Sorry it's late! Happy late Halloween!
Maze barely slept that night.
Every night until then, without fail, the combination of being exhausted and the warm, cozy bed had been more than enough to get her to fall asleep. Tonight, though, she tossed and turned.
Visions of her own doom filled the dark space behind her eyelids. She saw herself dying in infinite ways the next few days.
Death by stabbing. Death by slashing. Death by decapitation. Death by strangulation. The standard ways to die during the bloodbath.
Then, there were the numerous deaths that could happen in the arena beyond those. Death by burning. Death by freezing. Death by poisonous berries or meat. Death by drowning. Death by infection or disease. Death by mutts ripping you apart or injecting you with venom or eggs or whatever unfathomable horrors the Gamemakers could cook up.
After many hours of ruminating, Maze's brain finally tired itself of its tortured fantasies and allowed her to sleep. She only slept for what seemed like a few minutes before someone woke her.
"Maze?"
Someone shook her shoulder. Maze peeled open her sleep-encrusted eyes to see Beetee standing by her bed like some kind of specter. This time, he had skipped the knocking and just come straight into the room.
Dread seized Maze. "Is it time?"
"Almost. You leave in fifteen minutes. I wanted to talk to you before then. Give you some last-minute advice. Say goodbye. That type of thing."
Maze sat up in bed, swinging her knees around so her feet dangled off the bed. Beetee sat next to her.
"I'm scared." The words left her mouth before she could stop them. They were accurate, though — Maze was terrified. Adrenaline shot through her sleepy body, and she had a feeling it would not be leaving anytime soon.
Beetee patted her shoulder. "I'd be more concerned if you weren't. Anyways, advice."
He took a breath before continuing. "My first piece of advice: keep your wits about you as much as you can. Try not to lose your head, although I know that's easier said than done. You'll need to think rationally in the arena as much as you can. My second piece of advice: try and take everything moment by moment, one step at a time. Don't think too far into the future or you'll lose your head."
Maze nodded, committing his words to memory.
"Third piece of advice: survival. Remember your survival training. If you decide to go for things at the Cornucopia, favor survival items over weapons. You should also prioritize finding food and water. They don't call them the Hunger Games for no reason."
Maze nodded some more. "Gotcha."
"You got some sponsor money," Beetee continued. "Not as much as, say, the Career tributes, but more than the average outlier tribute. I'll do my best to send you at least one thing that you'd find useful."
Maze nodded again. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Beetee briefly looked away. "Anyways, expect a long, slow Games. The Games last year were too short and it made the Capitol upset. Rumor has it the Gamemakers are really going to try and draw these ones out to avoid that."
"Yay, draw out the torture," Maze muttered.
Beetee looked back at her, his tone of voice shifting. "There was something else I wanted to talk to you about."
Maze just stared at him, encouraging him to go on. Her curiosity was piqued. What else more did they have to discuss?
"I knew your family."
Maze's eyes widened.
Beetee drummed his fingertips against his knee. "The Donahues. I remember thinking your last name was familiar when you were Reaped, but it took me until now to remember where I've heard it before. They lived a few streets away from where I grew up. My parents knew them."
"A mother, father, and two daughters, right?" Maze asked, finding her voice. "Gauss and Iris Donahue? I researched them, but I couldn't find much."
Beetee nodded. "Yes. Their oldest daughter, Titania, was in my class at school. I didn't talk to her much, but she was always kind to me. Sadly, I don't recall the name of the youngest daughter."
He lifted his gaze, looking Maze directly in the face. "She looked just like you, though. Same face, same coloring. If I had to guess, I'd say she was your mother."
A strange warmth bloomed in Maze's chest. A mother. She had a mother at one point.
"What happened to them?" Maze asked. "The records said that they were executed for treason. And then Titania and my mother's records were expunged."
"I don't know exactly what happened," Beetee said. "From what I heard, either Titania or your mother got involved with anti-Capitol rebels. Gauss and Iris were collateral damage. I assume their daughters suffered the same fate. Their records being completely sealed is unusual, though."
His brow furrowed, continuing his drumming. "It doesn't make sense for any of them to have been involved in anti-Capitol plots. From what I knew of her, Titania was always very by-the-book. She hated breaking rules. And the Donahues were well-off. Gauss Donahue was a Researcher who worked with my father. They had nothing to gain from being involved in anti-Capitol business."
"Dammit, I could have been rich," Maze muttered.
Beetee sighed. "I suppose it's hard to know people from a distance. I didn't know the youngest Donahue daughter even had a child. You must have been turned over to the community home after your mother was executed."
His hand moved to his jaw in thought. "What a mystery. When I get back to District 3, I promise I'll research further."
"No need," Maze muttered, biting her lip and curling her knees to her chest. "I'll be dead, anyways. No more Donahues to worry about."
"Don't count yourself out already," Beetee said. "Wiress said she thinks you could win."
"Wiress?" Maze asked.
"I talked to her on the phone," Beetee replied. "I trust her judgment. She says hello and good luck, by the way."
Maze scoffed. "Dream on, Wiress."
If people thought Beetee was a bit strange, Wiress was even stranger. She spoke in a strange cadence, her tone never quite matching what she was trying to say. She had a habit of dropping her words mid-sentence, too. The content of her speech was equally odd. She never quite grasped what was socially appropriate and often said random things, or went off on tangents about things few cared about. Maze always felt bad for how people talked about her. Wiress was odd, yes, but she seemed kind, and her strangeness never hurt anyone. She was also Beetee's inventing partner and was just as clever as he was.
For such a clever woman, Wiress' faith in Maze was misplaced.
"Can you at least promise me you'll try?" Beetee asked. "Just do your best."
Maze shrugged, biting her lip again. "I don't know. It's not like there's anything or anybody waiting for me if I won."
Beetee gave her a sharp look.
She sighed. "I'll try."
Beetee seemed satisfied with her response and nodded. "Good."
Maze uncurled from her ball and the two of them sat on the edge of the bed in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Maze tried to think of something to say to fill the silence, but nothing came to mind.
Eventually, Philomena appeared in the doorway. She wore a silk robe and slippers, and her face was devoid of makeup. "Maze? It's almost time to go."
Dread once again seized Maze. She resisted the urge to curl back up into a ball. Instead, she curled her fists into balls.
Beetee stood up from the bed. With reluctance, Maze copied him.
"Do you do hugs?" Beetee asked.
Maze paused. "I don't know. I don't remember the last time I got hugged."
It was true. It had been many, many years since she last got hugged. Maze didn't even remember who had hugged her last. Probably one of the community home volunteers hugging her as a child to make her calm down from crying. Maze forgot what a hug even felt like.
Beetee let out a noise that sounded halfway between sympathetic and amused. "And you said you didn't want pity."
He opened his arms, beckoning to Maze. Hesitantly, Maze stepped into them, and he enclosed them around her.
She had forgotten just how cozy hugs were. Cozy and warm and comforting. The warmth that wrapped around Maze, as well as the gentle pressure of Beetee's arms around her shoulder and torso, took Maze right back to her childhood. Her childhood, when she was still small, cute, and huggable. There came a point where she grew too old to be hugged by the volunteers whenever she cried or was in pain. One day, she was hugged for the last time, and then never hugged again until now. They had decided she could comfort herself. And Maze did just that for several years.
Memories of when she got graylung sprang to mind. She had started coughing one day, and no one ever gave her medicine for it. The cough worsened overnight, and by morning, she could hardly move, too busy gasping for breath. Mrs. Tapp made her go to school anyway, and somehow, she made it to school without collapsing in the street. It wasn't until she coughed up blood onto her desk in the middle of class that the teacher realized just how sick Maze was. She vaguely remembered being rushed to the hospital from school in the arms of some Peacekeeper.
In the hospital, she was given an oxygen mask and placed in the children's ward. There, she remembered seeing a little boy about her age a few beds down. He too had an oxygen mask, and his parents sat by his bedside, his father holding his hand while his mother stroked his hair. Maze had no one to do that for her. No one to comfort her, scared and alone in the hospital. She began wailing, longing so badly for someone who loved her to hold her hand or stroke her hair. The nurses thought she was crying due to pain and gave her medicine that made her body feel fuzzy and her tears stop, but she still felt the coldness of having nobody to comfort you. That type of coldness didn't leave someone easily.
Now, despite her current position wrapped in Beetee's warm arms, she felt that coldness creeping back in. She wished she could have had more comfort like this in her short life.
A lump formed in Maze's throat. She swallowed it, wrapping her own arms around Beetee. She had zero experience hugging others. If her arms were placed awkwardly, Beetee didn't seem to mind.
"Thank you," she told him, trying to hide the wavering in her voice. "For being so kind to me. For being one of the only people to be kind to me."
Beetee gently squeezed her. "You're very welcome."
They stayed like that for a few more seconds, before Beetee let go. "It's time to go," he said.
Philomena confirmed this with a nod. Swallowing again, Maze followed Philomena into the hallway, Beetee following close behind.
They took the elevator up to the roof of the training center. There, a small hovercraft awaited, a line of other smaller hovercrafts behind it. Maze assumed they would be picking up the other tributes. Harmonia also awaited, standing in the open bay of the hovercraft, violet hair blowing in the breeze. She gave Maze a melancholy smile when she saw her.
Philomena gave Maze a quick hug that was over before Maze could even process that she was being hugged. "Good luck out there, Maze. It was nice getting to know you the past few days."
Maze managed to flash her a quick smile, before someone in a uniform beckoned her towards the hovercraft. She slowly walked towards the open bay door, the concrete cool and rough beneath her bare feet. When she was almost at the door, she turned back and looked at Beetee.
Beetee gave her the same kind, gentle smile he did after her Reaping, when she was all alone in the room in the Stadium.
"Good luck," he said, giving an encouraging nod. "Remember my advice. I'll be watching every moment I can."
Maze managed a small smile and gave him a thumbs-up, which he returned. She stepped into the hovercraft, and the door closed, cutting Beetee and Philomena off from view. The last glimpse she had of them was them standing on the roof, clothes and hair blowing in the wind generated by the hovercraft motors.
She'd never see either of them again.
Someone in a white coat approached with a large needle. "Arm," they commanded, before grabbing Maze's upper arm and jabbing it with the needle before she could say or do anything.
The needle stung as it plunged into her arm, and Maze felt something solid move through the needle and into her body. She winced at the sensation.
The person removed the needle. "Your tracker," they said, before walking away.
Maze thought of Beetee's Games and the herons. She brushed the skin over the tracker, remembering how Beetee cut the trackers out and used their batteries. Part of her wondered if, in a pinch, she could cut her own tracker out of her — or the tracker of another tribute — and use it.
Outside the hovercraft windows, the city center began retreating into the distance as the vehicle flew up and away into the sky. The sun was just beginning to come up, its first rays glinting against the metal Capitol buildings. Maze watched as the Capitol grew smaller and smaller as the hovercraft ascended until it reached cloud level.
Harmonia led Maze to a table filled with breakfast foods and drinks. "You should probably try to eat something," she suggested. "Or at the very least, hydrate. You don't know when you'll eat or drink next."
"This could be my last meal," Maze murmured in response.
"Yeah." Harmonia frowned. "That too."
She helped herself to some pastries sitting on a plate. Maze watched her for a moment before obeying her suggestion. Her nerves killed most of her appetite, so she nibbled on some meat and cheese piled upon crackers to provide protein. She also got herself a glass of water and sipped on it.
Neither she nor Harmonia spoke while they ate. There was nothing to discuss. After a while, metal shutters closed on the windows, plunging the hovercraft into darkness for a few seconds until fluorescent lights flickered on.
"We're almost there," Harmonia commented. "I think we're heading west, based on the direction the hovercraft was going from the Capitol. The arena might be something mountainous or in the desert. Or maybe it's by the coast."
Maze nodded but didn't reply. Ten minutes later, the hovercraft shuddered, then stopped. The bay doors opened again, revealing a concrete corridor. Maze's heart lurched.
This was it. She was there.
A Peacekeeper led Maze and Harmonia down the corridor, before opening the door to a room with a small sitting area and another table with food. A large open tube with glass siding loomed in the corner of the room. Just looking at it made Maze feel claustrophobic.
A clear package sat on the coffee table in the sitting area. Harmonia went over to it and opened it. "Here's your arena uniform."
She helped Maze change into a camisole and pair of underwear, a t-shirt, and a pair of pants made of a strange, thick, plastic-like material, as well as a pair of thick socks and boots. Lastly, she zipped Maze up into a hooded jacket made of the same material as the pants that reached her mid-thighs. The jacket, pants, and boots all appeared black at first, but upon closer inspection, Maze noticed that they had a tint of indigo. The laces of her boots, as well as the t-shirt and trimming of the pants and jacket, were District 3 indigo-purple. A '3' in the same shade was emblazoned on both sleeves of the jacket.
Harmonia fingered the material of the jacket, inspecting it closely. "I know this material. It's warm and light, as well as waterproof. I'm guessing the arena's going to be cold and wet. So definitely not the desert."
She withdrew Maze's ring from her pocket. "Let's not forget this — the most essential part of the uniform."
She slid it onto Maze's finger. Maze rubbed her thumb over it as soon as Harmonia's fingers left it. No matter how much rubbing of it she did, it did nothing to quell the rapidly rising panic within her.
"There's more food and water over there," Harmonia said, pointing to the table. Maze just shook her head.
Harmonia shrugged her shoulders. "That's fair."
The two sat down, awaiting the inevitable call to the tube that would take Maze to the arena. Neither of them spoke. Maze continued rubbing her ring, her heart squirming in her chest. Harmonia just sat and examined her manicure.
Harmonia spoke after a while. "I'm sorry for being so quiet. There are no words I can possibly say that would make you — or me — feel better about this."
Maze looked up from her ring at Harmonia.
She continued. "Growing up in the Capitol, we were taught that people from the districts were nothing more but animals in the bodies of humans. That the Capitol was doing them a favor by governing them and allowing them to live in a structured society and contribute things to the Capitol. And I believed that for a long time. But you…you and Alt and Beetee, and even Troy, as brutish as he is…you're not animals. No. Not at all. You're humans. You're peers, even. You just happened to have the misfortune to be born in the districts."
Maze remained silent.
"And I got attached to you," Harmonia said. "At stylist training, they told me not to, but I did anyway. You…you remind me of me when I was your age. Hell, you remind me of me now. And now I have to send you off to your slaughter. Like an animal. But you're human. It's not fair."
Maze stared at her with wide eyes. What Harmonia was saying sounded awfully treasonous. She wasn't aware Capitol citizens were even capable of that level of self-awareness.
She glanced around, checking for anything that could be recording them.
"Don't worry about that," Harmonia said. "If they have cameras, they don't check them anyways. I've heard rumors that they tell the Career stylists what the arena is and then let the Career stylists leak the arena to the tributes."
She sighed and slouched forward, her elbow coming to rest on her knees and her hand cradling her forehead. "But, anyways. Ugh. I've always hated goodbyes. I won't ever forget you, Maze. You're unforgettable."
She lifted her head and gave Maze a weak smile, which she returned.
At that moment, an announcement played.
"Attention, tributes: launch is in one minute. Repeat, launch is in one minute."
Maze's fear coalesced into a whimper.
"Fucking shit," Harmonia muttered. "Time to go."
She stood up, before opening her arms the way Beetee did earlier. "Hug?"
Maze accepted. She wanted the warmth again.
Harmonia wrapped her arms around Maze, Maze doing the same in return. The scent of floral perfume of some sort wafted into Maze's nose.
"It was fun styling you and getting to know you," Harmonia murmured. "I'm glad I got someone so cool and funny to be the first person I style."
The lump reappeared in Maze's throat, rendering her speechless.
Harmonia broke away, keeping a hand on Maze's shoulder. "Good luck, Maze. I'm rooting for you. Neither of us can bet on or sponsor tributes, but Philly and I convinced our parents to put money on you."
She winked at Maze. Maze attempted a smile back, but it came out as more of a grimace.
Harmonia led Maze into the tube in the corner of the launch room. As soon as Maze was fully in the tube, an unseen door swung shut, sealing her inside. Maze's fear became even stronger, beginning to turn to panic. Her breath turned to gasps and her heart lurched even more.
She glanced outside the tube to Harmonia, who gave her a comforting smile and nod. Maze placed her hand on the glass to steady herself.
Soon, the plate beneath Maze's feet began rising, taking her with it. The tunnel plunged Maze into darkness, and she gulped, nausea clenching her stomach.
This was it.
Thirty seconds later — which felt like an eternity to Maze; the launch room must have been deep underground— she emerged into bright light. She blinked a few times, before taking in the sight of the arena before her.
One of Harmonia's guesses were correct — the arena was mountainous. Snow-capped mountains rose up on the horizon on all sides. The arena sat in the middle of a wide valley. The Cornucopia itself was situated on flat land, in the middle of a large meadow. A rocky outcrop rose up on Maze's right side. Thick pine forests surrounded the meadow on all sides. The arena itself vaguely reminded Maze of the pictures she'd seen of the arena of the 50th Hunger Games. However, unlike that arena, where every plant and animal was designed to be artificially beautiful and deadly, everything in this arena looked natural.
Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed from some unseen source.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 57th Hunger Games begin!"
The countdown started. In sixty seconds, the land mines keeping the tributes on their plates would be disabled.
Maze studied the tributes around her. They all wore hooded jackets and pants made of the same material as hers, but in the colors associated with their districts. The boys from 5 and 9 were on both sides of her. Alt stood six plates down from her, wearing an identical uniform to Maze. Even from a distance, Maze could tell he had his usual panicked expression.
Alt was the only nearby tribute Maze recognized. The others she recognized, like the District 7 tributes and Camilee, must have been on the other side of the Cornucopia.
Speaking of the Cornucopia, Maze was situated on its left side, away from the entrance. The angle she was at obscured most of the goods from her sight, but she could still see some supplies. The nearest item to her was a small green backpack. Maze narrowed her eyes at it. She could easily grab it as long as one of the boys beside her didn't beat her to it, which was unlikely. The boy from 5 was even smaller than her, and the boy from 9 was abnormally plump for a tribute from District 9. Maze remembered both scoring about the same as Alt during training.
Something shiny leaning up against the side of the Cornucopia caught Maze's eye. It was a spear, ripe for the taking. A few feet away from it was a red sleeping bag.
Backpack, spear, sleeping bag. If Maze could grab those three items, she'd be set. After she got those, she'd head into the forest. Staying at the Cornucopia longer than necessary meant certain death.
Maze exhaled and lunged forward, settling herself into a running position.
The clock ran out. A long tone sounded, signaling the official start of the 57th Hunger Games.
Maze leapt off her plate and sprinted towards the backpack. For several moments, she heard nothing but the wind in her ears. Then, the screaming started.
The sounds of slashing and some unknown tribute screaming filled the air. The bloodbath had begun.
Maze blocked it out. Her vision tunneled, focusing on nothing but the green backpack just yards ahead of her nestled in the grass.
She reached the backpack and slung it onto her shoulder. There wasn't as much weight in it as she would have liked, but she didn't have time to think about what was inside right now. She had to get the spear and sleeping bag.
More screams erupted. They sounded closer this time.
Maze reached the side of the Cornucopia and bent down to retrieve the sleeping bag from the ground. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she looked up just in time to see the boy from District 2 barreling towards her, mace in hand. The mace already shone crimson with blood.
Maze had no weapon. The spear was still a few steps away.
An idea flashed through her brain like a bolt of lightning.
She unrolled the sleeping bag with a sharp tug of its fastener. When the boy got close enough, Maze threw the sleeping bag at him.
It worked much better than she anticipated. The sleeping bag landed over the boy's head and mace, obscuring his vision and weapon and causing him to slow down. The sleeping bag then fell, entangling in the boy's legs and under his feet. This, plus the weight of his weapon unbalancing him, caused him to fall over with a sharp curse.
Maze didn't squander this opportunity. She grabbed the spear and took off running in the opposite direction, heading towards the forest.
More screams and fighting sounds reached her ears. She swore she heard Alt's scream among them, but she couldn't be sure. They all sounded the same. She didn't dare look back to see what was happening.
She broke through the trees and ran until she physically couldn't anymore. Her lungs and legs burned with the ferocity of a thousand suns, and her heart felt as though it was about to explode.
She collapsed onto a flat, sunny rock, unzipping her jacket to cool herself down and shrugging her arms out of its sleeves. Running so far for so long in the jacket had overheated her, especially on such a warm day. Her mouth was dry, and she lamented that she hadn't passed any bodies of water during her run that she remembered.
Maze laid sprawled out on the rock, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, until the burning sensations passed, leaving a dull aching in her legs. The exhaustion from not sleeping well the night before caught up to her as the adrenaline subsided.
Before she could stop herself, her eyelids drooped closed, and she dozed off on the rock.
Maze woke up from her impromptu nap to cannon shots.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
Six tributes died in the bloodbath. Eighteen left already.
Maze was still alive. She had survived.
Blinking, she sat up and opened her backpack to examine the contents.
The first thing she pulled out was a spool of silver wire. She grinned at the sight of it.
Yes! Wire could be used for traps, electric or otherwise. In a pinch, she could use it as a garrote.
The next thing in the pack was a water bottle with a filter on its cap. Maze's giddiness increased — she was so thirsty — but when she went to drink from it, she realized it was empty. Her grin slid right off her face. She set it aside.
Lastly, she pulled out a pair of socks and a small roll of bandages. Items that could be useful later on, but not immediately. Still nice to have, though.
Maze put the items back in the pack and stood up, before putting her jacket back on, grabbing her spear and heading deeper into the woods, away from the rock. Beetee's advice echoed in her head.
Prioritize food and water. Remember your survival training.
Maze decided to go hunting. She didn't want to stay in one spot in case someone one found her. Plus, she needed food.
She stalked as quietly as she could into the forest, listening for the rustling of creatures. Whenever she heard one, she'd go over to it and try to spear it. However, Maze was too heavy on her feet, and several got away.
Finally, Maze managed to sneak up on an unsuspecting squirrel and spear it through the chest. She grinned in victory, holding it up by its tail and examining it. It wasn't much, but it would make a good meal.
Next, Maze had to cook the squirrel. She gathered fallen branches, dead plants, and pine needles, and created a small fire.
Watching the fire crackling among the dead wood, she recalled Beetee's Games and the trackers in the herons' necks. Some batteries or electronic components would be useful to her.
Maze palpated the pelt of the squirrel for any sign of a tracker, eventually ripping the pelt off with the tip of the spear and feeling through the entrails, but there was no tracker to be found. The Gamemakers must have done away with them after Beetee's Games. And now Maze had squirrel blood and guts all over her hands. She grimaced, doing her best to wipe it off on her jacket.
She cooked the squirrel for about thirty minutes using a branch as a skewer. Once it was done, she ate it right off the branch. It didn't taste terrible, but her mouth was so dry it took her much longer to chew and swallow than usual. The meal made her miss the fine dining she had in the Capitol. A crab rangoon or piece of chocolate cake sounded heavenly right now. So did a plain glass of water.
Once she finished her meager meal, she put out the fire and continued walking through the woods, this time in search of water. Her search was in vain. By the time it was beginning to get dark, Maze called off her search and settled in by a random pine tree.
After the sun went down, the temperature plummeted. Maze zipped up her jacket again and put her hood up. The squirrel was not enough food for her; her stomach gnawed in hunger, but it was too dark to go hunting again. She'd have to wait until the morning.
Once the sun was completely below the horizon, the anthem blared, and the seal of Panem appeared in the night sky, signaling the showing of the fallen tributes. Maze scurried out from under the tree to see it clearly, her breath visible under its weak light.
She was not expecting the first face she saw to be Alt's.
Maze's heart sunk at the sight. So the scream she heard was him.
Alt was a jerk to her, sure, but he didn't deserve to die. Just last night, he was alive and talking about his family and girlfriend back home in District 3. His family and girlfriend that had to watch their beloved son, brother, and boyfriend be violently murdered on live national television that morning.
Maze could almost hear Troy's cackling and a smug 'told you so'.
She sighed. The image of Alt on stage smiling and doing the finger heart flashed before her in her mind.
"I'm sorry." She spoke aloud, in hopes that the cameras picked it up and that the Kingstons were watching.
The display moved on. It showed both tributes from 5 and 6, as well as the girl from 11, before going dark.
By then, Maze was freezing. The jacket and pants were warm, yes, but she could barely feel her exposed face and hands.
The spare pair of socks in her backpack remedied her hands. She slipped them over her hands, before making her bed for the night.
Using her socked hands as scoops, she dug in the dirt at the base of the pine tree, creating a hollow for her to curl up in. She lined it with pine needles for extra meager comfort and warmth, before settling in, curling up as tight as she could and burying her face into her knees. She slipped her arms out of her jacket sleeves and crossed them inside her jacket for extra warmth. If she had to run or defend herself during the night, she would lose time trying to untangle herself from her jacket and socks, but that didn't matter much to Maze. Right now, hypothermia was the biggest danger.
She thought of the red sleeping bag she had and cursed the District 2 boy for making her lose it. The boy was probably all warm and cozy in it, sleeping alongside five of his closest friends, while Maze slept freezing in the dirt like an animal.
Somehow, nestled among the pine needles, and despite her growling stomach and the freezing cold, Maze was able to fall asleep. She didn't stir until the sun dragged its rays across the mountains and through the pine branches.
Stretching the ache of the cold ground out of her bones, Maze stood and brushed the pine needles off her. She grabbed her spear, wielding it like a walking stick, and continued on her way, heading deeper into the woods and towards the horrors that awaited her.