The cold wakes me even earlier than usual. I have never been a late riser, but for what I can see, the stars are still shining bright and there is not a sign of dawn approaching. How long did I sleep, then? Is it after midnight, or before? My whole body is shivering as it never did before; I can't remember the last night feeling half as freezing as this one; as if the gamemakers were sucking the last bit of warmth out of anyone inside this arena. They want us to come out of hiding, obviously. Especially me.
I'm not the type of tribute they want to see in the Capitol; way too little action. Maybe I got a couple of minutes airtime during my first attempts at the pyramid, but surely seeing me do the very same thing again the third and fourth time was much less interesting, if not boring. What the crowds really like is some bloody hand-to-hand combat; that's what glues the masses to the screen and that's what the gamemakers are determined to provide.
The last time I got within striking distance of another tribute was... well... on the very first day of the games. I was trying to put as much distance as possible between me and the bloodbath, when I suddenly realized I was heading the wrong way, back to where I came from – I guess it was difficult for me to keep track of directions in that unfamiliar terrain. And before I could even think about turning around, I was lying flat on the ground with the hell of a headache. That certain girl who was on fire had just crashed into me, and even worse: she had a knife, while I was barehanded.
I struggled to get back on my feet again, and to my surprise she darted off in the opposite direction... not even an attempt to go after me. No doubt, I can be fast, but she could have outrun me easily when it came down to stamina. Fire girl is special, I knew that from the very moment I saw her in the reaping. She volunteered for that 12-year-old girl; her sister if I remember correctly what she said in her interview with Caesar. And that star-crossed lovers thing? She didn't know anything before, that's for sure. He? Maybe he really loves her. Maybe he doesn't, but whoever came up with that idea must be called a genius.
So why on earth didn't they stick to this act? The crowds would have gone mad; the couple would have been drowned in sponsor gifts by now. All they had to do was to stick together and find some place to hide... yet they didn't. They never left each other's side during training, still I haven't seen them together even once inside the arena. How could anyone be stupid enough to ignore such a chance? To me, there is just one logical answer: someone interfered. That explains why Loverboy was with the careers; he was their prisoner. Just why didn't they kill him right away? Did they hope to draw her near, using him as living bait? That would explain how someone could get desperate enough to use tracker jackers for a trap.
Anyhow, I'm feeling thirsty and that bottle of mine was emptied yesterday – the stream is not far away, and some physical activity might warm me up a little. Still, there could be careers on the loose tonight... they got two pairs of those strange sunglasses with them, and from what I can tell they improve ones eyesight in the darkness; any other tribute without this kind of gadget would be easy prey for them at night. I pause for a while to listen carefully, but there is nothing suspicious or unusal in the sounds of the nocturnal forest around me.
I wrap the blanket around and start moving towards the murmur of the water, pausing after each step to check for signs of traps and unnatural sounds. As for the cold, being up and moving doesn't seem to help at all. At least the sky is getting slightly brighter in what I think is east, telling me dawn is finally approaching. By the time I reach my destination, twilight has set in, so I quickly take a sip of the icy water, fill my flask and head back to the trees, where I am somewhat protected from sight.
Staying a safe distance away from the stream, I follow it towards the lake, until I can see the golden glimmer of the cornucopia in the first rays of the morning sun. The clearing. I have finally reached it. With temperature rising slowly, I start to feel slightly more comfortable; at least most of the shivering is gone. Finally reaching the forest's edge, the true extent of devastation catches my eye: shreds of backpacks, tents, containers spread out everywhere. Craters everywhere, partially filled with rubble. Whoever set those mines off did a thoruough job.
I pause for a while to check whether the area is safe, then dart out into the open. There is no one here; the cornucopia itself empty. For a moment, I consider moving my den inside the golden horn, for it would offer some protection against wind and weather... the careers have picked it clean; there is nothing anyone could hope to gain from it. On the other hand, it is positioned right in the middle of that clearing; any movement in and out could be easily seen by anyone in a hundred-yard radius. No, this is no safe space for me; no matter how well I could hide myself in there. It's a death trap.
I begin digging through the first hole. A sealable metal flask, not so bad... until I notice the crack going from one end to the other. No, this one won't hold anything; it's completely useless. As I continue searching, I come across a dented pot. A pack of crackers containing mostly crumbles, but certainly edible. And then – a knife blade, from the looks of it still sharp. I think about that theory about the booby-traps again, but there is no sign of it being left on purpose. No hidden thread attached to it; and certainly no mine beneath for they all went off in this area. Still careful, I lift it from the ground.
Nothing happens. And then, before I could stop myself, I begin to laugh. Laugh at the careers for being either fools or blind. Laugh at the gamemakers for not having managed to get rid of me. I even laugh at the Capitol, knowing that sometime it will be their children in the arena and not ours. The districts will rise again, as they have risen before; and one day they will be victorious. They cannot stop us; they cannot wipe out all twelve districts at once like they did in 13 – dead people cannot work, and ruined plants will not produce. They would starve out themselves.
A twig snaps in the distance. An animal, perhaps. Or a mutt. Or worse – a tribute. I should have held my tongue; that sudden burst of laughter must have alarmed anyone in a half-mile radius of my presence. I sprint off to the woods, away from the direction that noise came from. Looking back, the clearing appears deserted; there is no one to be seen. Anyhow, I have no intentions to tempt my fate by moving back into the open, so I decide it will be best for me to find a shady place to hide from the baking midday sun to come.
Hungry as ever, I quickly finish what remained of the crackers – pulverized by the explosions, but still edible; at least with some water to wash down the crumbs. I spend the hottest hours of the day camouflaged in the undergrowth, dozing off for a while only to be woken by the sound of a cannon somewhere in the distance. That's seven now; me and six others. I instantly hope it was not Rue who died, for she is so young and cute and innocent and least deserves such an end. She should be the one leaving this arena alive.
A second boom; that makes two deaths now – and we are down to half a dozen, from initially twenty-four. Two cannons in close succession, from approximately the same location. The beefcake from eleven is still hiding in the fields, which are quite the opposite direction. Loverboy staging a sneak attack on the careers, finishing one of them before getting killed in the process? Certain suicide, why would he do that after his successful escape? No, two booms at the same place can only mean one thing: the pack found Katniss and Rue.
That's bad for me, for they were my favourite source of trusted food besides the now blown-up stockpile. They both knew what they were doing; there was no need to check the safety of whatever they prepared to eat themselves. I've even grown fond of them, up to the point of considering to offer joining their alliance – but to what point? There can be only one victor; I wouldn't have trusted fire girl not to put a knife in my back at the right time. I am no twelve-year-old after all; no one too sweet to harm... and getting along with other people never belonged to my strengths.
To my surprise, the first face to show up is the boy from one; I never bothered to pick up his name – my speculations about a suicide attack experience a sudden revival. Who was the second victim? Rue. At least I wasn't completely wrong with my initial assumption of her alliance having been under attack, but why only her and the career? They can't be stupid enough to split up while on the chase, with others like fire girl and that muscle man around... or can they? Did the loss of their supplies drive them mad enough to attempt taking on all the others at once, in a desperate attempt to end the games before the hunger sets in?
As long as the gamemakers don't freeze me out before, I might actually stand a chance to win this... but I really need another blanket.