the sky was going to hurt her, but really it was what was underneath, hiding underneath with her. There was no hiding, not in the games. No hiding from the real killers, the one behind the screens, killing children one by one every year.

She was too weak, she could tell. It was practically surrender, just laying, watching, waiting. Waiting for the last remaining tribute to come and brutally attack her.

In a way, that's what she wanted. All the deaths, the blood, the terror. No 'winning' could ever make up for that. Ever.

Her eyes began to close, her mind drifting off elsewhere, to her sister Nova; she would be distraught to be losing her, her and her mother. It wasn't fair. Her mind went to Mags - the grandmother she'd never had. She had to stay for Mags too. And surprisingly, she thought of her mentor, Finnick. He wasn't the nicest, but she wanted to get back to him.
Her last thought, however, would be those no longer with her, those she'd join. Haldin Riverway, the male tribute from District 4. He was only thirteen. He didn't deserve it. And she thought of her mother, her mother who battled hard, against her own brain. The beautiful woman who was criticised, criticised for going 'crazy.' She'd had no time to recover from the death of her mother.

Closing her eyes tighter, almost begging for her death. The weakness and fatigue inside her only increased. She knew she didn't have long. Her mind practically spinning, she almost didn't notice the sound of the chime.

A parachute.

"Yes, yes!" she exclaimed, panting hungrily, like a wolf to it's prey.

Grabbing out to catch it, the cold metal casing sent shivers up her body - she was cold enough already.

Using all the strength she had, she opened it, to see a small note, resting above a tiny metal device.

Keep going Ashtide, we need you

By that, she knew. It was Finnick. And she knew, she needed to carry on