Purely Polyvore: July 2014

"If I burn, they're burning with me. That's a promise." Charlene died last night, of smoke inhalation, I suppose. Gasped out her last breaths, head lying in my lap as I coaxed dribbles of water into her mouth. The cannon went off a few hours before dawn, and I slowly carried her body out and laid it on the grass outside the Cornucopia. She was gone this morning when I went back out. The acid moat is gone too. Good, this works in my favor. If Snow and Moore want a fight, they can come to me.
I dig a firebreak all around the grassy former island, a large long one that it would be difficult for fire to leap, then sluice down the grass around the Cornucopia, pouring two bottlesful over myself when I'm done. All the supplies are inside, but it doesn't matter now. No one will need them after tonight. Jumping over my firebreak, I begin firing arrows into the trees around me. The wind will spread it, and I see plenty of pines - they'll go up like torches and spread the flames, too. I will be surrounded by a wall of fire. By fire Charlene died, by fire my opponents will die.
"Kobayashi Maru," I mutter to myself. My grandfather used to say it all the time before he died, he told me that it was from before the Great War. It meant I do not accept this, I will not play by these rules. But since Charlene has died, I have no reason to not play by these rules.
I go back to the Cornucopia, tying a wet cloth around my mouth and nose as smoke begins to hang in the air. I strap on a sword and a knife, still holding my bows and arrows. "Alright, Snow," I say aloud. "Come and play."
It's not long before I see them, running through the woods - whether from my fire, or the mutts, I don't know. I don't care. They have to com here. I string the arrow to the boy, holding it tensely for a moment and aiming, before letting fly. I'd aimed for the middle of Moore's stomach, but it flies to the side and strikes her left arm slightly. I curse and draw steel, waiting for them to get closer before I throw my dagger. I've always been better at throwing missiles than shooting, my dagger strikes her square in the chest and falls to the ground, blood spreading across her chest with unnatural speed. Snow stops with a little gasp, of shock or pain or grief. Good, she knows how I felt as Charlene died on my lap.
Snow looks up at me, eyes blazing with fury. "I hate you!" she screams, drawing her own sword. She is limping, I notice, is she wounded? That would work in my benefit.
"Reciprocated," I say coldly, settling into a good fighting stance. She attacks me, swinging with insane energy. She is good, good enough to be a Career. Figures. I barely manage to parry all her attacks, but from plentiful food and water, no lack of rest, and unwounded, I am in better shape than she is. I keep catching glimpses of Moore's body out of the corner of my eye, which bothers me, but I made a promise. I'll go back to District 8, I will train the next tributes. I will take the food back.
Snow is tiring, I can feel it, but she is still more highly trained than I am. I concentrate on blocking her and avoiding being hit, plenty of time to attack when she is too weary to defend. One of the great pine trees falls across the empty riverbed and we are showered in sparks. I barely flinch as a piece of burning ash lands on my hand, and I instinctively brush it away before it's on long enough to do damage. Snow, however, is doomed, she did not have the ability to drench herself beforehand. Her clothes go up like a torch, and then that fiery red hair. Her anguished scream rakes across my ears, and I flinch, before driving my sword through her without another thought. The fire I set was to bring them in, no one deserves to burn to death.
The trumpets blare and the fire instantly goes out - probably the Gamemakers blew some chemical into the air - but I just stand a moment, staring down at Snow's body, my sword still sticking in her chest. Charlene's face swims in front of my eyes, and I shake myself. The ladder has already descended beside me and I am suddenly overwhelmed with the thought that /I have made it, I am going home./ I kept my promise. I tilt my head back and flippantly flip the Capitol a salute, before stepping onto the ladder and rising up into the waiting hover.