"The Hunger Games is becoming boring. Primarily because of its predictability. Put twenty-four teens in an arena and tell them that the only way to survive is to kill each other and you will get glory and gore; the thrilling drama. But put twenty-four teens in an area who have no idea why they are in there and you get so much more."
It felt like waking up from a dream, except that she couldn't remember anything from the dream. Actually, Katniss didn't remember anything pertaining to how where she was and even how she got there. She could hear the sound of water flowing and the feel the mossy, wet ground beneath her before she even had the strength to open her eyes.
She assumed that she was alone; why wouldn't she? But the sound of movement close enough to her that she could tell which direction it came from, made her realize that she wasn't. She turned, while attempting to sit up, to see confused, green eyes wandering around the scene, only to land or her a millisecond later.
The two teens stared at each other in silence, taking in each other appearance. The boy looked young, and Katniss reckoned that he could be no older than seventeen, maybe sixteen. But they were dressed in similar clothes and the boy rested on a spear that was scattered on the ground.
Katniss assessed herself and realized that she, unlike the boy, had no form of weapon within her reach, and that bothered her deeply. Her mind started running at thousand miles per hours, going over several possible scenarios, and how she could respond to them.
She hated being defenseless and here she was in the forest - not remembering how she got there - with a boy who had his hand near a spear.
Katniss kept her eyes glued on the boy, anxious about any sudden movement that he would make. However, the boy's eyes soon diverted from her and landed behind her. He opened his mouth, "Who's he?"
It took Katniss a few second to register what he just asked and decide that she should take her eyes away from him to see who the mysterious 'he' was. Turning her eyes, towards her other side, she say another boy - young, although his body was so bulky and developed, it made Katniss doubt how old he was. He, unlike, the other boy and Katniss, had his eyes shut and was dead to the world.
"Is he dead?" The boy whispered, hoping that Katniss would give him an answer.
Katniss looked back around to see the boy hand grip the spear that was within his reach, and as that a cue, Katniss sprang to her feet, in defence.
"Woah," The boy attested. "Calm down, scaredy cat." He teased, peering up on her.
Katniss didn't dare to let down her guard, preparing to run in any second.
The boy slowly released the spear from his grip, although making sure that it was right beside him before standing up. "Ok, no spear." He declared, holding his hands up.
Katniss looked down at the spear on the ground and then back up to the boy's face. Was this some kind of trick?
"You know, you need to calm down." He recommended in a teasing tone. "I can't imagine how tiring it must be to assume that everyone is out to hurt you, after just meeting them."
Katniss kept her thoughts to herself from some more second before replying, "I just woke up with no recollection of how I got here, with you next to me, with a spear. What do you want me to assume?"
"That I am in the same position as you?" The boy answered. "And if that guy is alive?" He nodded to the boy who was still on the ground.
Still unmoving, the boy shook his head before moving over to the boy on the ground. Stooping down, he moved his hand to the boy's neck.
"He has a pulse." The boy informed Katniss.
Katniss said nothing. Not knowing how to reply, after all she just woke up in the forest with a boy who seemed way too trusting and a boy who was out cold, but still alive.
"What do you think happened?" Katniss asked, hesitantly.
The boy scoffed. "Do you really expect me to understand the answer to that question?"
Katniss, reassessing her question, realized how stupid it was. He most likely was telling the truth about not being able to remember anything similarly to her.
Katniss turned around, taking in their surroundings. They were among trees, but there was also a small pond a few feet from them.
Katniss started to walk away, but the boy who name she didn't know, shouted "What do you think you're doing?"
Katniss turned around. " I am going to see if I can find my way back."
Like earlier, their eyes were glued to each other.
"Back where? We are in the middle of nowhere." He stood up.
"Well, if I don't try to find a way back to District 12, we will be stuck here all night."
"Wait?" The boy asked. "You're from District 12?"
Katniss nodded promptly, despite thinking about how ridiculous his question was, but she soon realized that she have never seen the boy in front of her before. Although, that wasn't saying much. District 12 was small, however, Katniss never had the time or cared enough to talk to or make friends with many of her the teens her age in the district. Plus, she was from the Seam and the boy in front of her, judging from his physical health,and his manner, she could tell that most likely he was one of those well off teens whose parents owned a business in town.
"I'm from the Seam." Katniss explained, hoping that will address any confusion he had about not knowing her.
"I don't really know what a Seam is, but ok?" He replied.
Katniss was shocked. Was this boy so pampered and sheltered that he didn't even know the name for the less well-off section of Twelve? Katniss shook her head in disbelief.
"That's interesting." The boy muttered to himself loudly. "You're from 12, I'm from 1 and he's -" He paused.
"You're not from 12?" Katniss asked.
The boy shook his head. "Why would you assume that I was from 12?"
"Because-" Katniss started but found herself with no words. Looking around, she expressed, "Then where are we?"
Peeta had a headache. He were used to having headache, although this was far by the worst headache he ever recalled having. However, his headache was the least of his problem, when he opened his eyes to a silver knife at his throat and someone straddling him.
"One move, and I'll make it deep enough that you bleed out slowly."
The voice was light, but was so stern that Peeta didn't dare move.
The person leaned forward and Peeta's eyes meet large, dark brown ones. They glared intensely at him.
Peeta opened his mouth to speak, but reconsidered when he the knife pressed deeper into his throat, but did not slice it.
"Did I tell you, you can speak?" The girl spoke again.
Peeta froze.
"Who are you?" The girl asked.
Still in shock, Peeta said nothing.
"Speak!" She barked in his face.
"I-I'm Peeta." He stuttered, hoping that was what she wanted to know.
"Well, Peeta. Why the hell am I in the forest with you?" She replied.
"I-I don't know." Peeta answer promptly.
"Wrong answer." She rebutted, pressing down on the knife more.
Peeta stopped breathing. He had no doubt that the girl wouldn't kill him.
"I'm sorry." He cried.
"Aww, you think crying-" She started, but the next second she was stiff on the dirt, the knife flung from her still hand.
Peeta quickly moved to his feet and dropped the sizable rock in his hand.
He got to see the girl who earlier held a knife at his throat. She was small in frame, much smaller than him, but he could tell that she was in her teens, no younger than fourteen. He wondered what fourteen year old had no second thoughts about killing someone, but soon he realized the situation that perhaps like him, she couldn't remember how she got her and was scared. However, that did not justify holding a knife to his neck.
Two blood trail trickle down the side of her face and Peeta realizing how hard he might have hitted her, rushed to her side, checking for a pulse. He sighed in relief to feel a slow, but sure pulse at the side of her neck. She was alive. That was a blessing and curse in itself, because although Peeta was relieved of the guilt that came with thought of killing another human, he knew that when she woke up that she most likely slit his throat without any hesitation. His logical mind was telling him to get away as far as possible before she had the chance of waking up, but his more thoughtful side looked around his surroundings and decided that leaving her defenseless in the forest, when it was getting dark was not a nice thing to do. His internal struggle ended with him, picking up the knife that was flung from her hands, and searching her body for any other hidden weapon. He was sure to not touch any part of her body that would violate her personal privacy. All he had to do now was to wait for her to wake up.
Finch was conflicted, which was a state she hated to be in. She was overall a decisive person, but it was not showing now. She was suppose to leave hours ago, but instead she have been pacing back and forth, waiting, looking at them, waiting and pacing some more. She hated being decisive, but she hated not knowing things even more, and write now she knew nothing. She didn't remember how she got there. She didn't know where she was. She didn't who the two teens laying on the ground were or if they were going to wake up anytime soon. But she didn't want to leave. She might be clever, but bravery wasn't a strength of Finch. It was getting dark and the thought of wandering through the forest by herself was not excited to her. So, she stayed. Looking at them, waiting, pacing. She looked and analyzed their every detailed so much that she felt she already knew so much about them.
There was the olive-skin boy, who wore a woven bracelet on his right wrist. He was young, probably sixteen, maybe fifteen. His hands were rough and chapped, which made Finch assume that he was most likely poor. His face was average, his only interesting feature being his glowing tan. In contrast, the girl was anything but average. Even in her seeming lifeless state, her blonde hair soiled with dirt and her dry lips, she still looked like attractive. She somehow reminded Finch of the fairy tale legend called Sleeping Beauty. Finch could not resist reaching out and running her fingers through the girl's yellow hair but quickly retracted her hand, fearing how creepy she would seem if they the girl woke up to see her running her hands through her hair. In addition, her body was developed much more that Finch's and Finch couldn't help but assume that either the girl was older than her, or perhaps puberty have been kinder to her.
A groan indicated that one of the two was walking up. Finch glimpsed closely to see that it was the boy. She thought about what she should say or what she shouldn't say. She wasn't the best in the social department and Finch hoped that her social awkwardness wouldn't show, much.
At first the boy didn't notice her, being busy observing his surrounding and gripping his right arm in pain, using that as a cue to start the conversation, Finch spoke up, "Are you alright?"
His head quickly turned in her direction, and Finch could tell that he was shocked seeing her standing there.
"Who are you?" He asked.
"My name is Finch." She introduced herself, stepping forward. The boy leaned away from her, causing Finch to stop in her tracks. Of course, he would be wary about her approaching him.
"You don't remember anything, do you?" She implored.
When he made no signs of answering her, she answered her own question. "It's ok. I don't remember anything either."
"Where are we?" He continued to ask questions.
Finch shrugged. She guess it would not have been a bad idea to explore the surrounding beforehand, so that she could get some clues about where they were, but as mentioned earlier, bravery wasn't her strongest suit. Despite her confident manner in most situation, deep down she was insecure and scared about most things.
"I'm sorry about your arm." Finch expressed, trying to fill the silence.
The boy peered up at her. His eyes filled with curiosity, before his eyes caught the body of the girl near his.
"Who is she?" He asked, trying to get a better view of the girl.
Again, Finch shrugged, and the feeling of not knowing things bothered her deeply once again. "She haven't woken up yet."
"How long have you been up?" The boy turned his attention back to Finch.
"Not long." Finch lied. "A few minutes before you woke up."
The boy nodded. Looking into his eyes, Finch realized that his eyes were very light brown. She liked them. A second later, she realized how ridiculous that statement was; liking someone eyes.
"How long do you think I'll take her to wake up?" He nodded towards the girl on the ground.
"Not long, I hope." Finch whispered, more to herself than to the boy.