Hi people!! This chapter might not be as good as the first one, but I did it in a bit of a rush. Anyway, I'll make up for it later. Hope you like it!!
Disclaimer:I do not own the Hunger Games. I am merely an average writer borrowing the amazing world that Suzanne Collins created.
The fire is descending on me in a wall twenty metres high. The Gamemakers must have decided it's getting boring. I try to think clearly as I sprint away from the fire. I have to get to water. The only water sources I've seen are the lake and the little pool that I filled my waterskin from. The lake's probably closer but is sure to be heavily populated with Careers. I decide to take a risk and head back towards the pool. It's lucky I inherited my mother's sense of direction. I reach the pool in either a very long or very short time, I'm not sure which because I'm running for my life from a massive firestorm. We have fires occasionally in the orchards at home, but nothing like this. I wade up to my waist into the pool, about a metre and a half from the nearest edge. I hope it's enough.
Ssssss!!! I leap out of the way as a ball of fire splashes into the pool just next to me. I look up, and the sky is filled with fireballs. I have to get out of the pool; I can't dodge them quickly enough in the water. I've only gone half a step when another rains down, this one passing over my left forearm before splashing. The pain is horrible, but is wiped from my mind as more fireballs shoot at me. There's no time to think, I just move when my reflexes tell me too. Three, four, five, six more I dodge before the fire stops. Not gradually, just like that. I splash back into the pool, rolling up the sleeve of my jacket to look at the burn on my arm. The skin is red and throbbing, but it's not too bad. It's lucky the rest of my jacket didn't catch fire as well. The sleeve has a small hole in it, and most of the left sleeve is black, but it hasn't been damaged a lot. I ease my arm into the pool, almost sighing with relief when the cool blanket of water envelopes my arm. My mind wanders back to my fellow tributes. How did they fare in the fire? I haven't heard a cannon, so they all must have survived. I know I should have hoped that some of them died, but I can't seem to bring myself to accept that, whether I survive or not, twenty-three children must die.
This flicker of sentimentality is snuffed out, however, by the sound of approaching footsteps. By the sound of it, the tribute hasn't fared too well in the fire; it sounds like they are limping and possibly are having trouble breathing. Nevertheless, I jump out of the pool and rush up a tree. From the branches I can vaguely see, through the smoke that still hasn't cleared, the outline of a girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen. I was right, she is limping, and after soaking both her hands and her right leg in the pool, she falls unconscious. I squint through the leaves and the smoke, and make a startling realization: it's Katniss.
I stay in the tree, taking small, slow sips of water and glancing down at Katniss, for I don't know how long. What I do know, however, is soon I hear the clumpy, heavy pairs of feet again. The Careers. This time, however, I don't freak out. I'm almost certain that I'm up high enough and that I can be quiet enough that they won't notice me. Katniss, however, is another matter. She only just makes it up a tree before the Careers break into the clearing. She's very exposed–her tree doesn't have much leaf cover on the lower branches. The Careers can see her very clearly, but I realise that she's so high and they're so heavy that any of the branches a good two metres below the one that Katniss is on would crack under the weight of the lightest Career. Katniss seems to realise this as well, and plays it to her advantage.
"How's things with you?" She is talking politely, but there is a distinct edge of mockery in her voice. She's playing with them. The biggest boy, I think from district 2, answers her. "Well enough. Yourself?" Katniss gives just a shadow of a smile before responding. "It's been a bit warm for my taste." Ah. She's playing cocky for the sponsors. I think that if I was a sponsor, I would probably sponsor her solely on the basis of that remark. "Why don't you come on up?" There's another one. The boy from district 2, however, doesn't seem amused. "Think I will." Someone offers him a bow and arrows, and I see Katniss's eyes flare up. I know she wanted that bow. The way she avoided archery in training, the shine in her eyes when she saw the bow at the Cornucopia. However, the boy from 2 turns down the bow, saying, "I'll do better with my sword." Hmm. That's probably true. It's a vicious-looking thing, short but sharp. He only gets about two metres up when the branch breaks. He plummets to the earth, but is unharmed and gets up, raving furiously. Glimmer, the girl from 1, also tries, but stops when the branches start creaking under her weight. She tries to shoot Katniss, but only one arrow comes close to Katniss, and she waves it tauntingly over Glimmers head. Finally, the Careers decide to stop and wait till morning. It's starting to get dark anyway. They make camp under Katniss's tree. I'm just settling down into my tree when something in Katniss's tree catches my eye. It's about three metres up from Katniss; a round, golden structure. Tracker jackers.
I know that I should just leave. Some of the others might get stung, and most people die after four or five stings. However, I don't want to let Katniss die like that. I know that it's risky, but I can't let Katniss die like that. I wait until she catches my eye, and I point above her head towards the nest.