Twenty-four identical tubes stood in a circle facing one another in the arena. It was like two clocks had merged together and each number was a contestant.

Archer stood about ten feet away from me. I turned in his direction and half-smiled, which he reciprocated, if reluctantly. We hadn't really spoken since we made our agreement, just offered casual commentary on the weather and made self-deprecating jokes every so often to lighten the sombre mood that filled each and every day we stayed in the Capitol.

But now, the time had come. Finally.

"Ladies and Gentleman," Claudius Templesmith's iconic booming voice filled the arena. I remember sitting on my living room floor each year, as his familiar voice always brought a sense of dread, yet familiarity. Now that I was one of the contestants themselves, it sent bursts of adrenaline pulsing through my veins. "Hello and welcome to the 63rd annual Hunger Games here in the Capitol. You've met our contestants, and have picked your favourites. The sponsors have been battling over whom to back, and bets are pouring in, but you can still have your say as the Games progress. This will be a truly heated contest, so let's get down to it.

Contestants will be released from their elevators ten seconds after the canon. If any contestant does not meet this requirement, they will be exterminated. Once these ten seconds are up, contestants are free to join the games. Supplies and weapons will be found at the Cornucopia itself.

Get ready.

And may the odds be ever in your favour."

I scanned the area around me. Backpacks lay about 50 feet from my podium, but I only counted twelve. Of course there were only twelve. It made the games just that much more exciting.

The canon rang out, much like the blood singing in my ears.

Think, think, think. The constant mantra didn't help matters.

Seven seconds left. There was a forest, and a river, and mountains in the east, as far as I could tell.

Right. I would try for a backpack. One would get thrown around in the scuffle. Although that would mean getting caught in the bloodbath…

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

My ears rang and I whipped my head around looking for the podiums that just killed their contestants.

Not Archer. Please let it not be Archer.

Archer was fine, although startled by the sound.

Three down. Twenty to go.

3.

2.

Deep Breath

1...

Run.

I darted out of the podium as quickly as I could and raced to the Cornucopia. So did ten other contestants. I dove to the ground when a Career reached a crossbow and began haphazardly firing, hitting three contestants without a second's hesitation. I crouched onto my haunches and cast a glance around me. The girl from District 3 had caught me in her line of fire and came at me with a machete. My heart jumped into my throat, and I ran. I ran like hell. Another arrow sailed past my skull, and I saw a backpack up ahead. Some contestants were engaged in hand-to-hand combat, blood spattering across the grass like red ash falling from the sky.

Pain crept up my arm as a knife lodged itself into my bicep. I cried out but kept going. I had to keep going. I yanked out the knife and dodged another before grabbing the bag's handle in the crook of my arm and running like hell to the forest.

I didn't stop.

I couldn't.

The mountains seemed like the best option. I could get my feel for the lay of the land and see any incoming contestants. But I wouldn't have the cover of the forest, or the close proximity to water that I would by the creek.

Up ahead I saw a cave and diverted my track toward it. It was worn into rock in the far end of the forest. If I could scale the rock face, I could gain height and get closer to the mountain, but further from the river.

Damn, being a contestant was harder than anyone could have thought possible.

Branches crackled in the forest not too far behind me, and I knew someone was coming. Looking around, I noticed one of the trees near the cave would let me lie on top. My arm was still bleeding, so I ripped my t-shirt with the knife, bandaged the wound, held the non-serrated edge between my teeth and scaled the tree. I threw myself from one branch to another, thankful that I had a fascination with climbing as a kid. There was one big branch left, and there was a gap between it and the top of the rock face. I tried to pull myself on, but my hands were slick with sweat and I began to slip. Struggling to keep my grip, I bean to panic. Panicking was never a good idea, particularly in a life and death situation.

Finally I balanced myself out, lying against the branch and distributing myself across it evenly. Crawling like a caterpillar seemed to be the best bet, and finally I neared the edge. I flipped my legs over the branch, straddling it, and tried to find my balance. Balance was key here. Without it, I'd be sent crashing into hard and solid ground, and maybe another canon would roar.

Just as the thought sprang into my mind, the canon roared one time after another. Counting the blasts, I found that another eight contestant's game was over.

12 contestants left. Already, this was a fast-paced game.

One foot on the branch, I picked myself up before placing the other firmly in front of its twin. There was a five foot gap.

I could make it.

One deep breath. Two deep breaths. Three deep breaths.

And jump.

I missed the mark. I grappled for the ledge, grabbing rocks firmly between my fingers.

"No, no no no no no…..C'mon…." My arm throbbed, but I couldn't let that stop me. I heaved myself over the ledge. "You can do this." My stomach hit ground, and my legs shortly followed. My back against the ground, I heaved my chest back and forth, almost laughing, but stopped because a contestant could be near. I peered over the edge, and saw a contestant dart out of the wood and into the cave.

Great. Just lost a hiding spot.

My bag slipped off my shoulder, and I sifted through the contents. Bread, a water bottle, a sleeping bag.

Excellent.

Underneath that?

Knives, knives and more knives.

Even more excellent.

I might have a chance in this thing after all.

Stuffing my bag, and yanking the zip shut, I groaned because my hair had gotten tangled in the zip. I tried to wrench it free, but it was melded into the metal. There was only one thing for it. The knife glittered in the sun beside me. I grabbed it with my good hand and sawed my hair free. As the flaming red strands floated away, realisation dawned. It was like a honing beacon for other contestants. Now that I thought about it, I was the only red head out of twenty four. Now that had dwindled down to 12, well….

This was a problem.

I pulled the bandage off my arm and looped it around my hair, before slicing quickly and painlessly.

I raked my hand through my hair, and when my hand fell through nothing, I felt strangely homesick. I'd been growing it out for the last three years. But it had to be done. The stray strands cured behind my ear and tickled my neck. I slipped the knife into my belt loop.

Screams pierced the air; blood curdling screams.

Looking down over the ledge, I saw the other contestant flee the cave, limping, blood covered and arm amputated.

What?

He fell to the ground, crying out in pain. He scrambled back across the forest floor, agonised screams escaping his lips.

When a gigantic bear trundled out of the cave, I understood why.

Its growls reverberated through the cave and the forest, launching jabberjays into the sky in flocks to flee.

The other contestant saw me from the ground and sent shooting daggers at me with his eyes through the blanket of tears staining his face. When the bear, the terrifying muttation, raised its claw for the death blow, and I turned away, squeezed my eyes shut and winced when I heard his final cry.

The canon blew.

It was all over.

The forest called to me, and I gathered my stuff and ran. I ran and just kept running.

Finally, after my chest almost collapsed from exhaustion and my throat burned from drought, I listened to the sounds of the forest and was thankful for the sounds of the river.

Following the sound was pretty easy; it flowed easily through the complete silence of the forest. Finally, up ahead, I saw the sparkling of the creek and the hint of a rainbow floating overhead. I dashed toward the river, falling to my knees in the silt. I splashed the water in my face, and filled my water bottle, pouring some of the water cleanser we had been given and waiting until it would be drinkable.

I leaned forward and watched my reflection in the river water. I fingered my new short bob with apprehension, grabbing some of the river silt and mud and smearing it across my scalp, quenching the flame.

I closed my eyes and listened. It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Rough hands grabbed me and threw me into the river, and I knew that I really should try to be a better listener.

It could be the death of me.