The Last Hunger Games

Chapter 12 - Blood Red

After a minute or so the stinging dies down and I begin to re-organise myself and my supplies. At the bottom of the backpack, I place the box of broken matches, being careful not to shake them. I would leave them on the muddy ground, as they no longer of any use to me, but I don't want to leave any sort of tracks that another tribute could follow. On top of them I place my burnt sleeping bag, or maybe I should be calling it a sleeping tube now, as the bottom has been singed off. In goes the water flask that's still dry as a bone, and last but not least, the empty parachute container. It might not seem important, but I may be able to use to it for holding water.

When I find some, that is.

Already I can see and feel my wound beginning to heal. The constant flow of blood has slowed right down, and the pain has eased considerably. It seems to have shrunk a bit too, although I'm not too sure if that's a hallucination. Probably. I'm hoping that it will have fully healed in a few hours time, or at least before dawn breaks, as I'd much rather start my search in moonlight than sunlight. In fact, perhaps it has already healed enough for me to get going now. My backpack on and belt of knives around my waist, I stand up and start to walk. My leg doesn't give way this time. It seems to have gone numb, but at least it will still cooperate with my brain. As I begin to tramp through the dense undergrowth, I can feel my feet squelching and sinking further into the ground every time I take a step. I look down and see that I am trekking through a thick bog. 

And then I see it: A dark cloud of red advancing towards me from behind. It's a bit like that fog in the Quarter Quell that left you covered in blisters, but this one is much more deadly looking and a deep red; the colour of blood. I don't dare wonder what it does. Without caring about noise or direction, I wade as fast as my legs will let me through the murky mud, taking huge steps as the fog builds up speed. Once I'm back on solid ground, I look around me for a path to take, only to find myself trapped, with the fog advancing from all sides. 

There are huge oak trees a few metres to my left, but I don't know what to do or where to go, what with the deadly fog coming ever closer. It's only a metre away from my feet now, and without hesitating I lurch forward for the thick trunk of one of the other trees, but it's just out of reach. I scream out in pain as the fog takes hold of my feet, causing spasms to take over them. Still I run towards the tree, the tree that could be my last chance at life. Johana would be spitting mad if I died of my own foolishness. For all her motivational insults were annoying, that's what kept me going throughout extra training, not wanting to disappoint her; and proving that I do have a brain. With that in mind, I pull myself up the tree trunk, no not able to make my feet cooperate. For once I'm actually glad of all of that extra training Johanna made me do. My arms feel as if they are going to fall off as I haul my limp body up the tree. The first branch isn't far now,  I can see it not far above me. 

I'm using my knees to grip onto the trunk, dragging my feet behind them, and my grazed hands inch my body upwards. The fog hasn't just stayed on the ground, oh no, it's risen about three metres high, and is hot on my heels as I awkwardly scale this tree. My hands just manage to get a firm grip on the thick branch and I almost fall off when I reach up and sit on it.

The fog has stopped rising. I'm okay. Well apart from my feet I'm okay.

Suddenly a cannon fires in the distance, and again, I almost fall off. I bet it was the fog that killed them. My suspicions are confirmed when I see the metal claw of the hovercraft drop down not far from my tree. It picks up a tall body, and it is still holding a spear. All of a sudden I realise who it is: Flavius Ashgrove. It has to have been the fog that killed him, as I know for a fact that no other tribute dared to confront him. The claw disappears through the canopy of trees and the sounds of the forest resume once again. 

I would start panicking about my injuries, but I have a thought: Now would be a great time and place to look around for water, as I can see the whole forest from up here. I am also in plain view to any passers-by, and am a sitting duck if they've got a long distance weapon, but I'll just have to hope that nobody spots me; or if they do, that they have bad aim. Hopefully. Probably. 

I scan the bleak landscape below me, searching for a source. After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes of looking, I spot it. A small stream of water, glinting in the cool of the moonlight, not too far from the bog I found myself stuck in earlier. Next I try and locate any tributes that might be lurking in the undergrowth nearby. I can't see any flashes of the red jackets we were given peeping through any leaves, and I highly doubt any Capitol child has camouflage skills as good as Peeta Mellark's, so I think I'm safe, for now, to venture out to the water source.

A/N: Was that one too short? Sorry if it was. As you've probably figured out, this arena is packed full of pods, as I thought that would make it more exciting. Hope you're enjoying the story so far. Oh and just as a warning, there is gonna be some gore in the next chapter. Byeee!