DAY 11
District 7
The Reality of District 7
District 7 was a monstrously sized district. Only 11 and 9 rivaled it, and they were dedicated to food production, to maintaining the population of the sprawling empire.
District 7 just grew trees.
Trees are what are generally known as 'slow growing.'
At least, that was the reason that was generally given for the sheer land area.
In truth, and really only a select few were informed of this fact, about a third of all arenas for any Games were peppered within District 7's borders—with giant walls, of course, and electric force fields to keep the arenas protected, but still, that's where they were.
That said, while only a select few were informed, a great (great) many others guessed.
Most of the Capitol, for one.
Most of District 7 for another.
It was just the slightest bit obvious to those in the Capitol who went on vacations to prior Games what the surrounding visage looked like.
And it was just the slightest, tiniest bit obvious to those in District 7 when whole transport routes were completely reworked to circle around a giant area, when other giant areas in the District had once received the same treatment, when all the giant areas had giant fences around them, when there was a new one about every three years, and the other years had arena climates that didn't quite work in District 7…
For some reason, District 7 didn't have the hardest time guessing why, exactly, their District was so large.
So District 7 knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the Arena was not within their borders this year.
But they also knew exactly where all the planes and helicopters and giant trucks of stuff had been going since the end of the Games last year.
So it didn't take much to figure out that the arena was in the north and (based on how quickly some of the aircraft were sighted coming back around) barely above the canal.
(Which, incidentally, made it still in their territory—most maps of Panem had District 7 stretching far above the canal, for all that no wood ever made its way down from there.)
So when, ten days into the Centennial Censure, the screen cut out just a few frames too late—when everyone in Panem simultaneously realized that the Alliance was running past the barrier, that they were out…
Well, District 7 had spent the past century, give or take, living around the arenas that served as entertaining death traps to the Capitol.
They carried tools powerful enough to lumberjack, had the muscles to prove it, and were right next door.
That wasn't to say that the sudden, spectacular burst of movement from the District was organized, or that the solution was very clear.
But it was clear that if there were to be a solution, it would be now.
Overpowering the Peacekeepers was a deadly but successful venture, and those who felt physically most fit for the task set to wrestling away the weapons (unfortunately set to work only for their owners, but still better to have then allow to remain with the enemy) and killing, and killing, and killing.
Their kill/be killed ratio wasn't a remotely pleasant thing to consider, but they didn't care.
For the past century they'd had to watch their children endure this torture to save their friends, families, even strangers; the adults of District 7 had no doubt they could do the same to save everyone.
Meanwhile truck after truck after truck after truck was being loaded.
There was unfortunately little they could do about the aircraft that were no doubt barreling toward and around the arena now, but they could do something to stop District 2's ships.
The canal, after all, functioned using a series of canal locks.
And District 7 had tools to work on the hardest woods, had the wood from that job.
They might not know what they were doing, but they had the tools to do it.
And then they were going to build a bridge.