The Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games

Reyna

Tears roll down my cheeks. I haven't cried in years, not since Mom was killed, but what does it matter if I am going to die? I think back to Hylla's parting words. I'm glad at least one of us is strong like Mom. I'm not going to die without a fight. I have to do this, for Hylla. I wipe away the tears that have already found their way into my mouth. There's a knock on the door. Blinking, I get up from my bed and cross the room to open to the door. My mentor beats me to it. Bellona gestures for me to follow her.

"It's time, isn't it?" I ask, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. "For the Games to start." Bellona nods gravely. The elevator ride is short, since we're only on the second floor. I brush the nonexistent dust off the jacket my stylist laid out for me this morning. It's made of a lightweight material that looks like it would be rather useless in the Games. Just another example of President Jupiter's cruelty. Aside from the jacket, I'm wearing black pants and a green shirt, the standard outfit that all the tributes wear.

We pass Luke and Kronos as Bellona leads me to a door with a plaque on it.

WARNING: DO NOT ENTER.

Bellona scans a card hanging from a string around her neck, and the door unlocks with a click. The room is empty, except for a small capsule to deposit me into the arena. Bellona turns to me, shutting the door behind her, and for the first time since I've met her, she shows just a tiny bit of emotion. It's not there for long. She stands there awkwardly for a moment.

"Do your best." I nod, blinking away the moistness in my eyes. I don't look at her as I step into the capsule. I take a deep breath, and the glass doors close. The capsule starts to rise up, and I barely have enough time to wave goodbye before I'm plunged into total darkness.

~*~

The sun shines directly in my eyes, and I have to blink a few times before I can finally see clearly. The other tributes start to appear next to me, looking slightly disoriented. I survey the arena. There's a mountain range on one side, and a forest on the other. In the middle, there's a meadow with a river cutting through. Floating in the center of the river there's a small island with a giant, golden horn-shaped object. The Cornucopia. A booming voice cuts across the large field.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 65th Hunger Games!" He pauses for effect. "The countdown begins now!" An automated voice starts counting down from 60.

"59, 58," I start feeling dizzy. "44, 43," I try my best not to fall off the metal plate. "27, 26," My palms start to sweat. I hear Mom's voice in my head, telling me to be strong. I steady myself. "3, 2, 1!" The automated voice is replaced by that of Claudius Templesmith.

"Let the Games begin!" and with that, I take off running. I try to remember Bellona's advice. Grab a weapon, and then snag whatever you can. After that, avoid the Cornucopia. First I need to get to the Cornucopia. There looks to be a twenty-foot gap between the meadow and the island. District 2 is completely landlocked, so I never really learned to swim. I just barely manage to paddle my way through the mucky water.

Keeping Bellona's advice in mind, I snatch a silver spear and a black backpack from right under the nose of an unsuspecting girl from District 7 who's currently puking her guts out. Must be the nerves. The other District 7 tribute rushes up to her and drags her away to the woods, holding her protectively. I don't follow them. I'd hate to break up a not-so-happy couple.

Instead, I head north in the direction of a large tree. It could prove useful. I reach the area where the tree is, but the tree is on the other side of the river. I curse under my breath. It's not worth crossing the river again, considering that last time I barely made it out alive. I can't go to the forest; that's where everyone else is. And the meadow is completely out of the question. I want to stay as far away from the bloodbath as possible. I look to the only other option; the mountains.

On second thought, the mountains might not have been the best idea. They're steep, although I have to admit I was expecting that, and the high altitude makes it nearly impossible to breathe. I spot a ledge a few feet up that looks just wide enough to sit on. I refrain from giving a sigh of relief. Wouldn't want to jinx myself. I pull myself up onto the ledge and take a deep breath. I feel my ears pop as they adjust to the altitude. I gaze down at the arena. I can see everything from here. It's almost beautiful. Suddenly, a strangled cry pierces my ears and it's not so beautiful anymore. The first death. I shudder. The beginning is always the worst part. I'm just glad I got away before I could get skewered with a sword. Or so I thought. There's a figure heading towards me. My eyes narrow in recognition. Michael Kahale, one of the District 8 tributes. He has something in his hand. A boulder. I quickly scramble to my feet, taking care not to fall off the ledge.

I draw my spear from out of my belt, which happened to be the only place I could stash it. Michael takes a step back. It turns out to be a mistake. He slips on the steep slope of the rock, and stumbles backwards. There's a benefit to growing up surrounded by rocks; you know how to handle them. I watch as he falls back, hitting his head on the rocks below. I hardly wince. Serves him right. I turn my back on him and continue climbing the mountain. After a while, I find a ledge that looks wide enough to sleep on, and start to unpack.

Inside my backpack I find a sleeping bag, a few oranges, a full bottle of water, a packet of iodine, and a mosquito net. I frown at the last one. I'm not sure how useful a mosquito net is going to be on the top of the mountain. Then again, the Gamemakers could release some killer mosquitoes at me.

I spread out the sleeping bag across the ledge, smoothing out the wrinkles. I make sure to leave as wide of a gap as possible between me and the edge. I scoot into the sleeping bag, and refrain from drinking my water. Just then, the sun starts to set.

I brace myself for the cannons. Four loud booms ring through the arena. I'm surprised. Usually there's more at the beginning. I stare up at the sky, waiting for the faces to appear.

Gwendolyn Lewis, District 4. The face of a read-headed girl appears. She looks so innocent. (A/N Gwendolyns last name was never mentioned, so we made one up)

Connor Stoll, District 6.

Michael Kahale, District 8. That was the boy who attacked me. Good to know he died.

Leila Gardener, District 9. The pictures slowly fade away, leaving the sky blank. I curl up in my sleeping bag. Suddenly, there's a noise. A small boy appears, and though he looks no more than 14 physically, his eyes make him seem years older. His skin is oddly pale, like he hasn't seen sunlight in years. I soon recognise him as Nico di Angelo, the other tribute from District 9.

He looks understandably startled. I quickly get up, my hand on my spear. The boy puts both hands up in defense.

"Wait. I have a proposal." I pause. "How about you ignore me, and I ignore you, and we just pretend like we've never seen each other." I consider that. I stretch out a hand. The boy ignores it. He walks past me, and continues climbing the mountain. I stare at him as he clambers up the rocks. Something about him is weird, like he doesn't belong.

Hope you liked the chapter!

-Toodles!