Flashes of Gold

Chapter Three | Sleeping in Pine

The day of the Games is coming right up. We have only three days to practice before the battle between life and death. Three measly days. Silently, I'm thankful that I can wield a pretty damn good axe.

In fact, I'm almost positive that I have a one up on most everyone, except maybe the Careers. My fencing is superb – taught by my father as soon as I could lift a blade. But I've never told anyone, not even mother, about my skill with a sword. Because I know she would be angry at the reminder of the man who betrayed her. Only Evon knew, actually, and he wouldn't tell a soul. Not that it mattered now.

I had to admit, when we entered the training room on the first day, it was hard not to go directly to the sword stand. But I knew that sword practice was the least of things I needed. What I really had to learn was how to find food. I went right over to the edible plants stand, where another girl was already being taught.

It was the girl from District 4, acting all giddy again. It made me want to take one of the poisonous ferns and shove it down her throat just to stop her from talking. I refrained from saying anything at all, though, and just listened. The next three days, it was imperative that I learned something.

And I did. After spending an hour at the edible plants stand, I knew a wide variety of plants that were safe to eat, and also kept a repertoire of ones that weren't. Who knew? Perhaps I'd find need of those poisonous ferns before this was all over. Maybe I'd really get a chance to shut up that District 4 brat permanently. I laughed humorlessly at the thought.

I spent the rest of the time trying to wield a bow. It definitely wasn't my strong point. The grasp didn't feel right to me, and I yearned to change weapons to something more familiar. But something told me that it would come in handy, and so I struggled for hours trying to properly aim. By the end of practice, I got two arrows in the target, but they were nowhere near the center. Ah well. At least it wasn't a completely fruitless effort.

The next day, I spent some time with the bow again, but soon tired of it and moved on to something new. I was pretty good with knots, but I managed to learn a few new ones before going on to the camouflage stand. Hell, by now I didn't care what I was doing. I was eager to learn a little bit of everything, and determined to stay away from the sword stand. Johanna warned me against showing my skills during practice. Somehow, I always ended up back at the bows, drawing the slender string back and trying to get accustomed to the snap of every arrow the I released.

The last day, we have to perform before the judges. I've no idea what I'm going to do. My strategy thus far has been cold and unyielding, but once I get into the Arena, will that change? It certainly might, and I don't want to draw unwanted attention to me during the Bloodbath. So by the time it's my turn with the judges, I show them what I've learned with the bow, and end up walking out feeling their unimpressed glowers on my back. If I get a lower number, the rest of the tributes won't think I'm a threat and will hopefully leave me alone. Of course, there's really only one person who would know that this number really doesn't suit me, but Evon isn't here right now. I turn my mind to other things and walk into the dining room, where Johanna, Matt, and my Prep team are waiting.

I'm thinking I probably got a four or five, but beside my picture, there's a six. I guess I didn't fail as much as I thought. Still, I kept my face void of emotion. Matt, who was graced with a nine, maybe needs to be paid a bit more attention to.

I can feel Johanna's eyes on me, but when I look up at her, she isn't glaring like she usually is. Instead, she seems to be thinking. Probably considering my score and the reason I didn't go for a higher one. I'm sure she's caught onto my plan, because it's fairly similar to the one she used when she was competing. Have myself underestimated so that people will target the more threatening tributes, and then I'll show them who they should have been worrying about.

The next morning is the start of the Games, and I'm nothing but a bundle of nerves. I wish I could say that the thought of dying doesn't bother me, but I can't, especially when my entire District is watching. Evon, Calan, mother, the little girls who'd run about the marketplace, the old man who'd taught me everything I knew about lumber... What were they thinking now? What went through their heads when they saw my 6? Were they worried about me, or didn't they care? Did Evon care? Or Calan? Surely, she must have a heart somewhere in her cold chest. She must not want her own twin sister to die.

But as I drifted off into a restless sleep, all I could see was her sneer, goading me on as she sat on the couch of our home...body pressed to Evon's, face buried in his shoulder, positioned in a way used to be mine. Stolen, stolen, stolen. And I don't get much sleep tonight, because it turns out that I'm not much worried about my life after all, but rather the life of someone who isn't even in danger.

My outfit for the Games is simple and comfortable. The Prep team puts me into a pair of versatile pants and a long sleeve shirt, colored green. Next, they give me a thick vest lined with fur, which feels too warm in the already heated room. Still, I don't complain. I know I must look exhausted from the night before, but it's not just sleep I crave. I want to get out of here, because my instincts are telling me that my death is coming up. Who knows, I might not even get past the Bloodbath. How embarrassing would that be, dying before I could even try to live...

The boots they give me are also lined with fur, but they aren't as thick as the vest. When I walk around the room to the make-up station, I find that it's fairly easy to do so. There's good traction on the boots, which are brown in color, and they're definitely of good workmanship.

The Prep team does a quick job of my make-up. They hid the bruises beneath my eyes and try to give my face a light sort of glow. They do nothing else, except to put my hair in an elastic. The low ponytail is reminiscent of my days back home, and the thought makes my throat constrict with emotion. My Prep team doesn't seem to notice, however, and they make me get up so that they can do little adjustments. When I finally get to look at myself in the mirror, I don't like what I see. It's not the outfit that aggravates me, but rather the sudden realization of what's to come when my eyes shift over the furs.

I don't know how I didn't realize it before, but as I'm ushered from the room to take my place in the cylinder, I feel myself swallow thickly in concern. The terrain will be cold. Perhaps even snowy, barren, and dead. So much for the edible plants stand.

Wren Fey, the girl with nothing. Perhaps I'll get Sponsors because of that. Perhaps people will decide to leave me alone in the Arena because of my 6. Somehow, I doubt it. Even a flawed 6 can't cover up my personality, which is bold and deadly and far too threatening. Maybe I should have tried to get a higher number, if only to scare people away. But it's too late now, because the cylinder is rising, and the ground is coming into view.

At first, all I see is white. It's everywhere, over everything, and I'm reminded of a cloud. Then, the coldness hits me, and I'm not on a cloud anymore, but rather staring at a landscape of snow, as far as the eye could see. In the distance loomed a great mountain, so huge that the very highest peaks were shrouded with gray and white and the blue of the sky. The Cornucopia is in the center of a large clearing that must be at least a mile wide. There are a few pine trees scattered around the vast space, but they offer little protection. I know then what I have to do, and where I'll be running to.

I shift my eyes to the weapons that lay within the gaping mouth of the golden Cornucopia. I see a bow resting on the hilt of a sword, and my mouth waters. I wonder if there's an axe mingled somewhere beneath all those weapons, but I know I've no time to think about that.

My main concern is getting out of the clearing alive. The area is so big that it'll be impossible to go anywhere without someone seeing your direction. My eyes scan the edge of the pine forest. It's so far away...

Should I take part in the Bloodbath? Or should I try to make a run for it, weaponless and vulnerable but, perhaps, still alive...? Since those are pine trees, I'd feel comfortable there. I practically grew up in the forest. I might be able to survive a week on my own, using the snow for water and the pine needles for food. Not a nice way to go, but in a battle of life and death, one can't be picky.

The seconds are diminishing. I turn my attention to the other tributes, seeing similar outfits on them. The Careers are eyeing the weapons. In typical fashion, they'll be going after those first, and will kill anyone who tries to goes too close. I notice how the District 4 girl is shaking. Her legs are moving on the plate, though I can't be sure if she's excited or nervous. Somehow, I think it might be the former.

Ten seconds. I still don't have a plan. Surely I need a weapon! Even if I can only secure a dagger, it'd be better than nothing. Good for hunting, or stripping bark off a tree, or ultimately protecting myself should anyone come along. And they will, I think, narrowing my eyes on the bright, shining gold. They will.

Five seconds. Christ, this is annoying. Are the cameras out yet? They must be. They're probably documenting the expressions of the tributes...introducing the audience to the terrain, the mountain, the forests...the wide, open space... There's no way I'll make it without being seen, I think to myself. But then, what does it really matter? The snow will show my footprints anyway, but once I get to the forest, I can climb a tree and my feet won't have to touch the ground. Three seconds. What should I do? Two seconds. Johanna, what did you do? One second. Is Evon watching me now? Silently giving me directions? Telling me to run for it?

It's time. People rush forward, intent on reaching the Cornucopia. My legs shift, unsure, and then dart forward too. I need a weapon. A dagger. A sword.

I get ten feet and then catch sight of a bag. My fingers reach out to grab it and I scuttle forward two more feet. I don't dare go farther. The Careers have already reached the Cornucopia and are battling over weapons. My sword is buried beneath the rest, with no way of attaining it. I'll have to make due and hope for the best. At the very least, there'll be food in the bag and I won't have absolutely nothing.

Back on the platform, I had at least figured out part of a plan. The direction I would be running to, that is. I push my legs forward, away from the Bloodbath that is just beginning, face grave as I begin to run. The snow is giving me a bit of trouble, but at least it isn't too heavy. I have to lift my feet up higher than normal, but I adjust quickly, gripping onto the bag as though it were my only chance of success.

If someone follows me, I don't see them. The farther away I get, the better I feel. I can distantly hear the sounds of steel on steel, and the screams of death, but I ignore the shivers it gives me and force ahead.

I've gone half a mile, perhaps, when I pause at a bunch of trees to look behind me. One look is all I need. People are still fighting. I grit my teeth and begin to run again, eyes locked to the mountain ahead. As soon as I reach the edge of the forest, the better.

I do, about three minutes later. I don't stop to look back this time, but only continue forward twenty more feet before I heave myself up into a pine tree and climb about halfway up. I rest for a short minute, trying to peer through the branches at the fight, but even as I do, seven canons go off. Seven dead. The Bloodbath is over, which means that the Careers will now be weeding everyone else out. It's time to go.

The snow, I realize, will be both a blessing and a curse. It'll be a blessing, because I don't intend on walking anyway, and without my footprints, the other tributes won't know I'm even there. It's a curse for obvious reasons. Jumping from tree to tree won't be fun, especially when they're pine trees. But I've done it before, plenty of times, with Evon when we were children and running from our parents, with Calan even, before we started to hate each other. My father taught me how to climb trees. We used to bring lunch up with us during his lunch break, and we'd find a sturdy branch as high as we could, and camp out there for hours.

I was wasting time, thinking about all that. Slipping the bag across my chest, I rubbed my hands together, balancing on the very edge of a tall branch. And then, I jumped.

The first few times, it was rough. My hands caught on the bark, which scraped harshly over my skin. I hadn't done this in so long that it took a while to grow accustomed to it. The eleventh tree in, I paused to scowl at the skin of my hands, which felt raw. This isn't good. I needed a good pair of gloves. The thought gave me a start. Jolting my bag into my lap, I open it shakily and peered inside.

I bet the Gamemakers were laughing now. It was as though they were mocking me the entire time. The bag contains a tiny ration of food: a cup of berries, a small jug of water, and a chunk of cheese. Beneath the food, I find two strips of leather, a spool of thick thread with a needle, and a pair of scissors. The only other useful objects are two rolls of bandages, but they are so small that I doubt I'll be able to reuse them. Cursing swiftly, I grabbed a roll and began to wrap my hands. At least it'll be some form of protection from the roughness of the bark.

I continue on, feeling angry at myself for not going farther to the Cornucopia. I wish more than anything that I had weapon.

By the time an hour goes by, my hands are coarse and burning, even with the bandages wrapped around them. My arms are sore, too, but it's definitely my fingers that I'm worried about. I needed gloves, extremely badly.

Then I think about the leather in my bag, and the needle and thread. I can't sew to save my life, though, so how will I possibly manage to make myself gloves? My mother or Calan could have done it, I think dryly. Maybe I would too, if I have stayed inside with them rather than spend all that time with father...

The sun is quickly sinking, and I know I don't have a lot of time left before it's dark. The Gamemakers are true to the terrain, at least. The days are short, even in this fabricated wintery land.

I consider jumping down and collecting some snow, but what would I do with it anyway? I have a bit of water and I don't want to leave marks in the creamy canvas below, just in case the Careers happen to enjoy hunting at night. Instead, I go a few more trees in before stopping and settling down for the night.

The temperature has already dropped significantly since the afternoon, and it would only drop more as the night came. That's why I'm intent on reaching the mountain. Hopefully, I might find a cave to escape the chillness. It's really my only option. With only this sleeveless vest, I won't make it through the week.

I don't want to waste my precious rations yet, so I only take a few gulps of water before putting it away. I strip a branch of pine needles and nibble on them a bit. District Seven, lumber. Surrounded by pine trees every single day, every day of the week. I know how to find my way around a pine forest, at least for a few days. I don't know how long I can last, munching on these coarse needles though. My throat's not made of steel.

Regardless, I force myself to swallow a few times. When I can't take it anymore, I shove the rest of the needles in my pack and begin getting ready for the night ahead.

There isn't a whole lot to do, really. After a few minutes of finding a solid branch and situating my bag, I feel lost. My hands twist in my lap, the only sign of my discomfort. My expression remains as stoic as ever as I watch the sun disappear. As a sharp breeze rushes past me, I shiver.

This won't do at all. I fumble with the fastenings of my vest and then shrug my arms into it. It's dangerous, falling asleep like this, because if something happens during the night my arms won't be free to react. But I can't bear to spend the night freezing said arms off, so I tell myself it's the right decision.

I drift off to sleep wondering if Evon, who seems to be entering my thoughts more than I'd like, is softly wishing goodnight. I want to open my mouth and whisper it back, but I know it's only a dream. He isn't here with me. He's probably wrapped up in Calan's arms...

I frown and my dreams turn into nightmares.

There's chapter 3 ^_^ Gah I'm having so much fun writing this. Thanks for the review! And of course, don't hesitate to review moar xD

So I know this is a fast going story, and there's a lot of things I purposefully left out, but they'll all be addressed later on in the chapters. If you think I'm going too fast, let me know~