Day Fifteen: The Victor

Doon Wainright's POV- D8

The gift arrives with the first rays of sunlight.

I force myself up, barely keeping my eyes open as I unwrap a basket and a sword. Inside the basket is a turkey sandwich. It has mayonaise, tomatoes, tettuce, mustard, and pickles. I'm relieved that there's no olives.

I eat it all slowly, not wanting to give myself a stomach ache. Surely today will be the last day, with only three of us left. I want to fill myself and attempt to last as long as I can.

When I finish, I stand and slip my sword into my belt. I clench my fist around my fork. I don't know what will happen today, but I'm glad it's finally ending.

I tread over the hills, back toward the mountain. Toward the Cornucopia. Toward Alicia, my biggest threat. It'll be a long trip, seeing as I ran for most of the night.

As the minutes drag on, an idea pops into my head.

I quickly bend my knees, getting into a ready position. Then I extend them.

Instead of jumping straight up, I jump forward. I don't go as high, but I do travel far with the help of the boots. This way I'll travel much quicker.

But after about three more jumps, I find my exhaustion level growing. The energy required to jump is too much. So, even though I still have about a mile to go, I resort to walking.

The sun beats down on my sweaty face. I drag my feet through the dirt. I'm almost there. Just a few more minutes.

I allow my mind to wander to my father. Is he watching me at this very moment? What has he thought of my performance? Is he proud? Does he even care?

And then I'm there. The glint of the sun off of the golden metal of the Cornucopia hurts my eyes. And then I see her.

Not Alicia. I don't know where she is. Genevive.

She sits on a white horse. In her hand she holds a knife. In the other, a pair of night vision glasses. I wonder if she even used them.

She lets out a small shout, and the horse begins to run toward me. I un-sheath my sword and ready my matches and my flammable liquid (Pearce's gifts). As the horse comes closer, I begin to pour the liquid on the ground in front of me.

Wait for it. You have to light it at the right moment or it won't work.

I wait until the horse is just yards away, then light the match and drop it. The ground in front of me ignites in flame. A wall of fire rises up before me. I run around it just before Genevive and her noble steed reach the wall.

The horse is going too fast. It runs through the flames, catching itself on fire. Genevive screams as the horse falls over and lands on her. It flails and whinnies, and eventually puts itself out. When it twists in order to rise, she cries out in agony.

It stands and runs away. I stand over Genevive, paralyzed by the animal. She can't move her legs or her right arm. She weeps, staring up at me. I raise my sword and close my eyes, reminding myself that I'm simply putting her out of her misery, and nothing more.

And then the cannon sounds.

Alicia Evans' POV- D1

BOOM!

One of them is gone. It's down to the final two. I'm sure it's Genevive who died. After all, in a battle with Doon, she doesn't stand much of a chance.

I turn around, land, then jump up again and glide toward the Cornucopia.

I had gotten up around midnight and began to search for them, hoping to end it early. Obviously, I didn't find either one of them.

The wind dies down and I land, grounded for a while until it picks up again. I start seeing creatures- no, mutts. They gather around me and begin to chase. I sprint, turning back when one gets a little too close and spraying the knock-out gas on them. It has no effect.

Eventually the wind returns and I fly through the air. Below me, I can see twenty-four mutts in a pack. Two for each district. If I land, I will die.

When I reach the Cornucopia, I see Doon. By now I've pulled far enough ahead of the pack to land safely. They form a cirlce around the two of us, snarling, growling, and baring their teeth. But none of them charge.

They're just here to make sure we fight, I think with a smile. This will end sooner than I expected.

I scan the circle of mutts. The ones from One are some sick mix of eagle and wolves. They have the bodies and heads of grey wolves, with talons and wings. They stand on their hind legs.

The mutts from Two resemble bears, but they're covered in scales that change colors. Three has leopards with ruby eyes and extra-long legs. Four has the head of a shark and the body of a cheetah. Five has laughing hyenas that mock me. I loath them.

Six has giant hawks that glare at me. Seven has girraffes, which doesn't make much sense, but I go with it. Eight has what looks like real people, except for the fact that they're glowing. Radiation, I think.

Nine has anacondas that slither on the ground. My chest tightens as I imagine them squeezing the life out of someone. Ten has giant cows, which almost makes me burst out in laughter. But I keep my composure.

Eleven has moles that are the size of normal cows. And twelve has black wild dogs that have saliva dripping from their lips.

I shudder and turn back to Doon. He raises his sword. I take out mine. And the battle begins.

He takes the first strike. I block it quickly and take a jab at him, cutting his forearm. He lashes out at me, ripping open my stomach. Crap. He's already got the upper-hand, injuring me worse than I did to him.

He smiles and chuckles evily. I swing my sword again and get his thigh.

"Ha!" I say, and immediatly wish I didn't. His eyes narrow and he comes forward again. I attempt to block, but he knocks the sword out of my hand. It skids a few feet away. I run to get it, but he stabs my side, further injuring me and opening my stomach wound.

I fall the the ground as I try to keep my entrails from becoming my extrails. Blood covers my arm up to my elbow. Black spots dance before my eyes and my vision blurs.

I can't see much, but I hear him walk over and stand over me. I feel around for my sword and find it. With a pathetic battle cry, which is more like a moan, I swing my weapon up. I feel its impact on his skin. He cries out and falls. I suspect I did some serious damage.

I swing again and miss. Again. Score.

He screams in pain. I feel the warm trickle of his blood against my own bloody hand. He whispers something, but his voice is so raspy I can't understand it.

"What?" I ask him, and hold off another attack until I know what he said.

"I am going to kill you," he says, loud and clear. Then I see the silvery outline of a blade rise above my head, and fall.

Doon Wainright's POV- D8

BOOM!

She's gone. I did it. I've won the Hunger Games.

Well, that's it. I'll be posting the final interview, and then it'll be done! Be sure to read the sequel; The 176th Hunger Games! I hope you enjoyed this story!