It is utter chaos. When the spine-tingling bell sounded, there was a whisper of a moment where nobody moved. But that was minutes ago. Now, all I see in front of me is red. The golden walls of the Cornucopia are stained with it; the sand is splattered with it; the water runs with it; and the battling tributes are spreading it. It is easily apparent who has allied with whom, as they collect in groups and work together to bring death to the unwise who engage them. The Careers—of course—have banded together, and already claim the best of the weapons available at the Cornucopia. The scariest of those weapons is easily the one that the District 2 girl claims: a pair of silver metal claws like a tiger’s... fitting for the girl, who, with her strawberry blonde hair and catlike green eyes, moves like I imagine a tiger would—long, easy movements, like she is stalking prey.
As for me, I’m clinging to the side of my platform, half-in and half-out of the water. Knowing the spirit of the Hunger Games, I’m almost positive that there are some sorts of muttations swimming in the water around us, but I hope that they’ll leave us alone while the bloodbath is happening. Many other tributes—Archie included—have had the same idea as me, but some haven’t been as lucky. Crossbow bolts protrude from a nearby tribute, but she’s somehow still alive. In fact, I have to wonder if the Gamemakers have a hand in this. Surely, all this bloodletting around me should be immediately deadly to so many tributes? But not one has died yet, not even the girl that I saw speared with a trident, or another girl who was slashed across the neck by the D2 tiger-girl. It makes sense, the Gamemakers extending the bloodbath; the Capitol citizens would want their precious deaths.
Just as this thought crosses my mind, a cannon blasts, startling me so much that I almost lose my white-knuckled grip on my platform. I see a bloodied body falling into the water, an arrow impaling their skull. Within seconds, another cannon blast, and I see the District 7 boy crumple at the feet of Jace, the dark-haired boy from District 12, his throat slashed. Normally, the cannons aren’t fired during the bloodbath, since it’s all so fast. But with the Gamemakers “adjusting” the timing of the deaths, I guess there’s room for the blasts.
...And apparently room for muttations. I clap a hand over my own mouth as I let out a scream, feeling something graze my leg. It feels like a fish, but much larger, and with sharp spines. I look down, and through the water I can see a thin cut where I had felt the mutt brush against me. Just to my right, a boy—District 5, I think—lets out a horrible scream like the one that would have come out of my mouth, and disappears. A cloud of blood in the water is all that’s left of him. *BOOM*. I start to tremble violently as I see the tributes who are clinging to the plates begin to shriek and slap at the water frantically as more mutts surface. If I stay here, I’m going to end up like that D5 boy. I take a deep breath and push myself completely underwater. I swim in the direction of the Cornucopia beach, but stay out far enough that I can hide in the thick reeds. I break the surface just enough to get a breath and a look: the beach is still filled with tributes. Not for long, though. Two more cannons blast and the purple haze surrounding the beach and the plates disappear. The tributes on the platforms who have survived now launch themselves forwards, scattering in all directions. I vaguely take notice of Archie sprinting towards the forest; some other tributes follow his lead.
Idiots, I think. Everyone will be going there.
Fear momentarily forgotten, I allow myself an eye roll, then set my sights on the Career alliance. Xander, the tall, blonde, muscular and exceptionally handsome District 2 boy—I give myself a mental shake: I shouldn’t be noticing things like that at the moment—was flipping his sword around in a complicated pattern, giving the others in his alliance a confident look. The Careers don’t seem to be too concerned with the fleeing tributes, but they’re absorbed in conversation, which is good for me. I pull myself onto the beach as quietly as possible, glad that I have a talent for stealth. A moment’s consideration and I know where I’m headed. Someplace that no one will follow, because it’s too dangerous; too inhospitable.
With a last glance at the Careers, I turn my gaze to the north... and to the ice island.
YOU ARE READING
The Warrior of Ice
FanficOne of twenty-four thrown into the death arena, District 10's female tribute has a simple plan: survive. The arena and her fellow tributes however, have a very different idea.
