Night has finally fallen. It's been a while since a cannon has gone off, and I suspect the death recap will be playing soon, though I can barely see the sky through the trees. I think I'll find some strange comfort in knowing who's left, who's still out there trying to kill me, and if Peeta is still out there with them.
I decide to stop for a moment to collect my bearings. I need to find a place to sleep tonight. The air is cold, not unbearable but the temperature is dropping fast. It's going to be a cold night. Thank goodness I picked up that sleeping bag.
I close my eyes and listen for whatever creatures may be out there. I make out a few distant hoots and realize I'll be competing for rabbits and other small animals. Tomorrow, I'll find a place to set some traps. I can hear Haymitch telling me to find food and water right away, and for once, I agree. I'd rather do that than deal with the other tributes, anyway.
After resting a couple of minutes, I continue walking away from the Cornucopia. I want to get as much distance as I can from the other tributes before I settle down for the night. Just another hour and it will be too dark to continue. In spite of the adrenalin, I think I'll sleep better than most of the others thanks to my sleeping bag. That will give me an advantage tomorrow. I should get an early start.
Suddenly, my thoughts are brought back to the present by the sound of a cannon. Another death. Who was it? I decide to ignore it. We'll all find out who's dead soon enough. What if it was Peeta? I can't let myself think about that. I take a deep breath and keep moving. More distance. A place to sleep. That's all I can let myself think about right now.
After walking for a few minutes, I see a light through the trees to my left, about thirty yards away. It looks like a campfire. I climb a tree to get a clearer view, but the trees are too dense to see through, so I climb back down, being careful not to make a sound. I could get closer, but I don't know who may be there. Without any weapons, it's not worth the risk to investigate.
Just as I'm about to turn away, I see something out of the corner of my eye, illuminated by the fire's dim glow. Crouching down next to the tree I just climbed, I look more closely, hoping it isn't a tribute. But it is, and he's next to what looks like another tribute's dead body. It only takes a moment to realize which tribute I've spotted.
Shia LaBeouf.
I tell myself he didn't see me, and I silently turn to leave. Taking a deep breath, I step slowly away. Shia's a Career, so he's probably got weapons. He was good with a knife and an axe in the training arena, and I'm sure he either picked them up at the Cornucopia or killed whoever did.
After a few steps, I hear twigs snapping behind me. Please, no, he didn't hear, I think. I quickly turn my head and see him following me, about thirty feet back. My heart drops and I freeze. He stares back at me and I can see the moon reflecting off his wide, wild eyes. He swiftly gets down on all fours and breaks into a sprint.
I find this bizarre, but there's no time to think about it. Thankfully, instinct kicks back in, and I, too, break into a sprint. Fear is replaced once again with adrenalin as I weave through the trees. The darkness slows me down, and I can hear from the leaves and branches behind me that he's gaining on me.
Minutes that feel like seconds pass by and I can hear his heavy, animalistic panting getting louder, getting closer. He's almost upon me now. I don't know how much longer I can run like this. I can sprint short distances, but now my legs are burning from exhaustion. Remembering that I'm still wearing my backpack, I quickly take it off and drop it behind me, hoping to trip him.
I look back to see if I succeeded, but it didn't slow him down. Was that blood on his face? I turn back around to confirm what I suspected. Looking at his clothes, I see that the blood isn't just on his face. There's blood everywhere. But he doesn't appear hurt. In his hand, I see a bloodstained knife. It feels strange to look at a weapon and know that it will probably be used to kill me.
All of that blood must belong to the tribute he killed by the fire, but no swing of an axe would produce that much blood. I realize that he didn't simply kill the tribute: he was eating the body. It explains why he was crouched over the body and the wild look in his eyes. I knew something wasn't right when I found him.
What about the Gamemaker? Why aren't they stopping him like they did Titus a few years back? They don't want a lunatic to win. I hope they do something to stop him, slow him down at least. If I do die in these Games, I don't want my body to be eaten. Prim can't see that.
Moments later, my wishes are answered. I hear a tree crack and begin to fall. It's just a few seconds ahead of me. If I'm going to have any chance of getting some distance from Shia, I have to make it to the other side before it falls. It's falling quickly, so I duck underneath it and collapse to the ground as it crashes just a few feet behind me. The branches have trapped me in, but I break my way through and continue running. Without looking back, I no longer hear Shia LaBeouf.
No cannon. He's not dead. Hopefully, he's trapped under the tree, but what if he isn't? Going back could be suicide. I decide to keep running. After ten minutes or so, I can't run any more. Thankfully, there's no sign of Shia. I don't know how much time has passed, and I don't know if the death recap was played. I was so preoccupied with trying to escape that I could easily have missed it. Now I don't even know who's left. Is Peeta still alive?
Sleep is the most important thing now. Shia won't find me if I hide myself well enough. I begin checking the area around me to see if there's a good place to spend the night. All I can hear is the forest around me. The leaves in the wind, the owls, the crickets, the soft rippling of water in the distance. It all sounds so oddly peaceful.
Finally, water, I think. Haymitch is probably pleased as he's watching me right now. It's too dark to see where it is, but I can follow the sound. I suddenly become conscious of the fact that my backpack and sleeping bag are gone. It's going to be a cold night. Still, I hear water, and so there's hope.
After resting on a rock for a minute or two, I get up and begin moving straight towards the sound of the water. I can rest again when I get there. Right now, all I can focus on is how thirsty I am. It's so dark out now that I can hardly see anything, which makes me uneasy. What if there's someone hiding out here, waiting for me? My thoughts are quickly scattered by the sound of a snap at my feet and a blinding pain in my leg. It's caught in a bear trap.
I writhe in pain and choke on my own screams, putting all of my effort into staying quiet. Whoever set this trap may be nearby, and my only chance is to hope that they don't hear. After a moment, I fall to my knees and begin shaking violently, tears blurring my vision. The pain just gets worse and worse. I manage to wipe the tears away for long enough to get a good look at the trap, and I see that it nearly cut clean through my leg, just above the ankle. If only it did, I could get out of here.
As I kneel with my fist in my mouth, biting through my skin as I try to stifle my screams, I realize I have very little control over my muscles. If anybody is going to kill me, now is the time. I couldn't be more vulnerable. Still, no knife stabs my back, no sword severs my head, and it becomes evident that nobody knows I'm stuck in this trap. Not yet. It takes several minutes before I can regain some composure. I slowly begin to figure out what to do.
The pain is so unbearable I wish I could die. But I have no way to kill myself, and if I just wait here or scream, what if Shia finds me? Death at Shia's hands might be more painful than starvation. Besides, I can't break my promise to Prim. I have to try to get free.
I try to open the trap, but it's too strong. It won't budge. I quickly realize that my only viable option is to sever my leg. I try to clamp the trap shut tighter, hoping that it will cut the rest of the way through, but I don't have the strength. Examining my leg more carefully, I see that the trap broke the bone, but couldn't cut all the way through the flesh.
I have no knife, no tool for cutting the rest of the way through. Could I gnaw my way through? That seems crazy. But what's the alternative? Waiting for certain death, maybe torture? That seems crazier. A few more minutes pass as I try to think of a better plan, but nothing comes to mind. I have to do it.
Slowly, agonizingly, I bend down and begin to bite through the remaining flesh. I still have to stifle a scream with every bite, and I fear passing out from the pain. Quiet, quiet, I remind myself.
It doesn't take long to finish. I rest for a moment, then tear off my left sleeve and wrap it around the bottom of my leg to try to stop the bleeding and to protect it. I look around, and grateful that nobody is here, I stand up. Putting pressure on the stump leg feels as painful as stepping in the trap all over again.
I have no choice. In spite of the pain, I have to move on. Someone will return to this trap, and I can't be here when they do. Reluctantly, I take my first few excruciating steps away from the trap, limping toward the water. I want to scream every time I put pressure on the stump leg. Quiet, quiet, I remind myself.
After a few minutes, I can finally see the stream. The thought of being able to properly wash my leg, rest, and drink some water comforts me. I keep walking closer and closer, and soon, that comfort fades. I see the outline of Shia LaBeouf by the stream.
How did he get here so quickly? Maybe I spent more time dealing with the trap than I thought. How long has he been here? It looks like he's been here a while. I crouch behind a bush and peer around the edge and observe him sharpening an axe. He doesn't seem to have noticed me.
I could turn to leave, but that didn't work out well the last time I tried. The sound of the stream seems loud enough to mask the sound of my approach, and so I decide to use this to my advantage. I doubt there would be any better opportunity to sneak up on him. Hopefully he's tired from the chase, too.
As I get closer, I see that he has put the axe down in front of him and begun sharpening his knife, still bloodstained. As I'm about five feet back, I see gashes in his neck. This blood actually belongs to him. Maybe that tree did more damage to him than it did to me. Now at least some of the blood on him is actually his. Could he be as weary as I am?
He hasn't reacted to my presence yet, but I know I still have to act quickly. I'll take the knife with one hand and put him in a headlock with the other arm. It's risky, but it's my best chance at killing him. Either I'll strangle him or I'll get the knife and stab him. I wonder what Haymitch would think of this plan, but I quickly dismiss this thought. If I turn back now, Shia might hear me and kill me with my back turned.
Without wasting any more time thinking, I sharply grab his knife with my right hand and wrap my left arm around his neck, squeezing as hard as I can. He jumps, clearly surprised, and immediately begins putting up a fight. Thankfully, he's not the strongest of the Careers, and I manage to keep his breathing cut off.
He wriggles free enough to gasp for air a couple of times, but neither time lasts more than a second. He begins kicking and swinging his free arm towards me, but he can't make solid contact. He tries to flip me over his back, but I saw him do this in the training arena, and I'm prepared for it. Before he can get the leverage, I kick in the backs of his knees and he falls to the ground.
I take this moment of weakness to pull his knife hand back. Without releasing my arm from his neck, I put more energy into wrestling the knife from him. Slowly, I inch the knife closer and closer to his side.
Stab it in his kidney, I tell myself. With a sharp thrust of my right arm, I use all of my strength to drive the knife into his side. With my other arm still strangling him, no sound escapes his mouth as the life begins leaving his body. He jerks in place a few times before he gradually stops resisting. Soon, he stops moving altogether.
I'm safe at last from Shia LaBeouf. I stare at his body for a moment, but decide that I can't think about what I just did. I have to move on, there will be plenty of time to think about it later. I turn to leave and decide to follow the stream. Blood oozes from my stump leg as I walk with my good leg in the stream, but I try to take some solace in knowing that I have beaten Shia LaBeouf.
After a few more steps, I stop walking. Was there a cannon? I don't remember hearing one. What if he's still alive? If so, I should finish the job. I turn back around to check on his body, but instead of seeing a dead or half-dead body on the ground, he's alive. Standing right behind me, he's got an axe to my head and death in his eyes.
I see the knife is still in his side. Without a moment's hesitation, I reach for it. He tries to draw the axe back, but the momentum makes him take too long, and I grab the knife and wrench it from his side, spilling blood as I do. He's stunned by the pain and drops the axe.
It lands next to him, and he's still recovering from the pain of taking the knife out of his side. It'll only be a few seconds before he pulls himself together, picks the axe back up and kills me with it. I have to act quickly. I grab the axe myself, swinging it towards him. The blade whistles as it misses his head by an inch. He dodged it.
I stay on the offensive. Haymitch is probably scolding me right now for fighting on Shia's terms, so far out of my element, but I don't care. I wasn't going to get a better chance to kill Shia. Nobody was.
Swing after swing, he dodges just like he did in the training arena. Suddenly, I have a thought. He'd move more slowly, more sluggishly in water, so all I have to do is push him back to the stream. So, with each swipe, I push him a little bit closer to the water. It's hard to balance with blood oozing fast from my stump leg, but we keep getting closer to the stream until we're eventually both in a foot or so of water.
My plan works. He can't dodge as easily. At last, just as my energy was beginning to run out, one of my swipes catches him in the neck. As the axe lodges itself in his flesh, I pause, and then drive the axe further into his neck. But I don't stop there. I can't stop there. I keep swinging, chopping off his head, making absolutely sure to kill him this time. Blow by blow, I cut deeper and deeper until at last, his head topples into the stream, expressionless. I have just decapitated Shia LaBeouf, I think. Again, I decide not to let myself think about the fact that I just killed someone, though it's helpful to know that I'm capable of killing without a bow and arrow.
I fall to my knees, now waist-deep in the water, and catch my breath. I hear a cannon, and I close my eyes and let out my first sigh of relief since the Games started. I am finally safe from Shia LaBeouf.