Practically woken by the hunger rising in my gut, I take a sip of water. My food is running low, I have nothing but a knife to defend myself with, and I am an emotional wreck. But enough about wrecks and enough about me. What I need to worry about is food. And now.
I pluck my knife from my bag and turn it over and over in my hand. Now I guess I could try hunting. I never hunted in District 10, but I have experience with gutting and cleaning dead birds. Maybe if I can manage to take one down, I might have a decent meal tonight. My mouth practically waters at the idea of fresh game.
I head to the nearest tree grove, hoping that I might find even the tiniest of birds hopping back in forth in the trees. It doesn't take me long to spot the quail. Sitting on a tree branch and staring back at me.
Back in 10, the quails were a bit of a problem. They would constantly steal food from our chicken coop. Dad said that this would mean less to eat for the chickens. When I suggested feeding the chickens more so they could still eat the proper amount of food even with the quails, he shot it down, saying that more food would just drive the quails over even more.
And now is a plump little bird, completely at my mercy. If I aim my knife just right, I can take the quail down, without scaring it or missing. I close one eye, trying to imagine the knife as a dart. Take a deep breath, and throw.
Thunk.
I glance at the tree branch the quail was sitting on a second ago. Empty. Underneath lies a dead bird that has a knife sticking out of its chest. My mouth waters all over again and I grab the bird. "Food," I whisper to myself, stroking the bird's soft feathers.
And then I hear it. A small whistle. I instantly freeze, prating it's not another tribute. My surprise completely fades when I catch another bird sitting nearby.
A mockingjay. They're quite rare in District 10. Sure they come to attempt to steal some food from our farm, but I've never really seen one up close. It's pretty, actually. Black, grey, white feathers. And a voice like the heavens.
I whistle, remembering someone once telling me how much these birds like songs. The mockingjay whistles the tune right back, but it sounds beautiful coming from the bird. Like a song.
I consider killing and taking the mockingjay with me, but decide against it. It's too beautiful of a bird to kill. Quails are a different story. Anybody can catch and kill a quail. But a gifted songbird? Who would actually have the heart to take down something like that?
I take the quail to a nearby cave. I'm not too sure why there are so many caves everywhere, but I sure am glad for them. Tonight, this cave will provide me a place to have my own feast.
Gutting birds in 10 is one thing. There was one time where my dad taught me how to properly prepare birds for eating, and another time where I did it by myself, under his watchful eye. It's a little different cleaning the quail in the Hunger Games, but I manage and I soon am cooking the bird over an open fire. The smoke is drifting away, but I really don't care right now.
In mid-afternoon, I take a bite of the wing. It has a bit of a stronger taste tan the chicken I'm really used to, but it beats the bread and apples I've been living on for a while now.
Before I know it, the wing is finished and I'm chasing everything down with water and tossing the bones down the cliff side.
Once I finish my little meal, I pack everything up. I want to spend a little more time with that mockingjay. The bird hasn't moved an inch since I left the grove and stills sits in the same spot. I think and whistle three little notes to the bird. It whistles them back, but in a deeper voice. Then the mockingjay repeats the notes in a more feminine voice. It blurts the same three notes out over and over, in different variations. Ans each one is its own kind of wonderful.
Once the mockingjay finishes, it cocks its head and stares back at me, waiting for me to give it something else to sing. I try whistling a different set of notes and then the variations begin.
And that's what we do for the next hour and a half or so. The mockingjay will listen to my song, then do a series of variations with it, until it gets bored and wants to hear something else. I sing or whistle something else, and the the mockingjay repeats its cycle. Really, the bird isn't bad company. I'm wondering if I can try to find a way to take the bird with me, but I hear a loud shout, and I run. As I do, the mockingjay whistles one last note, which I assume is its way of saying goodbye, in hopes that I come back and give it something else to sing.
My heart pounds as I make my way to the a cave. That was certainly a human, no doubt. A tribute. But who? Caddy? That girl from 7? Dominic? Another Career? A different tribute who I don't have the energy to remember right now? Hopefully, they didn't see me. They probably heard the mockingjay, which is the least of my worries right now. But I realize that I'm starving. So I finish off the quail, which is pretty small, even after I already finished the wings. I allow my eyes to droop and for myself to fade away into sleep.
Yet again, my dreams take a weird, nightmarish turn.
I am following the mockingjay through a dark forest. The only way I know where I'm going is by listening to the mockingjay as it flies. But with every note, the voice of the bird sounds grimier and grimier. Until finally we stop. And I've run into Dominic. He and the other Careers pin me to the ground and take turns slitting my throat with a sword. I am screaming for help from the mockingjay, but it quickly changes into Brillia, and she begins to join her fellow Careers.
I wake up just before Brillia can take another go at me. I am covered in cold sweat from head to toe. It's the eighth day here in the Games and as far as I can tell, nobody was killed last night. So my prediction of the rest of us dying out quickly was wrong. If anything, deaths will become more spaced out. I sit in the cave and take a small sip of water. That's when a loud voice practically carries through the arena.
"Hello final tributes! Claudius Templesmith here! And I'm inviting each and very one of you to the 73rd annual Hunger Games' feast! For some of you, these might be an easy chance to grab a bit of food to eat! For the rest of you...well...this might be a good time to take out a hungry opponent!"
A feast? He can't be serious! The feast occurring right now? This might give me a chance. Hopefully, someone brave enough can take out a Career right then and there. No matter how bloody Feasts always are, there's always food. Always. I take a deep breath. Food. I need to get there, no matter what.
Remaining Tributes:
District 1 male-District 1.
Dominic-District 2.
District 2 Female-District 2.
District 4 Male-District 4.
"Arrowhead"-District 4.
District 7 Female-District 7.
Skyle-District 10.
Caddy-District 10.
The Feast will be next!