This one ended up longer, just because it came out easier.
Enobaria Jager- District Two (18)
It was weird to me that I was two years older than my mother when I went into the Arena. Mama was just sixteen, and despite the fact that she lived and breathed for the Games, she actually wasn't a volunteer. Hardly anyone remembered that anymore. They just remembered the silver-clawed animal that tore the Games apart. It was so weird that I was older than my mother was back then.
She saw me off as I stepped into the tubes. There was a quick hug, her standing on her toes as I bent over to fit into her arms, and it was time to go. There wasn't a speck of fear in her eyes as I rose out of sight. But that was to be expected. I would be coming back to her, and there was nothing for her to worry about. I was born a hunter.
The fox and the lioness were talking one day about birth among their species. "Foxes can have as many as six cubs in a litter," the fox boasted. "How many do lions have?"
"One," said the lion. And when the fox began to smile, she added, "But that one is a lion."
The Arena reached my cheeks before it reached my eyes. Hot, acrid air seared my skin, and I had to force my eyes not to squint. No sun reached us from overhead, but the light from the molten lava more than lit the scene. Rivers and pools of liquid stone illuminated more distant parts of the Arena, glowing eerily from twisting paths and tunnels.
In the center of the ring of platforms, there was a recessed pool of lava. Around it were strewn the supplies, gaining more and more value the farther down the slope they were and the closer to the lava. To get the best weapons and tools, a Tribute would be mere feet from molten stone, so close I wasn't sure the body could bear it.
I didn't need weapons to kill people, but I still intended to go for supplies. Mama wasn't going to send me anything. She hadn't said it, but I saw it in the set of her mouth and the expectant appraisal in her eyes when I left.
When the gong sounded, I ran into the lava, along with the braver Tributes. Blasting heat and stinging dust assaulted us, and many turned back. When a boy ran up alongside me, I grabbed his collar and threw him forward. He landed facefirst in the lava, and the sizzle was almost louder than his short scream. The smell of prey filled the air.
Only the dead and the bravest reached the very edge of the lava. I picked up the forearm-length gutting knife by its handle, avoiding the hot metal blade. As I ran back up, I gutted a girl who ventured too far, and I heard her blood boil when it reached the lava.
I hunted three people that first day. The first night, I hunted two more. Sometimes, when I heard them fleeing before me and knew they were about to hit the dead end, I howled.
The other Careers feared me. I saw it in their whispers and their averted gazes. They disgusted me. Born hunters, and they showed such fear. I left that night on a hunt, and it wasn't outliers I stalked. They died like prey and they bled like prey, facedown on the ground with five points of a throwing star in the backs of their heads.
Only one eluded me. Prodigy was as clever as he was deadly. For nearly two weeks I hunted the boy from One. Now and then I would hear a cannon, and I would nod in respect. When we finally met, I felt more excitement than I'd known since the Bloodbath.
We were deep in a cavern, barely able to see each other from the light glowing from fissures in the walls. Sparks flew as knife met sword, drawing blood and screams from both parties. Heaving and panting, two Tributes circled each other.
I thrust my knife. Prodigy moved swiftly, and the blade clashed with the stone of the tunnel. The metal, weakened by heat and sparring, snapped. Prodigy sized up this fortunate turn of events, and that was his downfall, for when my weapon broke, I had no fear, only gratification. I was about to win the Games with nothing but my hunter's body.
While the flicker of realization was still entering Prodigy's eyes, I was coming at him. I hit him dead center, our bodies pressed together. How he squealed when my thumbs hooked into his eyes! How he screamed when the soft tissue gave under my fingers and they slid from the sockets! And oh the noises he made when my teeth
Tearing ripping snapping crunching pulling breaking
hit his throat!
The cannon.
The sound of the cannon.
I crouched over the form. There was a hunter in the Arena, a hunter and a prey. My fingers were wet with the juices. My hair fell across his face, clotted with white, crackling tissue. My mouth fell open in a smile as blood ran from my hunter's teeth. I was the hunter, the cub of the lioness.
Here we see what happens when you're raised by Pray Jager.
In a stunning display of innovation, the Gamemakers somehow made lava that completely defies all laws of heat convection.
Wow, this one turned out a little... R-rated. Enobaria's actually pretty friendly outside the Arena. She only kills people she's allowed to kill, you know?