The 1st Writer Games: Powers

Task #5 - Responses (Females)

.: Tiamera Ellen - District One :.

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.: Elizabeth 'Lizzie' Edison - District Three :.

I wake up first. It's a bad idea to fall asleep, but neither of us could help it. I reasoned correctly when I guessed that the others would be exhausted too.

I have one arm clutching the trusty, bloody crossbow, one arm curled around Benoit for warmth. Though it was warmed up considerably since I drifted off. It's dark, night. Stars glimmer in the sky, other worlds, miles away. It feels like 3, Spark, Ma, Watson are all on another planet, unreachable.

The anthem blares out; Benoit is asleep on my arm so mercifully he can't sing along. It must be the faces. I force myself to look. I won't be up there, which is a miracle in itself, I guess.

But there aren't any faces. There's just a voice, the Gamemaker who agreed to throw berries for me. The exact words go over my head, as does their bored tone, but the gist doesn't.

Supplies at the Cornucopia. Immediately, my gut instinct says not to go. We don't have much stuff, just what was from the girl's backpack. She's still alive. Like Benoit. It's a lottery, if you actually for here. But I don't want to chance it.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," groans Benoit. He's awake. I look down at him, searching for any sign that he's hurt or tiring. He feels warm under my arm. His cheeks seem hollow but apart from that...

"They just don't want to let us rest," he sighs.

"They're your people, not mine," I point out without thinking. His eyes crease a little around the edges but I can't tell if that's amused or angry. His hair is matted with patches of mud and pushed back from his face.

"True," he admits, "I think we go."

"We have stuff."

"Not enough for both of us," he says softly. I look away quickly, unable to suppress a shudder. I understand that; we may as well go or one of us will die anyway.

One of us will have to die at some point.

I don't want that to be me. But I don't want Benoit to die either. Would I die if he could live?

I sigh, pushing my arm from his shoulder and rubbing my foot.  What would Watson think?

He'd think that anything that got me out alive was good.

My instinct still says that I'm less likely to die if I stay away from the other tributes.

Something is shuffling over the crater, heading towards us, and it looks like...

"Sandstorm!" Benoit exclaims, pulling me to my feet. It's very colourful sand. Even from here, it stings my eyes. I stumble on the mud and rocks, risking a glance behind as Benoit tugs us up the side of the crater, swearing to himself.

"Erm...I don't mean to alarm you..." I stutter. Vicious violet water is flooding into the crater after the sand, crashing into ledges and hissing angrily around the edges.

Energy bursts into my legs and I scramble up and out of the crater, dragging the startled Benoit after me. The scene ahead of us is ominous and makes my blood run cold.

The vines thrash in front of the Cornucopia, flailing into the air, taller than both of us. Clouds gather above us, inky and blotting out the comforting stars. Mutts howl in the distance, from the orange and black forest. As we watch, horrified, the boy from 6 is hurled into the air and thuds into the ground in front of us, landing on his neck with a snap. His eyes roll but the cannon doesn't sound, and I look away as Benoit puts him out of his misery.