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Just a warning... There are some...slight modifications to this year's arena.
But they are important...
Enjoy!
Katniss is alive.
The sky told me a couple hours ago – just when I'd finally found a happy place in the mess of my dreams.
But so many are dead, I can't remember them all. All I know is that all the Careers and Katniss are still running around the woods somewhere. I untie myself from the tree, feeling stiff, dry-mouthed, and oddly enough - cold. My bones ache, too – I haven't ever felt this sore after a night of sleep. But then again, I've never slept up-right in a tree before.
I scurry down the side of the tree covered by thick green, just in case someone is lurking about. The woods are so silent it's unsettling.
And suddenly, the world starts looking black.
I, more-so, fall over into sitting position at the base of the tree, waiting for the Earth to still.
I'm more dehydrated then I thought. I should have suspected that I'd get thirstier faster than on average – I had just been running for my life. The adrenaline set fire to my throat.
And by the ashen, speckled skin that is slowly creeping up my hand – I don't have a lot of time.
Standing up and walking straight proves to be a much harder task then bargained. Directions mean nothing anymore. There is only forward. It's hours – I think. Time passes weirdly here. The sun doesn't travel the same pace as it does at home. It's like we aren't even on the same planet.
Sooner or later, I find myself trudging through a jungle-like section. The trees are strange here, or so I think. It could be the sickness getting to me.
But I can't deny it –
They look like people.
I reach out and touch one on its cheek and study it. Why are you so familiar to me? It's a pale tree with dark leaves, not really matching the rest. Its nose is small and pointy –
And then it hits me.
Hello, Nine.
I suddenly feel sick to my stomach – sicker than before.
I am walking through the forest of the dead.
Their faces are all there. Both tributes from ten, the girl from three, both from four, the boy from five, both from seven, the girl from eight, both from nine.
And they're staring at me.
The sun is blaring. Goose bumps rise on my skin – but I'm hot. And I'm not sweating like I should be.
And if not seeing the faces of those who have passed having told me I'm gone, when I start seeing pictures – I know I'm truly losing it.
The vines in front of me – jaded and swimming – suddenly reach out to me and coil, like a finger curling. They want me to follow them.
And I do – I stumble forward, unable to look away. The sweet scent of frosting coating the air to the point I'm almost suffocating me in a welcome and familiar way. I embraceit.
Katniss.
She's here.
"Peeta?"
It's her voice. It's her. I know it.
"Katniss?" I call out softly, trying to peer around the thick vines for her – but I can't. There's too much in the way.
On one of the tight coils of the vine is a large single, crimson bud about the size of my head. It leans forward as if it is looking at me.
I really want to touch it – it looks so soft. The way its petals curls up, almost like a pair of lips.
A very familiar pair of lips – the only pair I've ever touched.
And teeth.
It smiles at me in a devious, familiar way.
"Peeta?"
I know it's her – but why does she sound so sad? No – disappointed.
She's disappointed.
"Your heart belongs to me." I nod, even though I know she can't see me. What's wrong with her? Is she sick? Her words sound so choppy and unfitting. It's like she's broken –
The rose grins at me, flashing its unnerving, sharp teeth – leaning in closer.
Then it snarls.
Montare Falsk.
I bolt just as the jaw takes a bone-shattering chomp in my direction. The vines slither after me, attempting to secure around my ankles and drag me back.
I pull the knife from my pouch and skewer them. The flower gives out a piercing shriek and recoils. I crawl away as fast as I can away from the Dead Forest and to a nearby patch of green. But I can still here its cries of anguish.
Montare Falsk.
My dad had come home from the woods one day with a blue one just like this. It was dead, of course, severed off from the head. He laid it on the table and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"Look at it," he said. "Whatever you're seeing is not what I see. So remember your weakness." At the time, I couldn't help but notice the way it resembled the blue of Prim's eyes. But now, the red is uncanny resemblance of the fire dress Katniss had dazzled the nation of Panem in.
I know what it looks like – but most likely, the other tributes do not. They'll just be attracted to it, like they're intended – and die.
That's cruel.
I know the Gamemakers had hoped I'd go this way - planned on me dying by its hand. Montare Falsk is the closet thing to magic that Panem has ever seen – but this plant was even more modified than a normal one.
They'd stole her voice. She'd sounded so disappointed. It was her voice – but it was the tone she had when she asked me on the roof why I was there.
"Your heart belongs to me."
She had said all of those words at one point or another, but not together. It was like they'd taken segments of speech and put them together, just for me.
They'd bugged our room...
I guess it just goes to show you –
In the Games, you are always watched.
I don't know when I passed out, but when I do – I luckily drop in a field of tall grass not too far away from the Dead Forest. It's soft – it kind of feels like her hair after a shower. Wet and gentle. I wish I'd gotten to –
Wet.
My mouth aches at the thought. If the grass it wet –
I press my hand forcefully into the ground, almost laughing when I feel it squish with mud.
Water.
I crawl frantically around the field punching the ground, ignoring the pounding in my head. For the first time in my life, I know what water smells like, because when I part the grass in front of me – I see it. It's a small pond, not bigger than my closet back at home – but it's clean, fresh water. Like an animal, I dunk my face in the water and drink until I can't breathe. My lungs are on fire – but I'd rather that than my throat.
I drink more than I should – but I can't help it. I'm going to see another day. I can protect Katniss.
Unfortunately, I have nothing to carry the water with.
I'll just have to stay close by – not stray too far and lose this spot. This is my spot.
Where the hell is the rest of the water in the arena, though? They have got to have more water than this silly pond in this shitty secluded area. This will be a fast Game if they don't have more water sources.
I comb my way through the grass and back towards the woods, set on finding suitable wood for my arrows now that I'm not going to die.
I find a group of healthy looking trees several acres away from the water and begin peeling bark. They aren't fantastic, but they're the best I've found so far. So I'm not going to give up this opportunity.
It's then that I feel an arrow graze the skin off the side of my calf.
I hiss in pain, clutching my leg. I may be bleeding, but it isn't fatal. It's shallow.
But that's not the worst part –
Someone's close.
I look over my shoulder to see four, pale, grimacing faces racing towards me. Glimmer has her bow up, obviously being the little bitch that snagged me. But she looks sick – not just dehydrated – but crazy.
"Glimmer!" Marvel scolds. "What the hell?"
She has tears running down her cheeks, her lips, dry and cracked, pulled over her teeth in a snarl. "No more, Dad! You can't hurt her anymore!" Her voice is hoarse, cracking violently as she screams at me – horrible things that leave me very confused. She draws another arrow out of her pouch, set on piercing me through the heart. I flinch.
Marvel smacks the bow out of her hands and clutches her wrists in one hand and strokes her cheek soothingly with the other. "You're fine. He's not here. Your mom is fine. You're okay." She struggles against him, growling at me.
"Mom," she whimpers. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She collapses into him, his arms surrounding her. He shushes her and rocks her. His eyes are circled by dark shadows and his skin looks almost white.
It looks like thirst has got even the toughest of us.
Cato looks the healthiest. Most of his coloring is gone, but he's still standing tall. But the way he's eyeing Clove, who at the moment is swaying, unsteady on her feet, makes me think he's going to lose it for other reasons. "Clove," he murmurs, "Are you okay?"
Clove blinks slowly, batting away whatever is inside her. "Yeah," she mutters. "It's just getting really dark out. We'll need to head back soon."
The funny thing is – it's not dark.
"The hallucinations have begun?" I ask with more sympathy than anything else.
Cato's head snaps toward me, eyes narrowed. "What would you know about it?"
"It's no fun being thirsty."
Something snaps in Cato and he slams all his weight into me, pinning me against the trunk of the tree I was just stripping.
He presses the blade of his knife into my throat. I try to push him off, but damn is he strong.
"Tell me why I shouldn't slice your love-stricken ass to pieces right now?"
I gulp. My Adam's apple tickles the cool metal.
Well, shit.
My precious plan. The one Haymitch and I constructed is no longer valid. They are no longer looking for another member to add to their pack. They don't want team work. They need help.
But I can give it to them.
It is then; my new plan falls into place. It may be short-lived, especially on my end of the deal and incredibly heartless.
But it's the Games. And I'm playing.
"Because I know where water is."
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-Katie
