Day 2, 5:20 am
As soon as the sun hits the snow, I'm up. It's a goddamn wonder how the bright sun can avoid melting the snow, but it's fake, of course. Even the snow under my boots doesn't seem real.
The tiredness will hit me soon, but I can maybe keep going for another twelve hours before I need a rest. It's been about a day since Argentia woke me to go on the hovercraft. I've been in the arena for less than that.
I'm good on food, plenty of roots and plants grow beneath this snow. I have plenty of water and and clean snow to melt. The sun is warm enough that I'm not cold, and my sleeping bag kept me warm enough last night when I dared use it- the cold keeps you alert.
Most people hide out in the early days of the Games. I'm just going to travel through the mountainous woods until I hear a cannon, then get scared into hiding for awhile. I'll sleep then. Someone just has to die today.
The snow froze over during the night, so as long as I walk lightly and don't slip, I won't leave tracks. I trek through the woods, watching for any animals. The rabbits and squirrels and things here are unafraid of humans, and I poise to throw the axe twice before actually getting up the "guts" to do it- and immediately burst into tears. I keep up the act for a minute or two before moving forward to actually pick up the dead rabbit. I'll cook it later, once I find another cave. There are plenty here, but I want one that is deep enough to conceal some smoke from a fire, but not enough that it might contain one of the Capitol's monsters.
At noon, I'm beat. The water and tree bark isn't keeping me going enough, not without adrenaline to supplement it. And I don't really feel like starting shit with the first tribute I find.
Fortunately for me (but not for whoever just died), a cannon goes off. Fourteen left. Considering it's the middle of the day, the Careers are likely hanging out by the Cornucopia, pigging out on preserved food and resting on piles of sleeping bags. Unless one of them went for a piss and came across someone and one of the two ended up dead, the cannon was probably for someone who ate something they shouldn't have.
At the sound of the cannon, I jerk out of whatever stupor I've been walking in and bolt to the nearest tree for shelter. Once I've allowed my breath to slow, I reevaluate my hiding spot.
I pick a thick, tall pine tree and push the branches aside until I get to the center of it. I climb high, swearing at the sap that sticks to my hands. I'm used to it, but I hate the feeling. Once I judge myself to be high enough, I break apart some branches and lay them on top of each other to make a sort of platform for myself to lay on, while still focusing the majority of my body weight on the actual branches.
I fish out the hand warmers from my bag. You press something inside of them to make the hot, and once they cool down, they have to be at freezing point to work again. With the snow, that won't be a problem, and they'll be invaluable. I lay out my bedroll, and once I get comfortable, I sleep.
The anthem wakes me. I peer through the trees and can barely make out the girl from District 11. No one important. I doubt she died from a plant, being from Eleven. Maybe something attacked her.
I keep myself busy that night by sharpening a stick with my pocket knife. It could maybe make a spear or something, but I don't really care. It's just to keep my hands busy. I carve patterns and words into it- my name, Willow's name, my father's name. The seal of District 7. And when it's too dark to see, I carve the names of the other tributes. The ones who will die before I go home. As the sky begins to lighten, I see that the stick is unreadable, I've carved enough so much into it that you can't see anything at all. I peel the bark off and throw it into the other trees. It's a game that keeps me busy within these Games.
But when five cannons go off, each after the other, my blood runs as cold as the snow. Either I've been blessed with the Careers making a suicide pact, or two alliances have clashed. My money's on the Careers being the winners. It's uncommon for a few of the outer districts to bind together, but not unheard of. But with my isolation policy, I'm in the dark with my speculations.
There are nine of us left, and we're only on day three. Considering the bloodshed spaced so close together, I won't be surprised if the Gamemakers allow for a lull, a few days of boredom for the audience and a reprieve for us.
There have been fifteen deaths. The nine at the bloodbath. The girl from Eleven yesterday. And the five just now. I won't find out who they are until tonight, but a part of me hopes Henry was among them so I won't have to kill him.
I've done nothing of interest to the Capitol audience aside from my stealing supplies the first day and my tears at killing the rabbit. Carving the stick may have earned me a few minutes of screentime, for the bored viewer at three am, but I can't tell.
Speaking of the rabbit, I need to cook it today. It'll go bad soon. Considering that it's not light out yet, the sky still gray, any smoke I make will be hidden, but my time is limited.
I skitter down the tree, backpack on and axe in hand. If someone finds me, I can probably outrun them, but not if I have to stop for my supplies.
I break a hole in the ice and dig into the ground- it's not frozen. I take brown pine needles to use as tinder and sticks to use as fodder, build a spit based on what I remember from training. I use my knife to skin the rabbit, hiding the useless pieces and bones in a pile of fallen forest debris and snow. Once it's cooked, I eat half of it- the first actual food I've had in days. Tree bark doesn't fucking compare to this.
I want to save it for later, but I have nothing to wrap it up in. It's a pine forest, so no leaves, and I'm not using my hat. Stuffing myself with it doesn't sound like a bad option at this point, so I finish it off and wipe my hands on my pants. I choose a different tree to sleep in for the day and return to the mountains and caves in the evening. I don't trust the mountain, not with avalanches, but forests are my element.
I keep an eye on the Cornucopia and the Careers as I make my way back to the caves. Not much action, they must be recuperating from the fight early in the morning.
At the base of the mountain, I pick another tree to stay in. Lower, less cover, but I need a place to wait out the night, not sleep. I make myself comfortable and begin whittling another stick. But when the anthem starts to play, I realize my error- I can't see the sky through the pine needles. I squint at the sky, but I can't make out faces. I would recognize Henry's, of course, but I don't know who's dead. Dammit! I can already tell that this will come back to bite me.
Fortunately, I get another two days of my cycle without seeing a soul. The others must have fascinating personalities. I cook a squirrel and resist the temptation to open my can of beans.
I don't know what the hell the Gamemakers like so much about night, but after the anthem on the fifth night, I hear screams, coming from a cave. Looks like I've been right to stay away from them- someone comes crawling out of one, trying to desperately fight off a giant cat of some sort. I can't tell what it is, but the very sight and yowls coming from it make my skin crawl. I want to climb higher in my tree, but I'm rooted to the branch. A voice in the back of my head tells me that motion is not my friend. I watch as the person on the ground manages to strike at the cat until it retreats, but collapses on the ground, clutching their chest.
I wait for the cannon. One more dead and they'll interview our families. One certainty about Willow. I'm sure Acacia will try and get her two cents in, but Willow will almost certainly be targeted for questions. And unless it's him writhing in the ground, they'll be interviewing Henry's family too.
Henry's family doesn't know me. Willow will hopefully go along with what I've said- she knows I'm tough, but my "true colors" showing in the past week will have made some sort of impact on her. Acacia and the twins will provide no hindrance to my persona. They'll act saddened by my imminent death, but will also be asked how I've lasted this long. And no one will say it, but I'm sure there's betting on who will kill me.
I'll wait until there's six left. Just enough to track down and kill most of them, leaving one left to fight for the crown. Then I go home, move into Victors' Village with Willow, and I'll be free. The Capitol can't threaten me after that.
Still no cannon.
I peek out from the tree, and the tribute is gone. Dark smears in the snow, and footprints I can barely discern. Just fucking die already.
"C'mon," I mutter, tapping my fingers against a branch. The animal that attacked them is gone, and they're probably trying to nurse their injuries. If they managed to take shelter, then they must not be as badly hurt as I thought. Dammit.
With a sigh, I lean back against the tree trunk and take a slug of my water. It'll be a long night.
AN: Hello! So here's chapter 7, hope you enjoyed. Don't forget to vote or comment! (I love comments.)
Anyone seen Mockingjay P2 yet? I was a little disappointed that Johanna got cut from a lot of it, but I'll be following the book when I eventually get to that part- probably in another book or two. Unlike most THG fics, this won't end with her going home- I plan to continue a little more into it.
Anyway, see you guys next time!