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THE BLOODBATH
A gentle breeze touches Hiccup's face, and ruffles his hair like a friend. He can feel warm sunlight against his skin. Well, at least we're not in a desert. Maybe. He takes a deep breath, shuddering with panicky nerves and the mechanical rumble of the rising plate beneath his feet, and opens his eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games begin!"
Oh. Oh. Hiccup's mouth twitches up into a seasick smile. At least if he has to die, it's gonna be in the most beautiful place he's ever seen.
The Cornucopia lies in front of him; the other tributes stand on their plates, ranged around it, eyeing each other warily as the countdown echoes overhead. And around them is nature like Hiccup has never experienced it. The arena is a valley tucked between the slopes of vast forested mountains, with dust and scrub and long grass and decaying leaves underfoot. High above them, the rough bare trunks of evergreens soar up into the blue sky. Silvery waterfalls tumble here and there down the steep stone cliffs. It's a terrifyingly lovely place, harsh and merciless and magnificent.
"Thirty-one...thirty..."
The boom of the countdown jolts Hiccup back to reality, and he grits his teeth and focuses. He hasn't got time to stand here marveling; he's got to be ready, got to come up with a plan, got to think! Strike fast, strike hard, and get out...that was what Gobber said, right?
There are all kinds of bags and knapsacks and tools scattered on the ground between him and the Cornucopia, but they're too far to reach easily. The only thing nearby is a water bottle - not worth the risk with this much water around - unless they're going to poison it? No, they'd lose all the tributes...the tributes!
Hiccup looks to his right, and sees the huge roughneck from District Two, meaty fists clenched at his sides. Right, not going that way. To his left is the tiny kid from District Five - didn't her hair used to be white? She's shifting from foot to foot, crouched down like she's getting ready to run. Maybe if Hiccup races straight in, then straight out again, he can pick up something useful before the big guy comes back for him?
He feels his teeth chattering and realizes belatedly that he's shaking, so hard he's surprised he hasn't fallen right off his plate, yeah, that's exactly what he needs, to blow his legs off before the Games have even started -
"One," booms the voice, and everything goes crazy.
There's motion all around him. The little kid is running, running, gone into the fringes of the woods with a crash of shrubbery. Good for her, but where's the big guy?
Hiccup doesn't know, he - he still isn't off his plate, it's too late for planning now, he should be running but he can barely feel his feet. Someone shrieks, and he turns toward the Cornucopia just in time to see a kid get mowed down by a Career girl swinging a scythe. Blood sprays into the air.
Dozens of feet are pounding the stony ground all around him, churning up choking clouds of dust. Tributes grapple, scream, snarl, plead, and die, scrabbling in the dry dirt. A boy runs out of the chaos and trips, dropping the cardboard box he was clutching as another boy follows him down with a spear. The box bursts open; matches and blood spill across the ground.
Hiccup can't breathe. The smell, oh, god, it's like a fresh pig slaughter, ripe and salty. Think, think! He...he needs supplies, right, he needs a weapon! Another scream splits the air, then trails off into a wet gurgle. Think, think...oh, god, this is impossible! The supplies are in the Cornucopia and the Cornucopia is a killing ground...
The duststorm whirls, and a girl emerges into the open air at a run, panting, bloodstreaked, clutching a dripping axe, with a heavy pack on her back and another bag dangling from her free hand. Her flashing eyes are steely blue and wild with adrenaline.
Astrid.
Hot terror thaws Hiccup's frozen body in a flash. She hasn't seen him yet, but she will in a minute. Wide-eyed, he takes a stumbling step back, then another...then turns, and bolts for the trees.