Azalea Rose Willow loves three things above everything else:
summer, the only season that mattered in her mind.
singing, alongside the comforting embrace of her guitar.
but above all, the easy camaraderie with the boy who lives next door to her, and...
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The blindfold ripped away, the one placed to disorientate each tribute of their where abouts until the start of the games, plunging Azalea into a world of blinding sunlight and unfamiliar sights. All part of the game.
A gasp escaped her lips, quickly swallowed back as the weight of reality settled on her shoulders. The arena. This was it.
The Hunger Games.
The initial shock gave way to a strange sense of familiarity. Before her lay a vast expanse of water, not a pristine, inviting ocean like the one back home, but a murky lagoon, its edges choked with reeds and swamp grass. A colossal waterfall roared in the distance, cascading down a cliff face that dominated one side of the arena. Rocks and trees surrounding it. Not much sunlight. The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and stagnant water, a stark contrast to the salty breeze that usually filled her lungs. Terror still threatened to consume her.
This was the Hunger Games, a brutal spectacle where children hunted children. The metallic tang of blood was about to hang heavy in the air in a few seconds, a grim reminder of the carnage that was about to unfold.
In, & out.
The sixty-second countdown loomed, each tick a hammer blow against her already-shattered nerves. Her breath hitched, a sob trapped in her throat.
In, & out.
She forced herself to breathe, but the air seemed to have vanished from her lungs. Panic threatened to spiral, but then, a sound broke through the suffocating silence.
The sound of the water. She couldn't see it, but the sound of a waterfall could be heard from the distance. A gentle lap against the platform, a gurgle from the depths of the swamp – a familiar rhythm that soothed the frantic beat of her heart. It was the sound of home, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore at the beach, a calming melody that grounded her in this moment of chaos. Focusing on the water, Azalea closed her eyes, picturing herself diving into the cool embrace of the ocean back in District 4. The fear didn't vanish entirely, but it receded slightly, replaced by a steely resolve.
Movement flickered across the platform opposite her, on the other side of the cornucopia. Callum. He hadn't seen her yet, his back turned as he scanned the arena with a predatory glint in his eyes. Three tributes to her right, she spotted Dusk. His eyes glued to the cornucopia. The rest of the careers scattered around her, looking at the rest of the tributes as if they were prey.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of the waterfall's roar.
The air crackled with a sudden energy as the booming voice cut through the tense silence.
"10"
Her father's and Finnick's advice echoed in her mind, a desperate mantra against the rising tide of panic. Panic threatened to engulf Azalea, but she slammed the brakes on her fear.
