Chapter 11

The countdown begins. Sixty seconds is how long we are required to stand on our platforms before we are released by the sound of the gong. Step off before the time is up, and you'll be blown to bits by the mines. The tributes are set out in a ring circled around the Cornucopia, a giant golden horn shaped like a cone with a curved tail reaching about six metres high.

My eyes dart around to find Katniss. She is there, about five tributes to my left. Her eyes are surveying supplies that lay around the Cornucopia. Spilling out from the horn itself, are the most precious items that would give a player a huge survival advantage. Food, water containers, weapons, medicine, fire-starters, and tent packs. On the ground is an array of other supplies, the value of which decreases the father they are from the horn. There are backpacks, torches, sheets of plastic, and small rations of food.

Haymitch's instructions were clear though. We are not to attempt to engage in the battle for supplies. The opening minutes of the Games always involves heavy slaughter as the tributes fight one another to gain possession of the most prized items. This is where the Career tributes often gain their biggest advantage. They sprint to the supplies first and then use the weapons to attack anyone seeking access to provisions. It's brutal, and Haymitch knows that our chances of surviving it are next to nothing.

Nonetheless, when I look back over at Katniss, her eyes seem fixed on a particular location towards the top of the Cornucopia. There's something up there that she wants. I follow her gaze carefully and see it immediately. There, resting on a pile of blankets, is a shiny silver sheath of arrows and a bow. Surely they Gamemakers put it there for Katniss. After her performance in her private session, they will want to see what she can do with a set of arrows in the arena.

I look back at Katniss to find her still focused on this one spot, her body weight shifting in preparation for a sprint. No. Please no. She could be dead before she reaches it. Even if she does get there alive, there will be a swarm of other tributes in close range. She might be able to take one or two out, but it wouldn't be long before they'd be on top of her, too close to shoot. And then it would be just her against the most powerful tributes in the arena, who by then would have their own weapons. It's absolute suicide.

As if she could somehow sense me pleading with her, Katniss breaks her gaze and looks over at me. I shake my head at her, desperately imploring her not to run right into a death trap. It's all I can do.

Time is up. The gong sounds and we are released from our platforms. But I don't run. I stand there, paralysed, waiting to see what Katniss will do. She immediately jumps of her plate, but then looks uncertain. Her feet shuffle around on the spot for a moment before she lunges forward to collect a sheet of plastic and a loaf of bread that lay a few metres in front of her. She tucks them under her arm and continues to sprint forward. At first I think she is going for it. For the bow and arrows at the Cornucopia. But then I see she is headed for an orange backpack that lies another twenty metres away. Before she even gets there, several of the other tributes have already made it to the horn and are grabbing hold of the weapons.

I need to move. Before long, the Careers will launch their assault, targeting anyone still in the vicinity. I take a moment to survey my surroundings. To my right, I can see nothing much at all beyond a flat patch of ground, indicating a sharp downward slope or perhaps even a cliff. Directly behind me is a large lake. Beyond that is a thick landscape of tall grasses. Then to my left is a forest of pines leading to what appears to be dense wilderness. This is where I need to get to. It looks to be the only place that will provide any real cover.

Katniss has reached the backpack now, but so has another boy, the one from District 9. Neither of them seems to see the girl from District 2 advancing on them with a deadly set of knives in her hands. I remember seeing her throw them in training. She never misses.

"Run, Katniss! Run!" I call out. She doesn't hear me. The assailant grabs hold of her blade and flings it at the pair who are now wrestling over the backpack. The knife lodges into the back of the boy and he goes down with a splutter. The girl is already taking aim at her next target, Katniss. Katniss sees the danger and begins to run, holding the backpack above her head for protection. The blade flies through the air and hits squarely in the centre of the backpack as Katniss flees toward the woods. She is closer to them now than me and I need to clear out before the girl from District 2 and the other Careers run out of targets.

By the time I reach the cover of the trees, Katniss has already disappeared. My hopes of being able to follow her rapidly evaporate. With her superior skill in hunting undetected through the forest back home, I have little chance of tracking her without a visual on her location. I pause for a few moments and look around, trying to work out which direction she might have gone in, forgetting the more immediate dangers behind me.

The first spear hits the edge of the tree immediately behind me. Chunks of bark split off and fall to the ground. Without turning to look, my body propels me forward into a sprint. I crash through the trees, jumping over logs and ducking to avoid low branches. I've never been a fast runner, and I can tell by the approaching thunder of steps behind me that my attacker is quicker than I.

There's a loud grunt of effort and I know another spear has just been released in my direction. I dive to the left, but not quite quickly enough. The steel tip slices the edge of my right arm, just above the elbow. My body crashes to the ground and I roll over in agony, instinctively clutching my arm to stop the flow of blood.

Get up, get up, get up! I urge myself. My only chance is to run. I have no weapon and who knows what else the kid behind me is carrying. I've only just scrambled to my feet when a solid force slams into me, knocking me back down. It's the boy from District 1, the one who pushed me at the elevator. He drops the weight of his body on my chest, pinning me down. The boy is bigger than me, but not as big as my brothers. I've been in this position a thousand times before and I know I can get out of it. The opportunity comes when the boy goes to reach for something from his belt, causing his balance to move off centre.

I thrust the core of my body upwards and twist to the left. The boy falls sideways and lands awkwardly, providing me with a brief window to get back on my feet. But I get only a couple of paces before the boy throws himself at me once more. He wraps his arms around my legs, causing me to topple back to the ground. He climbs onto my chest and pins my shoulders down with his knees.

"Gotta bit of fight in ya, Lover Boy," he taunts. "Not for long." He plunges his fist into my face. A swell of blood immediately forms in my mouth. Before I can spit it out, I'm struck with another blow. And another. And another. They just keep coming, one after the other, until I can barely even register each strike.

"There. That should slow you down a bit," he says, reaching again to his belt. I flick my head sharply to the side to prevent the flow of blood from running into my eyes. I immediately regret it when I see what the boy is now clasping in his hands. It's an axe. The shiny, unused blade twinkles in the sunlight as he holds it above my head.

"Too bad your girlfriend isn't here to save you," he says. "Any final words?"

This is it. This is the end. I haven't even made it through the first five minutes. So much for protecting Katniss. I suppose I was never going to be much use anyway. But I at least wanted to be able to go out showing the Capitol that they cannot force the district people to simply be creatures with a survival instinct. That we are capable of something more important, more powerful than the desire to preserve our own life. My love for Katniss proves it. And I want them to know it.

"Yes," I croak out. "You will not win."

"Oh yes? What makes you so sure?" he asks.

"Because there are no winners. The person who comes out alive is only a survivor. As long as the Games exist, the Capitol is the only winner," I say. I know that my words will never be aired around the districts. The Capitol censors this kind of rebellion. But at least it will reach the ears of the Gamemakers. "And in any case, Katniss will be the one to survive," I add with a bloody grin.

"Is that so Lover Boy?" he mocks. "Well, too bad you won't be around to find out." He lifts the axe up high above my head, and I close my eyes, waiting for the impact that will put an end to my life.

"Wait!" A loud voice calls from behind. It's coming from an older boy, about twenty metres off. "Wait!" he calls again, drawing closer.

"What for?" The boy above me yells back.

"We can use him," the other voice says, coming up beside me. I recognise him now. It's Cato, the gigantic boy from District 2.

"Are you serious?" says the boy from 1. "First you want to keep Three, and now you want to keep Lover Boy too? If I didn't know any better, I think you'd want to keep everyone alive."

"Don't be stupid, Marvel. Lover Boy is probably our best chance of finding the girl," Cato says.

"But he likes her. He is not going to help us find her," the boy called Marvel argues.

"You're not thinking it through. Only one can win. Lover Boy knows that if he is going to stay alive, she'll have to die some time. Isn't that right?" Cato says, looking down at me.

I give a feeble nod. "Yes, if I want to survive, she has to die."

Marvel considers this for a moment, and then lowers his axe. "Fine, but if he acts up at all, I'll kill him."

"Not if I kill him first," Cato says with a grin. "Come on, we've got to secure supplies and set up base camp before we can head out for the hunt." He turns back in the direction of the Cornucopia and strides off.

"It's your lucky day," Marvel says as he lifts his body off my chest and rises to his feet. "Right then, let's go." He lays a foot into my side as I haul myself upright, then he pushes me forward after Cato. Marvel walks closely behind me, spear pointed at my back, as we return to the Cornucopia. The raised weapon is completely unnecessary. My arm is bleeding heavily and the swelling that is beginning to form around my eyes is rapidly impairing my vision. If I tried to flee, Marvel or Cato would take me out in an instant.

The gruesome scene back at the launching ground is nothing short of horrific. The bloodbath at the opening of the Games is always horrifying, I've seen them many times before on television. But nothing could have prepared me for seeing death like this up close. Death of people I know. Death of people who just minutes ago, were standing only a few metres away, still breathing, the blood still pumping through their veins. At least half a dozen of them lie lifeless the on the ground. Their pale and bloodied bodies closely resemble their former living selves, but somehow look completely different now. Like there's something missing.

Standing by the mouth of the Cornucopia is the girl from District 1, Glimmer. A small ashen-skinned boy is sitting on the ground a few metres away from her. Glimmer holds an axe in one hand and appears to be guarding the boy. This must be the kid from 3 that Marvel mentioned. He has a slight build and he didn't seem to have any special skills in training. Still, the Careers must know something about him that I don't. They are not known to keep people alive for no reason.

Just as we arrive, the girl from District 2, Clove I think her name is, comes bursting through the woods. "Four! I got four!" she shouts. "Haha! This is even easier than I thought. Why do they always run in a straight line?" She is laughing as she almost skips her way over to us.

Before anyone has a chance to respond, a second voice follows her out of the trees. "They killed him!" The voice cries. "Those dirty rats from District Seven killed him!" The grimacing face comes into view, and I immediately recognise her as the girl from District 4. I never caught her name, but her appearance had struck me. Long, jet black hair and matching dark eyes. She always looked like she was ready to kill someone they moment they looked in her direction. Even when joking around with the other Careers in the lunchroom, she maintained a dark ferocity that made me uncomfortable.

"Killed who?" Glimmer calls back.

"Who do you think, idiot? Brutus!" The dark haired girl shouts angrily.

Brutus is the boy from District 4. Surely no one would have expected him to go out on the first day. He was a large kid that scored a nine in training. Many would have been betting on him to win.

The dark haired girl paces back and forth as she recounts the story of how Brutus was killed. Apparently, while he was beating the girl from 7 to death, the boy from her District came up from behind and hit Brutus on the head with a mace. The dark haired girl killed the pair before they could escape, but Brutus was dead by the time she got to him.

"What a waste!" The girl says in a huff as she finishes her story. "I mean, those rats were going to die anyway, why'd they have to take Brutus with them? And in any case…" She stops suddenly when she spots me standing there, holding onto my bleeding arm. "What's he doing here?" she demands.

Cato repeats his justification for keeping me alive, but the dark-haired girl is not convinced. An argument breaks out among the group. Most of them seem to think that I should be killed right away, but it's Cato who appears to have the final say. "Look, he's staying, and that's that!" he shouts, and storms off. There are a few grumbles under the breath, but no one says anything further.

With Cato gone, it's Clove who takes charge. She is a girl of about 17, with dark brown hair that she wears pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her self-assurance is evident in the way she speaks confidently and carries herself. I expect she believes wholeheartedly that she will win the Games. She might be right, too.

Clove dishes out instructions to each of us for how we will spend the next few hours. The remaining Careers will set up camp, while I will assist the boy from 3 in stacking and constructing the protection of the supplies. Everyone accepts her orders without complaint, as if it was something they had arranged and agreed to before the Games began.

It's not uncommon for tributes to work together like this. In the early part of the Games, alliances are formed where kids work together to survive and hunt others down as a pack. Then, when the numbers begin to thin out, they escape or turn on one another without warning.

The Careers move a few hundred metres off to set up a camp by the lake. The boy from 3 gets straight to work, collecting supplies from around the Cornucopia. He stacks them up in a single pile and instructs me to do the same, politely correcting me when I put something in the wrong place. I watch him carefully, trying to figure out why the Careers would want to hold onto this boy. What could he possibly offer that the Careers don't already have? I try to ask him about it but he evades my questions carefully. In fact, the only real conversation that occurs between us is an exchange of names. His is Felix. But when I tell him mine, he simply says, "Yes, everyone knows who you are."

I come across a large medical kit among the supplies and help myself to the disinfectants and bandages inside to clean and patch up my wounds. I do my best to wrap my arm up with my free hand. Felix does not offer to help when he sees me struggling with the bandage. The end result looks a bit rough, but the bleeding appears to stop after a little while.

It's late afternoon by the time Felix is satisfied with our work. Everything is set up in a large pyramid with a few items sprinkled carefully around the outside. It seems like an odd arrangement. Everything just in the one pile, positioned a strangely odd distance from the camp. The answer must lie with Felix and whatever special skill the Careers are keeping him alive for. But I just can't figure it out and it looks as though Felix isn't planning on telling me.

Clove returns and instructs me to grab some food from the supplies and join her and the others down by the lake for a meal. Felix is not invited though. Instead, Marvel comes back to help him construct some sort of protection for the supply pile. Clove and I grab a crate and fill it with rolls, dried fruits, dehydrated meats, and some empty water bottles. We also pack in some iodide. Any water can be purified for drinking after adding a few drops and waiting about 30 minutes. Tributes without access to iodide can die early from water-related illnesses. I hope Katniss found some of it in that backpack she ran off with.

When we arrive down at the lake, the cannons begin to fire. Each shot represents the death of a tribute. The Career's count loudly as each shot fires. Eleven dead.

"Four of them were mine," Clove boasts again proudly.

"I killed two," Cato says plainly.

"And Drusa killed those two from District Seven," Clove says, referring to the dark-haired girl. What about you, Glimmer?"

"I just got one," she says. "But Marvel didn't get any," she adds quickly, as if defending herself by declaring that she wasn't the worst performer of the pack.

"So, along with Brutus, that accounts for ten of them," Cato says. "I think we can add to that number before the day is through."

I can be sure that Katniss was not one of the nine killed by the Careers. Otherwise they would have no use for me. But there's still one unaccounted for. I tell myself that it can't have been Katniss. She made it into the woods safely and now she will be far away, hidden somewhere out of sight. She is too clever to be picked off so early, and if the Careers didn't kill her, it's unlikely anyone else would have. I keep telling myself these things over and over. But it's little comfort. I won't know for sure until tonight when they play the death recap. At the end of each day, the sky will be lit up with the faces of the victims in the arena that day. It will be a long few hours.

After the cannons cease, a hovercraft appears over the field of bodies that lay strewn around the Cornucopia. One by one, each body is lifted unceremoniously by a claw that is lowered down from the floating ship. The Careers carry on with their conversation while they tear into the food, seemingly oblivious. I have zero appetite, but force myself to eat a roll and a handful of dried fruit.

A rabbit appears out of the bushes about twenty metres from us and hops cautiously down to the edge of the water for a drink.

"Watch this," Clove whispers, rising to her knees. She draws a knife from her belt, grips the blade, and narrows her eyes at the unsuspecting target. The knife hits the animal in the side and it skids along the ground. Its body twitches for a few moments before coming to rest lifelessly in the dirt, a trail of blood running into the water. Clove trots over to collect her kill and drops it down next to the pile of food.

"Ewwww!" says Glimmer in disgust. "What did you do that for?"

"What, haven't you ever eaten rabbit before?" says Clove.

"No. Gross!" Glimmer grimaces as she turns her head away.

"Well it's probably the only kind of fresh meat you're going to get around here," says Clove.

"Yeah, don't be such a princess," adds Drusa.

"Whatever. You guys can eat some disease ridden wild animal, but I'm not touching it," says Glimmer.

"All the more for us, then," says Clove. She digs her knife into the belly of the rabbit. It's clear right away that she has no idea how to gut an animal.

Drusa notices as well. "Not like that! You're going to spill its guts," she says, snatching the animal from Clove's hands. But Drusa isn't a whole lot better. Chunks of meat and fat are coming off along with the hide. By the time she is through with it, there'll be none left to eat. I've skinned and gutted hundreds of animals. Mostly the squirrels that my dad buys off Katniss, but I've done a few rabbits too. It's not hard once you get the hang of it. Drusa clearly hasn't had much practice, and her increasing frustration seems to be making things even worse.

"Um, Drusa?" I venture cautiously.

"What, Lover Boy?" she says, irritated.

"Would it be okay if I had a go?" I say.

Her fierce eyes narrow at me. I can sense I'm balancing on a fine line between useful and offensive. "Fine!" she mutters, then throws the carcass at me.

The others watch on silently as I remove the rest of the skin and separate the guts and organs. I'm done in just a few minutes.

"Looks like Lover Boy actually has some skills," Cato says, sounding pleased with himself. They don't respond. Either they don't want to admit that Cato might have been right to keep me around, or they are annoyed that I was able to do something that they couldn't. Regardless, my gamble seems to have paid off because they begin to include me more in their conversations, as if they are opening up the door to their gang, just a little.

I remember back to what Haymitch told me about getting involved with other tributes. I haven't exactly formed an alliance, at least, not willingly. But I've ended up in a situation where the Careers can use and then discard me at any moment.

I try to build on my credibility by showing that I can make a fire and cook meat on a spit. They seem to appreciate having someone to do the work for them and possibly even impressed that I have the skills to do it. The kids from the Career districts generally won't have had cause to build fires and cook meat in this way. And in training, they all focused on combat rather than survival skills. They rely on being able to secure the supplies and draw sponsors rather than sourcing food for themselves. Maybe if I demonstrate my usefulness in this area, they will assume that I have something to offer in other ways too and decide to keep me around for a little longer. Long enough for me to figure out how to use my predicament to my, or rather to Katniss's, advantage.

Night has just fallen when the meat is ready. As we settle in to eat, the anthem that precedes the death recap begins to play. The seal of the Capitol appears to float in the sky on a large screen that is transported by a hovercraft. The anthem fades out and the sky goes dark for a moment. At home, my family, along with the rest of the district people, will be watching full coverage of every killing. But this information is thought to give an advantage to the remaining tributes. For instance, no one yet knows that Katniss is able to use a bow and arrows, but if she did get her hands on one, her secret would be revealed and everyone would know how to avoid an attack from her.

Here in the arena, all we see is a simple headshot along with the district number of each victim. I take a deep breath and count the faces as they go by. The tributes are presented in district order, so if Katniss is among the dead, she'll be the last face in the sky. My new 'allies' cheer and hoot as each face emerges. The first to appear is the girl from District 3, then Brutus from 4 and the boy from 5. Both tributes from 6, along with the two from 7 that Drusa killed. The boy from 8. Both from 9. That makes ten, only one more. I hold my breath and peer up at the sky. It's the girl from District 10. The Capitol seal returns with a final musical flourish, then darkness fills the sky once more. I let out a sigh of relief. Katniss has made it through the first day.

Seeing the faces of their victims prompts the Career pack to recount the stories of how they made their kills. Each person tries to outdo the last with accounts of their prowess, but it's Cato who scares me the most. His descriptions are less focused on his own actions and more on the responses of his victims. The way he talks about the fear in their eyes and the sounds of their screams reveals a disturbing enjoyment in their suffering. I hope that it is just part of the image he presents to emphasise his brutality to sponsors. But I can detect a genuine satisfaction in his voice that suggests otherwise.

Marvel and Felix come over to join us while the stories are still being told. Apparently the setup is all complete and the supplies are secure. Even though I seem to have earned a little bit of trust with the group, no one is willing to let me in on the secret to how they are protecting their loot.

With everyone fed and rested, Cato announces our plan for the evening. Felix will stay behind with the supplies while the rest of us go out on our first night hunt. The aim will be to move quickly and cover as much ground as possible. His theory is that people will not have had time to build shelters and camouflages yet, so the sooner they comb through the forest the better. Everyone can take whatever weapon they choose, as long as it doesn't weigh them down too much. Cato chooses a sword, Clove a set of knives, Drusa the mace, and Marvel takes two spears. Glimmer selects the bow and arrows, totally unaware that this particular weapon was put here for Katniss. If only there was a way for me to get it to her. The others wouldn't stand a chance. Perhaps I can figure out a strategy for that later. For now, the only way I can help is to try to keep the Careers off her trail.

Cato selects my weapon for me. A single knife. "You're not going to need anything else anyway, since your job is mostly going to be lookout," he says, handing me a pair of glasses.

"What are these?" I ask.

"Put them on and find out," Cato says. I do. And I'm so shocked by what I see that I nearly stumble backwards. Even though it's almost completely dark, everything appears lit up as if it were the middle of the day. I can make out details on the leaves of trees over ten metres away. "These will help you spot Katniss, plus anyone else who is trying to hide out there." He puts on his own pair. "Anything I should be looking out for?" he asks me.

"Uh… Katniss is good at camouflage and building shelters," I lie. "But she won't have had time to make anything good yet so she'll probably have tried to find a natural shelter between some rocks or something." Hopefully this will keep Cato from looking up in the trees, where I expect Katniss will be safely hiding. The others complain when Cato just gives them a torch each, but he simply ignores them and orders us to move out.

We start with a jog. Cato and Marvel take the lead, the three girls are in the middle, and I hang at the back. They are all quite fit, and I find it hard to keep up. But every now and then we break back into a walk and I have time to catch my breath again. We go like this for several hours before we first come across a sign of another tribute. It's a fire. At least smoke from a fire that's burning some distance away. It's easy to see it wafting into the sky with my glasses on. I think back to Portia's final words to me in the hovercraft before the launch and wish this tribute had been given the same advice.

Cato orders the pack to slow down to a walk as we move closer. When we are within range of smelling the smoke, he instructs the others to switch their torches off and calls me to the front to help lead them through the darkness.

We creep along for half an hour or so before we are near enough to see the flicker of flames through the trees. Lying down beside the fire is a small girl who I don't recognise. She is asleep. Completely unaware of the danger that is almost upon her. Although it was a silly move to build a fire, the night has been chillingly cold and this girl must have believed that she'd travelled far enough to be out of range for the Careers to reach her. Still, I find myself getting angry at her. She should have known that a fire would attract human predators. She should have worked harder to withstand the cold. It's because of her stupid decisions that I'm now about to take part in her killing. Of course, it's not really her I'm angry at, it's me. I didn't act quickly enough at the Cornucopia and now I've ended up becoming part of this wolf pack.

I want to call out to her. To warn her. But it would be no use. My allies are close enough to take her out, even if she were to start running now. And then they'd turn on me too and I'd be finished. No. The only thing left for me to do is to join the pack. Show the others that I'm one of them.

Cato gives the signal to move. We break into a sprint. The tributes behind me abandon stealth and turn their torches on as we close in on the girl by the fire. She wakes with a scream and jumps up as if to run. But it's too late. We have already entered the clearing. Her screaming turns to pleading.

"Noooo… pleeeease don't!" she squeals at Cato as he approaches with his sword raised. He doesn't respond. Instead, he thrusts his weapon straight into the centre of her chest in one quick motion. An agonised scream follows as the girl falls to her knees. Cato withdraws his sword and she slumps to the ground. And suddenly it's over. As quickly as that. Just like the rabbit down by the lake.

"Twelve down and eleven to go!" Drusa shouts triumphantly. The group responds with a round of approving cheers. I try to join in enthusiastically.

"Check her for supplies," Clove says to no one in particular. I grab the opportunity. The girl lies lifelessly on the ground, blood still pouring from her chest while I locate the pockets on her jacket. I can see her face clearly now. She's a younger girl, probably around 14. Her frame is thin from years of being underfed. No wonder she was cold. The girl's pockets are empty apart from a single box of matches. I hand them over to Clove but she throws them to the ground in disgust. "We've got plenty of these back at camp."

"Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking," says Cato. Now that the opening bloodbath is over, they will collect the bodies right after each death. But not before the killer has moved on, allowing us a small window to procure any supplies and weapons the victim may have left behind. Anything that is still with the deceased when they are lifted into the air is permanently removed from the arena.

We continue on at a brisk pace. But after travelling for just a few hundred metres, Cato suddenly stops. "Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?"

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately," says Glimmer.

"Unless she isn't dead," says Marvel.

"She's dead. I stuck her myself," Cato defends.

"Then where's the cannon?" Marvel snaps back.

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done," says Drusa.

"Yes, we don't want to have to track her down twice," Glimmer agrees.

"I said she's dead!" Cato shouts angrily.

An argument breaks out. I decide not to get involved in this one.

It's then when I'm avoiding eye contact that I look up into the trees above and spot it. There, amongst a dense patch of willows is a small black clump. It's hard to make out at first, but as I squint my eyes and focus through the night glasses, it becomes clear that what I am seeing is a sleeping bag perched high in the tree. And poking out from the top of it, is an unmistakable dark braid of hair.