Page Milani, District Eight
The brittle roots nicked my hands as I braided the strands into a rope. I wouldn't have thought a canyon would have so much greenery. The roots must reach all the way to the trees on the top of the cliffs.
It wasn't easy to learn to kill someone in a week. Lucky for me, I showed some natural aptitude for the spear, and that was an easy weapon to make. My handmade spear lay behind me in my little rock cave as I fashioned my rope. The mental part of killing was easier for me, and I didn't want to think about what that meant. I told myself that twenty-three of us had to die anyway, so it didn't matter who killed them. I'd already killed one, a girl who tried to stab me with a dagger as I ran from the Cornucopia. We tumbled to the ground and scrabbled at each other. My fingers closed around a rock and I brought it against her head. She crumpled against me, and I got a dagger. I was one of the oldest Tributes this year, since I was eighteen, but I wasn't big enough to kill anyone with a dagger. It was great for sharpening a stick, though.
My crevice was nice and cool, but when I looked down at the canyon floor, I knew these Games couldn't last long. Anyone who didn't have water would be dead in two days. I wasn't safe, either. The trickles of water from the stone ceiling above me would keep me alive for a week, but I'd be out of the fight long before that. I tested the tip of my spear and pulled on my rope. They were ready. I began gouging a hole in the handle of my spear. Little shavings of wood fluttered to the ground. It was like digging a hole with a spoon, but finally it was done. I teased the rope through the hole and tied it. Now if I missed I could reel it in and try again. When I held the finished product, I couldn't help but smile. I'd made a needle and thread. Of course.
I crouched at the mouth of my cave and waited. I was only ten or so feet off the ground, but many of the Tributes seemed reluctant to climb the rough walls. The boy from Seven was probably already at the top. The girl would be too if she hadn't gotten an axe through the chest at the Cornucopia. It took until near dark for the first Tribute to walk by. The rope wasn't even necessary. I didn't miss.
I didn't mention it in the POV, since people don't generally think about something so basic, but Page is of Italian descent (surprise, right?) and has Mediterranean features. It was also a coincidence that she made a needle and thread. I didn't even think about it until I was about to finish the chapter.