A/N: Sorry this took like 57854293 years. I sort of explained things in the latest chapter of Shattered. Thanks for sticking around, though, and for being concerned. It means a lot that you've been reaching out to me. Hopefully, I've returned for good.
Here's the second day of our tale! I probably won't be including a point of view of every single tribute every single day, at least not right now. There are just so many tributes. Don't worry, their numbers will thin quickly. I have some devious tricks up my writer-ly sleeves (laughs maniacally). Anyway, please enjoy! :D
Rollag Hermes, 16
District 8 8th Male
Dawson gathers kindling as we travel along the deer path. The path is definitely forged by something other than a deer, but Thred likes to call it a deer path. We've been travelling for less than an hour when we come to a large clearing with a pile of rocks in the center.
"It looks like a big turtle shell," Thred says.
I tilt my head. "It looks like a pile of poop."
Dawson rushes up behind us, arms piled high will small splinters of dry wood. He dumps everything onto the ground and sighs in relief.
"Seriously?" Thred says. "It isn't even noon yet. Why would we need firewood?"
Dawson wipes the sweat off of his forehead. "In case we can't find any later. It's good to be prepared. Think we're a safe distance from the cornucopia yet?"
"I think so," I answer. "Definitely a few miles at the very least. We should all take a drink."
Thred grudgingly hands over his thermos of water and lets Dawson and I take a big sip each. "That hits the spot. Anyone got food?"
Dawson and Thred both shrug. "I could look around," Dawson says. I nod, and he sprints away, quickly disappearing into the forest.
I don't want to lose the poop pile, so I think about leaving a little trail of rocks around it in case we get lost. Then I realize that makes it about a hundred times more likely for the other tributes to pick up on our trail, so I don't bring it up. Without anything to eat, Thred and I just lean against the poop pile and stare at the sky.
"You know, Sparky liked deer."
I blink hard. "What?"
"My brother. I volunteered for him." Thred rests his hands on his stomach and sighs.
"I'm sorry."
He actually laughs. "Well, we're on the same boat now. You and I and Dawson. We're family now."
I think about that for a while. I'm about to say something, but then Dawson bursts into the clearing, arms piled high with black berries.
"Where'd you get those?" Thred asks, incredulous.
"From a bush about half a mile north of here. Now eat up, before they go bad."
I pinch a berry between my fingers and roll it back and forth. Something about a black berry puts me off, but I quick taste tells me they're nothing but harmless blackberries, so I start gobbling up. Thred and Dawson wait about a minute before they start eating, just in case I die on the spot. I do not die on the spot.
If Dawson wanted to, he could have added a tiny bit of poison into these little fruits and killed both of us, but right now I'm too hungry to care.
Nimona Marks, 18
District 5 12th Female
"Are… we… there… yet?" Moxie gasps, groaning as we tread up the steep slope.
"Almost," I say. "You can rest when we get to… the top. All this will pay off."
I can't blame Moxie for being so exhausted, seeing as she's carrying the most weight. But the three of us have our own supplies too, and we're not complaining.
"Seriously, Nimona," Silky pants. "We need… to take… a break."
Sasha nods her head in agreement, and I figure it's useless to keep fighting back. I trek about ten more feet to a large rock and grab hold of it, then lie down on my stomach. Moxie and Silky follow my lead.
"Careful, Sasha," I say. "You need something to hold onto when you stop. As soon as you stop walking, you're going to slip. And it's a long way down."
Sasha nods and grabs onto a thick root, using it to keep her from slipping, then lies down on her front. I carefully pry my fingers away from the rock, and the three other girls follow my example.
"We've come a long way," Silky notes, peering down. "Are you sure there's anything at the top of this hill?"
"No," I admit. "But we'll have the best view from up here. We'll have the high ground."
"I guess that is pretty valuable," Sasha says.
We lie there in silence for at least another half hour. Soon enough, Moxie is snoring. I want to stay here forever too. But we have to keep moving.
"Five more minutes," I say. "Then we move. We're vulnerable down here."
I carefully stand up after much more than five minutes, then start walking upward. Moxie, Silky, and Sasha grudgingly follow. It's less than five more minutes before the ground flattens off. The top of the hill.
Silky laughs will relief. "It's like I haven't felt flat land in a million years. Say, Nimona, have you looked down yet?"
"No," I say. "I guess I was saving it for this moment."
"Well, that moment is right now."
I close my eyes, turn slowly around, and then open them. The view from up here is stunningly beautiful. The forest below is like a thick green carpet stretching out to the arena's circular boundaries. A small clearing, the size of a coin from this height and distance, houses the ant-sized cornucopia. "Told you it'd be worth it," I whisper.
In reality, I'm a little underwhelmed. I was hoping to find some kind of reward up here.
Moxie points to a smoking structure in the distance. "I've been wondering what that smoke has been coming from. It's a lava pool. Definitely worth exploring at some point."
She's right, even though the prospect of trekking all the way down this giant hill any time in the near future is off-putting.
"Why would there be lava in a forest?" Sasha asks.
I shrug. "Because the gamemakers put it there. There's got to be something valuable in that area. Something we can use."
Moxie yawns. "I'd love to find something that we can use. For now, honey, I'm going back to sleep."
"Me too," Silky agrees, slowly collapsing.
"Me three," says Sasha. As they doze off, I sit cross-legged on the grass and look over the arena, lost in thought.
Felix Landers, 18
District 5 4th Male
It's unavoidable that five large tributes moving through a dense forest will make at least some noise. Even so, I'm peeved by how loud and clumsy the others are, especially Sybil and Threada.
It only bothers me because of how much experience I have moving quietly. My family were some of the few citizens who still hunted in District 5, sneaking past the fake security cameras and climbing fences to reach the open desert that separates our district from the swelled ocean.
The land was never luscious, per se, but there was food if you knew how to find it. Moving quietly through brush, rocks, and sand directly translates to moving quietly through a forest. Turn your back to prickly brush. Avoid staying anywhere that doesn't have at least two fast exits.
Our hunt brings us to a sheltered place, the hidden spot tucked between two conjoined hills. It doesn't completely shield us from sight, but it's the best shelter we're getting. The five of us settle down as the sun starts to fall.
"How do you feel about food?" Boltson asks.
"I'd love some," Sybil responds.
Boltson rolls his eyes. "I mean, first, how much do we have, and second, do we need to hunt for some."
"If you're hunting animals, I'm your guy," I say.
Brigitta crosses her legs and hums slightly. "Hunting animals during the first few days isn't a good idea. It's too messy, and then you have to start a fire. Maybe it's better to feed a group of our size off of berries. That is, when our bloodbath supplies run out."
We continue to argue for at least five minutes before Sybil suggests we just sit down and relax for a while. Threada sits down first, then Sybil, then Boltson, then Brigitta. I sit down last, leaning against the hill and lacing my fingers behind my head as a pillow. "You know, this place is pretty…"
"Shhh!" Brigitta hisses. "I hear something."
We immediately fall dead silent. The noise of footsteps over grass is extremely faint, but it's definitely there. Something prickly settles in my gut, and for a moment I'm too terrified to even reach for my hunting knives.
"Please don't kill me! Just leave me alone!" a little girl screams.
The rasping voice of a career boy, I don't know which one, laughs. "How about you set down all of your supplies and then we'll let you go. We'll even give you a little head start."
"How about no!" shouts the little girl, her voice quivering.
The five of us glance back and forth between each other. They're all probably thinking what I'm thinking. If we stay dead silent, we might be able to remain unnoticed. Just maybe.
The small girl's silhouette sprints into view a short distance away, trailed behind by the six-strong career pack, weapons drawn. The girl yelps as one of the careers, who I recognize as Madras due to his willowy silhouette, grabs her by the scruff of her neck like a kitten. She kicks and screams, desperately trying to escape. Before long, she's completely surrounded. The moonlight clearly illuminates her stringy blood as it flies in all directions.
"Who was that?" Madras asks, glaring down at the girl's still form.
"I don't know," a girl, Organza, says, kneeling. "Never mind. It's Ashleen. Look at her red hair."
"You know, I would have liked to give her a little head start," Madras laughs. "It would have been amusing to watch her try and run."
Patternia stares daggers at him. "Yeah, and what if she did escape?"
"We'd find her anyway," Madras says, shrugging. She only had a 2. It isn't like…" Madras suddenly falls dead silent. "I think we've hit the jackpot."
"Run!" Threada screams, and I bolt for my life, weaving back and forth with the careers in hot pursuit. In the moonlight, I can see the other anti-careers sprawling out in all directions. I bump into a body, and I let out a short yelp, thinking it might be a career. But the yelp that comes out of her mouth is Threada's. I don't have time to apologize, or to do anything but keep running.
Adrenaline powers me forward like gas in a peacekeeper jalopy, and my blood runs cold when I hear the first scream. I take a moment to glance over my shoulder. Sybil is completely cornered, trapped between Preston and Patternia without her weapon. It must have been stolen from her.
"Fuck off," Sybil grunts, punching Preston in the mouth with her fist. Preston reels, obviously surprised by her strength, but Patternia doesn't let her fury distract her from her ultimate goal. She throws her knives straight into Sybil's chest, and it's literally less than five seconds before her cannon fires.
How are the others doing? I can barely make out the form of Boltson running twenty feet to my right. I hear Brigitta's grunts vaguely behind my back. As for Threada, I haven't seen her since she screamed for us to run. All I know is she isn't dead. I haven't heard another cannon yet.
"Stop running!" Boltson hisses. "We're making too much noise!"
I careen to a stop, head slamming forehead-first into a tree. Hot blood drips down my forehead. I bite my lip as Brigitta barrels into sight, and the three of us lie down on the earthy ground, watching from a distance as Threada fights for her life against the careers.
"You're… going… to… regret… this," Threada grunts, swinging her sword back and forth. Her first few blows are powerful, even managing to send Organza cringing backward, cursing as blood flies from her chin.
I hardly dare to breathe as Boltson, Brigitta, and I helplessly watch the fight play out. In ten minutes, hardy Threada makes her first lethal strike, swinging her sword into Cosima's chest. Cosima screams and stumbles backward, landing on her bottom and clutching her wound with both hands. Preston glances at her as if debating whether or not to help, then turns back toward Threada. Cosima is clearly beyond saving.
The careers grow even more savage when Cosima's cannon shot fires, sending chills down my spine. Finally, Threada fights her way out of the career group. They curse and chase after her, but soon Threada is gone, having disappeared into the thick of the forest.
"Let's go," Brigitta suggests, a note of fear in her voice. The three of us turn around and run, abandoning Threada to the forest and leaving the careers angrier than ever before.
Looper Wattson, 12
District 5 10th Male
"How are you feeling?" I ask, pulling my knees up to my chest.
"Not very good," Everly says as I run my fingers over the dozens of small scrapes and bruises along my arms. "I've never seen a forest this thick, and dark, and scary."
I nod. "It's okay to be scared. We'll be out of here soon. We just need to hold out until there are twelve tributes left. Then this stage is over. Just like that."
I snap for effect, which doesn't resound well with Everly, who starts crying.
Finally accepting that I can't really calm her down, I wrap my arm around her. "Take a deep breath. There are some tough times ahead. But right now, all that matters is that we're safe and warm right here, right now."
The anthem sounds, and I peer through a gap in the roof of our small branch shelter, glaring tiredly at the three girls that moved on today.
Cosima Shaffer, District 5 1st Female
Ashleen Verbeck, District 5 7th Female
Sybil Occing, District 5 10th Female
Remaining Tributes (24): Preston, Lilith, Felix, Francina, Dawson, Moxie, Thred, Looper, Everly, Electron, Nimona, Boltson, Organza, Madras, Patternia, Lycra, Silky, Cloth, Velvet, Rollag, Brigitta, Sasha, Threada, Crochet
