As I step onto the metal plate, I remember my mentor's words. 'Get in there, get what you can, and get out.'
I feel the disc rising and wonder what the arena will contain. I remember watching the games one year, and the whole arena had 12 time coded attacks, like a giant clock. Yes,
that was the third Quell, the one in which several of the tributes escaped. But that was years ago. When 24 tributes played. Now there are only 22.
On my back, emblazoned in gold lettering, is the number 11, and a apple tree.
I am lifted up into the arena, and I blink as my eyes adjust to the sunlight. I turn left and right, I have 60 seconds to take in the arena. 60 seconds to assess the 21 other tributes.
60 seconds to make a plan. I scan the mouth of the Cornucopia, for anything useful. My eyes alight on a crossbow, about 2 metres away from the mouth, with a quiver of bolts next to it.
I look around the arena. The Cornucopia appears to be situated in a clearing, surrounded by thick woods. 'Good', I think to myself. Plenty of cover. The sixty seconds must be almost up by now, so I position myself to sprint in and grab what I can.
Suddenly the gong sounds, I sprint towards the Cornucopia, bending to grab a black satchelpack on the way. I am the first to reach the Cornucopia, but that still leaves the problem of getting out. And not in a hovercraft. I look around, and see a hunting knife lying in the grass a few steps away from me. I sling the crossbow over my shoulder, and swoop for the knife,
grabbing it, and slashing upwards, slicing through the District 10 boy's shoulder.
Not a fatal wound, but enough to let me get away. I jump up, and run into the woods, not stopping until the Cornucopia is far behind.