THE HUNGER GAMES: the taste of Whiskey and Snow // CORIOLANUS SNOW

Eight

Whiskey didn't sleep. Her bones were aching for rest, having slept no more than five hours over five days but her mind refused to stay quiet. Thoughts of plans to come, people she missed, and people she'd just met filled her subconscious to the point of no return, turning over conversations and situations in her mind.

She guessed based on the stars it was around two o-clock in the morning. The breeze was gentle and calm, rocking her branches she lay. Too anyone else, she would've looked at peace. But that was nothing further from the truth. In her mind she was waging a battle of emotions.

Far away from the security of her hometown, she questioned where her morality was. She'd never attacked a man so violently before, even though it was out of defence. To stop it from happening again, she'd have to manipulate her mentor to ask him to get a knife for those girls so they'd leave her alone - which was cheating. She didn't want to make Coriolanus do that for her, but she didn't want those girls to try to kill her.

It was easier being nice to everyone in district 12, she decided.

Suddenly, a branch snapped. A wall adrenaline hit her so quickly that she froze, senses heightened. Whiskey was on her feet in the tree, scanning at were the noise came from. 

Then she saw it, a squirrel. It was so quiet, she barely heard it over the sound of her own stomach grumbling. It looked at her with a curious expression, holding a pinecone in its mouth.

"Hello, there," she whispered, smiling at it. It moved its head, taking a step closer towards her on the branch.

Whiskey watched it quietly, trying to move as little as possible when suddenly her hand felt a horrible stinging sensation and she looked down to see a massive spider biting her. She cried out in pain, flicking it off the branch. The squirrel scurried away from the noise.

As she moved her hand, she realised there was a huge nest right where she'd been sleeping. Her body jittered with terror as she jumped from the tree, landing heavily on the ground. Imagines of spiders in her hair and clothes haunted her in the darkness and she took the opportunity to strip her dress off. She wildly shook her hair and ran around until she was satisfied she was spider free.

Grateful for the darkness, she slipped on her dress again and curled up against a rock, trying at least to rest her body if not her brain.

She cursed and felt her hand go numb. Already knowing it was poisonous, she lay back, not being able to do anything without medicine. Her skin crawled for the rest of the night, feeling like spiders were infecting everywhere.

By morning, Whiskey felt destroyed. Her sleepless state was weighing on her soul, along with everything else. Her arm throbbed with a new level of pain and her fingernails were turning blue.

Because of the meeting with the mentors today, all the tributes were told to line up as the guards came in to chain their hands. Whiskey trailed at the back of the line next to Ratley, trying to brush off the feelings of her bones being to large for her skin and her skin being to tight for her bones.

"Where did you go last night?" Ratley asked with a yawn.

"I wouldn't sleep in the tree anymore. There's massive nests of spiders in there. I got bitten last night." Whiskey admitted, showing her hand to him.

His face contorted, with shock "That looks really bad. It's really colourful."

"No talking," the guard warned, flashing his gun in their face.

Whiskey frowned and stared at the ground, hoping her arm was going to miraculously solve itself. She watched a beetle moving through the dirt, pretending not to notice Ratley staring at her.

Finally, a guard came and chained her hands. As she lifted up her wrists, she noticed a stream of blood rolling back up her sleeve. It was bluer than normal, maybe even fresh venom. Surely in a few hours, the blood poisoning would reach her brain and she'd be gone for good. The cold metal from the chains sent a rush through her skin. It felt refreshing against her burning hot spider bite.

In a line, each tribute was marched out of the zoo for the first time their entire stay. Ratley seemed alert, excited to see at least a small part of the capital city before he died.

As the guards marched them through the city, crowds appeared and stared at them like they were animals. People yelled and threw things, trying to get their attention, but they walked on, ignoring them. From her perspective, the people of the capital acted more like animals than she did.

To distract herself from the walking, Whiskey stared at environment. Her eyes landed on a statue fountain in the middle of a roundabout down the road. The capital city was so hideously ugly to her.

She missed her home.