Maybe Foxface Is The Real Opponent Here~

11-Twelve down, eleven to go

Brambles and bushes scratch at my skin, brutally whipping me as I stumble blindly into the trees. All I can hear is the blood-curdling screams of the bloodbath and the branches that thrash around me, as well as my heavy breathing, every pant getting louder until I scramble down a little hill infested with tall, wiry brown trees.

Still running, I find myself stumble into a leafy shrubbery towering over me, and fight my way out. Suddenly, I bump into something, knocking me backwards onto the ground. I look for my attacker, and find the girl from 12, looking utterly startled, her sideways plait full of dirty leaves, as is her face. We meet eyes for a few seconds, and, both looking as alarmed as the other, get up and run in the opposite direction to each other, staggering off. 

After what feels like hours, I find somewhere as far away from the careers as possible. It's right on a hill, so I'll be able to hear if people come near. I don't have any supplies, and I mentally slap myself. I'm now far away from life with no food, water, weapons or tools and no-one to help me. No that i'd want help. I start to contradict myself, and after noticing i've been talking aloud to just me, I sigh, attempting to climb a huge oak tree, which is exploding with leaves and branches to hide me in. It's going to be a long Games. 

**

At what I presume is really early; due to the light sky, the crackle of footsteps awaken me, and I bolt upright, still concealed in the leaves of my tree to see who it is. It's a girl, but I don't recognise her. She's short, maybe about twelve or thirteen, with dark skin and slightly frizzy hair, but from what I can see, she's very pretty. In her hands is a slingshot, and a red rucksack is on her back. She looked rather curious, her eyes darting round the trees, as if looking for a place to stay, which was fine by me as long as it wasn't my tree.

Then, the girl looked peculiarly to her left, and ran off with haste in the opposite direction. I peer through the leaves but found my vision obscured by another tree nearby. Tutting, I was just about to crawl down my tree, when, one foot down, I hear the far-too familiar whack of a tree branch almost directly below me. 

'Ouch!' The boy hisses. He's tanned, average height, but walks with a limb, probably caused by the careers. He has a yellow rucksack too, but it looks very wet. There's a lake! I think, and as soon as he's gone, limping back the way he came, I climb carefully down the tree, landing swiftly; like a gymnast.

Being careful to only walk in the areas hidden by trees and shrubs, I crouch down, waddling, looking for any sign of life. 

I find the girl from 8 sat shivering by a lump of sticks on the ground. Her jacket is severely ripped. It makes me feel sorry for her, and I look pitifully at my own jacket, thinking about accidentally leaving it, before remembering it was a competition. Rubbing the sticks together, she makes a small spark which soon turns into a flame, igniting a small fire. I silently sigh at her mistake, and when I notice the smoke rippling high in the air, I look away in realisation. She's going to die tonight. 

My prediction proves correct, because minutes later, the career pack arrive. I gasp when I see Cato, who looks both sad and brutal at the same time. He turns to the bush where the gasp came from, and I swear he's seen me. But if he has, he's hiding it well, as he returns to the girl from 8, who is now pinned down by Clove, shivering with fright rather than cold now, crying and pleading. She then screams, shrill and one that will haunt me forever.

Cato's killed her. I murmur silently.

The skinny boy, Marvel shouts something along the line of 'Twelve down and eleven to go!' I must have been asleep when the cannons went off. The others applaud and clap.

My whole body shudders, hoping they won't see the glint of red hair in the shrubbery. They're checking around her for supplies, but they sigh and tut when they can't find a rucksack or anything else. I hear them leave, and I fight the urge to run to Cato, to slap him, then hug him. I'm a lump of girly feelings right now.

But as Cato leaves, his foot gets caught on something and he absent-mindedly pulls it out, trying to return to his group who are slightly ahead now. 

It's a bag.

I start to wait until they grow silent, and scrabble out to the rucksack, and not bothering to look inside, run away from the careers' direction, towards where I hope is the lake.

**

I make an imaginary list of the things in the bag.

-A pot of gunky-looking medicine.

-One of a pair of woolen gloves.

-A dented metal pan.

-A roll of bandage.

-An empty water container.

-Some wire.

I look rather pleased with myself, and, sitting on the edge of the lake, obscured by a large boulder, begin dipping the water container into the lake, right until it's full, then placing it next to me. I'm not that thirsty yet. I hear birds twittering in the trees above me, and find myself dreaming of fried eggs. 

I look dubiously at the pan, which looks like it's been used to dent something, and put it down next to the water container.

I get up, tired and less enthusiastic about getting my next meal. Looking up, I see a birds nest sat happily in the tree next to me. Using the bandage on my hands, I use them to hoist myself slowly up the tree, until i'm facing the nest. There are two eggs lying in it. I feel like a horrible person, but I snatch them quickly and half-climbing, half-jumping, I get down and put them in my bag to use shortly. Grabbing my stuff, I quickly wash my face in the water, and run off to find somewhere to use them. I wish Cato were here to help me.

***