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It was snow. The whole arena. It was snow, and ice, which made everything so much more difficult. The Game Makers must have been proud.

     Rio was running before he realised it, practically ignoring all that he been said to him beforehand. Kis told him to listen to Finnick. Finnick had told him to listen to Finnick. There wasn't the time to think, he must have known that especially.

     There were items strewn around him as the other twenty three tributes raced about. It wouldn't be hard to find water, not in this, heat would be the issue. Thank God he knew how to light a fire; a cave would be ideal. Rio knew the items would help him as much as they were enticing.

     Everyone knew that the Careers would take charge of the cornucopia, but they would have to do it without District 4 this year. Ondine didn't have the skills, and Rio didn't want to have to rely on anyone else. That was why he didn't race to the centre. He only wanted a bag or two, maybe a weapon to defend himself.

     The backpack swung over his shoulders on the tightest setting possible, so it wouldn't slow him down. Though, his feet sunk in the snow with every step; they were all in the same position. It was ridiculously hard to navigate. He would have to brainstorm that later.

     Really, that should have been the end of it. He should have run there and then to safety, or as safe as you can be when you're stuck in the arena of death. But he could see the knives only ten feet away, and they would come in handy. There was only ten of them. Even so, he couldn't risk a game without something to keep himself safe.

      So, he ran. And he got there. But that was when he saw a girl facing him. They were just staring at each other, like their lives didn't depend on it.

     Rio didn't recognise her. Why would he? In all of the training, he'd been so focused on himself, he didn't take in anyone else. She was thin, and small, and she wasn't moving.

     There was screams from behind him, but he couldn't turn his head. That was as much a death sentence as staying still. God, he hated what he had to do. Actually, he felt like he was going to be sick as the blades tightened in his grasp.

     He shifted his weight slightly, and as he began to run, he threw one of the knives. It knocked her back into the snow. Rio didn't know if she was dead. He didn't have time to check. But her sacrifice was his escape.

As soon as he made his way towards the tree line, he was thankful for the amount of clothes he was wearing. He knew, otherwise, he would be dying of exposure within the day. His feet were buried within the snow, and there was no room for movement. When he looked over his shoulder, he could see the hoards fighting and battling it out, stains of red ruining the scenic arena.

At first, Rio didn't know where to go. He knew water would be important, but he could just melt the snow and bottle it if he needed to. Perhaps somewhere to sleep would be better.

If he found somewhere to stay out of the way of others, then the day would be a success.

However, it only seemed right that he be put in another awkward situation. As he trekked through the snow filled forest, his back heavy from the bag he'd yet to look through, he saw someone he should have avoided.

It was the boy from District Three. The one he'd talked to in training. The one who wanted an alliance with him, but Rio couldn't make his mind up.

     He was carrying an abundance of things, blood splattered over his cheek. From the distance the Van Oss boy was at, he had a clear shot. His knife could have been between his eyes, and he wouldn't have batted an eyelid. Although, it did seem unnecessary. He didn't want to be responsible for so many people dying. If that girl from District Three truly was dead, then that would never leave him.

Fluid || Finnick Odair Where stories live. Discover now