It's still early in the morning. The horizon is painted in a faint yellow as the sun as just begun to peek up over the ground. I don't feel like eating at all, but I remind myself how foolish it would be to die of starvation after everything that has happened in the past three days. I pick up the bloodstained sword and try unsuccessfully to clean it by rubbing dirt on it. Only some of the blood comes off, and I soon give up, stuffing the hilt into Heather's backpack. I strap the backpack on and climb the tree that our trio had hidden in the previous day. Once I am hidden in the foliage, I search through the backpack for something to eat. Nothing looks particularly appetizing, and I end up settling with a bruised apple and some of the water left over from the single canteen we brought from the lake. I munch quietly and stare at my reflection in the few shiny patches that remain on the sword. Maybe it's the distortion from the slight curve of the blade, but I look like I'm near death. My brown hair is stained with dirt and blood, and my face has a haggard look to it.
A small rustling noise behind me makes me jump and spin around quickly, pulling out one of my knives from its hilt. A small bird sits perched on a small twig, staring intently at me with its beady black eyes. I lower my knife; it looks like a baby chick. But chicks don't fly…do they? The bird lets out small chirps and hops around, never taking its eyes off me. It has yellow feathery fluff surrounding its body on all sides, which puffs up and down each time the bird squeaks, "Peep!" I smile and reach out with my hand. The bird immediately hops into it. It tickles my hand as it hops about; I laugh. The bird stares up at me, still chirping. Then it inflates to the size of my head and lets out the shrillest, highest, loudest noise I've ever heard in my entire life. I drop the bird, but it's too late. The bird's screech, disproportional compared to its body, sends my hands straight for my ears. But it's still too loud, and I suddenly get dizzy and I lose my traction on the branch and I slip off and I fall. "Muttation," I think. For about two seconds, all I see is the ground, quickly approaching. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. Maybe it's because the bird's shrill cry is too loud, or maybe it's because I'm in shock. I unintentionally take my hands away from my ears and start to flail in the air. Amazingly, just before impact, I catch a branch. It strains under my weight, but slows me down just enough to defer a deathly impact before it breaks and I hit the ground.
Dizzily, I regain my footing just as the bird bounces down to the ground a few feet away from me. I guess it can't fly, but it's not giving up the chase. It turns towards me, looking rather dazed. It puffs up and screeches for just a fraction of a second before the knife I throw at it makes impact. The bird pops. No exaggeration; I actually hear the puff of air that is released from the cavities of the bird's body as it spectacularly and bloodily explodes.
By the time the ringing in my ears starts to fade, I've already gathered up my knife and the few other objects that accompanied me in my fall to the ground, and climbed back up into the tree where my backpack still sits. I suspect the muttation's cry was heard all throughout the arena, and multiple tributes must be converging on my position. No sooner have I gotten back into cover that I hear voices coming from the direction of the Cornucopia. "It came from over here! Over here!" It isn't hard to recognize the voice of the girl from 5, the one who first found me up in the tree while I was sleeping three nights ago. She won't find me this time.
The voices are getting louder, and more numerous. I move so that my back is against the firm trunk of the tree, so I won't be snuck up on like last time. The tributes come into view below me. I can see them through the branches and leaves of the tree, the tributes from 3, 5, and 11. They stand in a circle around the remains of the bird, chattering loudly and pointing in different directions.
I realize that the tributes from 7 are missing just as I hear branches rustling directly behind me. I press up against the trunk of the tree and slip one of my knives out from its holster. I quickly decide to put it back; if the tribute falls from the tree with a slit throat, the other tributes will know that I'm up here. This has to appear to be an accident. The rustling gets closer; I'm pretty sure the tribute is now in my tree. I listen intently, trying to see from which direction my attacker will come. A branch to my right rustles, and I silently move and prepare to attack. As soon as the tribute's foot comes into view, right in front of me, I swiftly shoot my leg out and kick it. Hard. I hear bones crunch, a loud grunt, and then the boy from 7 is falling from the tree, screaming. Five seconds later, I hear his impact. The girl from 5 screams. I hold completely still, listening to the voices below me, but not daring to look. Somewhere in the tree directly across from me, I hear a girl's voice.
"What's happening down there? What's…oh God! Kent!"
Branches creak, leaves rustle.
"Kent? Kent, wake up! What's wrong with his neck? Did he fall?"
Silence.
"Answer me!"
More silence, broken by the sounds of a scuffle, a short scream, a cannon, and a beeping noise.
"Let's get out of here," a girl says.
The sounds of running footsteps fades away, until all that's left is that awful beeping noise. I risk a peek, and I can't say I'm shocked at what I see. On the ground below the tree lies the boy from 7, paralyzed and unconscious. A couple feet from him lies his partner, fresh blood still pouring out of her slit throat like a fountain. I can't say I feel sorry for her death, but I am sorry it had to be like that. After a few moments, the beeping stops and a cannon fires as the boy from 7's heart finally gives out. The hovercraft claw picks both of them up in one scoop, and lifts them away. I slump back against the trunk, taking a few moments to calm myself, and then scoop up my backpack and climb down briskly. I'm leaving the forest; it's no longer safe.