Hey everyone! This is my first story ever, so I hope you like it. Reviews are welcome! Also, I don't own anything.
Rue's View
I wander through the trees, the dappled sunlight against the trunks giving me a feeling of peace and serenity. But I know that feeling is just that; a feeling. This is the Hunger Games; anything and everything will probably try to kill you. Like this morning. The Gamemakers sent us a wall of fire, which you could evade – or die trying.
As I continue to walk, I start noticing the different kinds of trees here: oak, maple, birch, ash. How ironic, I think, as my gaze falls on the grey cloak draped upon everything. Everything, except the mockingjays; their black wings flash across my vision, tipped with white. How free they must feel! They have no part in these Games – they don't even do anything to any of the Tributes! Every Tribute but me, I mean. For me, the mockingjays are a reminder of home. Like now; as I sing my four-note melody, they repeat it. The notes overlap as more and more birds start singing, their voices making a beautiful harmony. I stop in a clearing, and let the melody surround me as I scan the trees. And stop.
And look again.
Yes, yes it is. Sitting almost innocently, just above a fork in the branches, is a wasp's nest. And there are more. It could be just a normal leave-us-alone-and-we'll-leave-you-alone wasp nest. But I doubt it. This is the Hunger Games; nothing is normal. They're more likely to be Tracker-Jackers – mutant wasps developed by the Capitol's scientists. If you're stung by one, you die, or experience vivid hallucinations. There are still loads of nests back in the orchards. Just like there are loads of nests in the tree. As I stand, staring, I hear pounding; the pounding of feet against ground. I have a minute until the Careers find me, unless I –
"Move," I tell myself, and dart to the tree opposite the one with the Tracker-Jackers. Not a second too soon. Just as I'm disappearing up the trunk, I see her; a girl, struggling with her leg. Then the pieces fit together in my head and I realize its Katniss Everdeen, the girl Tribute for District 12. Katniss, I think incredulously, what is she doing here? However, she doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement, and I belatedly remember the Careers. I scramble up the rest of the tree, finding a place to observe what's happening below.
I see the Careers surrounding the base of the tree, staring at Katniss. She's staring back. I'm watching them, until I realize exactly what tree Katniss climbed. Oh Katniss, I think, what have you done? Because Katniss unwittingly chose the tree full of Tracker-Jacker nests, and is trapped between them and the Careers. But she hasn't realized. In fact, she started climbing again when one of the Careers started up the tree. She keeps climbing, pausing only when the brute from District 2 falls and adds several colourful words to my vocabulary. When the girl from District 1 fires arrows at Katniss, she pulls one out from where it was lodged in the tree trunk to wave it teasingly above her head.
The careers convene at the bottom of the trunk, and discuss what to do with her until one calls out, "Oh, let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning." I do a double take. It's the boy from her District. While I've been staring dumbfounded at him, Katniss has set herself up for the night, and – she has a sleeping bag? My eyes widen in disbelief. She must not have to worry about the cold at all. I am certain now she has no idea of the danger she is in. I could just leave now. There is nothing keeping me here. She has nowhere to go. But she shifts, and I catch a glimpse of her token from her District. A gold pin, but that's not the part I'm interested in. No, I'm interested in the bird on the pin; it's a mockingjay, in mid-flight. And I know then that I can trust her.
She looks to me, in a passing glance, but then focuses, and stares as hard as she can. I know that this might be the only chance I get, so as carefully and quietly as possible, I slide my hand into the open, and point to the Tracker-Jacker nest. She looks up, and for a while doesn't seem to recognize it. Then she stiffens in fear, and I know she has realized what it is.
My job done, I hide back in my tree and lay down to sleep, listening to the strains of the anthem as I pull my sleeping socks onto my hands. Then I am carried away into dreams of before the reaping; playing with my siblings, talking with my father, listening to my mother singing in her beautiful honey voice.
I am pulled out of the game I played a week before the Reaping by the sound of a bird warbling near my head. I have just got my supplies in order when I hear my name called in a hushed whisper. I look at Katniss, who makes a sawing motion with her knife. I nod; to laugh now would spell death, and leap away, from tree to tree. I want to laugh at the audacity of it. She is going to saw the branch off, the branch with the Tracker-Jacker nest, and it will drop into the oh-so-perfectly-placed Career camp. As funny as it is, I get well away; I am not going to die today. As a cacophony of screams erupts, shattering the early-morning calm, I know I made the right choice in running. I hesitantly head back to my tree from last night, wanting to see if Katniss is okay. I stay back though; I will survive in these Games, if it's the last thing I do.
This story has the weirdest beginning - I had to write it for class! I know, insane, right. Anyway, I'd love to hear any feedback you might have, even if you hated it.
Later people!
Luna's little noodle