Crag Steiner, District Two (18)
Two to go. After the split Tsu and I were the only Careers left. His face was in the sky two days ago, and I assumed either a mutt or dehydration took him out. This Arena was to place for a boy from Four. The thin scrub and dusty ground was only interrupted by a few towering cacti. If it wasn't for my sponsors I never would have lasted this long.
This year would no doubt go down in history as one of the single most brutal Games. From the dehydration that plagued us from the start, the scorching midday heat, the bizarre and unnatural dog things that snapped at our heels, only the strongest lasted more than a few days. It wasn't long before only the Career pack and three outliers were left. I took out all the Careers except Tsu, and the rest were next.
One nice thing about the Arena was that it was hard to hide. When the sun was beating down and temperatures soared, most Tributes sought out any shade they could find. I would have been glad for a respite too, but with the sunscreen a particularly thoughtful sponsor had sent, I was able to stand the conditions and continue my hunt. A few more days and I could be home again.
I saw a towering cactus in the distance. Its shadow was behind it, and I knew what I'd find. Sure enough, I heard a scuffle as whoever was lying in the shade heard me coming and took off. I saw its reddened skin as it ran, kicking up dust behind it.
I held out my mace as I ran after the figure. I didn't spend much time running at the Academy. I mostly trained with my mace and practiced close combat. Unfortunately for my prey, there was hardly a drop of water in the Arena. I had my sponsors to keep me cool, but my victim might not have drunk for hours, and that was enough out here.
It was child's play for me to run close enough to swing my mace at the figure's legs. It tumbled to the ground and I saw it was a boy. His fair skin was peeling and raw, and his blue eyes were streaming with sunlight and tears. He screamed as my mace shattered his leg and he held up his hands in supplication.
"No, please!" he begged. His voice was high and thin. He sounded like he was six years old. I couldn't imagine how someone so frail had lived this long. His luck wasn't going to last. I held my mace up over his head.
"No!" the boy pleaded. He threw his arms over his head and pressed his head to the ground.
I ignored his whimpers and brought the mace down. There was a wet crunch like rotting fruit as I slew the boy with one blow. It was just business. I was a Career, and that was what I did. His cannon went off and I moved one. One to go.
I ain't got a clue what Crag looks like. Ethnicity, appearance, and aura are entirely up to the reader.