A/N: Okay so this was actually a piece of assessment I did years ago, don't ask me why I've uploaded this, I have absolutely no idea. I haven't even read through this so have fun finding my embarrassing twelvie mistakes Xx
Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games novels/movies. (you'll appreciate that I don't)
And without further adieu, I present my trash-
Why? Why do they find this amusing? Why do they think that putting innocent adolescents into an artificial arena, fighting for their already certain deaths enticing? I've had enough of the Game makers and their lust for sadistic entertainment. But what can I do? I have no say in this world. In just 60 seconds, the games begin. The games of extreme bloodshed and savage deaths. The grounds seem to be all forest and trees which is good seeing as I'm a natural-born climber. The other tributes would find it painfully difficult to catch me. 35 seconds. I'll make a run for the target as soon as the gong goes off, signalling the games. The Cornucopia is filled with weapons and supplies, not that a spear or a club will be useful to me anyway. I need something to carry food and water in, that black backpack perhaps. Why not? It's the closest and I don't want to run into a tribute anytime soon. Maybe it has food, or a water canister, or if I'm lucky; a first aid kit. 10 seconds. Now my heart is racing. Noticing that my eyes are darting back and forth between the other competitors, seeing their nervous breaths and fidgeting, I shut my eyelids and take a deep breath. In… Out... I return my focus to the Cornucopia and wait. I'm ready. Gong!
I'm scared, petrified but I run anyway as fast as my legs can carry me trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to leave my eyes. Knowing that I may be killed in this hellhole, never to return to District 11 and see my loving family again. Never to sing and dance around the house with my mother, father and five other siblings. I miss them, but this is what I have been preparing for in the last week. My mentor told me to get in and get out with the power of my agility. I'm quick, I know that, but am I quick enough? What if a tribute reaches me before I am able to escape and crushes me with their overwhelming mammoth strength? What if I'm instantly killed? I'm small and fragile, what can I do? All these questions are getting me nervous again, but remembering that I'm surrounded by woodland gives a fraction of my confidence back. My heart rate is fast but my feet are quicker. I jerk my head from side to side to see the position of the tributes checking to see if any are lunging for me like a tiger chasing a gazelle, but everyone seems to have the same goal as me for reaching the Cornucopia. I'm only a few feet away from the bag before the girl from 12 barges in. Katniss; the girl on fire. The tribute who got a score of 11. She certainly doesn't look as talented as they credited her for. She fights over the backpack with a boy from a district whose number I can't remember while I stand there like a bumbling fool just waiting for my demise.
My throat starts to ache preparing to cry as I panic in the middle of the Cornucopia. Now would be the perfect time for that water bottle. This is going to be harder than I thought since my first plan just went out the window. It's obvious that I hadn't thought this through enough. Bloody bodies, everywhere. You can hear the cries or fear and screams overpowering dominance as they slaughter each other one by one. I wouldn't be surprised if the games ended in a matter of hours. The conquerors beat, slice and strangle their kills as they practically bathe in blood. I feel sick, my head is spinning. How long has it been? Hours? Days? How long will it continue? Experiencing the games is twice the bloodshed and terror than simply watching it onscreen at home. Search for something to take. Anything! Wasn't that the whole point in me coming here in the first place? I have to find a load of supplies that is furthest away from the other tributes, but running around without thinking could get my killed. I have to be cautious. Cunning. Completely on top of my game. I have to keep telling myself; 'make it through today, Rue, make it through today'. The bags from the table at the Cornucopia have all been taken and a majority are now scattered like litter across the floor. A few of the said backpacks have been torn from the competitors, fighting over food, supplies and necessities like blankets and matches.
Catching sight of a bright sunset-orange object away from the murderous tributes, I make my way carefully, stepping vigilantly around already innocent dead souls. Just looking at their pale, lifeless faces makes me want to cry. They have families too! Doesn't the Capitol see that? I bet their perspective of this would be completely changed if one of their own children were to participate in these ruthless games. Or maybe they're just cold, heartless monsters after all. I'm here, unharmed, thank god. Just a few more steps. The other tributes seem to be distracted fighting each other or possibly some had evacuated to the bush when they got the opportunity. I turn my attention to the object and come to find a supply carrier. Yes! This is exactly what I need! Realisation hit me when I reached for the bag, stopping my heart momentarily and sending shivers down my spine. The bag I absolutely needed to obtain, was attached to the young girl of District 3 who couldn't have been much older than I am. Fighting back the tears I bite the inside of my cheek and turn my head. After regaining my composure I stripped the backpack off of her shoulders. My heart pounding, I threw the backpack over my back and searched for an undetected escape. I have to find a safe spot first before I can see what I scored in the gathering. There's an opening! Yes! Now's my chance to make a break for it. I take a deep breath. This is it.
Run, just run. That's all I can think about. Don't look back and keep moving forward. There is so many trees and bushes that I have to continuously swat branches and giant leaves from my face to be able to see in from of me. I run, run until I can no longer continue. Carrying this dense backpack on my shoulders drains my energy like a battery. Before I know it my legs have slowed and are practically dragging in the soil until I eventually came to a complete stop. I'm tired. Exhausted. I'm not even sure where I am. I know I had successfully made an escape but in which direction? And how far from the deadly Cornucopia? Was I detected? My legs ache so much and my breathing is rapid and out of proportion. I seem to be out of the other tribute's vision. I need to get off the ground, that's where I feel most safe. There is a tall thin tree with a plethora of leaves at the top. It may be skinny but it will hide me.
The branches that divide from the trunk are thin and make it easier to wrap my fingers around. I have to go higher. I'm at least seven metres above the bark and dead grass below. Just a few more metres. This height is a satisfaction and is perfect for me to rest in the fork between two branches. I stretch out my throbbing legs and sigh in relief and contentment. Is this the right time to reveal the contents of my backpack? Is it clear? I may not get this opportunity again. I unzip my bag and rummage through its supplies; a water skin, pair of socks, some nuts and roots, a slingshot and some iodine. No first aid kit, the one thing I was hoping for. At least I acquired the water bottle I wanted. I should probably fill it later tonight or early in the morning when no one is hunting for my head.
Rest, that what I need to cure my fatigue. This is all happening too fast for me. I've managed to make it through the monstrous fight at the Cornucopia unharmed physically. But mentally, it's nothing like I've ever seen before; bucket loads of blood sprayed across the arena. It's traumatising… What was that? The wind? No, wind doesn't snap twigs. 'Be quiet Rue!' I tell myself internally. It is a must to make myself as invisible as possible. Good thing it's starting to reach nightfall. The handful of branches a few feet above me have more coverage from wandering tribute eyes, but one small movement and I could be heard. I'm still uncertain of what is on the ground below. It could be a rabbit, or maybe a deer? I'm not prepared to take that chance. It's quiet again but there's a hint of struggling and heavy breathing. Maybe it was a deer? Perhaps one of the tributes is hunting, who knows? I stretch my neck and peel back the leaves that shield my face to reveal what's beneath… a silhouette of a tribute.
I have to find out which tribute it is. Whoever it is, they don't sound good. The painful moans and cries that echo through the trees and drift past my ears give me a hint that this person has indeed been in a near death situation. Knowing that they are in pain and not being able to help them is agonizing. I could help, but how do I know they won't just turn and shoot at me with whatever death weapon they have? Who's to stop them? This is the games after all. All but one is meant to die. I should be able to move down the tree to get a better view of my possible threat but I need to do it quietly and little by little. I position my feet on the branches below and slowly make my way down silently. Just a few more branches and I should be at an appropriate height for a good view, without being seen of course. The number of leaves that shelter my location are becoming fewer by the second. Hopefully the darkness of the night will hide my figure.
There it is; the distressed tribute. I peer through the lushness of the tree and reveal… no, Katniss? What's she doing here? The last time I saw her was at the Cornucopia and I don't recall her leaving. I'm relieved she made it through the bloodshed after the countdown, but I can't kill her! She gives off this… feeling that I can't describe. Is it appalling to think it would be better for her to be killed by another tribute rather than getting her blood on my hands? I don't want her to die. I don't want any of us to die! This isn't fair! I know there's no use in complaining, the games continue whether we like it or not.
A/N: Absolute regret. Hide the children.