Pyromania | The 60th Hunger Games

THIRTEEN

I wake mid-morning, the last of the careers to do so, to the sound of a cannon marking the death of a tribute.

For a moment, I look around in panic before remembering where I am. The bodies in the sandpit disappeared sometime after I fell asleep and the sun was creeping in from the east and lit up Martial sitting slumped against the opposite wall. He offered a pained grin and took a sip from his water.

I took a moment to stare at the wound on his arm. Wade didn't cauterise the wound in the end, but he had stitched it up with the materials in the medic pack. The wound was red and his skin raised.

Less than one day in and, already, he was wounded. The boy from district Two. A career. Weakened.

"Terra, come on," Sly and Gemma call me over, slinging packs onto their backs and taking their weapons into their hands.

"What?"

"The others will be on the move," Sly offered his hand out to help me up, the other picking up the machete I'd claimed. He shoved the weapon into my hand as Gemma held out another pack, "the cannon will make the younger ones panic, others will move camp..." He raised an eyebrow, a smile on his face that I could hardly bear to look at.

Of course, it was up to us to go out and hunt the other tributes who would hide from each other for the rest of the games. We were targets as much as them and our hunt would draw out the most ambitious. As we jogged through the sandpit, heading east and into the shade of the trees, I could hear the water sloshing in my backpack alongside a few other supplies. The machete hung limply in my hand, swinging as I trudged along behind the other two. Goosebumps riddled my body, I could feel the eyes of Panem watching us head off for the first hunt of the games, my mother watching with increasing concern as I left the cornucopia, Lys worrying that I was already splitting away from Martial. But, I could hardly refuse to play ally so early in the game.

The cannon was still ringing in my head. One more dead. That made sixteen more of us.

The arena had been quiet for so long. But, as we entered the forest, twigs snapped under our feet and Sly sped up to walk alongside Gemma. He whispered something to her and she threw her head back in a barking laugh that echoed through the trees.

The volume of her voice was jarring after being silent so long and I held onto the machete tighter. I practically run into them when they stop talking and stand still.

"What-"

"Shh!" Gemma presses a hand to my mouth and I reel away but she maintains her grip on my head. She looks up at the canopy and around us, listening intently. Sly also seems to be confused with her actions and is looking around for danger. Clawing her hand from my face, I step out of reach and observe the way her bushy ponytail swings when she turns. "Do you hear that?" She whispers to the air. Straining my ears, turning slowly in the stagnant heat of the forest, I not only realise we can no longer see the cornucopia, but also notice the unmistakably rushing of a waterfall.

We'd been walking for the most part of the morning, Sly whistling while Gemma called out for the other tributes as though they were searching for a runaway pet. I had climbed above the canopy at intervals to ensure we were walking in a straight line, revealing my face to the sun so regularly to already have a burn spreading along my nose. I hadn't seen even a hint of a river, only the mountain that I'd rather keep to myself in case I needed to take refuge from the most ruthless players in the inevitable event that we turn against each other. We had, however, ran out of water by this point and were contemplating turning back- even though tradition called for the hunt to last most of the day.

Our water bottles rattled around in our packs, empty, and reminding us of our mistakes, glaringly telling us that we needed to be more frugal.

But, the sound of rushing water, spread such an elated joy through us that Gemma's jacket had fallen loose from around her waist and fell to the ground as she sprinted towards the sound with a whoop of glee.