A/N: Here is the long awaited Day 2! I have been SO busy so WW and CYE will not be getting updated for a little while.
Hayden Cultzealot, 16 (written by Xyncisthe)
District 12 Male
Night is quickly ascending and I am still walking with an ally of sorts; the boy from District 10. He is quiet which is good because I am not a fan of small talk. However, sending him a sidelong glance makes me cringe just a little.
Feeble, pathetic child. He looks every inch like a coward; the sort who would ditch and run as soon as calamity hits the alliance. But looks may be deceiving... I shake my head inwardly. I am certain of this boy. If a dangerous but injured enemy comes, he would sooner run than attempt a killing blow. So comes the next question, is he a big enough threat? In due time, everyone is a threat so why not remove him now?
My hand curl tighter around the handle of the battle axe. It would be a quick one since he is technically in the alliance. I pause in mid thought as I spied the scars along his face. A coward with a miserable past perhaps? Could he possibly one of the three dreamers who tried to escape the reaping? If so, then perhaps he is not a useless coward after all; he could very well be a foolish coward with very good survival instincts.
"What do you hope for?" I ask quietly as we walk through the dense forest looking for the other half of our wayward alliance, "What do you dream of?"
He looks at me startled and I let slip a sly smile. That should warn him enough that if he ever dreams of trying to kill me, I would not hold back my punches. Allies can become enemies on the next sun rise; there is no such thing as forever, and I am more than ready to kill anyone especially Saffron Edinburgh.
"I..."
A series of quiet murmurings distracted me from his answer and I crouch down. One hand ready with the axe, the other parted the bushes slowly. In one quick and fluid moment, I swing the axe and bring it down on the unsuspecting other half of the alliance. I barely stop from killing both of them in one swing. Startled and paralyzed eyes stare fearfully at me and I scoff.
I am a predator in an alliance with one helpless rabbit also known as useless spoilt princess, a foolish dreamer who is also the coward, and a ridiculous flamboyant who Bonher wanted me to ally with. I look heavenwards and sigh. I might as well have my own shrewd pleasure while I endure this alliance.
"Are you fucking crazy?" Ridiculous shouts as he holds Hopeless in his arms, "Are you trying to fucking kill us?" He presses firmly on the light graze that I gifted her with; a simple light flesh wound.
I raise an eyebrow at him, smirk and approach him with a sneering face. "If you're so afraid for her, remove the burden," I whisper coldly and I feel a sly and chilling smile stretch its way across my face, "Or better yet, die for her; pathetic sentimental fool." My last three words were uttered with cold precision and delight dances within me as I notice how terribly stiff he was. Honestly, nothing is more ridiculously weak than a pathetic sentimental fool.
"Hey quit it," Foolish hovers around hesitantly as he placed a hand on my shoulder gingerly. I shrug it off, fix him with a challenging look before I scoff and turn away. Why did I have to be in an alliance with such a crowd of hapless fools? I look Heavenwards and curse under my breath; is this karma?
Suddenly, my ears twitch and my hand immediately tighten its grip around the battleaxe as my eyes scanned the surrounding trees. There is rustling, movements from within the bushes; something or someone is coming closer- an animal, an enemy or a neutral? I tense and…
There!
I turn around my heel, lunge forward and swing the axe just barely above and behind Ridiculous' head. The lion evades the move at the last minute and a small wound graces its chest. "Get out of the way burdens if you're planning to live," I growl as I lock eyes with the beast and begin a deadly dance of circling and seizing the other, "There might be others nearby; stay focus." Within a blink of an eye, my legs spring forward as the axe meet the mighty claws of the lion. Blood spatters across the clearing and a song echoes in my head as my heart beats a quick steady tempo. Breathing is difficult but somehow it is becoming easier; it feels as if I do not need to breathe.
I hear nothing. I see nothing. I feel nothing.
For the next few seconds (or minutes) of my life, everything becomes obsolete as my body hones all its senses to channeling the adrenaline rush and awakening my sense of self-preservation. I would probably never register, never mind remember them ever but perhaps my body will.
I will not die until vengeance is served. I will not allow that.
My subconscious is surfacing again. I am waking soon. This dance is ending soon; I feel it but something is wrong. Something is dreadfully wrong. As I finally deliver the final swing that decapitates the lion, a guttural scream breaks through the fog around me. A loud long sobbing continues the melody and I turn to face my wayward alliance. The Hopeless is dead. Ridiculous is bawling. Foolish is stunned. And I am indifferent. None of them matter to me; die for all I care and I will grieve and mourn for none. I cross my arms across my chest and wipe the axe nonchalantly as my living allies grieve for the deadweight. Oh boy, this is going to be one long night; quite possibly one of my longest nights.
"Hayden, Paisley is dead," One of the two choked but I am not concern with who it was. The sound of the cannon reaffirms and I feel my smile slip just a little around the corners.
"And so?" I challenge without looking up as I continue about my business, "She is too weak to live; she doesn't have a right to walk amongst predators."
Ridiculous stomps over and hesitates to grab onto the lapels of my shirt. Perhaps my eyes are warning him or the blade that seats proudly in my hands that made him decide against grabbing me. "You bastard!" he screams and I lift a shoulder in a non-committal shrug, "Too weak? Just like Exella then? You bloody fucking asshole!"
I look up upon the mention of my partner's name and I know my face has become dark and dangerous. Was Exella weak? Yes; weak like a soft-hearted, weak-willed sacrificial lamb. Did Exella have any rights to walk amongst predators? No; not at all. With the most malicious yet gentle smile, I agree with him, "Yes; even Exella has no right to live and walk amongst predators."
"You fucking son of a bitch! Fuck you!"
Raphael Hume, 17 (written by Elim9)
District 10 Male
Paisley is dead.
Dead.
And I did nothing. We did nothing – Sans and I. Nothing but stand there as Hayden fought the beast. We were frozen. Useless.
How long before Hayden realizes it?
No, he already has, I'm sure. Whatever his reason for allying with us, it wasn't for our fighting skills. So the real question is, how long before he decides to do something about it?
My train of thought is interrupted by Sans shouting. "You fucking son of a bitch! Fuck you!"
Great idea, Sans. Antagonize the best fighter in our little alliance. Right after he saved our lives.
Because, yes, Paisley's dead, but the truth is that Sans and I would be lying there with her if it weren't for Hayden. Whether he meant to or not, he saved our lives. We owe him for that.
But that doesn't mean for a second that we can trust him.
Sans' tirade is interrupted by the blaring of the Capitol anthem, and Paisley's face fills the sky. I swallow hard, fighting back tears. She didn't deserve this. Any of this.
But it had to happen.
Sooner or later, quickly or slowly, peacefully or not, her death was a necessity. In order for me to go home, she had to die. And Hayden will have to die. And Sans will have to die. I knew that when I agreed to this alliance.
But why did it have to be now? And why did she have to be first?
Paisley's face is followed by the boy from Eleven. And that's it. Two. Just two tonight. Along with the nine faces from last night, that makes eleven. Eleven dead. Thirteen of us left.
I glance over at Sans, who has turned his back on Hayden and is now kneeling beside Paisley's lifeless body, sobbing. I avoid Hayden's gaze, not wanting him to see the tears in my eyes. Not wanting him to think I'm weak.
What's the point? He already knows.
He already knows I'm weak. He already knows I'm useless. He already knows I'm a coward. But maybe – just maybe – if I can hide my tears now, he'll think Sans is weaker, more useless than I am.
Maybe he'll turn on Sans first.
Because that's why they did it – the Gamemakers. To drive us apart. It has to be. Paisley's death may have seemed random. Arbitrary. But nothing in the Games ever is. Everything the Gamemakers do, they do for a purpose. They knew – they had to know – that Paisley was the one who had brought this alliance together. That she was the one holding it in place.
Maybe they hoped her death would shatter it.
And maybe it didn't. Not instantly. But there are cracks. There's tension. Mistrust. Maybe there always was, but maybe it took Paisley's death to bring it out into the open. Eventually, this alliance will break.
So should I simply leave now? Take my chances out there in the forest, alone? My gaze strays to the body of the fallen mutt. If there's an argument for staying with Sans and Hayden a little longer, it's written there, in a mess of blood and fur. If I had been alone when that had attacked, I would be dead. I'm alive now because I decided to wait. Decided not to leave.
I can wait a little longer.
Milo Thetras, 14 (written by StarryInfinites)
District 5 Male
"Milo do you know how to fish?" Maylin asks, a smile suddenly flashing across her face as she notices the pond we camped beside.
I shake my head, "No I don't," I tell her. I'm from District Five, how on earth would I know how to fish. Then I realise what she means. A grin forms on my face as I ask, "Are you planning on teaching me?"
She laughs a little, either meaning I've been a complete idiot, or I've actually caught on correctly. "I sure am," she tells me, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder, "that way you'll know how in case we get separated or I die or something like that."
I look at the ground, biting my lip. She just says it so calmly, almost jokily. I don't know if I have a chance without her helping me. Maylin dying; that would scare me. She's my ally, and she's one of the few people in the whole of Panem I trust with my life. She's had the chance to kill me, she hasn't taken it. She went looking for me. She's my ally, and I don't want anything to happen to her.
After settling the small pack on her shoulders she picks up my trident, gesturing for me to follow. I do, kicking the leaves on the ground in the air, watching them fall before me. It's kind of metaphorical, this arena, fallen leaves, fallen tributes. It's forest, more leaves fall each day, and more tributes. Eventually there will only be one leaf, one life, one victor. That, I hope, will be me.
"There are a few ways to turn this into a fishing instrument," Maylin tells me, roughly handing me a thick brach, "One is to use your knife. Can I see it?" I hand it over, not sure what I'm meant to be doing. She begins to carve into the stuck, whittling away small parts at a time, using the knife I retrieved from the cornucopia.
Maylin hands it back to me, using the same technique to create her own weapon. She wades into the cold water, it reaches just a over her knees. I try to follow her, skidding on the rocks on the pondbed. I manage to hold my balance, being sure I don't fall into the ice cold clear water. She teaches me how to use the weapon, which admittedly, is not a skill that comes naturally to me.
"The spear isn't working, I can't do it," I say grumpily, chucking the spear into the water. Why can't it just hit the stupid fish. There are do many swimming around my feet, and I somehow manage to miss them all.
Eventually, with careful guidance from Maylin, I hit a fish, and was relieved I did, as I was shivering due to the temperature of the water.
"Here you go," I say, handing the fish to Maylin, who says the fish was a carp, not that I'd know. Apparently it was just your average freshwater fish. She sets it down beside her own catch. I look at our food, my stomach rumbling.
I turn round to find Maylin putting a handful of long grass in my hand. I look at her in confusion, don't we have enough food? She knows what I'm thinking.
"Milo, we may as well eat as much as we can while we can," Maylin tells me, she seems so confident, her perfect wide smile across her ever-optimistic face.
"It's better to catch it now then try to eat little and save it, but have a load. Then we don't have to risk lighting the fire again," I mumble. The more fire we have to light, the more chance we are seen by the careers. It is understandable that I don't want to have the careers attacking me. If we can have enough food to last is the next few days it will be better, but seemingly Maylin has other ideas, and she's the one who fishes.
I look at Maylin, who is busy digging through the mud by the bank of the pond. She looks up, and hands me a worm. At first I am surprised, but then I realise her intention, bate. Maylin threads the blade of grass though the body of the worm, without being told I copy. I'm used to the whole fiddly copying thing, so I'm quite easily in my comfort zone as I tie the blade of grass to the branch that my ally calls a rod.
I sit for a few minutes, watching the sun rise, it looks beautiful, reflecting off the delicate autumn leaves, light flickering up from the pond below. Then I feel a tug, taking me by surprise, another catch.
I gather some of the dryer wood, it produces the least smoke, and hand them the Maylin along with my fish. She takes them from me without a word and begins to fillet the fish, remove the bones. I leave her in peace.
That was Maylin's thing, I decide that I should probably make use of myself as she cooks. The shelter we currently have isn't quite up to scratch, so I decide to make it my project for the remainder of the morning. Maylin managed to grab some duct tape from the cornucopia, and I took a knife into my possession, both of which are useful.
Firstly, I begin to gather some of the many branches lying on the forest floor. I line them up against the log, until they appear to be long enough for either myself or Maylin to sleep under. I tape them together, about thirty, about three inches in diameter. I then use more wood on one end of the shelter, the end the person keeping watch will not be at. I chop the ends of every branch until they are even, or at least nearly. A quick covering of leaves and the shelter is complete.
I return to Maylin, who has cooked fish for us, and put out the fire. The fish is perfectly cooked and flakey. It fills mg stomach instantly.
Maylin and I smile to each other, I never imagined having an ally in the Hunger Games, never mind a friend.
Gabriel 'Gabe' Newman, 17 (written by Grand Coconut)
District 8 Male
After we escaped the bloodbath yesterday, Casker and I found a convenient nook in the autumn forest to rest in. We climbed into a tree to conceal ourselves from the other tributes and I collapsed onto some sturdy branches. My arm was bleeding out and I was too dizzy and weak to do anything but take a break for a while. I remember taking my shirt off and tying it around my upper arm as a tourniquet, hoping to stop the blood flow.
When I slept last night, I kept my arm free so it wouldn't brush against something that could possibly infect it.
It's really the last thing I need now. There's no doubt in my mind that I'm on the careers' hit list after what I pulled in the bloodbath yesterday, and it would be incredibly inconvenient if my arm started festering up and getting infected now. I definitely wouldn't be able to fight then.
What I need is a sponsor.
As I open my eyes, I realize that it is now morning. The sky is blue and cloudless, and I am surrounded by the colorful leaves of the trees around me. The breeze is gentle and birds chirp overhead.
I grunt as I sit up and my fingers immediately go to my arm. I look down and see that the blood has soaked through the white of the shirt. It looks old though, darker than fresh blood. Perhaps the bleeding stopped sometime in the night.
I carefully untie my makeshift tourniquet and examine my arm. A breath of relief escapes my lips as I see that the bleeding has ceased. The cut is still raw and open, but it's not soaked anymore. I want it to be all better by now, but at least this is a start. If I can avoiding hurting myself for the next few days or so, I'll be okay to fight soon.
I tie my shirt back around my arm and look ahead at Casker, who is dozing off in a branch opposite of me.
How can he sleep so soundly? I know that I tossed and turned all night long.
The backpack is wrapped in Casker's arms and our weapons rest on a bundle of branches next to my foot.
I glance at the blowgun and quarter staff as a cool breeze blows by. I risked my life and got slashed by a career just for a few weapons. They're just hunks of metal. They're just inanimate objects. I can't believe I was so eager to fly right into the heart of the cornucopia like that. That move did me more bad than good. It might hurt me in the long run too. I can still feel the weight of the remaining two smoke bombs in my pants pocket.
The bottom line is, though, there is no going back. I have the weapons, I have the injury, I probably have a warrant out for my death courtesy of the careers, and I have a long way to go before I go home.
I have to make due with the here and now. I have to work with I have,
Casker begins to stir across from me and opens his eyes slowly. He watches the branches above him blow in the breeze for a while before he looks my way. With a humorless laugh, he sits up and drops the backpack into his lap.
"I was hoping that this was just a dream." He says with a tired smile on his face.
I look at him absently for a moment before I look down. "What did you get?" I say, nudging my head in the direction of his backpack.
"Probably nothing you'd be happy with." He says disappointedly as he reaches to unzip it.
"You already looked?"
"Well yeah," he says as he opens it up. "I was hoping for some water, some food maybe. All we got is a roll of duct tape, a little knife, and a compass. Pretty useless stuff, except for the knife maybe."
I let out an irritated groan. "Wow." I mutter. "You'd think the gamemakers might have been a little more generous."
"Yeah," Casker laughs as he fiddles with the compass. "Unless you like eating duct tape."
I roll my eyes as I prop myself into a more comfortable position. "You do realize what this means right?" I ask flatly.
"We're gonna have to learn how to hunt?"
"No." I say. "It means we're gonna have to go back to the cornucopia."
Casker jerks his head up at my last word, almost hitting his head on a branch in the process. "Corno- what?! You almost got killed there! We can't go back!" He suddenly looks panicked.
"Well what else are we supposed to do?" I ask him. "Neither of us know how to hunt and if there just so happens to be a stream or a lake here, I don't wanna go. It has death trap written all over it. We need to eat, simple as that. It's the only way."
"Couldn't we just eat berries or something while we're here? Or... or..."
A ghost of a smile crosses my face. "You really want to live off of berries for the next two weeks?" I ask with a dry laugh.
Casker looks down. "Well... no." He admits. "I just wish there was a safer way."
I shrug. "It's go big or go home. You have to take chances. You have to be brave." I say. It's what I tell myself all the time. "Now we can go look for berries 'n shit today if you want, but tomorrow we're going to the cornucopia."
Casker keep his gaze low for a while before he finally looks back up. "Alright... Fine. But if we find enough berries today then you have to put off going to the cornucopia for a few more days." He says evenly as he climbs down from his branch, out of the tree.
I smirk as I grab my quarter staff and follow him down. "I doubt that's gonna happen, but okay." I say with a laugh.
