"These are the seasons of our emotions and like the winds they fall

This is the wonder of devotion - I see the torch we all must hold

This is the mystery of the quotient - upon us all a little rain must fall."

- Robert Plant, 1973.


The 9th Annual Hunger Games

Jared Parker (16), District 5 Male

Led Zeppelin - The Rain Song (1973)


I trudge on as silently as I can through the mud, keeping my distance from the trees. The monotony of the arena is wearing us down. All of us. Every day we wake to the same surroundings and the same horrendous weather. Ten days ago, when twenty-four of us entered the arena, the heavens opened. And for the ten of us who remain, it's raining just as heavily as it was on the morning of the bloodbath.

As ever, there's a well-stocked pack of four Careers roaming the woods that cover half the arena. Tall, coniferous pines, Douglas firs and the like. There are a few back home, on the fringes of the district, but here they are in abundance.

The other half of the arena is a combination of grass and mud, though mud is becoming the more prominent surface as the days go by. The whole arena is being turned into a quagmire by the relentless rain. Looking down at my sodden feet, which are still encased in thin, soft leather boots, I can see at least six inches of standing water before the mud begins. In places, I sink down almost to my knees.

Considering my height, I wouldn't have been surprised if the twelve-year-old boy from District 7 who died yesterday had fallen into the mud and got himself trapped. Death by either drowning or starvation would have followed. Neither option sounds pleasant to me.

I'm starting to feel insecure about joining him in a watery grave, and I really should move to the woods. My food supply for the last week, small brown rabbits, is dwindling. Their numbers have decreased dramatically in the last few days. I haven't even seen one since yesterday, and there's only a couple of hours left until nightfall.

My other vital supply, water, is becoming an issue too. I've been using a small bottle of iodine solution to treat the water, but due to the appalling quality of the standing water, I've been going through more iodine than I anticipated. I'll run out soon, unless I find a cleaner water source, and quickly.

So I'm covering the ground slowly yet steadily towards the pine forest. In the forest, there will be less standing water due to the canopy, which will aid movement, and there should still be some squirrels in the branches of the pines. Food shouldn't be an issue anymore.

However, I will have to deal with the Careers. Both from District 1, the boys from Two and Four. The girl from District 2 was killed off at the cornucopia bloodbath, back when our feet were in contact with solid, non-waterlogged ground. A luxury which we can no longer obtain.

The girl from Four died three or four days ago, and I've no idea why. I haven't seen the Careers since the first day. I've always assumed that they would stick to the woods, and after nine days in the grasslands without spotting them, I think I was right.

I don't like the woods; plenty of obstacles, things to trip you, plants and trees to sneak up on someone unsuspectingly. I'll have to be on my guard constantly once I'm in the woods. Well, I'm always on guard now, but I can't afford to slip up in the woods at all. I'd guess that at least seven of the ten remaining tributes have taken to the woods.

And as the arena fades to darkness, which usually offers me a chill, plentiful paranoia and if I'm lucky, there might be a couple of hours of sleep. But tonight, I need to get into the woods.

There are no landmarks in the grassland (or should I say mudland? There's so much of the stuff underfoot) so it feels like I'm getting nowhere. Or maybe I'm really moving that slowly. Ugh. This is really messing with my head.

I'll just keep my head down and half-walk, half-wade through the standing water and mud. It's tiring; the lack of decent footing is straining my ankles and it's starting to hurt. Soon I might-

Oh, no.

Looking up, I've spotted someone. Fifty yards in front of me, wading around nearer the woods. They look to be about fourteen or fifteen, and in the gloom of the rain, I can't fathom their identity. But they are armed, I can see the mace in their left hand. As long as they don't-

They turned round.

There's nowhere to hide, and I can't go for a silent escape, because of all the mud and water. Too noisy. I'm absolutely certain that whoever this boy is, he's spotted me. Not a Career; he's too lightly built. But from looking at the faces in the sky, the boys from Districts 3, 6, and 11 are still alive. As well as the Career males, of course. Could it be a Career, hunting on their own whilst the others prepare a camp? Or could it be a Career who has left the pack behind, and split from the alliance? Maybe my first look at him misjudged him, and actually I've got a trained killer hot on my heels?

I can hear splashing behind me, and I know that they are in pursuit. I have to keep going.

After what feels like eternity, I find ground that is slightly less giving, and turn back to assess the situation.
The boy who I can now identify as the boy from District 1- it was a Career- is only five yards behind me. He's no physical wonder like Amadeus Cato, last year's victor, who won the Games in twenty-two hours, but this boy looks stronger and better-trained than I am. And he's armed.

I have nowhere to turn. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

The blond-haired boy lunges for me with his mace, but I dodge to the right to escape his blow. Being taller and heavier than me, the boy- I don't even know his name- has enough momentum in him to topple and collapse into the mud with a tremendous splash, covering me in muddy water. It'll take him a minute to get back up, and that gives me time to evade the Career.

I guess I've travelled twenty yards when the cries for help begin. Worried but curious, I slowly return to the boy.
When I arrive where he fell, the boy is face-down in the mud. He's coughing and spluttering, desperately trying to keep his head above water.

I had expected scenes like this from the moment I was reaped, but actually seeing them is still a massive shock. I stare at the boy, who looks like he is slowly being pulled under, absolutely stunned.

I could save this boy. I should save this boy. Nobody deserves this death. Actually, nobody of this age deserves death, no matter who they are.

But this is the Hunger Games. In the arena, it's kill or be killed. And two minutes ago, this boy was trying to kill me.

I force myself to look away rather than watch the boy from District 1 get dragged under.


The 9th Annual Hunger Games lasted eighteen days. As the Games wore on, the marshy land that made up the majority of the arena became more and more inhospitable, and four more tributes drowned in the mud by the fifteenth day, when Jared joined the three surviving Careers in the forests for the finale of the Games. With everyone fighting on their own, the four-way battle on the eighteenth day had never been seen before. The boys from Districts 2 and 4 killed each other off early in the fight, but not before injuring the girl from District 1.

With this disadvantage, the girl from One was evenly matched with Jared from District 5, who was armed with a cumbersome sword that had been dropped by the boy from District 1 a week ago in the marsh. Eventually stamina was the deciding factor in the bout, swinging the momentum in the favour of Jared, who was crowned the victor of the 9th Annual Hunger Games.