Too Clever

Chapter 13

The first rays of sunlight peek through the branches above me, illuminating the leaves and signaling the start of a new day. In my opinion, dawn is the most peaceful part of the day. The birds start chirping, the air is cool and crisp.
     If I were at home right now, I would be getting up to water the vegetable garden in the backyard. Nora would be complaining about getting up so early, and my mother would tell her to simply go back to bed in a few minutes. My father would be waving goodbye, heading to the power plants for work.
I wonder if things stayed the same when I left, if my family is burying their sadness in everyday things, or if they just stopped altogether. I wouldn't guess the latter; my parents know they still have Nora to look after with me gone.
I just miss them.
I don't know what I'm going to do for breakfast. I don't have the supplies I would need to make a snare. I guess I'll just have to look around for something.
A bird in a nearby tree whistles a short, high pitched series of notes. A mockingjay. I learned at school that mockingjays are a hybrid between mockingbirds and jabberjays. During the Dark Days, the Capitol invented the jabberjay, a bird that could memorize and repeat human speech, to spy on the rebels. When the rebels figured this out, they started to send the birds back to Capitol with endless lies, so the Capitol simply left the jabberjays to die off in the wild. But instead, they mated with mockingbirds and created the mockingjay, a species that was never meant to exist.
The bird call gives me an idea. I climb the nearest tree, a tall willow, and look for birds nests. As I scale the tree, I make sure to stay close to the trunk where the branches are thickest. I only go up to about thirty feet, as I am mostly inexperienced with climbing trees and I know I could fall to my death trying to get up too high.
In the fourth tree I climb, I find a small birds nest with little blue robin eggs in it. I take the three eggs, carefully put them in my pocket, and make my way back to the ground.
But just as I am about to plant my foot on the first branch, I hear footsteps. I stay put, not moving an inch. Through the branches, I can just make out the boy from District 10, the one with the crippled leg; I can't remember his name. On his back is a small red backpack. This gives me an idea.
     About a minute after he passes my tree, I turn my body ever so slightly and peek out of a gap in the branches, making sure he's still continuing on away from the tree. Then I slowly, quietly climb down out of the tree.
I peer through the plants in front of me and spot the boy about forty meters ahead. Staying behind the the greenery where I'm out of his sight, I continue to follow him for the next few hours, keeping at least a thirty-meter gap between us at all times.
     I start feeling thirsty again about three hours later. I have to find water soon, or I won't be able to continue following the boy, which could be a source of food and maybe even lead to another place where there's water.
     Finally, he stops walking and takes a seat on a rock. He takes off his bag, rummages through it, and pulls out a small pack of crackers and an already open bag of dried fruit. He eats a few crackers and starts to walk in the opposite direction of which I followed him. I see him go over to a small plant and start digging up the roots.
     Now is my chance to sneak in and take some of his dry fruit before he comes back, so I quietly approach the bag and take a small handful of the fruit, but not enough for him to notice and lead to suspicion. Then I sit down behind a clump of greenery and wait for the boy to finish digging up the roots, eating the three little robin eggs I found this morning.
I can't believe that I've never seen a tribute in the past use this strategy. It's as good as any, as long as you don't get caught in the action. Which, of course, I won't.
But I left my little pool, and I need to find water soon. Very soon, because I can already feel the effects of dehydration creeping up on me. Maybe the boy from District 10 knows where to find water, although it isn't likely; why would he have went so far away from water if he knew where it was? But until I know for sure, I'm not leaving.
I creep back to my little spot in the foliage good few yards down from the boy's pack and wait for him to come back.
When he returns a couple minutes later, he has a handful of roots wrapped in a cloth that I'm guessing he found in his backpack. He puts them in his backpack and eats a few more crackers, then reaches into the bag again and takes out a water skin. He turns it over in his hands and scowls, as not one drop of water spilled out.
That's when I decide to leave the boy from District 10. It's clear that he doesn't know where to find water, so it's not worth sticking around and risking getting caught. And even though his crackers and dried fruit are a source of food, I already know how to dig up roots and find food in the forest. I don't need him to show me that.
     So I wait until he is well out of range and start to make my way back the way we came. It's the only thing I can think of that will guarantee water—wait! Maybe it's not the only way. If I went back in the direction of the Cornucopia to the lake, it will be quicker than traveling almost a full day back to my little pool; by then, it won't even be worth it because I'll be too dehydrated to walk that far.
     I know that the Cornucopia is close by because when the Games first began, I went in the exact opposite direction for a whole day. Then I followed the boy from 10 to the left in a diagonal back towards where the Games started. And, on top of that, the boy must have been making his way to the Cornucopia to get water, as he had nothing in his water skin and couldn't find any in the way as we walked.
     So, if my calculations are correct, I have to turn a sharp left to head directly back towards the Cornucopia. And sure enough, after only about a half hour, I see the clearing where the Cornucopia is positioned, with the lake right nearby.
But there's a problem. The Careers are sitting right in between the lake and the Cornucopia. Even though I am overly fatigued and need a drink of water desperately, I know I'll have to wait for the Careers to leave before I can get one. But the good news is that it's almost dark, and that's when the Careers like to go hunting. At least that's how it's been on the majority of Hunger Games I've seen.
So I wait, and as I sit perched behind the shrubs and trees, I begin to formulate a plan. Maybe if I start a fire farther away from here, they'll see the smoke and head over to it, thinking that there is a tribute around. And in that time, I'll get back here and grab a water bottle from the Cornucopia and fill it up with water from the lake before they return.
But almost immediately, I rule it out; I'm in no shape to carry this out. I would not have enough energy to make it back from the fire fast enough, and that wouldn't have pretty results. Heck, I don't even think I have enough energy to get to the place where I would start the fire. So I wait, and sure enough, just as twilight is beginning to settle in, I see the Careers grab their weapons and torches and disappear into the tree line. I stand still for a few minutes, giving the Careers a little while to head in the opposite direction, and then I dart out of the the trees and sprint as fast as my fatigued body will allow towards the Cornucopia.
     I scavenge around for a water skin and find one about midway between the tributes' platforms and the Cornucopia. When I pick it up, I find that it is already full of ice cold water, so I won't have to make the trip to the lake. I also find a decent sized sack of oranges, a pack of beef strips, and a blanket. I'm about to go pick up a lot of other things, but my instincts tell me otherwise; when the Careers return, they'll notice that another tribute has been here, and they might come hunting me down. So I clear out and resume my position back on the edge of the tree line.
     Suddenly, the anthem plays and the Capitol seal appears in the sky. No faces are shown. No one has met their death today.
I gather my stuff and go farther into the trees to conceal me from the Careers and chug down half of my water skin, saving the rest for the morning. I'll get more later tomorrow at the lake. I eat three beef strips, wrap myself tightly in my blanket, and lay down on the leaves and pine needles of the forest floor. It's much more comfortable with the blanket, although it's not like having a bed—even the old one I slept in at home. But at least I'll get more sleep than I did last night; I won't be freezing and shivering and trying to keep warm the whole time.
Exhausted, I go out like a light, not even thinking about the Games and what tomorrow will bring.