dnf, but it's hunger games

-nine

before i know it, night falls on the first day.
i make camp in the underbrush of a raspberry bush, smearing mud on my face as a pathetic attempt to camouflage myself.

i have almost a clear view of the sky when the anthem plays and the faces of the dead tributes are shown. i try not to hold my breath and wait for Tommy to show, and i tell myself i don't care if he dies, but he doesn't show up so it's fine. i count them off with leaves from the bush, and by the end of the anthem, there are 13 leaves in my hand.

11 tributes left.

the end seems a lot closer than before. maybe it's just the fact that it went from 23 opponents to 10, or that i've at least got a string of team between myself and Puffy.

going to sleep makes me an immediate vulnerable target. but drowsiness won't help me fight off any enemies, or catch any food.

i count my inventory before i go to sleep.

4 knives
1 pack of jerky
a pair of gloves
1 raw chicken
1 litre of clean drinking water

and then i fall asleep.

~~~

i dont know how much time has passed by the time i wake up. it couldn't have been long, because my settings still look about the same.

i make up my mind to start leaping from tree to tree, like the fruit trees in District 11, instead of taking my chances running on foot. the breeze above the tree line is refreshingly soft, and it brushes my hair out of my face. i can practically feel the cameras crawling on me as i raise my arms slightly, like i'm trying to fly.

instead, i ball my hands into fists and sprint from one branch to the next, dodging the weak ones and planting my feet square on the bases of the branches. if i close my eyes, which i'm too paranoid to do, it would probably feel like home again.

i keep quiet. the rustling of the trees from my feet mixes well with the wind, so when i hear voices beneath me, it's easy to pause and camouflage.

two boys below me, sitting around like it's the school yard. picking at food and washing their clothes and hair in the little stream beside them.

"i think this'll be interesting. those little ones- the two with the weird accents? i think they've paired." the mop of head swings around.

"really? isn't one from 3 and one from 11? what a wacko."

a pale hand reaches out and slaps him. "they're kids, Sap. probably just scared."

there's the cracking of a branch, and from the opposite side of the stream stumbles out another boy, this time with a weirdly woven grass hat.

the boy with finer hair, Sap, flicks out a knife and readies it, but when the person reveals themselves, he sighs and puts it away.

"jesus, Quackity, we thought you were another tribute." he tuts.

the Quackity boy shrugs and drops a small backpack on the rocks at Sap's feet. "sorry. but i got us berries, and i sawed down some bigger branches for a base or a fire."

the boy with pale hands and huge hair claps. "you're so smart, little lumber boy! Sap, put away your knife and check the berries."

i swallow, hard. the trio below me looks happy, content, together. will i have to kill them? will i have to be killed by the boy with the knife, or the jumpy little pale boy? watch their faces play out over the anthem?

my stomach sags with a new sway of sick. i stand up and quietly start running again.

i really need to start getting my shit together and stop attaching myself to every person i encounter. it's just more people i have to kill in the end.

Tommy, i've known his whole life in 11. he's a sweet kid, and i try not to think about never seeing him again, but it would probably happen.

that George, i've known since the Hunger Games began, since the reruns of the readings and i saw him, this skinny, short little thing quietly but strictly volunteer as tribute. i don't even know him, but..

mention that boy you were fawning over.

Tom's right. the Capitol wants a show, i'll give them a fucking show.