Emmalie Bluebell- District Nine female
Run like a dog.
That's what people say when they're taunting cowards. It's supposed to be an insult, but the thing about people who say that- they don't have to run. They're the ones with the fat wallets, not the ones pinching them out of pockets and darting away. Maybe I didn't have to do that sort of things. I wasn't really starving. But I wanted to move up in the world just like anyone else. I wanted a piece of what they got just for being born. It didn't even hurt them when I took the piddly amount I took, and they still had the nerve to call me a dog.
When the gong sounded, I ran. I wasn't one of the brave ones, like the girl from Eleven who ran in and tried to pole-vault out with a spear. I also wasn't one of the dead ones, like the girl from Eleven who ran in and tried to pole-vault out with a spear. I kept running until the Cornucopia was far out of sight, even on the flat ground. I didn't stop until I tripped and fell flat, and after that I crawled.
The sun came up the next morning… sort of. The air was wet and shimmery. Mist. Just like the crazy girl, I thought. It left a sheen on the black, crispy grass, and I saw what the Gamemakers were thinking. It was the first water I'd seen since the Games started. They didn't want us all to die of dehydration. That would be boring.
I wandered the flat Arena, leaving crunchy black footprints in my wake. I wished there was a way to cover them, but there was nothing but a few scraggly trees. There was no sound but my footsteps and the occasional cannon, which never failed to startle me even though I was happy to hear them. Kids were going to die no matter what. It wasn't my fault.
Honestly, this is kind of boring. It had been six days since the Bloodbath, and nothing had happened. I was hungry as a bear, but nothing was happening. I hadn't seen anyone since some girl wandered by slobbering and shambling, obviously having gone nuts. It made the hairs on my neck stand up. Not the crazy girl, but the dullness.
Another night fell, and I was glad for it. It wasn't as humid at night. Sometimes the clouds broke and let the moon through so the action would be illuminated. Even the spooky night sky was better than the constant gray sheet all day long. It was the only thing right in the Arena. There weren't even any bugs, leaving the plain utterly silent.
There was nothing right about the noise that came from far across the grass. Really, it was noises. It was one wail, but it was made up of a bunch of little wails- some high and thin, some urgent and sharp, and some so frantic they squeaked. It was an artificial-sounding noise, like a train whistle. Just as I started to pick out which noise was coming from where, I saw the green-yellow pairs of eyes connected to each one, and then the faintly glowing outlines of what was behind the eyes.
It was strange how close the last nine Tributes turned out to be. I saw the first one, a youngish boy, a few minutes after I started running. I couldn't imagine where he'd been hiding, and before long, I passed him by. He only slowed the dogs for a minute. The same went for the girl from Seven, and even the girl from Two. The others must have gone the same way, but I couldn't remember any of it. I only saw the open land before me and felt the ground flying by under me. In the end, I was the only one alive, because I was the only one that ran like a dog.
You know, that's pretty good. I kind of wish I had gone with that.