Harry Striffer, 16, D8M:
"Ladies and gentlemen, here we have it, the Four Hundredth Annual Hunger Games!" My plate rises out of the ground, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust because everything is just so white. It takes me about half a second to realize why there are several layers to my outfit. I was sweltering a few minutes ago, but now I'm at a pleasant temperature, maybe even a little cool. There's a circle of dirt, the damp, muddy ground littered with dry leaves and a carpet of pine needles. Beyond it, though, the whole landscape is an untouched swath of snow with tall peaks jutting out on all sides.
The radius of the dirt circle extends fifty yards outwards, so about ten yards behind me, the soil ends and the huge drifts of fluffy flakes begin. A disembodied voice walks us through the countdown. That'll be Iris Whottenberg, the announcer. "Fifty-six, fifty-five, fifty-four…" I still have plenty of time left before I have to go. The most surprising thing of all is the Cornucopia. It should be an easy forty-yard dash in front of us, but it's sitting on an elevated pedestal instead. If I wanted to obtain some supplies, I'd have to contend with numerous obstacles as I ascend twenty feet, then fight with the Careers, and safely make my descent. Which is absolutely not going to happen. Quinten and I need to stick together, but the primary issue I'm facing is rather what I'm not facing. Quinten's nowhere in view. My field of vision extends far outwards. I have a clear picture of the entire landscape except for whatever lies behind the squat pillar upon which the Cornucopia is resting.
That means that Quinten must be exactly opposite me in the circle, and I'll also be hidden from him. Theoretically, we could meet in the middle if we went for the supplies, but why would we do that? We'd die for sure. I don't know who Quinten will have to avoid, but I'm sandwiched between two of the strongest, highest-scoring tributes. Jenna from District Seven is in a running stance on my right, and Livi, the Career who scored a perfect Twelve, is standing proudly on my left, face twisted in a half-grin. Her eyes track the movements of the other tributes, but her face is lifted upwards towards the mouth of the Cornucopia, chin pointing towards a series of metal hoops that we're meant to swing across. I definitely don't want to get in her way if she means to go towards them. "Forty-one, forty, thirty-nine…" Iris drones on, and I try to develop a strategy.
I have to find a way to meet up with Quinten. I could run around the side, but what if he decides to run around the opposite side? There's no way to know what he's thinking, so my general strategy is looking up at the streaky gray clouds and praying for a miracle. After a brief moment of panic, my mind clears, and the beginnings of a plan form. The arena looks fairly uniform as far as the eye can see, but my eyes can't see far at all. The cliffs are in the way. The ones behind me, I notice, are spiky alps, but the mountains across the circle seem flatter, with a gentler incline. I angle my body towards those. I'm an excellent runner, and I'll hopefully be able to catch up to Quinten, where we can go the less steep route.
My path will, unfortunately, take me right through the danger zone. Despite its prior appearance, it's now evident that the Cornucopia's packs and crates are actually scattered across several different levels that form a sort of staircase. The obstacle closest to me is a tightrope. If I use it to travel over the water–wait a minute, water? Looking at the course I would have to take, I notice a shimmer of wetness so dark it almost blends in with the deep brown terrain. The water is black in color, a small pond miraculously still not frozen, with the fat post supporting the Cornucopia pedestal resting in the center.
It has to contain some kind of mutt or other danger, and that gives me another reason to steer clear of the center. "Ten, nine eight…" The countdown is nearing its end, and the wind picks up. I can feel my hair tickle my forehead. "Six, five…" I make sure I'm ready to go, prepared to dash across the open stretch of dirt. "Three, two, one!" The noise of a gong reverberates in my ears and I spring onto the soft ground. I can feel the rush of air as Livi rockets away, crossing behind me and veering towards the Cornucopia. In the time it takes for me to run all the way across the clearing, four or five tributes have already traversed the obstacles and reached the top of the pedestal. I pause for a breath or two, turning wildly in every direction, searching for Quinten. He's nowhere to be found, but unless I want to die trying to find him, I just need to get as far away from here as possible. I'm at the edge of the earthen circle, boots tearing across the snowbank when I feel a sudden pain in my back. I try to outrun whatever it is, but when I'm forced to slide down onto my hands and knees, the shock of cold shooting through me upon contact, it's not an assailant I find but the rhombus-shaped blade of a shuriken.
I've picked up enough about human anatomy to know that, considering where I've been hit, I don't have much time left. The pain is distracting, throbbing particularly badly whenever I dare to move, and my brain decides to use the time to remind me of my romantic misadventures. All the failed dates, all the times I accidentally hit on straight guys, all the memories of crying over some boy or another. Grandmother. My thoughts are getting more scattered, and it's hard to guide them back into proper working order. Not enough blood is getting to my head, instead, it's all pooling out onto my clothes, soaking into the snow, coating my fingers in red stickiness that reminds me of the fruity syrup my district's escort stirred into their rum or the berries that Grandmother used to mash up and put in soups. Grandmother. Grandmother who always believed I would find my person, Grandmother who's probably going to succumb to her illness soon, Grandmother who'll never get to see me happy again and who'll be alone for the rest of her life and die all by herself without medical attention in her favorite saggy blue armchair. Grandmother.
I'm sorry, Grandmother.
Ardledge Merton, 18, D4M:
Winnie, Adrian, look away. I never wanted to do this, never wanted to be a part of these Games. The arena is full of fear, and the spicy, crisp aroma of pine trees and chilly weather combines with the screams of terror and the sight of blood in a sickening mélange of everything I wanted to avoid. Griffin, Sorrel, Chip, and I were all in short range of each other when the countdown ended, but Emily was out of sight. So was Trey. There's no way to know if she'll be alright, but for now, I've hurtled across a balance beam, hauled myself up a thick rope, and run up a succession of flat pedestals before ducking through a metal opening.
The temperature drops by what feels like another ten degrees. I've made it inside the Cornucopia, through some sort of side entrance. I grab the biggest backpack I can, jump out, and toss it down to the ground where I hear a grunt of what I hope is exertion as Griffin catches the bag, and not of pain as it falls on his head. I re-enter the Cornucopia and, taking care to stay low and hidden from sight, locate a curved dagger and a warhammer. I was looking for a tanto and a morningstar, but this is no time to be picky, so I slide them into my belt, along with a coil of rope that's laying on top of a deadly-looking longsword. Just as I'm making my escape, I hear a telltale scoff as I come face-to-face with Lyra-Rose. A bow and quiver of arrows are slung over her shoulder. She's holding a tanto too, one that I kind of want to snag, and before I can react, she slashes it across my open palm.
It's not my dominant hand, and I could hypothetically stab her, but seeing the slickness of my own blood is revolting enough to almost make me vomit. Instead, I form a fist and slug her in the jaw, stepping over her and grabbing the handle of the tanto as she loses her balance and falls down. I rush out of the Cornucopia, trying not to attract the attention of the deadlier tributes, as I swerve and somehow manage to make my way to the ground with no further injuries. To my great relief, Griffin is holding the pack, and Chip is with him, despite sobbing and hiding his face in Griffin's shirt. The cause seems to be a pretty bad wound on his wrist, almost like somebody tried to chop through it with an axe.
As Griffin and I try to plot a safe course, flanking Chip to protect him from further harm, I spot Sorrel's prone body crumpled on the dirt and leaves, an arrow protruding from her back. There's only one tribute I know of who's acquired archery supplies thus far. Sorrel is only about ten yards out from the Cornucopia pedestal, and I feel a surge of anger thinking about Lyra-Rose and what she did to my ally. I instinctively want to run over to Sorrel, see if there's any way we can resuscitate her, but Griffin pulls me back before I can try. "No," he orders me. "We're taking Chip and finding Emily, and then we're getting far away from here."
As it turns out, Emily seems to have vanished into thin air. I make a careful loop around the black pond, but I don't see her in any direction, so the three of us head to safety. Still gripping my new tanto, I pass Griffin the warhammer and Chip the other dagger with a sheepish smile. "Sorry it's not what you trained with, but it's better than nothing." Once we're onto the snow and far enough away from the action that the faces are indistinguishable from one another, I feel much safer, and we pause in a sparse copse of trees to examine the contents of the backpack.
Inside it, we find a whole mess of ropes and carabiners, a thin spool of wire and some elastic cables with hooks on the ends, an unfilled water bottle, a canister of water purification capsules, a lump of cheese, a loaf of bread, a bunch of cured meat wrapped in wax paper, and some greasy-looking cubes that are, according to the packaging, able to turn into soup upon contact with hot water. I add my spare coil of rope to the pack. While I'm glad to have plenty of food and some survival equipment, we don't have any actual water. We also don't have what we were really looking for–a first aid kit, some bandages, a roll of gauze, anything. My hand isn't too bad, but Chip's wrist is more severe than I thought.
Upon closer inspection, I found I couldn't bear to look at it, so Griffin dealt with it instead. He reported that the cut was even deeper than we initially realized and that some of the bone was exposed. Though his face is contorted with pain, Chip haltingly explains to us that he had a run-in with the girl from District Eight, Elle, who was indeed carrying an axe, probably to give to her ally Jenna. If a hatchet can chop logs of wood down the middle when wielded by an experienced lumberjack, it's clear how even an amateur like Elle could cause such gruesome results on human flesh. If Jenna had been on the other end of that axe, it likely would have been a whole lot worse.
There's no time to mourn Sorrel's death, or to go back to seek out Emily. The best we can do is distance ourselves from the carnage, find a shady spot, and try to alleviate Chip's pain by packing some (hopefully) clean snow onto the injury. Despite the brave face I'm putting on, I know it won't do anything. This cut needs to be cleaned, treated with antiseptic, and protected from the elements so it doesn't get infected. We won't be able to do much more on our own, even if we do find a source of water. No, if Chip is to recover, what we need is a sponsor.
Jenna Reyer, 18, D7F:
I feel much better with an axe in my hands. Elle is fetching supplies from the Cornucopia, and although she's been very cocky about her gymnastics skills of late, I'm glad she's still here. She wasn't lying when she said she knew what she was doing. I have high hopes for her survival. The Careers seem to be trying to snipe tributes from the safety of the pedestal and are having limited success. After Lyra-Rose failed to keep the Ardledge boy out of the supplies, Rafe took over and has proven much more adept at defending the spoils. Still, Elle manages to skillfully evade him with flips and vaults.
Pain runs through my torso as I bring my axe into a defensive position, but sometimes there's nothing to do but grit your teeth and see your duty through. The Career boy from One, Oscar, pegged me between the ribs with a throwing knife. It's shallow and will heal, but it hurts badly when I have to use my abdominal muscles to shift the balance of my axe. Even so, I'm glad for the protection my newly attained weapon offers. It allows me to watch out for Elle as she tries to figure out where Radley is. The blade of the axe is already stained with blood. Elle apparently tried to dispatch one of the outlier kids who was in her way.
I survey the field. The snow behind our starting plates, which was once smooth and white, is now marred with crimson stains. Bootprints of varying sizes criss-cross over it, and dead tributes litter the dirt in the center. I spot Sorrel, the Twelve girl, and Harry, the Eight boy, both unmoving but still seeping blood into the ground, which is rapidly becoming mud with the addition of so much liquid. As I watch, the pair from Five falls. A spear flies cleanly through the throat of Ryan, the male tribute, and Thys, the female, is just reaching the mouth of the Cornucopia when Rafe appears right in front of her and his scimitar nearly lops her head clean off.
My soreness is compounded by the weight of a box I picked up, and although I'd love to see what's inside, I don't want to risk taking my eyes off the landscape in front of me. Alert as ever, I see Elle rooting around in the Cornucopia, on a desperate hunt for throwing knives. One thing I noticed is that there only appears to be one bandolier of throwing knives available. There were two alternatives, a set of handheld darts picked up by Zea, the Nine girl, and since the actual knives are obviously in the possession of Oscar, Eliza, his fellow Career, is using shurikens instead, which are quite similar, just more ornate and with a different shaped tip.
Elle eventually decides to end her search, but she does pick up a short sword, as well as something that looks like a giant pair of scissors. I can't imagine what it's used for, but if she thinks it'll be valuable, it's worth a shot. My main concern, however, is still my inability to see Radley. I know that Rafe was planning on going after him, but I haven't definitively seen him since the gong rang. I suspect that Rafe probably chased him, but I also know that Radley can fight back, and I'm morbidly relieved by both what I do see and what I do not. There's a fat slash of red along Rafe's stomach, and he's getting rather sluggish. There's also only one corpse by him, and that's Thys, whose brown skin and shiny black hair could never be mistaken for Radley's fairer looks.
Although she's way too arrogant, Elle has served me well today, bounding up with a backpack and her weapons in hand. We agree to head to the steepest precipice to claim the advantage of higher ground and a good view if Radley is somewhere near us, and I'm happy to walk off with at least one ally, even if she's not the one I'm actually friends with.
Oscar Poudret, 17, D1M:
Things have not been going to plan. The idea was that each of us Careers chose a target, someone we had to kill, and with a normal kickoff, that would've worked fine. Unfortunately, the Cornucopia is situated on top of a pedestal, and an obstacle course is surrounding it. Ideally, we would've been able to run around and give chase. Here we can't compete with the speed of people on the ground, and the best we can do is just fire at them from above since there's no way to traverse the course quickly enough to attack specific individuals.
Another problem is that the more agile outliers can weave in and out of the obstacles and use the arena to their advantage. The Cornucopia itself has three different entry points, and we can't guard them all, which is why plenty of outliers have gotten supplies. Radley, the boy from Nine who pissed off Rafe in training, was one of the first ones up here, and he kicked a whole bunch of backpacks and crates over the edge of the platform before anybody got in his way, which has resulted in a bunch of outliers on the ground getting weapons and supplies and just running away.
When Radley was scaling a cargo net on his way down, Rafe caught him and started pulling the net up so he could corner him, but it backfired horribly. Apparently, Radley's even better with that sickle than we thought because he cut Rafe across the belly and then jumped onto a lower platform. Luckily, before he could get to the ground unscathed, Rafe leapt down after him and inflicted some major damage on his chest with that scimitar. Hopefully, the combination of a ten-foot fall and his fresh injuries will be enough to kill him, or at least cause him to bleed out later, but something tells me Radley is going to stick around for at least a little while longer. Rafe has since rejoined us and fought valiantly to protect the supplies, even claiming the Five girl as a kill, but we've gotten almost nowhere, collectively being responsible for only four deaths.
One of which was caused by Lyra-Rose, and none of which was caused by me. Doing worse than that little priss is humiliating, and borderline offensive. At least it looks like we're in for another kill. Trey's on the ground, pinning down the younger girl from Six. I swing across a series of bars and slide down a thin pole until my feet crunch down on the turf. I'm a curious person, and while my allies are sussing out the remaining tributes (the pair from Three is still unaccounted for, and we think they're somewhere in the Cornucopia) I might as well take a peek. As it turns out, Trey has decided to give the Capitol a good show and is tracing down Amiee's throat with a knife. Cruel, but I understand. He's sure to make it quick when the time comes, right?
Wrong. He carves a divot of flesh from her arm and spears it, waving it around like it's a piece of meat on a fork. He mocks her before going for her other arm, and sticks it on next to the first piece, as though he's building a kabob. He skewers the apple of her cheek next, and she tries to sit up quickly so her head will be pierced instead, but he shoves her chest back down, pressing on it so she can't try to go quicker. I can understand a little taunting, maybe, but this is straight-up cruel and unnecessary. If you have to kill somebody, you kill them as fast as possible. No, Amiee is begging, and begging loudly for him to just kill her already, but he keeps her waiting.
I decide to intervene at once, running over and giving him a hard shove. "Back off, man," he says gruffly. Taking matters into my own hands, I grab a throwing knife and flick it downwards, a straight shot through Amiee's heart, because the best I can do is put her out of her misery before Trey can inflict more harm. This was clearly the wrong move because Trey glares at me and trains his switchblade at my chest instead. "You stole my kill!" he snarls. I crash-tackle him before he can stab me, and he rips my sash of knives away, chucking it towards the Cornucopia, where it catches on the rung of a ladder and dangles precariously above the black pond.
I end up on top of him, but he gets a fistful of my hair and yanks it, and our positions switch. He uses his legs to pin my torso to the ground as he stabs downwards, but I roll, and although my side is now shredded and a horrible pain is blooming there, I'm still breathing, which is a plus. Grabbing him by the shirt collar, I throw Trey off of me, and we ram into one another, this time with him looming over me. He keeps me at arm's length, standing above me, switchblade extended out as I scrabble backward, trying and failing to find purchase in the crispy leaves and twig fragments. My mind holds nothing but dread and fear until I look at the Cornucopia and see Livi looking down, twirling a spear in each hand.
There's a flutter of relief. At least she'll be more merciful. I'm expecting a pity kill, for her to take careful aim at me the way I did Amiee, but her first spear is a perfect spiral towards Trey's lower back. He hears the way the breeze whistles around it and turns in the nick of time, dodging to the side just an instant too late. Instead, I witness the exact moment it shatters his hip and he drops to his knees, as well as the exact moment the second spear catches him in the back of the neck. He slumps forward, and Livi shows up right away. "The pair from Three?" I ask.
"Nowhere in the Cornucopia. Must have bolted." She pulls me to my feet and notices the blood oozing from my side. "Trey got you?"
"Yeah."
"What'd you do to make him go nuts like that?" She retrieves my bandolier of knives and gives it back to me, then wraps an arm around my waist and borderline carries me to a thick plank where I take a break.
"He was torturing some kid and I did what was right."
"Let me guess, he thought you stole his kill?"
"How'd you know?" Livi chooses her next words very carefully as she examines my injury.
"Some people are territorial. It's best to avoid them when they're doing something, even if it's despicable. You were very foolish to get in the middle of that."
"Thanks for saving me."
"Don't thank me, just don't pull stupid stunts that could get you killed. Tell you what, we'll get you some medicine, fix you up properly, and rest for a day before we go hunting. Does that sound alright?"
"Yeah."
"Good boy. C'mon." A week ago, Livi was treating me like a disposable plaything. Now she's being nice and going out of her way to help me. Even though I have no idea what she's trying to accomplish, I know there's no way I'll be able to poison her now. Maybe I'm not the most ethical person in Panem, but I can't repay her rescue with murder.
As I gingerly mount the steps, I come to a realization: being in Livi's good graces means the difference between life and death, and if I am to escape these Games, I have to play hers first.
Kill Tracker:
Livi Carnelian: II
Oscar Poudret: I
Eliza Maddox: I
Rafe McClellan: I
Lyra-Rose Ripley: I
Alliance Tracker:
Career Pack: Oscar, Livi, Rafe, Eliza, Lyra-Rose
Protective Older Brothers: Ardledge, Griffin, Chip
Manipulators and Their Meat Shield: Soren, Pola, Zea
Lumberjack, Gymnast, and Farmer: Jenna, Elle
Loners: Quinten, Damon, Radley, Emily, Soya
Placement Tracker:
24th Place: Harry Striffer, 16, D8M, hit with shuriken thrown by Eliza Maddox
23rd Place: Sorrel Harding, 13, D12F, shot with arrow fired by Lyra-Rose Ripley
22nd Place: Ryan Ritz, 15, D5M, hit with spear thrown by Livi Carnelian
21st Place: Thys Kurono, 16, D5F, slashed with scimitar wielded by Rafe McClellan
20th Place: Amiee Smith, 13, D6F, hit with knife thrown by Oscar Poudret
19th Place: Trey Copper, 18, D10M, hit with spear thrown by Livi Carnelian
Eulogies:
Harry: Harry was an amazing tribute who just wanted to find love. Unfortunately, there wasn't another tribute that I could juxtapose for a romance with him, which meant his arc could never be truly fulfilled. Harry's carefree cheerfulness was so great to help balance out the heavier aspects of this story, but as they say, the good die young.
Sorrel: Sorrel's youth was a sharp contrast to her fiery, confident personality, but her inexperience and status as a District Twelve tribute meant nobody really believed she could win. Lyra-Rose's arrow couldn't have killed her allies Griffin or Ardledge, and it was a stroke of bad luck that such a physically fragile tribute was hit.
Ryan: Ryan had a tragic childhood at the Kitters' orphanage, but his good heart and caring nature just weren't suited to the Hunger Games. He was fun to write about, but his mellow personality and absence of distinctive ambitions meant that although it was sad, his death in the Bloodbath wasn't much of a surprise.
Thys: Thys was strong and good with her weapon, but the same impulsiveness that drove her to volunteer drove her right into the Cornucopia and Rafe's pointy scimitar. Had she made better choices, she might still be living, but her lack of practical decision-making skills meant she couldn't go as far as she hoped.
Amiee: Amiee was so sweet and lovable, and quite a popular tribute. I loved writing about a younger kid with a not-tragic backstory. Her knowledge of survival procedures may have proved helpful to her alliance had she survived, but sadly, she wasn't strong or fast enough to escape Trey's clutches.
Trey: Trey has been an incredible villain character, and honestly, he was one of my favorite tributes to write. His hatred for Emily was so extreme, and for such a small offense! Trey might've been a real contender, but several of the other Careers were just too averse to torture for that to happen.
Thank you to tri96380, YawningAbyss, wiifan2002, SakuraDreamerz, eik ndn5, and wiifan2002 again for these six incredible tributes!
Hey y'all!
The Bloodbath has arrived! How did you like it? I tried to make the length of each tribute's POV about the same, but just so you know, things will be a little less uniform now that we're in the Hunger Games. I'm testing out this new format to help everyone keep up with what's going on in the arena. Parts of it are borrowed from my friend Tia/contemporarydancer2 (who you should definitely check out)! I'll be publishing three more chapters in April, and in May, there will be a new chapter each Friday and Sunday. If anybody's interested in sponsoring a tribute, just shoot me a PM at any time!
– LC :)