The 49th Hunger Games

Day 8: Autumn and Kane

I sit in silence by the small pool I found, in a secluded grassy clearing. It's beautiful, but nonetheless I can't relax, and I keep my muscles ready, my bag slung over my shoulder in case I need to bolt suddenly up a tree. I momentarily allow my eyes to close as water from the artificial Gamemakers' spring bubbles up and froths into the crystal pool. I dangle my feet in the water, the day almost scalding in contrast the baltic temperatures recently. I sigh, splashing my face with the water and combing it through my tangled hair. Though I have no real way to get clean, I'm used to having no soap, shampoo or even water as I am used to going hungry, living in one of the poorest Districts of Panem. Being in the arena isn't so much difficult as scary and just plain grim. I'm even strong, though only 15, well experienced from climbing trees and walking miles around my orchard every day in harvest.

Suddenly I hear a noise. A rustle. Every sense is ready as I spring to my feet and throw myself up a tree, scrambling and hauling yet still somehow gracefully. Even though I doubt it's a threat, I don't want to risk it. I watched the Careers head off to the other end of the arena to hunt there a few days ago, and saw the face of the creepy but not quite fear-provoking District 1 boy in the sky, alongside the District 3 girl. I can imagine weeping faces back home, the girl's family and friends having to accept that Sparks Comet was just another piece of their Games. Although I'm already perfectly concealed in the greenery, I flatten my body closer to the branch I'm on as the next rustle sounds, nearer, clumsier. I watch through a gap in the tree's leaves as a medium-muscled, reddish-brown haired boy swats a few vines away irritatedly and staggers into the clearing. His shirt is torn in places, but he bears no wounds, and his trousers have been cut into jagged, fraying shorts. He must have given himself what you could call a 'summer makeover'. He kneels beside the pool and loudly splashes his face, panting. Then he shakes free the droplets, drags himself laboriously to his feet before picking off a berry from a bush directly underneath my position. I hold my breath, able to see the bright red specks. I know them. Sticky, sweet, pretty berries. I don't know their name. I don't even know if they have one. But I've seen their effect, back in 11. We always assumed the bushes around our orchards were harmless, but...apparently not. That's the clinch to their soft, supple texture and syrupy sweet taste. A venomous, painful, violent struggle to the light at the end of the tunnel. Or in this case, the light at the end of the Games.

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 I roll the little squishy berry between my thumb and index finger. Surely something so brightly coloured has to be dangerous. I badly need food. I'm down to my last cracker. Stitches warned me not to eat anything if I don't know what it is. I can almost hear him shouting at me through the screen, "Don't do it Kane! Don't be stupid!", the people in his vicinity keeping a wide berth. The image with that thought conjures up forces out a quiet, amused 'ha', and for a moment I want to play along with Stitches, leave him sighing with relief or cheering. Toss the berry aside, attempt hunting on an empty belly. Only for a second. Then I think, 'where will I go if I don't eat the berries? Will I starve to death?' I can barely hunt. I can't kill. I'm practically useless. If the berry is poisonous, my death will be quicker than starving or being murdered. If it's not, that's also a factor to my benefit. My laughter fades, leaving the ghost of a knowing smirk on my lips.

"I could be coming to you soon Blase. They can't hurt us anymore up there." I mutter, knowing my deceased partner can't hear me. 

I pop the berry onto my tongue, closing my eyes and swirling it around my mouth. The sweet sap is sticky and tangy. My teeth soon find a bitter little seed amidst the soft red flesh, so I take a deep breath, clench my jaw and - 

"No! Don't! Stop!" I spit the seed out in alarm and manage to stumble backwards. Then suddenly, a small weight crashes onto me and I'm knocked to onto my back. I yelp in protest as I see a wild-eyed, dark-skinned, jet-black-haired Autumn from District 11 on top of me.