If Runar was going to die, this Arena was absolutely the place for it. He had never seen this many trees in one place. Their branches reached up to the heavens, enveloped with light from the sun shining above, in turn casting fiery shadows on the tributes below.
Runar couldn't help but gravitate towards a particularly pretty tree with bright orange leaves that extended so far into the sky that Runar couldn't see where they ended with his naked eye.
Runar didn't know how anyone in Seven got anything done. If he lived there, he'd just spend all day sitting under the trees. But he didn't have that luxury, not here, not now.
If he could just survive, Runar could spend as long as he wanted looking at trees.
Runar tried to shift his focus from the foliage around him to the plan formulating in his mind. He and his allies had planned to meet up to the east of the Cornucopia after the Bloodbath. Given that none of them had spent time together during training, the hope was that the larger alliances would target each other, allowing the Fives to slide under the radar. But none of his allies were anywhere near him – well, nobody was anywhere near him. Without other people, some of whom had supplies that he was counting on having, Runar needed a new plan – and fast.
But for once, he was having trouble thinking. His brain, usually so good at coming up with solutions for problems, was at a loss for anything remotely resembling an idea.
All he could focus on were the eyes behind those sunglasses.
It couldn't possibly be his father. Runar had expected to find answers in the Capitol about who he was and where he'd been, not the man himself. He tried to think of any other possible explanation. Surely the eyes belonged to someone else's in his family? His uncle? A cousin? But if that was true, it certainly left more questions. Why did he have family in the Capitol? How were they involved in the Games? And why did they seem to be trailing him? If they were, why didn't they just come out and say it, rather than remain in the shadows?
What had Runar gotten himself into?
As an attempt to tame the mass of thoughts swirling around in his mind, Runar turned his attention back to the trees and their calming aura. He couldn't help but think that it would be easier to be a tree. Trees didn't have to worry about surviving the Hunger Games or finding their fathers; all they had to do was wave their branches around, drop their leaves in the winter, and regrow them in the summer.
Their leaves…
Through the fiery haze of branches, Runar caught sight of a small glimmer of gold. It immediately set his mind whirring, thinking back to everything he'd seen since he launched. As his plate had clicked into place however many hours ago, Runar had noticed that all of the trees around him had red and orange leaves. His science textbooks, however, had insisted that leaves could turn red, orange, or yellow, and most of the trees in Five turned yellow in the fall. Runar had assumed that the difference had to do with what species of tree were planted where. But something in him insisted that there had to be something special about that single golden tree.
Determined to get to the bottom of it, Runar traipsed through the forest, keeping his eye squarely on those yellow leaves. He eventually emerged in a small clearing, the tree with yellow leaves growing precisely in the center. The fact that nobody was there, that there was no launch plate in the clearing, and that the clearing was such a perfect circle all made Runar nervous. But the deliberate design of the area indicated that there was definitely a mystery to uncover here.
And Runar just had to figure out what it was.
Runar pulled a knife out of his bag and circled the clearing, fully expecting something to jump out at him, though nothing did. After he'd circled enough to feel a hair safer in the clearing, he crept up to the tree. At first glance, it just looked like any other tree. But as Runar investigated more closely, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was man-made. It was a perfect height, not too tall and not too short. The trunk was a perfect size, not too big and not too small. And the lines on the bark were too uniform, and when they deviated from the pattern, they deviated too perfectly. It was too perfect to have grown naturally. The question was, why put it here?
As he circled the tree up close, something caught Runar's eye: a perfect circle etched into the bark. He traced the circle with his thumb, noticing that it had a different texture than the rest of the tree. As he dragged his finger around, he realized that the circle had a bit of a give to it, as if he was putting slight pressure on a button. Runar considered for a moment, but curiosity soon overtook him; if there was a button there, he had to know what it did.
He was about to press it when he realized that, if the tree exploded or something, it was probably a bad idea to get too close.
Runar took his knife and placed the point in the center of the circle, then stepped back as far as he could while still maintaining contact with the button. He shielded his eyes, then leaned in a little bit, just enough to hear a soft click come from within the tree. When he looked up, he noticed a canister emerging from the tree, surrounded by a puff of smoke and somehow illuminated from behind. Runar crept back up to the tree and gingerly took the canister to examine it. Most of it was clear, though it had a golden lid on top and a golden cap on the bottom. Inside of its clear body was a dagger that looked to be carved out of gold, somehow illuminated by invisible lights. As Runar turned the canister in his hands, trying to figure out what to do with it, words magically appeared on the surface of the capsule.
TOUCH THE GLASS TO SCROLL THROUGH THIS MESSAGE
Congratulations! You have found the Golden Dagger. Today, you have the opportunity to guarantee your survival in these Games and to be airlifted, in safety, from the Arena. But it will not be easy to do so; we have selected a task specifically for you that you must complete in order to earn it. As the Games progress and as more golden daggers are found, the task that you must complete to survive will get harder, though it will still be tailored to you.
As such, at any point before you begin the task, you may choose to reject it. If you do so, you will be granted a supply package as a reward for finding the Golden Dagger. Once you accept it, however, you must complete it to earn your life; if you fail to do so, you will die. However, in that case, you will lose the opportunity to accept another task should you find another Golden Dagger in the future. This is your one and only shot at survival.
If you would like to see the task we have selected for you, please place your fingerprint on the sensor on the lid. If you would like to reject this opportunity, please return the canister to the tree in which you found it.
Runar carefully scrolled through the text in front of him. Surely this was too good to be true. A way to earn his survival by doing a task designed for him without even having to kill? It felt like a trap. But as he reread the message, he noticed that there was no penalty for looking at the task. And he was curious what task the Gamemakers had picked for him.
RUNAR THERON – TASK 1
Outrun the birds. Your time will begin when you start to run, but you must start within the next two hours.
If you would like to accept the task, please place this canister in the clear plastic pocket on the outside of your backpack. If you would like to reject the task, please return the canister to the tree in which you found it.
Runar tried to scroll through the message, but nothing else appeared on the screen. Was that really it? All he had to do to get his life back, to have another chance to find his dad, was… run? Runar had been running for fun for years. It was his favorite thing to do back home, a way to clear his mind and to get some energy out. This really did seem too good to be true.
Maybe that's what the Gamemakers were hoping for.
Runar sat on the ground and leaned against the tree. He needed to take a moment to weigh his options. If this was legit, this was the best task he could have asked for; Runar knew he was fast enough to outrun most kids at school, so he hoped he'd be fast enough to outrun the birds as well. Granted, birds were fast, but if the Gamemakers wanted it to be a doable challenge, he felt pretty sure that they'd slow down the birds to a fair speed. But on the other hand, if this was a trap, there were so many easy ways that they could trip Runar up, even with such a simple challenge.
As he tried to think about what to do, Runar's mind wandered back to his father – uncle – whoever had those eerily similar eyes. Given that he seemed omnipresent, the man was probably heavily involved with the Games process; either he had influence on the Gamemakers or the Gamemakers had given that man some sort of assignment. Either way, Runar's destiny must already be determined, whether he accepted the task or not.
Oh.
With that newfound realization, Runar reevaluated his circumstances. If he was destined to die, then it didn't matter if he took the task or if he didn't; the Gamemakers would find a way to kill him anyway. But in the slight chance that he was destined to live, and this task was the way to make it happen, he'd look really foolish if he gave up that chance. And if the task was a trap, but he managed to evade it, then maybe there was a small chance that he could outsmart the Gamemakers and force them to hold true to their word.
Accepting the task was a risk, a big one. But the potential reward was enormous. This might be the only chance he had to get out of the Games with his life. He could not give that up.
Runar stood up, stood as tall as he could, and placed the canister into the clear plastic pocket of his backpack.
A small bird suddenly flew out of one of the trees and levitated in front of Runar's face. It stayed there for a few seconds, then slowly flew off into the distance. Runar took that as an indication to follow the bird, which led him through the trees to another clearing with another gold-leafed tree. The bird then flew around Runar a couple of times, then stopped, looking towards a path in the forest that seemed fairly clear, especially compared to the rest of the hiking Runar had to do through the forest. The bird flitted in front of Runar's face, then took off down the path, clearly indicating the way Runar was supposed to go.
Runar thought for a moment, then placed his bag next to the tree. It would only make it harder for him to run with it on, and whether he lived or died, he wouldn't need it anymore. He took a moment to stretch his legs out, jogging in place to get as loose and limber as he could. It's just another race, Runar, he insisted to himself. Just another race. You can do this.
You can do this.
Runar readied himself in his racing stance. He leaned back, pushed off the ground, and ran.
Runar ran through the deciduous forest. The trees blended together into a sea of reds and oranges, flashing by on the edges of his vision like the bright lights on the cars that raced through the Capitol's streets at night. Branches appeared and almost instantly swept into his path; Runar was barely able to dodge out of their way as they continually ambushed him. But with every twig that crunched under his feet, every leaf that fell as he breezed through the branches, he became more and more determined. He hoped he would live to see another fall.
Runar kept running.
He passed through into a winter landscape. Snow crunched under his feet as the drop in temperature sent shivers down his spine. Cold winds whipped Runar's hair, sometimes with enough force that he had to slow down to fight through the gales. He could feel his fingers going numb, could hear the squawks of the birds overhead growing closer and closer. But with every clump of snow that fell off of the branches, nearly hitting him in the face, with every patch of ice that he nearly slipped on, Runar became more and more determined. He wanted to live to see another winter.
Runar kept running.
He passed through into a jungle. The foliage grew thick, and the air grew humid, a sharp contrast to the open, dry atmosphere of the previous area. While the rest of the jungle seemed denser than the path on which Runar ran, there were certainly still enough plants growing that he had to adapt. Runar began to run in more of a zig-zag pattern, trying to go around the leaves that sprouted everywhere rather than just pushing through them. It all just felt so constricting, pressing further and further in on Runar with every moment. He couldn't help but feel like the air was harder to run through; the birds overhead sounded like they were growing even closer. But with every leaf that got in his way, every bead of water that dripped down his face, Runar became more and more determined. He believed he could live to see another summer.
Runar kept running.
He passed through into a pink wonderland. Blossoms dotted every inch of the cherry trees' gnarled branches that twisted and turned on their way up to the sky. A single pink flower would occasionally drift down towards him but he was easily able to blow it aside. For the first time since he started running, Runar confidently picked up his pace. There were no branches sweeping into his vision, no cold air to numb his fingers, no leaves on the forest floor to push through. He could see the reds and oranges of the deciduous forest grow closer and closer, though whether that was the end of the first lap or the end of the task, he didn't know. But Runar was confident enough that he didn't care. He knew would live to see another spring.
Until Runar tripped.
He didn't even know what happened. One minute, he was running, and the next, he was on the ground on his back. It didn't even feel like he caught his foot on anything, but his mind might have just blocked out the moments between when he tripped and when he landed on the ground. He tried to scramble to his feet, but a sharp pain suddenly ran through his left leg as soon as he put weight on it. Desperately, he began to army crawl, determined to do something, anything to keep himself alive. But the birds only grew closer and closer, beginning to circle overhead like vultures. Runar racked his brains for any way he could get out of it, any chance he had to save himself, but he couldn't think of anything.
He'd come so close. And he couldn't even blame his failure on the Gamemakers. If he hadn't let his guard down, had paid a hair more attention to what was on the floor in front of him, he probably could have survived.
Runar crawled a little further, planting himself securely under one of the cherry trees. He gave the trunk a shake, causing a flurry of blossoms to fall. Runar took a deep breath, watching the petals drift calmly down around him. He smiled, then shut his eyes, content with that being the last thing he saw.
He felt a single prick in his neck. He felt his stomach drop as if he was falling. And then, he felt nothing.
42/11. Runar Theron, District Five Standard Male. Failed the Golden Dagger Task.