Kirwan is resting. He's just resting, and sooner or later he'll wake up. But I know that's not true. Because I'm covered in his blood and there's a gash in his chest over his heart. And a hovercraft has appeared over us. I will not move. I will stay with him.
But I promised him that I'd win. I promised that I'd kill Valzen. I look down at him. He could be asleep. He could wake up any minute. But I have to leave him. But not without him keeping a piece of me. I pull my stone heart out of my pocket and press it into his hand, curling his fingers around it. "Don't lose it," I say softly. "Don't lose my heart."
I lay him gently on the ground. The hovercraft lifts him up, and I watch him go. I don't feel anything anymore. Nothing but rage and fury. I pick up Valzen's knife. 3/4 of a foot long. The blade is flat on one side and curved in a vicious pattern on the other. The handle is wrapped with black leather.
My only weapon. Even if I still had my boomerang, this is the only weapon that will end her life. The only thing that I will let kill her.
I run after Valzen, through the forest. Faster than the wind. Like a bullet. I know she's waiting for me. Waiting with a cold smile and another knife.
So when I emerge into another clearing, I'm not surprised to find her there. I wait for her to speak first. We stare at each other for a while before she talks.
"So this is it," she says. "This won't be too hard."
"You'd be surprised." I say through clenched teeth. I'm squeezing the knife in my hand so hard that the leather on the handle starts to dig into my skin. Valzen laughs. "Look at you. Bruised and bleeding. Heartbroken because I killed your little boyfriend. That's why I don't let myself care. Caring gets you hurt. And I'm not one to invite pain."
She's right. I'm sore and cut and wish I could die, but I cannot. I have to live, to keep my promise to Kirwan. I watch her, and she watches me. Her long black hair is pulled into a high ponytail. I don't want to know what she's using to keep it up. She looks to be in perfect condition, no cuts or scrapes at all.
I run at her. She smiles, as if she's been expecting it. She brings her knife up at the last second and blocks my slash. She feints at me, then goes for my left arm and cuts a bright streak across it. The pain burbles up, but I take advantage of her swing and counter with a swipe across her cheek. She spins around me, but I'm there, ready to kill.
"Not so bad," she says, raising one eyebrow. Then she strikes out again. This time I see it coming and swing my knife up to counter her. She brings her other arm forward to punch me, but I shield myself just in time.
She tries it again, and again. We are locked in a combination of sparring with knives and arms. She kicks me in the shins, and I go down. She bends over me, breathing hard and laughing. I aim my knife at her ankle and dig it in deep. She falls away, howling, and I pull it out and get up after her.
We battle with our knives and our bodies, both of us suffering blows from legs and arms and cuts from blades. Finally, she knocks me away and runs for it. I chase after her, through the trees and the snow, now stained with our blood.
She is pulling away. Across the clearing she turns back to smile at me. "Do you think you could catch me? Do you think you could kill me? You are nothing, Ayla Cetteras. Nothing."
"Liar," I whisper, and pull my arm back. She laughs, a cold laugh that chills me. "Go ahead. Try to hit me. I bet you can't make it across this clearing. And I've never lost a bet."
"Well, now's the time to start," I yell, and send the knife flying.
It strikes her in the heart.
Her gray eyes go wide.
If you hit them in the heart, they're gone for good.
She drops to the ground.
A cannon booms.
I walk over to her, almost in a dream, and pull the knife out of her chest.
I stand over her as Claudius Templesmith's voice fills the stadium.
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the victor of the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games, Ayla Cetteras!"
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