Sorry for the long delay between updates! I didn't have my computer with me over Thanksgiving break. But here's a new chapter finally. Oh, and can anyone see the reference to the Odyssey in the first sentence?
Morning dawns with a rosy light, and I realize that for the first time since I entered the arena, I hadn't had my reoccurring nightmare this night. I'm very relieved, because I actually got a good night's sleep for once. I ration myself to half a strip of meat for breakfast, and start planning what to do next.
I have absolutely no idea where any of the tributes are; the arena is so huge. So I start to think: Where would a tribute head? Where did I go when I first entered the arena? Water—that was my first priority, and it's probably most tributes'. If I'm to go searching for other tributes, I should definitely try to find a water source where it's likely to run into them. But where do I find water? The stream and waterfall are way too far behind me to even consider going back, but there has to be some other pond or lake or something—the arena can't be all snow-covered trees.
I finally make my mind up to go downhill and search for a valley or something where water would most likely be. I consider traveling by means of the trees, like the girl from District 8 had done, but I think again and decide just to walk through the snow. I'll leave an easily traceable path with my footprints, but isn't meeting other tributes what I want? I'm well fed, warm, and armed—I'd win in a fight.
For hours, I walk downhill, but the scenery doesn't change. The arena around here is just miles and miles of evergreen trees, with some deciduous species interspersed. I nibble on a roll to pass the time; anyway, I can fish with the new roll of line when I find water.
I had hardly noticed it, but the ground must have been getting flatter and flatter as I was walking, because now there is not much incline at all. And then, to my delight, I see the sparkling of sunlight on water straight ahead of me. A creek, much wider than my original stream, lazily flows across the valley I've come into. The land is very flat here, which accounts for the slow speed of the water, except for one large hill off to my right about twenty meters away.
Then something to my left catches my eye. A dark lump is moving near the bank of the creek. I squint against the brightness of the snow—is that another tribute? The lump grows bigger; it's moving my way. Then it turns its head to the side, so I can see its profile. Short, stubby ears, a long snout—the lump is not a tribute, let alone a human; it's a bear!
My breath catches in my throat, and the bear focuses its eyes on me. It keeps plodding loser and closer to me. I'm scared stiff; the bear can obviously outrun me, out-climb me, out-swim me, and kill me before I can get a knife anywhere near its neck. There's nothing I can do but do what I did when I was seven—freeze. My gray eyes just keep staring into the black eyes of the bear.
Even in my fright, I have to suppress a laugh. Obviously, the gamemakers had chosen this bear to confront me because of my story at my interview before the Games. I had explained why I'm called "little black bear," and they must have remembered it and come up with this torture. If I had only said I was called "little butterfly," or something else of the likes! Although—I may have been attacked by stinging butterflies if I said that.
The bear stops about two meters in front of me. Way to close for my comfort. It's standing between the water and me, and I have to pass it in some way to get to the creek. But the only thing I can do now is wait. Which I've done before, though. Just like when I was seven, I can wait the bear out and hope it moves away first. I plant my feet firmly so not to loose my balance, and focus on not moving a muscle.
We stand there, the bear and I, for hours on end, just looking at each other. I know I can do this; I've done it before. I try to ignore the grumbling of my stomach and the freezing of my ungloved hands, because any movement might trigger an attack. The bear might think I'm threatening it. The sun is sinking quickly, and it turns the sky beautiful fiery colors. Then suddenly, with the disappearance of the last ray of light, the bear breaks eye contact, and turns around. As it lumbers away from me, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I still stand frozen in my place, partly to let the bear get some distance, and partly because I'm completely numb and can't actually move at all. The bear crosses the creek, which doesn't look too deep, climbs the hill, and disappears into a cave near the top. I guess that's where it lives. This spot of the river is too perfect to let up just because of a bear, so I pick a large oak tree far enough away from the bear's hill that I feel safe, and I make camp there.
I wonder how my family at home though of this incident with a bear. If I ever come back to see them again, I know I'll be teased about it for ages!
