Idea #6: Lost
Main Characters: *Cato, *Clove, **Katniss, and **Peeta
* Means these are the MAIN people in the story
** Contributing characters, secondary love pair
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***Possible Prologue/Preface for a new story/short story.***
The forest closed in around me, as I walked slowly into it. Through the holes in the top of the trees I just barely saw the sky turn from orangeish pink to pitch black. I sighed heavily and pulled my night glasses out of my jacket pocket, slipping them on the darkness around me became as bright as day.
I huffed, very annoyed and bored, and stuck my hands into my warm pocket. I shuffled along, kicking rocks, whistling a tune here and there, practicing my aim on lizards, rabbits, deer, basically any animal I saw. The forest thinned as I continued to walk, further and further down.
"Where are you Cato?" I mumbled, bending down and yanking my now bloody knife out of a deer's neck. The red blood looked almost black in the little light that hardly shone through the tree tops. I jumped back as I heard a stick crack. Holding my knife up and standing in my fighting stance I whipped around, desperately looking for a source. "Who's there?" I asked, backing up and walking away from the deer.
"Cato?" I whispered.
Okay, I'll admit it. It's quite scary being in the forest alone, and being in the Hunger Games, and being in the darkness. I honestly didn't where I was going or what I was doing, all I knew was that I was alone, and kind of scared.
Originally Cato and I were stuck to each other like glue, ever since we heard that we could both go home. But, somehow, we were split. Well, actually, it was all Lover Boy and Fire Girl's fault. Fire Girl dropped that trackerjacker nest and Lover Boy p!ssed Cato off, by running after her.
I scowled darkly as a rabbit hopped out of the shadows. Ugh... Stupid creature. I thought hatefully, it had me scared for a moment. I tossed the knife down mercilessly. The red, blackish blood splattered the ground and I smiled wickedly. There, much better.
I pulled the knife out of the rabbit's chest and patted it's dead head before skipping merrily off. Skipping over roots and ducking under lowing hanging branches I sang softly, a little tune my mother used to whisper to me.
"Just close your eyes, the sun is going down,
You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now,
Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound...."
I stopped as I heard the birds, Mockingjays, singing my song back to me. I smiled to myself, glad to know there was one good thing in my life, that I had some calming factor to me.
About fifteen to twenty minutes later I heard it, the deafening sound signaling another tribute dead. The dreaded cannon. I froze stiff, all my muscles seemed to stop working as I stood there. I wasn't blinking, just looking straight ahead at the trees. No! You mustn't think that, Clove. Cato is to strong for that. It can't be him. He's to strong... I told myself, although doubting it some. I closed my eyes taking in deep, slow breaths, trying to calm myself down. But, then another went off. Another cannon, another dead.
My feet moved then, moving forward, and fast. I sprinted around tree trunks and bashed through everything that was in my way. "It can't be him," I panted quietly, skidding to a halt in a clearing. The darkness nearly suffocated me, surrounding me on all sides, closing in on me. I jumped and spun around as an owl hooted somewhere in the trees above me. My knife was once again held up in the air, ready to be thrown.
The more leaves that rustled with the wind, the more sticks snapped under animals, or humans feet, - I couldn't tell which, I was just hopping it was the first option - the more paranoid I became. All I knew at that moment was that I was trapped and scared. I was scared for me, scared for Cato...
I looked around once more before sighing heavily. My shoulders slumped and my arms fell to my sides limply. Walking in a circle I examined the darkness around me, quiet enough, remote enough. I huffed as I sat cross-legged on the ground, in the twigs and leaves and in the middle of the clearing. Running a hand through my messy hair I thought...
Okay, it was official... I. Was. Lost.
