I denied. I swear on every measly speck of tesserare I traded in. I refused Carver's inkling of escaping District 7's...Panem's hidebound borders. I did. or should of.
The dream-capturing body slouched to hook onto my back made me accept. For her. For Coy.
99 probable, remorseless, outcomes distress my mind. So I'm grateful when Carver speaks up.
"Hungry yet, Coy?"
I give her a paltry nudge with my strained elbow. No response. My head slants to her still dreaming. I pray she's imagining a more suitable life for herself.
"Probably still beat from that little rendezvous with the Peacekeepers." We have been heading southbound from District 7. Or I hope it's south. The half hour it took to get this far was delayed by starvation. Resulting in Carver recieving his first kill with an axe: A turkey. After skinning(which took an additional 10 minutes of trying to peel lean flesh with a thick axe blade), working up a fire, and blazing it. We ate our legs with a very cocky Carver boasting about his kill. He packed up our axes with a hideskin backpack, and we continued. Yet, he is still preventing from telling us what destination we are trekking south for.
Shall a person would of told me this procedure yesterday, I might of just called you beserk. But, what isn't beserk? I would of said the same exact thing a week ago about the Peacekeeper fatality. Change is prominent and possibly too quick for the human mind. Here we are, defying country laws of murdering a Peacekeeper and escaping from the consequence.
Out of pure dehydration, I ease Coy out of her slumberous position off my shoulders and relocate her to one of the more plush-like spots on the ground. Maybe if we weren't on a corybantic run, I'd slash a tree down for her to rest on. I take a seat next to her snoozing position. Just her aura is making me drowsy.
"Car,can you hand me your canteen?" I plead, the dryness splotching on my tongue.
He unexpectedly sneers at me. "No, you'll have plenty to drink once we get to the dam."
That brandished me from my sleepiness.
"Dam? Like Varuna Dam?!" I say under my breath, for the sake of Coy.
"The only one in District 7, Zayn."
Most civilians think no more of Varuna; forget it even. Except for it's supervisors. The only telltale purpose it holds to me is the fact that Carver and I had an almost fatal encounter of nose diving in it. Our adolescent minds were more alert than ever the rest of that nostalgic April.
"Why there?" is what I was going to question. That's until Coy's indurate fingers settle for both of our reclined shoulders. She say's her first word in the span two hours or so:
And we do 'look'. We inspect ginger eyes with an identical examining glare that we probably feature aswell. we fix on a man's...no, more like a boy. He's probably just as elder as we are. A boy's body invested in typical District 7 attire. We notice sufficient lips start to move.
"If you're heading for Varuna, you've passed it already." He tests his own bravery by advancing towards us.
"And what are you doing in the middle of nowhere and in our buisness?" the heaping mixture of grogginess and agitation stirs between Coy's words. Both the 'Varuna boy' and I are in stupefaction of the audacious sentence that flings out of Carver's little sister's mouth. Puny, vulnerable Coy.
"Doing what you three are probably doing: running away from District 7." A single pointer of his insists on westbound with a tug. "I think that dam is a perfect place to start."
"So, after the Horse Nettle Bush you turn west? You don't continue southbound?" Carver indulges in his incorrect direction of Varuna.
After a brief and in my opinion, skeptical explanation given by the boy. We've learned that he calls himself Aero, he's rebelling because of 'Capitol law issues', and I guarantee I despise him.
"Yes. Only on the first one though, otherwise you'd be heading for the Capitol."
That last sentence gives the suspicion of why he has such information on District 7's area. For all I could of known, I thought we would be heading to uncharted land, out of Panem's perimeters. Our teaching curriculum provides minor information on our geography, probably to keep naive rebels from making a run for it. He couldn't...shouldn't know any of this. Coy most likely agrees, given the way she huddles away from him like he's a Career himself.
He does know though. Well too. Because the sense of moist air ripples in my bone marrow and I know we're close.
The closer we get, the stronger the mist, the realization of another obstacle. The Varuna supervisors gave up all aspects of their life to chaperon and protect the dam. My own father even debated on being one before his accident. Dawn to dusk you'll seem them attatched to Varuna's perimeters like a loyal pup. Whenever the weather's hazardous, they'd grab what little essentials they own and spend the night by her rumbling side. You hear little of them.
I wonder how Aero will manage that one.
Carver spoke something along the lines of " Be careful this time." or "Try not to slip again." but my attention was preoccupied by how mighty I forgot Varuna was when we arrived. Even her pile of daughty wood branches were more colossal than any District 7 home. They were as faithful as the supervisors; restraining extra water currents that promise to flood any land. The pacing water dipped down after the branches, descending down (for who knows how long) all while creating the only substantial waterfall in all of our country. As a child, you don't realize how tiny you are in perspective to something like this. I just happen to realize that now.
My guess is that Aero plans to take the narrow path to the right of the branches, which consists of a trio of metals plates and a railing to get to the other side of the dam. Common sense workers used it to construct the heap of wooden stems.
"Hey, let me reason with them," compromises Aero about the supervisors. "My godmother was one of Varuna's workers."
We witness Aero engage in what seems to be a conversation with four overseers. With the occasional hand motion.
Unconsciously, my fingernails hug and massage onto Coy's embony coils. Partially out of love; partially out of impatience.
I have no time when it hits me, feeling sheepish and played. Aero's godmother couldn't of worked here. Woman aren't allowed to work for Varuna.
And as my mind prepares a sentence of profanties to spew out of realization, the "supervisors" take control by whipping out four of the most exaggerated guns.
We were set up.
When the same ginger eyes of Aero's scan us over, I come to terms he's in on it too.
" Coy and Carver Gladebrier, Zayn Malik, this is the second time you've gone against Panem laws." Aero recites, but I couldn't care less who it was. Carver must of fumbled from behind me because one of the faked supervisors reprimands him:
"No need in searching for your bag of axes, Aero already took care of that when he was out of your sight."
There was no questioning what they were going to do; none. The first time: shame on us. The second time: shame on them for not catching us sooner. I knew what they wanted; the heads of the trio that murdered a Peacekeeper and tried to get away from it, hanging proudly on their walls. No wonder Aero tried at being a spy. You could say we're cowards, you could say it without any guilt.
I take Coy in my arms, without knowing which way I'm carrying her. I assume Carver catches on. Because when I take my leap off of the Varuna Dam, Carver's skyfalling right in after me.
you lookin' mighty fine.
Wow, screw you Aero alright then.
I just feel the need to point out Varuna is actually the God of Oceans in Vedic Religion, not a made up name.