I jolt my head out of view as quick as my reflexes allow me to. My fingers mold onto the stone that my fingers are locked around as I prepare to strike, fearing that I have been seen. I am paralyzed, too afraid to move, too scared to run, and find myself frozen in anxiety. It isn't until I hear the hushed voice of a boy that I am confident I've been overlooked: "We need to hurry. They went into the swamp and they'll probably be back soon."
The swamp? I mentally retrace my steps as the throbbing in my head makes itself known again. While I ponder, I bite my lip in an attempt to distract myself from the throbbing of my wound. I do not recall any signs of a swamp in the direction that I went earlier, nor would I want to enter one. A swamp sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, an intriguing biome filled with dangers all around. Snakes, crocodiles, frog mutations with long tongues glazed with poison; the possibilities are endless. Why would anyone go into a swamp at night, let alone the first night? They must be smarter than that.
The darkness has masked the identity of the three figures that I saw when I approached the cornucopia. I assume that the boy is talking about the Careers, which is crucial intel. I try to narrow down who the boys' voice could belong to. I am far too scared to lift my head over the slope and find out, so I brainstorm instead. Fourteen tributes left, the boys are alive from District One, Two, Four, Six, Seven, Eight, and Eleven. It obviously is not any of the Careers so that eliminates Lux, Malo, and Ripley. The voice sounds too mature to be the kid from Eleven, so I mark him out as well. That leaves District Six, Eight, and Jaws from Seven. Upon further thought I halfway cross out the boy from District Eight because I remember that he stood beside me at the cornucopia and ran in the opposite direction of the bloodbath. Theoretically, he could have met up with some allies, or made some in the forest, but those odds are slim.
"They did not leave much, so I doubt they plan on coming back. All of their supplies were in backpacks when they left," says the voice of a girl.
"Let's just take the water bottles and iodine, then get out of here before someone sees us," says the voice of a different girl.
Two girls and a boy. I assume that two of them are district partners from Six or Seven, the other girl being from a separate outlying district. Typically tributes stick with their district partners if they are both lucky enough to survive the early carnage, so that's where my educated guess comes from. I eavesdrop for a while longer, my dry tongue begging for the water that they speak of. I feel my heart is pounding, feeling its pulse in my temple, and I consider making a run for it hoping that they would leave me alone. That would make too much noise though, so I swallow the boulder in my throat and get as comfortable as my head allows me to against the slope. For a few moments, I try to match the voices with faces of different tributes, hearing them sorting through supplies. My attention shifts back to the situation at hand once one of the girls speak, "Let's go."
They tread softly on the rock, which tells me they don't want to draw attention to themselves. A forest fire of curiosity is burning inside of me as I wonder who the tributes are. It takes every ounce of self-control to resist standing up and seeing the faces that belong to the voices. I cannot afford to be spotted though with only a rock to defend myself against whatever weapons they have scavenged. Once I hear them travel down the slope, I wait a few more minutes before I decide to rise. It hits me in this moment that I will be sleeping alone tonight. I am too smart to roam around in the dark through the woods looking for a swamp full of questionable allies. However, I let a smile appear on my face because I have information that nobody else does. I know that there are two groups, the one that I belong to; the Careers, who headed into a swamp earlier. Then there's a smaller alliance of three that gathered up supplies from the cornucopia that the Careers left behind, they now head into the arena behind the tail of the cornucopia. Then there is me, the outcast Career who will sleep alone tonight. I know the latest update on eight of the other thirteen tributes in the arena. I may not have a knife, but knowledge can kill just as fast.
The moon glows bright enough for me to venture out a couple of minutes into the part of the woods that I came from earlier. It does not take me long to find a tree log that lays on the forest floor to cuddle up against for the night. With hands coated in dirt, I check the wound in the back of my head and feel around with my fingers. A yearned feeling of relief comes down over me when I discover that all the blood surrounding my wound is dry. Therefore, I am not bleeding anymore which is all that I can hope for until I find medicine. I eventually rake dead leaves away from a space beside the log, trying to create some sort of bed on the forest floor. Once I get comfortable, the chilly air that wraps around my body like a blanket causes my hands to turn ice cold. The pain from my head eventually turns dull long enough for me to manipulate my brain, telling myself that it is safe to sleep. Eventually, I give in to the feelings of fatigue that cloud my mind and doze off.
The sound of a cannon wakes me up the next morning, causing the birds resting in the trees above to fly away in distress. I jolt up immediately, feeling the back of my head throb as a new level of elevation is met. While I fight away the pain, I search the forest around me for any signs of trouble. After a quick look, I feel confident that I am not in danger. It seems pretty early so I begin to wonder if the cannon belonged to someone who was murdered in their sleep. If that's the case, then they should consider themselves lucky because that is probably the easiest way to go once the Games begin. I stretch the limbs of my body, surprised that I did not wake up at all during the night. At the Academy of Warriors, they taught us that nights would be rough at first and would take some getting used to, but surprisingly sleeping is the easiest thing I've done so far in here.
My head begins pounding again within a few moments of waking, and I groan in frustration. A part of me was hoping that it would have healed overnight but instead, I have to continue dealing with it. If I were forced to defend myself, I would be at such a disadvantage, even if I had knives. This confirms to me that my only play at this point is to find the Careers as soon as possible. If I wait, my chances of getting sick will only increase and I could potentially die from some virus that I will inevitably catch. That or whenever someone finds me, I will be far too weak to put up a fight, so I need to get on the move now.
I grab the rock that I slept beside and begin my journey to find my allies. In just a few minutes of walking, I find myself in the valley that surrounds the cornucopia. I remember the group of three talking about water bottles that the Careers left behind, the night before. The dryness in my mouth urges me to run as fast as possible through the valley, and into the tall grass that wraps around the outskirts of the cornucopia. I quietly listen to the arena for a few moments, trying to determine if it is smart to risk exposure for a potential water bottle. The way that the cornucopia is lifted, anyone nearby, even in the woods could see you at the top of the slope. The growl of my stomach tilts my judgment in favor of checking out the remains of the bloodbath, with hopes of finding something that I can use.
The feeling in my hands goes numb due to the paranoia that is pulsing through my veins. I take a deep breath before running to the slope, even though every time my foot hits the ground a stabbing feeling can be felt in the back of my head. It's worth it though because I can't risk being out in the open for any considerable amount of time. I crawl up the slope as quickly as I possibly can until I share the platform with the cornucopia. This is the closest that I have been to the structure, the goldenness reminding me of a signature golden knife set that my parents gave me for my birthday the year that I entered the AOW. The rock floor in the mouth of the cornucopia is bare, not even a piece of cloth left behind. This was a wasteful risk that I took but I refuse to make this trip pointless, turning around and scoping the arena. Treetops that look a lot like the ones that I came from earlier cover the arena, with no signs of difference. I walk around the cornucopia and check out the other side, being able to see a slightly more wooded area deeper into the forest. I decide that I will head in that direction, stepping down the slope as I carefully watch my foot placement.
That's when I hear a sudden heavy wind in the distance, accompanied by the hushed sound of leaves that are rustling together. I quickly climb back up the slope to get a better look over the arena as a hovercraft dips a claw into the treetops, pulling a dead tribute out of the forest and then disappearing into the sky. The Capitol uses hovercrafts to collect the bodies of fallen tributes, afterwards putting them in temporary wooden coffins that they mail back to the tributes' designated District. That body must be tied to the cannon that woke me up this morning, which means there are tributes in that direction. The hovercraft was deep into the woods, and I am slightly impressed that I was able to hear it from where I stand.
I kneel down next to the cornucopia trying to stay as discrete as possible, facing in the direction of where the hovercraft was so that I don't forget its location. I wonder who the tribute was, refusing to worry about it being Malo. Nonetheless, if they were murdered then the murderer is still lurking in the general area of the body. It could be the Careers, but it also could be someone else. My brain struggles to decide whether it is smart to venture out in that direction or not. For all I know there could be a rabid beast in that section of the woods that just dismembered the tribute that was lifted into the sky, currently awaiting its next victim. If it were the Careers and I were to start now, then by the time I made it there they would most likely be at least a mile away. A sharp pain that shoots through my head reminds me that I need to make a decision fast. With little time to spare, I give into the curiosity of the hovercraft and slide down the slope, headed in that direction.
I underestimated how quickly the feeling of thirst and hunger can consume your body. I feel like my body has switched to survival mode, slowing down so that it does not deplete all of its nutrients. I remember back to the day of the Reaping, craving the cold sausage links that my dad made for me before we went to the Fray. As I walk, I reminisce the taste of the orange juice that the Avox served me before Brutus lied about my mother's whereabouts. I unburden myself with the thought of Brutus, trying to remain alert as I walk through the woods. The trees that are scattered throughout the forest are like the ones that I came across earlier with very few noticeable landmarks, making it difficult to keep myself on the right track.
The stinging of my head wound has lessened to a dull throbbing pain that is easier to handle. However, it has done this before, and I know that it is only a matter of time before I am curled up in a ball dealing with a migraine. I feel a slight breeze that travels through the forest as the temperature begins to rise. The dirt that coats my skin from sleeping on the earth last night causes me to itch all over. I visualize the bugs that must have found a temporary home under my clothes while I slept, squirming at the thought.
I walk for about ten minutes, alone in the Hunger Games. The group of three from earlier could be in these woods with me right now, ready to take me down. Or there could be some lone tribute that sees that I am unarmed, ready to pounce on the opportunity to take out a Career. My life must be forfeit if any of the other tributes want to win. The paranoia of being alone causes me to pick up my pace, eager to find the career pack, but more importantly, Malo. I wonder if he feels betrayed by me, thinking of our hug before we were escorted to our launch rooms yesterday. I miss him which is a hard realization to come to. My emotions have slowly weaved themselves into my gameplay and I am afraid that my judgment will become clouded with him around.
Just as I begin to fear that I have made the wrong choice going in this direction, a small parachute glides down towards me from the sky. A sponsor? The first feeling is confusion, baffled that anyone would be betting on me right now. I am alone and weaponless with a huge target on my back being from District Two. Next, I feel a mixture of relief and excitement, hoping that medicine will be in my palms soon. As the parachute comes down onto me, I realize that there is not any medicine attached to it, instead a simple water bottle. I grasp it in my hand's mid-air and feel the coolness from the steel bottle. I needed this bad, and for a moment I want to thank Brutus but my ego will not allow me to mummer those words.
I quickly untangle the water bottle from the parachute and then unscrew the top of it, rushing it to my lips. It is a small bottle, maybe the length of my hand from my wrist to my middle finger, but I do not care. I let the waves of water crash against the walls of my mouth. For a moment I consider leaving a bit in the bottle so that I can wash my face and hands with it but quickly decide against it, my thirst becoming too dire. It takes me less than a minute to empty the bottle and leave it bone-dry. I feel rejuvenated, and then begin to wonder if I should have used some of it to clean the back of my head. Nonetheless, there are people out there that want to see me succeed in the Capitol. Brutus was able to gather up enough donations to get me water, which is honestly probably one of the cheaper gifts, but it still is a big deal to me. I check the parachute, curious if there is any further use for it, and that is when I see a slip of paper. Similar to the one that had my name on it at the Reaping, I unfold it and read the print.
You need to kill.
My head begins to act up again, causing me to sit down against a tree and take a moment to rest. I need to kill, is that so? It won't be Malo, I hope he knows that. Brutus oversees my sponsors, so this is a message directly from him. Tributes with a higher kill count will naturally gain more sponsors, which is probably what Brutus is getting at. If I had my knives or even an axe then I would not hesitate to challenge anyone in the arena. Does he want me to bust someone's skull in with this stone? Probably. Maybe if I had killed the District Ten boy at the bloodbath, I would have received a water bottle twice the size. I know I am skilled, and I know that I can kill. I have had a rough start but really if I had not slipped going up the slope would I even be in this situation? I was prepared to enter the bloodbath and take down as many tributes as humanly possible. Anger pumps through my veins, angry at myself and then at the Capitol.
My heart rate feels increased, flustered by my thoughts as I stand up and take an impulsive turn to the left. I sprint off, fueled by adrenaline from my sponsor and emotions. My head begs for attention, pulsing as I rush through the forest. I am gripping onto the stone in my dominant hand while my water bottle loosely rests in the other. The pace of my movement eventually eases to a steady walk as minutes turn into hours. As I roam the woods, I think about how much I took for granted back in District Two. This is the longest that I have ever been without food in my entire life. I bet the other Careers are basking in sponsors of full course meals while I skim the ground for bushes of berries. Nothing to be found.
The farther I travel in this new direction, I notice that the woods have suddenly gotten a lot denser. The trees that used to be open and distant are now within a few feet of each other. The ground that I walk on also feels coarser, and I conclude that this is a different kind of forest. These trees are a lot taller, and I believe are called spruce trees. The trunks of these trees are a lot smaller than the ones I have seen so far and are covered in thin scaly bark. It would be hard to hide behind them and go unnoticed, which causes me to move more carefully. The branches on the trees do not begin to poke out until at least ten or fifteen feet high, with spirally needlelike leaves that point out in all directions. The ground is noticeably different as well with more vibrant vegetation, and rocks of all shapes and sizes that decorate the forest floor. Birds chirp in the trees above, and the forest seems alive. This part of the arena is a lot more visually appealing, but something feels uneasy about it. Almost like everyone will want to explore through here, creating a dangerous place to be.
I tiptoe, trying my best to avoid creating sound and it takes me a minute to realize that there is a white noise lurking in the air. The sound of moving water. I immediately tune my ears to the noise and try to determine what direction it is coming from. I make a hasty guess and jolt deeper into the forest, realizing that these woods are a lot more leveled. Before, everything was pretty much on flat land, but now there are hills big and small that accompany the undergrowth. I do not stop scampering, searching in every angle for the water that is progressively getting louder with every step.
After a few more moments of running I become face to face with a massive waterfall that renovates the entire forest. My face eagerly lights up as I jet for the stream that spews out from the tumbling water. I surge my arms into the clear current of water, cupping a mouthful of it in my hands and then drinking it. The rhyme that we were taught in the Academy of Warriors enters my memory, "Water that is moving is water worth pursuing." I cannot remember exactly why but I do remember that in most scenarios you do not need to purify water that is on the move. I dip my hands in a few more times and drink up until my stomach warns me to stop. Afterward, I fill my water bottle up to the brim, and then seal it tightly.
With plenty of water making its way through my body, I begin to wash my hands. I rub them together vigorously as I watch the dirt disappear, and then I work on cleaning my arms. I discover a scratch on the back of my arm that I did not know existed, and I make sure to rinse it well. I then move to my face, finally ridding myself of the blood from the District Ten boy. I lean into the stream and allow the cascade of water to clean out my pores. I take my hand and lightly wave water into the wound that revolts in a sting. It is a good sting though, one that indicates that it is being cleaned of harmful germs. The cool feeling of water washing throughout my scalp sends tingles down my spine. I finally feel like I am making progress.
I lift my head up out of the water for a final time and that is when I hear the voice of a tribute. I jerk my head into the direction of the sound to see the thirteen-year-old boy from District Eleven, trotting through the woods. I grab my rock that I had laid down beside the stream and prepare to attack. He puts his hands around his mouth, forming a cone to amplify his voice in a hushed tone. "Tonight, we will sleep in the swamp again!"
I am ready to charge at him until I render what he is saying. Who is he talking to? The thought that I could be entering a brawl with more enemies than just him is enough paranoia to hold me back from running towards him. He lets it out again, "Tonight, we will sleep in the swamp again!" Has he lost his mind? I do not see anyone near him but he is clearly talking to someone. The frogs that croak around me seem just as confused as I am. What is this swamp that I keep hearing about? This voice did not come from the boy that I heard at the cornucopia last night, meaning that he is either alone or there is a third alliance in the game. I quickly comb through my thoughts and try to make sense of what is going on.
"Tonight, we will sleep in the swamp again!" Says the small boy as he begins to blend in with the forest, heading out of my view. I sit in complete bafflement, trying to piece together what just happened. In fear that there are other tributes nearby, I grab my water bottle and head back into the brush of the forest that I came from, a few yards away from the waterfall. I squat down and scan the arena with my eyes, looking for other tributes that had decided to team up with the ultimate underdog. A minute passes, then two, and then I wonder if I had just missed a golden opportunity to get an easy kill. Brutus is probably cursing at the screen right now. I begin to feel like I had just taken one step forward when I found a reliable source of water and then two steps back when I let the boy get away. I let a swear word escape my lips but am cut off by the voice of Ripley, "When we find Carmen, we'll let her go in her sleep so that she doesn't have to suffer."