Chapter 4

For the next few hours, the six of us search near and far, high and low for victims. I can honestly say if I weren't a career, I wouldn't want to mess with any of my allies. They're all armed to the teeth with the deadliest weapons the cornucopia could provide. Parr has his sword (which I swear is like a child to him), Opal has a set of throwing knives, Sterling has a bow and sheath of arrows, Viola has an axe, Harper has his spears, and I have a crossbow. No one would ever doubt that we're careers. We're prepared and equipped to handle any number of the other tributes, but to our dismay we only manage to kill one after four hours of searching: the boy from District 7. It isn't a total loss though. We cover enough ground to learn some essential stuff about the arena. For example, we all learn that I'm clearly the brains of this group, because I, unlike the others, followed Atala's advice in the training center and learned about survival skills. I point out the poisonous berries and plants and which insects are and aren't edible. I swear these guys would all make Hunger Games history as the fastest career pack to die out if not for me.

More importantly, we cover enough ground to discover the lay of the land, literally. The arena is mostly land and mountains, at least to the naked eye. But after hours of endless marching, we discover the edges of the arena are built up of a series of large dams. The dams are as tall as manmade ones but constructed from logs, as if by beavers. You'd think they were built by beaver mutations. We never approach any of the dams we see, we merely observe them from safe distances. Later that night, as we prepare dinner from the food in our packs, we discuss them.

"I wonder what they're for," Opal says.

The rest of us, except Sterling, give her a dark look.

"They're for baking muffins," Viola replies sarcastically. "What the hell do you think they're for? They're for what all dams are for: keeping water from coming into the arena."

"Seriously, Opal," Harper joins. "Any three-year-old could figure it out."

"Hey, lay off her," Sterling orders. "How's she supposed to know what dams are for?"

"Yeah," says Opal. "It's not like it's information I'm ever gonna need to know in life."

In her defense, that's true. She's from District 1, the luxury district. They specialize in jewels, perfume, cosmetics, and other things in that nature. They don't need to learn about water safety like Harper and me, or about stonework like Viola and Parr.

"We're sorry," Harper relents. "We should all remember that just 'cause we're all trained for the Games doesn't mean we have to know everything."

"Yeah, sorry," Viola says, sounding less sincere than Harper.

After a brief pause, Opal quietly replies, "It's okay."

We all sit there in dead silence for a few minutes eating our food. The sound of the Panem National Anthem is what breaks the silence. We look up to the dark sky because we know what happens after this. When the music stops, the faces of the fallen tributes appear in the sky. None of us look away; we want to be able to know who's left besides the six of us. The fallen: the boy from 3, the boy from 5, the girl from 6, both from 7, the girl from 8, the boy from 9, and both from 12.

"No surprise to those last two," Parr laughs about the pair from 12. "Guess their pathetic old drunk of a mentor isn't showing any signs of sobering up."

"No kidding," says Opal. "Is he even trying to give them any advice at all anymore?"

"Well he sure is giving them advice on how to get killed," says Viola.

"As opposed to the other mentors," says Sterling. "It's the end of the first day and barely anyone's died."

We all nod in agreement.

"We can only hope that if we don't get them, the mutts will," I say.

"Where's the fun in that?" Parr asks.

"Anything's more fun than last year," says Opal.

She's right actually. Last year's arena was a huge wasteland of ice and snow. Almost none of the tributes were killed in combat. Nearly all of them died a slow and painful death from hypothermia. The victor barely made it out alive. He suffered from frostbite until the Victory Tour.

"Point taken," Parr agrees. "What a snore fest."

"Good thing we're surrounded by trees then," I say. "We should have no trouble starting a fire."

"Yeah, what a relief," says Harper. "The odds are definitely in our favor."

"Well obviously. At least you and I have made it farther than the pair from 4 last year," I remind him. "They made it only five minutes in."

"Seriously?" Viola asks. "What a pathetic pair of careers."

"Eh, it's not so surprising," I say. "I remember having class with the girl, Deb, at school. She was kind of a bimbo."

"Yeah," says Harper with a sarcastic smile. "She was probably too distracted by pretty boy Finnick to actually pay attention to his advice, right Annie?"

There he goes again. Really, is it my fault Finnick is such a sweetheart? A really beautiful sweetheart? A really beautiful sweetheart with strong arms and gorgeous chiseled abs and… By the way the others are staring at me, I'm assuming my face is reflecting my thoughts. I really hope I'm not blushing. Then why do my ears feel so warm? I clear my throat and quickly change the subject.

"Well, I don't know about you all, but I think I'm ready to turn in."

Luckily, the others like the sound of that.

"Me too," Opal sighs. "Endless hours of marching around this God forsaken arena. My feet are killing me."

"Who wants to stand guard?" Parr asks.

"I'll do it," Harper offers.

I roll my eyes. "Sure Harper, why don't we just wear neon arrows on our heads?"

The others laugh.

"Come on," Harper says in a serious tone. "I can handle it."

"You sure?" Parr asks.

"Cross my heart."

I find a flat, soft place on the ground, unroll my space blanket, and drape it over my body. Right when I begin to doze off, I watch Harper carefully if not suspiciously. I remember how he let his guard down when I killed the girl he wanted to kill earlier today. Not like I was trying to sneak up on him, but I question what would've happened if my knife had missed and I hit him instead of the girl. He can't be trusted as a guard. If the others knew him as well as I do, they would never have let him do this. I take one last look at him sitting there wide awake with a spear in his hand, and fall asleep hoping at least one of the others is a very light sleeper.

End of chapter