Devorac felt contented as he made himself a dinner of cheddar cheese, rye, and some stringy meat that tasted salty, but good. He ripped a large chunk out of the sandwich with his teeth and chewed. It certainly wasn't delicious, especially compared to some of the meals from home, but something about its taste pleased him. He figured it was a psychological thing. The sandwich wouldn't taste nearly as good if he was eating it at home. Here in the rainforest, during the Hunger Games, it tasted heavenly.
He knew most people wouldn't be nearly so happy to be in the Games. Even a few of the Careers who had fought for District 2 before him made it clear in the days preceding the Reaping that they considered it a duty, a job, but not a pleasure. Devorac, too, wasn't fond of competing in the Games itself. What made it something to be desired was the idea that he was helping his district.
Years ago, when he was little, Devorac's trainers had taken him on a field trip. They had taken him to some of the poorer areas of District 2. The district overall was well-off. Its average quality of life was inferior only to that of District 1 and, of course, the Capitol. But District 2 still had its fair share of the poor. His trainers had shown him run-down slums, where people lived in dingy little huts made of whatever scraps they could steal without being caught and whipped. They wore old rags that barely covered the important parts. But more pressing than anything else was their need for food. Devorac was told that they struggled daily to gather enough food to make it through the day, and starvation was a common cause of death among them. He'd shown great concern, even indignation, and asked his trainers what he could do to help. Their answer was simple: win the Hunger Games. Then every single person in the district would get a year's supply of food and even some other prizes for absolutely no cost. "You can't give them all clothes," the trainers had said. "You can't give them all shelter. But you can do better: you can keep them alive. For a full year, you can guarantee that they will not go hungry."
Since then, that experience had served to motivate him. It was what drove him to train when he wanted to rest. It was what kept him moving despite insufficient food, water, or sleep during the practice scenarios. And it was what drove him during the Hunger Games. When he ate, it was so he'd have the energy to fight. When he slept, it was so he'd be alert enough to avoid danger long enough to win. When he killed, it was to move one step closer to feeding those who couldn't feed themselves.
Devorac hefted the battleaxe he had retrieved from the Cornucopia. Its blade was wide and heavy, perfect for someone as large and muscular as him. From what he saw of the other tributes, he guessed he was the biggest tribute, despite the fact that he wasn't the oldest, being only sixteen. On the other side of the metal shaft was a spike for penetrating armor or skulls. Devorac could guess which one it would be used for more during the Hunger Games. As far as he knew, despite armor's theoretical usefulness, it had never been included in the Cornucopia. He wouldn't have picked it up anyway. It would just weigh him down, and good armor would take a few minutes to put on and take off. If he was ambushed in his sleep, it would be useless.
Without warning, a deep crimson light burst into existence, illuminating the forest. He jumped up suddenly, spilling the last bite of his sandwich on the ground, and searched for the source of the light. When he found it to be the symbol of Panem glowing on a nearby tree trunk, he relaxed. At the conclusion of each day in the Hunger Games, the faces of those who had died that day were projected for the remaining tributes to see. Usually, they were projected into the sky, but with the thick forest canopy, that was impractical. Devorac had wondered how they'd handle the projection of deaths this year. He supposed that he shouldn't be surpised at the method they'd chosen. No doubt the Capitol's scientists could bend light in ways he couldn't imagine. It wouldn't be hard for them to project images onto any individual tree – or trees, since Devorac figured every tribute would be getting their own projection.
The red Panem symbol changed into the angular, pretty face of a girl Devorac recognized with surprise as the female tribute from District 1. It wasn't often that Careers were killed on the first day. After her followed a sequence of faces: the girls from Districts 6, 7, and 9, and the boys from Districts 3, 6, and 8. Seven total deaths. So District 6 was already eliminated.
After the initial melee centered on the Cornucopia, Devorac had heard five cannon shots in the distance, each marking a tribute's death. Around midday, he'd heard two more, which accounted for the other two deaths. As far as Devorac knew, five was the lowest initial body count in Hunger Games history. He figured it was because the density of the trees provided plenty of cover and ways to maneuver away from enemies. He wondered what had happened to the other two, and whether one of them was the girl from District 1.
Devorac thought about his next move as the light faded. The projection of deaths marked the coming of night. Devorac didn't feel tired at all, since he'd gotten plenty of sleep before the Games, but he figured it was better to set up camp anyway, since he hadn't had the foresight to get a source of light from the Cornucopia. The rainforest was pitch-black at night since the canopy blocked out the moonlight, and even if he could trek the whole night without getting injured or lost, it would be slow going. Ultimately, it wasn't worth it. The next day, he would head to the edge of the arena, since he figured that was where any smart tributes would go. Having one's back to a cliff eliminated the possibility of being attacked from behind. The downside was that it also reduced the number of possible escape routes from danger, unless one was sure one was going to die.
Devorac got up and began unrolling his tent.
