A/N: Thanks for continuing to read this story, the support means a lot to me! Special thanks to richards25, Vykktor, Purplo9 and Violagirl23, who are my reviewers from the first ten chapters.
There's a familiar face in this chapter. Hopefully you'll enjoy it :)
"Raise the flag up for the noise
Wake the dogs up, call the boys
Are you ready for the war?
Bring your colours to the floor."
- Keith Flint, 2009.
The 11th Annual Hunger Games
Margaret 'Mags' Tyler (17), District 4 Female
The Prodigy - Colours (2009)
Despite the humidity, the wind gives a cooling effect as I stand atop the outcrop of rock, looking down over the island. The wind tousles my long, light brown hair, which now flows back over my shoulders. I lean into the strong wind to keep my balance, so much so that if the wind were to stop, I would topple over the edge. Thinking about this, I lower myself to the ground and find a seat among the rocks and stare down at the devastated land beneath me.
Two hundred feet below this rock outcrop, there is the rest of the arena. An island, nearly all covered in a jungle similar to that of last year's Games, with white sandy beaches surrounding the perimeter. Among what remains of the jungle after this morning, there are four tributes remaining. Of those, I can see one, blackened by the fire, straggling along the edge what remains of the greenery by the coast. I think they're male, so they are from Districts 2, 5 or 7, but I can't tell which. Not from this distance. Whoever it is, I doubt they'll last long.
In comparison to the boy on the beach, I've had an easy time in the Games. Before the Games, I was chosen to represent District 4 when I won the trial Games in the Training Centre, a month before the reaping. Unlike the usual tributes from District 4, I didn't win due to my strength, stamina or technical ability. I won because I am a survivor. Because I could find a way to survive where the other trainees could not. Of course, being a mock-up of the Games, nobody really died, but if those Games had been the real thing, I would be a victor by now.
This year, at the reaping, the trainers at the Training Centre (previous victors Fraser, Adrienne and Armando) have changed what they expect from trials winners.
Until this year, the winner of the two trials (one male trials, one female trials) would volunteer as tribute, no matter who is chosen from the reaping bowl. However, even for a Career tribute such as those from District 4, chances of survival in the arena are slim.
So that we didn't just throw our lives away, we had been instructed not to volunteer if the chosen child had any chance of winning. We (myself and the male trials winner, Adrian) had been told not to volunteer if the reaped child was fourteen years old or older. Although the youngest victor of the Games was District 9's Charity Green (aged 16 at the time), a fourteen-year-old came second last year, showing that anyone as young as fourteen stands a chance in the arena.
So Adrian and I were instructed to volunteer if the reaped child was aged twelve or thirteen. And when a name was pulled from the girl's bowl at this year's reaping, the name belonged to Danica Davis, a twelve-year-old. And so I volunteered for her.
In the male bowl, a fourteen-year-old called Kyle Bennett was reaped. Not particularly strong, but due to his status as being from District 4, he was welcomed into the Career Alliance during training. He even managed to get a score of seven from the Gamemakers. It was low for a Career, but not disastrous.
I, however, shunned the other Careers from the moment I arrived in the Capitol. I knew from the moment that I volunteered that I would win the Games the same way I won the trials in District 4; I would outlast the opposition.
I still have reasonable weapons skills; six years at the Training Centre have made me rather lethal. But I don't like to use weapons. I'm no murderer. Still, they helped me pull a nine in training, further confusing the five Careers I abandoned.
When we arrived in the arena, the cornucopia was set down on the beach at the south end of the island. I didn't run into the bloodbath, but grabbed the nearest backpack and escaped into the woods. I was lucky that the backpack contained a knife.
Since that first day, when I ascended the mountain for higher ground, I've barely lost the height advantage. I have remained constantly near the summit, only venturing ten or twenty yards into the woods for the nuts and berries that are my sustenance. As for warmth, I keep a continual fire, which serves a dual purpose, as it distills water for me. I collect water using coconut shells from the sea, and let the cool underside of rocks to condense the water again. Personally, I see it as quite a clever solution, considering I have no iodine solution to purify the water, and none of my sponsors have bothered to send me any. However, my sponsors have bothered to send me extra matches, to ensure that my distillation fire that is the key to my survival stays alight. Only when I realised that I had an abundance of matches (I seldom let the fire out) two days ago did I come up with the idea of the fire trap.
Using fires built of dead wood to start the blaze, I could get the whole jungle to catch fire. No doubt a few would perish in the inferno, and the others would fight it out amongst themselves before coming for me. An armed Career with an altitude advantage. The others would be foolish to come for me unless nobody else is left.
Then, this morning, on day thirteen in the arena, with nine tributes remaining, I lit the fires. And everything worked perfectly.
The inferno spread quickly about the island, obliterating the jungle. Amidst the myriad of colours as the arena burned, chaos ensued. One cannon. Two cannons. Two more. Four dead in half an hour, and the arena wasted. I can tell that the Gamemakers played a part in their deaths; the fire spread too quickly to be entirely natural. At least the Gamemakers are on my side. For now.
Looking back down at the struggling figure on the beach, I can see another, slightly shorter figure approaching the boy from behind. I can only tell who this tribute is by the unmistakable streak of silver through the long black hair of the eighteen-year-old girl from District 3. And even from a mile away, I can see the blade glint in her hand as she lunges for the boy.
Then the cannon sounds and the boy lies dead on the sand, and the dark-haired girl from Three blends into the ashes of the jungle once more.
Now only four of us remain in the arena. And of those that remain, I should be the favourite. I'm a Career. I'm in control of the most favourable location in the arena; the mountain-top. I'm armed and unscathed. Soon the sponsors will be flooding in. And then the remainder of the Games will be a formality.
But for now, I'm going to hold my ground and stay where I am.
I'm the Queen of the hill, and the other tributes will have to dethrone me if they want to leave this arena alive.
On the morning of the fire, the eighteen-year-old from District 3 - who was gaining vast amounts of sponsors at that stage of the Games - killed the boy from District 2, leaving four tributes alive in the arena.
The boy from District 7 escaped the inferno by seeking safety on the hill, where Mags lay in wait that afternoon, taking the numbers down to three. The boy from District 5 was dead the following afternoon, killed by the girl from District 3, who was armed with two daggers.
The final battle of the 11th Games came three days later, when the girl from Three decided to approach Mags at the summit of the island, but she was at an immediate disadvantage. As she had done throughout the Games, Mags was able to utilise the land around her to see herself crowned the victor of the 11th Annual Hunger Games.
A/N: Please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcome :)
