I listen to a conversation between Cato and Clove, sharpening my rock as I do. I sigh, soundlessly. This stupid rock is the only weapon I have. I have ashamed myself, a contestant as strong as me should have a wealth of weapons at hand by this stage in the games. A good knife or sword could go a long way right now. I could barge in and kill these two in that clearing whenever I felt like it, as long as I had the element of surprise. Instead, I sit and wait for nightfall, when I can kill them in their sleep.
I hear Clove announce that she wants to attempt to get some rest, and watch her head off into the forest. They must have a camp in there. I wonder whether now is my chance. The sun's still up, but with only one of them present, I could run in behind Cato, kill him and then run away before Clove emerges again. On the other hand, I could scout out their camp, kill Clove in her sleep and head back for Cato. That sounds like the better plan.
Just as I get to my feet, I hear the trumpets. Claudius announces that something we all desperately need is waiting for us at the cornucopia, in a marked backpack. A weapon, I hope. I consider rushing in instantly to get to my place near the clearing, but decide to spend the night where I am. I hear Clove and Cato plan out an attack. She'll go for the pack and he'll stay, waiting in the wings. My plan is ruined, as Cato and Clove spend the night together, meaning neither of them can be cornered.
I don't sleep that night. Instead, I sit up considering what my backpack could contain. A weapon was my initial idea, but I reconsider that. The Capitol must be enjoying watching a contestant with the only means of defence being a rock and brute strength. I decide a weapon would be irrelevant. After all, I am by far the strongest in the arena
Once the sun starts to rise, I head for the cornucopia. This is it, I think. As I reach the clearing, I notice that nothing is happening. I sit and wait, and eventually a small table rises from the ground, with four backpacks on top, varying in size. The one marked eleven is one of the larger ones, which could only be a good sign, right?
As soon as the hole closes up beneath the table, I spot the small district five girl dart to the table, and rush back toward the trees. An admiration for her cunning strikes me, but I immediately brush it off. I sit and wait, wondering whether or not to run, when I spot another figure enter the clearing, the Fire Girl. She sprints for the table and grabs her pack just as a knife flies through the air towards her. She fires an arrow in my direction and I duck instincively, but then realise she is firing at Clove, who must be about ten metres to my left. I hear Clove yelp. Another knife flies and this time the Fire Girl staggers back, her face flooding with red, and then Clove is on top of her.
They look like easy prey. Both are facing away from me, and are too engaged in their brawl to notice me at the edge of the clearing. Then I hear something I recognise. Clove is talking about Rue, saying her name like you would say the name of the school idiot. A growl escapes my lips.
Rue was always my friend, back in district 11. We used to work together in the orchard, and would pass each other most days, when checking in. For some reason, she always seemed to gain respect from every person known to her in our district. She was a friend to all. Some adults even seemed to want to get attention from her, in an almost childlike manner. Grown men would pass her an apple at lunchtime, priding themselves on picking the best one for her. Women would invite her to sit with them, or carefully braid her hair. It wasn't that they loved her, simply that she was like a child to them.
To me, she was curious. She was six years younger than me, yet seeing her always provoked a sense of comfort, of belonging. It was as if, in another world where we were both the same age, she would be a love interest of mine. Despite this, I never had a proper conversation with her, until the Games that is, only the occasional "Hello", or "Good Night". I always wanted to talk to her, but knew to keep my distance, preventing myself from any more confusion.
Clove was saying something about the other girl being Rue's ally. Seeing someone pay such little respect to her provokes a fury in me, and the next thing I know I am dangling Clove in the air. I throw her to the ground, and she yelps again. "You kill her?" I shout. My actions confuse me, but I know that, for some reason, Rue must be avenged.
I don't hear Clove's answer. All I hear is her screaming and realise she is looking in horror at my right hand. I remember the rock. It makes contact with her temple, and she falls to the floor. Another one down, and I am starting to get fed up. Now for The Fire Girl. As I turn to her I see the terror in her eyes. Terror that somehow, even amidst the horror of The Hunger Games, looks too innocent to kill a young girl such as Rue. I vaguely remember this girl volunteering for her own sister, a girl just as young.
"What'd she mean? About Rude being your ally?" I shout. And she tells me. About teaming up, burying Rue in the flowers, singing her to sleep. About the bread. And all the while, I see a distant glint in her eyes, and I recognise it to be the same glint as in the eyes of the men at the orchard with the apples, the same as in the eyes of the women skilfully braiding Rue's hair.
The girl's story overwhelms me. I feel pride for Rue, respect for the girl, but at the same time I feel hurt, anguish, and a strange emptiness inside of me. It suddenly dawns on me that I will never see Rue again. Then I feel anger at the Hunger Games, an anger that I know would be sympathised with by The Fire Girl.
"Do it fast, Ok Thresh?" The girl says.
No. Not this once.
.