The Eleventh Hunger Games~ A Mags Fanfic

Chapter Eleven: Day Two

(Pretend the trees in the pic are black lol.) So apparently 10 minutes is actually more like 2 hours, oops :x Sorry guys. BUT ON THE PLUS SIDE: UPDAAAATTEEE. I have been meaning to update this for so long it's ridiculous, but I'll admit I had a bit of writer's block towards the middle of this chapter. (Gah!) Also I apologize if my sentences aren't the best in this, but I tried to make this chapter longer than I usually do because you guys are just too awesome and deserve it. Seriously though, I can't thank you guys enough for the sweet comments I get on this story (you know who you are ;) ) They motivate me to continue this story and it seriously just makes me so incredibly happy :) But omg nearly 900 reads!!! YOU GUYS ARE SO FREAKING AMAZING I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!! But anyway, I'm sure you are wanting to get past this crazy author's note (whoa, it's weird calling myself an author haha) so I'll say goodbye. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE CHAPTER AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! :)

Chapter Eleven

                         My pulped feet quietly pad down the dry leaf forest. As far as I know, the only benefit to not having shoes is being able to tread lighter on your feet. My breath escapes into faint little puffs in the still air. Over the horizon, I can just barely make out the last cluster of trees, disappearing into the unknown. I casually rub my sandpaper tongue along the roof of my mouth as I weave my way in and out of the clinging aspen. I'm surprised the Game Makers haven't punished me for my easy escape yet. Usually by now the audience will get bored of the tribute and want some action. Unless there is some greater battle going on to distract them...

As if answering my thoughts a scream sounds in the distance, followed by the ritual boom of the cannon. A shiver runs up and down my spine. Could it be the boy from Seven...? The thought briefly flickers through my mind and is immediately dismissed. The scream sounded like a girl's...

I count the remaining tributes in my head. That leaves...thirteen including me. I suck in a breath.   That's nearly half of the tributes killed in just twenty-four hours.

Three hours later, and the only progress made is the sun. It hangs in the baron sky like a light bulb, casting a dry glow on the cadaverous arena. My raw feet ache beneath me while my stomach gives a hollow growl for food, in addition to my head swimming in dehydration. You could say I was having a bad day. But I suppose it is better than being dead...I hope...

Eventually, I end up sitting at the base of the tree, too tired to look for water. In all of my life, never have I walked so far in a mere day. The longest walk for me back in District Four was the occasional trek down the line of beach looking for greater places to fish when business was slow. Being the Capitol, they always grew bored of the types of seafood we carried in—it seemed as if every other month they wanted something more exotic and exciting, something to test their taste-buds. And so, the person who found the most exotic species of fish that month would be given a small reward and sent back to work. Unfortunately, my family was never one to receive the jackpot. Although at least we were able to have food on our table every night, even if it was the same cooked fish every month. That is another thing that I have never truly experienced. Hunger. They call it The Hunger Games for a reason I suppose. Never in my life have I felt this hungry, let alone thirsty. Most viewers think of the Games as a place where a kid gets slaughtered at the hands of a fifteen-year-old, but really, the most deaths are at the hands of nature and pure lack of elements.

When I open my eyes, the sky is a pastel pink and the sun has just slipped behind the horizon. Disappointment washes over me as I feel another pang of hunger. I was kind of hoping it was just a bad dream....I push past the emptiness in my stomach and immediately scold myself for falling asleep, let alone in such a vulnerable place. My eyes dart around the forest more out of instinct now than fear. I take a moment to consider my options: either stay here and sit the night out or move on and search for food. Here's the catch though, it is common for many of the tributes to...hunt—for lack of a better word—at night, especially the career tributes. A moment later I am slinking through the trees towards the dying sun. I wrap my jacket tighter around myself with a shiver. The shade of the trees spilling into the forest is like being submerged into an icy pond. My cold, pummeled feet lead me around the corner of a cluster of trees—and freeze. Two dark figures are treading through the leaves in the distance, their backs facing me. I recognize the voices immediately.