The Hunger Games (Peeta's Point of View)

Chapter Twenty Five

Not any old creatures, either. More muttations. They're in no way natural. Huge, wolf-like, and with claws like blades. But they are just as fast on their hind legs as they are on all fours. In fact, they eerily resemble humans just as much as wolves. The one at the front, perhaps the leader of the pack, uses its wrist to summon the rest of them, its razor-sharp claws glinting menacingly. It bears its fangs in a snarl, staring straight at us. They know we're the targets.

      I have to get away! I run, as fast as my leg will let me- which isn't very far. Helplessly I watch as Katniss takes flight, racing towards the Cornucopia, that Cato is already beginning to scale. There's no way in hell I can hope to catch up. I risk a look behind me, and see the mutts closing in. The leader's mouth distorts into what can only be a smile as it snaps at my heels. I go to cry for Katniss, but something stops me. I can't distract her from reaching safety. If I die, all I can hope for is that my demise will buy her time. She's reached the base of the Cornucopia by now. Maybe she can climb it then push Cato down among the mutts or something. I steel myself, and send a silent prayer to the heavens.

      Behind me I hear one of the mutts yelp in agony. It's down. Katniss shot it. "Go, Katniss!" My voice breaks as I motion for her to climb the Cornucopia. "Go!"

      She does. Then she's at the top, and Cato's there too, but he's weak and heaving over the side. Finish him off! I will her. And she's about to. Halfway up the horn, she loads another arrow, and aims. Suddenly one of the mutts lunges for me. Its paw swipes past my face and I narrowly avoid being either knocked unconscious or shredded to death. I don't dare try and slash it with my knife. I cry out in fear. This is it. 

      "Climb!" Katniss orders.

      I try. I've reached the base, and grab on to one of the ridges that acts as a foothold. But the metal's blistering hot in the scorching sun, and my leg is too weak, and my knife is getting in the way, but I can't drop it because it's my only means of protection. Katniss shoots another arrow into the pack and its dying cries resonate in my ear. I keep going.

      Katniss takes hold of my arm when I reach her feet and she pulls me up. Reaching the top is like surfacing when you've been underwater for too long: an immense relief outweighs the panic, and my breaths are heavy and laboured. How on earth did I make that climb? The gold surface is too hot so I squat in an attempt to catch my breath, avoiding touching it with my bare skin. The mutts don't need another incentive- cooking flesh- to get up here.

      Then Katniss turns her attention to the other danger, Cato, but realises he's too weak to pose a greater threat than the mutts right now.

      Cato splutters, "Can they climb it?" It's been a while since I last heard his voice. It's lost all its portentousness and he doesn't spit as much venom as he used to. He's been subject to too much; we all have. Part of me pities him. No one should suffer like this, not even a bloodthirsty kid like Cato.

      "What?" Katniss shouts.

      "He said, 'Can they climb it?'" I answer. 

      We look back to the mutts below us. They're certainly trying, so if they can't climb it now, it won't be long before they do. One takes a good few steps back and leaps up, just below us, and clings on to the Cornucopia. Then it falls, with the hideous screeching of its claws on metal. But that won't prevent it from trying again. We have to destroy them before they manage it. But there are so many of them... Some with light coats, others dark. So many different coats that seem random, but the Gamemakers are meticulous in their planning. There's a reason for it. We just have to work it out.

      Cato's still there, on the edge of the Cornucopia, broken. Eyes full of fear regard the mutts, and I wonder what can be racing through his mind. Is he trying to figure out a way to kill them, or is he really terrified by them? If anything, I'm just thankful he hasn't turned his attention to us, not yet. But there's still time.