I've been here before. A long time ago. The trees are the same as they were then, untouched and tall as ever. The plain is thick in shrubs, not a single one withered.
The only thing... wait-person that looks out of place is aged and wrinkled, hair as grey as a freshly laid tombstone. Her kind smile is warped into something too big to be genuine, as if it had been stretched and set with pins.
This place suddenly feels alien, my skin begins to crawl, and I can't shake the feeling of being watched by hundreds of eyes. But all I can see is her. Just her - surrounded by a forest of hatred and death. She doesn't move; it doesn't even look like she's breathing. The dead don't breathe, but if she's standing here, how can she be dead?
We stare at one another for an extended amount of time, neither of us blinking, silence surrounding us. It's very much like watching paint dry but with the added suspense of possibly missing something life-threatening if you look away for a single second.
My eyes are beginning to ache, feeling like a desert on a blistering day, dry and void of moisture. Upon human instinct, I blink. In that mere second, she's gone from standing 20 feet away to standing a hair's length from my face, her eyes glazed and flat.
Mags was always a kind-hearted soul, putting others before herself even when it came to death. But right now, in this moment, there seemed to be not one once of warmth within her frail body. Everything about her seemed cold-hearted and empty.
My eyes dart around quickly, looking for any means of an escape, but to my horror, everywhere I look is something even more terrifying than her: savage monkeys, beetles the size of small cars, and things that I can't quite make out.
That's when it dawns on me - I've figured out why the environment is so familiar.
I'm back in the arena.
Mag's mouth opens and the voice that exudes from her is strident.
"Welcome to the 76th Hunger Games!"