Sleep.
Some say now suffer all the children, and walk away a saviour.
Ewan Cole, District Seven Male.
Everything seems so blurred, the way the trees seem to sway and move, wave after wave of heat causing everything to transform and shape into something different, something... new. I'm not hallucinating, I know that much, but I know that I'm injured and whatever happened, whatever that... that thing did, it's affecting me in more ways than one. It's like my arm is literally burning. I scream again, and Justice's pale face appears in my view.
"Be quiet Ewan, you might draw in attention." she says sweetly.
"B-Bit like y-your scream d-d-did?"
"That was entirely different," she frowns. "You need to be quiet otherwise I can't help you."
She pulls forth a cloth - not even wet, just a simple cloth - and she dabs it against my sweating forehead. Her face is that of someone who isn't upset or mortified, but rather placid. Our lives were at stake, I even killed to save her, and yet, she seems far too calm for my liking. If she was this calm when the Mutt was coming towards us, then we wouldn't have had to worry. But no. Justice screamed and everything blew up in our faces.
I struggle to turn my head towards the wound. The gash almost circles my entire upper arm, ripped open and bleeding red. I can see the faint glimmer of pink muscle and white bone. The Mutts claw really dug in and ripped it open. I know now that my right arm - my best, most practical arm - is out of the game. I'll never be able to use it. My chances have gotten slimmer and slimmer with each passing second. And worse of all? It's like Justice is secretly counting down those minutes herself. I wouldn't blame her - I would do the same thing if the roles were reversed. But, I can't help but feel grateful that she's helping me. Then again, I did save her, so she does kind of owe me.
"Don't stare at it," Justice commands softly. "The more you look at it, the more you'll become worried and such. Ignore it and fight the pain."
"I-I-"
"Don't speak either."
All the sudden rules are making my head spin. Whose older here? Who saved who? I suddenly feel like Justice is making more like a mother and less like a person who needs to kill to survive. There's also something very off here. I can't pinpoint it - not with my head spinning and the pain, oh fuck, the pain - but she's suddenly grown up rather quickly now that Challis and Ezra are cleared from the picture.
"W-What are you d-doing?" I quickly breathe out, hoping the pain stops my stuttering. The stuttering makes me feel weak.
She looks up from her crouched position. "Just crushing some berries for you to eat. I doubt you want to chew, so I'll crush it and then you can sip it like a drink."
"H-How thoughtful." I wince.
She smiles that creepy, gruesome smile of hers and goes back to her job, using her hands to squeeze and pulp some berries I can't actually see. I don't think I want to know what she's making me. Justice was close to death on two occasions in the span of, what, a few hours? That Mutt was near her when she went to get some food. Then, it killed Ezra and really, his death should at least be on her conscience. I don't want to be horrible - I don't like her, but I don't go out of my way to make little girls cry - but it's the truth, and yet, Justice acts like nothing matters or happened. Like Challis and Ezra were nothing. I didn't like Ezra too much, but I'm loyal, deathly loyal, and that's one thing people can guarantee on me for. I joined because of Challis and, even after she was killed, I stayed with the alliance through loyalty, despite not even liking them all too much.
"It's almost ready," Justice says again, quieter this time. I look around at the open fields, grass all around me, but I see nothing. Some trees and a few crazy animals walking around lazily in the distance, but nothing urgent. So why's she whispering? "Here you go."
She's suddenly in my face, eyes bright but lips pressed into a thin line. There's a canister in her hand and she pops the lid, leaning it forward. "T-T-Th-"
"This is the berry juice, I guess," she smiles creepily again, finishing my sentence. "It'll make you feel better too. I added some herbal remedies."
"H-H-H-"
"I know enough about plants to know which kill and which don't."
For some reason, I don't trust her, but I'm not in a position where I can neither argue or fight her. I am literally at the mercy of a strange, creepy girl, and I can't do much but pray she isn't a lunatic. Challis would know that, wouldn't she? I mean, the girl wasn't bright - hot but dumb - but she should've seen warning signs if they were there, right?
I raise my good arm to take the canister from her, shaking violently, but she protests.
"Let me do it. You're in no fit to actually hold and drink it. I need some after." she says plainly.
I take a strong gulp and whoa, it's surprisingly doing wonders. I can feel the pain just being flushed out from my body. I still don't understand why Justice needs some, but I can't be asked to question her. This remedy is actually rather good. It's like I can feel and see everything just disappearing from my body, leaving me feeling light like a feather. My head still spins, though, and my eyelashes are suddenly really heavy.
Justice stands up solemnly and moves over to her backpack, producing a shiny object. As she comes closer, I can tell it's a knife.
"J-J-" my own voice is slowly giving up, slurred and thick.
I try to squirm, straining my eyes and pleading with them to stay open. But my moves are sluggish and everything, everything is spinning and I can't... I can't work out where I am. Justice's figure is now distorted, fading in and out as she lowers herself down to my level. The red of her hair is suddenly stronger, burning my eyes with each blurred movement. It makes my head feel like it's about to explode. But, the flushing feel is suddenly replaced with a feeling of icy coldness smothering my body.
"Y-Y-" I say, realising that she drugged me.
I see the flash of silver being hit by the light.
"Sleep tight, my little lab rat."
Lena Romero, District Eleven Female.
A cannon booms, scaring me from my thoughts. I turn to Theon and he shrugs, since, you know, there's not really much we can say until we see the faces later.
I know he doesn't want me here. To be perfectly honest, I don't want to be here either, but I need him. Theon, I've learned, is one of the biggest threats besides the Careers. His age, score and height makes him rather gruff and broad, a sight that would scare anyone into actually avoiding him at all costs. So, I need him. I need him for many reasons, but the biggest is that I can't do this on my own. I'm not stupid; I realise the disadvantages of being a sole tribute. I'm just not that great at making friends. Bracken is fine, you know, me and him have a decent relationship, but he's too reckless and pretty selfish, and besides, he didn't want any alliances.
Theon was on his own. Well, he is now, anyway.
I stumble through the grass until I reach the oasis, a beautiful circle of crystalline water. I found it rather easily - I followed this weird little Mutt that looked like a spiky cat. I just didn't expect there to be more Mutts of different kinds. The pink birds - flamingos, Theon called them - they weren't too friendly. Territorial, actually, as they chased and flapped and pecked at me. All these cuts and bruises on my face are just a reminder of what they done, much like the whips and scars on my back.
In the name of the children, I keep reminding myself.
"There you go," I say, pointing out to the water just a little bit of distance away. "Those little things out there are the ones that attacked and chased me away."
"Stellan never said they were territorial," he muses. "Maybe that's part of the Mutt engineering."
"Could be. Go fill your canister, I'll keep an eye on them."
Theon warily begins to walk towards the birds. I wonder if he thinks I have a plan? Maybe I do, but it's not deadly nor even dastardly. I just want some water and the birds are seriously getting on my nerves. Theon... Theon can easily snap their necks. It's a win-win situation for the pair of us. I smile bitterly as he bends down and begins to fill his canister. People think I'm using him, don't they? Of course they. I can practically hear the buzz of the cameras zooming in on us, waiting for me to run forward and submerge his head under water until he can't breathe... maybe I should do that. Maybe I should play it their way. But, I mean, what would be the point in asking him to join me?
I need some back-up; I need help.
The birds in the distance begin to turn, their pointy beaks and eyes facing our direction. Their stalk legs are wading in the water and the first one - the largest and, I guess you could say, the main bully - steps forward carefully. I didn't see them last time. Before I knew it, a flash of pink was near me and their squawks - so shrill and high-pitched - were echoing with each peck of their beak. They chased me out of their territory and I don't do well with being pushed around.
"Theon, you might want to hurry up," I state calmly, eyes watching the birds as they begin to move themselves into a formation, stepping carefully through the water. He doesn't seem to hear me, though, because he doesn't move any faster. "I said, you might want to hurry... those things - flamenco or whatever - they're coming closer."
Theon suddenly looks up, and the birds begin to run faster. I seem to yell loud, fumbling for the scythe on my backpack. It's a small one, easy for travel. Theon staggers back and tries to collect his mace, but the birds are at the water edge, leaping into the air, just like before. He curls his hand around the mace as I swing my scythe, hitting the first bird that gets near. It flies to the side and lands with a thump. Theon hits another, too, but his face looks anything but pleased. They keep coming, one after the other, and slowly, me and Lean go back-to-back, still hitting and swinging at the pink feathers that seem to swarm forwards like insects.
But they're getting too powerful; too fast.
Theon staggers backwards and I follow, tripping up over my own feet.
I barely see what's about to happen as one of the birds lunges forward at Theon's legs. I try to swing my scythe around, but another bird gets in the way, blocking me from the kill. It's beak, pointed and sharp, darts straight through Theon's lower leg. He howls in pain, blood gushing out as the bird rips it's beak out, dipped red. Theon's face drains of colour, but his mind still works. He manages to swing his mace - harder this time, more angry - and the bird's skull caves in, falling limp.
It's only then do I realise that this bird is bigger than the others... he's the main one. The others squawk and flee across the water, many of their comrades left dead and alone, feathers fluttering through the grass. Theon clamps his hand over the wound and falls down, whimpering under his breath. My mind whirls with guilt and confusion. I take his canister - abandoned - and pour the water over the wound, washing away the blood. Luckily, the beak went straight through his leg, not hitting any bone or veins or anything, I guess. It doesn't look bad; but he'll need something, like pills.
"I'm sorry." I whisper, knowing what it's like to be hurt for someone else.
He looks up and shrugs ever so slightly, his lips quivering, but doesn't say a single word.
I don't blame him, either.
Fawn Asprey, District One Female.
"Why are we missing supplies?" Kit hisses, keeping his voice low.
Ransom shrugs nonchalantly, but you can tell that he's determined to keep the secret from even me and Kit. That's unlike Ransom, I suppose. I mean, when I recruited him, I didn't expect him to be fully trusting of us. But, he did anyway, and that made our job a lot easier. But even now he's holding things back, and that just shows that you can't fully trust anyone in here. Me and Kit... we can, but even our relationship can only extend so far before it's all over.
"Maybe he didn't do it on purpose," I counter in Ransom's defense. "Maybe they slipped out. Once, I had some money in my bag, zipped up, and it just vanished."
Kit frowns at me. "What does that have to do with supplies going missing?"
"Just similar," I shrug. "Ransom might not have known. Right, Ransom?"
When I turn to Ransom fully, our eyes connect, but he still keeps his lips pressed tight and shrugs once more. He's really not letting up. I glance over my shoulder at Minerva and Anubis walking behind us, but they're having a conversation of their own. They're probably planning on taking one of us out sometime soon. The notion makes me feel uneasy, the many different thoughts clouding my mind. At any point, Minerva or Anubis can lunge forward with their long weapons and catch any one of us. It could be me, or Ransom, or even Kit. Kit would be likely since he's the strongest out of us, but Ransom's got bulk and, according to Minerva, I haven't got much going for me besides looks.
Each of us are expendable. Each of us can be taken out when it suits them both.
"Seriously, Ransom, we need those supplies too," Kit says, eyes wincing shut as they continue to trudge through the grass. He trips, but steadies himself quickly. "If you're getting rid of them to spite the other two, then fine, but leave some for us."
Ransom doesn't answer; but he shrugs again.
Maybe Ransom's choosing not to speak because he isn't a good liar? I mean, if you know you're not good, why waste the time and effort to build up the lie if it isn't strong? It could be a secret that Ransom doesn't want to share. And if he needs to lie about it, it might not be convincing, and therefore, there's no point. I've had my entire life practicing my lies.
District One is full of rich, snobby children who are either so rich that they can live a life of luxury, they can afford training at Kingston Academy, or so talented that a scholarship was placed for them. I have none of that, and yet, I'm an outcast in a district I grew up in. So, I lie. I lie to make myself feel better. I lie to fit in, so that I can actually have friends, so that... so that I'm not alone. I grew so accustomed to having to lie day-in and day-out, it's hard to stop; and now all the friends I do have are all false.
That's why I need Kit and Ransom, more so Kit. I need to have real friends, even for a few minutes.
"Does anyone even know where the water is?" Ransom finally speaks up, voice notably quieter.
Kit scans the area and bites on his lip slightly. "I think it might be... it might be over there. I have no idea."
"That's just great."
"You're the one who rid us of our supplies, Ransom." Kit argues back.
That's when he looks down more guiltily. I wonder how Ransom did indeed lose our supplies? As I said, he won't tell us, but there must have been a solid reason. I doubt he's stupid enough to drop them around the arena just so that Minerva or Anubis don't have anything, cause, well, what about us? I doubt, between the three of us, that we have any decent survival skills. I never trained like Kit or Ransom did, but I'm pretty sure I never spent too much time worrying about water and food.
"We need to find something quickly," I cut in. "Time is running out and I can practically hear Anubis chanting down the minutes before he can kill us for failing."
Anubis Cotton, District Eight Male.
"Any luck sniffing out water, Fawn?" Minerva calls out and Fawn shrugs from up front, her tiny shoulders bobbing up and down. I also happen to catch onto Kit's body tensing a little. Ransom has his shoulders slumped, however.
"You better hope you can find some seeing as Ransom has decided to mysteriously misplace our supplies!"
Then his body tenses, too. It's brilliant. All to brilliant. But at the same time, it isn't. That little idiot has somehow lost everything, and now, we're helpless. No water and no food. We have enough for maybe a few of us, but that's it, and that won't last. Maybe we should starve Ransom as punishment. Let him know that his actions, his... forgetfulness, means consequences. Might even punish Fawn just for the sake of getting back at him.
They think they have their little in-alliance so worked out and well hidden. They think that they are clever, that they are smarter than us, pretending there isn't anything there when so clearly, Kit and Ransom would do just about anything for Fawn. If she died first, then what? Would Kit and Ransom be able to hold an alliance between themselves? I hardly doubt it - they no doubt bond over their apparent love for Fawn and that's that. Kit is mildly intelligent whilst Ransom oozes complete uselessness, like two sides of the same coin, but still two different sides at the end of the day.
"I think I see something," Kit suddenly pipes up, a bounce in his voice. "I think... I think I see something in the distance."
"He sees something? Someone should tell him that that is what eyes are for." Minerva mumbles sarcastically, eyes planted on one of her nails.
I smirk, glancing at Minerva and then at the group in front. "And what is it, our flying squirrel?"
"I think... I think it's a..." his words cut off, like a pause, and him, Fawn and Ransom stop almost in sync.
Whatever they are looking at, they aren't letting me nor Minerva see. It's ridiculous how much they want to hide things from them. I mean, sure, me and Minerva have plotted their deaths countless times in our heads and we are kinda praying that Fawn just breaks in half because we're all wondering whether her bones are hollow or not, but the secrets are really starting to piss me off. If they want to be subtle, they aren't doing a very good job.
"Well?" I charge forward with determined steps, not wanting them to hide things from me. No-one dares to try and dethrone me. They don't try and stop me, though, and I thrust Ransom aside so that I can see. And, my eyes do not deceive me; two tributes slumped against a tree. "Ah, so, we've found someone. Hey, Minerva! We found two more tributes!"
I hear a dark chuckle before Minerva's footsteps are rushing forward, and then, she's right beside me.
"Well, well, well," she smirks, fingers tapping the handle of her scythe. "From what I can tell, it's a boy and girl."
"They're lying down... they could be injured." Ransom frets, causing both me and Minerva to give him incredulous looks.
"Wow. Just, wow. You're in the wrong business, Ransom," I shake my head, not really believing that he just said that. "Fawn, how about using your keen animal eye and telling us who they are, okay?"
I can see the glint of fury in her eyes, but it's quickly quenched as she strains them, staring hard at the figures. I'm not approaching them unless I know they are down and that the coast is clear. Frankly, the last thing I want is some pissed off ally just around the corner, waiting carefully for someone to find them. I'm not scared, I mean, who would be scared? Definitely not me. I just don't want to deal with someone whose hiding and has the advantage. I don't want a dirty fight, unless, you know, it works for me.
"It's definitely a girl and a boy," she speaks softly and carefully. "...but I don't know from where."
The way she says that, though, it seems like a lie. Maybe she pities them? Well, she shouldn't be here if she allows such emotions to take over. I mean, who would volunteer and then have a heart about killing? I was forced into this, lets not forget, but I'll kill for the sake that my life depends on it. Minerva kills for the fact that she wants to be, she chose to be, but so did Kit, Fawn and Ransom, and now suddenly they are too good to get their hands dirty.
"Lets go find out," I say, but Minerva has already started to walk, swirling around the scythe like it's a toy. After a while, the others follow, and Minerva begins to skip forward like an impatient child. She stops, peering over with a quizzical look. "Who are they?"
"The boy from District Twelve and the girl from District Five," she replies almost... saddened. "Not exactly what I was hoping for."
"Not up to your standards?" I tease.
She sighs. "No-one seems to be, no. Still, a kill is a kill, right?"
The others are suddenly behind us, their eyes locked on the two unconscious tributes in front of us. Minerva bends over and runs her finger across Twelve's jaw line. "He's unconscious."
"What about he-"
She leaps up as quick as a flash, her small stature and eyes burning as she lunges forward. It takes me and the other Careers completely off-guard. But, she's quick, her nails launching straight for Minerva's eyes. She barely has a second to avoid the stab before she dodges, knocking Five to the side. She screams almost pained and attempts to lash out at him again - but my arms are wrapping around her thin waist, hoisting her from the ground. She screams again as Minerva stands up, eyes flared in anger.
"You little brat," she hisses, whipping her hand across Five's cheek. The slap is so hard, it takes Five's head to the side and I stagger, off-balanced. "You're lucky I don't carve your heart out right now."
There's a second before I see a wad of spit flying into Minerva's face. I laugh, because well, this girl is fiery - maybe she should have been a Career rather than stick-legs, spider monkey and the walking blob.
"I swear, I will make you suffer." Minerva glares, jabbing her finger in Five's cheek.
"No you won't," Five whispers hoarsely. "You clearly have too many issues with needing to impress people, so it'll be quick, just to boost your ego."
I laugh again, watching Minerva's face tint red. The way Five said it; she seems almost oblivious to the fact that she's really pushing her luck. Minerva decides on slapping Five again - rather harsh, and this time, Five cries in pain - before she turns around and faces the unconscious body of Twelve.
"I know how I'll make you suffer."
India Cross, District Five Female.
My heart seizes in my chest as she steps forward, leaning over Colton's unconscious. I scream, thrashing around in the arms of the brute from District Eight. The worse thing is, the second part, I know she isn't lying. Her eye twitched and I instantly knew she wouldn't make me suffer because of her issues. The second time, using Colton, she wasn't lying - she'll kill him to get at me. I've only made things worse. I didn't even mean to, I just speak without thinking sometimes.
"What would you like, Five?" she spits. "Would you like me to torture him, cut in to pieces, carve out his lungs whilst you watch, helpless?"
That's a lie. I doubt she could do it. But she's trying hard to convince herself of that. I always assumed she was prissy, but clearly not... guess everyone has more sides to them.
"You doubt yourself," I say clearly, looking at Colton and pleading with him to wake up. Never, ever have I been wanting Colton to do anything for me so badly. Eight chuckles and causes me to vibrate, but Two is carefully staring. "You're a killer but I can't see you trying to carve out his lungs. It's a messy job and, no offence, but you don't seem like the type who likes to get dirty."
"She has you pegged." Eight laughs from behind me.
She snaps her glare in his direction before back at me. "You've got some balls, you know that? Or you could be completely brain damaged. I wouldn't blame you; I can hardly think a boy from the poorest district and then an emotionally retarded girl would be the best company. They've probably dumbed you down. But, I'll take care of that. I did take her out after all."
I can literally feel my blood running cold. She killed Fay? I didn't... I was unconscious, I don't even... when?
"Ah, so you didn't know that," she continues. "You were really out cold. You shouldn't be so trusting of him; he practically gave up the girl to us. Didn't fight or anything. She was crying and pleading for his help but he walked away."
That doesn't sound like Colton whatsoever. Colton was kind, generous, trusting... he was a friend who helped out two girls at a disadvantage. I swallow thickly and attempt to look around, desperate for a way out that can save both me and Colton. I won't be able to drag his body with me. I need him to wake up.
"Colton!" I scream.
She laughs again. "I'm going to go with the brain damage."
She bends over and, ever so slightly, she runs the tip of her scythe up his chest, pointing the blade at the sight of his bare throat, scarf falling around him awkwardly. My blood runs cold instantly and I try not to panic, still trying to work out a way we can escape; unfortunately, we're limited, but that never stopped Colton from saving and carrying me away from danger. She leans in even closer, inspecting him like a prize.
"I have a better idea, Minerva," Eight speaks, his words drumming against my back, making my whole stomach flip in the process. I thrash about in response, swinging my legs and arms out. I manage to hit him and he growls, throwing me down to the floor. I hit it with a thud and everything rushes at me too fast, the main thing being Two's boot. It collides with the side of my head and a wave a pain rushes over, causing me to scream. "As I was saying. I think Fawn should make the kill."
Stars pepper my vision and I blink rapidly, clawing at the ground and swiping away the stalks of grass in an attempt to... I don't even know.
"I don't really want to." a softer voice comes.
"I don't particularly care what you want," he continues. "Kit is strong and his score proved that. You... well, you need some use, and a kill will do that."
There's some rustling - like bags hitting the ground - and I turn over, facing upwards so I can attempt to see. My whole body is willing and screaming at me to do something, but what can I do? It's like Two hears my thoughts, though, because her foot flies through the grass and slams into my stomach, causing another burst of pain to escape my throat.
"I'll do it." a muscular voice bounds, but I can instantly hear how... how uncertain or conflicted he sounds.
"Really? Think you can handle it?" Eight asks.
"Definitely."
"Guess Fawn's bodyguards will do anything for her." I hear Two mumble, but no-one else argues back.
There's some heavy footsteps and I flinch, dragging myself up on my feet. The moment I'm steady, Eight latches his arms around me too quick for me to respond, so I just scream and thrash about once more. The picture becomes clearer and the boy from District Two - hair covering his eyes - steps forward, a knife curled in his fingers. I scream again, but Eight only slams a hand over my mouth. I continue to scream but it's muffled, and as I attempt to bite him, he only tightens the vice grip around my waist, making it harder for me to breathe. My head is literally spinning as he leans over Colton's body, bringing forth the knife. He swiftly glides it across Colton's throat - he couldn't even fight back. I scream again, tears peppering my eyes.
It's like I'm being forced to watch, and the whole time, his district partner stands to the side with a sadistic smile on her face.
I can barely see the blood pooling around his clothes, soaking them, before I snap my eyes shut and breathe heavily. His cannon sounds and I wince.
"What do we do about her then?" Eight whispers, hot breath ghosting over my ear and making me sob, muted. Within a flash, he throws me down to the ground again and I try scrambling away, taking another kick to the stomach from Two. I cry, falling to the side, defeated. This is it for me. "Minerva, any ideas?"
"Just leave her be," a soft but still firm voice beckons. That must be the other Career - the boy from District One. "She isn't going to be able to do much anymore."
Another boot flies into my head, effectively stopping me from crying, but the pain makes my head spin. I can feel the sticky feeling of blood rolling down my forehead, and it hurts so bad.
"Good idea." she says again, the final kick to my head cutting through the grass, causing everything to go black.
Quinlan Nour, District Nine Male.
I slide the knife into my hand and throw it evenly, watching the animal - a deer, I think, but with horns - jump into the bush. The knife whizzes in there, though, but doesn't meet a target.
"Damn it." I grumble, running over, pushing the large leaves away to see the ground. I curl my fingers around one of my throwing knives and get up, smiling at the surroundings. I'm impressed, I must admit. I didn't think the arena could be so... open. I've never led a free life, and now, I'm like a free animal roaming the world. Except, not so free, but free enough.
Is it bad that I don't feel too guilty about the girl from Eight? I mean, I didn't mean to be so harsh, but we're here for that exact reason. It's not like I chose to do all of this; I have to in order to claim my life back. My boring, controlled life, with a mother that can only but glare at me, a father who wants to make me something I'm not, and a sister that seems to be the epitome of perfection. Still. I'm not a Career; I didn't want to kill, but I don't have a choice.
I keep reminding myself that as I go back to my backpack on the rock, sorting through the stuff I collected.
I don't want to feel guilty over the death of a person I didn't know. I kept to my word to Bailey; I didn't target Fay or any of her allies. I went for Eight, who, as far as I know, lost an ally when Ezra died, which means no ties to me or Fay or anything. Completely open and free to kill.
It doesn't matter, she's dead now. Her death hits me a little harder than I expected. I mean, that's it, all of District Nine will be behind me... is that a good thing? I've always hated pressure, building on your shoulders and then weighing you down so cruelly.
If I win, it's for me, and no-one else. District Nine might get some more stuff, but frankly, it doesn't bother me too much. If I go all the way and win - living with the nightmares - then it's for me and no-one else. No matter how selfish I sound, or lacking of a real reason, I'm doing this all for myself, and that's why I'll do whatever it takes to make sure I win. If I have to kill a girl I didn't know, then fine. If I have to get over Fay's death - even though it's not a big shock - then fine.
If I have to be soulless in order to keep my soul, then fine.
My body suddenly goes cold and I turn around, my backpack abandoned and open. I feel as if I'm being watched, which is stupid, because I am from every single direction. But... it's like someone is narrowing their eyes on me. I quickly spin around and grab the satchel containing my throwing knives, slipping another out. Maybe it's just an animal, in fact, I hope it is. The bushes all around me don't move, however, even though a deer was just there moments ago. Maybe it came back?
Something doesn't feel right.
Something in the air, the ground, it feels... disconnected.
I just know there's something strange going on. A tribute is watching me, I know it. Or an animal. God, I hope it's an animal.
I laugh bitterly at the thought of that. I don't care about killing, I admit I'm heartless, and yet I'm still worried that I might have to face someone. I'm scared I'll lose, I admit it. I'm a kid after all. I'm heartless and mean, I don't care about others, so I'm selfish, but that doesn't mean I'm not terrified of being killed.
I shake away the thoughts and slowly put the knives away, an unsettling wave rushing over my body, making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise.
It's only then do I hear a tingling sound - like a bell - and I look up, the silver and white parachute drifting down so carelessly. I grab the container within an instant, finding that my sponsor gift is nothing but an apple. I frown, but really, that's all I expected. The note, however, only makes my worse fears come true. My heart sinks as I read every detailed word from Buck.
Keep watching. You have company, Quinlan -B
I snap my head around and gaze out into the long grass... someone is out there, I knew it. I'm being stalked like prey, much like that deer earlier. What a twist of events that leave my heart racing harder than normal. I wonder who, though? Who would be dumb enough to try and take me own, when my throwing skills are decent enough to land a hit somewhere?
There's only one answer, and I gulp thickly at the prospect of it being true.
Whoever is stalking me is much more skilled, much more confident, much more... dangerous.
Sleep by My Chemical Romance.
The blog for this story is wildone hunger games . blogspot - all deaths will be notified here!
Ewan Cole, District Seven.
Colton Dacanay, District Twelve.
All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.
Jasmine, I loved Ewan, but there wasn't really much left for him.
June, you too, Colton was good but he couldn't have survived with just India protecting him.
I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!
Does anyone want to predict any deaths next chapter?
And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!
Things are settling in for our tributes. Some are hurt, some are fine, some are slowing becoming darker and broken already.
As a pre-warning, if a character isn't mentioned in a chapter, you can ensure that they are pretty much fine like last time.
A lot of the Mutts will be showcased, but not all tributes will die from Mutt attacks. The idea is, these animals are indeed wild, which means yes, they are all dangerous, but no, not all of them attack for the sake of food/predator-prey. Just don't expect to know. Flamingos aren't aggressive in real-life, but territorial here. So, don't place your bets on the animals acting like real-world counterparts.
And because these animals are wild, you can expect that the tributes will indeed still be killing each other for the most part.
...and the arena is huge. But our tributes will still find each other ;)
...and again, don't forget the second injection.