ACT I, CHAPTER EIGHTEEN ❛horn of plenty ❜ content:blood/gore/injury, starvation/hunger, death/murder, violence, general angst, dissociation.
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She startles awake to the deafening trumpets of the Capitol Anthem, instinctively jolting upright from her bed of sand in a panic, dust sloughing off her ruined clothes. Though sunlight burns her eyes, she still swivels around looking for a threat while squinting. It takes her a moment to realize that, no, the noise isn't Huxley coming to finish her off. It's an announcement.
Her visual search finds nothing strange and she sits back, a little more relaxed, but not by much. With her good hand, she gingerly brushes the sand off her arms and legs as the trumpets cease.
"Congratulations to the ten surviving tributes!" Claudius Templesmith's voice echoes off of the arena walls, filled with enthusiasm. "We have decided to invite you all to a feast."
Madaket scowls, although she's sure the cameras can't see it with the gas mask on her face. An "invitation." What a joke. As if this is some elaborate dinner party that all the tributes will attend; she imagines tucking a napkin into the hem of her blood-stained shirt and cutting a slice of steak with a fork and knife. She'd turn to Huxley, who would be sitting with an equally posh posture and polite table manners, and say, "Huxley, could you pass me the salt before you slice my throat?"
Claudius must have realized how ridiculous he sounds because he continues: "Now hold on. Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately. Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at noon. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance."
The broadcast cuts out, and silence returns to the arena around her. Madaket sits down in the sand and thinks for a moment as she readjusts the gas mask on her face. What does she need desperately? Definitely food and water. She gave all her supply to. . . her heart aches at the memory, hot tears springing in her eyes. An unsteady breath leaves her lips, and she shakes the dark thoughts from her mind.
Her stomach growls as she realizes that she hasn't eaten in over twenty-four hours. She didn't even think about eating. In between fighting for her life, catching up on sleep, and hearing people die, food was the least of her concerns. By now, she's dehydrated and starving. And there isn't much option in the way of foraging, unless she wants to eat sand and dead, gnarled cacti.
Yes, she needs something desperately. But can she afford to attend the feast?
Madaket runs over the living tributes in her head, trying to weed out the threats. There are two Careers left: Copper from District 1 and Slatia from District 2. Both from 7, the girl from 8, the boy from 9, the girl from 12. And she can't forget Huxley and Marie from 10. The Careers and the pair from 10 are the biggest threats, but Madaket can't exactly write off the rest as non-threats. Sure, the other outliers seemed like no threat in the Capitol, but they had made it this far in the arena. That is no small accomplishment, so begrudgingly, she has to assume everybody is deadly and aiming to kill her.
