Eretria Ailen Lysford, 17, District 7
"Where are you going?" A female laughs.
"Just give up!" A man hollers.
"We're going to get you," a feminine voice says.
Their taunts only drive me to move faster, crashing through the branches and ferns, letting them rip at my clothes and skin. I can't afford to slow down now, not with a pack of six people hot on my tail. At least I think it is six. I only saw that girl from 1 and the boy from 4. There was more but could it have been six?
I continue to race through the woods and that's all it is, woods. I can't see any hills, rivers, steep terrain that I can lose my pursuers in. I can keep running but how long before I get exhausted? Will I lose them before then or will I slow down until they are on top of me? They are driven by the kill, I'm driven by survival, which one will win? I don't intend to find out.
I leap up, grabbing the trunk of a tree. With ease, I begin to scale it quickly. Back in District 7, we are expected to get the tall branches and climbing trees is almost second nature to all of us. Once I am a good distance up, I grip the bark, peering down and waiting for the pack to pass.
I see one figure pass by, then another, and another. I count them as they go. Four. The girl from nine joined the careers, it was obvious at training and then the female from 4 died. So six people form the pack, they must have left two of them at the cornucopia to make sure no one tried to steal some of the supplies.
I wait for a bit until I know they are far away and scale back down the tree. The work it took to hang from the spruce has caused my shoulder to burn, the wound reopening and dripping of fresh blood. I apply pressure to lessen the bleeding and walk in the opposite direction of the careers.
After about an hour of walking, the blood refuses to stop. I have to stop and rest against a tree. No doubt the cameras are on me now. Unless someone is in a fight or the careers are chasing someone else, everyone will be wanting to know how I am fairing, the girl who scored an eleven for throwing around some knives. I dig through my bag, pulling out the first aid kit.
I look back at the knife wound where Castia had stabbed me. The stitches I had managed to put in are ripped at the bottom, allowing for the blood and puss to seep out. Great. I press a disinfected around it, gritting my teeth at the pain that follows then lay gauze on top and tape it in place. No doubt Pinus, my mentor, is in the Capitol as we speak trying to rally sponsors for medicine to fix my wound. I'm not sure how many people will be up at this hour, what is it? Three or four in the morning? But there is always at least one person up somewhere watching the games. At least one person for Pinus to talk to.
With my wound dressed and Pinus hard at work getting my medicine, I get to my feet, continuing my walk south.
Callie Regan, 14, District 12
My eyes open before the sun has risen. Back at District 12, I am used to waking up early and prepare for the long day of doing what I could to survive. The arena is no different. Wake up, gather what I need, do what I need to stay alive, go back to sleep. Except it is easier in the arena. At least for now.
The cave I have discovered rests near the river. Near the running water are bushes of berries. I'm not sure how long I can survive on fruits and roots before my body begins to get too desperate for something more substantial but for now, it is bearable. I keep my eye out for any sort of game I could take down or small insects that I can prey on but none make an appearance. There is fish in the river but I have failed to catch any so far. Maybe that will be today's task.
I don't dare cross the river into the forest. Most of the tributes probably fled into the woods knowing it would provide more cover. I can only imagine the fights, chases, and attacks that are breaking out in there. So even if it tempted me with more abundance of food, I will refuse. The further into the games we get, the more tributes that die, the more people will realize how smart I am and how capable I am of surviving.
That's what they said back in District 12. "that girl, she is a survivor," they'd say. It was true cause I would do whatever I needed to in order to stay alive.
Day 2.
The sun has risen in the arena.
Temp – 28 C (82F)
Wind – 16 km/h
Humidity – 92%
Ajax Stanton, 17, District 3 / Shaun Amaranth, 15, District 9
When I awake, I feel my right foot is wet and warm. I glance down to see red, the blood has soaked into my pant leg and shoes. There is so much blood. Has it all come from Shaun well we slept? How has he not bled to death yet?
He looks dead already. His face is pale, lips almost white, his breath is so shallow that his chest barely moves at all. He won't last long. Maybe another hour or two if he is lucky. I can just slip out now, he won't wake up, I can leave him now and he won't be a bother to me anymore.
That is the logical thing to do. With him, by my side, it means every walk will be slow, every attempt to gather food just that much more difficult. I am almost convinced to leave him, having my supplies gathered and leaving our little den. But if a tribute is chasing us or a mutt, I could easily outrun him even in my state. If it was just me, whatever the attacker was would bear down on me in no time. But with Shaun, if I left him behind, it would buy me enough time to escape. Plus, it doesn't feel right to leave him for dead when he refused to do the same thing to me. Least if I saved his life, we would be even and I would not be bound by morals.
"You aren't dying just yet," I mumble as I slump back down on the ground. Weird how I have spent so many years reading up on health care and medicine to learn how to fix myself only to fail at that yet it has prepared me for situations like this. I examine the thigh. It has swollen tremendously. Blood and puss evacuate through the wound the knife has left behind. By examination, I can tell the knife hasn't pierced the femoral artery or vein which is good. If those were hit then there would be nothing I could do. No, this is more of a flesh wound, something that could heal on his own but for some reason, his blood refuses to clot. Hemophilia, I remember reading about it. A disorder in which causes the blood to lose its ability to clot.
I prepare for the surgery. I rough up Shaun's jacket with a rock till a thread strand pokes up and grab that, pulling off enough thread to seal the wound three times over. I'll only need to do it once but with how thin the material of the jacket is, I'll need to overlap at least three times to ensure it will not tear. Next, I go to the zipper and break off the upper stop since it is larger than the teeth and will be easier to use. With a rock, I work at the end until I am left with a sharp point.
So I will only need to seal the wound and he will be fine, as long as no arteries or veins were hit. I take a deep breath, grab the handle of the knife, and yank. For a moment, the knife only slides out slowly, being wedged between his swollen flesh but then, once the thicker part is removed, the remaining tip pulls out easily.
Blood instantly starts gushing out, so much I wonder if there is anything I can do in time. He has already lost so much, I roughly estimate 3 pints of blood soaking into the soft dirt below me. Any more and he will be dead. I get right to work. Using the sharpened zipper stop, I puncture small holes around the cut, pushing the thread through and repeating this over and over again, making my way along the gash as quickly as I can. Once I get to the end I pull on the thread, tightening the wound shut. Almost instantly, the blood ceases to pour out. I tie it off and cut the excess thread.
"There," I mumble, "you're still in the games."
Time is 10:41 am.
Most of the tributes are on the move. Lavish, Jacqueline, Homer, Columbia, Felicity, Ash, Eretria, Addy, Ryder, and Soya are wandering around the arena.
Victor and Wheta remain at the cornucopia.
Ajax and Shaun remain in their den.
Reilly is just waking up.
Archer has set up camp near a blueberry bush.
Callie remains by the river.
Soya Trail, 15, District 11
Oh, look another tree. As odd as it is, I expected the games to not be so boring. Sure, the start was full of fear and adrenaline but not it has been walking through the forest with no end in sight and still no signs of food or water. Already I can feel my mouth getting dry. Even the most sympathetic sponsor wouldn't pay for water right now. This early in the games plus I have nothing to show for my skills except my ability to walk...And talk.
"Doctor says, 'I'm sorry but you are suffering from a terminal illness. You only have 10 to live.' The patient asks, '10 what!? Weeks? Months!? Years!?' The doctor looks at his watch, 'Nine...'" I begin to tell jokes. If I can not provide entertainment in the form of me surviving easily or fighting then I can provide entertainment with the good 'ol fashion way, through words.
"Mother asks, 'Hello, son. What did you do at school today?' The son is jumping with joy, 'today we made explosives!' The mother is in shock, 'Ooh, they teach some fancy stuff in today's days. What will you do tomorrow at school?' 'What school?' The son asks."
I remember back in my district, whenever my friends were down I'd always be the one to cheer them back up again. Sure my jokes might be cruel at times but it usually got the ball rolling in the direction of joy. I can just see everyone I knew back in District 11 laughing as they remember some of the things I have done to pull them out of the trenches on their worst days.
"A wife is like a hand grenade. Take off the ring and say goodbye to your house," I say as I walk through the woods.
Ash Donner, 16, District 6
More leaves, more branches! I grab at what I can, trying my best not to be too loud as I continue to bury my body in anything that can help me blend in. I press myself against the trunk of the tree, the thorny bush that is in front of me scratches at my chest, face, and hands that clasp over my mouth to try and make myself as silent as possible.
"How's your chest?" A female voice says.
"Better," a more gruff voice replies, "sore though."
I can only watch as the two tributes step into view. The lovers from 10. If they both weren't carrying weapons and looking like they had just seen battle, I might reveal myself for an alliance. The female, I think her name was Addy, might be inclined to talk but I have seen the male in training. He is more of a kill now, ask questions later person. He'd likely send his knife into my chest in seconds. I keep quiet.
"She really did a number on me," the guy says.
The girl is silent but she stops walking. "Do you feel bad? About killing her?"
He has killed someone!? What have all the tributes turned into bloodthirsty monsters since the gong rang? So many people seemed so innocent and sweet in training and interviews and then now they are racking up kills without batting an eye.
"Why would I?" Ryder says, "she was going to hurt you."
"No, she wasn't."
"Why do you say that?"
"She paused," Addy says, "she wasn't going to attack me she wanted to flee but I just scared her."
"We don't know that."
"I do."
The two are quiet for what seems like hours. I can hear my heart beating, can they? No. They aren't looking around. They have no idea I am here.
"I'm sorry," Ryder says.
"I just hate what we have to do to get home," Addy tears up, "what you have to do and I am just -" Her emotions seem to overtake her and she begins crying. Ryder swoops in, pulling her into his embrace. He brushes her hair, telling her how it will be alright.
The two share a kiss, Addy composes herself enough to move on, and they walk.
I keep hidden long after they are gone, frozen with fear. The sun has begun to set when I determine they are far enough for me to emerge from hiding. I make my way out, sling the bag I got from the District 8 male over my shoulder, and walk in the opposite direction.
Columbia Bennett, 17, District 4
How could so many people enjoy killing? I tried to convince the others to let me stay at the cornucopia. Wheta was more eager to get out and hunt than I was but for some reason, Jacqueline insisted that I stick with them. Now, here I am trailing behind the pack as they laugh and joke about slaughtering other kids.
They were planning on how they would dice that girl from 7 alive before we even discovered her and furious when we lost her. For her sake, I hope we don't find her again. The others would make her death long and painful for making a fool out of them.
Now, we were back to hunting. I was more keeping my eye peeled for birds or wild game but Lavish and both from 2 were looking for tracks or any signs of tributes.
"We should go back," Lavish insists, "try a different direction."
"No," Jacqueline says, "we'll stay our course till nightfall. She had to come this way."
Homer was silent in all of this. He was more of a killer than I was but we had the same strategy. Remain quiet and go with what the others decided. I have seen power struggles with careers in previous games. Usually resulted in someone getting killed and then the whole thing crumbled. The careers were my best chance at winning this thing and I wasn't intending on letting it go.
"You hear that," Jacqueline says.
I perk up at the familiar sound...Water.
Now we are moving quicker. We are all running low on our water reserves so the chance to replenish what we have was a boost. I feel like that is why the other three are grinning well moving quickly but deep down I know it is because other tributes will seek refuge near water and that they will have a good chance at fighting someone.
Jacqueline seems to have a keen sense of hearing and leads us through the woods until we come out into an opening. The tree line stops to tall grass and flowers which encircle a small pond, the river that wraps near the cornucopia starts here.
"Fill up your water bottles," Jacqueline orders.
We are all heading for the water when something rustles. At first, I think it is a rabbit scurrying away but then it gets up onto two legs, rushing for the tree line. A tribute.
"Woo!" Homer hollers.
Jacqueline already has a knife in her hand, steadying herself, her eyes locking on the person as they run then throws the blade. It flies through the air. A scream emits letting us know it has found its mark.
"Let's go!" Lavish giggles.
The tribute staggers into the tree line, they are moving too slow, needing to support themselves too much on trees. Wherever Jacqueline got them, it has caused them to slow down tremendously.
We close in on the tribute in no time. As we narrow the gap, I see the red ribbon, the petite body, the male tribute from District 5. Antonion had mentioned he wasn't a he though...A she? I was confused by the situation but now it did not matter.
The District 5 tribute pushes themselves from a tree to go back to running but Homer slams into their back, knocking the tribute to the ground.
"Aaa!" The tribute hollers as they hit the ground.
I can see the knife Jacqueline threw, it is deep into the tributes upper knee. It sends a shiver up my spine with how accurate she is.
"Look what we caught," Lavish laughs, "the he-she."
"Another weakling just in the way of one of us winning," Jacqueline says almost dominantly as she circles him.
"Fuck you!" The District 5 tribute spits.
"Oh, he is a fighter," Lavish grins. She leans down, tickling his side but he takes a swing at her with his fist. She jumps back, dodging it. "I like the feisty guys."
"I'm not a guy!"
"Of course you are," Lavish rips the ribbon from his hair.
"Give it back!" The tribute hollers.
Lavish prances around him, taunting him with the red ribbon. She sings, "Who will get the kill, who will get the kill, who will get the kill?"
Jacqueline approaches me. I can feel my skin crawl as I predict what is about to happen. She is going to ask me to kill him. I haven't killed anyone yet and they will want to prove that I can. That is probably why they drug me on their hunting trip. But then she extends her arm, asking for my spear. I hesitate for a moment but then hand it to her.
She spins the spear in her hand but then stops it so the point hovers just above the District 5 tribute's head.
"Fuck you! You will burn in he -"
Jacqueline sends the spear down.
Boom!
"16 left," Lavish says.
"He's got nothing useful on him, let's keep moving," Jacqueline orders.
Lavish tosses the red ribbon to her side and follows Homer and Jacqueline as they walk away. I am reluctant to follow though. I glance down at the dead tribute for a few moments. Someone's child, friend, possibly brother or is it sister?
I walk, finding the red ribbon the tribute always seemed to wear on a ground near some moss. If it is left here, it will not be collected with the body, it will remain in the arena forever, out of reach of those who loved this boy. I pluck the ribbon from the ground, tying it onto their wrist.
"There," I mumble, "now they will have something to remember you by."
Keeping true to my word of a chapter every day...So far.
Another death, what did you think of it?
How long do you think the alliance of Shaun and Ajax will last?
Who do you think will be the next to die?
