I run.
Fast.
Behind me I can hear trampling footsteps in water, the sounds of people approaching through the fog.
Think Wiress, THINK!
This thought is the only one I am conscious of.
And run. Though that's more instinct, fight or flight reflex.
I've never been much of a fighter. I couldn't pick up half of the weapons.
"There she is!"
I turn around in the marsh to see 5 people working their way through the mud towards me. The Career pack.
The largest one steps forward.
"Let's make this quick, I'm tired"
He pulls out a sword and steps towards me. I attempt to move, to run away, but when I look down at the floor, I see not my feet, but my knees, slowly sinking into the ground beneath me. This is not good.
The boy looks down at me, leering, holding the sword at his side.
"You're in a sticky situation then…" He grins and lifts the sword up.
My brain is screaming at me to move, but my body won't comply. I close my eyes.
Phlup.
Phlup? I've never believed in an afterlife, but if it did exist, I'd assume it wouldn't sound like phlup. I open my eyes again, and see the boy who was to be my murderer struggling desperately against the ground pulling him in. I also realise that I am sinking quicker.
That sound was gas escaping from the mud, meaning a decrease in density of the mud, meaning buoyancy has gone down.
Basically, I'm sinking quicker now. And the boy. Don't forget him.
His sword has already sunk down, dragging his arm further in with it. The screams he is making sends his allies scattering away. He is alone with me, writhing in the mud, like he is a part of it. I am still standing still, mostly out of shock.
Basic logic, the body is still less dense then quicksand, it's sand right? So the only reason he's still sinking is either the fact he's struggling, or the fact he's still holding onto that bloody sword. I need to increase my surface area.
Calmly, I lean back, and watch as my legs slowly lift out of the mud, like the hovercrafts to pick up the dead. I now start to drag myself to the small, grassy island I was running to in the first place. Slowly but surely, I make my way up.
I look back at the boy. He is still sinking, struggling to pull himself out. He's up to his neck now.
"Please" he croaks, the mud rising up to his chin. "I don't want to die. Please"
He then begins to make gurgling noises, due to the mud in his mouth.
I watch him slowly sink beneath the surface, leaving only the sword's tip above the top. Bubbles appear. Then they stop. I stand there, in shock.
I watched him die.
I did nothing.
The Gamemakers wanted someone to die.
I didn't
He did.
I killed him.
