"Heart, don't fail me now. Courage, don't desert me."
-Lynn Ahrens, "Anastasia"
Christopher Price (17) POV
District 2 male
As the sun comes up on the fourth day in the arena, I can feel myself getting restless and frustrated. There have only been two deaths since the initial bloodbath, and one of them wasn't even one of us. We've talked a lot about who we think it might be, and we're honestly at a loss. Outside of the six of us, the highest training scores left were the District 5 girl and the boys from 6 and 10, and none of them seemed especially vicious.
It's not that I'm eager to kill. I'm not some bloodthirsty monster that a lot of the people from the outer Districts think that District 2 produces. I don't actually think any of us are particularly bloodthirsty, in all honesty. I think at worst, we're just competitive, and we all have something to prove, or something to gain. Julius needs to prove that gay men aren't just some stereotype. Alecto needs to prove that people with disabilities can not only be normal, but can excel. Even Penny, who talks constantly about wanting to see blood, needs to prove herself worthy to everyone back home that doubted her.
As for me, I just want to lay the foundation for a good life. Marriage, and maybe even kids someday, would be way easier if I could just leave this arena with money and a big house. Part of me has been thinking that there was definitely an easier way to do this, but there's absolutely no turning back now. I need to finish what I started.
I've been taking the last watch at night ever since the Games have started, and I'm growing to like mornings. Everything is so peaceful in the morning when everyone else is sleeping. It makes me regret staying up until all hours of the night at home and sleeping past noon. It's also been really easy to keep track of time and whose turn it is to take watch, since there's a large operational grandfather clock in the living room of the dollhouse. We go to bed at 11:00, and Alecto takes watch until 12:30, then Terry from 12:30 until 2:00, Dustin from 2:00 to 3:30, Julius from 3:30 to 5:00, Penny from 5:00 to 6:30, and finally, myself from 6:30 to 8:00. That means it's my responsibility to wake the others up each morning, but I don't mind.
"We really need a kill today," I say, as everyone stretches, yawns, and rubs the sleep from their eyes. Another reason I like being up early is because it gives me time to form a plan. "It's been two and a half days since Alecto killed the girl from 6, and that was the last time any of us got anyone. What does that say about us?"
"I completely agree," Penny says, raising her chin and smirking. "So if it's all the same to you, I'd like to-"
"Nope." Julius cuts her off. "You've gone the last two days in a row. "Topher, Dustin, and I will go. You can pick a crew and go tomorrow."
"Fine," she says, pouting. "But don't be surprised when you don't find anyone without me."
"We'll keep that in mind," Dustin says.
We all eat a substantial breakfast of granola bars, dried fruit, and water, still not making a dent in our food supply, before the guys and I grab our weapons and set out away from our camp, leaving the girls behind. The wind rustles in the willow trees surrounding our camp, and I smile. I have a good feeling about today.
Conn Rainier (18) POV
District 8 male
I haven't had water since the first night when the Careers left their camp unguarded and I was able to get some. Ever since then, they've been diligent about keeping at least two people on guard at a time. Why do they have to be so smart this year? All I need is five minutes where they all have their backs turned so that I can fill up my pot again.
The past few days without water have been excruciating, especially because I've been looking at the lake this whole time. It's taunting me. Maybe the dehydration wouldn't be so bad if I didn't think it would be so easy to get water. It should be as easy as walking over to the lake, filling up my pot, and purifying it, but because these kids from the upper Districts feel entitled to the water, it all belongs to them. And it's not even like they need it all! They're hoarding it just so other people can't have any.
I hear some chatter, and then peek through the branches of the willow tree in time to see all three of the boys leaving with their weapons, I guess to go hunting for tributes. That leaves the tiny girl from District 2, the pretty one from 10, and the admittedly really scary one from District 4. None of them are talking to each other.
In a moment of clarity, I realize that I need to risk it. If I run out there and get attacked by the Careers, I could die. But if I don't get water soon, I will die. I need to take my chances. I take a deep breath, put my backpack on, strap my shield to my arm, tuck my sword into my belt, and hold my pot. I take a couple of shaky steps around my tree, protected by the coverage of the leaves. Dizziness is already playing a huge factor.
It's now or never.
I take a step out of my tree, trying my best to feel brave, and with the Careers' backs turned, I begin my walk to the lake. My first couple of yards go off without a hitch. Then, all hell breaks loose.
"Get him!" a female voice says. My blood runs cold. They've seen me.
I continue towards the lake, going as fast as I can while covering my head and chest with my shield. I can't turn back now. I need water. Before I know it, an arrow has pierced my calf. I shout in pain and drop my shield without thinking, assessing the damage. Then, a throwing knife hits my ribcage. I drop to the floor, clutching my side and struggling with deep breaths. This is easily the most pain I've ever been in. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying for the pain to be over soon.
"Any last words?"
I open my eyes to see the redheaded girl from District 4 standing above me, a smirk on her face and a spear in her hands. I open my mouth and try to croak out something meaningful, but words don't come. There's so much I could say. An apology to Marsellus for letting him die. A last "I love you" to my family back home. Maybe a quote from one of my books.
But I guess I took too long, because before I can think of anything to say, the girl from District 4 has plunged her spear into my chest.
Clio Paxton (17) POV
District 5 female
Being in this arena, especially by myself, has me conflicted as hell. Ever since watching Alayne get killed, I haven't done anything that a Capitol citizen would find even remotely interesting. I've washed my stockings, speared fish, eaten bread and cheese, hid in trees, and finger combed my hair. Half of me wants to head back towards the Cornucopia in the hopes of finding another tribute along the way. I have no desire to kill anyone, but I think creating my own drama would probably be better for me than dealing with whatever Gamemaker drama would get chosen for me.
At least if I find a tribute myself, I'll know what to expect. The Careers would gut me, no questions asked. The boy from 10 and the girl from 12 are teamed up, and I think I could probably take each of them individually, but not if they were working together against me. I could easily take out the boy from 7 if it came down to it- honestly, I'm not even sure how he's still alive, unless he was the cannon from earlier. I'm fairly certain that the boys from 6 and 8 would also be able to kill me without a problem, especially the boy from 6 who promised Magnus that his face would be the last thing any tribute who crossed him would ever see. Spooky.
I don't have time to ponder how to make myself more interesting for long, though, because a loud screech sends chills down my back and nearly makes me fall out of my tree. I close my eyes and hope and pray that whatever it is doesn't see me. But my hopes and prayers don't work, because the giant brown bird with the white head makes its way towards me. I scramble out of my tree before this bird can push me out and hurt me.
As soon as I get onto the ground, I start to run away from the bird. However, it's immediately clear that this isn't a normal bird that's just going to let me run away from it. This bird was genetically engineered to fight. So I take a deep breath, pull my knife from my belt, and turn to face it. The bird stops flying towards me for just a moment, and we make eye contact before it screeches again and starts to fly towards me.
It's clear immediately that this is not going to be an easy fight. The bird is easily as long as I am, and its wingspan is at least ten feet. Its beak is ginormous, and the fleeting feeling of this animal biting my head off crosses my mind before I shake it away. This thing is ginormous. How am I supposed to fight it with just a knife?
All of a sudden, the bird flies up high in the sky before flying down at an incredible speed and deeply scratching my left arm just below the shoulder, causing excruciating pain, and thick blood begins to drip down my arm. The wound is deep and hurts a lot, but luckily I don't think the animal is venomous.
Filled with adrenaline, I grit my teeth and run at the bird with my knife and slash it across its chest. It screams in pain, and I run as far away from it as I can get before it makes its next move, but it's not far enough. Within seconds, the bird is coming at me again, but this time I'm able to side step and stab it near its left wing. My knife lands deep, but I'm not naive enough to believe that it does any real damage to it.
It screams again, and this time when it charges me, I'm too slow to avoid it, and it takes a bite out of my right ear. This time I scream in pain. I raise my hand to my ear and horrifyingly find the lobe completely gone, and my ear dripping in blood. I put my head down and charge it again, but before I can get close enough to touch it, it flies above me.
It takes a moment, seeming to be waiting for me to make the next move, and I have to reassess. This creature can fly higher than I can climb, and faster than I can run, so outrunning it isn't an option. I have to fight it, but that clearly isn't working either. No matter where I hit it or how hard, it doesn't seem to make a difference. So if I can't fight but I can't run away either, what kind of options do I have? Was this bird made specifically to kill me?
No. No, if the bird was supposed to kill me, it would have done it by now. There has to be a way to kill this thing. But how do you kill something that can't be outrun or outfought?
It's still waiting for me to take my turn, so I take out my container of water and try to quickly clean the cut on my shoulder. Out of nowhere, the bird starts to scream again, and aggressively flaps its wings. This scream seemed different, though. If the previous ones had been angry, this one seems almost afraid. What is it afraid of?
I take a cautious step towards the bird and it screams again, taking a step back. The only thing that's changed is that I tried cleaning my arm. Is it something about the lack of blood? I glance down to my hand at the container of water I'm holding. Water. As a test, I put the water back into my bag, and the bird immediately starts screaming in anger again and trying to advance.
Without thinking about it any more, I break into a sprint to the stream a couple hundred yards away. I wade in without bothering to take off my shoes or stockings, and the bird lets out a defeated sound before taking off and flying away. I'm safe. I'm wounded, but I'm safe.
For now.
Edison Burt (12) POV
District 7 male
My experience in the arena has been infinitely better now that I've had access to drinking water. For the whole of the fourth day, Brian and I have been left completely alone, both by the Gamemakers and the other tributes. Our theory is that it's because we got our struggle out of the way early. We almost died of dehydration for three days straight, so from a strategic standpoint, it makes sense for the Gamemakers to keep us relatively happy for a little while.
Additionally, we still have plenty of crackers and beef jerky left, because we were hesitant to eat such dry and salty foods while we didn't have access to water, so around mid-afternoon, we get comfortable in a patch of grass and dandelions and eat. Salted crackers and beef jerky isn't really the most delicious meal, especially compared to the food we'd been given by the Capitol the week before, but at the end of the day, it has carbohydrates, protein, fat, and salt, so it keeps us satisfied for a while. To top it off, I teach Brian that all parts of a dandelion are edible without even cooking it, so when we want to stop eating our prepackaged food, we eat the yellow flowers until we're full.
Overall, our day is pretty uneventful. All we really do is sit in the grass, eat, and keep our water bottle full and clean. Uneventful, that is, until a small silver package printed with the number 6 comes floating down from the sky. Brian got a sponsor gift? What did he do to deserve a gift? And why did he get one and not me? We've had the exact same experience so far. If anything, I've been doing better than him. I'm the one that taught him how to find water, and how dandelions are edible, and how dried fruit can actually be a little bit hydrating. He opens the package to reveal a five pound container of salt.
"Salt?" he asks, echoing my thoughts. "What do we need this much salt for?"
"Maybe it's a joke?" I suggest. "We went so long without drinkable water, and salt can definitely dehydrate someone."
"Maybe," he says, scrunching his eyebrows. "But gifts in the arena have got to cost a lot of money. Who would spend this much money on a joke?"
"I don't know what Capitol citizens do with their money," I say, shrugging. "We all know they have more of it than they know what to do with."
"I guess," he says, turning the salt over in his hands. "Maybe you were onto something when you mentioned dehydration. Maybe they want us to poison the creek so the others won't have anything to drink. But then we wouldn't have water either."
"And I don't think this amount of salt would be effective in making an entire body of water undrinkable," I add.
We discuss what the salt could possibly be for until the sun goes down, but we don't make any progress. But it's clear that we were given this gift for a reason, and we need to figure out why sooner rather than later.
Tessa Ray (15) POV
District 12 female
Rowan and I have spent most of our day trying not to aggravate our injuries from the piranha situation yesterday. Not only did their teeth cause some pretty deep and painful cuts on our bodies, but we're pretty sure that unlike regular piranhas, these ones were venomous, as they've inflicted a dull ache that haven't gone away. Every small movement we make sends shooting pains through our bodies. I've also definitely got the worse of the two of us, because the fish pulled me down into the water. While Rowan's injuries are mostly below the knee, the fish got me all over my arms, legs, chest, and neck, so I've been limited to mostly laying down on the ground. I know of some plants that might help to draw the venom out, but I don't know if they have them here, or even if I have the strength to get up and look for them.
Our other big issue right now is our dwindling food supply. When we decided to go fishing yesterday, we were down to two apples and two peanut butter granola bars, but those are gone now. Ordinarily, an apple, a granola bar, and plenty of water would be enough for me for a day. It would be a hungry day, but it would be doable. But being in pain takes a lot of energy out of a person, and we simply need more calories than we're eating. Rowan has volunteered to go out and find another berry bush, but I haven't let him for several reasons. Firstly, he's also in pain, just slightly less than me. Secondly, I'm afraid he'd get the plant wrong and eat some before I can tell him so. And thirdly… I don't want him to leave me alone.
I haven't been able to stop thinking about how he raced back into the water yesterday to save me. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't care about me at least a little. I still get the feeling that he matters more to me than I do to him, but it would have been so easy for him to just let me die. But he didn't. He saved my life, and whether it was for the sponsors, or so he wouldn't be seen as a bad person if he won, or if he cared about me, it doesn't really matter. If he hadn't pulled me out of the water, the fish would have made me drown.
"You're pale," Rowan says, snapping me out of my thoughts.
We cut out some of the inner layers of my skirt with a knife yesterday, and we've been dipping them into the water to hold against our cuts. It helped initially, but my condition has definitely gotten worse. I'm feeling feverish. Even with both of our bags combined, we still weren't able to come up with a first aid kit, and I cannot describe what I would do for some antibiotic cream and fever reducers.
"We really need to get some food into you," he says, his face showing concern. "I'm just going to go and collect some berries. I won't go far, and I won't eat anything before I show it to you first."
"No," I say, feeling my voice turn quickly to a whine. "Please don't leave me alone. I'm out in the open. If someone finds me while you're gone, they'd kill me just like that."
"But you need to eat," he says, sitting across from me and taking my hands. "The odds that another tribute will find you while I'm gone are slim to none. But if you don't eat something soon…"
His voice trails off, and I can tell he's afraid to finish his sentence. He's right. If I don't increase my energy soon, I'm dead. And the longer we put it off, the weaker I'm going to be. I'm just so afraid to be alone here. But the sun is starting to set, and being alone in the dark would be even scarier to me.
Before we're able to argue our own points any more, I hear a faint beeping sound and look up to the sky. To my absolute delight, I see a box about the size of one that would hold a pair of boots coming down towards us, wrapped in a silvery paper with a silk parachute. Rowan's eyes go wide before it reaches the ground, and I'm sure I look pretty much the same. We have sponsors after all!
"What do you think it is?" he asks, grabbing it before it can land in the stream. The box has a 10 and a 12 printed on it, so it's for both of us.
"I hope it's medicine," I say, trying my best to prop myself up on my elbows. "It looks a little big though."
"Let's open it together," he suggests.
At the same time, we each grab the paper off of one end of the box and tear it open. Once we open the box completely, my eyes nearly pop out of my head. Inside the box sits a roasted chicken, a small bowl of mashed potatoes, two cobs of corn, and a glass bottle of lemon soda with cloth napkins. All of the food is still steaming hot, and the soda bottle is sweaty. Rowan immediately cups my face and kisses me, and when he pulls away, he's grinning from ear to ear.
"Let's eat!" he says.
We don't have plates or silverware, but we immediately dig into the food using our hands. We let ourselves eat the whole thing, figuring it'll build up our strength enough to get up and look for food tomorrow. The anthem plays, and we see the face of the boy from District 8 in the sky. His death was the first one since the girl from District 1 on the first day that actually surprised me. If I remember correctly, he got a 7 in training, same as Rowan.
As night falls on our fourth day and Rowan and I are alive with full stomachs, I get a renewed sense of hope. Who's going to count us out just because some Gamemaker creation cut us up?
Maybe that just means we'll have to be more exciting tomorrow.
12th: Conn Rainier, District 8 male, killed by Penny's spear.
Sorry this took a while, but two weeks is better than two years, amirite ladies? I've just been working a lot, but I limited my availability so I'd have more time.
1. What did you think of the mutt?
2. What do you think the salt is for?
3. Who do you think is going to die next?