Ranine Montero
Morning
Ranine and Soren had been walking basically non-stop. They had found a few meager streams, which had allowed them to replenish their water flask. They had both considered stopping and making a somewhat permanent residence, since it allowed easy access to water, but they hadn't been able to find a place that was concealed enough for their tastes, and both of them agreed that they shouldn't settle down in any specific location. The longer they stayed in one place, they reasoned, the more likely they were to be discovered by the others.
They didn't tarry from their direction much, since they wanted to be able to get back to the water if they needed to. As far as they could tell, they were going in a relatively straight line perpendicular to the mouth and tail of the cornucopia. They didn't have any way of knowing what direction the center of the Arena was, so they needed to do their best not to confuse themselves.
Their biggest concern right then, really, was food. Sure, not having any weapons was a problem, but a single package of crackers was hardly anything to share between two people. Already they were both weak and hungry. They were used to it, of course; most people who lived in the outer Districts were used to going without more often than not. But this wasn't a situation where they could really afford the effects of starvation. What little weight Ranine had gained during his stint in the Capitol was already evaporating fast, leaving the skinny young man that had left District Eight what seemed like lifetimes ago. Sooner or later, they would both be so weak that anyone could come along and pick them off.
He had been thinking about this off and on since the night before, when they had gotten down to their last few crackers.
"Any ideas as to where we'll be able to find food?" he asked, glancing over at his ally.
Soren looked around, as if a huge, glorious feast might spring out of the ground at any moment to save them. "I'm not sure," he said. "We've seen those little lizards, and things like that, but they seem pretty hard to catch. I haven't seen any plants, or any other small animals. No fish, at least not in the bodies of water we've found."
"So mushrooms might be our only source of food," Ranine said, verbalizing what they both must have been thinking.
"Good thing we spent so much time at the edible plants station, huh?" Soren said, a mirthless smile on his face.
"Yeah, we'll agonize over whether or not we're eating ourselves to death."
They walked in silence for a minute. "I mean... the Gamemakers are smart. Chances are, most of these mushrooms are safe. They probably weren't counting on all the Tributes spending a lot of time at the station — certainly not enough time to give them a good understanding of how to identify poisonous mushrooms."
"And I'm sure a lot of the others who did go to the station decided to ignore mushrooms, figuring they would just avoid them altogether, since they're so dangerous and plants and berries are easier."
Soren nodded. "So either there's a missing food source in this Arena that we haven't found, or most of the mushrooms are safe." He kicked a rock, sending it rattling in front of them before bouncing off a boulder. "I'm not saying we should just eat the first mushroom we find — but I think, chances are, we're more likely to get an edible mushroom than not."
"I don't know if I'm willing to bet my life on chance," Ranine said. "At least — any more than I already am."
"My thinking is, we're guaranteed to die of hunger, if one of the other Tributes don't get us first. At least with the mushrooms, if we can make an educated guess, we've got a chance."
"I guess you're right."
Like a sign from God, they came across the biggest patch of mushrooms they had seen. The patch was in an amorphous circle and was filled with brown mushrooms with shriveled tops. They looked like brown brains sitting on top of white tubes.
"Huh. Weird," Ranine said as they came to a stop in front of the patch. "You think these are edible?"
Soren crouched, examining them. "They sure look familiar."
"Lots of mushrooms look familiar. We saw probably fifty different species at that station, not to mention all the ones we've seen in here."
"I know, but I'm trying to remember what they were called."
Ranine stared at them, searching through his memories, looking for a name to put to the face.
"Morels!" Soren said suddenly, standing up. "They're morels. These are edible!"
Soren bent to pick one, but Ranine suddenly stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder. "Wait!"
He didn't know why he was so panicked — mushrooms wouldn't hurt them just by touching them. Soren jumped back anyway, as if the fungus might bite him.
"What, what?" he demanded.
"Those aren't morels," Ranine said. "They're false morels."
Soren, remembering the name, looked at the mushrooms closely. "Oh shit, you're right," he said. "I'm glad you realized that, otherwise we'd both be dead."
He nodded in agreement. "Super dead."
He sighed and stood back up, readjusting his sweatshirt. "Guess we better be moving on."
Ranine nodded, though he didn't want to leave the mushrooms behind. They needed all the resources they could get, and these things might be their only opportunity. He bent and grabbed a handful.
"What are you doing?" Soren asked. "Those are poisonous!"
"I know," he replied. "That's what I want them for."
After a moment, realization dawned on his face. "Oh," he said, nodding. "I see. Good idea."
He smiled emptily. "Right. Let's go."
Samuel Cookson
Morning
Sammy was looking through some of their supplies, trying to find pain pills. He was starting to get a headache, and he wanted to head it off before it got really bad. He found them and was reading the back of the label while he left out the mouth of the cornucopia. He bumped into Vernazza, though, by accident.
"Sorry," he said.
"Watch where the hell you're going," she snapped, looking up at him like she wanted nothing more than to shoot him through the throat with an arrow.
He felt the blood drain from his face and he put his hands up in surrender. "You're right, sorry," he said. Normally Sammy wasn't one to back up when someone was obviously looking for a fight, but he'd definitely get killed if he, the outer-District kid, tried to fight with one of the others — especially Vernazza, who seemed to be the most tightly-wound of the lot of them.
Really... there wasn't anyone he felt actually safe with in the Alliance. The best he got was tolerance, and whatever it was Peri had for him. It seemed like they wanted to be friends, but Sammy had seen supposedly sweet and earnest Careers be some of the most horrifying. He was a little wary of that energetic kid.
As he emerged back out into the clearing, Keiynan spoke up. "Alright, we're gonna head out. I think we're gonna spend two days away. Who wants to stay here for that time?"
Glancing around, Sammy raised his hand. He wasn't sure which was worse: having to go out and be a part of the pack, or staying here and being vulnerable. He supposed this way, he had the pact they had all made at the creation of this alliance to protect him.
Peri jumped up from where they were sitting. "I wanna stay," they said. Sammy wasn't sure, but he could have sworn they glanced at him. If they had, it didn't last long, because they turned their pleading gaze onto Keiynan. It seemed like the two of them were getting along, and Sammy couldn't help the little bit of jealousy.
Which he hated. Everything in him was telling him that he should hate these people, all of them, that they were killing other people, people who were in his situation, and their families in the District were going through the same exact pain that he had gone through when his brother had died. But he couldn't help it when he got impulsive thoughts about how cute Imperial was.
Everything that Keiynan had said to him the day the Training Scores came out came flooding back to him whenever he thought about that. "We all cope with this shit in different ways," his voice said. "Just because we're volunteers doesn't mean we're monsters."
Of course, if he didn't see them as monsters, he had to see them as people, and that was far more terrifying.
And if he saw them as people, then he couldn't ignore just how upset seeing Peri and Keiynan cuddled up like that had made him. He kept telling himself that he was angry because they were being stupid. Any kind of emotional attachments in the Games was stupid, and was only setting yourself up for heartbreak.
He had never seen Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mallark's Hunger Games, but they learned about them. He could never know how much of it was true and what was propaganda, but he knew that even her friendship with the little girl from District Eleven, which was apparently what started that rebellious fire, had ended in tragedy. And her romance with Peeta Mellark... how could anyone in their right mind want to recreate that? Maybe it would make the audience love them, but the President, the Gamemakers — they definitely wouldn't want a repeat of the last time.
He was brought out of his thoughts as the others gathered around Keiynan for plotting what they were going to do.
"I figure most of the day will be spent travelling, and then by the time the anthem comes on tonight, we'll be near enough some of the other Tributes that we can catch a trail. I want to be able to catch up with that other big alliance. They're really our biggest threat." He turned to Mica. "You good? Because you can stay here and Peri can come with us."
Mica had recovered pretty well from his stab wound from the girl from District Seven. It was still bandaged up, but thanks to the high-tech medicine available in the cornucopia, no complications had arisen.
Right then, his face was grim. "I'm fine," he said. "I want to get that bitch just as much as you do."
Keiynan looked doubtful, and honestly Sammy agreed. He doubted that he was healed enough to be of much use, and might end up worsening the injury, but there was no saying no to Mica.
"Okay. We leave in half an hour. Everyone get enough supplies for two days at most."
As the others left, Sammy retired to his usual place: sitting underneath the tail of the cornucopia with a ball of string in his hands. He occupied himself by trying to untangle it. He didn't know if it was possible, and sometimes it was more frustrating than relaxing, but he figured it was better than sitting there staring at the black ceiling.
He didn't know how long he sat there, but the sound of Peri's footsteps brought him out of whatever bored daze he had been in.
"Hey dude," they said. "You hungry? I was going to start cooking something."
He thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I could eat." He stood up and followed them back to the mouth, where a small woodless stove sat. Peri got out some apples, some jerky, and a few salamanders that had been caught over the past day or two. Despite the fact that they had ample supplies, they knew from past Games that all that could disappear in a moment, so they needed to be able to get their own food too.
Sammy sat near the stove, grateful for the warmth. While it wasn't particularly cold in the Arena, it was still colder than it was in District Nine, so he was having trouble being comfortable.
"What was Vernazza yelling at you about earlier?" they asked suddenly as they placed the skinned lizards on the stove.
Sammy looked up from his string ball. "Oh, I bumped into her."
Peri made a face, apparently confused by why she had blown up over something so small.
"I know," he agreed.
"That's weird," they said. "She's usually so level-headed. I mean, tightly wound, but level-headed, you know?"
Sammy shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm guessing she's mad because I was included in the group. I bet she wants to put a knife in my chest more than anyone else here. Which is really saying something."
Peri frowned. "What? What do you mean?"
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed. No one really wants me here. Except maybe you and Keiynan."
"Yeah, and?"
"And they all want me gone, but the only thing that's keeping them from killing me in my sleep is the fact that Keiynan would probably kill them right after... maybe."
"Oh, he'd definitely do that. Keiynan's a lot of things, but he's not dishonest. If he says no infighting, he's not going to let that pass. No matter who does it. And he likes you, so you're probably protected. At least for now."
Sammy looked over at them. Their eyes were trained on the lizards, carefully flipping them so they wouldn't burn. "You know, that makes me feel better."
They smiled. "Good, I'm glad."
Riva Lamelle
Afternoon
Her heart was pounding faster than her feet, and every breath she took was a labor. She had been a fighter for years, and part of learning to fight — and being as good as she was — was endurance and cardio training. She had been up at the crack of dawn more times than she could count running along the shoreline. Still, though, none of that could have prepared her for hunting with the Careers. Keiynan pushed them hard and long. They rarely stopped for breaks, and when they did, it was only for a few minutes at a time. She knew they had to move fast if they wanted to catch up to any of the others, but she couldn't help but envy Sammy and Peri back at camp.
Keiynan at the head of their pack held up a hand, and one by one they all slowed to a stop. "Let's take a meal break," he said, swinging his backpack from around his shoulders and sitting down. Riva took her own bag off and trotted a few feet away before collapsing.
Mica came over and — with much difficulty — took a seat beside her.
"You doing okay?" she asked, looking at his side but seeing no blood.
"I'm fine," he said, digging into his bag for something to eat.
She did the same, deciding that she wouldn't prod him any more about it.
Riva glanced around at the other Careers thoughtfully. She had never been particularly fond of hanging around them, but she knew they were her best shot to get out alive and give Destan the life he deserved.
The past year or so had been the hardest of their lives, which was really saying something, given how shitty everything had been up to that point. It was bad enough after Destan was born and their mother died in childbirth; that meant their father had to work twice as hard and they never got to see him. It also meant that Riva was largely robbed of her childhood in a desperate attempt to take care of her brother and support the family in any way possible. She didn't blame her father for that, of course, but sometimes she wished she could have had those years of blissful ignorance. But then the checks from their father stopped coming and she had to devote every minute of her time to trying to put food on the table, and it had made her sick to see Destan's cheeks get hollower and hollower. No matter how many fights she took, no matter how long she worked at the docks, no matter what Jorah did to help, no matter how much tesserae she took out, it was never enough and she couldn't stand it. Destan was growing up fast and he needed more than she could hope to provide. Of course, that was what landed her there in the Arena, that was what kept her going even as she was forced to accept the fact that she likely had to kill people at some point, and was also likely to die in her last ditch effort to make sure Destan would, for once in his life, have enough to eat, that they would have enough money for her to buy him a present on his birthday; if she got out of this victorious, they would have more than enough for the rest of her life.
She stared into the distance as she thought about Destan's sweet little face, inches from the TV as he cheered her on. She could practically hear Jorah in the background mumbling "Come on, Baracuda," as if that would keep someone from killing her if given the opportunity.
It didn't matter whether their little words in her little house actually did anything. That was her family, and thinking about them at all made everything else unimportant. So long as she got back to them, she would do whatever it took.
She looked at the Careers again. She thought about their dynamic, how well they all worked together. She had certainly seen more poorly put-together Career groups in her time. But this, like all Alliances, was bound to dissolve at one point or another. And no matter how much Keiynan insisted, she didn't see it being a calm, peaceful ordeal. Sooner or later, someone was going to snap and then everything would come crashing down.
She wondered if it would be better to make a break for it before that happened. She wondered if she asked Mica, if he would go with her. They were District Partners, after all. If she didn't win, at least if he did things would be easier for Destan.
She considered taking him, grabbing as many supplies as they could carry, and scurrying off into the night while everyone else was sleeping. They'd be able to do it, she was sure, and if they went fast and far enough, they wouldn't be able to track them.
It was a viable plan, and for a long time she considered it, and had almost decided that that was what she was going to do once they got back to the Cornucopia, but then decided against it. The Alliance was stable, and she needed to ride that for as long as possible. Once things got shaky she would bolt. But maybe she should bring it up to Mica before that happened.
Mica finally seemed to notice that she hadn't eaten and was just kind of staring off into the distance. "You okay?" he asked after a long moment.
She snapped out of it and looked up with him. "Huh? Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Just, you know. Thinking."
"I try not to do that too much," he replied.
She smiled. "I understand that."
They fell silent then, but Riva didn't want it to be quiet. She wanted to talk, wanted to have something that would keep them both out of their brains.
"So," she said. "What do you think?"
"About what?"
"You know. Everything. The Games, our allies, our lives currently."
He chuckled dryly and shrugged. "Dunno. It sucks, I guess."
"You volunteered for this, didn't you?"
"Yeah, of course, but that doesn't mean I really want to be here. You don't want to be here, right?"
She nodded. "I guess that's true. Maybe I need to re-examine some of my biases about you guys."
"'Us guys?'"
"The Careers."
"Aren't you a Career?"
She waved her hand. "Yeah but, you know what I mean."
"The ones who trained specifically for this?"
"Yeah."
"You know, there's a lot more to us than a lot of people think. Not all of us are here because we want to die for glory or whatever. A lot of us are in the same position as you, especially in Four. Some of us are poor, with starving families. Sometimes, the Academy is our only shot. And even if we die, that's one less mouth to feed, right?"
"That's kind of a cynical way to think about it. I don't think your family views it that way."
"Of course they don't. It's horrible, but it's true."
She sighed. "It shouldn't be that way," she said. She knew that was dangerous, and judging by the way Mica looked at her, he knew that too, and was surprised by her guts. "I just wish there was another way," she added, hoping that was enough of a cover-up. She had to be careful with her words here. The Gamemakers weren't likely to broadcast anything rebellious; censorship was really staunch, but if they heard, or the president heard — which they would — it would mean trouble for her, and possibly her allies and her family back home in Four too. She sighed and started eating, too upset now to want to make an effort into conversation.
Mirabel Holtz
Night
Mira's feet were bleeding, she was sure, but she was afraid of what she would find if she stopped long enough to take a look. She was constantly caught between her fear of what lay behind her, and a fear of what lay ahead. She figured that at worst, it was the edge of the Arena. She'd never really seen anything about the edges of the Arena. There had been complications one year about twenty years ago where a boy tried to kill himself with the electric shock and just ended up paralyzing himself and choking to death on his own tongue. Her dad had told her about it, and since then they hadn't really shown much when Tributes found the edges. Most of the time the Arenas were too big, anyway, and Tributes didn't really like wandering around until they found an invisible death wall.
She could only hope that she wasn't about to run right into said death wall.
She periodically tossed stones and mushrooms in front of her to make sure that the way ahead of her was clear. She didn't know how big the Arena was, after all, since their sizes varied a lot. It always depending on what kind of show the Gamemakers wanted to put on that year. One time, there had been an Arena that wasn't more than a mile across. It was a very close competition, with kids dying almost every night because no one could avoid each other. Other times, the Arenas were over ten miles across, and odd shapes; lots of the time the shape could change in order to herd Tributes towards the center.
She heard something in the silence, something that was almost too quiet to hear: a quiet little bumpf above her head. She looked up, and saw movement above her. She instantly backed away, fearing the worst.
After a moment, though, it came into focus: it was a parachute, with a large box attached to the bottom. A sponsor gift!
A big, idiotic grin broke across her face. She ran forward, holding her hands out to catch it. She wondered who it was from. surely not her family, they could never afford something like this. She must have caught someone's attention in the Capitol.
Whoever it was, she couldn't contain gratefulness as she caught the parachute.
"Thank you," she said, looking up into the darkness and hoping the cameras would broadcast her thanks to whoever had sent this to her.
She knelt down and opened the box, giving out a squeal. Inside was a canvas bag and a long blade in a sheath — it must be a machete.
She took out the bag and pulled the drawstring to open it. She pulled out a small loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and two apples. This was enough food to last her for a week, if she tried. She laughed with joy and immediately scarfed down one of the apples. She had barely eaten in these four days, and she couldn't really help herself.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you."
She put the food bag into her backpack and secured the machete sheath at her hip before standing up and resuming her walk.
Out in front of her, dimly illuminated by the surrounding mushrooms, she saw a great chasm opening in the floor. She went towards it and tossed a rock towards its edge. It bounced harmlessly into the darkness, and she didn't hear it hit the floor.
She looked to either side, searching for a way around, a place where the chasm ended. It stretched, seemingly endlessly, into the dark horizon. She wondered if this was the edge of the Arena.
Getting on all fours — she was afraid of accidentally tripping or something — she knelt at the edge, looking down into it.
Then, she looked around for a glowing mushroom that she could drop into the hole. She wanted to know just how deep it went. She had climbing gear in her backpack — maybe she could climb down there and use it as a base. She didn't know how many of the other Tributes had gotten climbing gear, so she figured she'd be safer there than anywhere else.
She grabbed a small handfull of moderately sized glowing mushrooms and one by one dropped them down into the darkness. They seemed to fall until they were out of sight.
She looked over at her backpack, considering climbing down anyway, though she didn't know what she would find. If there wasn't a bottom — or at least, the bottom was really far down — then there wasn't likely to be a ledge that she could hide on.
Her shoulders slumped. Mira would have been glad for a place to rest, a safe place to wait these Games out. She sighed and started to stand back up, but stopped as she heard something. She looked around, fear making her heart drop to her toes. She didn't see any movement around her, but that didn't necessarily mean she was safe. She looked down into the chasm, thinking that it was possible that the sound came from down there. And if it had... then she might have made a very, very bad mistake.
Deciding she didn't want to stick around to find out, she picked up her backpack and started jogging back the way she had come; she figured she would get a decent distance away, and then would follow the fissure from there to see if it ended or if it marked the edge of the Arena.
She kept hearing rustling noises; they were quiet, almost imperceptible. She couldn't tell exactly where they were coming from — this cavern was so echoey all the sounds just got bounced around and it was impossible to place their origins. She got the feeling that it was coming from the chasm, though.
She kept glancing out of the corner of her eye at that great black scar, waiting for something to emerge from it, or something to happen. It was making her nervous, but she hoped that if she stayed far enough away she wouldn't have to worry about it.
Then, she saw something. A flicker of movement that she barely caught. For a moment, she doubted whether or not she had seen it at stopped, looking over.
Then, slowly, a shiny head poked up over the cliff and swung around. A black, beady eye watched her and she felt her whole body go numb. She tried to move, tried to run, but she felt like she was paralyzed, frozen in the sights of this creature. It was huge; its head was bigger than her whole body.
It slowly climbed over the ridge of the crevice and approached her. Its body was long and orange, a thin tail flicking behind it.
Mira screamed in fear as it opened its mouth and long tongues of fire emerged. She turned and took off running. She heard in the pounding behind her — over the pounding of her own heart — that it was pursuing her quickly. She didn't dare look back though; if she was going to die, she didn't want to see it coming. She kept her eyes forward, searching for a way out, for somewhere to hide where the lizard wouldn't be able to follow.
She felt heat lick her heels and she screeched again. A fresh burst of adrenaline sent her into a frenzy and she drove forward even faster, desperate to save herself, to outrun this creature even though logically she knew she had no chance.
Then, she was one the ground. Something heavy was on her back. She started sobbing and struggling, struggling for her life. It was burning hot and there were sharp claws digging into her back.
She knew death was coming and all she could do was scream and cry, as if that would somehow convince the mutt to leave her alive. She just wanted to be home.
Patroclus Montague
Night
"Has anyone got an update on the Gamemakers?" Patroclus demanded as she burst into the production booth. "I've been looking all over for them and I'm supposed to be on in five minutes!"
"We've got one on the phone now, Ms. Montague," her set manager said, one hand on the receiver. "They'll be here in two minutes."
"Finally," she said, hugging. She turned back to the makeup artist who was hurriedly dabbing on a few more strokes of makeup. "Sometimes I swear those Gamemakers have no respect for anyone else's time," she mumbled.
When it came time, she mounted the stage to the roaring of the crowd. It was always invigorating, hearing how much they loved her.
"Good evening, Panem!" she exclaimed, her microphoned voice resounding over the streets but still being drowned out.
She was considering getting surgery to implant a microphone system in her vocal chords so she could project her voice naturally by herself, but she figured she would have to wait until after the Games, since it would be a while to recover from the surgery.
For the most part, the day had been quiet. She needed something to excite everyone after it.
"I have a special treat for you all tonight!" she said once the crowd had settled down somewhat. "We've managed to pull a few members of the Gamemaking team out of their busy work for an interview!"
The crowd went wild again and she drank it in. "But first, let's have a review of today's games!"
She took her usual seat and watched as the cameras followed the Tributes. Of course, there was the near-altercation in the Career pack, but that was quickly smoothed over. The other Tributes were much the same as they had been the day before; everyone was searching for water. A few lucky ones had found the underground streams that were sprinkled around the Arena. A few others had found areas that were more teaming with life and so were eating well. Others had managed to find well-secured places they could hide out for the duration of the Games. And then, of course, there had been the death.
The crowd let out lamenting, sympathetic sighs as they watched the muttation burn poor Mirabel to death.
"What a way to go," Patroclus said sadly as the screen shifted to show the standings. It changed Mira's status to DEAD.
"Now," she said, standing up and clasping her hands together as the screen darkened. "I'm so excited to introduce Laurentia Moonglove and Reynaldo Verelo-Rosales!"
The crowd screamed as the two Gamemakers mounted the stage and bowed. Both looked exhausted, and were covered with makeup to hide the dark bags under their eyes. She knew they were overworked, as the Gamemakers usually were. She was too, honestly; the Games were an exciting and busy time for everyone involved, and since this was a Quell, there was a lot more pressure and gravitas surrounding it than usual.
She waved them over to sit at the loveseat that had been brought on, and returned to her own chair. She crossed her legs.
"Good evening," she said with a wide smile.
The two nodded in greeting.
"First, I'd like to open with just how impressed I am with the Games this year. This Arena is so interesting. It presents a large variety of challenges, both behind-the-scenes and for the competitors. Who came up with the idea?"
"It was Aeneus," Laurentia said quietly with a small, mournful smile.
Sounds of sympathy erupted in the crowd.
Patroclus nodded and patted her hand. "They were a creative genius, the likes of which I don't know if we'll ever see again."
"We certainly miss them."
She hadn't intended for the tone to get so drab so quickly, but it was difficult to avoid, with Aeneus' murder still so fresh. She had been specifically directed to keep the public's thoughts away from the investigation.
Luckily, she was an expert at dodging around subjects.
"Tell me about those mutts we saw earlier attack Mirabel Holtz. What exactly are they?"
Reynaldo sat up straight. He was the head of mutt design, so this had been his project. "The base creature we took from was a salamander. We don't get many of them here, but they're called the red eft. Of course, they don't get that large naturally."
"And I would imagine they don't breathe fire!"
The audience laughed and she got a polite chuckle out of the two Gamemakers.
"No, certainly not. The fire-breath was inspired by ancient fantasy myths from our ancestors. They believed in large lizards which could spout fire from their mouths and fly. They called them dragons."
"Oh, how fascinating! I always love it when the Gamemakers take inspiration from ancient history!"
"As for their placement, well... without giving too much away, their purpose is to herd the Tributes away from the edges of the Arena. We figured it would be more effective and entertaining than the standard electrified forcefield."
"Oh I'm certain." Patroclus waved her hand. "Could we get an Arena map, please?"
Behind them on the screen, a map appeared, along with several colored dots showing the Tributes' positions.
"Who can we see who's close to the boundaries?" A few dots shifted to show Tribute profiles. "Denver of District Nine seems rather close, though he's still in the clear, it seems. It appears that most of the other Tributes are remaining withing a central space. I would imagine they don't want to get too far away from the Cornucopia, in case there's a reason to go back there."
"Many of them have found shelter or other supplies that they're reluctant to leave behind as well," Laurentia pointed out. "We wanted to make this Arena large enough to give the Tributes space to spread out, since we didn't know how many alliances there would be nor how large those groups would be, while still making the Cornucopia reachable."
Patroclus nodded. "Wonderfully clever. Can we hope to see some interesting mechanics being implemented as we get further into the Games?"
"Oh absolutely. We have a few tricks hidden up our sleeves in case the Tributes themselves are having trouble."
"I just have one more question for the two of you," she said. She leaned in secretively, as if their responses wouldn't be broadcast to the whole country. "Who do you think will win?"
The Gamemakes both laughed.
"Well," Laurentia said, "I'm rooting for Baia Kell, as I was in her first Games. I think she has a real chance."
"And you, Reynaldo?"
He smiled, fluorescent teeth showing behind black-painted lips. "I try to keep my predictions to myself," he said.
With that, she stood and waved her hand. "I wouldn't want to keep the two of you from your work any longer. Thank you both so much for taking time out of your busy schedules to indulge us all. I wish you both the best of luck, and send my love to the other Gamemakers."
"We certainly will," Laurentia said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
The crowd roared as the two left the stage.
"Tune in tomorrow for more updates and commentary. Until then, Panem, good night!" She threw her hand up, bowed, and then left off the stage.
A/N: yeehaw I'm very late i know. It's been tough since my current hyperfixation is uhh envelopping my whole life. Woohoo. I'm planning to do campnano in July though so hopefully I'll be able to get back in the groove.
Also I want to apologize for killing Mira just after giving her supplies lol. I have the Games pre-organized though so there wasn't much I could do about it.
Anyway, let me know what you thought! Thank you so much for sticking with me!