Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

When I woke up, I felt really, really tired. Every muscle was aching and I could barely get my eyes open. How was I even gonna get on a killing spree if I couldn't even stumble out of bed?

There was a neatly ironed outfit laid out on my bed and a suspicious part of me wondered who had even gotten three inches away from me while I was asleep. I shrugged it off- plenty of time to feel that way later- and took in the outfit.

It was crisp in the way that new clothes were, smelling like detergent. Fur lined the inside of the jacket, along with thick pants, socks, and tight-fitting boots. The shirt underneath was almost a sweater.

This gave me a major hint of where we would all be ending up. I was sure it had to be someplace freezing cold, and that made me a bit disconcerted because Four had always been hot. I had only experienced snow a couple times before, and not much of it.

I put on the clothes, feeling really hot indeed, and ate a quick breakfast, my stomach churning. Alright, I was nervous, I would admit that. I wanted a knife in my hand to make me feel safer.

I didn't speak to anyone and if I did, it would probably turn out wrong one way or another. All my wits had fled from me now and I struggled to re-obtain them. Swallowing, I, with the rest of my group, was shoved onto a helicopter, and we were off.

I paced around, palms sweating, fingers grasping at nothing, while Algar gazed at the ground darkly. I summoned the killer inside me and eventually it grew- sort of unwillingly, though. The urge to prove myself stoked the flame, and I watched it grow, doing nothing to try and stop it.

"Azurine." My head snapped up as my mentor spoke. "Good luck."

I bit my lip and nodded curtly.

It seemed like forever that we were encapsulated in this helicopter, its constant vibrating making me even more anxious. I just wanted to get this over with. Why must this all be so slow?

Finally the helicopter began to drop, and I steadied myself on the wall, my stomach flipping. I wasn't much of a fan of flying, that was for sure.

We walked out in single file and into a warm building. It made me incredibly sweaty, coupled with my jacket, and I considered taking it off for a second.

But no. I would not let myself feel even more vulnerable.

We padded along a skinny tunnel that led underground and had clear prints my boots sank into. The tunnel twisted and turned like a snake, trying to throw me off as we took different paths, once the second, another time to the left, then the right, right, right, left...

We were there.

I could tell because there were clear tubes that was just enough to fit a person. A couple holes were in the roof and a podium-like object was placed just below. I knew immediately that this was where I would be instructed to stand when the countdown began.

A man wearing a white coat that smelled bad took a tool with a needle tip and inserted it into my skin. It hurt but I was completely numb to the pain. I couldn't feel it anymore. I couldn't feel anything, not with the blood roaring in my ears. He did the same with Algar.

Tracker, I thought. That was the thing they would use to track us.

Before I knew it, I was being ushered onto one of the podium-like stools. I stood above everyone else, feeling high and mighty just for a second. Algar was right next to me, hands firmly clasped behind his back, brow creased. I stood tensely.

Slowly but surely, the podium began to rise. I imagined that somehow I would fall, but it did not happen- my boots grabbed at the ground and clung on to it for dear life. We went higher and higher, and suddenly a cold wind began to ruffle my hair. I zipped my jacket all the way up but it did nothing to help the relentless cold. My face was lashed at bitterly.

Algar found himself to the right of me, and he was already in escapist mode. One foot was planted before the other in a running pose. His face was filled with determination. Was he planning to run away from the tributes? I found it highly infuriating and promised myself that if I saw him trying to do such a thing, I would kill him if I had to. Not when he knew so much about us, no, he would not be alive, alone.

He must've seen me because he gritted his teeth. He didn't turn his head, but his eyes followed my glare. Clenching his fists, he fixed his gaze back ahead.

Ten...

The sound came out of nowhere and I was startled for an instant. But I knew it was going to happen, sooner or later. I kept my face calm and composed.

Nine...

I scanned the wide circle, the ring of tributes. I could recognize Zahava to my left, then Cornell, Persefone, and Jackson(Jax). To Algar's right, was Murray, Dahlia, Mark, and Mica.

Eight...

I could squint across the circle, across the mound of supplies and the golden, shiny Cornucopia, the turn of Twyla's neck, her red hair spilling out across her back. Beside her was the distant shape of Tyler, his red hair quite obvious.

Seven...

I looked around for any knives and found one pretty quickly. It was small and light and good for throwing.

Six...

A tension flew through the air.

Five...

I was dying, literally dying. Sweat was all over my otherwise neat hair. The cold was getting to my bones, making my teeth chatter. I sank into a running position.

Four...

I wondered who the cameras were focused on now. Hopefully not me.

Three...

I imagined everyone at home watching the TVs right now. Were they disappointed in me already? No, they couldn't be. I had tried so hard. I would prove myself now, to my terribly sexist parents.

Two...

I realized there was only a couple seconds before lives would be thrown away, just like that. I hid my face to keep from feeling a stab of sympathy. I honestly didn't care about the other tributes that much, but this one percent of me hung on still.

One...

Then I thought about Aden. Aden, my best friend, my ally and opponent in the academy. Who I loved, however much my fierce-tempered heart would not accept it. A cold rush of anger drove through my veins, stealing my breath away. I would win this for him. He had tried convincing me to volunteer, which was a bit exasperating but I still would not give up the hope. I might've thrown away the chance to be with him, just by meeting his wishes, but at least I could die with some pride.

Kaboom.

An explosion filled the air. The smell of ash crept under my nose.

But I was ready. Poised like a brilliant snake, I ran as soon as they ended the word zero.

Rowan Loranger (D8 Male)

I saw Lace, directly next to me, get blown to bits. It was definitely a bad start to my Games. Definitely enough to make some regular person feel sick. I smelled nauseating burnt flesh.

But I was not a regular person. I refused to be. I did not let myself get distracted like some of the other tributes, and instead, when the speaker sounded, I was totally ready. Only half the people took off, the rest were trying to see if Lace was dead or not. Wow, these people were seriously more concerned with someone else's life than their own. And I didn't mean I was heartless- just that they had to have at least some balance of priorities.

I need to go home.

Home. That was where I was meant to be. That was where I was meant to stay.

Home. Such a wonderful word. I yearned for it now, even as I for the games to begin, so that I could secure my place as victor.

My eyes hardened. None of these other people deserved to be victor. Only me. A flicker of regret tortured me, but I quickly swatted it down. Nothing would stop me from surviving.

I clenched my fists as the numbers ticked down. Seconds until all our lives would be at risk.

All twenty-three of us, now that Lace was dead.

ZERO!

The sound was amazing. I dashed out onto the icy land, ignoring the cold. Nothing, nothing could stop me. I would do anything to survive.

This chant repeated itself inside my head as I vaulted over some dead tribute- I didn't know who though- and risked a glance behind. Just to make sure I was still humane and still cared for others' lives.

It was Zahava Doita.

I almost froze. I had known her a bit during training, and she had been that enthusiastic, cheerful, optimistic girl, the one who was always nice to everyone. I felt a pang of loss, just like that. The Games had only been going on for like five seconds and she was already dead.

I glanced behind her to surely where her killer was, at the same time identifying stab marks on her back. Elisabeth was panting from a few feet behind her, eyes widened in trembling fear. Her hands gripped two daggers, each covered in crimson blood. She was standing beside Twyla Zahavyin.

I almost forgot they were my allies.

I ignored the fact that they were standing in front of a dead tribute and greeted them cautiously. Twyla nodded stiffly and Elisabeth's eyes widened guiltily.

Twyla's eyes narrowed. "C'mon," she said with a flick of her fingers. "Get a weapon or two- we'll meet you...over there." She pointed to the thin line of trees a long run away.

I dipped my head and they took off, picking up various things from the ground as they went, Twyla especially seeming eager to get out of there. I looked for a sword and quickly found one. It had a sharp, broad blade, with a handle that curved to fit the shape of the wrist perfectly. Some guy hurtled toward me but I easily dodged out of the way, landing a kick to his stomach for good measure. Without seeing who it was, I followed the girls in the direction of the forest.

It took a long while and dehydration was beginning to take the place of what used to be energy. I stopped, panting, and sat on a log, wiping sweat off my forehead. I could see my allies a little ways ahead of me, tiny dots on the horizon, about three-fourths the way there.

I sighed, and got back up. My will to survive was overpowering, and if I didn't do anything, I would feel like I wasn't trying at all. Breaking into a jog again, I fought to preserve my strength as I ran toward the forest.

I ached for water so badly it felt like a monster might as well be on my tongue. I gasped in as much air as I could get but it wasn't enough- the run was too tiring. But I couldn't stop- not yet. I continued on, even when my muscles burned and my head began to droop. The sun started slipping down the sky, its once-powerful papaya-colored rays weakening. I felt exactly like the sun- getting weaker and weaker the longer the day passed.

I was now over three-fourths the way there, and I could see the trees clearly. It was a bare, scrawny forest, filled with trees covered in no leaves whatsoever, their branches easily tearing off and whacking other branches in all sorts of directions. There was a sense of disorder here, of misery in the wind howling and closeness in the way the trees made a maze.

I took my sword and cut off a piece of old, roughened bark from one of the trees scattered in the snow nearby. With that, I tried bending it, but the brittleness of the bark caused it to snap immediately. I sighed. I had been wanting to make some sort of holder for my sword so I wouldn't have to hold it all day.

That was to be expected, I supposed. The bark did look rather old- though everything was still worth a try.

I walked the rest of the way, too tired to run, fatigue turning every limb to stone and making me go slow as a snail. My feet felt like they couldn't take it any longer, and the sweat combined with the cold air around felt almost hot.

Finally, I made it. I had to drag myself there, but at least I could touch the trees of the forest, at least now I had some hope of surviving. I saw Twyla with her arms folded nearby, next to Elisabeth, who was sweating profusely.

Twyla covered her scratches involuntarily, then realized I still knew they were there and let her arms drop to her sides. She looked at me for a moment, sharp and bright and as if there was no tiredness at all in her muscles. Energy sparked from her, determination the coal of the flame. My will to survive powered on, but it was way less than the fire she carried.

Somehow, I had already adapted to the cold wintry land. With that long run, I had bound my spirit to this place and I felt I could never look at a hot summer the same way again.

"So," Twyla said slowly, "we better find someplace to retire for the night."

Elisabeth nodded beside her. I knew they were both alike in some ways- like how they had both had a stepmother who abused them. Now, I could see why they would've chosen to be allies. Knowing what one felt like must feel good in a time like this.

I raised my hand and suggested, "How about in a tree?"

"A tree?" Twyla looked up with contemplative eyes as Elisabeth shook her head.

"No, that wouldn't work," she said quietly, her gaze downcast. "The branches are too easy to snap. If we put the slightest bit of pressure on one, I bet we'll fall, plus also there are no leaves to keep us from being seen."

I tipped my head, thinking. "So where should we make camp, then?"

"I have an idea," Twyla put in doubtfully. "We could go..into the snow."

"Bury ourselves alive?" I raised my eyebrows, but she plunged on.

"No, not bury ourselves alive- you really know me, don't you?" she rolled her eyes sarcastically. "We could sleep against the roots of a tree, and since I managed to get a sleeping bag, that'll go on top of us. There will still be those little holes on top of the fabric to breathe through."

"That's way too obvious." Even Elisabeth expressed her doubt.

"We'll cover that in snow. It'll look just like another random lump of it," Twyla added.

"Will that be enough to cover the whole thing?" I inquired curiously.

"Hopefully. Let's give it a try." Twyla spread out the sleeping bag and grabbed a handful of snow from the ground. With that, she piled it on top. It wasn't the kind of snow that was sprinkly and thin- it was the hard, packed in, lumpy snow, which worked in our favor. It easily covered up the sleeping bag and made it look like just another shapeless lump.

"The sleeping bag will be enough insulation against the snow- hopefully," Twyla explained.

"That still doesn't solve the problem of breathing," I insisted. "It's not gonna work."

"Wait, let's try it first," Elisabeth piped up. She clambered between the folds of the sleeping bag and ducked in. A few seconds later, she popped her head back out. "If you left your head high enough, it creates a pocket of air!"

"That's great!" Twyla said enthusiastically, her eyes lightening. She asked, "Can we all fit in there?"

I cringed. "Wait, so I have to be in there too. Excuse me, but I'm not gonna feel comfortable."

"Oh, relax! We're in the Hunger Games fighting for our lives and you're worried about feeling comfortable?!" Twyla exclaimed. When she put it like this, it did make a little sense. I caved in; the girls' intense stares was definitely not helping.

"Fine," I muttered.

Elisabeth smiled, "Great! Now we have a plan for tonight."

My spirits lifted slightly. It was good to know the feeling of victory when everything else was going so wrong. Well, it wasn't exactly victory...it was more like, relief. Relief that we had a plan at last, and that we had managed to agree despite our many differences.

Oblivious to us all, deep in the woods, leaves crunched beneath booted feet.

Someone was coming.

10/21/2017

A/N: Prepare for a lot of deaths next chapter!