The Hunger Games (Peeta's Point of View)

Chapter Eleven

A minute is all we have. Sixty seconds before we're expected to launch ourselves at each other and descend into chaos. Sixty seconds. Sixty seconds before certain death.

            The Cornucopia lies in front of us twenty four tributes, a golden horn of hope- our only hope. It's filled with food, medicine, weapons, clothes- and who knows what else? Just a few metres from me is a tiny first aid pouch, open, filled with plasters and a muslin cloth I guess you could use as a bandage. Useful to prevent infection and stem bleeding, however, further away from the tributes is a large backpack with a hospital mark on it, which I'm sure contains some sort of medicine only available in the Capitol. An outstretched belt with about ten small throwing knives lies near the mouth of the Cornucopia, which will be very useful to the girl from 2. I know she'll get the knives. She's a Career; she's bound to. Fifty seconds.

            The ground is flat and hard.To my right, I see a lake. Clear and calm, but soon will run with blood. I wonder if it's the only water source. If I'm right, I'm sure will be used to draw the tributes together for a bloodbath. To my left pine trees stretch, forming a dense forest. There should be animals in there. Katniss will be able to survive in there, I think. Good. Unless... Unless she gets picked off here. The thought disturbs me and I wish I hadn't thought of it at all. So I think about my orders from Haymitch. "Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water." Okay. The only water source I can see is the lake in front of me, but I know all the other tributes will have the same idea. Scrap that thought.  Forty seconds.

            I remember my plan. Not Haymitch's; mine. Of course I'll escape and find a water source- after I've got a weapon and after I've found Katniss. Because to protect her, I'll need to find her. And without a weapon what use will I be? Thirty seconds.

            I look back at the Cornucopia's bounty in front of me. What can I take? To be honest I want to take everything.  There are various backpacks about twenty metres away from me that could contain anything, but it must be good stuff because twenty metres is about halfway between here and the mouth. I'm not exactly confident with any weapon but I'll need something. I scan the Cornucopia. A knife is embedded in a blanket roll twenty metres or so from the Cornucopia. It's long and silver and the edge is beautifully serrated. It's calling to me. Mine. If I had to pick a weapon I'm most familiar with, it's a knife. That knife. Yes, I know it will be a risk. And I'll be disobeying Haymitch totally. But I need to protect myself. And Katniss. Especially Katniss. I can justify it, right? And I'm only from 12; the Careers will be after the others. But Katniss did get an eleven... Katniss. Twenty seconds.

            Now I've decided I'll grab that blade, I'm ready to run. Ten seconds.

            I try to locate Katniss out of the ring of tributes. The girl from 5, the boy from 4... There! Five places from me exactly. I see her staring intently at something in the pile. Near the mouth. I look. There's a silver bow and a sheath of arrows. If she gets that she'll be practically invincible. Good. But it's so far! And with her eleven she'll probably be a target! That makes me  more determined to grab a weapon- to protect her- but I can't let her rush into danger like that. If one of the Careers gets a spear, she'll be killed in a second, and all our preperations would be for nothing. And without Katniss, what would I do? Then she looks at me; through the sunlight I notice her eyes trained on mine. I shake my head to show my disapproval. Her eyes widen. She knows. And then the gong sounds. I run.

            I can 't think about anyone or anything else right now. I zigzag through the spoils, every so often grabbing something as I run. A pouch of  berries. Bread. Ha! The irony. I tuck the berries in my sleeve and hold the bread in my left hand. I still run. One of the younger tributes- I think fron 9- runs up to hit me with a rock but I keep going, keep going, and he trips over my feet. I dare to look behind and see Marvel standing over him with a knife, stabbing him over and over. I'm in Career territory now. And I need to get out.