Midnight Azalea-A Story of the 34th Hunger Games

Chapter 9-Flight

"Chop chop we have a new day hot on our heels!"

Cashatras voice wakes me up, but I decide to linger a few minutes and catch some rest before I have to go to the training center. I nestle up in my comfy bed, stretching my arms and feeling around for any colder areas of the canvas. I feel something and sink my head into the pillow.

"I said lets go we have a very quick schedule today!"

Still there is silence, hoping she will leave me alone and let me have five minutes to myself, but somehow she barges in and catches me drifting off.

"I said we have a big day! Now go down and eat some eggs, sausage, and pork!"

The eggs tempt me. I bet this meal was provided by District 10. "I'm not hungry," I say in my tired voice.

"In four days you will be thrust into an arena where food will be scarce! You're lucky you had the chance to be reaped into a feast! And you take it so Ungratefully!"

Strangely enough, that is the most sympathetic thing Cashatra has said to me. Yet I still dont budge and grumble.

"I pity myself." I snuggle back into my pillow, hoping she'll stop talking. "I get it I have breakfast and training..."

"No no no no no! Eat then train then lunch then train then dinner then sleep!"

"So...the same thing..."

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

I hope not. I just hope when I die in that Arena the last thing I heard wasn't your voice. Yet when I die you'll take pleasure in my loss.

I bet it'll be Maximus that kills me first.

"Eh, I bet it wouldn't hurt to eat." I rise a few inches out of the fur blanket I was laying on, and I glide to the bathroom to coordinate my hair. I fix it up so I at least look suitable in that training center, and I put on my robe.

When I make it to the breakfast table, I don't expect much...but I guess Cashatra surprised me for a change!

The breakfast is two giant slices of yellow toast fresh out of the oven, with two squares of butter on each. Aside for toppings there is cinnamon, maple syrup, honey, blueberry, and raspberry. I take my chair and my opportunity to have the majority, as neither Natiel nor Quorel are present.

I start with the maple syrup. It is in a warm jar, with a beautiful color to it. The color of warm chocolate, with a touch of caramel. "I've seen this at a bakery in my hometown," I tell her. It was very expensive. "Never could get even an ounce."

"Oh we have much of this here! Just add it to your Sweetbread and dig in!" Cashatra spreads her hands like this is a giant buffet, which all dinners here are, but breakfast is the smallest meal. "Delicious?"

I take a small piece, about the size of my thumb, ripping it from the bread with my fingers (which Cashatra reacts with disgust at) and pop it in my mouth.

I admit, the second the Sweetbread passed my lips I couldn't have just one. I was craving more, but soon my breakfast turned from bread to crumbs.

I lick my fingers, hoping to catch any escaping flavor still clinging to them. Cashatra sighs heavily. "Manners, Madame," she snaps.

"Like what?" I ask her.

"Fresh napkin placed onto your legs, proper posture, use of utensils such as forks, knives, and spoons. While eating, prop your forearms onto the rim of the table like so--then proceed to never using your fingers no matter what!"

I sure as heck won't have an option to dine like that in the Arena. I could see myself eating with that kind of etiquette in the Arena, gently taking a piece of fish whilst cutting another with my knife. I laugh. "And in the Arena?" Seriously ill be dead before I actually use a fork. How do I even hold one?

"You're a guilty mess!" She screams this. "You have not an idea do you?"

"Yes I was just kidding," I sigh. I wonder if even that will get her to go away. I pick up the fork, it wobbling in my fingers, and wrap my hand around the fork as if it was a knife, and I stab the Sweetbread. I pick up the knife and start cutting. I sever a fine piece from its source, and pop it into my mouth. "Sweet," I tell her, indulging in the savory flavor.

"You know...Sweetbread is genetically modified bread, right?"

I spit it out. "I--its not real?" I look down at the chewed Sweetbread soggy with my saliva. I revolt at how inhuman it is. "I've lost my appetite."

"It's just the flavor," Cashatra yells but I don't care. I go down the hall and lock the door and bundle up in the mountain of blankets that come with the bed, waiting for her to come and take me for training, but she comes to early.

"Knock knock," says the snobby lady from the Capitol at the door two minutes later. "I know you're in there. I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? I'm just not hungry," I say. My voice indicates my nervous mood, because my tone is shaky, not relaxed as usual. Suddenly I'm pacing the room as Cashatra begins to talk, of course after I swing open the door.

"The Careers want you dead?" She murmurs. "Why?"

"I don't know," I say, my heart beating against my ribs. I'm not sure whether or not my Chest will burst and I'll die or I'll die of fear. Maximus had stared at me as if I was a meal, and I don't favor that. What if I died? What if I didn't? What if we were the final two, him facing me down at the Cornucopia. No, what if he ties me up and beats me to death. Maybe I'm overthinking this, but what Natiel said last night terrorized me. "Maybe I'll just die from natural causes, such as thirst or something! But if he kills me..." I notice I begin to mutter and stop.

Cashatra moves around to get in a different position, her blue leather dress crinkling and squeaking under her. "You'll make it." She plants a gentle kiss on my forehead, so light I barely feel it. "Like a Mockingjay I want you to soar...and if you fall you get right back up!" She trots back to the door, her high heels making clopping sounds under her. Before she fully exits she turns and takes a good look at me. "Get ready for the training..." Finally she departs.

I take a seat and think about everything. The possible ways I could die, how many hours until the bloodbath, and what Cashatra said. You'll make it. And she compared me to a Mockingjay poised for flight...

If she really believes in me, maybe she was trying to tell me something I didn't catch. Maybe flight is the key word here. Act like a bird. When I go near the little jays in my hometown they flutter away the second I enter their proximity bubble. The prop themselves in the nearest tree...

If I'm a bird, my best option is to stay away from the other tributes.