The 45th Hunger Games: The Tribute of District 4 (Watty Awards 2012 completed)

Chapter 19

That meant that there were ten of us left. The four of us, obviously, were alive. Then there was Boone, Xavier, Keegan and three others. I remembered the female from 3 who I underestimated. Her name escaped me, and so did the female and male from 8 and 10 respectively. The male from 10 had scored higher than most of the tributes. The only one unexpected in living today was the one from 8.

I had expected that Lit be one of the eight tributes near the end.

“How many did you get rid of today?” Slate asked to no one in particular.

“Two,” Lark and Taffeta said at the same time.

“Same,” Slate said, looking at me.

“Three, all female,” I said, as if the gender mattered. In the Hunger Games, being female wasn’t considered a disadvantage. We could be just as strong as the males in the arena. “I made sure Lit didn’t live after today. It would have been annoying to have her and Boone together. They were pretty good during trainings.”

They looked impressed. I had not gotten rid of only weaklings, but an actual contender. “Boone’s one to watch though,” Taffeta said, leaning back on a tree. “I saw him kill that guy from 6 with his bare hands, and that was while running.”

“Our mentors wanted him as an ally,” Lark said, wrapping a blanket around herself. I saw that she hid the two machetes underneath though. “We were open for one more, with Xavier backing out.”

“I’d be more worried about him than Boone though,” I said, taking a bite out of my pack of beef. “With that trident I saw him with, he’s got the same fighting chance as the four of us.”

“Unless he ends up like Chiffon,” Slate said darkly.

One of us could really just end up dead because of the arena and the Gamemakers messing around with us.

“We should get some sleep,” Lark said, after a few minutes of silence. “I’ll guard first. You need to rest up Serena. You’ve been swimming and climbing. You’ll be even doing more work tomorrow.”

The need for survival was what kindness could afford me right now. I knew that I wouldn’t be stabbed in my sleep. The night was cold though, but I didn’t want to use my sleeping bag on ground. If anyone wanted to attack, it would just be a cause of struggle.

Slate, who seemed to act on impulse, sat next to me and wrapped his arm around me. He used his backpack as a pillow and I squeezed into his side, just like all those times at the chaise in the balcony.

Sleep was difficult to come by. I kept waking up every few hours, and I saw that even Lark was starting to tire out, with her head leaning down when she felt sleepiness overcome her. I was about to volunteer to take watch, but Taffeta, who had also been awake, said that he would take the next one.

Lark didn’t hesitate at the offer and she fell right to sleep.

I had about a few more hours left before I woke up fully. The sun was rising high above our heads. I didn’t know how long I was out for. I felt like I had slept for only a few minutes, but it seemed the rest of them were up and about. Slate had wrapped a blanket around me and put his backpack under my head.

They were sharpening their blades and collecting tufts of grass. They probably knew enough to understand that I could make a net out of anything that could act as strings. There was a line of string inside my pack. I had the foresight to know what it was for. Everyone else would probably just discard it, not knowing what to do with it. It was too thin to be used as rope, and wouldn’t kill if someone decided to use it as a weapon to strangle someone.

I made hooks out of the thorns from a few plants nearby. I carefully attached it around the strings in a way that it wouldn’t dislodge. In District 4, as long as you had some string and a hook, you were good for fishing.

“You guys don’t have to be completely useless,” I joked, and they smiled weakly as they watched me at work. My fingers were too quick to catch. They wouldn’t know what I did to achieve such results. “Just attach a few crumbs of bread at the end and wait for the current to bring the string farther. Remember to wrap your hands around the string and you might want to put on the gloves from the Cornucopia. If you get anything, you’ll be pulling it like a tug-of-war, and the string might even bury into your skin if you’re not careful.”

I handed each of them a lengthy strand of the string and I watched their doubtful faces turn into resignation. What else could they do? They could hunt down the other tributes, but we needed food too.

We weren’t in any hurry to kill everyone off, since it was just the second day. If the Gamemakers wanted some killing action, we’d know it. They’d have some mutts come out or some ‘natural’ catastrophe happen to bring us together if there was another tribute nearby.

For now, we were left to do as we pleased.

We moved our camp to edge of where the stream ended and started to become salt water. I could weave in peace, and they could wade into the water, fishing for food.

Most likely, they wouldn’t catch anything at all, but it was better than having them sit around and be bored. A Career who felt useless would be unstable. Since I was one of the tributes within reach, they could just end up trying to kill me out of sheer frustration.

The day flitted by uneventfully. The net that I made was only halfway done, as the sun slowly hid again. It was difficult. The grass strands were only a few inches long, and I had to tie them together and use more than one strand just so it would hold when large fish swam into it. It was frustrating, with the dry grass breaking right in between the ones I had already finished.

I was very good at making nets back home. I could make one in an hour and produce good results. The resources at home were healthy and made for nets though, so it wasn’t very difficult.

I couldn’t blame Taffeta, Slate and Lark for giving me such poor materials to work with. These were the best that we could do. Even I looked around to see if there was something else to work with. I couldn’t use the string, because it would end up too short. My fingers were aching from the strain of bending and holding one end of the net to stretch it out.

I also had to test it out in water to see if it wouldn’t disintegrate. So far, it seemed to hold. I tried catching one tiny fish that was heading into the stream. It was strong enough for it, even as the little thing thrashed inside the one part of the net.

After a while, I had Slate take the long leaves from the trees and have him tear it into long, thin strings. This seemed to suit him better, since he ended up with a hot head after fishing.

Lark surprisingly caught two already. She had severed the head just so it would stop slipping away, after she learned from her first catch that managed to head back into the water and escape.

With the long strings from the leaves, I managed to make the net faster and more durable. I just needed to do the tufts of grass as the base, I guess. Plus, it made sure that the holes were smaller and fish couldn’t escape easily.

When the sun went down, I gave up and decided that I would finish the rest tomorrow. They didn’t pressure me to finish too soon, since we had a pretty good meal with the fish that Lark and Taffeta had managed to scrounge.

I was forced to get some sleep again, with Slate on watch this time. I was restless, because I knew these tiny sessions of relaxation and rest could be over anytime. I didn’t know how long the Capitol citizen’s attention spans were, but I knew that they would crave some blood sooner or later.

I only fell asleep as Slate stroked the hair away from my forehead as I lay my head on his lap.