Breaking Down Bridges ▸ Hunger Games

Chapter Twenty: Gale Hawthorne

Chapter Twenty:

Gale's POV

'Cause I'm running out of time

I know what I came to do

And I didn't come to lose

And I'll fight to make you mine

And if trouble comes around

I won't be backing down tonight

—Shane Dawson, "Superluv"

As soon as the cannon boomed through the icy arena, I ran forward, grabbing a small pack, a bow, and some arrows. I ran south. It was always warmer in the south, and warmth was what I needed.

The arctic arena was freezing. I pulled my jacket tighter and tighter around myself as I continued to run. The arctic was grasping at the air in my lungs as I ran alone, as far south as my legs could take me.

I was alone. I always went alone. Of course, last time, I was with Cyra. But this year she was with that filthy jerk, that pig.

I could list some other things that I thought about him, but I would most likely get in trouble for using such language.

As I continued to run, the air in my lungs slowly returned. The air wasn't the only thing that returned though. Quickly, my lungs filled with dirt and dust, making it impossible to breathe.

I looked down at my feet, noticing where the white snow, began to bleed into sand and lots of it. I was in a desert? Stepping forward, my boots crunched on the sandy Earth. I walked, trying to be as silent as possible, hoping no other tributes had come in the same direction as me. When we were leaving our original stations, everyone seemed to be going west. I had no idea what that direction contained. Probably some other land-form.

I settled into a spot on the border of the arctic and desert. Surprisingly, It wasn't a bad climate. My right leg sat in the cold snow, while my left leg burned a bit from the sun. Hey, I wasn't complaining. I was still alive. After a little while, I closed my eyes and drifted off into sleep.

~

Waking up a few hours later, I grabbed my bow and tried to make the best of what I could find for food. In my pack, I found some scattered pieces of jerky and some dried fruit. Finding water was going to be easy.

I walked over to the snow part of the land-form and gathered some of the snow into an empty canteen they had given me in my pack. I walked slowly back over to the desert side of the land-form and put the bottle in the sun. Instantly, it melted and BAM!  Fresh water.

After eating a small meal, I cracked my knuckles and realized that the day was over. Strange, I didn't know how it had passed so quickly. I glanced up at the sky, and looked at the names. This year, as an added change, it showed what tributes were killed, as well as who killed them. I guess it was just another twisted way for each of us to find out who killed who.

I took a deep breath as the names began to flicker across the screen. I prayed that I wouldn't see Cyra's name, and thank God I didn't. But three names did stand out to me.

Calypso, Flame, Liliana.

Why you ask? They had all been killed by Cyra.

It was strange for me, seeing her name appear on the 'Killer' side of the list. I shook the thoughts from my head, and instead, I slowly walked over to the desert side of my small camp site. Taking the small edge of the stick I found, I dragged it lightly through the dirt, bored and lonely.

But then, an idea struck me.

For the entire Games, was I really going to sit here and have it easy? No. In these Games, there was something I had to do; something I should have done before.

I had to kill Shawn. I had to get Cyra back.

And some how in all of that, we both have to make it out of here alive. I didn't know how yet, but I would figure it out eventually. I needed to, I had no other choice.

"Hang on Cyra, I'm coming to save you."