"We need to find them," I say.
"Agreed but we have no idea where they could be."
"Or how big the Arena is. They could be anywhere," agrees Lyam.
"The careers will probably be trying to find them too."
"But if we don't find them, we'll have nothing," I counter. "Apart from these," holding up my pack of knives.
"And these," Lyam passes a sword to Jasper and keeps the sickle for himself. "Which isn't exactly a lot."
We continue traipsing through the wood, shafts of sunlight glistening off the mirror-like snow. The stillness on the air hangs around us like a veiled cloak. The smell of pine intensifies as the trees become more closely knitted; their branches trapping the light and making it increasingly dark. Our group keeps moving to the melodic march of our feet through the snow. Me hands tingle as snow falls incessantly onto them. Everything is so still, the sound of existence the only sound to be heard. My breath fogs the air like a small, billowing cloud. The adrenaline is slowly wearing off and my body feels tired from exertion. Jasper walks beside me, laboured breaths leaving him after every step.
The snow has stopped and we are able to see the ground beneath our feet. Strong trees shoot up around us, branches low enough to climb. The forest hums with noises. Weary and exhausted, our feet continue to carry us diligently as light streams through the branches and reveals a whole new world, or lack of it.
As far and the eye can see, there is nothing but a gentle mist. No trees, no ground, no snow a rocky cliff hems the uneven ground that is bare of pine needles and snow. Tentatively, I shuffle towards the edge. About twenty metres below, through the fine mist, I can see the glistening shimmer of ice and a snowdrift. It stretches away to my left and right; an unending hoop.
"Is this the end?" Jasper asks. Neither of us respond.
"I guess we'll have to find out," I answer. We begin to turn when I see Jasper pick up a small pebble and hurl it into the abyss. It sails away from us. Nothing happens.
"I don't think it's the end," Jasper says.
"Why's you think that?" I ask.
"My gut says so," he replies, giving me a sly wink. "And the Arena is tiny if it's only this small."
The fog starts to clear as we walk the perimeter in search of our crossing. Night is beginning to seep in, bringing with it an empty coldness. We find a triangle of trees with a mesh of pine branches to form a bed-like structure as the moon rises. Night watches are organised and I hoist myself onto the tree. Jasper climbs up after me and settle opposite me. Zipping my thermal top up to my neck, I settle against the rough, knotty bark. Unfortunately I have no way to secure myself, the drop is barely two metres, but I brace myself just in case.
The world lies still as the sky is engulfed in artificial light. The faces of the dead float high above us; no longer a part of our reality. So many faces. I feel sick at the sight of them, a knot of guilt forming. I hardly recognise any of them and all of them look so young. The boy who joined the other boys from 10 and 11 glows in the sky before the sky reveals the last two faces and the Anthem reaches its climax. I kiss my three fingers and raise them towards the sky. Lyam does the same below me and Jasper copies us uncertainty.
"Most of the Districts are still in the running," he comments. "Except 7 and 8."