CHAPTER TWO: WELCOME TO THE NIGHTMARE

"Never go into the deep parts of the forest, for there are many dangers there, both dark and bright."

Robert Beatty

I set up camp near the base of a giant oak tree. It's obviously been tampered with – the limbs stretch out further than any normal limb should. Not to mention the trunk is as wide as a small crater. Although this is evidence of the Gamemakers' enhancements, I know the tree will be a useful haven. Should anyone try and sneak up on me, I can be halfway up the massive trunk before they even know I'm gone – not to mention I could probably see them coming from two dozen feet away.

The items I find in my new pack are practical, but they still aren't enough to keep me alive for an extended amount of time. There's a water canister with no water, a sleeping bag with next to no insulation to keep me warm from the inevitable freezing cold nights, and several crudely constructed cups for eating and drinking. Two cans of dried fruit and a package of jerky are the only food I find, and although these things are not entirely useless, I know I won't be able to eat much of it before I start to get thirsty.

I haven't seen any sign of water during the three hours that I spent trekking through the forest. The air is devoid of moisture, and unfortunately I haven't been lucky enough to find another backpack or something with water already in it. I'll need to take it easy on the food until I find my bow and arrows. When that happens, I can hunt down all the fresh meat I want. But for now, I know locating a water source might be the most difficult task I'll have to face.

I sigh and grumble aloud, "Damn you, forest! Why have you betrayed me?!"

Too late, I realize the cameras might be focused on me. After all, "the girl on fire" made it out of the infamous Bloodbath alive. I wonder if that's what many people predicted…or if they assumed I was all talk and no show. I hope the Capital citizens have been rooting for me, although I seriously doubt it. The best way to get sponsors is to play on their emotions, and I haven't been doing a very decent job of it so far.

I should've kept track of Peeta, I think broodingly. We would've gotten so many sponsors if the two "star-crossed lovers" from District 12 were working together from the very beginning. You had one job, Katniss!

Too late for that now. Peeta has probably settled down somewhere by now, just as I have. The only scenario I can hope for is that the two of us run into each other sometime tomorrow. Until then, I'll have to rotate between dozing and keeping watch.

After all, who knows what might be lurking among all these shadowed trees?

Huh, I think then. That sounded strangely poetic. Nice, Katniss.

The sky abruptly darkens, and I sit up straight, anxious to learn who has been slaughtered in the massacre at the Cornucopia. The anthem starts up first, and I have to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. The patriotic melody is anything but, although there's no way I can show my displeasure. Everything I do from now until the moment I escape – either through death or as a victor – will be strictly monitored.

I must keep that in mind.

Young tribute faces flash suddenly in the sky, their district numbers highlighted beneath the unsmiling headshots. All in all, eleven tributes died today, no doubt as a result of the Careers and their merciless brutality. I can't help but sigh with relief when I see that little Rue and Peeta, as well as the elusive girl from District 5 whom I've already nicknamed Foxface, have all survived.

Despite the fact that my district partner is the only one I personally know, I feel protective of the other two. Rue reminds me in numerous ways of my sister, Primrose, and Foxface…well, she looks too clever for her own good. I respect that slyness, but I'm also wary of it.

This is still the Hunger Games, after all.

I hum quietly to myself as the night wears on. Birds chirp, jabberjays and a few mockingjays among them, and I smile. I've always found it pretty ironic how those particular birds were created and intended to be used as weapons, though in the end they ultimately helped the resistors instead of the Capital. And now here they are again, flitting about the forest, probably to help the Gamemakers spy on the tributes. How positively twisted.

At one point, I start to doze off. The false stars above me blur together, and the leaves of the impossibly tall trees swirl into a blending vortex of greens and browns. My head lolls to the side, my grip on the knife that Clove threw at my backpack begins to loosen, and…

And suddenly I'm wide awake.

There's a muffled rustling off to my left. It sounds like someone's trying to walk very stealthily on the leaf-strewn ground and is failing miserably. My body instantly tenses, and I lift myself into a crouch. There's no light to go by, other than the stars high above, so I'm stuck equally between a slight advantage and a slight disadvantage. It's a good thing that my stalker can't see me, but it's just as bad that I can't see who or where they are either.

Or if there's more than one.

I know that if it's one of the Careers, I'll be dead in a second. Or a nanosecond. (Or…well, is there any measure of time smaller than a nanosecond? Must reflect on that later.) (If there is a later.) In the meantime, I have no weapon, aside from a single knife that I have virtually no clue how to use. Hopefully they won't drag my death out (though if Clove gets to me first, I doubt my agony will be short-lived; she seems like the sadistic type). But if it's not them – I don't dare believe it even for a moment – I might actually have a chance of coming out of this alive.

I can take most of the other tributes out, even with just a small knife. However, if clever Foxface or Rue's large district partner, Thresh, decides that now would be a good time to dispose of the girl on fire…well, there won't be much I can do about it.

My eyes straining in the darkness, I wait for the mysterious tribute's next move.

Surprisingly, it comes in the form of surrender. The first part of their body I'm able to see is their hands, which are as pale as the moon. That immediately rules out Thresh and Rue, but the Careers are still an option. The hands are raised almost to shoulder level, palms facing outward, as if they mean me no harm (cue eye roll).

Then I see the self-important smirk, and my annoyance fades.

And I know that my time in the arena has come to an end.