I'm being chased through the woods—the air foggy and thick, making it hard to breath, and the sun beating down, causing me too sweat and tire quickly—by another tribute who wields an ax.
Unfortunately, they're a faster runner than me and it's easy for them to decrease the distance between us. Since outrunning them is not an option I decide to find a tree to climb—I just hope they can't climb too. It's not really the smartest option, but I'm running on pure adrenaline and the fact that I could die right now.
I see a tree a few yards ahead with branches low enough for me to reach and power myself a little harder—it's not enough to get away though. The other tribute is right on my heels and yanks my hair hard. I yelp in pain and draw my knife—I was saving it for a moment like this; to take them by surprise. I turn slightly to the side and stab it forward hitting they're stomach, but not deep enough to cause fatal damage. It does slow them down though and I run as fast as I can for the tree.
I reach the trunk and push with my feet—and pull with my hands—as hard as I can; climb faster than I've ever climbed before. I'm about eight feet up when I feel a severe pain in my right leg. I look down at it and find an ax in it, blood pouring fast from the wound. I scream, so hard my lungs feel like they're on fire, out of pain and fear.
It is, at that moment, I wake and shoot straight up in my bed. I'm sweating buckets even though it's freezing in my house. I rip off the covers and run my hand over my leg—perfectly intact. It was just a dream, I tell myself over and over, but it felt so real.