A curved blade protruded from the earth mere inches from Ruby's crouched form. Her slender frame quivered, one hand clamped over her bicep, fingers pressed against the fabric of her shirt where a coppery maroon stream trickled down her arm. A strangled cry escaped her mouth as she curled in on herself, kneeling amidst the shattered cornstalks.

Without hesitation, Ethan knocked an arrow, drew back the bowstring, and released it into the cornfield; the first was immediately followed by a second. Both arrows vanished into the dense rows with a twang. But nothing happened. There was no further sight or sound of whoever had just attacked their group. Ethan prepared a third; the bowstring strained with tension as he fixed his stare on the cornfield, positioning his body in front of Ruby.

Hazel’s heart pounded in her ears as she wrenched one of her axes from her belt. The corn still swayed in the wake of the weapon that had just been thrown in their direction, several ears marred with curved cuts.

Hazel's gaze connected with Silus's. In his warm mahogany eyes, she detected a storm. His posture shifted, facing the corn, muscles tensing as he broadened his stance. His axe was secured in both of his hands. The sunlight of the arena caught its edge, sending intimidating scarlet glimmers across their makeshift clearing.

Silus and Aaron edged closer to the border of the open space, their shoulders rigid as they scanned their surroundings. However, visibility was severely limited; just a few feet beyond the edge of the clearing, the corn rose like a wall. The stalks stood so close together; their leaves interlocked to create a barrier that blocked out not only sight but also the sense of the world beyond. It made Hazel feel almost disoriented with the way the rows seemed to close in, the clearing feeling both claustrophobic and exposed at the same time.

A low moan from Ruby pulled Hazel's attention back to the injured girl. Hazel rushed to her, dropping down beside the younger girl. Ruby's damp curls shielded her face as she bent over herself, eyelids flickering open when Hazel's hand fell over hers.

"Let me see," Hazel insisted. The only blood Hazel could see seemed to be coming from her arm, which Ruby was desperately holding onto as if it would fall off. With another word of whispered encouragement, Hazel peeled Ruby's fingers away. The torn shirt clung to the seeping blood like a second skin, obscuring the flesh below it. With careful yet forceful tugs, Hazel tore the material of the sleeve. The fabric gave way, allowing Hazel a clearer view of the wound that marred Ruby's arm.

As Hazel's scrutiny fell upon the deep laceration, Ruby bit her lip, a sharp intake of breath the only sign of her agony as Hazel's fingers brushed the wound, tracing its jagged edges. The gash extended from her forearm and snaked its way up along her bicep before finally ending at her shoulder in a wide arc. With each movement or terrified breath, the wound oozed bright red blood, the edges of the laceration parting with each motion.

"Put as much pressure as you can stand," she instructed, guiding the girl's trembling hand over the wound bed.

Hazel retrieved her axe and began cutting strips of fabric from the remnants of Ruby's shirt sleeve. She wrapped the strips around Ruby's arm, as much as the plaid fabric would allow, just under her armpit.

Ethan's hoarse voice met her ears as he stood in front of them, casting hasty side glances while keeping his bow trained on the corn. "Is she going to be okay?"

Hazel cast him an assured look and nodded, “Nothing we can't manage." It wasn't a total lie, if not the whole truth. The wound took up a large portion of her arm and was bleeding a moderate amount, but it hadn't hit an artery and appeared significant but not fatal.

Hazel turned to Ruby as she pulled her backpack off and dropped it between them. "I've got you."

Ruby nodded, her trusting eyes relaxing a bit as she investigated Hazel's. With gritted teeth, Ruby continued to put pressure on her mangled arm.

Ethan's jaw unclenched for a moment, though his eyes still held onto the remnants of a battle between wrath and dread.

Just then, a rustling sound came from the corn, and Ethan released another arrow. This time, the whooshing of the arrow was followed by a sudden guttural yelp. Hazel's heart lurched at the sound, and she looked up from her work.

The others had frozen in their places, all holding their breath. Silus' whole body was tensed, his muscles coiled and ready. Suddenly, he turned his head toward Hazel, sending her a fleeting, almost apologetic look. Then, without warning, he surged into the dense cornfield, his axe leading the way. Within seconds, his broad silhouette vanished among the overcrowded rows.

"Silus!" Hazel's voice was a sharp whisper. However, the field had already claimed him; the only signs of his passage were the disturbed stalks and the faint jostling of corn husks.

Aaron continued to stand in the clearing, his head swiveling between the group and where Silus had just fled. He squared his shoulders before he charged into the corn, sword at the ready, following Silus's lead.

"Wait!" Hazel's cry seemed to dissolve into the dense corn. She surged to her feet, a wave of dizziness clouding her vision as she did. When her surroundings settled, the endless expanse of cornstalks still barricaded her view.

Muffled cries of pain broke through the quiet, yet the source remained unseen, hidden by the endless sea of corn. After a few moments, distant shouting and the clash of metal upon metal made her cringe. Multiple voices were yelling, but their words might as well have been in a different language for all she could make out. Hazel struggled to identify the voices, unable to discern their owners or even their numbers. But their tones left little to the imagination of what was taking place.

"Hazel," Ethan pulled her from the panic building within her. He still stood firm, his body rigid and ready, and his bowstring pulled tight. Fear danced in his eyes as he scanned Hazel's face, "Help her, please.”

Hazel's pulse raced, but Ethan's plea anchored her. Her fear for Silus's safety gave way to frustration. He had left, fully aware of the turmoil his departure would cause and that she would be compelled to help Ruby. She bristled at his unilateral decision to confront danger head-on without her. Though, after their discussion the night before, she should have anticipated it. Silus, you had better come back in one piece or else.

She huffed, her voice threaded with frustration. "If he doesn't get himself killed, I swear I'll do it myself." Her fingers raked through her hair.

"I don't doubt that," Ethan responded, his fear subsiding into a ghost of a smirk at the edge of his lips. His bow remained taut in his hands, sweat tracing the contours of his face.

Turning her attention back to Ruby, Hazel knelt beside the young girl once more.

Rifling through the backpack, Hazel pulled out the supplies she would need. The wound was long and would require a large amount of padding to cover and absorb the drainage.

"You're doing great. Just a bit longer, okay?" Hazel encouraged, locking eyes with Ruby, whose grey orbs shimmered up at her. Hazel tried to put on a demeanor of confidence she wasn't even close to feeling, hoping it would mask her inner turmoil. "We'll have matching bandages, Rubes," Hazel winked at her, "Maybe we can talk Festus into sending some in your favorite color."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Ruby's gaze flickered to her with a small smile. "You think he would send pink bandages?" She croaked; her complexion was pallid beneath the relentless sun, a bead of sweat meandering down her forehead.

She cast a glance at Ethan. He was still tense, glaring at the corn, arrow ready to fly.

"Pink it is. You hear that Festus?" Hazel smiled despite the abject terror that swirled within her, "Who knows, maybe they will become all the rage back in the Capitol because of you."

It might be inane to be having such a discussion, but it helped distract Ruby from the pain while Hazel completed her task, and it helped Hazel take the edge off her growing terror, "I can see it now; they probably will call it like 'survival chic' or something."

Ruby smiled as she appeared to consider the notion, a strained giggle escaping her lips. But just as soon as her smile appeared, it faded, and her face was drawn back to look at the cornfield. Hazel's eyes searched the corn as well as if, at any moment, someone might emerge. Hazel paused every few seconds to look up herself, unable to fully focus on the task at hand.

As Hazel secured the last pieces of gauze as tight as she could, the noise of the fight had faded and now began to dim even more. She strained to hear any more of the conflict, but gradually, the cornfield fell into a haunting stillness.

"Who do you think is out there?" Ruby whispered.

Hazel's vision drifted to the weapon that had injured Ruby, still lodged in the field. She rose from her crouched position next to Ruby and approached it. Reaching down, she gripped the handle, pulling it up to eye level. She instantly recognized it. It was unique, distinctive—the curved form of a weapon she had recently seen on the face of Grace's coin. Its blade boasted a sharp edge, while the handle appeared to be made of lightweight umber-brown carbon fiber. Streaks of crimson stained the blade, with trickling beads of blood having worked their way down onto the ground below.

Looking from the blade to her own trembling hands, stained with Ruby's blood, the vivid color as red as the girl's name, molten guilt bubbled up into her throat. How could I have been so naive?

Ethan met her stare as she spoke. "Looks like a sickle."

"Nine," she murmured under her breath.

His gaze drifted back to the dense cornfield, his expression tense, jaw clenched.

At that moment, Snow's voice flooded Hazel's mind, the scent of roses so vivid she could almost swear he was whispering in her ear, 'I told you so,' with that smug certainty of his. She shivered, casting a glance over her shoulder. I may have just gotten my brother killed.

"Probably," she conceded, her touch lingering on the sickle's alien grip, panic swelling within her.

Ruby, with her arm bandaged, stooped to retrieve her pick from the earth, her grip unsteady. Hazel and Ethan shared a concerned glance. Ethan's quick sweep of Ruby's form was filled with worry, his brows furrowed.

"Rubes?" He whispered.

"I'm okay," she insisted, but her words sounded hollow.

Hazel placed the sickle in her belt and wiped her bloodied hands on her pants before gripping one of her axes. She scanned the cornfield one more time, "We need to find them.”

Ethan paused, peering at Hazel and then Ruby, concern marking his features. "But Ruby's injured."

Glancing at Ruby, Hazel saw the grimace and her attempts to cover her discomfort battling in the girl's expression. "You're right," she conceded, then with a resolved look, "I'll head out. You two stay here. Keep her safe."

Ruby's head shot up, defiance sparking in her eyes. "No way. I'm coming with you," she pushed back, raising herself to stand a little taller, "You're not going alone."

Ethan interjected, his voice dropping an octave in seriousness. "You're injured and in no position to fight.”

Undeterred, Ruby distanced herself from Ethan's protective reach. "Doesn't matter. I'm going to find Aaron and Silus."

Ethan let out a resigned sigh. Hazel didn't hear all of what he cursed under his breath but caught the words "Tulsi" and "Goddamn stubborn." Whatever hold the girl had over Ethan, she sure knew how to wield it.

Hazel offered Ruby a gentle smile, placing her hands on the girl's shoulders. "It's too risky. You don't have to do this.”

Ruby locked eyes with Hazel, her resolve unshaken. "But I want to, and I am.”

"Alright," Hazel relented, sharing a look with Ethan, who no longer appeared interested in arguing, "But you stay right behind Ethan, got it?"

Ruby nodded, her grip tightening on her pick as she failed to cover a wince. Turning to Ethan, Hazel set the plan in motion. "I'll lead. We'll try to pick up on Silus' trail. Keep an eye out for anything unusual."

Ethan fell in step behind Hazel, with Ruby enveloping herself in his shadow.

The cornfield stretched out before them like an endless maze, the rows disappearing into the horizon, creating a sense of claustrophobia. Gripping her throwing axe, she took careful steps, following the meandering trail left by Silus' boots amidst the thick vegetation. The haphazard broken stalks were everywhere and splayed underfoot like an ugly, mushy green and brown carpet. Ethan stalked closely behind. Every third step, she caught the brief flash of his blue bow.

She kept her ears open, but the sound of her own beating heart made it difficult for her to hear much. Every time her arms jostled a stalk too hard, it was like she was screaming their location to their unseen enemies. Hazel tried to slow her breathing. It felt deafening. The rustling of the cornstalks sounded like whispers as if the field itself was alive and conspiring against them. The songs of the birds from earlier that morning seemed like distant memories.

As they moved forward, the path became increasingly chaotic. Stalks were bent and broken, strewn across the ground. Some had been sliced cleanly through, while others were crushed and appeared to have been flattened by bodies rolling in the dirt. The air was heavy and still, filled with the earthy scent of trampled vegetation and a faint, unsettling metallic tang.

Silus' voice played in her mind from the night before. Hazel swallowed and prayed she would be able to do what needed to be done if the situation called for it.

Up ahead, something caught her vision. A splash of crimson stood out against the muted colors of the cornfield. As they walked, it grew bigger, and a chill ran down her spine. She stopped dead when she found herself standing over a significant pool of blood.

Hazel’s pulse began pounding behind her temples as she peered down. Uncertainty gnawed at her, and she closed her eyes, fighting for a moment of calm amidst the rising panic.

"Hazel," Ethan sounded like he was a step behind her.

With a heavy sigh, she refocused on the ominous path marked by the blood. "We should follow this.”

"It might be one of the attackers, and it will lead us right to our enemy.”

"Or it could be one of our own," Hazel countered, finally turning to him, "You can do what you want, but I am following it, and I'm not leaving this cornfield without my brother."

A flicker of empathy crossed his features, his grey eyes softening as they met hers. He searched her face for several moments and seemed to find something within it that made him concede. "Of course. I would never ask you to."

She considered him for a moment longer, taking note of his expression. It was so different from the confident, almost arrogant way Ethan presented himself. She could nearly describe it as understanding.

Together, they fixed their sights on the trail of blood unfurling before them like the worst scavenger hunt imaginable. Hazel followed the stray stains as they led through various areas of crushed corn. The burgundy splotches were still wet. As they walked, the rows started to feel like the bars of a jail cell that was slowly getting smaller. She could not go forward without the rows snagging on the sleeves of her shirt or the fabric of her pants as if to pull her backward, away from the trail, away from Silus. She pushed another stalk away from her with a little too much force, and it snapped in half.

"Easy, tiger.”

Hazel halted, her ears straining for any reaction their noise might have provoked. When silence persisted, she exhaled, murmuring an apologetic "Sorry" before they resumed their cautious advance. The fear of whose blood they trailed hung in the air, and Hazel sent up a silent plea, hoping against hope it wasn't Silus's.

Soon, the narrowness of the rows began to relent, and the various areas of destruction of the field, as well as the trail of blood, radiated out to what seemed to be the epicenter of the conflict. In this small clearing, the damage appeared to be most concentrated.

Here, the corn had been completely flattened in a wide circle, creating an open space. The ground was littered with debris: pieces of fabric, perhaps torn from clothing. More stains darkened the soil, some still wet. On the far edge of this much larger clearing, more red caught Hazel's eye.

"I think there is more blood up ahead," Hazel whispered.

Ethan looked up, and Ruby peered around his shoulders at Hazel, her eyes wide and pickaxe in both of her hands.

"They have to be close," Hazel whispered, wiping a lock of her copper hair out of her face.

Ethan merely nodded, readjusting his grip on his bow.

Beads of cool sweat trickled down her spine as they navigated their way closer to the bright red pool on the other end of the clearing. Then she noticed something odd about it. It was too red, unnatural, like paint had been dumped in the field. Squinting, she moved closer until she came to a sudden stop.

Ethan nearly bumped into her, his words chastising, "Hey, don't just stop like that. I could have impaled you with one of these arrows."

But his words were a white noise to Hazel, drowned out by a buzzing fear that clouded her senses. Hazel's chest heaved, her breaths quick and shallow. Her pulse thundered in her throat, each heartbeat a loud drum in her ears. She pressed a hand to her neck, feeling the rapid pulsation of her veins as adrenaline surged through her body. Laying before her was no pool of blood. The red she had seen was the bright ruby blade of Silus' axe, abandoned in the dirt.