The Capitol anthem is not a pleasant sound to be woken up to, especially if you’re not from the Capitol. The trumpets blare across the arena, announcing yet another Gamemaker intervention; there’s a lot this year.
Yet again, Alithia appears in the sky, glaring over the top of the picture.
“Vibius, I’m perfectly capable of making an announcement on my own,” she snaps tersely, and there’s the sound of somebody complaining and the door slamming. Her attention turns back to the screen.
“Hello there, tributes,” she croons, “It feels like a long time since we last saw each other, doesn’t it? You seem to have been really busy.”
The remaining tributes look around. The ground is parched, in some places little more than piles of ashes. Their clothes are in tatters, their hair singed. Some are burnt and others are decorated in cuts and other people’s blood. All are deprived of sleep.
“I’m afraid the arena isn’t going to get any easier,” she explains, shooting a sharp, disapproving glance over the camera, “I don’t know what they’re doing in there but, well. I guess we’ll find out soon.”
As she speaks, the temperature drops dramatically and huge white flakes start to coat the ground. Winter is coming again. The wind turns sharp, biting at the tribute’s cheeks, and the flakes start to fall so quickly that they almost blot out the picture in the sky. Some of the sharper tributes were expecting it.
“Lovely. Well, I think you deserve a break. You’ve fought long and hard to get this far, and the home strait awaits you. There will be more challenges later. For now, we will not intervene. Use this time to gather supplies. Good luck, be wary, and may –“
There’s the sound of the door being thrown open and an angry voice, and a shot of Alithia glaring again before the camera tumbles to one side and flickers off.
The tributes turn their attention to the new arena.
What two days ago was an idyllic meadow is now nothing but bitter white, spindly trees poking through the blanket and drooping forwards. Clouds are bunching up over the horizon, blotting out the twinkling stars and casting shadows over the moonlit snow.
It is also cold.
Very, very cold.
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- The task is simple; find warmth.
- Kill a maximum of two tributes. You do not have to kill anybody.
- You have until midnight on Saturday, GMT.
- Word limit…1000 words.
Good luck, be wary, and may the odds be ever in your favour.
YOU ARE READING
Author Games: World Seasons
RandomThe author games is an interactive book where you make a character that is soon to be sent into a Hunger Games arena. Each week, I will post up tasks and you must write responses to those tasks in your characters POV, killing other members in the ga...
