I darted off the platform and found out at the same time as all the other tributes that the ground wasn't snow after all. It was ice. I fell flat on my bottom and scrambled to my feet. The slipperiness completely dissuaded me from running in any further, so I doubled back and sprinted toward the sloping cliffs. As I passed my platform I saw a belt with a tiny bag attached and a jar. I scooped them up without stopping and ran until the Cornucopia was out of sight. I heard shrieks and screams from around the Cornucopia. I knew it should have bothered me. I felt sick for the way I reacted, but all I could think was that if a tribute was killing someone else, they weren't killing me.
The screaming stopped quickly. I half slid and half ran until the ground flattened out. The scattered pine trees and rocky cliffs blocked my view of the Cornucopia, which meant I was safely out of sight. I looked around, and the only break in the icy void was a few belts of trees which weren't thick enough to hide in but were thick enough that I couldn't see through them.
At the bottom of the hill the snow was a foot deep and soft. I stood at the edge of the ice and looked out. Either I left tracks or I stayed close enough that the other tributes would be sure to find me. I opted for the tracks.
I ran through the nearest line of trees to further reduce the chance I would be seen, but the tracks I left foiled that plan. I was relieved to see the snow on the far side of the trees was hard again. The cold air left my throat raw and I tasted blood as I panted. There were two clumps of trees on the icy patch. I picked the one on the left and kept going. I didn't stop until the tip of the hill was on edge of the horizon. At that point the threat of other tributes became secondary to the threat of freezing. I sat at the foot of a pine tree and took inventory of my supplies.
The belt bag held a compass, a plastic bag filled with cotton balls, and a compass. I had no idea what I could use a compass for. I knew the cotton balls were for starting fires, but I'd have to be a lot colder to try that. At least it was better than nothing. I unscrewed the top of the jar and found that it was full of peanut butter. I wouldn't go hungry, but it was far from a balanced diet.
A cannon boomed, and I jumped. The Bloodbath was over. That meant two things: a lot of tributes were dead, and the survivors would start looking for more kills.
I counted six cannons. It wasn't a particularly violent Bloodbath. One year half the tributes died in the first twenty minutes. The thought of death brought me back to the matter at hand. The first thing I needed was shelter. I could feel my fingers freezing already. My ears were cold to the touch and they felt like they were burning. I didn't want to know how cold it would get after the sun set.
I looked at the sky. The sun was already dipping low. The Gamemakers must have started the Games in the afternoon.
My first thought for shelter was the trees, but none of them had branches lower than ten feet off the ground. I remembered my experience with the rope course and discarded that plan. Most of the tributes were probably in the nooks and crannies on the hill. The career pack would be nice and cozy in the Cornucopia.
As I searched among the trees, I noticed one that had fallen over. I got on my hands and knees and crawled along its length. It had carved a shallow depression in the ice on the ground. I squeezed into it. There was just enough room for me to lie flat, with about two inches between my head and the trunk. I looked out and I could just barely see a sliver of ground beside the tree.
It's shelter, I thought. But it's still freezing. I can't spend a night like this. I slid back out and snapped off a handful of branches. I lined the bottom of the hollow with them and climbed back in. They were scratchy and my hands were sticky with sap, but it wasn't as cold. Before I went in I looked at the sky. The sun was already setting, and it seemed to cut the temperature in half. My fingers stiffened and refused to move. I felt my ears and couldn't tell if it was them or my fingers I couldn't feel. I burrowed under the pine needles, wrapped the belt around my ears and head, and snuggled in. I tucked my hands against my stomach and gasped as the freezing skin touched my belly.
I focused on regulating my breathing and staying still. As long as I stayed perfectly still, nothing could happen. I was safe and warm in my little hidey-hole. It was quiet and solitary. I was probably the only tribute who went so far from the Cornucopia. There was nothing I could do but wait until morning.
A cannon went off.
Someone froze to death, I thought.
Another cannon came a few minutes later. I lay curled up in my nest for hours, and the only break in the silence was cannon after cannon. I tried not to count, but each one echoed in my head.
Five, five, five. Six, six, six.
The night wore on without the Anthem playing. Usually it played about an hour after the sun was fully set. It wasn't morning when it played. The sun hadn't even started rising yet, but it seemed somehow a little less dark when the first note blared from the sky, causing me to jerk up and hit my head on the trunk. I poked my head out cautiously and watched the sky.
The Anthem finished, and the first face appeared. I didn't know him. Next was the boy from 3. That meant the first face was a Career. They hardly ever died on the first day. Maybe their alliance had already broken. The girl from three was next. The alliance was still together after all. Lure was next, and then what looked like her district partner. Another boy and girl followed, then two girls, a boy, a boy and a girl, and-
Leather.
I watched as Leather's face blinked away. I wondered if he'd died in the Bloodbath or frozen to death. I hoped it was the latter. I knew it was wrong that he died. I knew he was a priceless, irreplaceable human being that was gone forever. But it didn't make me sad. It didn't make me feel anything. He was there, and then he was gone. I couldn't change it and life went on. I wanted to cry for him and feel the pain he deserved. I was as cold as the arena, and it would never change. I hoped he had someone to mourn him properly.
Four more faces followed. Eleven and Twelve were all gone. Seventeen tributes were gone. Seventeen children were dead, and I didn't feel a thing. I didn't know which was worse.