sixthiterationlogs | here we go again [Homeward Bound]

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here we go again [Homeward Bound]

WHO: Annie Cresta
WHERE: By the lake
WHEN: 10th May
OPEN TO: Finnick Odair
WARNINGS: TBA

It is morning. Was morning. No, no, it is still morning. Still feels like morning; Annie will look at the sun to double-check, but later. First, she has to get her bearings. Again. A month and a bit, judging by rough time estimate and the clock on her wrist (which she doesn't trust) and zip, whoosh, blink and whoospie-daisy, she's somewhere else.

This time, without the hours of panic which had lead to her collapse a month ago, Annie just reacts. She immediately crouches down, turning her small body into an even smaller target. Just in case.

It feels like the same day, the same time. Morning, what passes for spring in this arena. A quick glance at her watch and it hasn't even been two minutes (if she trusted it, which she doesn't). But she's not in the (her) yard with her geese, filling up their woven pool. She's on a shoreline. A lake, not a river or the sea. It doesn't quite smell like the sea.

She doesn't panic. Not this time. It's all happened too fast. She doesn't yell, she can think enough not to yell, but carefully, slowly, she lifts her head to peer around more.

There.

Finnick.

His backpack is no longer in his hand, but on his back - he must have swung it there after he zipped and blinked and found himself here. He's armed, still. That's something. He moves, fast, behind a tree and all right, good, he can think and she can think and everyone can think and it is fine. They've had the same idea. Hide.

Silently, Annie shakes her head. Not now, she tells her thoughts. She needs to think in a more orderly fashion than the slipping chaos it is so easy to go along with. She also needs to talk to Finnick. The distance is too far to crawl without drawing attention to herself, too many patches, but she can move closer. Carefully, and slowly, and always keeping herself alert to the sounds around them.

It's not that different from the forest around the villages, she thinks. Mostly the same sounds, but with a few strange birds tumbled in there. She doesn't have a sensation of being watched, but that could be wrong.

Once she's close enough to Finnick, lying down with her hands braced against the ground in case she needs to push herself up and run, fast, she tips her head a little and asks, quietly.

"Where the hell are we this time?"

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He'd been on his way out to check the traps. They'd still been there, in the same -- or equivalent -- places in this new version of the arena, and he's put in one more a little further down the river, but it's not possible to go much further without making the daily trips to check them unreasonably long. Finnick had stopped in the yard as he often did when Annie was tending their birds, to check in on his way out. He'd been prepared for a fishing trip, trident in one hand and backpack strap in the other, but not for this.

He doesn't notice moving, doesn't notice anything until everything is different: gone are the house, the yard, the contented rustling and chattering of the geese, replaced by an unfamiliar shoreline, edged with forest. It only takes a moment for Finnick to react, swinging the pack up onto his shoulder as he darts for the treeline.

It's only when he's taken cover that he can really examine his surroundings. Annie is crouched a short distance away, and she's looking around too, with an alertness that says that she's with him this time. As he watches, she shakes her head, and Finnick tilts his in a silent question, but Annie's already starting to move towards him. He watches out, spear raised, eyes scanning the treeline, the clear, down to the water's edge, but there's no sign of any potential attacker.

He crouches down when Annie stops moving, resting one hand against the ground in a deceptively strong posture: it looks casual, but he's ready to spring to his feet if he has to fight.

Finnick shakes his head.

"Don't know." His eyes scan the scene again, from the woods to the lake and back. "I think the trees look the same as the ones where the canyon walls were." He hasn't been far enough to know if those trees mark a sustained change, but the difference is very obvious to anyone who approaches the area where the edges of the arena used to be.

His green eyes flick, again, gaze traveling along the lakeshore.

"Don't recognize this shoreline, though."

She doesn't move closer. Not at the moment. The urge is there, coiling in her and making her arms tremble, but she doesn't. If someone is watching, then they need to be patient. She needs to move, but not in a rush. She'll wait. Just a bit longer, so when she moves it'll be a surprise and no one can take a shot at her with whatever weapon may be at hand.

"Do you wanna stay here or go explorin'?" Annie asks, thoughtfully. Both have their advantages and disadvantages; even just waiting is an option. Wait, see what happens; wait, see if anyone comes to find them. Walk away, see if they can find something familiar or even the way home. Walk away, get lost. More lost.

"Or we could go climbing trees again."

They've taken to trees here in this arena. Such useful things, tree. Useful to shimmy up and hide, useful to keep a high vantage point. But maybe the operative word is 'we'.

She can't stay here while he climbs.

There's no immediate sign of anyone else nearby, and no immediate sign of danger. But they both know better than to think that no obvious danger means no actual danger, especially in this new place, where there are so many strange creatures and potential threats like the badger-mutt that had attacked the village. But they're both victors, and that's proof that they can survive, no matter how difficult the environment, if they can be smart about it.

He considers Annie's question, still scanning the area for any sign of movement. A bird flutters out from the trees and Finnick lifts his spear, staring at the spot it had come from. But there's no further sign of movement, no indication that the bird was startled.

"Trees, I think," he says slowly, his gaze moving from the treeline back to where Annie is crouched. "Might be able to see where we are."

Annie doesn't look at the bird, because Finnick has that handled. Instead, she looks where he isn't, where he can't, to see if she can spot something different. Nothing. Just still forest that doesn't have the silence of fear. There's some twitterings further in, discordant enough that they sound natural instead of artificially pleasing.

"All right," she says. Trees it is, when she moves. Which isn't now. She's still waiting. "Did you feel anything when you were, um, moved here? Notice anything?"

She doesn't say, 'I didn't'. Not yet. She of all people knows how susceptible memory can be and she doesn't want to influence his answer while they are still gathering information.

There'd been tactical training in what they'd learned at the Academy, and they usually fall into it almost effortlessly in dangerous situations in this place. When he looks back to Annie, he can see that she's watching his back, just as he'd been watching hers, waiting to see if anything else was going to happen after the bird's flight. Annie's still exactly where she had been, pressed to the ground to make herself an even smaller target, but he recognizes the tension in her body and knows she's as ready to move as he is.

He pauses over her question, his brow furrowing in thought as he considers it. He'd been there, with Annie and the birds, waiting for her to come back from filling up the pool. He'd been watching her, and the birds milling around behind her. And then what? Then ... nothing. Nothing, just suddenly different surroundings, different sounds. No sound of approaching hovercraft to pluck them from where they'd been and bring them somewhere else. No apparent passage of time, and he doesn't feel the woozy aftereffects of drugs.

No, there'd been nothing.

"No," he replies, his voice quiet, pitched to carry as far as Annie and not much beyond. "I was watching you and the birds, then I was here. Didn't see anything. Didn't hear any hovercraft. Did you?"

Move. Move. Move, now.

It's starting to be a reoccurring order in her mind, chasing itself around and around her head. She ignores it, as she has been ignoring it, although it's getting harder. She wants to reach out, touch Finnick. Be reassured. But she holds herself still, at least for the moment.

"Nothing," she replies. "Like when I appeared in the fountain, both times. Just... blink and I am here. Musta blinked, anyway."

Or maybe not.

This arena seems to like these kinds of tricks.

Then, with a slight waver in her voice, "At least I filled up their pool and their water-bowls."

Her birds. Her and Finnick's sweet, lovely, protective birds. Last time, a month ago, she'd hadn't had the energy to worry about them that much, not until they'd all been reunited. But here, she's.... Somewhere. Somewhere else.

He hadn't thought about the birds. Not as a responsibility that they might not be able to return to before they're needed. It's only when he sees the way Annie pauses, hears the quaver in her voice, that he realizes the birds are locked up in their pen, and Finnick and Annie currently have no way of knowing how long it will be before they get back.

They'll be okay, Finnick instinctively wants to say, to reassure his wife and drive that wobble from her voice. But he doesn't know if that's true; how can he? The birds could flutter out of their pen if they needed to, but would they be safe if they did, with predators around out in the woods? His gut seems to clench, then sink the longer he thinks about it; Annie loves those birds, pours her adoration and affection into them, and she'd be devastated were something to happen to them.

His expression must be faling, visibly to Annie who knows him better than anyone else, as he lifts his hand to his chin in thought. The movement brings the hated watch and message device into his sight, and he looks down to it, then lowers his hand.

"I'll get in touch with Kate Kelly. See if she can look after them til we get back. She knows what she's doing with animals."

"Okay." It's a whisper, but the softness is to do with safety rather than doubt. He's right, too. Kelly does know, or so Annie understands. Certainly, she's kept those chickens and that annoying rooster of hers alive. And the rabbits. So, maybe it'll be all right. As long as the geese don't eat her -

No. She's not being morbid. She's not she's not she's not. It's not the time nor the place.

While Finnick types the occasional reply on his wrist-device, Annie keeps an eye out, moving her head as minimally as she can to keep watch. Then he's done, gives her a nod, and she waits. And she waits.

And she moves, quick as an ocean fish through the water, making sure all the while to keep herself down, as small as possible.

Then she's next to Finnick, behind him, allowing herself to clutch his arm tightly before just letting her head rest against him. There. She hasn't been shot at. Or attacked. And they are together.

"Anything?"

The birds make finding their way back more urgent than it otherwise would have been. With a source of water and fish nearby, Finnick and Annie could fend for themselves as they had done when they'd first been brought to the canyon, but Annie will worry about the birds even if they're being cared for.

He hasn't used the wrist device to send a message before, only really knows it has that ability because he's seen messages appear from other villagers. It takes him a little messing around with it to work out what he needs to do, but he manages to send off a message to Kelly. He's not sure whether or not the messages will make it back to the village -- how far do they go? He's not familiar with this sort of technology, though he's sure it must exist in the Capitol. But apparently he doesn't need to worry about that, because the message seems to get through, and he's able to make arrangements with Kate Kelly to look after the birds until Finnick and Annie can find their way back to the village.

When Annie arrives, Finnick feels her hands close around his arm and her head press against him. He leans into her, tilting his head to one side to press against hers.

"She'll look after them," he murmurs.

They might not have a moment to spare, but he still takes one to let himself feel the reassurance of Annie next to him. He breathes in the smell of her hair, the soap that gets made and left for the use of the village, then lets out the breath.

"We could be further round the lake," he offers. They could be a lot of other places, too, but that at least matches with waht they know about their surroundings.

At Finnick's reassurance that their birds will be cared for, and cared for by someone who seems to know what she's doing, Annie nods quickly. The movements are a little jerky, but it's still an acknowledgement. Good. Okay. That's something. The birds won't be happy about this, but they'll be okay. Assuming they get back quickly.

"Plan A," is what she says when she finally speaks. "We can walk around it, if that's where we are." It's a good plan, nice and simple and oh, they'll have to avoid animals because animals love shorelines, but it'll be something.

"First, we climb."

Just to make sure. And just to have an idea of what is ahead of them.

Annie, by far the lighter of the pair, goes first. Her movements aren't as quick as she can be, but then; it's a tree, not a mast, and they are still be cautious as to if they are being watched.

Finnick follows Annie up the tree. It's not that he doesn't trust her to report back to him, but they're trying to see if they can recognize anything; the two of them might recognize different things. So they climb, and once they're as high as they can get, they look. It turns out that the shore they've landed near is a lake, stretching away to the south-east. Behind them is an expanse of forest, fading away to mountains in the distance.

Unfamiliar landmarks. But they can see far enough away to see a curve in the shore of the lake to the southwest, a suggestion that it might be the western edge of the lake, and if that's the case, that this could be the other side of this version of the lake so many people had tried to cross when they were still in the canyon.

"Do you see something by the shore there?" Finnick asks Annie, and after some discussion, they agree. It looks like there's something by the lake, something that looks like the remnants of a manmade structure, and that suggests that it could be worth investigating. Shelter? Some sort of ruin? Something partly-built by someone from the villages?

They'll have to be careful, but they decide to go see what's there on the curve of the lakeshore. It might be the best starting point they're going to find, especially if this is the northern shore of the lake.

They fall into a familiar pattern as they walk, Finnick in the lead with his trident raised, Annie a little behind him and to one side, watching his back. It's old, classic Career pack tactics, but it's easy for them, too, watching for and with each other, keeping to the cover of the trees rather than walking in the open. Fortunately, the terrain at least isn't too bad; there's the forest undergrowth to walk through, but there aren't a lot of rocks and they're still on fairly level ground.

When they see the shapes they'd noticed from the tree, Finnick ducks down into the cover of a sprawling bush and gestures to Annie.

"I don't see anyone."

"Could be hidin' behind the boats," she replies just as softly. And it's true, although unlikely. There are boats on the shore, some in the water. All wooden, all in various states of disrepair and ruin. Not one is sailable as it is, although Annie thinks at least one or two should be salvageable from where she can see.

No real buildings, but some broken pieces of wood sticking out of the water make Annie think of a pier, once upon a time.

"Might be some tools," she comments then, glancing at her husband. Things for them to take, even if they shouldn't spend much time there. "And stuff to make shelter, if we need to."

Just in case, she glances up at the sky. It had better not start howling with storms like it did when it drove them back into civilisation.

Boats.

The thought of escaping from this place hasn't been high on Finnick's mind for a long time -- this place is dangerous, and they can't trust it, but they have each other and they're allowed to have each other without Snow's interference. That makes up for a lot. But boats bring with them a sort of freedom, as anyone from District Four knows.

(The freedom to be chased down by Peacekeepers by going too far from the shore or staying out too long.)

"Those boats have been there a long time," he says, distracted from Annie's practical suggestions by the thought of a proper boat available to rebuild. They have small collapsible boats but in the confines of the canyon and the lake that couldn't be walked around, there'd been little need for them.

It's an enticing thought, having a proper boat again, even if it's a small fishing boat and not the magnificent sailboat he'd had back home.

Annie's comment about the need for shelter drags him back to the present, and he nods.

"Should be enough wood there in the worst boats to build shelter." He leans a little further forward, gaze focused intently on the shore ahead of them, where the boats lie abandoned just beyond the pier.

"Worth going in for a look."

Finnick isn't the only one to be missing his boat. Annie's little blue sailing boat, with its cabins all set up for her and with her things in it, as been one of the many things she's been missing horribly. Fortunately, none of the boats she can see are - or were - blue. It'd all be far, far too sad otherwise. Instead, she moves her gaze from the sky back to scanning the surrounds.

"I'll go first," she says, waiting only for his acknowledgement before moving.

It isn't courage. It's practicality: Annie is half Finnick's size, and makes less of a target once her hair is shoved down the back of her shirt. And she can do this. She's not a ball of terror, and so far, she hasn't had to kill anyone or even think about it. She can crawl forwards. Crawl, and then tempt up to a crouch, and then stand. She knows Finnick will follow, so she focuses on the scene in front of them.

"Looks more abandoned than just damaged," she says finally, turning towards her husband. "Not all smashed up by a storm, y'know?"

He nods again, wordless acknowledgment that her suggestion is a good one. The teamwork is instinctive to them now; they've always looked out for each other, but here the training they'd been given and the tactics they know for working as part of the Career pack have narrowed down to this one dynamic, a pack of two. She goes first when him watching her back will be effective, when her size and agility are an advantage.

So she creeps forward, and after allowing enough time, Finnick follows her, his trident at the ready. Once they're closer, Annie stands and stops, and Finnick joins her.

They both know a wrecked boat when they see it, tossed by storm onto rocks, abandoned by surges high from its usual mooring, smashed in an accident or broken by a hurricane. Annie's right, it doesn't look like that. It looks like the ravages of time and weather and rot, an unhappy sight to the children of untold generations of fisherfolk.

"Like everything else here," he says, slowly. "Worse off than the houses, but just the same, like someone was using them and just left them." It's unsettling to consider, maybe even more unsettling than the idea that this place was created by Gamemakers and designed to look abandoned. If it really was abandoned, who abandoned it, and why? And why does so much look just the same as the canyon?

Finnick takes a few steps closer to one of the boats, and bends down to study it. Not that there's much to tell: it looks like a simple, small boat, the oars rotted away but the remnant of the rowlocks showing where they once were. There's a pile of bits of wood to the fore that might once have been some sort of fishing traps, before whatever held them together gave way.

But Annie's right, there's no sign that anything did this except time and neglect.

"No sign anything went wrong."

"We could fix them."

It's spoken quietly, but the timber of her voice speaks more to her thinking out-loud rather than being cautious. Annie crouches down by one of the boats, and tests the strength of the wood with her hand.

"Have to cannibalize some of the others. But, we could fix some of 'em."

Boats mean a lot of things to a pair from District Four. Freedom. Travel. Transport. Fishing.

Annie bites her bottom lip, thinking about it all.

"Help me turn it over? Maybe something's hidden underneath."

"I wonder how far away we are," Finnick muses. Annie's right. They really could fix these boats. Neither of them are expert shipwrights, but they'd been fishery kids before they'd been careers, let alone victors, and small crews often have to make the sort of on the fly repairs that would give them the experience to fix the boats.

There's no Peacekeepers here. What could they do, where could they go, with a proper boat? They could explore further down the rivers, try to cross the lake, see what fishing there is out on the lake instead of being confined to the shore.

His distracted thoughts are brought back to the moment by Annie's suggestion, and he nods, then heads around to the other end of the boat. They should be able to lift it up then tip it over so that it's lying on its keel.

"Ready?" he asks, once he's in position, braced to lift and push. Once she is, they do, and sure enough, the boat rocks over and tips onto its keel, sending a group of little crab-like creatures skittering out in all directions from under it.

Finnick laughs. "Look at them!"

Finnick laughs and Annie giggles, and for a moment, they might as well been five-year-olds on a beach outside their village, all delighted laughter at the sight of startled crustaceans. They aren't five, though. They don't shriek and run around, they don't try and grab any and then yelp at being nipped. Instead, even as she's giggling, Annie keeps a watch on the little creatures to make sure they don't come near her shoes. She's not wearing steel-capped boots, just walking ones, and little things can pack a nip.

Particularly if they climb up.

"Is... is that one purple?"

Delighted, Annie looks at Finnick.

"I, I mean, it's probably the most poisonous thing ever to eat, but that shell is gorgeous."

Fortunately, they don't need to worry about whether or not they can eat them. There's plenty of fish in the lake -- if this is the same lake -- many of which Finnick knows from experience to be edible.

He grins at his wife, sure in that moment that she, too, had played with crabs on the beach back in the fishery, before they'd been recruited into the Careers and left their homes to train. The purple crab, though, its shell swirled with different shades, is the prettiest one he's ever seen.

"Look at that one," he says, pointing out a little creature scuttling off towards the cover of a rock, its shell mottled with blue.

"I wonder if they dig holes like the ones at home."

She watches to catch the little crab-like things, hold them up to the sun, grab her pencils and try and capture all the colours contained in their shells. She doesn't move an inch to do so. It'd be cruel, without purpose, and she's not wearing anything to protect her from any venom they might stab her with.

Children in District Four learned that, too. Or at least, the ones who survived did.

"They're beautiful," Annie whispers, happily, then slants a look at Finnick. "I bet they do. Particularly if they are all pretty like that, they have to hide out somewhere. Or maybe there's coloured rocks and plants further out in the water."

Still, she things the burying is more likely, particularly as she looks around to try and spot any little holes left by the tide.

Are they crab mutts, or are they just a different sort of crab he's never seen before? A mutt can be beautiful and dangerous, but there are also so many creatures here that could just not live in District Four.

He wants to crouch down and peer closer at them, but he's aware that it would make him (and, by extension, Annie) more vulnerable to attack. Not from the bright colored little crustaceans, but from the other known and unknown creatures there might be this far out from the village. He takes a moment to glance around, his eyes darting around the space between Annie and the woods, scanning for threats and seeing none.

Then he looks back, watching the purple crab skitter towards Annie then away.

"There it is. That one's got one." He points ahead of it, to a spot in the shadow of a rock, where there's a hole in the ground, balls of rolled-up sand scattered around its entrance.

"Just like at home," he adds, his head tilting a little to one side with his grin.

"Put through some Capitol rainbow artistry," Annie counters. Still, the crabs have made her - briefly - happy, even as she's pondering the implications of the eco-system here. Similar in some regards to home, which is useful. There are things that would hunt crabs, and which the crabs themselves hunt.

"Should we mark this area for later?" To come back, fossick around, take what they want. Come back and repair the boats, or at least, some of them.

And, well. Mark it so if they get turned around, they know they've been here before. Which doesn't mean that their markings can't be tampered with, but that, too, will be a sign of something and anyway, Finnick has a much better memory than her. More confidence in his memory, anyway.

"That too," he agrees, lightly, glancing over at his wife with a flash of a smile. It's obvious that she's a little enchanted by the unusually pretty crabs, and he's always happy at anything that makes her light up like that.

"Good idea," he says, at her suggestion, and slips a knife out of his pocket. He finds a tree standing on the very shore of the lake and cuts a cross into its bark at chest height, where both of them will be able to easily find it if they find themselves back here.

"Tthink there's anything else we need to do here, or should we keep moving?" he asks.

There doesn't seem to be much that's immediately usable in the remnants of the boats, but they'll be worth coming back for. Especially if their concentration here means that this is -- or was -- a good spot to fish.

"Keep moving." They can come back if they run into difficulty, after all, and while there's nothing on their tail, she wants to get back home. Home is safe(r), home has protection from the elements, and home has their birds.

So they walk. Both of them are fit, athletic, with a high endurance which means they can keep going and going and going. Which they do. Not in a mad rush, but in a steady pace that means they keep up a good pace while still being aware of their surroundings. Sometimes Annie calls a pause because of a potential threat, sometimes Finnick does; nothing attacks, nothing strikes them of a large predator, or poisonous plant, but it pays to be careful.

They walk, and they walk, and Annie calls a stop. She means to ask Finnick about fresh water, but then she freezes and motions him to crouch down next to her.

"See that? South-west, did that tree move?"

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here we go again [Homeward Bound]

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