Arena 'Day' 2


LAURA ACKERMAN (13)

DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE


Laura couldn't shake off the awkwardness that simmered through her veins.

She sat on a fallen log, gently stoking a small flame that crackled ever so peacefully, dancing elegantly in the wispy breeze that rustled the trees around her. Over the past couple of hours or so, the arena's temperature had dropped, forcing them to make camp in a darker part of the forest where the thicker treeline sheltered them from the howling winds beyond. Even still, her legs quivered, her teeth chattering as she rubbed her hands to maintain a modicum of warmth.

But that was far from the worst of it all.

Sitting across from her on a damp piece of cloth was Ceri. Ceri had barely spoken a word to her since the Bloodbath, heck, she'd barely even made eye contact with her. Every time Laura tried to offer her food or water, she would avert her gaze, hunching her shoulders and lowering her head in a bid to avoid Laura. Laura rolled her eyes, her eyes trailing towards the sleeping figure of Jotham mere steps away from them. Laura hadn't missed the fact that Ceri had positioned herself close to Jotham, to the point where her foot was practically touching the back of his head. Had Laura not been there, Laura was certain Ceri would be stroking Jotham's hair by now, sweetly uttering some choice saccharin words in his ear in a forlorn attempt at an arena romance.

She's dumb for thinking that way.

Laura was certain Ceri disliked her for being more chummy with Jotham, as though Laura was a competitor, some sort of antagonist in her grand love story of doomed courtship. Even when Laura slid a small chunk of bread over by Jotham's side, she could feel Ceri's hawk-like stare glaring at her. She was literally breathing down on Laura's neck throughout the brief interaction.

Ridiculous.

She sighed. Perhaps it was time to confront Ceri head-on about this. She should, after all, be the mature one in this foolish little squabble. "Look, Ceri, I know you like Jotham."

Ceri's eyes darted up at her, and for the first time in the arena, seemed to actually regard her as a living organism and not a mere figment of her imagination. "I do not," she insisted, haughtily crossing her arms and giving Laura a pointed stare. "Fuck off and leave me alone," she spat. Yet, she couldn't hide the tiny blush creeping across her cheeks.

"You know it's true. But whatever, look, I'm not going to stand in your way if you want to snuggle with him or anything, just, leave me out of this, okay?" Laura implored, keeping her tone calm and collected even as Ceri eyed her warily.

"I-, well…"

Before Ceri could respond, Jotham began to stir. He stifled a small yawn as he slowly rose, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Gosh, how long have I been asleep?" he murmured.

"It's fine, you deserve some rest," Ceri cooed, her tone quickly shifting to a more caring one.

"Ceri's right," Laura added. "There, have some bread. Give yourself a bit of strength. We might need to move ahead before the Gamemakers force us to."

Jotham blinked uncertainly as he nibbled on the bread. "But it's only been, what, half a day maybe? I don't know, I doubt they'll shoo us away this quickly."

Laura shrugged. "Maybe you're right, we can wait here a little longer then. Ceri's been taking good care of you, by the way, she made sure you slept soundly through the night. She even gave you her jacket when you were shivering and hummed a damn good lullaby for you!"

Silence. Jotham froze, his bread halfway into his mouth as he stared at Laura, his face unreadable in the darkness. Ceri's face was flush with red, her eyes wild with sheer and utter panic. 'Wha-" Jotham uttered.

"Oh, the anthem played some time ago, that's how I know the night's passed," Laura said nonchalantly.

Jotham opened his mouth to inquire further, then closed it again. He turned to Ceri, who was still blushing furiously. "Erm, thanks, Ceri." He flashed an awkward smile, one that Ceri returned all too eagerly.

As Jotham continued to eat, Laura glanced at Ceri, whose attention was now squarely on Laura. The tension was still evidently palpable, but Ceri's gaze had softened slightly. Maybe she was starting to see sense, Laura could only hope.

"Anyone died while I was asleep?" Jotham asked.

"Ashton from Six," Laura replied. "The Careers probably got to him. It's been dead silent apart from his cannon, though, so I doubt they're anywhere near us at the moment."

Jotham grimaced. "Still, I didn't think they'd catch someone so quickly. I thought it would've taken them at least a full day before they caught up to anyone."

"Maybe it was a nighttime ambush," Laura pointed out. "Speaking of ambushes, we might want to consider doing a few of those ourselves."

Jotham gaped at her. Laura gritted her teeth. She knew Jotham wouldn't have approved of such an idea. He was too nice for that sort of stuff. But this was the Hunger Games. It was either hunt or be hunted. And Laura didn't want to be a sitting duck waiting for the slaughter.

Not anymore.

"Are you saying," he muttered slowly. "We should… kill people?"

Laura gave a nonchalant shrug. "Maybe. We have to take advantage of our numbers and besides, we're not gaining any sponsors by just sitting here and relaxing. If we're going to make it out of here before the elements start to really kick in, we have to take the initiative."

"I, for one, agree with Laura," Ceri piped up.

Laura blinked.

Well, that's a surprise.

But then again, Ceri did seem like the type to itch for some action. And she was a decent fighter, from what Laura had observed. No match in hand-to-hand combat with a stronger tribute, of course, but with the element of surprise, she could pull it off.

Seeing Ceri back her up though, was a bit of a shock, to say the least.

"Ceri, you can't seriously think-" Jotham started but Ceri cut him off.

"We can get to those motherfuckers first before they get to us. Lay a few traps for them, sneak up on them, at the very least steal their supplies or something, I don't fucking know," Ceri retorted. "But we have to act soon."

Jotham bit his lip. "I think we should let them wear themselves out first. I know you want us to strike before the arena conditions strike us, but if we can keep ourselves well-fed and hydrated, they might get an infection or be starved to extreme exhaustion, or they might get hypothermia in this weather. It'll probably be better for us then. So, I think we should wait a week or so. But anyway, let's talk about something less depressing, shall we?"

Laura could tell by the uncertainty in his voice that he was trying to stall them, to put any talk of this plan to kill others aside for as long as he could.

For now, she was fine with that.

But sooner or later, Jotham had to realise that no one had ever won the Hunger Games without turning into a murderer.


ITHACA EMORY (18)

DISTRICT THREE FEMALE


Ithaca couldn't shake the feeling that something was up ahead.

Perhaps it was her excellent intuition. Perhaps it was her on the cusp of going mad. But something in her chest drove her forward, beckoning her to explore and follow a trail of fireflies swarming ahead, off on their own little escapades beyond the world of the Hunger Games.

"And you're sure they aren't leading us into a trap?" Persey asked warily, jogging to keep up with her quicker strides.

"Positive. They wouldn't make a trap this obvious. Whenever there's a trail, tributes usually steer clear thinking it's leading to danger, when in most cases I've analysed, it actually leads to something valuable up ahead. So, I would predict there is something that will be very beneficial for us at the end of this firefly trail," Ithaca deduced.

Persey nodded, still looking very much unconvinced, but he didn't object.

Which was great, because people who objected to her were wrong 99% of the time.

And Ithaca wasn't going to entertain that remaining 1% possibility.

Not now.

In the distance, she could hear the faint yet unmistakable gurgling of water. Something else was glowing bright yellow, perhaps the entrance to a secret level of the arena, or maybe even a treasure trove filled with supplies and weapons they could use to become utterly invincible. She licked her lips in eager anticipation. "Right there, we've got something."

Persey frowned. "Ugh, this better be good. It's like reading a horror story in braille, I can feel something bad's about to happen."

Ithaca stifled a groan. Now was not the time for puns. But now also wasn't the time to get into disputes over petty little things like Persey's horrific comedic timing.

As they trudged closer, the glow grew brighter, the sound of churning rapids rising to a deafening roar, until, pushing past a thick pile of branches, Ithaca spotted it.

She gasped. "Oh my…"

There in front of her were three rivers, each a brilliant, shimmering shade of yellow, casting a divine luminescence upon the otherwise shadowy world around it. The first river shone like liquid amber, not too different in hue from the amber specimens she'd collected for studying back home in Three. It had a gentle current, its surface calm as ever, almost as though the water was perfectly still. The second river was a darker shade of yellow, a deep, golden colour, and bubbled, as though it was being affected by some sort of seismic activity underneath its currents. The third river was the brightest, dazzling so brilliantly Ithaca had to squint and shield her eyes whenever she looked at it. It was also the strongest, its current roaring and crashing heavily upon the huge, jagged rocks dotting its banks.

"Whoa," Persey breathed, coming up to stand next to her on a rocky outcropping.

"Whoa indeed," Ithaca mumbled. She still felt unbelievably drawn to the rivers, like the mist that rose from them was emanating some otherworldly energy. The third river's roaring rapids almost had a voice in her ears, like it was beckoning her forth with untold mysteries of its depths being whispered amidst the crashing and churns of the waters, if she could only listen more carefully, she might hear them.

It's all just a trick in my head, she told herself.

But what really interested her was the tower beyond the three rivers. It was a tall, round structure, with a good vantage platform at the top. Not to mention, it was surrounded by a small garden with what looked like a wide array of fruits and vegetables.

The perfect campsite.

Only problem was, they had to cross the rivers first.

"Should we try making it across?" Persey asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

Ithaca shrugged. "We can test the waters first before going in. But if at any point the river gets too deep, then we turn back. I don't want us to drown or get our clothes too wet."

Persey nodded and the pair went down to the bank of the first river. Ithaca grabbed a small tree branch and dipped it into the water. When she took it out, the tree branch seemed fine, there wasn't even a yellow stain on it.

"Okay, I'll go in first," Ithaca decided.

She took a deep breath.

Shit, this is a bad idea.

Slowly, she put a foot into the river and waited. Nothing happened to her shoe, nor did anything happen to her ankle, which was ever so barely touching the water. The river was surprisingly warm, a fresh respite from the chilly arena. She put her other foot into the water. Again, nothing happened. She took a step forward, wading deeper into the river. The riverbed was muddy, and she didn't doubt she was bound to be caked with filth after all this was over.

Assuming she survived the ordeal, of course.

She was around the halfway point when the water began to rise ever so slightly, bringing itself to around her waist level. But once again, nothing happened to her. Her heart was beating like a loud drum against her chest, thumping as she prayed for her own safety.

And surely enough, nothing happened.

Once she was safely on the other side, she called for Persey to cross with her. And when he did so, nothing happened.

Now, it was time for the bubbling river.

A creeping feeling within Ithaca told her the river was boiling hot, but she decided to test it out first. Inserting her branch into the water, she observed any signs of danger.

Nothing happened.

She gritted her teeth, her chest now thumping like a deranged gorilla. Putting her foot in, she grimaced as the ice-cool river lapped at her foot. Taking a few steps in, she paused, her breath held in anticipation as bubbles floated around her legs.

Nothing happened.

The further she went in, the shallower the water seemed. Which was good. Until Ithaca felt something brush against her leg.

A cold chill instantly shot through her veins. A million possibilities sprang to mind, ranging from the severe to the insanely catastrophic.

But then a tiny fish swam past, a red little thing hardly the size of her pinky finger. And she heaved a tremendous sigh of relief.

Once she and Persey had gotten past the second river, they were now left with the third river.

The river with treacherous rapids. One slip could be game over for both of them.

This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea!

"I can do this," she murmured softly to herself, careful to make sure Persey couldn't hear her.

She took the first, careful step forward.

And something happened.

The river seemed to freeze right there and then. The once-raging currents turned completely still. Ithaca gaped in awe. Surely, this was just an illusion, or perhaps the Gamemakers were playing tricks on her. But as she cautiously moved through the river, the currents remained perfectly still, with not even the slightest hint of motion coming her way.

It was a miracle.

"It must've been a visual deterrent," she concluded, blinking in amazement. "I can't believe it."

"Well, let's hope that means something good's in that tower," Persey said.

"Only one way to find out." And with that, they marched on to the ominous obsidian tower that loomed ahead of them.


WISTERIA AMBROSE (15)

DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE


Wisteria couldn't shake the hopeless feeling out of her chest.

She ambled through the trees, softly humming to herself as she pranced around the dim blue lights, feeling like a princess in a fairy tale of her own.

Except this was her nightmare.

Phoenix was gone, dead, buried in a casket headed back to District Eleven.

And it was her fault.

He had died trying to protect her.

She had abandoned him to die.

She had left him there, screaming in pain as that horrible Career ended his life.

She was the monster.

And now, she was all alone. Just as she deserved. Karma truly was a bitch.

But perhaps it was an undeserved blessing. Here she was, prancing about without a care in the world, living out her last days free of the burdens of life that had befallen upon her back home. Now, she could do whatever she wanted, however she wanted, whenever she wanted, all on her own accord.

In a twisted sense, she was finally free.

"I- I can do this," she murmured, not a hundred percent aware of just what she meant by those words. Her mind was in full-blown insanity mode, churning up random words that she would utter from time to time, just trying to appease the demons in the back of her head as she twirled around.

Just then, her foot hit something hard. "Eep!" she cried out, tumbling to the ground in a clumsy pile of hopelessness.

Glancing over her legs, she saw that she'd tripped over an annoyingly large tree root. One that, for most sane-minded and mentally competent folk, was unmissable.

Yet, for the ever-hopeless Wisteria, it had completely gone unnoticed.

Her sheer idiocy infuriated her. It had cost Phoenix his life, now it was making her look like an absolute fool in front of the whole of Panem. For the first time in what seemed like eternity, she felt a spark in her chest, but not that excited little spark that comes with facing a climbing challenge. She felt enraged at herself, anger bubbling in her chest at just how pathetic she was.

"Let it all out, don't hold back," Phoenix had told her.

And she didn't hold back.

"Haiyaa!" She grabbed her knife, a little trinket she'd swiped from the Cornucopia shoreline, probably dropped by another fleeing tribute, and sunk it deep into the tree root. She pulled it out, and with all her might, with an almighty roar of sheer frustration, slashed the root, slicing a long, deep gash into the tree's bark.

What happened next wasn't according to plan, though.

The tree root began to rumble, and for a split second, Wisteria feared she'd angered some nature spirit, or worse still, the Gamemakers. But instead, the tree root split, revealing a tiny crevice in the earth, just enough for someone Wisteria's size to squeeze through. Peering inside, Wisteria's jaw dropped as she saw the faintest hint of a small, elevated platform next to what appeared to be a flight of stairs.

"Ooh, a secret tunnel?" she mused. "I love those." She knew that sure, it could be dangerous and potentially a very bad trap designed to screw the living hell out of her, but hey, life had already beaten the Gamemakers to it, so what did Wisteria really have to lose?

Only problem was, it would be a bit of a challenge getting herself through the crevice. The solution? Wisteria loved challenges, so naturally, she barely hesitated before slipping her body into the hole and slowly, but surely, easing herself in, her heart racing at the thought of going on a whole quest of her own. She desperately hoped she was the first to stumble upon this passageway. If she were to be second fiddle behind, say, that adventure-loving kid Coda, for instance, she'd be nothing more than a fraud who was too slow to get to the good bits of the arena.

Soon, she'd managed to get herself onto the platform. The air was musty, with dust swirling around her nose, making Wisteria sneeze a few times as she eased herself to her feet. Squinting ahead, she saw that the staircase was lined with stone walls, illuminated with tiny, blue lights similar to the ones above ground. At the bottom of the staircase was a dimly lit corridor, and she could just make out a few wall carvings etched along its walls.

"Oh, don't mind if I do!"

She scampered down the staircase, and stood in glorious awe as she marvelled at the intricate row of wall art that now blessed her eyes. It was a treasure trove of lost, long-forgotten artwork, a marvellous sight that dwarfed even the Capitol's finest murals. The paint was faded, the carvings slightly eroded into the annals of time, yet their stories still held true, their colours still retaining a haunting vibrancy that echoed through the silence. One section displayed a sprawling countryside, eerily familiar to that of District Eleven, with lush, rolling hills bathed in a dying sunset. Flowers dotted the landscape, trees sprang up here and there adorned with the juiciest of fruits. Little farmer figures were painted into the distance, looking animated as they went about their harvest. It was the picture-perfect portrayal of the Capitol's version of District Eleven, an idyllic farming countryside filled with blissful ignorance, a far cry from the depraved realities of life in the District itself.

But perhaps this was what the District had once been, long before the Dark Days and any thought of the Hunger Games had ever come to fruition. Back in what Elevens often called the 'Prosperous Days', when Eleven had a thriving agrarian society stitched together with strong community spirit.

Wisteria sighed, longingly gazing at the scene, before her eyes shifted to the one next to it. A young girl with dark skin stared solemnly ahead, her sunken eyes seemingly following Wisteria as she slowly strolled past her. The girl was eerily similar to Amaryllis, Wisteria realised with a gasp. "That's… that's my sister," she breathed. "But- how?" The Capitol, surely it was them who had artificially engineered this brief moment of remembrance and walk down memory lane. But why? Why would they offer her such a merciful act?

She stared once more at the portrait of maybe-Amaryllis. Her eyes were nothing but chipped and flaking paint, yet within them lay a thousand words, all converging into a single message: Don't give up.

It was the same look Amaryllis had given her all those days ago in the Justice Building. How could she have forgotten those sunken eyes drained of any remaining tears begging for her to fight on, to press on for her.

Wisteria took a deep breath. There was still plenty more that this tunnel had to offer for her, and in the coming days, she was sure she would be exploring more of this place.

But one thing was certain: she was not giving up.

Her days of lying idly patiently waiting to finally succumb to the ultimate sleep were numbered. On that day, Wisteria Ambrose was going to be a fighter.

If not for herself, for all those she loved back home, and beyond.


A/N: No deaths this time round, but that could all change in the next chapter... Which tribute do you think will win?