During the last games that Haymitch had participated in, he had suffered through and walked away with worse injuries than a smattering of boils covering his hands and wrists. The pain that crept over his skin was nothing compared to the white-hot, burning sensation of being cut open like a freshly gutted deer. Back then, there had been a raw determination inside of him, something that had forced him to continue until the end, to not let the Capitol win. This time, there was none of that and while Haymitch's stance on the Capitol and President Snow still hadn't changed, most of his motivation for staying alive was sitting right next to him, her sure and capable hands looking his own over. There was real concern in her eyes, a worry that knitted her eyebrows together and Haymitch wished that he could ease those fears.
While Katniss decided on their next course of action, Haymitch made a point not to argue with her. He stayed quiet as she drew some tarp from her bag and cut a section of cloth away from her pants, along with some rope to hold everything in place. He held his hand out to her, biting back a hiss as the smooth fabric became too much for his blistered skin. Being cut open and holding in his guts was one thing, but chronic discomfort quickly ebbed at morale. If Haymitch was going to continue to be his barely pleasant self, Peeta was going to have to intervene and send him something.
“Thanks,” he said when Katniss had finished, blue eyes looking over the makeshift bandage. The blisters were still lighting him up with pain, but Haymitch knew there wasn't much else that could be done. He offered the dark-haired girl a small, grateful smile before getting to his feet and surveying their new surroundings. He had to admit, this was much better than the deadly marshes, and it was hard to tell what else could have been waiting for them in the water. “At least it's dry,” he added and reached to pick up the backpack that he'd set down upon their arrival. To the south, Haymitch could still see the mist—silent and toxic as it continued to hover over the wetlands.
In front of them, however, were small clumps of trees and greener areas of grass that surely spelled dinner. Their first day in the arena would shortly come to a close now that the sun had almost made its way across the sky—finding food and shelter for the night was imperative. “We can probably make camp there too,” he said, falling into step beside Katniss as they continued on.
The trek across the newest area was deceptive and landmarks that looked close enough, doable, were much farther than Haymitch had anticipated. His hands were still giving him trouble, and it was difficult for the former Victor to leave the boils be. Once he and Katniss stopped to share some water from the canteen, Haymitch was loosening his bandage. “See any animals?” he asked, not wanting to resort to their chocolate ration for the night. When the half-full canteen was passed back to him, Haymitch dampened the section of cloth and pressed the cool fabric to his hands. There was instant relief, small puffs of smoke left his skin before the boils were gone entirely. “Well, that solves one problem,” he said, his tone unimpressed as he repeated the process on the other affected areas.
Running all the way back to the starting point of the arena was tough when they had already come so far, but there was no other way out of the mist. After the pain that Gale had experienced by just a single wisp touching his forehead, Prim didn't want to take her chances by going through it. As they ran, she kept a tight hold on Gale's hand, feeling the uneven sway of his feet and she prayed that he wouldn't fall down—if he did, he was done for and the blonde didn't think she could handle being on her own so soon. Pushing those thoughts from her mind the same way she pushed herself to run, Prim continued on toward the barrier, able to see the radio tower growing closer.
Finally, they had found themselves a bit of shelter, and the mist had stopped in its tracks from one area to the next. The building that they found themselves in wasn't much of anything but Prim didn't have time to look around as Gale fell to his knees and attempted to catch his breath. She knelt down beside him, a look of concern on her face as she touched her hand to his back. “Let me look at it,” she requested softly, hoping that no careers were lurking nearby. The makeshift town almost felt as unsafe as being out in the open, and Prim was hardly okay with the possibility of being cornered, waiting like sitting ducks.
Soon enough, her breathing returned to normal and Prim crouched down by Gale as he leaned back against the wall. There was a cool breeze filtering in through the smashed out window, providing some relief from the damp sweat that was currently shining on her skin. However, Prim ignored her own discomfort and reached out to cup Gale's face in her hands, looking at the cluster of boils that were currently marring his otherwise flawless skin. “It's not bleeding, but...” she trailed off, watching with a frown as Gale touched his wound. She fought the urge to smack his hand away.
Offering a sympathetic smile, Prim couldn't say that she felt the same. There was no part of her that wanted to see Gale hurt, and she was sorry that it was him and not her. “All night?” Prim asked, wary of the plan as she dug through the backpack that Gale had set down. “The sun isn't even down yet—that's a long time to just...sit here.” The building they were in was home to an upstairs, but not having a clear exit wasn't something that Prim wanted to deal with. At the very least, the outside was quiet for the moment and the momentary peace allowed her to concentrate.
Picking up one of her knives, Prim slashed off the end of her shirt sleeve and opened up the seam so that the fabric provided more surface area. After, she balled up the cloth and got it wet with some water from the canteen and used it to clean the area around Gale's head. Much to her surprise, the blisters were quickly vanishing. “Does that feel better?” she asked, unsure if Gale could feel any relief or difference.
