The floor was slippery with moss and decaying bodies. I placed a trembling hand onto the slim covered wall as the sun's light and warmth left the room. Over in the west, he sound of the raid could be heard. The raids were often and lasted longer than district 9's endless winter nights. In the distance, a twig snapped under the pressure of a foot. I turned and fled. Out of the room and into the forest. The price for being caught out after hours was death or, on rare occasions, immediate entrance into the hunger games. But I didn't care. I wanted to get away. I had to get away. I was half a mile from the room and still running. Each breath became harder and harder to draw, But I had to keep going. I had to.
"Ava, where are you goin'?" I stopped dead in my tracks. Turned. How many times have I told Fisk not to do that?
"Don't," I shouted with a high voice as I struggled for breath, "ever creep up on me again! I thought you were a peacekeeper!"
"Seriously?" my friend enquired "why would I be one of them, I mean look at their outfits and tell me, would I ever be seen dead in that? Urgh." Trust Fisk to come out with something like that. Before I could retort, the sound I never wanted to hear reached my ears. The bombs were falling closer than before. The force of the last made the ground shake making Fisk and me scatter in search of cover.
From under the roots of the tree I heard the sound of hob-nail boots treading a few inches away from the opening of the hole. If Fisk or I get caught then, just two days away from the reaping, it would be our names being read out by that no good capitol woman for our district, Lucia Hasoldon. And what about my bow? In the district we're banned from having any form of weapon. One man was put on trial for having a pointed stick. It was absolutely pointless. The snapping of twigs in the distance brought me back to my current position. The tread of the boots were somewhat distant now, I turned my head round the corner of the branch. I could see no-one. I faced Fisk, nodding in agreement that if we were to leave, it had to be now. Slowly, edging our way out we found the path was still clear. When we were out we exchanged the same look of uncertain trust. After taking one step forward we found why it had been eerily quiet. Just up a head was a team of peacekeepers. Any sudden movements or loud noises would alert them to our presence. With cautious paces we headed left, away from the peacekeepers and towards the district. With fear filled steps and ridged legs we made our way back, retracing our earlier steps. After 100 metres I turned to Fisk who had the same worried look on his face as me.
"It's too easy." I whispered nervously to Fisk.
"Too right you are!" I turned, only to find that the peacekeepers weren't as dumb as I had hoped. "Dean, grab 'em"
Without even thinking I turned and fled. My heart was pounding. And adrenaline was coursing through my veins like wild fire. The path was long and arduous, and behind me came the pounding of heavy boots on dried out soil. I couldn't keep it up much longer. Already my strength had started to fail. And as my pace slowed so did Fisk. His once cheery face now was riddled a combination of pain and fear. But I couldn't stop. If I was caught then both of our families would suffer. The trees. The trees were my only hope now. Without thinking I stuck out my hand and made a grab for the nearest tree. The wood slammed into my palm. And with my little remaining strength hoisted myself into it. I was up. I stood there looking down at the peacekeepers. They all came to a grinding halt below my tree. There they stood gawping at me as if I was no more than one of their mocking jays. After what seemed like an eternity the peacekeepers parted and dragged forward a bloody faced Fisk. I felt heavy and weighted down with the guilt and anger that was washing over me like a stream on a rock. The mournful sound of a branch cracking underweight filled the forest. I should have chosen my tree more carefully. No way was this pine going to hold my weight. The ground came up to meet me as the branch gave way. Before I had fully regained my senses, a large hand clamped down on my shoulder pulling me up so my head was facing the horizon.
"Who are you?" demanded the peacekeeper, "the pair of you?" does he expect us to answer that? It would be like putting the last nail into my coffin. The only thing I'm worried about is Dean; he's never been a good liar and does know our names, faces and families. Dean wouldn't rat us out. Would he? He is new to the job and doesn't do well under pressure. Don't say anything I think as I push the thought towards him. Just above my ear I feel the cool sensation that only steel gives. Sweat was pouring down my face, stinging my eyes and staining my cheeks. The peacekeepers patience was wearing. I could sense that his finger was drifting down, and hovering just above the trigger. That was when Dean's face broke, all his confidence and restraint gone in an instant
"Ava Brookland and Fisk Ranger" whimpered Dean. The head peacekeeper released me from his grip making me fall forward. His thin twisted lips formed a sly smile.
"Thank you, Dean. You have been most helpful." Stated the peacekeeper flatly. "Now what should I do with you? 100 whip strokes? A pain filed death?" I hated the malicious tone to his voice. I spat in his face. Slowly he wiped away the disgrace I had forced upon him. After a second's thought, his face lifted and with a horrid pleasure in his voice he added, "Well then, I'll see you in the hunger games."