If he was being honest, he was proud of himself. Truthfully proud, which he did not ever recall being. Not like this.
Surviving the bloodbath was a challenge in itself. Making it through the first night, impressive. But to survive four days without allies, nor more than a single backpack of supplies? That was a feat if you were anybody.
Twice so, for a twelve year old.
Arthur Benton was indeed a twelve year old tribute. In fact he was the only one in the Games that year. Morbid though it was, surviving when older kids had died filled him with a sense of accomplishment. Everybody always said 'poor helpless, stupid, tiny kids,' or on television, which meant in the Capitol, they were regarded as poor choices due to dying fast and providing no entertainment.
Well here he was, entertaining them all on day four! Mostly he had escaped unnoticed but he was sure the couple of close calls he had were captivating enough for the audience.
Arthur had found water via a small but quick moving river and purified it with tablets from his bag. Food had come from his bag too and although he was weaponless, he had set up a few makeshift snares. The dense tropical forest he was in (he knew it had a specific name but that escaped him) was fascinating so he was eager to explore more of the area surrounding the spot he called his camp. Thick and lush, it had looked incredible at first - and so green compared to his own grey district; six - but now the humidity and huge leaves yawning over him at all times gave him a headache.
Given how low his rations had gotten it was imperative that he find something else to fill up on, so Arthur had begun a trek through the thick undergrowth and towering trees of the arena. Now he reflected on his success as he walked, still being mindful of his surroundings.
His wavy blond hair swayed as he walked, somehow not entirely frizzed in the humid atmosphere. It had not rained in the arena but everyday was so thick with humidity Arthur kept expecting it. Although a bit muddy, pockmarked from being bug-bitten, and scuffed up in spots, Arthur was not too badly off considering his circumstances.
An indiscernible low moan-like sound caused him to hunch down, receding in on himself to appear smaller. Arthur positioned himself against a tree to further hide his bodily form, all while listening more attentively.
It was less of a moan and more a grumble like nothing he had ever heard before, now that he really stopped to listen.
The peculiar noises continued for a moment, growing louder. There was a lackadaisical quality to them and whatever it was, it did not sound hurt nor on the hunt. In fact the latest noise out of the creature sounded similar to a loud bark of a yawn. Growing more curious, Arthur pokes his head around the side of the tree. Was it a wolf or a dog? All he wanted was to see it, then he would scarper.
That was the plan.
What he saw brought a leap of joy. It was no mutt but something he had seen only once in a book. The natural, unadulterated animal walked on four graceful legs with a long, lazily swishing tail. Curved, slightly small looking ears twitched and the creature turned its head towards Arthur. What a pretty color it was too!
Now that it was facing towards him, Arthur spotted a plethora of slim white protruding from the animal's muzzle. With a grin he remembered they were called whiskers. Such a graceful creature! It turned its body, angling towards Arthur, and sloped along at a nonchalant, regal meander towards him. The plan to leave quickly was now forgotten.
The fur of the creature was rather bright compared to the coats of dogs back home. So unique, kind of like if someone turned brown down and intensified it at the same time. The way it slunk along with undulating muscles made him audibly murmur in awe. "Wow."
The four legged creature continued to lope gracefully along and Arthur bent his knees and leaned forward a little with a welcoming smile. "I think you're a tabby, and a big boy at that." Arthur surveyed the slowly approaching creature while extending his open palmed hand.
They were harmless, docile, and domestic. Honestly it was rather larger and more majestic looking compared to what he had heard. One of the other tributes he spoke to in training had one as a pet and said they were cute but this animal was just plain pretty.
"Who's a good, big boy?" Arthur encouraged the animal over warmly. Most districts had them but not Arthur's and he had always wanted to see one.
The feline approached and for the first time its ears swiveled as if suddenly pinned back. It's mouth opened, letting forth a surprisingly intimidating hiss that rattled him a little.
"Nice kitty..." Arthur nervously offered while taking a cautious step back as his brows knit together in confusion.
A moment later it was lunging, gleaming fangs prominently barred and thrust forward. Arthur cried out and stumbled backwards.
He hollered, but the tiger didn't let him go.
Eeney, meany, miney, moe.
