Chapter 9

We spend the next day gathering food, drinking and refilling our water bottles. I try hunting for some food and I catch a few fish, along with a squirrel. It won't last past the day, seeing as we're both hungry. We've spent the day hardly talking, but as the sun sets, the sky turning a pretty burnt orange, it seems like a good time to talk.

"Thank you for coming to find me." Flint says, as we start the fire. The way I figure, Squirrel and Aquette are separated, but they both know there's a chance I found Flint. We're effectively inviting them to our little camp out with the smoke signals, but seeing as we're armed and have fared fairly well after the night of the mutts, it's unlikely they'll turn up. I know I wouldn't.

"It's no problem. You would have done the same for me." I dismiss, smiling at him.

"Of course." He smiles and hugs me softly. The fire crackles and spits some as we turn our attention back to keeping warm: because the night is becoming severely cold and we have no tent or sleeping bags. My extra jacket is a blessing in this temperature.

"Hey… Regan. What's district seven like?" Flint asks me. I tilt my head. It's an odd question.

"Why?"

"Just asking. No… I guess I just want to know what it's like for you back at home." He answers, shrugging.

"Um… Well… District seven is huge. Most of our houses are near the felling forests and it's not… Not exactly what I would call an affluent district. Most families are very poor." It occurs to me that as I speak, the capitol are probably turning their cameras to the other tributes. I wonder how my comments will be taken. The Capitol is all too happy to neglect us, but when we point it out, it's an outrage. And I don't care. I will continue to shame them. "We get by… I mend clothes and we get milk from the cow. I suppose… I suppose seven is nice to look at. The forests are lovely. You have to be careful though. We have a lot of casualties where people, mostly children, wander into the felling forests and they're crushed by trees being cut down for lumber. We lose a few people a year to the bears in the forest. But we get by." I tell him, trying to think. I wonder if the Capitol has censored this information. They don't want the districts to know about one another. I'm smiling on the inside.

I showed them up. "What's district one like?"

He laughs, bitterly.

"Well there are no trees; that's for sure. It's very industrialised. We make things like books, make up, paintings, furniture… There are a lot of factories. And almost everyone works in them. I can't yet, because I'm not old enough. I go to the district one training academy. We train for these games. We're meant to. We grow up, with the Capitol always looming over us. Commanding us." He stops talking, as if he's afraid he's gone too far, as if he's said too much. I fear he has too. The Capitol won't take kindly to this conversation. I don't care. They've already taken everything from me: How else can they hurt me.

My grandfather always said that mental scars hurt far more than physical pain. You remember the darkest hours of your life, whereas cuts heal. He's right, and I've only just realised to what extent.

I sigh, rubbing my hands together; trying to keep warm. It's an effort. There's a soft but icy breeze running through the trees and I'm struggling against the cold. Flint shivers.

We're in for a long night.

When I awake, I jump up, panicked. I didn't realise I'd fallen asleep and I could be in huge trouble. We haven't moved location for two nights, and anything could be creeping up on us.

Looking around us desperately, I realise everything's ok. Flint is still here and the fire has burned itself out. We're still OK. I shake Flint awake, stamping out the dying remains of our fire.

"We need to move. We've stayed too long."

"Where too?" He asks blearily, getting to his feet. I shrug.

"Not sure. Water I think." I say as I look through our supplies. We have a long day of hiking ahead of us, and I don't think half a bottle of water between us is going to go very far.

"Let's get going." I say, pulling the backpack over my shoulders and pulling Flint to his feet.

"Yeah. Maybe they'll give us a free day today." He muses. I know what he means. He means that perhaps the mutts won't attack us today. That the Gamemakers will make no effort to drive us together. I hope not. I'm tired and I haven't eaten much recently. My stomach growls.

"We need to find food as well. How are you at hunting?" I ask.

"I'm ok. Not great certainly. But I can catch a few things." He replies as we begin walking off into the forest.

"Better than nothing." I grin. He nudges me playfully in the ribs.

The walk is surprisingly peaceful. And that's why I'm scared.

Maybe the Gamemakers are giving us a free day. But I have a feeling it's a little more sinister than that. I think that some larger threat is being devised right at this moment, and that we may not have very long left.

"It's quiet today." Flint remarks. I nod slowly. Too quiet. I don't like it. I feel on edge. There's electricity in the air. Like the calm before the storm.

Which begs the question; What exactly is this storm? And will I make it through to the other side?

It's evening now. And the storm has begun. It began with a great rumbling roar of thunder, making me jump and my ears hurt. Then a blindingly bright burst of lightning. Then the rain. The pounding, thick, heavy rain, so powerful it hurts my head with every drop.

The night has already come and the storm is still invading us. We use leaves to make a kind of cup to drink water, satisfying at least one of my needs. A piercingly shrill sound penetrates the night, barely audible above the rain.

It is not a cannon, but screams. All of them from Squirrel. Angry hysterical screams into the heavens, cursing everyone and everything in the world.

I think the object of the storm is to annoy us, because it's funny. It's funny to see teenagers who are fighting to death, trying not to get wet. I imagine Squirrel: a tiny girl whom everything angers; jumping everywhere and releasing hysterical shrieks. Very funny.

We've been in the same place, under a tree in the least damp place we could find, for nearly for three hours, since the rain began, waiting for some sign that the storm was stopping. Maybe the Gamemakers want us to move a little bit.

"Let's get out of here." I say, looking out into the rain, unable to see more than 10 feet ahead.

"But… We'll get even wetter." Flint protests. I turn to him.

"The rain is designed to bring us together. They want us to fight, and the longer we postpone this, the worse off we'll be. If it's a fight they want, then it's a fight they'll get." I tell him. He nods determinedly.

I know the Capitol are waiting for a kiss under the rain instead of this, so I kiss his lips for just a second leaving him with no objections.

"Let's go." I smile.

We run instead of walking, trying to gain some ground and we can't avoid falling down because of the slippery ground. But we laugh instead and just help each other. It could be worse.

It's just then that I look up and notice the colour of the sky. It's red. What? I stare harder t it and frown as I try to stare through the thick rain. As I stare I have to wipe my eyes because the rains getting in them. I cry out. It hurts more than it should. I wipe my face and my hand comes away red. Am I bleeding? I look at my clothes and they're entirely red too.

"What's this?" I ask Flint.

"Blood. Are you alright?!" He asks, panicking. I nod. I look up at the red sky again and then I cry out in alarm. It has a sick, metallic taste to it.

It's raining blood.

I scream and flail backwards under a tree. How can it be raining blood?! I know why they've done it. I'm terrified and I'm trying to get way, but only tripping over. Where did they get the blood from?! How many people did they have to drain to get this much?!

Flint and I are running away as fast as we can, already drenched in the hot, metallic, red liquid. As we run I notice the new feature of the never-ending rain. It hurts. Each patter of rain sends a small but noticeable spike of pain through my skin. It's rocks. Tiny rocks. We need to find a place with a roof, and there's only one possibility: the Cornucopia.

Then it hits me, the real object of the Gamemakers. I turn to Flint, who's trying to keep the rain off his head.

"I know what they want. They want us to walk and walk and walk. The rain will get worse, worse and worse, until we finally realise the solution." I tell him, my stomach dropping. "They want us- all of us… To move to the cornucopia. We have no choice."

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Lucy xxx