I wake up to the same pink sky from when the Games began. I'm relieved to see that the eagles, or whatever they were, aren't as low anymore, but I can't help but feel that something is off. The sound of chirping that I had grown accustomed to is gone. The wind has died down and not a ruffle can be heard through the trees. In fact, I can't hear anything. There's no wind, no birds, no animals at all. I'm wondering if this is my mind playing another one of it's stupid tricks on me, but my parched throat and rumbling stomach push the thought away.

I carefully curl out of my sleeping bag, and push the branches out of my way. I'm extremely grateful for having it because the night was freezing, I can tell being that my nose is ice cold. It's possible someone might of died while I was asleep and I didn't hear their cannon, but I'll find out tonight if that's the case. I have bigger things to worry about currently. My first task being water. I'm hesitant about drinking anymore from my bottle because who knows how far I'll have to travel to reach another source. Then there's the problem about what to do with the squirrel. If I don't cook it soon, it will turn bad and start to rot. I try to think of what I should do first. Avain's blue eyes pop into my mind. I know he would want me to find water. Immediately. Besides, I can always just kill another squirrel.

I pack my things, grab my bow, and start my search. It doesn't take long for me to confirm that I'm not going crazy. The entire forest has inexplicably gone silent. Like as though it's holding its breath. All I hear is an intense, steady silence. The birds I had seen when I first woke up are gone, and I don't see a single sign of life anywhere. No squirrels, no rabbits, no animals whatsoever. Perhaps the Gamemakers hadn't intended on so many tributes making it through the first day, and are now limiting the animals as a way to wither us down. The very thought makes me panic because if I don't cook that squirrel soon, I might not be able to find another for who knows how long. Before that can happen I need to find water, and quickly.

I spend the morning searching. The same stillness stays in the air and not a single tribute appears. A deep feeling of isolation emerges, but I keep going, bow armed and ready. I can't let this illusion trick me because, like yesterday, I'm probably on-screen this very moment. Not constantly, but on and off. Tributes trekking through the woods is nothing out of the ordinary, and there's still fourteen others spread out and probably doing the same thing. But they'll need to show that I'm unijured and on the move. Enough to show Lila and Jackson that I'm still alive and okay. I put the most cheerful expression I can manage and continue walking.

It's so uneasy walking through the woods with no sounds. Only that of my feet hitting the ground. Could the Gamemakers have really gotten rid of all the animals? If so, what are they trying to prove? It could takes days, weeks, in fact, before tributes start dying from starvation. If they wanted to wither us down, I'm sure they could have done something much more effective. I think back to the years when they created a flood, or a large fire, or when they announced a feast after only three days in.

I shake the thought away.

This silence must really be getting to me...

I try to get my bearings. I ran south from the Cornucopia after the Bloodbath, and, from what I know, I've been heading in the same direction ever since. If I keep heading south, I'll eventually hit the forcefield. I have to assume that if the river ran in this direction, I would have found it by now. I guess I have no choice but to change my course. But change my course to where? There's no point in heading back. I can only go east or west. I remember the mountains I saw to my left when the Games began. They lie west. It's also where I'm assuming most of the tributes are-and the Careers. Then I'll have to head east.

I change my course. I feel safer knowing that I'm heading away from the mountains, but I still remain alert. I keep trudging through the woods with the ground that only seems to become more and more covered in moss. I can even feel my boots going in deeper, like the terrain below me is getting softer and more fluffier with each step. I feels like I'm walking on a large blanket, really. After about half-an-hour, I then notice the trees begin to shrink around me and become more condensed. It hate the feeling this gives me because apart from my claustrophobia, it makes spotting enemies from afar substantially more difficult and makes the possibility of someone sneaking up on me much higher. I realise that arming my bow is pointless and pull out my knife instead. I make sure to constantly check my flanks as I walk.

I pause for a moment to survey my surroundings and listen for any signs of life. I'm met with the usual silent nothingness. All is quiet except for my heavy breathing ringing loudly in my ears. This sends uncomfortable shivers down my spine.

I glance at the tall pines around me. Is it just me or is their bark getting much darker than before? I narrow my eyes on the blackened wood around me. I curiously approach one of the trees to my side. No, it's not just black. There's something else. I lean in closer to get a better look. I immediately spot a faint dark-orange tint to it. That's weird, I've never seen trees like this before. I try to remember if I had seen them from a previous Games or something, but then a strong odor enters my nose. Not of pine, but something else. Something much stronger and bitter. I can't seem put my finger on it. Before I can wrap my head around it, I notice something in the corner of my eyes. Glistening from the rays of the sun breaking through the thick canopy above. Ten-feet wide and moving in a gentle current.

Water!

The very sight makes me want to rush to it at full speed, but I have to sensibility to check my surroundings first. Not a person in sight.

I feel myself tightening the grip on the string of my bow. I cautiously approach the river. It's not very big, indicating that it must close-off somewhere nearby. Maybe even lead into another lake, or a pond. I scan the forest around me, but all that I hear is the never-ending silence and desolation I've been with all day. I go in to get a closer look, the trees around me shrink closer and closer together as I approach the river, their strong stretch wafting around in my nostrils. I watch the clear, blue water stream by. I stare at it in suspicion. It might be poisonous, but that wouldn't make much sense. If it were poisonous, then the lake back at the Cornucopia and this entire river would be too. I'm certain that I can't be the first tribute to have found it. More tributes would be dead by now. The lack of cannons assures me it probably isn't.

I crouch down near the edge of the bank and pull out my water bottle from my bag. Since I don't have any iodine to filter it out, I wrap the bandages over the cap of the bottle and use it as a makeshift filter. I don't see any fish swim by, confirming that even the water has been devoid of life. After my bottle is filled up, I remove my bag and wash the dried blood off by spraying cold water on it, making sure the blood doesn't drip down into river.

I take large sips from my bottle-now that I know I can easily get more-and refresh my parched throat. The water sends chills rippling down my mouth and stimulates my entire body. I feel completely rejuvenated by the time I've filled it up a again.

There's really no point in leaving. I could probably set up camp right here. I decide to stoop down next to the stump of a tree a few feet away. The strange smell enters my nose again, but I ignore it. Right as I'm about to sit down, the orange tint comes into view. I stare at it in confusion. My mind ponders for a brief moment, and with my left hand, I curiously place my palm on the bark. A memory sparks into my head and I know what it is less than a second too late, because that's when I shriek.

There's an immediate burning sensation on my palm where it touched the tree and I instantly pull my hand away from the orange-black bark. It doesn't matter though because the damage is done. The pain is so strong it's making my eyes water as the sensation of something burrowing deep into my hand and eating away at my skin begins to take effect. It takes all my will to not scream out anymore because I'm on the ground now and I'm feeling light-headed. When I examine the wound, I see my hand covered in blood, and what isn't bleeding has turned yellow.

Acid.

The word reaches my lips right away.

That explains the orange color I saw, and the smell. All these trees around me must be laced with acid. Their bark burning away at flesh upon contact.

I'm in too much shock to stand up and the pain is only getting worse.

The sound of footsteps heading in my direction registers in my head and my heart begins to pound harder than it ever has before. The thought of another tribute coming to finish me off fuels my body and gives me the strength to spring to my feet and grab my knife. There's only really two thoughts pounding through my head. That I don't want to die, and that I can't die!

The sound becomes louder and louder, but I'm fortunate not to have been spotted yet thanks to the dense cluster of trees all around me. I quickly scoop up my bow, ignoring the sharp stabs of pain its sending through my skin, and sprint as fast as I can away from the pursuer. My mind is racing at a thousand thoughts per second and my body takes complete control of me, ordering me to continue running. I know I'm following the river downstream, and I even in my surging adrenaline, I keep a good distance from the acid trees.

I'm too afraid to look back, but I'm not sure if I've been spotted yet. They must've been nearby when they heard my scream.

I prick my ears to listen for the sound of rushing footsteps from my attacker. They're far away. I'd say back where I was camping at. The sense of panic fills my lungs that I might have left something important back there, but then I remember that I had grabbed my bow and bag before fleeing. I notice the blood pouring out of my hand and the immense pain from gripping the hard metal of the bow and I let it drop to the ground. I pause in front of a large pond where the river leads into. Beyond me, all I can see is trees that go on endlessly. My eyes widen as I the sound of footsteps enters my ears again, indicating that they've began to chase me again. I'm so petrified that I don't know where to go. I hear twigs snapping behind me and the tribute coming closer, but I'm frozen in place.

RUN! I order myself with such force it awakens my limbs. But only enough to shuffle a bit forwards.

The footsteps are coming closer now. I now they'll be here any second, but I'm still not moving. I'm not moving because all I can feel is doubt. Can I really outrun them? Won't it just stall my death? The crowd is expecting a fight, and if that's the case, then the Gamemakers will never let me get away. I glance back. Should I fight? I look down at my knife. I'm shaking my hand and bleeding plan I know I won't stand a chance. Then I remember the pond to my side. My eyes widen. I don't have time to question my actions. I toss my bow in the water and dive in after it.

The feeling of ice-cold water hitting my face is all I can feel. The rest of my body is limp. My heart feels like its about to explode and I'm holding my breath for dear life. The pain in my hand is so strong I'm biting the sleeve of my jacket so that I don't scream. I have my eyes pinned to the surface, where I can only make out the distorted shape of the green forest canopy above. My knife clenched tightly in my trembling right hand.

It feels like an eternity until the outline of a person appears overlooking the pond. I can make out their eyes darting around in search of me. There's an awful choking sensation that I have to suppress as I wait. I can't tell if they've spotted me, but I remain prepared to leaped out at any moment. Suddenly, I see their head turn in the direction I was thinking of running in and disappear.

I aim my ears towards the surface, hoping to hear if they've truly disappeared, but the water makes it so I'm practically deaf. My only option, I decide, is to wait a little longer. The sensation that I'm choking multiplies until my chest starts to jerk wildly like I'm being punched. I close my eyes and clench my jaw, needing all my strength not to reach for air. But the pain becomes too strong and I spring out of the water.

The light is initially blinding. I gasp deeply for air. It doesn't help, because no matter how hard I gasp, it never seems to be enough. I keep breathing and for I moment I think I might actually die, then I feel myself slowly start to catch my breath. Somehow, I end up on my knees away from the pond. I'm sitting there for what feels like another eternity. Letting myself breath in and out. Then, I remember the tribute who was chasing me. Panic surges through my body again and I turn to see if they're gone. I can hear the sound of their boots scrambling to find me, but off in the distance. It will only be a matter of time before they probably loop back here. I remember my bow, still sunk at the bottom of the pond and I dive back in. I immediately spot it shining from the sunlight and scoop it up. I feel the water stab at my injured hand and send a wave of pain through my arm. I quickly jump back out and sprint full-speed in the opposite direction of the tribute.

Whatever bearings I thought I had, are now gone. I've been running frantically through the woods for so long that I can see the sun is starting to set above. I'd hardly taken any breaks. The thought of that tribute almost killing me kept me moving. I just needed to get as far away from that awful place, and that awful tribute, and those awful trees. I remind myself to never head back there. No matter what. Even though I've lost my only source of freshwater.

The thought of that pretty little pond pops into my head. I actually think jumping it the water helped a little bit because it seemed to have drawn out some of the acid, but my hand is still stinging pretty badly. Even though the blood has ceased a little, I wrap the roll of bandages around my palm for good measure. What isn't swollen has begun to turn yellow and is making me sick. I know that using my bow will be impossible. The amount of effort needed to be exerted on the string will surely make me blackout. All I have now to protect me is a small knife blade. On top of that, my near-death encounter won't have been well-received by the audience. The Gamemakers won't be pleased that I've ruined their chance for some real action and the crowd will be calling for blood. Especially since I haven't heard a single cannon fire today. People will be restless.

It's late in the afternoon by the time I finally agree to rest. My muscles are sore and my hand is still in severe shape. I'm still in a state of shock.

I look back up and see the dark blue sky slowly fading into oblivion. The sun is starting to set, but I still have time to spare a fire. The dusk sky will hide the smoke well enough so that the other tributes won't see it, but I need to hurry. I quickly drop my things and get to work. I don't have any matches, so I have no choice but to work with the few materials around me. I cut out thin layers of bark with my knife using my good hand and prepare to spin the notch of a small branch on the bark the way I remember doing back in the training center. I'm so caught up in the thought of eating, that I completely forget the state my hand is in. I try to spin the notch with both hands and the pain almost makes me scream. I forgot, there's no way I can build a fire from scratch with only one hand. I curse under my breath and toss the tools away.

I look hopelessly up to the sky. Maybe a sponsor can send me some food. Is a sponsor sending me food too much to ask? What more do I have to prove. It's only been a day since the Games started and sponsorships are still fairly cheap. Do I even have sponsors? I must have. Especially after my display at the Bloodbath. What is Avain waiting for? He could easily press a button and have a silver parachute sent to me in seconds. Maybe he knows that sending me food isn't worth it. Maybe I'm deluding myself. Maybe people knew that I had no idea what I was doing when I jumped into those bushes and that getting the bow was just a stroke of luck.

I grit my teeth. I'll have to toughen it out, even though my stomach hasn't stopped grumbling all day. After all my gorging I did during my stay at the Capitol, it's hard to ignore. I remind myself how silly I'm acting. Back in the orphanage it wouldn't be uncommon to miss meals. Sometimes we wouldn't eat for days, like during the winter when there's constant food shortages. People can last weeks without food. I know this because of the people who lie penniless on the streets of District 9. Yet here I am, complaining after hardly two days. I can only imagine what the people in my district would say if I asked Avain to send me some food right now. They'd never want me to come back home.

The sound of silence reminds me where I am. I look blankly around. All I'm met with is the same sight of black trees and mossy-green grass.

I sigh.

I decide to get back to my feet. Might as well find a place to rest for the night. Building a fire will have to wait until my hand heals, and who knows how long that will take? I settle down near some tall ferns poking through the ground. The ground is so soft and I wonder if a sleeping bag would be necessary, but then a cold steam of wind reminds me that I'm being foolish. Laying out my sleeping bag takes twice as long as yesterday now that I'm partially handicapped and while I finally do zip up my jacket it's the result of careful precision. I keep my knife gripped in my good hand and buckle down to sleep. I remember that I managed to refill my bottle before fleeing and pull it out, taking only small sips.

By now the sun has begun to set. The forest is still inexplicably devoid of noise, but the pain in my hand keeps my thoughts away.

The anthem plays and no faces appear.

I can only imagine what tomorrow has in store. It's only a matter of time before the Gamemakers work out a way to bring us together. I try not to think about it.

Morning brings a flood of relief. I wake up to the wonderful sound of birds chirping and singing in the branches high above my head. My first impulse is to question whether yesterday was all a part of my imagination. I should really go see a doctor or something; get my brain assessed. Now that I think about it, yesterday seems more like some sort of unpleasant dream. How many days has it been? Two? Three? Suddenly, I notice the throbbing pain in my left hand and confirm that it wasn't a dream. I almost died yesterday. And since there still haven't been any deaths, I'll probably be dead by the end of the day.

I lick my dry, frozen lips, and quench my thirst. I look around the woods. I don't spot any of those awful orange trees I had seen earlier, but I double-check by sniffing the bark for any of that pungent, sour smell. All I can smell is pine, which brings me relief. From watching the Games all my life, I know that only certain parts are laced with certain traps. I'm guessing that back towards the river, all the trees share the same acidic bark. That means I've travelled far enough to escape it.

A dark thought crosses my mind. Who knows what traps reside in the other parts?

I remind myself it's best not to consider too many scenarios.

I try to plan out where I will head next. This arena seems fairly vast; considering there still haven't been any deaths and there's more than half of us left. Albeit, yes, I did run into another tribute yesterday, but that mostly due to the silence that makes spotting others much easier. Maybe it feels bigger since I'm totally disoriented from not knowing which direction I was running yesterday. All I do know is that after I ran away from the Cornucopia, the ground was sloping downwards, into an unending valley. Now, in front of me, and as far as I can see, the ground is sloping upwards and the trees seem to be getting more spread out. There's only two explanations; one, I'm either heading back to the Cornucopia, or two, I'm heading towards the mountains-the exact place I've been trying to avoid. Either way, I've lost my one advantage of using a bow. That power and optimism I felt the first day has withered and now I'll have to be on alert. If I find anyone out here, I'll have no choice but to run or hide, just like I did yesterday.

Great, I mutter.

Since I'm too apprehensive continuing forwards, I decide to spend most of my morning throwing my knife into the trunk of a nearby tree and organizing and reorganizing the contents of my pack. Hopefully there's something interesting going on somewhere else because I'm being as eventful as a dead mouse.

It's midday by the time I decide to set up some snares. Since my hand won't let me hunt, this is all I've got. I try my hardest to remember what the instructor had taught me back in the training center. I'm doubtful it'll catch anything since my effort back at training were mediocre at best, but I need people to see I'm still apart of this Game. That just because I'm injured, doesn't mean I'm going to give up. Pity doesn't bring you help. Refusal to give in to your injuries does. I make sure not to give the cameras plenty of time to pinpoint my carefully set snare. For the sake of the viewers, I use two of my fingers and pretend like they're a small animal cluelessly walking into my trap. Then I bring my hand to my neck and move it slowly across my throat, motioning that when it walks in, it'll be killed. I can almost hear the laughter coming from the crowd. I'm hoping that the more they laugh, the more they more generous they'll be. And the generous they are the more they'll hopefully spend on me.

Before I can get up, I spot the white fur of a rabbit eyeing me a few yards away near the trunk of a tree.

I stop what I'm doing and stare back at it. I hear my stomach grumble. I watch it sniff the air for any unwanted predators. I don't move, desperately hoping it doesn't notice me and get startled away. I calmly reach for the knife in my belt.

"It's okay, little guy. I'm not gonna hurt you," I whisper, not even letting myself blink. I unsheath the blade and slowly rise up. "Just don't...move."

Right as I'm about to take a step, it glances to me in fear and bounds away. That's when I start to chase it. I know it's pointless to chase a scared rabbit, that there's no way I'll ever be able to catch it, but something, some deep primitive instinct inside me urges me to follow through. To make the kill. I barely catch its white fluffy fur disappear past the various trees, but it's enough to send me in the right direction. I keep the blade armed and ready. I charge at it, but it continues its pace, hoping headlessly through the ground. I feel myself getting closer to it and I'm even about to leap and strike at it, but then I trip on a large tree root and hit the ground with a thud. I watch the little rabbit scurry away and I roll my eyes in fury.

Something strange then enters my nose. I sniff the air again, expecting the acidic taste of the bark, but it turns out to be something rather pleasant. Flowers. I turn my head to my side and spot the beautiful arrangement of pink and yellow flowers. Then I spot the clear, blue water with lilies floating on top and my eyes widen.

A pond. That dumb rabbit lead me to a pond.

"Thanks a lot, little guy," I whisper into the empty trees where the rabbit disappeared.

I immediately rummage through my bag and pull out my bottle. I can't filter it out, since the bandages are wrapped around my swollen hand, so I decide to take the risk and plunge my mouth into the water, taking large, heavy gulps. Once my stomach starts to hurt, I fill up my bottle.

I look down at my hand and carefully unwrap the gauze. I look queezingly at my scarred hand. Now that the blood has dried, I can see the skin that's been peeled off. Someone's words-perhaps Abatha's or an instructor's back in the Capitol-flashes into my head. "Water is the first treatment for a burn." A burn, like from a fire? Probably. Isn't this an acid burn? I'm guessing it's pretty much the same thing. I think back to how much better my hand felt after I got out of the pond yesterday. Yes, water will be first step to treating it. That way, it will draw out any more remnants of acid still in my skin and prevent any further damage.

I bite the inside of my mouth hard as I plunge my hand into the piercing cold water. My mouth instantly fills with the metallic taste of blood. The pain is so intense I almost pass out several times and I have to take it, but when I do, the pain is even stronger and I'm forced to put it back in. After several back-and-fourths, it becomes more tolerable and I let it stay it for longer. I then grab the blood-stained gauze and soak it in the pond before gingerly wrapping it around my hand.

I lie on my back for while, letting the discomfort soothe. A faint buzzing sound enters my ears. I look over to a patch of those yellow and pink flowers growing near the bank of the pond. I spot a furry bee whisking across the water. I stare at it in wonder, watching it whisk across the water and disappear into thin air. That can't be right. Where did it go? I look around, but don't spot it anywhere. But the buzzing sound still rings in my ears. From what I can tell its coming closer.

I lift myself from the ground and dart my head left and right, as if I'm expecting someone or something to sneak up on me. When I look around, there's no one. I start to hear footsteps, the same ones I heard when I was being chased. My heart starts beating like there's no tomorrow and panic surges through my body. I feel my muscles begin to twitch uncontrollably and I can't breath. I can't breath! I feel like I'm submerged underwater again. My body shivering, my surroundings darkened and disoriented. Then I feel the choking punches hitting my chest and I want to scream, but I can't. I feel the lights around me getting brighter and brighter until it's blinding me entirely. All I can hear is Caesar's enthusiastic voice screaming in my head, asking me inaudible questions and grabbing my hand so tightly it's like he's trying to rip it off.

"Don't you look lovely," he screams.

"Does she not folks?" he screams even louder. A loud cheering fills my ears.

"Tell me Marisole," his red eyes beam into my own.

"Did he really see you?"

"What did he say?" I begin to hear loud laughter in the distance. It keeps growing louder and louder.

"Does he really love you?"

Before I can answer, I blackout.