The Hunger Games

Chapter Twenty-Four

ROSE'S POV
The cliff seemed even farther though I'd come around a mile. The boundary must be close. The cliff is probably not there. Just a simulation around the border. The dumb bird is trying to kill me.
The waves of heat crashed onto my sweaty body, sweat dripping down my arms and face. The sky is a hazy orange, the breeze has gone away. My thirsty throat burns like fire. I sip some fresh water. It's warm, but it cures my dehydration enough to keep moving. I wipe my brow, tired of walking endlessly. This wasn't the walking games, after all. But it sure was the hunger games. My stomach rumbles. I've saved most of my food for the nights, using my days to traverse the landscape.
I stop near a creek, jumping into the cold rushing water. I balance on the slippery rocks under water and dive, leaving my backpack on shore. I resurface a few yards down. If someone is watching, they don't make themselves noticed. I decide to get out. My soggy clothes cling to my thinning frame. The heavy backpack weighs me down as I lug through the day.
Finally dry, I settle in a tall oak.
Beep. Beep. It echoes through the trees.
I look around, trying to place the sound.
Beep beep. It's louder. I look up. A parachute-equipped container. A sponsored gift! Yes.
The sunset framed it perfectly. Like ur was sent from heaven.
I grapple with the metal box, ripping off the white parachute and hearing the fabric tear. The container opens with a click, and I root around inside. A notecard, and the silver bracelet engraved with my fathers words. I'm in tears as I read the note.
You dropped something. Love ya, gal. Win for me. -Arateal
A teardrop slides down my cheek, plopping on the note, smearing the hair artist's name.