weeping willow // sejanus plinth

07

Chapter Seven:
The 14th Annual Hunger Games

Willow

The peacekeepers shove me into a dark van with the rest of the tributes. We sit in complete silence as the vehicle rumbles to life and begins driving us to the arena.

I take some time to think about what the arena could be. Since the 11th Hunger games, all the arenas have been outside rather than an enclosed space like the previous ones. The capitol spends months preparing the arenas and closing them off so that none of the tributes can escape.

Last year's arena was a rocky mountain range. Most of the tributes died because of the terrain. I can only hope the arena doesn't make surviving even more difficult for me.

The van rolls to a stop but we can't possibly be there yet. Peacekeepers are pacing outside, occasionally bumping things into the side of blacked out windows.

It takes a loud rumbling and a few panicked exclamations for me to realize we are in an aircraft. The take off is violent, sending everyone flying. We don't have the luxury of seatbelts I guess. My body is slammed into a cold wall, but I quickly recover and drag myself back to a seat.

The flight is long. It spans over a few hours, but I can't be sure how many. The other tributes talk in hushed voices, but I stay quiet. I can't let myself humanize them. It would destroy me. Trying to cope with my reaping has been difficult.

My heart aches when I think about it for too long. All of us except one, wiped from existence. For what? No good reason. Just a cruel one.

That's why I can't bring myself to learn their names. Some of them are as young as twelve. I just can't bear it.

I can joke about my rapidly approaching death all I want; but that doesn't make me any less scared. Despite my fear, I'm prepared. My desire to survive isn't strong enough to make me kill. I've come to terms with that.

The violent shake of the van is what lets me know we have arrived. I groan as my eyes are assaulted with daylight. Peacekeepers shout orders for us to vacate the van.

A blindfold is tied tightly around my head, obscuring my vision. A peacekeeper grabs me by the arm and drags me forward. I struggle to keep up with his pace.

With my sight gone, I rely on my other senses. The first thing I notice is the smell. It smells like mildew and plants. The air is warm and heavy with moisture. I can't hear anything over the loud hum of the aircraft.

I notice when the ground below me changes. The peacekeeper and I are walking in wooden planks now. He walks behind me, still keeping firm grip on my arm. Our pace is painfully slow. We are probably walking on something thin, maybe a bridge of some kind.

When I'm finally standing where I am supposed to be, the blindfold is ripped off. It takes my eyes several seconds to adjust to the light. By the time they do, the peacekeeper is already climbing into the aircraft.

I take in my surroundings. The wooden plank bridge I was walking on connects my podium to the cornucopia. It's suspended several feet above the water.

The cornucopia is in the center of a large body of water. It's a small island with an assortment of weapons. The long green grass sways in the wind as the countdown begins.