~Chapter Fifteen: Into the Arena~
"Temper us in fire, and we grow stronger. When we suffer, we survive." ―Cassandra Clare, City of Heavenly Fire
Orea woke me the next morning, even before the crack of dawn. I felt haunted, empty, like a shell of myself…and exhausted, because of a night of poor sleep.
She wordlessly handed me a basic outfit to wear—I would shower and then be dressed in a specific getup designated for the Games once we arrived in the area below the first Arena—and looked me up and down critically. I had the feeling that I looked even worse than I felt.
Ben had already left by the time she led me out of my quarters. In fact, the entire floor was empty, like a ghost town. Orea told me that we'd be heading to the roof, for the hovercraft pickup. We were on a very tight schedule. Because of the number of tributes this year, with each tribute being transported in a separate hovercraft and only two hovercrafts being able to access the roof at a time, there was only a few-minute window for my pickup before the next hovercraft would be arriving for the next tribute. Apparently, I was one of the later pickups, though Autumn was already on the roof and would be retrieved at the same time.
The wind gusted, threatening to tear my hair out of its loose ponytail as we exited the dome-shaped room at the top of the Training Center. Sure enough, as Orea led me to one corner of the roof, I could just barely spot Autumn and her stylist on the far side. The sight of her slight, pale form made my chest tighten even further.
Less than a minute after we reached the roof, a sleek, small hovercraft was materializing, and swooping down to scoop me up. The relative quietness of the hovercraft compared to the whistling wind was startling. There was no time to waste. Orea urged me towards the ladder that descended. I followed, still feeling hollow, almost unaccepting of the fact that this was actually happening.
I was actually going to the Arena.
As instructed, I grabbed onto the ladder and began to climb, but then was startled when an electric current ran through my body, gluing me in place. The ladder slowly lifted me inside the hovercraft. My eyes darted around once I was inside, but I was still frozen there by the current, helpless. My heart had picked up to a rapid pace, absolutely hating the sensation of paralysis.
A man in a white coat was approaching me, then, carrying a small case. He sat it down on a table next to me, opening it to reveal two syringes. My stomach plummeted further. What the hell were they doing to me?
"This will allow us to track you in the Arena," he said in a smooth, clipped tone.
Of course, I thought. They had to keep track of us every second we were in there. But were two syringes really necessary for that?
The man pulled up a small screen using a handheld device, scanning it for a second. "Left-handed," he muttered to himself, before grabbing the first syringe.
I still couldn't move, otherwise I would've winced at the sting that emanated from my right forearm as he buried the tracker underneath my skin.
I expected to be able to move, then, until the man turned and grabbed the second syringe. He reached towards my left arm, but appeared to be examining it for a moment, as if to make sure he was injecting the second syringe in the perfect place. A similar sting followed, though this one was slightly worse, the pain resonating throughout my arm.
Two trackers? What do they think I'm going to do, cut one of my arms off? If I lose an arm, I doubt I'm surviving this thing, I thought darkly.
As soon as the Capitol man was done with the syringes, I could move again. The whole process had lasted less than two minutes; he was efficient, I'd give him that. I sucked in a sharp intake of air—even though I'd still been able to breathe during the ordeal—wishing I'd been warned about the unnerving experience of being frozen in place on the ladder.
The man turned and departed without a word, disappearing behind a sliding door, and the ladder went back down to retrieve Orea. I glanced down at each of my forearms, noting the small red pinprick where each needle had entered, the tiny hard lumps under my skin. The left lump seemed slightly larger than the right, and was placed an inch or two further down my arm, too. My left arm was in more discomfort from the procedure than my right, though I dare not complain. Either way, it was unnerving and uncomfortable, thinking of Capitol technology ticking within me.
As soon as Orea rejoined me, a servant entered the area of the hovercraft where we were standing, directing us to a separate room. There was a table with an expansive spread of breakfast, almost as hearty as what we'd been eating every day so far. I felt the hovercraft jerk and then begin smoothly ascending, and I glanced to the side, out the windows. Dawn was breaking, and it was beautiful. On another day, maybe I could have appreciated it more. The sparkling heart of the Capitol was glittering below us, but rapidly shrinking from view. It made me feel sick to my stomach.
"Eat," Orea said in a commanding voice, pointing at the table imperiously.
I reluctantly settled in one of the chairs, staring over the food, but I had no appetite. Quite the opposite.
My stylist sighed heavily, grabbing a plate and beginning to pile it with food: some bacon, eggs, a couple of fluffy rolls, and some fresh fruit. She set it down in front of me with a glare, as if I were a petulant child.
More to make sure she wouldn't lecture me than because of any sort of desire to eat, I reached out and tentatively grabbed a roll. I chewed woodenly, forcing myself to swallow, unable to even speak right now. I couldn't taste the food, only my growing terror at what I was about to face. At any moment, I was sure I would start shaking.
Orea was not the type to make small talk. Instead, she watched me like a hawk, ensuring I was at least attempting to eat. If I went more than a minute or two without taking another bite, she made sure to bark out an order, ensuring I did so.
It was a testament to my overwhelming dread that I didn't even make one snappy comment in response. My nerves were raw, but I didn't even have the wherewithal to speak right now. I didn't trust myself not to sound like a weak, scared, child, which was exactly how I felt.
I turned, looking out of the windows aimlessly, not even registering what I was really eating. I knew she was right; going in on an empty stomach would be a terrible idea. But everything in my body right now was tense, and every time I took a bite, I felt like there was a good chance the food would just come right back up.
Luckily, it didn't. But my stomach still roiled unpleasantly.
After I'd eaten enough for Orea to stop getting impatient with me (I did try to keep sipping on water, knowing dehydration was worse than hunger in the Arena), I took to observing the scenery flashing by. I played with my mother's ring as I stared out the window, feeling its grooves over and over as if memorizing them would help me somehow. At first, we were only flying over the outskirts of the Capitol, ascending ever higher as we did so, but that view quickly transitioned to the wilderness surrounding the city.
I felt a pang of homesickness, seeing the trees and mountains below us, the occasional river glinting in the sunlight. It was a beautiful view, but it was harder to enjoy it from the confines of the hovercraft. It just reminded me how little time I might have left to live. I may never get to return to the wilderness back home, to smell the scent of pine and moss and wildflowers.
We'd been traveling for almost an hour when the windows of the hovercraft abruptly blacked out. Apparently, we were getting close, and Orea commented that we would be landing in less than half an hour. I didn't think it was possible for my stomach to sink any further, but it did. I felt cold, but no longer hollow or numb…the fear and anxiety were rising within me again.
I battled with my emotions and internal turmoil—mostly unsuccessfully—until the hovercraft began to descend. I already knew generally how this worked, and Johanna had briefed us on it, as well. We were going to an underground area, below the Arena, where Orea and I would be sent to a specific chamber, called the Launch Room. There, she'd help me prepare for my entrance into the Arena.
The hovercraft landed shortly after, and Orea beckoned me to follow her. She seemed tenser than usual, and I remembered it was her first year being a stylist. It was her first time sending a tribute directly into the Arena. She was cold in general, but I didn't think she was totally heartless. It couldn't have been easy, knowing the odds were stacked against me. At least, I hoped it wasn't easy for her. I hoped she had humanity buried in there, despite being from the Capitol.
I was instructed to get back on the ladder, which lowered me into a tube leading underground. I shivered despite myself; it was cold and desolate down here. As soon as our feet were on the ground, a Peacekeeper who had been waiting for us began to lead us wordlessly towards the Launch Room. It was quiet, tension permeating the air, as we followed him. The Peacekeeper's armored footsteps echoed loudly against the floor of the underground tunnel.
After some twists and turns down the tunnel, we entered the room the Peacekeeper indicated. It was cold and clinical, like I expected, and clearly never used before. How nice, for them to create this just for me, I thought bitterly.
Orea immediately instructed me to go into the adjacent bathroom, so that I could shower and brush my teeth. I obeyed wordlessly. Unlike normal, this shower was not soothing. The hot water and array of foaming Capitol scented soaps did not help me relax; instead, I was once again returning to my thoughts from last night, about how this could be the last time I did any of these things. The thought made me shiver despite the warmth of the shower.
I shouldn't care about something as petty as a shower, I knew. It wasn't even like I had something luxurious like this back home. I was only lingering on it because I knew any time I spent in the Arena would be the absolute furthest thing from luxury, and would make the lukewarm baths back home seem like heaven in comparison.
I felt ill, and glancing at myself in the mirror while brushing my teeth, I noted my complexion matched the queasy feeling. My face was pale and drawn, the pallor contrasting starkly with my dark hair. The smattering of freckles across my cheeks and nose stood out, like they had on Reaping Day. I could only hope my luck would be better today than it was then.
Who am I kidding? I thought morosely. My luck ran out that day. Now my life depends on the whim of the Gamemakers.
Not that I would make it easy for them to kill me. I was still going to fight as hard as I could to survive. I wouldn't roll over and give up. My family deserved better than to see that.
Once I emerged from the restroom, Orea asked if I wanted to wear my hair any particular way. As much as I liked the comfort of the long strands on my shoulders, I knew it was more practical to put it up. I was used to a low ponytail, though at the last minute, I realized that other tributes could try to grab onto that if it came to a close quarters fight. So instead, I had her twist it into a bun and tie it securely, up and out of the way.
A package arrived shortly after she was finished putting my hair up. The clothes I would have to wear; identical for every tribute in terms of style, except our district color would be reflected in the attire. District 7's color was a dark brown, fittingly.
Orea pulled the clothes out of the package, brow furrowed in contemplation as she studied what was inside. The bundle contained a thin, dark-brown long-sleeved shirt, lightweight pants of the same color with several pockets, a basic set of undergarments, and boots that reached just above my ankle. The boots themselves looked sturdy, with very thick soles. They looked more suitable for hiking than running, and I wasn't sure that was a good sign. There was also a pair of ankle-length socks.
"Hmmm. Lightweight. Breathable blend. Will probably dry quickly, but I don't think it's water-resistant, so it's unlikely you'll be dropped into a lake," she said contemplatively, thumbing the fabric of the shirt and pants. Good, I thought with some relief, seeing as how I couldn't swim, as Orea added, "It's going to be hot in there, yet it is long-sleeved despite that, so expect intense sun. The materials would do a poor job protecting from cold weather, though. I doubt there will be extreme temperature changes between day and night. Unless they change that up later."
I nodded, absorbing all of this information (and now realizing how invaluable it was to have a stylist here when the outfit arrived), then quickly got dressed once Orea had completed her analysis. As always, the Capitol attire fit perfectly. It was extremely light and comfortable on my skin. As Orea mentioned, the pants and shirt were airy and breathable. The boots were a bit heavy in comparison. They were flexible enough to run in, but other boots would have been much better-suited for that task. Orea confirmed my line of thinking by noting the boots would function well in difficult terrain.
The stylist scanned me up and down once I was dressed and then nodded, satisfied with my attire. Her silver eyes found mine. "We have a bit of time until you'll have to get on the launch plate. You should eat more."
"I don't think I can," I admitted, stomach roiling with nerves. Despite the long-sleeved shirt and pants I felt cold, so cold. The cold hadn't escaped me since we'd arrived underground, not even when I was in the shower.
She sighed. "At least try." She turned and pressed a button on a panel in the room, until a buttery roll and glass of water arrived. She handed both to me wordlessly. I bit into the roll, but yet again couldn't taste it, and after a few bites I was so worried I was going to be sick that I refused to eat any more. I did finish the glass of water, though. If it was going to be hot in there, water sources might not be easily available.
We sat in chairs, side by side. I was jittery, and my fear had progressed so much that I was trembling now. For a moment I tried to hide it, some odd vestige of misplaced pride not wanting Orea to see my weakness, before I decided I didn't care anymore. I sat there, shaking, staring ahead, but not seeing anything besides the various ways I might die.
After maybe ten or fifteen minutes of this, Orea's voice broke into my train of thought.
"I'm glad you were the first ever tribute assigned to me."
I glanced at her, feeling a flicker of surprise. Those unnatural eyes were fixated on me, unreadable.
"Really?" I asked dubiously. My voice came out thick with my anxiety and terror.
She nodded, once, still stoic. "Yes. My outfits really had a chance to shine when you wore them."
Of course, she's thinking about fashion, part of me thought, but despite that, I still felt slightly grateful to her. Because I was pretty sure Orea was at least trying to cheer me up, the best way she knew how.
"Thank you for doing such a good job," I responded, then glanced back down at my hands, clenched tightly together in my lap. I didn't have the energy to muster the same enthusiasm I'd had when I thanked her before, but right now, I couldn't bring myself to care.
"I think that someone self-assured enough to pull off my designs has a pretty good shot in the Arena, as long as she trusts herself. And her instincts."
The feeling of gratitude increased as I made eye contact with her again. There was an odd burning sensation behind my eyes, but I forced it back. She was definitely trying to cheer me up now. Orea was giving me a vote of confidence, in her own way.
"I hope so," I responded quietly, but I made an effort to ensure my voice didn't waver. I didn't want to undermine her approval as soon as she gave it.
We were silent for a couple of minutes, me still jittering and shaking as the nerves raged throughout my body, until a female voice crackled over the intercom in the room, instructing me to go stand on the metal plate for launch.
It's time, I thought.
I stood, slowly, feeling stiff. In some ways, it felt like Reaping Day all over again. I had to lock my knees as much as possible so that I could walk over to the plate without shaking even more and potentially collapsing. What a sight that would be, me in a jumbled heap on the metal plate as it rose up into the Arena.
I took my place, turning to face Orea. She stood, arms folded, observing me. Not for the first time, something flickered in her expression, something beyond the normal cold mask.
"Good luck," she said. "Remember what I said." There was an edge to her voice that I'd never heard before.
I nodded, maintaining eye contact. I drank in the sight of her as much as possible, because this could be the last friendly face I ever saw. The thought made my stomach lurch, and I gritted my teeth, willing my food not to come up.
Then glass was moving into place, surrounding me, and cutting me off from the Launch Room. Still staring at Orea, even through the glass, I tried my best to straighten my spine. I kept my legs locked, but I was still trembling underneath. I had to at least pretend I wasn't a terrified mess when the Capitol viewers first saw me. Despite the icy cold gripping my insides, threatening to overwhelm me, I had to try to look calm. Though I was sure that would go out the window once the countdown began. I took a deep, stuttering breath, balling my hands in fists at my sides as the metal plate began to rise, Orea slowly disappearing from view.
It was time. Time to see what the Arena held in store. Time to take in my surroundings as quickly as possible, then turn and run as soon as the gong sounded.
Darkness surrounded me as I continued to rise, surrounded by the glass. For a moment, I was cut off from everything, ascending in some small tube below the earth. I felt smothered, claustrophobic, surrounded by the pressing black. Seconds trickled by, with me feeling like a trapped animal. Then, abruptly, I was coming into open air, and the glass was being lowered.
The brightness was extremely jarring compared to the darkness from before, and I squinted, trying to adjust. For a second, or two, I couldn't see anything amidst the overbearing sun; all I could register was oppressive heat. Orea had been right about the temperature. Then, blinking rapidly, I realized I had to get my bearings and glanced around as the Arena finally came into view, nerves and panic threatening to overwhelm me.
I was looking for Ben. Or Cato. Or whoever stood next to me, so I could at least have an idea what was going on.
Instead, I saw nobody.
Not a single tribute.
I was alone, in a small clearing, with trees a short distance away on all sides.
What the fuck? I thought.
My brain tripped over itself in befuddlement, as I could not comprehend what I was seeing. Where was I? Where was everybody else? Why was I by myself? Had they accidentally taken me to the wrong place? But no, that wasn't possible, the Capitol didn't make mistakes. Surely, they had-
Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed out then, breaking my confused train of thought.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games!"
I glanced around wildly, taking in my surroundings, but still not comprehending. I was in a grassy clearing, and there were trees perhaps thirty or forty feet away on each side, but no sign of anyone else.
"As you may have noticed, the arrangement is a bit…different this year, for some of you!" He sounded delighted by the concept.
So this is intentional, I thought, my heart slamming against my ribcage.
"Twenty-four of you are currently located in the center of the Arena, around the Cornucopia, as is traditional in the Games. However," and I could practically hear Claudius grinning as he spoke, "your partners—the other twenty-four tributes—are currently spread out around the very edge of the Arena. You will have to find each other if you wish to succeed in the Games! Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Then his booming voice was silent, and I felt dizzy with disbelief, as a neutral female voice came over the loudspeaker.
"60. 59. 58. 57," The countdown began to ring out. I was still caught off guard and reeling.
Whatever you do, don't move until the gong sounds, I instructed myself, forcing my feet to remain locked to the metal plate beneath them.
So, Cato was located in the center of the Arena, by the Cornucopia, where the bloodbath would take place. And I—along with half of the other tributes—were along the outer edge of the Arena. Nowhere near them.
"50. 49. 48. 47."
Part of me should probably be relieved that I wasn't near the bloodbath, that I was supposedly so far away from it, but there was something uniquely unsettling about starting alone in the Arena. Especially when my life might depend on how Cato fared, and I had no way to find that out unless…unless I suffered a penalty for his death.
"39. 38. 37," the countdown continued.
How far was I away from my partner, anyway? Claudius had said that twenty-four of us were "spread out along the very edge of the Arena." That implied I might be a good distance away from the nearest tribute, but it was impossible to tell, without knowing how big the Arena was. For all I knew, I could take off running and encounter someone else almost immediately.
"31. 30. 29."
I glanced around, once again scanning my surroundings. The first thing I had noticed was the oppressive heat, but I tried to take in more details, knowing I didn't have much time. The presence of trees was comforting, though these were different than the ones back home and there wasn't a pine tree in sight. Still, quite a few of these trees were tall and broad, and a lot of them—at least at initial glance—looked suitable to climb. The air itself was currently very dry; but with the amount of greenery here, I guessed there would at least be a rainstorm from time to time.
Then again, the Gamemakers controlled every aspect of the weather, and it was all artificial. The Arena may not follow normal climate rules.
"18. 17. 16."
There was dense undergrowth packed between the trees, with bushes and plants of all shapes and sizes. Squinting, it looked like some of the bushes had thick thorns. It would be slow going trying to navigate the forest. I'd have to keep an eye out for anything poisonous. I heard the cries of birds in the distance, and I could tell the forest was alive with insects and wildlife. Right now, there was very little wind, and sweat was already forming on my brow.
"11. 10. 9."
The most evident—and concerning—thing was the lack of supplies or weapons in my line of sight. I didn't see anything nearby. The clearing was completely bereft of anything useful. So obviously, the Gamemakers wanted me to charge straight into the forest, to head towards my partner.
"5. 4. 3."
But which direction was that? They said I was at the edge of the Arena, and clearly they wanted me to proceed towards the center…but how was I supposed to know which way that was?
"2. 1. 0."
The gong sounded, reverberating throughout the air. The Games had begun.
I didn't move from the plate, not immediately.
I wiped my brow with my sleeve, glancing around nervously.
I tensed, expecting the worst, as if another tribute was going to come rushing through the forest at any minute. If I were at the bloodbath, I'd already be halfway to the forest by now.
But here, where I couldn't see anything at all due to the dense forest? Where I wasn't even sure which way to go? Where I was deliberately left without supplies?
This was the opposite of how I expected the Games to start.
I turned on the plate in a circle, once again keenly trying to observe my surroundings, trying to take in anything I missed. I raked my eyes over the forest, to see if I'd skipped over something interesting or indicative of my location. Surely there was some hint of which way was towards the center of the Arena? The Gamemakers wouldn't want me wandering along the edge, they normally hated when tributes got too far from everyone else…
I glanced up at the sky, which was completely clear and absent of anything of interest. Judging by the sun's position I could tell which direction was east and west, but that didn't help, since I didn't know where along the edge of the Arena I was starting.
Almost on impulse, I glanced down at the metal plate.
And there, on one side at the very edge of the plate, was a tiny glowing arrow, pointing to a particular part of the forest. It definitely hadn't been there when I first stepped on. Judging by the sun's position, the arrow was pointing roughly east.
I knew it, I thought. The Gamemakers didn't want me wandering in the wrong direction.
Still, I hesitated again, not yet going off in the direction of the arrow. Despite the obvious guidance, I didn't trust the Gamemakers.
Of course, I knew I couldn't linger here. But still…the Gamemakers wouldn't want me going away from all the action. That was just boring. Me being all by myself at the outer edge of the Arena? Didn't make for good entertainment. For all I knew, the arrow was pointing to a direction that would force me to cross paths with the nearest tribute.
While I could safely assume that following it would at least lead me closer to the center…some part of me could not justify obeying the Gamemaker's obvious direction to the letter, without questioning it even a little. It seemed too easy.
Maybe it was stupid to distrust the Gamemakers so quickly, but I had seen enough Games now to know that they were just as likely to point me in the direction of the nearest source of danger as they were to point me to Cato.
With this thinking in mind, I stepped off the plate, but adjusted my angle slightly, to where I was going maybe fifteen degrees north of the direction the arrow depicted. More east northeast, instead of directly east. That way I would slowly be progressing towards the center of the Arena, without blindly trusting the Gamemakers' guidance.
Hopefully I could use the position of the sun to ensure I continued to move in a relatively straight direction. Since the arrow had roughly been pointing east, I assumed I was currently positioned generally near the far west side of the Arena.
That was as much of an understanding of the situation as I could get right now. It was time to go. I took a deep breath, and took my first step into the Arena.
I was like a hunted animal after I left the plate, jogging but not running, glancing wildly in each direction. Because of the thickness of the undergrowth, there was not a lot of visibility. I could probably get pretty close to another tribute without seeing them, though I may hear someone traipsing through the woods with how difficult the forest looked to navigate. The heat and the sun were already beating down heavily, and I was grateful I wasn't wearing a jacket.
I slowed down once I hit the tree line, pausing for a moment. At least it was trees and not a desert or ocean. I could handle trees, even though these were unfamiliar to me. Their leaves were mostly very broad, and the amount of green—along with the sheer density of the plants along the forest floor—was jarring. There wasn't a pine needle or coniferous tree in sight.
With this much vegetation, I would expect it to rain a lot in this forest. Though with how dry the air was right now, and the fact that the ground wasn't muddy, it was clear there had been no rain recently. I supposed appearances were deceiving, and I really couldn't be sure how the Gamemakers were going to micromanage the climate. I supposed it would be too easy for them to give us fresh water early on in the form of rainfall.
My eyes skimmed the undergrowth nearest me until I found a place where it was slightly less thick, with fewer of the thorny bushes.
How embarrassing would it be to get a deep cut from a bush, and die of infection from it before even finding Ben or Cato?
Taking a deep breath, I pressed into the woods. The shade of the large, broad-leafed trees overhead cooled the air slightly. Direct sunlight only broke through the thick tree canopy infrequently, so it wasn't constantly beaming down onto my skin, and the majority of the forest was well-shaded.
The lack of wind, though, meant it was still sweltering in here, even without the sun frying me.
I immediately confirmed that progress would be slow, and I'd have to be careful in choosing my path. There wasn't exactly a walking trail here. Undergrowth and various types of plants pressed in all around. Some of them were small, but other bushes and plants were taller than me. Many of them were thorny, and I would have to skirt around them. It would not be an easy, or a fast, hike.
I tried to reassure myself by glancing at the thick tree trunks, knowing I could climb in a pinch. With how broad the leaves of the trees were, and the density of the undergrowth, I could hide fairly well if I needed to.
Then again…I wouldn't see a tribute unless I was practically running into them. I'd have to keep my ears open. Hopefully I'd hear them before they were right on top of me.
I walked onward, examining the vegetation intently. Fortunately, most of the plants appeared standard and benign. Still, I planned to minimize the number of branches or leaves touching my bare hands or face, as much as was feasible in this claustrophobic environment. I was sure there would be dangerous plants interspersed here and there.
My eyes darted this way and that as I walked, making sure I avoided the thorny bushes. There were also sporadic flashes of bright flowers, a couple of which I recognized as poisonous to eat, and others I did not recognize at all. I decided to avoid them, too (in some situations, "bright" meant "deadly"), which was easy since they appeared to be pretty rare amongst the greenery.
The ground was level, in terms of elevation, but with the number of large roots and branches underfoot, I still had to be careful not to trip or stumble.
Before I got too far, I broke off a short branch, thick enough not to be flimsy, but not too heavy. I used that as a pseudo walking stick, to help push back the dense greenery around me as needed, with the intent of progressing a tiny bit faster. It would also come in handy if I needed to brush aside some of the thornier plants to skirt by.
Still, though, I prioritized caution over anything else, not that speed was really an option in here. I knew how to be quiet in the forest, and that was the most important thing right now. Minimizing the noise. I couldn't be as quiet as back home, but there was no need to hack at the bushes around me or draw attention to myself. For a moment, I allowed myself to be grateful for the fact that I'd grown up in an environment that had allowed me to familiarize myself with traveling in the woods.
Even if the woods back home were nothing like this, really.
I kept my ears peeled as much as possible as I went. As the minutes passed and I left the clearing further behind, the ambient noises of the forest increased in volume. This forest was very alive, seemingly teeming with wildlife. There were quite a few birds in the area, and I often heard rustling in the undergrowth that was reassuring. That meant there were animals to catch for food, if I was able to get something to make snares. None of the animals sounded big. I occasionally noticed a tiny lizard or frog perched on a tree drunk or flitting along a leaf. These I stayed far away from, for now. Once again, their bright colors suggested danger despite their size.
There were also plenty of insects fluttering about, or buzzing past my ears, but nothing too oppressive.
I really didn't want to have to eat insects, but I knew I would if it came down to it.
I hadn't heard any tributes. If I did, my plan was to either hide immediately or scale a tree. I knew the danger of running into others increased the closer I got to the middle of the Arena…but I wasn't sure how long it would take to even get there. Plutarch had said these Arenas were "slightly smaller" than normal, but I wasn't able to move very quickly, given the fact there was no walking path and I had to meander through so many plants. Who knew how far I'd be able to get today?
Cato was nowhere close, that much was certain. I found myself wondering whether Ben had been at the bloodbath, too, or if Caspian was the partner chosen for that. Claudius had made it sound like each pair was split evenly, with one at the Cornucopia and one on the outskirts of the Arena.
I really hoped Ben didn't have to fight in the bloodbath.
Thinking of my district partner and Cato made my stomach lurch. The bloodbath was surely going on right now. It usually took hours before all the cannons went off signifying that the fighting had stopped at the Cornucopia and all of the deaths were determined.
At this very second, Cato or Ben could be in mortal danger. Although the only real reason to be concerned about Cato was because I would be immediately penalized if he died. But Ben…
No. I couldn't think about him right now. I had to worry about myself. Here I was, alone in the woods near the edge of the Arena, with no weapons or supplies.
I continued to observe the plants as astutely as possible as I walked. I couldn't be careless. The thorny bushes were frequent enough that I really had to be careful not to scrape myself on any of them. Sometimes I had to backtrack and go around a particularly threatening-looking set of bushes; some of the thorns were over an inch long, and I knew they'd create a painful gash. There were still quite a few I didn't recognize. Still, I persisted, hoping I'd eventually find something I recognized as edible.
Unfortunately, despite all of my distractions and the amount of effort I had to expend just to remain careful and vigilant, my mind continuously went back to my partner. Surely he was still alive, otherwise I'd know?
Then again, the cannons for all the tributes who died in the bloodbath always went off in quick succession once the massacre was over. Maybe the Gamemakers would just penalize all the surviving partners at that time. Even if Cato were already dead, I may not realize it—or feel the consequences—until I heard the series of cannons later this afternoon.
The thought only made me more tense, and more prone to flinch at every nearby sound, worried that each time it could mean certain doom for me.
But I pressed on.
…
A couple of hours later (around noon, by my estimate), I was coated in sweat. Even under the shade of the trees, the heavy heat was oppressive. And worse, I'd seen no signs of a water source nearby. It wasn't ideal.
In fact, I'd go so far as to say "frustrating."
I stopped for a moment, leaning against a thick tree, panting slightly. I had never considered myself out of shape. But the heat, combined with the slow progress and the obstacles in my path, made this hike more tiring than most. I was sure the stress and exhaustion didn't help. I would probably have to make frequent stops as the day wore on, hampering my already-slow journey even further. Everything in here was making this difficult. How far would I even be able to make it before dark today with all of these stops and no food and water? A few miles? More? Less? Impossible to tell.
That was assuming I was even going towards the center and hadn't lost my sense of direction. I consulted the position of the sun frequently, but due to the thickness of the canopy above, I knew that would get harder and harder as the sun crossed the sky and began to sink.
As I rested against the tree, covered in perspiration, I was very grateful for all of the food I'd eaten during my time in the Capitol, though, and to Orea for forcing me to eat this morning. I still had plenty of energy reserves, even though my mouth was getting dry. I couldn't imagine how much worse it would be without me forcibly eating and drinking this morning.
At least I hadn't run into any other tributes yet.
What I'd really wanted to do was climb a tree to get my bearings, perhaps from a high vantage point. Unfortunately for me, none of the trees I'd seen so far had really towered over the nearby surroundings enough to give an adequate view. On top of that, even on the tallest trees I'd observed, the climbable branches didn't really go high enough to get a good angle. They'd allow me to escape a tribute who couldn't climb well, but not see over the Arena.
At one point, I'd still selected one particularly sturdy-looking tree and climbed as high as I could (while still being safe). Despite the attempt, I couldn't get high enough for an advantageous view, and I just couldn't see much. It was just all green, all around me, everywhere.
I was continuously keeping the idea in the back of my head, though, in case I came across a gargantuan tree that I could use to actually scout the area.
As I tried to slow my breathing during the short respite, I glanced around, debating. Typically, lush vegetation was an indicator of water nearby, but the ground wasn't even damp. The Gamemakers clearly didn't want us to have easy access to water upon first getting here. I didn't see any thick vines or obvious water-holding plants, either. The one plant that looked somewhat like a vine was something I remembered from the edible plants lesson, and I was pretty sure it leaked a milky sap that wasn't safe to eat or drink.
I wracked my brains, remembering my lessons about how to find water. I knew that was my most important directive, along with finding Cato. But I wouldn't be able to find Cato without first finding water and sustaining myself, unless the center was a few hours away and I happened upon him. But with how slow the going was, and considering the Arena still had to be big enough for forty-eight tributes despite being smaller than normal, I doubted that.
I didn't hear any gurgling stream or creek nearby. I didn't see any mud nearby, either, which would suggest the presence of groundwater. I supposed I could just try digging, but doing that with my hands would be exhausting and time consuming. Plus I'd have no way to filter out the mud.
Honestly, without any tools at all, it just didn't seem that I could take advantage of any of the handy tactics I'd learn to get water in a pinch. I didn't have a knife, or container, or a plastic bag, or anything useful.
Maybe this forest only stayed green through frequent rainstorms, but I couldn't bank on that happening anytime soon, just because of how the Gamemakers tended to operate.
Animals, I remembered. Often, animal tracks would lead straight to water. So could insect swarms. Even bird flight paths could point me in the right direction.
I set off again, keeping my eyes peeled for animal tracks as best I could, and trying to observe for anything else that could give away the presence of water. I made sure to stop occasionally and listen for a stream or river, but I could only hear the chirping birds, buzzing insects, and animals scurrying off in the undergrowth as they detected my approach (to my relief, I had noticed at least one rodent, meaning I could catch food if I got supplies).
I did try to stick to my general east-northeast direction, based on the position of the sun in the sky, not wanting to get turned around. I had to approach the center of the Arena or I'd never find Cato.
I also realized the irony of the fact that I was actively seeking him out. Oh, how one simple rule can change things, I thought.
Hopefully, Cato was smart enough to stay in the general vicinity of the middle of the Arena. He had to know that I'd been placed somewhere along the Arena's edge, but he wouldn't know which direction. It made way more sense to meet closer to the center. Odds were, if he tried to come find me, he'd be going in the wrong direction.
At least no cannons had gone off yet. Although I couldn't help thinking that this could be a bad sign.
…
For a while, I had little success in locating animal tracks, despite the abundance of animals in these woods. Occasionally I would find a set of what looked like tiny pawprints, but then lose it in the dense plants. I wasn't exactly a tracker, or a natural at this. My limited knowledge of tracking animals came from my time at the snare station.
However, despite the lack of success in finding animal tracks to lead me to water, I did begin to notice that the variety of plants and flora was increasing as I progressed further and further into the woods. The bright flowers—which had been sporadic at first—were becoming more frequent, and there were various types now. A couple were poisonous, I was sure. Another wasn't, but had virtually no taste or nutritional value so I didn't bother picking any of the blooms.
There was one exceptionally unusual looking plant that I noticed two or three times—the blooms were massive and beautifully vibrant, surrounded by a stout and thorny bush. The colors were lovely, but I steered clear. The flowers looked similar to another poisonous plant I remembered from the edible plants station, though much larger. As pretty as it was, I could only assume it was dangerous to eat, and the bush's thorns looked wickedly sharp.
Sometime after one (by my estimate), I had some luck. Nestled between some thorny bushes, I found a tiny plant with some dark red berries and leaves that I was positive were all edible. They weren't much in the way of sustenance, but it was the first edible thing I'd seen that would provide a few nutrients, so I was definitely taking advantage. On top of that, they naturally had a little bit of water in them, so they'd provide some hydration.
Carefully avoiding the thorns nearby, I picked the bush free of berries, stuffing as many in my pant pockets as I could. I then plucked the leaves off, until I couldn't really carry more. Who knew when I'd find something edible again?
I only ate a few of them and saved the rest, though. My hunger and thirst might become unbearable as time wore on and I wanted to conserve them as much as possible.
…
After another hour, I decided to take another short break. Sweat was pouring down my temples. The attire did a pretty good job at absorbing it and was obviously quick-drying, but due to the continuous amount of sweating I was doing now, I still felt damp and disgusting. There was almost no wind at all to bring me relief; the air was dry and still. The lack of water created a need for me to stop more frequently. I was going to dehydrate fast, with the amount of sweating I was doing.
Definitely not ideal. I felt like my timetable to find water was so much shorter in this environment.
That wasn't the only annoying thing. Unfortunately, with the increased variety of plant life as I'd trekked further and further into the woods, also came an increase in the variety of living creatures. I had to shake a spider off of my boot or shirt once or twice. Gross, but seemingly harmless; I'd never been scared of spiders. There were other many-legged insects, too, but they were all small enough to appear innocuous…for now. Fortunately, I'd been in the woods enough in my life to not be afraid of a few bugs.
The flying insects were more frequent, too; occasionally, they'd buzz around my face until I swatted them away. Most of them still didn't bite me, but judging by the itchy bump on my face and a couple on my neck and hands, a few of them certainly had. At least the bites hadn't injected any venom; they were just annoying. The insects were an inconvenience, meant to get on my nerves.
I saw a few more lizards, some of them decently sized, maybe big enough to eat even. I still avoided anything brightly colored. Especially the frogs. I knew vibrant frogs spelled trouble. Fortunately, I rarely saw those.
At one point, I noted a small, yellowish snake, curling around a branch a decent distance away. It wasn't big, but it seriously unnerved me and I gave it a wide berth, keeping an extra careful eye out for more snakes.
Still, these were all things I'd expect in a forest like this. Some of them might've been dangerous, but there was nothing outwardly chasing me or trying to get me.
I assumed the Gamemakers were saving the more dangerous creatures for later.
Sighing in frustration at my general discomfort and situation, I noted a rather large tree nearby, with a gnarled trunk. That would do for a brief respite.
I went over and sat against it after clearing the ground of any bugs or debris, leaning back, trying to figure out my next game plan. The growing dryness of my mouth and throat made my priorities evident, as did the amount of sweat accumulating on my skin.
My eyes were closed—not that I was mentally tired, but I was listening intently to the soundscape around me as I tried to determine my next move—but I jolted into immediate awareness when the cannons started.
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.
They stopped. Apparently, the bloodbath was finally over, and the dead had been determined.
Nine people dead, out of the twenty-four at the bloodbath. It was a pretty standard number of tributes to die during the bloodbath, but it still shocked me to realize more than a third of the tributes there were gone.
At first, I couldn't help the selfish sense of relief that washed over me—I hadn't suffered any obvious penalty, so surely, that meant Cato was still alive. I couldn't believe I was actually hoping for that monster to survive. But right now, his survival might be tied to mine.
Quickly thereafter, the relief wore off, and I felt sick to my stomach for the umpteenth time that day. Nine lives, extinguished already. No doubt in brutal fashion. Probably some of them taken out by my own partner. He probably enjoyed doing it. And, of course, I was worried about Ben, and whether he had been present for the massacre.
I wanted to bury my head into my hands, but on the off chance a camera was fixated on me, I resisted the urge. Looking weak wouldn't help me here at all. I was sure I was already coming across as boring, traipsing about the woods with a complete lack of success at finding water.
Still, the knowledge of nine dead tributes sank deep into my bones, dragging me down, even despite the tiny survivalist part of my brain that was telling me that my odds just got better.
I forced myself to take deep, steady breaths, trying to ignore the mild discomfort in my mouth. That was really going to be a problem if I woke up tomorrow still without having found water. How long could I go without hydration before I wouldn't be able to move, with the amount of water I was losing? Two or three days, maybe?
What a boring death, though. I would assume Gamemakers wouldn't want to see me go out like that.
Knowing them, they'd find a way to redirect the nearest tribute to me to really spice things up.
After a few more minutes I stood up, resuming my trek, trying to put thoughts of my growing dehydration and the bloodbath out of my mind.
About an hour later, another cannon went off. I froze, heart jumping in my throat, a startled flock of birds taking off from the forest nearby.
I stood there, unmoving and immobilized. Adrenaline was coursing through me. If I saw a hovercraft nearby, I was going to pick up the pace. I'd try to run if I need to, even though that would be difficult—maybe nearly impossible—in the dense greenery. A hovercraft would mean the tribute in question had died nearby. Which would mean their killer (whether another tribute, or a part of the Arena itself) was also nearby.
Fortunately, I didn't see any hovercrafts. Or anything, really. After a tense minute or two, the forest sounds returned in full force.
I resumed my trek in the general east-northeast direction.
That's 10 dead, I thought.
After some more miserably hot meandering through the dense undergrowth, I finally had a spot of luck – a set of tracks that were the easiest to follow thus far. It looked like they came from some animal roughly the size of a fox, or maybe even slightly bigger. Hopefully not big enough to threaten me.
I began to follow the tracks, only deviating off of my intended course slightly, because the dryness in my throat and mouth was becoming annoying. I had eaten a few more of my berries once I felt the first signs of hunger, but again resisted the urge to finish them. The juices helped ease my dry mouth briefly, but it wasn't sustainable, and I'd be hungrier tomorrow.
I had just reached a point where I was getting frustrated, because it looked like the tracks had gotten lost in the undergrowth and I was struggling to find them again, when I heard it.
Not a stream, or a river, or a water source.
It was either a big animal, or a tribute.
Fear struck deep within me, and I froze, listening. It was subtle, at first, but getting louder…they weren't far.
It was coming from somewhere ahead of me, to the right. It had to be a tribute, I thought, with how obnoxiously loud the snapping of twigs underfoot and the rustling of bushes were. No animal would do that. Unlike me, this tribute wasn't being particularly cautious. Despite that, I couldn't see them yet. I had the thick vegetation to thank for that. The dense forest ensured they'd have to get closer before they'd come into view.
But I didn't want them to come within my line of sight, not if that meant they'd see me too.
I mentally thanked myself for ensuring I walked as cautiously as possible, even if it slowed my progress. I doubt they'd heard me over their own noise. Hopefully.
My first instinct was to climb; but the nearest tree on each side weren't as conducive to climbing as I'd like. I glanced behind me. There was one a short distance away that could work, but I hesitated. What if that just drew attention to me? The tribute wasn't very far away. They appeared to be alone, and not chasing someone else or running. Right now, I was protected by the thick undergrowth down here. Wouldn't running over and scaling a tree just be more likely to draw their focus? They had no idea of my existence right now, I didn't think.
If they were further away, I could definitely get out of sight before they were close enough to hear or spot me climbing, but now…
I listened intently to the sounds of the tribute's progress. That would impact my decision.
I heard a swear; a female voice. The tribute was still stomping through the undergrowth, and it was easier to hear her trajectory now and pinpoint her location a bit better. She was moving from right to left, but a short distance in front of me. Judging by the sound of the movements, she would cut across the forest a bit ahead of me. Hopefully, she'd continue on to the left, and disappear out of sight. If she didn't turn around, she'd be none the wiser that I was here.
I should hide, I decided. I'd hesitated too long. She was too close now, reinforcing my worry that climbing a tree would be less subtle then just hiding and blending into the undergrowth. She shouldn't cross by close enough to see me if I stayed here.
Quickly I tiptoed to the side, moving as silently as I could, until my front was pressed against the largest nearby tree trunk (thankfully only a few feet away), with the leaves of a sizeable plant at my back. I squeezed myself as close to the tree as possible as I tried to quiet my breathing, which was coming out in shallow pants.
The bark of the tree was warm against my skin as I clung to it. My nerves were crackling under my skin. I didn't dare look around it. That would be more likely to give away my location than anything. I was abruptly thankful for the color of my clothing. I blended into the colors of the trunk quite well.
There was no way she was aware of my presence, right? I was being as quiet as possible, and any small sounds of my progress would've been suppressed by her personal cacophony.
Didn't she realize how much danger she was putting herself in by being so damn loud?
And she was still growing ever louder, crossing to a point where she had to be nearly directly ahead of me now, on the opposite of the tree, probably less than forty feet away. As she neared, I heard some peculiar sounds accompanying her—it only took me a moment to realize she was hacking at the plants and undergrowth around her, with some sort of object. Or, at least, that's what it sounded like. I could hear the thwack of whatever she was carrying as she smacked it against anything that got in her way.
Maybe it was a large stick, like mine. Or maybe it was a weapon. Either way, it was definitely good that I was hiding. The Capitol might think it cowardly to avoid the other tribute like this, but what else was I supposed to do? I was unarmed.
The approaching tribute grew ever louder. Suddenly, she swore again, a string of curse words.
This time, I recognized her voice. And immediately afterwards, I realized why she had no qualms about being loud.
Tatiana, from District 2.
My blood froze in my veins.
One of the most dangerous tributes in the Games was passing close by, only a short distance away on the opposite side of the large tree I was clinging to.
My heart thudded against my chest, as I silently pushed myself even further into the trunk, the bark scraping against me. I didn't care; I wanted to be invisible right now. It was as if every fiber of my being wanted to merge with the trunk itself. She would kill me without hesitation if she saw me, I was positive.
And she could do it bare-fisted, I knew, even if she didn't have a weapon. I didn't dare peek around the tree yet and find out. What if she happened to glance over her shoulder?
Of all the rotten luck…
But no, Tatiana hadn't seen or heard me. Yet. She was making too much noise for that. She swore again, still hacking at bushes as she crossed in front of my tree savior, gradually making her way off towards my left, judging by the noise. At any moment, I knew she could turn around and change directions.
I wanted to close my eyes, to pretend this wasn't happening, but every one of my senses was on high alert right now. There was a legitimate threat to my life nearby.
Now that I knew who the nearby tribute was, it was even more impossible for me to fight her if she noted my presence. I knew the Capitol hated cowardice; but I thought in this scenario, nobody could realistically expect me to try to take her on, surely. Especially if she had a weapon.
How would she have gotten a weapon all the way out here? Surely, that can't be what she's carrying. I thought incredulously. Then I brushed it aside; did it matter? I was avoiding her no matter the cost. A scared animal, hiding from its natural predator.
I bit my lip, hard, a muscle in my hand spasming as I gripped the tree for dear life. My palms were damp with more than sweat, every nerve ending alive with the instinct to flee, to escape the threat.
If she saw me, I'd have to climb the tree I'd spotted earlier. I wasn't sure if she could climb, but I doubt she'd be as good at it as me.
Or maybe I could just run. But progress would be hampered in this damn forest.
My heart was still pounding at an unhealthy rate. The spike of fear made every muscle in my body horribly tense.
Tatiana was still making no effort to hide her tracks or noise. Which meant she really wasn't scared of anyone.
My whole body was trembling, taut with adrenaline and fear.
Tatiana grumbled again. I still couldn't see her—I was positioned to make myself as small as possible and avoid her line of sight—but I could hear the brutal girl's progress due to her lack of care about the noise.
She was in on the left, now, and moving further and further away. That was a good sign. It didn't seem like she was hesitating or planning to change course.
I didn't dare feel relief, though, not yet. The Gamemakers could always do something to turn her back around. I remained frozen there, pushed up against the tree trunk sheltering me, listening intently.
The seconds ticked by. My hands were gripping the bark of the tree, fingernails scraping some of it off; I hadn't realized I was holding on so tightly. My knuckles were white. My pulse was beating far too fast to be healthy.
Tatiana continued to move away, the racket was gradually getting quieter and quieter. A minute had passed. Then another.
Sweat was beading on my forehead, trickling down my back, clothes still damp from my exertions.
Her progress was barely discernible now. It didn't seem like she'd be turning back around. I tried to force some of the tension out of my body, but it took considerable effort.
Well, I'm definitely not heading in the direction she came from, I thought, not that I'd been planning on going that way anyway.
My stomach suddenly lurched with nausea as I wondered if she'd been responsible for the cannon over an hour ago. It hadn't been close by, but how long had passed since then? Over an hour, I thought. With so many tributes, there was no way to know. It was more likely to not have been her. Not that it mattered. Unless it was someone I cared about…
I slowly released a deep breath, still aware that I was trembling slightly. I tried to calm myself, urging my heartbeat to slow down as much as possible. My pulse still pounded in my ears, though, thanks to the adrenaline.
I refused to budge until finally, at long last, I couldn't hear her at all. Then I stepped back from the tree trunk, glancing around nervously. As if someone else might pop out at any second.
That had been close. If the timing had been worse, Tatiana might have seen me.
And while she could be heard from quite a ways away, other tributes might be more subtle, closer to my noise level. If I were cautious, I was still pretty sure I could hear someone coming; but what if they were waiting to spring a trap somewhere?
But no, I couldn't overthink it. I just had to be careful, and trust my instincts. And I had to find water. I couldn't let fear hold me back from following Johanna's directives for survival. Hell, maybe she was watching me right now. Surely Tatiana and I's 'close encounter' was good enough for television. I wondered what my mentor was thinking. She was probably supportive of my decision to hide instead of climbing because of Tatiana's proximity.
I waited several more minutes, just to be absolutely sure the threat wasn't going to return. Then I set off again, with a bit of renewed vigor caused by the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I adjusted my course slightly, trying to put even more distance between myself and the dangerous tribute, checking the sun to approximate my direction.
The animal tracks that I'd struggled to relocate were all but forgotten. I had to get out of here.
…
Evening had arrived, but there was still quite a bit of light when I stopped again. It wasn't as feasible now to note the position of the sinking sun due to the thickness of the forest, but I estimated that I had a couple hours before dusk. Then again, the Gamemakers could be tinkering with the length of day versus night here in the Arena. Nothing was out of their control, so long as we were still within their artificial creation.
Either way, I wanted to formulate a concrete game plan for tomorrow before it got too much harder to see under the thick canopy of trees.
At least the amount of flying insects had lessened. I'd accumulated a couple more small, itchy bites in the interim, and it was hard not to scratch at them. It appeared they became less and less frequent as day transitioned into evening. How kind of the Gamemakers not to make them fully nocturnal yet, I thought sarcastically.
Of course, this probably meant there were worse things that came out at night.
I was pretty sapped of energy, and I felt like I had lost a lot of water weight through sweat, which made the fact that I hadn't found water even worse. My mouth was absolutely parched. This environment was causing the dehydration to set in much more quickly, and it had gotten continuously worse throughout the day. The sudden abrupt spike of adrenaline and terror hadn't helped my energy reserves.
Once more, I assumed my familiar position up against a solid tree drunk as my mind raced, looking through my available options.
I had been fortunate to find another small berry bush—the same type I'd found previously, and so far the only variant of edible berries bush I'd seen—and this time I'd inhaled quite a few berries, mostly hoping the liquid within would help ease the discomfort. While it helped marginally, it wasn't an acceptable substitute for water.
I didn't understand. If half of the tributes were forced to start at the edge of the Arena, why would the Gamemakers not provide a water source? They hated the Games where people died slowly, bloodlessly, because of lack of food or water or extreme elements.
I contemplated the possibilities. It wasn't like I could pretend to fully understand what went on in the psychopathic minds of the Gamemakers, but I could make some general assumptions based on past Games I'd watched.
At first, I considered whether there was only one, or maybe two, water sources in this part of the Arena. That would force interactions between groups of tributes, which would lead to more fighting, and more death. If there weren't many water sources, then it made sense that I was unlucky enough to not find any of them yet.
That seemed unlikely, though. They'd deliberately started half of the tributes spread out along the edge of the Arena. With how far apart we might be from one other, it was hard to imagine a bunch of us just happening to run into each other at the same water source. It wasn't like last year, where there was a massive lake near the center of the Arena that all of the tributes had probably noticed immediately and gravitated towards.
That is, unless the Gamemakers created some sort of dangerous condition that would force us to come together. But was that any more likely? I didn't think so. At least, not yet. I doubted the Capitol viewers would be happy if half the tributes died before ever locating their partners.
Again, I revisited the thought that it had to rain frequently for the forest to be this green in the first place. This led to the assumption that the Gamemakers were withholding the rainfall, for now, but that still didn't answer my underlying question of what we were supposed to do for water in the interim.
The only logical thing I could think of was that there must be some sort of water source not too far away, or a way to get it. It just didn't make sense that they'd put half of us so far away from the Cornucopia, with no weapons or supplies (assuming the others, like me, started empty-handed with nothing nearby), and no way to defend or sustain ourselves. That wouldn't make for good entertainment.
Perhaps the water source was accessible, but just not obvious.
If I was wrong about all of that, and I was truly just the unluckiest tribute who had wandered far away from all water sources, then I would at least hope a Sponsor would help me out. Or maybe, it was too early in the Games for them to want to assist…
I sighed. My brain was going in circles. The easiest explanation was that I was missing something.
I glanced around, once again trying to think of anything that could resolve my dehydration issue. While I'd found animal tracks throughout the day and generally followed them short distances, I hadn't found anything easy enough to follow to lead me all the way to a stream. And I certainly didn't hear water anywhere.
The ground was quite dry, too. I began trying to dig my fingers in. Dirt crusted under my fingernails, but wasn't damp enough for me to easily dig into. If there was water buried deep, I'd need a tool to dig down.
I skimmed the nearby plants. Most of them were nondescript, dry, and not the type that would retain water.
Except the poisonous ones. A lot of them were beautiful, standing out amidst all the green.
My eyes settled on a stout, thorny bush a short distance away. I wondered if it was native to the Arena. I hadn't seen plants like it when I very first entered the forest, but since then, I'd spotted them from time to time. I always noted it instantly when there was one nearby, because it was so unusual looking and eye-catching. It contained the blooms I'd found beautiful earlier, large (bigger than my hand) and vibrantly-colored. I didn't know what the plant was, exactly, but it looked a lot like one of the poisonous ones that I did recognize. I'd steered clear because of that.
Sitting on the ground, though, and staring at it from this angle, something seemed slightly off.
I squinted. It was the shape; there was an odd shape below each gigantic flower, amidst the thick leaves and thorns of the bush. An odd round shape.
I stood up, tentatively walking closer, as close as I dared to the plant. I squatted down, examining the bush and the blooms without touching them. The thorns on the bush could be poisonous too, for all I knew.
Underneath each and every flower, below the bloom, appeared to be a round, bulbous shape, a little bigger than my fist. It hadn't been visible when I was standing, due to the squatness of the plant and giant flowers, but from this angle, or while sitting down, it made the flowers look almost misshapen. I couldn't exactly tell what it was; a fruit? Seed pod? Tuber?
I didn't really know the first thing about flowers in general, outside of what I'd learned during training, or the few I recognized back home as being useful in first aid recipes.
But this was strange-looking, and it made me wonder if it was a Capitol-engineered creation. I'd certainly never seen a flower like it. The shape and colors weren't quite natural. The bulbous objects looked odd and out of place. I wasn't sure anything could grow in this fashion normally.
If it was a creation of the Capitol, that meant one of two things: either it was some sort of deadly or dangerous trap, or it was a resource.
My pessimism assumed the first.
The pod-like object could hold some sort of gas, or poisonous acid, or other defense mechanism of the plant that would cause me serious harm if I tried to crack it open.
However, that wasn't the only possibility. It could contain delicious fruit, or nectar.
Or water.
I knew some plants held water in them that was drinkable. This didn't look like the typical plant that would hold drinking water, in fact it looked poisonous, but maybe that was intended, to throw tributes off. I refused to believe that—if my assumption about it being some sort of Capitol invention was correct—there was no purpose for it. Since when did the Gamemakers put things in the Arena just because they were pretty? Usually, they were also deadly or useful.
I sat there for a couple of minutes, weighing my options. This would be a lot easier if I had gloves or something, so that I didn't have to touch the plant.
I scanned it again with my eyes, determining if there was anything I was missing. From what I could see, a couple of the blooms had tiny insects crawling in them, but that didn't necessarily tell me that the plant wasn't poisonous to humans.
I licked my lips, the discomfort hitting me again, the burning of my throat and my growing dehydration even more obvious. I really needed water, but even touching one of these bulbous things (let alone cracking it open) was a big risk. Was I at the point where I wanted to take that risk yet? Risk my life?
Part of me felt like I had to. If I went all night without water, I could be in pretty rough shape tomorrow. I might run into major issues if a tribute found me and I was too weak to run or climb.
I'd look like a complete moron if I died of dehydration because I was scared to touch a plant I'd never seen.
I glanced down at myself. How could I do this without touching the plant? My shirt's fabric was porous enough I wasn't sure it would offer that much protection if the bulb or its contents were poisonous to the touch.
I sighed heavily. There had to be a way to minimize the risk of seeing what was inside. I glanced around, until my eyes fell on the sturdy stick that I'd been using to navigate the dense forest. That could work.
First, I pushed aside some of the thornier parts of the plant with the stick, then poked the strange bulbous object experimentally while it was still attached.
I felt like an idiot when nothing happened. What was I expecting? An exploding plant?
Actually, that was something the Gamemakers would do.
I chewed my lip in contemplation for a moment, before deciding the easiest way to do this would be to grab two other branches, a bit shorter, but sturdy. I could then use the two sticks as tongs, or tweezers, to hopefully remove the bulbous attachment from the plant without touching it.
It took a few minutes to find the branches that I thought would do the trick. Luckily, there was no lack of options around me. The ones I selected were long enough that I wouldn't have to reach in close and risk tearing my skin on the thorns, but hopefully would still allow me to grip the small object between them without dropping it.
For a moment, I worked on again pushing aside some more of the thornier parts of the plant, trying to ensure I had easier access to…well, whatever it was.
Then, I positioned my hands and sticks so that there was a stick pressed against each side of the odd bulb. I had expected the texture of the thing to be softer, or to give a bit. Almost like the skin of a fruit.
To my surprise, it was hard instead. Almost brittle. Like a shell. Despite myself, I felt a tiny bit of optimism.
I took a moment to position the ends of the sticks where I thought it would be easiest to pull, in order to remove the roundish pod from the plant. Then, applying pressure to grip it between the sticks as much as possible, I tugged. Then again, a bit harder. To my pleasant surprise, on the third tug, it detached evenly from the plant.
As if it were intended to be removed.
Still pushing the thick sticks against it so the pressure could hold the object in place, I stepped back, extricating it as delicately as possible. Then I narrowed my eyes, examining it. The outer skin was smooth and nondescript, a pale green color. It didn't look like there was any sort poisonous coating on the outside, though looks could be deceiving. My cursory examination told me nothing about the contents.
However, removing it from the rest of the plant hadn't caused anything drastic to happen, at least. Other than me looking ridiculous, standing here, a stick in each hand with this strangely-shaped plant thing in between them.
How to get it open, then? I didn't have a knife or any sharp object. I didn't want to just throw it recklessly on the ground.
I gently set it down on the ground in front of me, and stepped back, still observing as if it could come live and hurt me at any moment.
I poked it with my stick again. Nothing. Next, I put my boot on it to keep it in place (assuming the very thick soles would protect me from any poison on the outside), and tried to position the stick in a way that it would bore a hole. Unfortunately, the stick was too dull to cut through the outer shell.
I didn't have the time to hone the stick down into something sharp, though. The light would be horribly dim by then, and I didn't even have tools to make the process easy. The thought of what might be inside was making my parched mouth even more evident. I had gotten this far; I needed to see what this thing was.
I finally just decided to put one boot on it, and pressure it until it cracked open. There was some risk, but this was the Hunger Games, and I didn't see a risk-free way.
I put one sturdy boot on it, in the spot that I thought would best help it crack open evenly, and leaned on that leg. I increased the pressure, bit by bit, tense as I could be, pulling up my shirt to protect my face just in case something nefarious came out that I shouldn't inhale. I was ready to leap back at a moment's notice.
How am I so pathetically cautious about a damn plant, I thought. This is what the Games had already made me into. A girl frightened of seemingly innocuous items.
Once I was putting quite a bit of force on it, I heard a crack, and the small green object split open.
I stepped back immediately, peering at it curiously. It was hollow inside, as expected. It hadn't cracked evenly, and part of it had collapsed on itself. I grabbed the same two sticks, using the ends to pry it open further, so I could see the contents fully.
Liquid glinted within. A lot of it seeped into the dirt of the forest floor, but a little bit was still puddled in the bottom. The object itself wasn't overly big, and could probably only hold about a few mouthfuls of liquid, but still…
The liquid was clear. My optimism increased. With it, my fear that this was a dangerous trap began to fade.
Tentatively I crouched down again. I reached out, just barely touching the liquid with a fingertip, minimizing the contact as much as possible in case it would harm me.
No stinging, no burning, nothing.
Cautiously, I then used that same fingertip to touch the outside of the shell. No problems there. It wasn't poisonous to the touch.
I put my hands on either side of the bulbous object so I could lift it off the ground.
I pulled it towards my face, examining the contents more closely, as much as I could in the slowly fading light. It appeared to be exactly what it looked like: a mostly empty bulb-shaped shell, hollow inside, with just a bit of clear liquid remaining, the rest having dribbled onto the ground.
My heartbeat racing again, and my entire body tense, I raised it to my face. It was now or never. I wasn't sure how else to test this.
Slowly—impressively slowly, given how damn thirsty I was—I touched my tongue to the liquid, then when nothing happened, took a sip, holding it in my mouth for a second.
Then I smiled.
Water.
Of course, I couldn't guarantee it was completely fresh, or without bacteria; but judging by the lack of other water sources, the subtleness of this one, and the fact that water found within plants was usually safe to drink, I felt pretty confident about my odds. I quickly drained the mouthful or two that was left within the shell.
Still, I waited about twenty minutes, shifting from foot to foot and craving water even more now, before deciding to move again. I wanted to make sure my stomach wasn't going to have an immediately adverse reaction. It was almost tortuous waiting like this, but after a while, my body seemed not to be having any issues processing the small amount of water. So it had to be safe, right?
It would appear that I'd found my water source. I'd seen more and more of these plants around as I'd gotten deeper into the forest, so although it would be time consuming to actually drink them, I'd be able to find more.
I grabbed the sticks again, determined to avoid the thorns and pull each and every source of water off of this plant; I saw at least seven or eight more bulb-like objects beneath massive flowers, and if I was cautious enough cracking them open, hopefully I could get more than a mouthful from each.
…
When I had just about finished drinking the life-saving plant dry, I heard the boom of a cannon. Once again, the abrupt sound reverberated through the air, startling the birds in the area, and I heard frantic scurrying in the undergrowth as animals tried to escape the perception of danger.
I jolted, almost dropping the small green pod I was currently drinking from (I still hadn't decided what to even call it, but I had definitely decided its design had been tampered with by the Capitol). I glanced up at the sky, worriedly, looking around for an aircraft. I listened as intently as I could for any sign of a nearby tribute.
Nothing. But, like earlier, I waited. Just to make sure.
After a couple of minutes, I decided it was time to get going. I didn't have long before dusk, it was getting harder and harder to see, and I needed to find somewhere that could potentially serve as a shelter. Walking at night in this forest was a terrible idea, given how hard it was to traverse, and the fact that the canopy would make progress nearly impossible. It would be stupid, and I didn't have a light source. Not that I'd want to draw attention to myself by using one anyway.
It would be safer to just find somewhere to sleep.
Eleven dead now, I thought, as I set off again.
…
Shortly before dusk, I found a tree with a wide, gnarled trunk, and a small gap between two roots forming a small, natural alcove. The alcove wasn't big enough to allow me to duck under the tree and be protected fully overhead, but it would block me from sight and protect my sides if I nestled in. I didn't think anyone would find me unless they basically stepped on me, especially with all the bushes nearby.
It wasn't chilly out, even with the sun going down—in fact now, it was almost bearable—and I was thankful for that tiny mercy.
I didn't really have the time to make a full shelter, and the air was mild enough I didn't think I'd need one unless it started raining. However, for all I knew, temperatures would drop some overnight. So, I took the time to fill the ground of the small alcove where I'd be sleeping with as many leaves and similar debris as I could, remembering from training that this would help prevent the ground from leeching at my body heat during the night. There was an abundance around me, so it was a fairly quick process. I piled extra leaves at the back and sides of the gap between the roots, hoping this would allow me to be a little more insulated.
By the time I finished, it was completely dark. I was glad I'd stopped when I did. It was a pretty early hour to tuck in for the night, but I didn't see any other options. I doubt I'd be sleeping well, either way, and I'd want an extremely early start tomorrow.
I tried my best to get comfortable in the spot I'd be sleeping tonight, knowing the anthem would be blaring at any minute—it always started soon after night fully fell. The nerves had never really gone away today (how could they, when I was in here?), but they were worse again now, thinking of seeing pictures projected against the sky.
My mouth was no longer as painfully parched. Even after drinking every little green pod dry, though, my thirst still wasn't satiated. I had seen another of the same water-bearing plants, but I hadn't taken the time to stop again because I knew I needed to find a place to shelter for a night before it was too late. I would make sure to stop and drink every time I saw the signature flowers tomorrow.
Unfortunately, my hunger had increased throughout the late afternoon and evening. The breakfast and berries had staved off some of it, but I was burning a lot of calories with all the walking and sweating. I would need to find a better food source tomorrow. Digging in my pant pockets, I pulled out and finished off most of the rest of the berries, leaving maybe a handful for tomorrow just in case. I even licked my fingers clean, knowing that somewhere, Minodora was watching in horror.
Sighing heavily, I resolved to find a tree to climb tomorrow that would help me get the lay of the land. Surely, I could fine one with a decent vantage point, somewhere, that was safely climbable.
As I sat on my little pile of debris and nestled back against the tree, I found myself thinking that hopefully, there wouldn't be large animals on the prowl tonight.
Or Careers.
Normally, the Careers hunted the first night of the Games. At least, they had almost every year I'd watched. The thought had been in the back of my mind all day. I'd frequently found myself considering the possibility that they'd be hunting, with indeterminate conclusions.
This year, everything was different. For one, some the Careers may not have even been in the bloodbath. I wandered how many were wandering around the woods like me…and Tatiana. For another matter, I was technically supposedly part of the Career alliance…or, an alliance with some of the Careers.
I ran through my mind, thinking of the Careers that were presumably not in our little alliance. Ruby and Onyx from District 1, Tatiana and Cassia from District 2, and the dark-haired boy from 4…Marlin, I thought his name was. And the couple of non-Career partners. So, there were still plenty of people out there that I had to watch out for.
Hell, if I were being honest with myself, I didn't even trust my own alliance outside of Ben and (in a disgustingly twisted way) Cato, the latter only while the rule was in place. He'd help me stay alive to save his own skin. The absurdity of the whole situation was not lost on me.
Abruptly, the sky lit up with the Capitol seal and the obnoxious anthem began booming across the Arena, the noise startling me and breaking me out of my thoughts (I was really jumpy now, I discovered).
It was time for the death recap.
I felt queasy. It was one thing to accept that eleven tributes had died today. It was another entirely to see their faces and districts.
What if Ben's on there? Or Autumn? Or Rudd?
The seal of the Capitol was floating in the air, high above through the branches of trees above me, mocking me. The bright lights and cheery music contrasted starkly with the present situation I found myself in.
I began twisting my ring around my finger, hoping it would bring me comfort. I really did not want to see this, but I knew I had to. I had to try to keep track of who was alive, as much as possible. All I'd know from the recap was the face and district of each tribute that had died, but it was enough to get a general idea of how the odds were evolving. I knew we'd be taken to the next Arena once only twenty-four tributes were left alive. We were almost halfway there already, even though it had been less than twenty-four hours.
After the anthem ended, the sky was momentarily dark, and I felt myself holding my breath.
Then the first face appeared on screen, and my stomach dropped.
It was beautiful Ruby, from District 1. Rory's partner.
I stared at her lovely face in disbelief. I couldn't comprehend her death. For one, she was a Career, and they rarely died in the bloodbath or on the first day. For another…that meant Rory had been penalized. How, I didn't know. But wherever he was, he had immediately suffered the consequences when she was killed. Or maybe he'd already been killed too. Maybe that's why she'd died, from whatever penalty the Gamemakers imposed on her. The thought made me feel even worse.
I shouldn't be hoping he was safe, and unharmed…but I was. I couldn't imagine how I would have felt, knowing Rory died. My stomach was in knots as I stared up at the sky.
Her face had disappeared, and was replaced by the young boy from District 3. As I expected, none of the other Careers from 1 or 2 had been killed. I already knew Cato was safe, but this meant the others from his district were, too. Still, looking at the boy from 3, and accepting the fact that he was dead, was hard. He was painfully young, probably not older than thirteen or fourteen. I had to look away from his doe-eyed, innocent expression until his picture faded.
Next was Mariana, the girl from District 4 who was the only one Reaped from her district. Normally it would be a surprise to see someone from 4 die in the bloodbath, but I knew she hadn't been trained for this like the others. I wondered who had killed her, then brushed the thought away. I couldn't think about it. I couldn't.
The next face to appear was a young girl from District 5, followed by the older male tribute from the same District. Half of District 5, gone like that. I remembered the "older" boy from 5 was still only around Autumn's age; just a couple of years past Reaping age, yet brought in as part of the Quell. I didn't even know his name. Maybe it was better that way.
Then came the young female tribute from District 6, followed by the older woman from District 6. Another District with half its tributes gone. Another District with names of tributes I didn't know. I was pretty sure the young girl from 6 had cried at her Reaping…wasn't she paired with the young boy from 3 that had also been on the death recap? The pairing had stood out due to both of them seeming young, and fragile. Had one of their deaths directly caused the other? The thought was disturbing, and lent credence to the theory that the "penalty" imposed by the Gamemakers was severe and unforgiving.
The next face made my breath catch in my throat. I raised a hand to my mouth involuntarily.
It was Rudd.
I stared at his picture, not entirely expecting the grief clutching at my insides. I knew that there could potentially be a camera on me right now, and I shouldn't react strongly. Hell, I hadn't known Rudd well. We'd barely spoken. He had never been friendly, or outgoing, and even in the picture displayed in the night sky he looked uninterested and unfocused. His eyes stared blearily out at the word, looking resigned.
But he was still from home. And the thought of someone from my district dying caused a pang of sadness that I wasn't entirely able to squash.
In the back of my mind, there was relief too. Because this meant both Ben and Autumn were still alive. Now they knew that I was still alive, too. I really hoped I'd be able to find Ben soon. Nothing could make me relax while in the Arena, but he was the only person I could tolerate right now.
It was funny to think how much my opinion of him had changed from only viewing him as a threat, to tentatively trusting him and wanting him to be safe, after a week. A week of hell; a hell that was only getting worse.
Despite the relief that Ben was alive, though, the sadness lingered, causing an unusual tightness in my chest. I tried to keep myself composed; this was inevitable, after all.
Still, I had to grit my teeth and push past the tightness in my chest as Rudd's face faded from view forever, and the last few faces of the dead tributes from today were depicted against the black sky.
The older female tribute from District 9. I had never spoken with her, as far as I remembered.
The young boy from District 10—I remembered he was only twelve. The tightness in my chest intensified. It was mixed with anger now. These were children being murdered. For a sick source of entertainment, and it was disgusting.
I was counting faces as the recap progressed. That was ten dead, meaning there was only one left to show.
And, finally—I held my breath—the last face to appear was the younger female tribute from District 11. I immediately felt a rush of relief.
So, Rory Hawthorne was still alive. Despite the fact that he'd lost his partner, he was still out there. I shouldn't be worried for someone from another district, but I couldn't help it. What was he going through right now, alone, and suffering from whatever the Gamemakers had inflicted on him?
No, I couldn't think about that now. As much as my empathy wanted to take me down that road, I couldn't. I had to worry about myself. It had been less than a day, and I'd almost run face-first into someone that would've killed me without a second thought. I had to spend my time focusing on my own survival.
11 tributes had died today. Nearly a fourth of the total. Although, now that I thought about it, proportionately to the number of tributes, that was somewhat low. I was pretty sure last year almost half had died within the first twenty-four hours. The Gamemakers only sending half of the tributes into the bloodbath this year likely made the death count lower than it would've been otherwise.
This made me suspect that they had a lot of other horrors planned, and other creative ways for tributes to die. Either that, or they wanted to drag out the Arena as much as possible for the Quell. They had something nefarious in mind, I was sure of it. Why else try to limit the amount of blood spilled the first day?
Then again, since tributes were penalized for their partner dying, the fact that 11 had died today probably didn't mean much. The surviving partners were significantly more at risk now, I presumed. Those partners may die soon, increasing the total quickly. The Gamemakers would get what they wanted one way or another.
With these thoughts swirling in my mind, I nestled as far back into the crook of the tree trunk as I could. I closed my eyes, knowing at some point, I'd have to sleep. I'd probably sleep poorly, and be woken at the first hint of a lightening sky. Or cannons during the night.
But, as I sat there, trying my best to fall asleep and knowing it would take forever due to the fact that I was legitimately in the Arena fighting for my life now, I kept seeing Rudd's baleful expression every time I closed my eyes. I remembered that I had just eaten dinner with him the night before. Even if he were reticent and unfriendly, he was still someone who had been forced into this like I had. This was true for most of the tributes—but it was different accepting his death, since he was from 7.
I found myself wondering if he had a family back home. Who would be grieving for him? I didn't think he was married, and he'd never mentioned kids, but surely, he had people who would miss him.
I clutched at the leaves beneath me, as if they could help me fight the difficult emotions off. This was only going to get harder. I had to be strong. Unaffected. I couldn't let the Capitol see any weakness. I couldn't let the deaths from the first day worm under my skin like this. Otherwise, how would I cope with—
I stopped the train of thought right there.
The rest of the night involved my brain battling against the dark thoughts of the dead tributes, and the constant worry about what I would run into tomorrow. Eventually, I fell into an uneasy and light sleep, after finally realizing that I had crossed the very first milestone of the Games.
I had survived the first day.
…
A/N: I was getting nervous at times writing this, just because of the intensity of the situation…
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SEVERAL REVIEWS ON THE LAST CHAPTER. Also the follows, favorites, and kudos (for those on A03).
So, what do you think about the interesting start to the Games? That was one of the first things I planned about this story. I've read one other story where the Games involved partners who started in different places (one of the recommendations I included in the prologue). I loved the base concept, though for anyone who has read that story, I took mine in a vastly different direction.
For those who love bloodbath scenes, though…well there are more Arenas to go, if June survives ;)
Note: the hovercraft scene was based on the book version. In the books they get their own hovercraft and I preferred this to the movie version, especially since a lot of tributes were starting in different parts of the Arena.
Finally, re. Arena size. The books never tell us how big they actually are. It's known that the 74th arena is LOT bigger than the Quell Arena, which was quite small. I wanted to make my Arena smaller than the 74th, but due to the fact that there are 48 tributes instead of 24, it didn't make sense to have it be the same size as the Arena from Catching Fire. Especially since it's not the same clock-styled, domed Arena. So, in short, this Arena is somewhere in between the sizes of the two from the books, but a bit closer to the Quell Arena size than the 74th Arena.
Next chapter is already written in full, just gotta do some editing!