District Five: Melanie Darrow
Ha! These people are all complete idiots!
Well, not all. And not complete, either. That District Three kid had some wits around him, before he died. (Did District Two snap his neck or something?) But seriously? Putting mines around the food supply, where any bag of apples could tip over and blow up the whole pile? Smart move, Careers. Now you're going to have to scramble like the rest of us.
Speaking of scramble, I needed to find a new food supply. Maybe I shouldn't have been so dependent on them, after all.
Salvage what you can, Mel, I think, sifting through the pile of ashes and producing a metal pot, a few knives, and-what's this? An arrow? What kind of airhead tries to shoot an arrow into a food supply? Trying to destroy it-a flaming arrow?
The airhead was lucky that the food blew up before they found it, or else they'd have been toast.
Scram! a voice tells me, just as I hear a faint rustle from a distance. I cock my head to the left and dart back to my den.
I go searching out for food and am rewarded by some wild berries-the ones that vendors sell to the community home every Friday as a treat, the ones that I used to steal just for fun. I was always greedy, and that hasn't changed. I ate half the bush.
The long stretches of inaction in the Hunger Games gave my rare opportunities to ponder. I contemplated the arrow that I had found, and tried to think of who was left in the Games. District One boy. District Two, both the boy and that girl-Clove, I think. District Ten-no, he was killed off yesterday. Tiny District Eleven girl, and her monster of a district partner. Peeta, from District Twelve, miraculously. And Katniss. Dear Lord, Katniss...
It made me sick, really. Beautiful, what with Peeta falling head over heels for her. Skilled, what with her famous 11 in training. Kind, considerate, tragic... and with little common sense, I figure. Did you see her twirling around in her sparky dress? I mean, come on. "That is the height of superficiality, my friends," I muttered absentmindedly, as I was prone to do during long periods of contemplation. As I felt certain that the cameras were hoping for me to say something dramatic next. I indulged them with a sigh. "Ah, for a world in which wit were appreciated. I think she'll be my next food supply, if she's a good hunter..."
Suddenly it clicked. Katniss has got to be a good hunter, as she hasn't shown any signs of viciousness. That was her skill. And what's the most common hunting weapon for the poor? Bow and arrow.
That was it. Katniss had shot an arrow into the Careers' food pyramid-and she probably had impeccable aim, to get an 11. Had she meant to knock something over, or done it my accident?
By accident, probably. Who could've guesssed that the mines were reset? Certainly not me. And now, from the explosin, she must be in some way crippled, be it her leg or her bow arm or her ear.
The perfect victim is the one who thinks they're the cleverest person in the world.
Wow, these are getting increasingly longer...but expect drabble-length for the next several, since I have to invent characters. Don't forget to suggest, and everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.