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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Azalea and Dusk wandered through the dense undergrowth, their bodies heavy with exhaustion. The Hunger Games were a relentless pursuit, a never-ending cycle of death and survival. They had been running for what felt like hours, their bodies aching from the constant strain.
The Canons had sounded their signal, marking the end of the second day. Yet, they were still searching for a suitable place to rest, a safe haven amidst the chaos of the arena. The thought of spending another night in the open, exposed to the elements and the constant threat of danger, filled them with dread.
In only the last 24 hours, They had narrowly escaped a landslide, been ambushed by Callum and his allies, and almost drowned in a flooded cave.
The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the forest. They needed to find a place to rest, a safe haven where they could recuperate and plan their next move. They had strayed from the rest of the Careers, and they knew they were vulnerable.
They were on high alert, their senses heightened. Every rustle in the undergrowth, every snap of a twig, sent a shiver down their spines. They felt watched, hunted, their lives hanging by a thread.
They needed to find a place to spend the night, a safe haven where they could rest and recuperate. But they were wary of caves and rocks, their recent experiences leaving them wary of such natural formations.
Dusk, in particular, had a newfound respect for water, having nearly drowned in the flooded cave.
They knew they couldn't light a fire. It would draw attention, revealing their location to any nearby tributes. And with enemies like Callum and the other Careers, that was the last thing they needed.
Azalea shivered, her clothes still damp from their ordeal. The cold was seeping into her bones, making her tremble. She needed warmth, but she couldn't risk a fire.
"You know, purple lips look good on you." Dusk smirked, shivering.
Azalea rolled her eyes, not wanting to give in to his comments in this situation, as she ran her arms around her body to create some sort of warmth. "I think the hypothermia is starting to mess with your brain, Two."
"Probably," He agreed, "but my vision's still pretty great."
Suddenly, Azalea froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She thought she had heard a voice, a faint whisper carried by the wind. Dusk noticed her reaction and froze as well. They exchanged a worried glance, their eyes wide with fear. Could it be another tribute? Were they being hunted?
As they searched for a suitable hiding spot, Azalea reached for her trident, intending to use it to help her climb a nearby tree, they could hide at the top until they felt they were out of danger. But as her hand made contact with her back, were her trident always was, she realized something was wrong. Her trident wasn't there.
Oh shit.
Panic surged through her. The trident was her weapon, her means of defense. Without it, she was vulnerable. And she had lost it.
