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The fan fiction has started (again)!
Right, so, I do hope you all know what The Hunger Games are (here's the wiki). It's where two children - one boy, one girl - are picked at random, or reaped, to participate in a competition where they go into a vast, gamemaker-controlled arena and literally fight to the death.
So, I had an idea one day! What if we took some of the Glee Project contestants and, in a fanfic, placed them into the arena?
So, let the games continue....
Fan Favorite Poll
P.S. Soz about the poll, guys - everytime someone dies, I have to take their name out the poll, and the votes automatically disappear, so you may have to vote every time you look at this blog xD
The Health Bar
The Health Bar is just like the ones you see in video games, where if any incidents occur that result in a tribute either injured or ill, the percentage on their health bar will fall. If the cause of the fall is treated with medicines or band-aids etc., the percentage will rise. If a tribute has 100% - 91%, they are considered 'perfectly healthy'. If the tribute has 50% - 90%, they are considered 'healthy', and their odds may change. 49% or lower, they are considered 'well', and 10% or below, they are considered 'dangerously unhealthy'.
So, the arena is a series of islands.The Cornucopia (left) is on the main island. The chests and backpacks are in the middle, and the tributes will be launched into the boxes that you see. When the gong sounds, they will run into the Cornucopia or jump off and swim to a surrounding island.
So, Island One is also known as the Clifftops. It is small, yet there is a huge rock which resembles a cliff on the island, and the top of the cliff is covered in a thick forest.
See image for details.
Island Two is actually a group of islands, but it is considered one altogether. The biggest island is gargantuan, and it is actually a tunnel-like rock - you can go over and under it. The other islands slowly decrease in size, and you can climb them as if they were stairs to get to the main rock.
See image for details.
Island Three is a rather confusing island. Often refered to as the Spider Island, I'm gonna let you see the image to get a real look at it.
Island Four is a group of three extremely simple islands. Nothing special.
See image for details.
Island Five is also an extremely simple island. Very close to Island Three.
See image for details.
These are the contenders and their districts. All strengths/weaknesses/weapons are made up, and ages are changed :)
Maxfield is a talented sword user, always stabbing his victim in the heart, head or stomach.
He is also very strong and can break a neck with his bare hands.
He is a brill swimmer, he can hunt very well and is very good at ambushes.
|Maxfield is not a very fast runner - at all - and cannot climb trees.||Sunriseondarkenedseas|
Bow and arrows
Shanna is a highly-skilled archer, almost always hitting the bullseye.
She can also hit a bullseye with a throwing spear with extreme ease.
She can climb trees very well and hunt well.
|Shanna is not educated on poisonous plants, which may cause her downfall, and she can't swim very well.||Tfesta|
Blake is highly skilled with throwing axes, and always hits the bullseye.
Blake is also skilled with a blowgun, and usually hits the target.
Blake is very strong, and can kill a small animal with his bare hands.
|Blake cannot climb trees very well, and he cannot run very fast.||Veku123|
|2||Lindsay Pearce||18||Throwing knives||
Lindsay always hits the target with throwing knives - she's possibly the best in the arena.
Lindsay is very swift, very sleek and is an escape artist.
|Lindsay is not very strong, and small for her age.||Tfesta|
Michael is very handy with a dagger - he knows which part of the body to slit to weaken and kill the victim quickly.
Michael is also very good with throwing knives, yet it may take a few attempts for him to hit a bullseye.
Michael is also highly skilled with wire and electricity.
|Michael is not fast or strong, which won't help at all.||Silvereye1|
Dani is skilled with snares, and knows a variety of them.
She is also skilled with axes, hand and throwing ones.
Dani is extremely fast, almost impossible to catch.
|Dani is not strong at all, actually really weak.||Mr.Billboard|
Charlie is extremely talented with tridents - hand and throwing.
He is very strong and fast, which will come in handy.
|Charlie is clueless when it comes to poisonous plans, and he is very naiive.||Xoxoamyxoxo|
Aylin is very talented with throwing knives, and almost always hits the bullseye.
She is also very talented with a trident, throwing tridents.
Aylin is also an extremely good swimmer.
|Aylin cannot climb trees for her life, or escape from capture.||Krazysam16|
Abraham is highly skilled with a slingshot; he places knives into the band and shoots them at his targets.
He is also talented with knives, and can slit throats with one quick flit-of-the-wrist.
Abraham is very, very fast, and is a talented escape artist.
|Abraham is not strong at all and cannot climb trees.||Rory sugar123|
|5||Marissa Von Bleicken||16||
Marissa is very good at maces because of her strength, and she knows which part of the body to hit.
She is also very talented at spear-throwing, and always pierces the center of the neck.
Marissa is very strong, which is very surprising as she is very thin.
|Marissa is not a very good tree-climber, and she is deaf in one ear.||Abwiz92|
|6||Alex Newell||18||Bow and arrow||
Alex is skilled with a bow and arrow, and almost always hits the target.
Alex is not very good at anything apart from his archery skills.
|Alex is slightly overweight, which he hates.||Sunriseondarkenedseas|
Bow and arrow
Ali is highly-skilled with arrows, and always hits the bullseye.
She is also talented with throwing knives, and always hits the target.
|Because she was paralyzed from the waist down before the Games (the Capitol's drugs helped her legs), her legs are weak, so she can't run, swim or climb trees very well.||Mr.Billboard|
|7||Matheus Fernandes||17||Blowgun||Matheus is very skilled with a blowgun, and almost always hits the bullseye.||Because Matheus is not very tall, he cannot run very well.||Bartieandquick+6|
Hannah is extremely good at throwing axes, and knows where to throw.
She is also skilled with a dagger, and she can throw them as well.
|Hannah is slightly overweight, which she hates.||SteelDeath|
Bryce is not skilled with many things, yet he is very strong and a baton comes in handy.
He can also make nets with ease.
|He's got no training in combat.||Bartieandquick+6|
Bow and arrow
|Ellis is highly skilled with weapons, as she was trained in secret. She is a talented archer, a brilliant knife-thrower and a skilled blowgun user.||Ellis is not fast, not strong, not a good swimmer or tree climber.||Josh Bullin24|
Samuel is extremely strong, and can break a neck in a few seconds.
He is also handy with a sword, and can throw one too.
|Samuel is not fast, and a rubbish swimmer.||Vesperent|
|9||Lily Mae Harrington||16||Throwing axes||Lily is not trained in weapons, yet she is alright in the throwing axes department.||Lily is not trained at all.||Xoxoamyxoxo|
Bow and arrow
Cameron is a skilled archer, and almost always hits the bullseye.
He is also talented with throwing axes.
|He is not strong at all, and he can't climb trees.||LetItRock898|
|Taryn can slit throats in a heartbeat using any sharp weapons.||Taryn is not strong, fast, a good swimmer or a good tree-climber.||Saaronbob22|
Mario is very strong, and can swing an axe about with ease.
He can also decapitate a victim using his sickle.
|Because he's just overcoming his blindness (drugs from the Capitol have helped him), his vision blacks out occasionally.||SteelDeath|
Bow and arrow
McKynleigh is highly skilled with throwing sickles, an unusal talent.
She is also a talented archer.
|McKynleigh may be fast, yet she's not strong. At all.||Josh Bullin24|
|12||Damian McGinty||17||Throwing knives||Damian is very talented with throwing knives, and 99% of the time hits the heart of the victim.||Damian is not strong, and he cannot swim very well.||QFabrayGleek4eva|
Bow and arrow
Nellie is probably one of the best archers in the arena.
She is also very good at throwing knives.
|Nellie is not very fast, and she cannot climb trees at all.||LetItRock898|
Sponsoring is very simple. You sponsor the tribute of your choice, and throughout the games, you send them gifts and survival items.
You must have an account.
Ways to get money:
Top ten: $45
Top five: $50
Top three: $100
|Bread||$5||+ 5% Health||Ten slices|
|Whole Chicken||$15||+ 7% Health||Will last five days before going off|
|Fruits (two apples, two oranges, two bananas and a handful of grapes)||$10||+ 10% Health||Will mould after six days|
|Water Bottle (2 litres)||$20||+ 10% Health||In a metal bottle|
|Water Bottle (5 litres)||$30||+ 15% Health||In a metal bottle|
|Anti-biotics||$30||+ 15% Health||Twenty in a pack|
|Painkillers||$30||+ 5% Health||Twenty-five in a pack|
|Burn Cream||$50||+ 20% Health||Enough to cover the entire body - use wisely.|
|First Aid Kit||$100||+ 50% Health||Heals three injuries|
|Blanket||$20||+ 10% warmth (5% Health)||Thin, won't keep that much heat in|
|Normal Sleeping Bag||$30||+ 20% warmth (8% Health)||Highly flammable, un-rippable|
|Body-heat-reflecting Sleeping Bag||$35||+ 30% warmth (10% Health, depending on the weather)||Un-flamable, un-rippable, thick and warm.|
|Throwing Knives (x10)||$55|
|Throwing Axes (x5)||$130|
|Throwing Darts (x5)||$20|
Spoilers and Announcments
- They'll be at least two romances.
- One Career tribute will betray the alliance.
- Cameron and Nellie will ally together.
- There will be a Feast on Day 6.
- I decided to skip the Interviews because they were taking too much time and I wanted to get the Games started!
Training (Day 1)
Lindsay's POV (2)
I fidget around in my skin-tight, navy-blue training suit that we've all been forced to wear. We're standing in a circle around the training instructor, and I take a glance around at the other tributes. The girl from District 4 is very strong looking, and the boy from District 1 looks like he's the Incredible Hulk, so I know that this is going to be tough. But no matter. I'm going to win.
The training instructor finally stops yakking and the circle instantly splits and spreads off around the room. I look round at all the weapons in awe - burnished, sleek, cuspate longswords...glossy, heavy axes...perfectly-styled silver arrows and sterling bows with freshly-threaded string. The noise instantly starts roaring and limbs of dummies begin to fly around to room; I watch as the girl from District 12 pierces the heart of a dummy with one of the arrows.
"Hey, Lindsay!" I hear my district partner, Blake, shout. I turn to see him pointing at a pearly-white table with a colossal selection of sharp, sparkling blades with gold and bronze handles. I beam, finally finding my weapon, and run over to the table. My gaunt fingers entwine round the handle of an acute blade and I turn towards a row of three light-blue dummies with bullseyes on the heart, head and stomach.
The bullseyes on the first dummy lights up. With all my might, I lift up my arm and throw. It flies through the air at a terrifying speed and buries itself into the perfect bullseye of the heart. The second dummy lights up, and I grab a random knife and toss it at the plastic figure - it sinks into the head. Finally, the third one alights, and I choose my blade carefully. A thin, curved one sits, undisturbed, on the table. I grab it and throw. It pierces the stomach of the dummy.
Three perfect bullseyes. I'm gonna win this thing.
Nellie's POV (12)
As I pull back the string on the longbow with a smooth, silvery arrow, I realise that I might actually have a shot at winning this thing. I only learnt how to shoot when my friend started, and she bugged me to do it. She wasn't very good, yet she set up a training course in her back yard and taught me. She was so jealous when she realised I was a very good shot.
I release the tough, taut string and the arrow zips through the air and sinks deep inside the plastic dummy's chest, right through the center of the bullseye. Pleased, I take another arrow and position it on the string when a loud bang causes me to jump and sends the arrow flying to the other side of the room, just narrowly missing the boy from District 1's head. His head whips round, searching for the person who shot the arrow, then he sees me with the bow in my hand.
"What the hell was that?" he bellows, and I drop the bow in sheer fright. He's huge, with rock-hard biceps and a stocky figure. "You trying to kill me? Huh? Are you?"
"N....no...it was....was an accid...accident...." I manage to squeak out as he towers over me. "You made me...jump so...I fired..."
"I'm gonna kill you. I'll see you at the Cornucopia - you'll be dead!" he shouts then walks off, swearing under his breath. This gets me annoyed. So annoyed that I grab an arrow and fire it at the dummy that stands peacefully next to him. He jumps a foot in the air as he sees the spike bury itself within the bullseye on the model then turns to me. The last thing I see is what I think is an impressed grin on his face before he turns away.
Aylin's POV (4)
So, I'm from District 4. I was probably bred by sea creatures. So when I see the newly-installed swimming pool at the edge of the room, I know where I'm going first. I instantly run towards the perfectly-retangular, 50 metres pool and the young woman standing there says that I'm going to have to swim in the skin-tight, blue outfit I'm wearing, as it's waterproof. Satisfied, I stand at the edge of the pool and wait as others decide to join. I don't know any of their names, a couple of them, their districts.
As soon as I hear the bang, I know what to do. I dive a good metre into the pool and begin to kick my legs and bend my arms furiously, propelling myself with ease through the warm, almost hot water. As I swiftly glance over my shoulder, I slow a little, but it doesn't matter as I'm so far in front I could put my legs down and walk the rest of the way, but I don't. I keep swimming. I cut through the water effortlessly, fast and quick, until I reach the other end of the pool. That was easy.
I slither out of the water and run my fingers across my suit to find it almost bone-dry. My hair dripping and soaking wet, I tug it out of it's tight ponytail and let it fall in scraggly waves down my face. The one tribute I recognize - Charlie Lubeck, the boy from District 4, the boy who leapt forward to volunteer for a young 12-year-old who was reaped - comes a close second. I watch him climb out the pool and run his fingers through his ebony, curled hair and flash me a quick grin.
The brawny fellow from District 1 comes out the water next and he just looks jealous. He places his hand on Charlie's shoulder and, in a deep voice, says "Come on, Career training's next." My smile falls as I realize that he's a Careers.
Huh. There's my ally gone.
Training (Day 2)
Charlie's POV (4)
I don't know why, but I can't take my eyes off my district partner. I watch her toss a knife from one side of the room to the other and grin as the blade sinks deep into the center of the red bullseye, and I can't help but smile myself. I look over to Blake, the boy from District 2, who's also in the Careers, and watch him throw an axe at a dummy and see the head fly off and hit the rack of arrows where the the boy from District 10 is standing, causing the arrows to fall onto the floor in a heap.
"Hey, Blake!" I call, and he halts about to throw a huge, scary-looking axe and wanders over to me.
"What's up?" he asks, and it reminds me how creepy his voice sounds when he talks. Slightly intimidated, I swallow the lump in my throat.
"Erm, you see the girl over there? The one with the orange hair?" I inquire and point over to Aylin, who's just destroyed a mannequin with a beautiful silver trident that she's a natural with. "I think she'd be good in the Careers. I mean, I've been watching her; she can throw knives like Lindsay, and have you seen her with a trident?"
"And you really think there's gonna be a trident at the Cornucopia?" snaps Blake, looking a little angry at my comment. My eyebrows raise.
"If we kill enough and get some money, maybe sponsors could get some?" I suggest, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her dig a trident into a dummy's chest and watch it explode into a pile of cotton and plastic. Impressed, it takes effort to drag my eyes back to the brawny monster in front of me.
"Hmm..." mutters Blake, and I realise that he's watching her too. "Not bad. Alright, alright. Go and ask her - she might come in handy." Delighted, I stumble over to her as she finally takes a break from demolishing all the figurines and slumps down against the wall, obviously tired out. Her hair is dripping water, so she must have been in the pool again. Her chocolate-brown eyes flicker towards me, and I know she recognizes me from the pool yesterday.
"I'm not joining the Careers," she says before I even open my mouth. "I've been watching you and the others for ages - you're all brilliant, and you don't need my skill." Surprised, I lean against one of the remaining, unscathed dummies and raise my eyebrows so high it hurts. "I know that you were forced to train - I saw your mum dragging you to the center, and you were screaming that you thought you were gonna get killed. Then you came out at the end of the day and you had definently been crying - your eyes were all puffy and red - and there was a long red mark down your arm."
"How do you know all this?" I ask, bewildered. Aylin smiles that gorgeous smile, stands up, grabs that silver trident and tucks it under her arm. Before she walks away, she replies with a smug grin.
"I have my ways."
Cameron's POV (10)
I fire another arrow and it shifts just a few centimetres away from the bullseye. Frustrated, I throw down the bow and slump down against the wall. What is up with me? Normally I can hit fifty bullseyes in a row, but today I haven't hit one for ages. I watch the girls from District 12, District 8 and District 6 shooting bullseyes in perfect synchronization with each other, and the boy from 6 is even doing better than me, and he doesn't hit many perfect shots.
Maybe it's just nerves - I've got no chance of winning this at all. At first I thought I did, but then I saw the size of some of the boys and I knew I was dead. The boys from 1 and 2 are just massive, and the boy from 4 is quite brawny too.
"Hey," I hear a voice say, and I look up to see the pale face of the girl from District 12. "You look right annoyed. What's up?"
"Nothing," I say through gritted teeth, trying to make her go away, yet she sees right through it. Her eyes wander over to the bow I tossed onto the floor, and she wonders over and picks it up.
"You do archery too?" she asks. I nod once. "Huh. Loads of the others are good at it too, so I'm going to have a tough game."
"I'm normally a good shot, but I just haven't been able to focus. I've been watching you and the other girls - you're amazing at it! I saw you shoot that arrow at the District 1 boy -" I smile.
"Who, Maxfield? That was an accident!" she hisses, and suddenly she flings the bow in my direction. I seize the slick, metallic shape and Nellie grabs a sagittal arrow and positions it on the firm string them hands it to me. I pull back the arrow with all my might.
"Three...two...one..." she whispers, and I let go. The point whizzes through the air at a racing speed and pushes into the center, and I can't stop a broad grin invade my mouth. Nellie pats my shoulder and goes to join the two girls she was shooting with before. Huh. Maybe I can do this.
Michael's POV (3)
As I arrange the arid twigs beneath the fake grass, I look around at the selection of tributes that I'll have to kill this year. Some of them are huge and athletic, mostly the ones from the richer districts, whilst some of them look like they'd blow over at the slightest breeze. There seem to be a lot of knife-throwers and archers around this year, so it turns out my skills might not be so useful this year. However, I can very easily reactivate landmines and make wire, so I might have a shot at this.
As I watch the girl from District 2 toss knives to the other side of the room, I jump as the flame I just created licks my fingers and leaves me with a small, crimson gash on my index finger. I'm in the survival section and I'm a natural at making fires, but only if there's any wood, which there should be. The Survival Section of this center is very quaint looking, with trees and large sand patches and small pools scattered round everywhere. I don't think the arena will look like this, but these Gamemakers have got some very strange imaginations. I remember my mom telling my about the Third Quarter Quell, and the whole clock business, and how more than one got out.
I climb a tree and nestle myself on a branch which outlooks the whole of the training center. I can see everyone here. The Careers are just smashing up mannequins left, right and center; the girl from District 4 is swimming laps of the pool; three or four girls are huddled up in the corner, shooting arrows at the dummies and each getting perfect bullseyes whilst the others are just hanging round and cutting off the limbs of dummies with small swords or daggers.
The young woman in charge of the Survival Section walks up to the tree I'm in and looks up. She's really pretty, with long blonde hair and huge blue eyes, outlined with kohl to make them look bigger. I think her name's Aribelle - I wasn't really listening when she introduced herself. I smile, slide down the tree slowly and make my way over to the electrical section. I see a long, thin, grey wire all bunched up and take it in my palm; I try not to enclasp my hand round it as it looks sharp, and the last thing I need is an injury before the games, even if it is just a little cut.
A large, black object sits on the floor, and Aribelle says that's the electricity source, so I carefully entwine the wire round the rubber area and yank my hand away when I hear a buzz that signals the wire is live. Aribelle hands my some weird green gloves that are furry inside, and I slide them off and find that I can touch the wire without falling down dead. I pick up the box and carry it next to a tree, then, camoflauging it as much as I can, wrap it round the tree bark and the bulky branches and delicate leaves until it's practically invisible.
"Aribelle, it's live!" I say, and she goes behind one of the huge trees and comes back out clutching some kind of animal. It's a dark brown color with golden eyes and a rat-like body - maybe it's a Mutt that the Capitol's made. She places it on the tree, making sure her flesh doesn't touch the tree, and just as the mutt takes it's first step, there's a quiet zap and the animal drops down onto the floor, still like stone, cold like ice.
I could take out the whole arena with this.
After the individual training, each contender gets a training score, showing how good the Gamemakers thing they are. The highest score possible is 12.
Maxfield received a score of 10.
Shanna received a score of 9.
Blake received a score of 10.
Lindsay received a score of 10.
Michael received a score of 8.
Dani received a score of 7.
Charlie received a score of 9.
Aylin received a score of 11.
Abraham received a score of 7.
Marissa received a score of 6.
Alex received a score of 5.
Ali received a score of 5.
Matheus received a score of 8.
Hannah received a score of 5.
Bryce received a score of 7.
Ellis received a score of 10.
Samuel received a score of 8.
Lily Mae received a score of 5.
Cameron received a score of 7.
Taryn received a score of 6.
Mario received a score of 8.
McKynleigh received a score of 7.
Damian received a score of 9.
Nellie received a score of 10.
Current Status In The Games
Bold - alive
Normal - dead
P.S. The health bar is not at all accurate, so on the sponsor page, please ignore the 'regeneration' section.
|District||Name||Health||Location||In Need Of|
|1||Maxfield Camp||89% (Healthy)||Cornucopia||Nothing|
|2||Lindsay Pearce||89% (Healthy)||Cornucopia||Nothing|
|4||Charlie Lubeck||89% (Healthy)||Island One||Water|
|4||Aylin Bayramoglu||86% (Healthy)||Island One||Water|
|5||Marissa Von Bleicken||DECEASED||DECEASED||DECEASED|
|9||Lily Mae Harrington||DECEASED||DECEASED||DECEASED|
|12||Nellie Veitenheimer||80% (Healthy)||Island Four||Nothing|
|Place||Name||District||Killed by||Cause of Death|
|23rd||Samuel Larsen||9||Aylin Bayramoglu||Stabbed in chest|
|22nd||Hannah Mclalwain||7||Lindsay Pearce||Knife in neck|
|21st||Ellis Wylie||8||Blake Jenner||Axe in back|
|20th||Mario Bonds||11||Cameron Mitchell||Arrow in temple|
|19th||Lily Mae Harrington||9||Nellie Veitenheimer||Arrow in chest|
|18th||Ali Stoker||6||Blake Jenner||Decapitated|
|17th||Bryce Ross-Johnson||8||Charlie Lubeck||Sickle in chest|
|16th||Abraham Lim||5||Lindsay Pearce||Knife in chest|
|15th||Matheus Fernandes||7||Cameron Mitchell||Arrow in temple|
|14th||Alex Newell||6||Marissa Von Bleicken||Head cracked open|
|13th||Damian McGinty||12||Mutts/Aylin Bayramoglu||Knife in chest (act of mercy)|
|12th||Taryn Mai||10||Nature||Poisonous flowers|
|11th||Marissa Von Bleicken||5||Charlie Lubeck||Trident in throat|
|10th||Shanna Henderson||1||Nellie Veitenheimer||Arrow in heart|
|9th||McKynleigh Abraham||11||Lindsay Pearce||Throat slit|
And Let The Games Begin!
The tributes stand in a circle around a huge, golden Cornucopia which is covered in various different backpacks. They are outdoors, standing in a glass box, with long blades of lush grash surrounding them. The tributes are surprised, some terrified, when they see the vast areas of ocean surrounding them, and the colossal islands that are visible in the distance. The tributes decide which island they will go to. Alliances get ready.
10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Ladies and gentlemen, let The Glee Project: Hunger Games begin!
Aylin's POV (4)
I leap up from my glass box and sprint as fast as I can towards the gleaming Cornucopia which is loaded with numerous backpacks that could contain anything. My shoes slip as I scale the burnished metal, eyeing a huge pack sitting right on the top, waiting to be snatched. I flex my clothed arm and hook it onto my wrist, and I find it extremely heavy. I zip it open and find a collection of items - a large, curved blade sits at the top of the pile. It's long and cuspate, with a brass handle inscribed with patterns and images. Satisfied, I turn to leap off when I come face-to-face with a brawny boy, who's hair is twisted into punk-looking dreadlocks; I recognise him from training. He can break a neck in seconds. His hands encompass my neck, but his grip loosens when I sink the knife into his chest. BOOM!!
Hannah's POV (7)
I don't want to go to the Cornucopia, but I remember what my mentor said on the train ride. I can't survive without supplies, and the Gamemakers have placed all the backpacks, even the smaller ones, near the golden structure. I leap out of my box and run as fast as I can towards the beautiful-looking shape; a small backpacks sits among the lengthy blades of grass, undisturbed. I bend down and haul it onto my back, but as I go to dive into the water, a sharp pain in my back stops me and pulls me to the ground. As the pain spreads, I writhe about, the backpack's straps preventing my arms from movement. There's a knife in my back. Finally I wriggle my right arm free and attempt to yank the blade from my flesh, I feel a stranger hand against mine. I freeze, and then I see two pale, brusied hands grab my arms and turn me onto my back. The last thing I see is the girl from District 2 before she sinks the blade into my neck. BOOM!!
Nellie's POV (12)
I look around, frozen in fright, as bodies crumple to the floor. I watch as the boy from District 2 toss an axe at Ellis, the District 8 girl, and she collapses and rolls into the ocean. BOOM!! Then I watch as Cameron, the boy I helped in training, fires an arrow at the boy from District 11 and gets a perfect shot to the temple. BOOM!! No, I'm not going to the Cornucopia, but I need a weapon. "Nellie!" I hear a voice shout, and I turn to see Cameron tossing a silver longbow and three arrows at my feet. Without hesitation, I scoop them up and place the arrow on the thick string whilst running towards the edge of the island. A whistling sound gets louder behind me, and I duck. Not quick enough, as a small axe whizzes past my face, taking a large lump of my ebony hair with it. I turn to see the girl from District 9 standing there, her arms loaded with many different axes. But when she sees the bow in my hands, she knows she's dead. And she is, when my glistening arrow buries itself withing his chest. BOOM!!
Charlie's POV (4)
Ugh, no tridents! Still, knives will do. As I dash from my plate, I see Blake decapitate the girl from District 6 as she leaps into the water; her body floats on the now-red surface. Shaking the image from my mind, I weave through the crowd of fighting children and jump onto the Cornucopia in one big leap. Catching my balance and landing on the balls of my feet, I see two backpacks within my reach; I only manage to grab one before another tanned hand grabs the other one. I look up to see who I suspect is the girl from District 3. She's weaponless, and so am I, so she just legs it off the structure and dives into the water. Just as I'm about to run, I see who I know is Bryce, the boy from 8. He's towering over a frightened tribute, and there's a sickle in his left hand. Easy target! I wrap my arms around his neck and throw him off the Cornucopia, then grab the sickle he dropped and throw it down at him. It sinks into his chest. BOOM!! I look back at the tribute who he was about to kill, ready to kill them myself, when I see who it is. It's Aylin.
Lindsay's POV (2)
I watch as Charlie, a fellow Career, stares into the eyes of his district partner. "Kill her, Charlie. Kill her!" I mutter under my breath, but he's frozen solid, just looking at her. When he finally moves, he's not drawing his weapons like I would straight away. He's sliding his backpack from his shoulders and dropping it at her feet. Charlie, you complete and utter - my thoughts are disturbed when I see someone running at me, his long sword pointing at me. I react, drag a knive from my belt and toss it in his direction. It skids across the top of his right eye, knocking him down, blood gushing onto the ground. Now that he's vulnerable, I jump onto him, holding him down, my feet on his chest, and drive my knife deep down into his chest. BOOM!!
The bloodbath is over...the cannon fires eight times.
Cameron's POV (10)
I leap into the water, and it's a lot deeper than I expect. I kick my legs until they feel like they are made of rags, and I pull the water back with my arms until they are limp and lifeless. I gag several times as the water shoots up my nose and fills my mouth and stings my eyes, but I keep going until I know that I'm about to drown. Spluttering, I feel something soft beneath my arms, and it takes quite a few minutes for me to realize that I'm clinging onto the coast of a strange looking island. Relieved, I haul myself onto the grassy bank and collapse onto the plant-covered floor, my hair and clothes dripping freezing cold salt water. Whipping my head around, scanning for other tributes, I shrug the tiny backpack I managed to scoop up and almost tear it open. I turn the bag upside down and the contents fall out; a small knife with a gold handle, ten slick golden arrows, a small but deadly axe and, to my sheer delight, a sterling bow that folds up with the help of hinges. Using the one snare I know, I unfold the bow, place an arrow on the string, pull it back and grab a small rock that sits quietly a metre away from me. I position the rock on the arrow in such a way that it holds the arrow back. If anyone tries to take my weapons, they'll be in for a surprise.
Matheus' POV (7)
As I drag my aching feet across the grass, my stomach grumbles so loud I bet someone could hear it from a seperate island. My belly is sore, crying out for something to eat, screaming in protest against its emptiness. The sky is fractionally darkening, turning a strange shade of navy and the starts blossoming like flowers. The grass is wet, the soil damp as if rain has just fallen. Fighting against the urge to double over and mute the pain, I hook my arm over a low tree branch and swing my legs up against the gnarled trunk, and throw myself up onto the branch. Balancing on the balls of my feet, I push up on another branch up onto a rather high bulky tree limb and rest, arms folded over my stomach. Beep... beep... beep... a nearby noise distracts me. Completely weaponless, I scrunch myself behind the bark, praying to be invisible to the naked eye, but as the beeping fades away, I feel a light clunk on my head. A rather large metal sphere attached to a crisp white paragraph is nestling next to me, and I beam as I clasp it in my left hand and untie the parachute. Just as the string manages to unknot, my leg slips and I fall a good four metres to the floor. "Ow!" I can't stop myself from crying out in pain. I know it was a mistake, especially when a figure emerges from the bushes, weapons drawn. I can't do anything now. A sudden pain shoots through the side of my head, and I collapse, my limbs suddenly made of rag. BOOM!!
Maxfield's POV (1)
The sky is pitch black, the only light is the gargantuan, pearly moon that shines down directly onto the Cornucopia. Most of us are awake, only Lindsay is snoozing quietly under a thick, padded blanket Charlie picked up; Shanna's keeping guard, and the rest of us are sheltered under the roof of the burnished golden structure. Just as I'm about to droop off myself, a sudden noise alerts me. Beep... beep... beep... The beeping is loud and piercing, and it hurts my ears just listening to it.
"What's that?" asks Shanna, and I shrug. She rolls her eyes, and stands and climbs onto the structure. I jump at the loud whoop she gives, and she jumps back down clutching a large metal package which takes both hands. She dumps it under the shelter of the roof and unties the thick coil which holds it together. I wriggle out Lindsay's knife that her fingers are loosly entwined around, and sink it into the top of the box and rip it open. A mass of supplies fall out, spreading all over the damp vegetation.
"Blimey, supplies on the first day?" says Charlie in surprise, and I gently nudge Lindsay to awaken her before drawing my attention back to the gift. My hands rummage through the pile, and the first thing I draw out is a beautiful bronze longbow and a leather quiver full of silver arrows. I toss them to Shanna, knowing she's competant with a bow. The next thing I draw out is the most gorgeous sword I've ever seen - the handle is gold, with an opal and designed encrusted in the metal, and the blade sterling and cuspate.
"This is mine," I declare, I place the sword gently next to me. My hand fumbles on yet another blade, and I drag out an elegant silver trident with the word 'Charlie' carved in fancy letters on the handle. I launch the trident at Charlie who catches it and gazes at the weapon in sheer delight. A glossy sickle with a scary-looking blade fals out, and Blake lunges for it.
"Who's been sending us all this?" Lindsay mutters, kneeling beside me, obviously just awakening. I shrug, not really caring. I sink my hand into the now-rather-small pile and draw out a loaf of bread which I throw in a random direction, and it lands in Charlie's pale arms. "We've got a lot of stuff. I say this will last us probably five days if we work it well... we've got to keep it in tins so it doesn't go mouldy," continues Lindsay, and slithers back under the blanket. "Come on, let's sleep now." And I rest my head against the grass, watching Shanna as she fires her arrow at a nearby tree.
Marissa's POV (5)
I don't know which island I'm on, never mind if there are any tributes hanging round. I'm freezing cold, it was pouring it down last night and my stomach will not shut up! Ugh, why am I complaining? I don't see the point in moaning when I'm definently going to die sooner or later - I may be strong, but have you seen the size of some of them other tributes? I don't have any weapons, no food and I can sense that a tribute is close. Taking a deep breath in, I haul myself up from the ground, my knees and elbows caked in mud, and start tracking across the boggy earth. I snap a large branch off a nearby tree and use it as a walking stick; the marshy floor makes my shoes sink down beneath the grass, and it's not long before I rip two huge leaves off a plant and tie them round my shoes. They work, and I soon start running before I hear a twig snap behind me.
A glint in the earth catches my eye, and I bend down and scoop it up. It's a large sphere attched to a dirty parachute, and I know it's meant for me. So THAT'S what that beeping was! I think as I untie the tangled ropes and rip open the shape. A huge, glossy mace tumbles out, and what looks like a small metal water container. Relieved, I gulp down two litres before I get distracted by more twigs snap behind me. Louder. Louder. I turn and toss the mace in the direction the noise comes from, and I know I've hit success when a cry emerges from the bushes. BOOM!! I've no clue who I've just killed, and I don't care. I decide to grab my mace and leg it before their allies come storming through the bushes.
Michael's POV (3)
I shrug out of my muddy shirt and dive into the water. It's heated up a little - bordering on lukewarm - but I really need to clean some of this dirt off my body, cause I bet my downfall is going to be when another tribute smells me. Shaking the salty drips from my hair, I prop myself up against the coast of the island and repeatedly dunk my head beneath the waves; I'm sure I'm alone, but this is the Hunger Games, and they'll probably send in a huge pack of Mutts to tear me apart. I'm so relaxed right now, my muscles aren't working, so someone could storm through the bushes, hold my head under the water for a few minutes and I'd be a gonna, so I whip my head round every time I hear a twig snap or a leaf rustle. Beep... beep... beep... the noise makes me leap out of the ocean and clench my fists, but then I feel a light clunk on my head and I drop to the floor, slightly dazed. Sitting peacefully next to me is a rather large metal sphere that I tear apart. What tumbles out surprises and delights me - a large loaf of bread, a sterling water container and a smooth, glossy mace with deathly spikes protruding out of the large club end. Haha. I'm back!
Aylin's POV (4)
I swerve past another tree as I run through the thick, dense woodland, a large amount of weight on my back. I opened the first backpack ages ago, but then I heard something and I fled as fast as I could. The jet black bag I have now is the one Charlie gave me at the bloodbath. Charlie. I haven't seen his image in the sky yet, but I slept a lot longer that I usually would last night and it's possible that I missed it. I hope he's not dead. I mean, he's a Career so he probably won't be dead, but still, he would make a good ally. I watched him in training. He whizzed past the rope course, took out at least twenty dummies and still had the time to come and talk to me. Trying to catch my breath, I collapse against a tree and slide my backpack from my shoulders, exhausted. Beep... beep... beep... I immediately draw my knife at the sudden noise, but I relax when I see a large package floating down from the sky. Catching it in both arms, it's unusally heavy, so heavy that I gratefully place it on the leaf-blanketed floor. I untie the coil and it spills open; wrapped in a thin blanket is a majestic bronze trident with my name enscribed on in the fanciest font I've ever seen, a small bag of fresh, juicy fruit and a small metal water container.
I'm just about to take a large swig before I hear a twig snap behind me.
Damian's POV (12)
I am so exhausted. My legs are throbbing like hell, and I am covered in a thick sheen of benumbing salt water. I just ran to the end of one of the islands and swam until I hit new ground. Why? Because, out of nowhere, a whole pack of Mutts came out and chased me to the coast. I dived in and swam to this island, and now I'm even more lost than before. I hook my arm onto a branch and drag myself across the terrain, trying desperately not to collapse cause I'll be such an easy target if I do. Breathing heavily, I'm just about to give up when I see something through the trees. I yelp, believing it to be a Mutt, but then I see it's long, thin arms outstretch and I know it's another tribute. I draw a long, thick knife from my belt and take a step forward, but pause and wince when I hear a twig snap under my foot. My 'victim' whips their head round and I only get to see the bright brown of their eyes when I hear that unmistakable growl behind me. The tribute screams and tries to climb a nearby tree, and it's clear she can't climb trees very well, but she manages to get to a high branch in a few seconds. I turn, and am eye-to-eye with my worst nightmare. It looks like a cross between a wolf and a bear; it's hairless, its flesh a deep ebony color. It's eyes are a bright yellow glow, a perfect oval shape each. It's pearly, cuspate teeth drip saliva, and all I can do is freeze and breath heavily.
The pain. Oh, the pain. God, the pain. The pain is excruciating. All I can do is scream as the monster sinks its sharpened teeth deep into my left arm, tearing through the muscle and fat like a knife through butter. Crimson blood pulses out the many wounds at an extreme speed, and the pain. Oh god, the pain. "HELP!" I screech until my throat is red-raw, until my lungs are bone dry and empty. "HELP ME! HELP! AH! HOLY...HELP!" I look up at the tribute, a girl, who's perched up higher in the tree. "PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE! PLEASE STOP IT!" She gives what I think is a nod, and the last thing I see is her knife hurtling towards my bloodied chest. BOOM!!
Dani's POV (3)
I nibble on an arid beef strip before hauling my heavy rucksack on my back and set off along the island. My legs are still aching a little after the seemingly endless swim I took yesterday, but at least I wasn't injured. I think I'm the only one on this island, which is reassuring, I guess. I sit on the coast, dangling my sore legs in the water; the sea is getting warm now, so I decide to shrug out of my jacket and slide down into the waves. I'm alone, the only sound is what I think are mockingjays singing, and it couldn't get more relaxing. Ugh, how can the Hunger Games be relaxing? I'm going to get killed sooner or later - I have no weapons, so all I can survive on is food and my knowledge with snares. That bag that I picked up contained food and a long but weak coil of wire, yet without a knife or a sword, it's no use. I slip my head under the water and run my fingers through my hair, trying to get the dirt out, when I hear a faint noise. Beep... beep... beep... I drag my head from under the waves and whip my head round, almost getting whiplash, but when I see a splash out of the corner of my eye, I duck and swim to where the ripples are forming. My hands cup around a hefty metal sphere with is actually very big. I bring it up the surface and throw it back onto land, then crawl out of the water, slip my jacket back on and crack the box open. A large, smooth, glossy mace tumbles onto the lawn, gleaming in the sunlight. I give a small squeal of delight. Perfect. I'm back, bitches!
Shanna's POV (1)
I snuggle under the thickest blanket, wrapping it around my slim body to trap out the cold. The temperature has shot down like crazy, and the Cornucopia may offer some shelter, but it does little to block the cold out. I can feel my district partner Maxfield stirring round, and Lindsay's short, quiet snores as she sleeps on Blake's arm. It's pitch black outside, which doesn't really help Charlie, who's on guard, armed with his trident. I bet he's asleep. I fell asleep last night, and now a couple of my arrows have gone missing. There are lots of archers this year, so I'm going to have to pick them off, one by one. The hilarious thing is that, as a group, we haven't killed anyone yet. Then again, once the Gamemakers find a way to get us all on one island, then it will be easy. I can hear the birds singing as I roll over, desperately trying to get comfortable. Bored out of my mind, I give up, throw the blanket from my body and go outside the Cornucopia.
The only light is the large moon. It may be fake, but it looks so authentic. Charlie is half-sitting, half-lying next to the side of the metal, his eyelids drooping, fingers slowly loosening their grip on the gorgeous trident he recieved. I slap him on the arm, awakening him from his slumber, and he immediately leaps up onto his feet and aimes his trident, looking round, dazed slightly. It's only when he hears my laugh is when he relaxes and sighs. "Why are you awake? I'm the guard."
"You're doing a pretty crap job of it - you were half asleep!" I snicker, and roll my eyes. Charlie smiles and throws his trident at a nearby tree, and the middle point of the trident pierces the neck of a squirrel that's just crept out of a small opening in the tree. "Nice shot," I mention before crawling back into the Cornucopia and hurrying under the blanket before the cold reaches me.
McKynleigh's POV (11)
I run through the colossal amount of dense woodland until I reach the clifftop. The sky is a beautiful baby-pink color, the trees lush and green, the ground hard yet comfy. I can see the other few islands from here - I can see a girl up in a tree on what I think is Island Two, tossing knives at a nearby tree and wiping what looks like blood from her clothes. I guess it was her who killed the boy from District 12. I saw her in training - she got the highest score. I've got a feeling that she's gonna win, or at least be in the top. God, what am I doing here? Why was my name picked out of that bowl? Why me? There were thousands of girls...I only had my name in a couple times. Alright, more than a few. I took out some tesserae, but we were starving, and I had to, so I guess I had it coming. Ugh, what's the point of just sitting here and moping; there's probably a tribute hot on my trail right now. I'm half-expecting to turn around and find someone standing there, weapon in hand, really to throw. Beep... beep... beep... that's probably the sound of some kind of electric machine charging up. Getting ready for the blow, I scrunch my eyes up and let my body relax against a tree, but I feel no pain. The leaves above my head rustle, and I feel a slight clunk on my head. Nestling next to me on the crumbling rocks next to me is a rather large, sparkling clean metal ball, attached to a cream-colored cloth with thick string. I have no blades to cut it with, so I just toss it at a tree and it explodes open like an egg. Wrapped in transulcent plastic is, what I suspect, a loaf of bread. And next to it is a curved blade with a wooden handle, a sickle, with my name on it in fancy writing. I stare at them in disbelief, then hurridley scoop them up before anyone else reaches them.
Nellie's POV (12)
I drag myself across the land, backpack slung over my shoulder, legs aching, down to my last arrow. Ugh, it's been three days and I've gotten nowhere. The ground is wet and slippy, and my shoes are ripped and my socks are soaked. I managed to find shelter underneath a huge group of trees, so the downfall last night didn't really affect me, but I'm getting hungry and I can't afford to lose my last arrow on a bad shot. I shot about ten squirrels the other day, but they were gone the next day, so someone or something passed. But why didn't they kill me? I would have.
I hear a noise behind me and place my final arrow on the taut bow string, but relax when I find it's just another squirrel. I'm just about to let my arrow fly, when I hear a thud and see the animal lying dead on the ground, a gold spike buried within its stomach. I look down, checking that I didn't accidently let go of the arrow, and gasp when I find it still on the bowstring. I pull back the arrow, arm shaking, about to let go, when I see who I'm aiming at. He emerges from the bushes, arrow also aimed, and his reaction is exactly the same as mine.
"Cameron?" I ask, examining him up and down. He's grown even thinner than he was before, and he has one of those little fold-up bows that we have back in District 12 and a ton of arrows. I lower my bow, making myself an easy target, but I don't care. To be utter surprise, he mirrors my reaction.
"Hello, Nellie. Well done for surviving this far," he mutters, and I can't tell whether he's sarcastic or not, but I guss it's good that he's not trying to kill me right now. "Having fun?"
"Oh, yeah! I'm having the time of my life!" I reply, playing along. "Yeah. I've had no sponsor gifts, I have one arrow left and I'm sopping wet. You?" Cameron chuckles, and I can't help but smile a little. "You know, we'd live longer if we allied."
Cameron nods, and walks forward towards me. I tighten my grip on the arrow, but he just reaches to the quiver strapped onto his back and takes out five muddy arrows and passes them to me; I take them and slip the ebony backpack from my shoulders, unzip the top of it and slide the arrows in. He takes the lead, trekking through the thicket, constantly checking behind to make sure I'm following. I don't dare turn my back on him. These lot, no matter how nice they seem at first, can turn very nasty, very quickly.
Blake's POV (2)
I watch Lindsay as she polishes her knife with the edge of her shirt, and I can't help but be in awe at her. The campfire crackles yellow and orange and peach, and heat pulses off and spreads around the Cornucopia and the entire Career camp, who are either sleeping or having a little target practise. I toss my sickle at a nearby tree, and it slices a branch off then swoops straight back at me like a boomerang. I catch it with one hand, and look over to Lindsay. She's still polishing her knife. I just manage to stop groaning - what does it take to impress her? God, I know she's good, but I didn't think she was conceited.
Lindsay removes the knife from her shirt and tosses it at a nearby tree - it zooms through the air and pierces the abdomen of what looks like a lizard that was slowly climbing the branches. I give an impressed scoff, yet those gorgeous eyes don't look at me. Bored, I swing my legs over the log that I'm perched on and throw the sickle up in the air; it flies high, twisting and turning like a dancer, and I just get ready to catch it when I see one of Lindsay's knives hit it and send it flying towards the Cornucopia. I'm about to retrieve it when I feel two hands clench my shirt. Oh god, I think, she's gonna kill me. But she doesn't kill me. She pulls my closer, and I feel my lips press against hers. They're satin soft, and slightly damp.
He he he. Now I am ready to win this thing.
Taryn's POV (10)
I tear off the moist meat in chunks with my strong, pearly-white teeth, and fat and juice swims down my chin. I hastily wipe it off with my sleeve, my stomach still grumbling yet slowly getting quieter. The sky is slowly darkening for some reason, despite it being about noon. I guess they want to end something. I've got to be at least two kilometres away from the nearest tribute, so they're probably gonna send a pack of mutts after me or light everything on fire or send in a trackerjacker nest. I don't care, though. With this knife, I can do a lot. Tossing my hair from my eyes, I relax against a tree, patting my full stomach and flexing my arms, wincing a little as my muscles slowly unknot. I look around every time a tree snaps or a leaf rustles, but after a few minutes I'm sure I'm alone. But, for some reason, my belly starts rumbling again. Frowning, I rise and look round for some food. I finished that chicken off, so I go rumaging through the bushes. My nose picks up a strong, pungeant scent; I follow the smell until I reach a large bush of what looks like berries and flowers. I pluck a berry off and examine it; it's a perfect circle, and green inside. I smile - we have these back at home - and pop some in my mouth. Then I look at the flowers - they're bright orange and shaped like a heart. They look harmless, so I pluck a petal off one and eat it. It tastes like sugar, so I take a couple more.
My stomach instantly rejects this new food, and makes it clear by forcing it back up my throat and making me vomit it back up into the grass. It tastes a lot worst coming back up than it did going down, but it's only when I see specks of blood in the pile of vomit that I realize something's up. Still, I stuff some more flowers down my throat, desperate to quench my hunger, but still I keep throwing up. I collapse onto the floor, suddenly feeling terrible, clutching my throat. I choke as I feel the beat of my heart slowing down. What the heck is going on? the berries are alright, the flowers are... oh god. No wonder all the insects were avoiding them. BOOM!!
Marissa's POV (5)
I lie on the thick, gnarled branch, legs aching, trying to get comfy. It's silent, the only sounds my slow breaths and the rustling of my bag on my shoulders. Every time I move, one of my bones pop and crack, so I try and stay as still as possible.
Leaves rustle and the sound of dry, crunching vegetation emerges from nowhere; I leap up, and wince as I hear my muscles knot in my back, but just succeed in keeping my balance. My neck thrashes round, scanning the landscape for any signs of life, but it's only when I see what looks like a wolf or wild dog trotting round. I can see his ribs with ease, and it takes a few seconds for my to realize that its legs are shaking. I sigh and cautiously slide down the rough tree bark, grazing my pale skin. The wolf's ears perk up and its bronze eyes stare at me, its teeth bare themselves. I yelp and am about to dash back up the tree when I realize my left leg has gone numb, so I have no choice but to let go and fall a metre to the leaf-covered ground. My backpack opens and a squirrel I killed earlier tumbles out. The wolf stumbles over to me, its teeth yellow and dripping saliva, and sinks its fangs deep into the dead animal. In only a few seconds, all that stands is a small heap of bare bones. I smile a little as I meet the wolf's brown eyes, and plunge my hand deep into the contents of my backpack until I reach the furry second squirrel that I also took out. I flex my arm and toss the dead squirrel at the dog, and it gives a grateful bark before devouring the animal, coughing a couple times. Satisfied, I stretch my legs and rub my full stomach, when I see the dog suddenly look at me then trot over and sit beside me, it's ears perked up. I hold out my arm and the wolf lies by my side, its eyes closing; I run my fingers through its ebony fur, feeling the outline of its ribs, scratching its ears and its belly. After only a matter of minutes, its asleep, and so am I.
Lindsay's POV (2)
As I run the smooth blade through the wet blades of lengthy, jade grass, I flash my eyes up at Blake. He's tossing that sickle up and down and boomeranging it past tree branches, basically showing off. God, ever since I kissed him, he's been estatic. I don't know why; I mean, it was only for the sponsors. I heard that a pair from District 12 did it, like, ages ago and they both got out. Not that I want me and Blake to get out. I hate Blake.
The next thing my eyes wander to is Charlie. He's sitting, cross-legged on the grass, looking up at the sunset as if he was hypnotized. Ugh, that's how you get yourself killed! I think I'm the only one who's noticed how strange he's been acting; every night he watches the images of the dead tributes with intense concentration, the breaths a small but noticeable sigh of relief. It's as if he's hoping an image isn't coming up, hoping that someone hasn't died. I hope it's not that girl from his district, the one who beat me at swimming, the one who destroyed most of the dummies in the training center. Cause if it is, she's our next target.
Cameron's POV (10)
I trek across the slippy landscape, backpack seemingly weighing 100lbs, Nellie slowly following behind me. My legs are aching like mad and my arms are trembling from pure exhaustion, but I don't dare give up - someone could be tracking us down right now, and in the condition we're in, we're sitting ducks. For some reason, Nellie's been limping for the last mile, and wincing whenever she steps on a twig and trips over a stone. My limbs throbbing, I'm about to give up when I hear a thud; I watch as Nellie collapses against a thick, gnarled tree, pallid hands clasped round her ankle. I kneel down beside her, also complaining, and throw my bow from my shoulder before flexing my shoulders and listening to my bones pop and crack. Nellie just lies there, her face ashen as she tightens the grasp on her ankle bone.
"What's up?" I ask, and bat her fingers away. Then I see why she was complaining. Her ankle is swollen, crimson and bloodied, and an ugly scarlett gash spreads from her knee to the base of her injuried foot. "How the heck did you do this?"
"I think some kind of animal bit me about an hour ago - it didn't look so bad, so I didn't say anything," she says simply through gritted teeth as I prod at the wound, unsure what to do.
"Animal? Flamin' heck, Nellie, it could have had rabies!" I yell, suddenly not caring that someone could hear me.
"Oh, for god's sake, Cameron, do I look like I have rabies?" she snaps, maintaining a serious, vexed face. I roll my eyes in a full circle then look for something that could help. Nellie pushes herself up from the sopping wet grassbank and hops around, fiddling with various plants, rolling leaves in her muddy fingers. "Over here!" she calls, pointing to a large shrub with oddly-shaped, chocolate brown leaves. "They heal. Trust me, we have them in my district. They clean the wound and heal infection. I used them when I sliced my leg on a metal fence."
"Alright," I simply reply, and she lies down, her trouser leg rolled up her limb. I pluck a few leaves from the stem, run them through the moist grass to wet them then place it on one section of the cut. Nellie smiles and nods, and I do it again and again until the lower half of her left leg is plastered in brown, dripping leaves. I wrap my arm round her waist, sling both our bows over my shoulder and help her up as she balances on my leg. "Come on, it's getting dark. Let's find somewhere to sleep."
Charlie's POV (4)
The golden sun sets over the Cornucopia, and the sound of the birds singing slowly quietens down. I lie beneath the thick blanket, boiling hot, sheltered by the vast roof of the golden structure. I'm the only one awake; Lindsay's sleeping on Blake's arm, and Maxfield and Shanna are curled up together in the sleeping bag I got. Ugh, my mind is spinning circles. These guys don't need me. They already have loads of talent and skill, all I can do is toss a trident and snap a thick branch in half.
I look up at the navy sky, focusing on the blossoming stars and the pearly full moon. I think of what I can do. With the Careers, I'll surely survive into the top ten, maybe even the top five, but if I split, maybe I can save someone else. My eyes flicker towards my trident, stading tall and proud against the Cornucopia wall, with my name is fancy lettering. Who else in the arena can use a trident like me? Aylin... Aylin. All I can think of is her. Her image hasn't appeared in the sky yet, so she must be out there somewhere; is she injured? Is she bleeding to death somewhere, with her leg sliced open and her neck slit? Is she flattened out against a tree, her stomach constantly screaming, begging for food, dying a slow and obscene death? Or is she living the dream, kilometres away from anyone else, with a mountain of supplies next to her? I know that she's one of our targets. We have to find her first. I remember seeing her looking at Island Two before the bloodbath, but I don't dare tell anyone that. I'll lead them to Island Five, maybe. Anywhere away from her.
I can't sleep, no matter how much I toss and turn, so I throw the blanket from my body and slither out. I step over Maxfield and grab my trident, before hurrying out from the shelter and staring out at the stars. These lot don't need me. They can survive on my own. It's Aylin who needs me. So, taking a deep breath, I dive into the water and begin to swim.
Maxfield's POV (1)
I stir as I hear a small but audible splash outside. My eyes flicker open, and I can faintly make out the outline of Blake and Lindsay - those two haven't seperated since the 'incident' last night - and Shanna is clutching my arm so hard I'm surprised the bloodflow hasn't stemmed. Where Charlie is meant to lie, the blanket is ruffled up and the space is empty. I immediately shake my district partner from my body, grab my sword and speed out into the open night. The ripples spread out all over the was-flat surface; I can just make out a tall figure speedily swimming away into the distance.
"Charlie, you traitor!" I scream, and it wakes up everyone. "Shanna, shoot him!" I grab the quiver of arrows and longbow and toss them hurridly at Shanna, who catches them with a struggle, places a gleaming arrow on the string and fires it at the silhouette - Charlie ducks out of the way just before the spike touches his arm. She scowls and shoots another dart, but it skims past his waist. I halt her from firing another one, and yell, "We're gonna kill you, Charlie! You're a traitor! And I don't like traitors!" His arms speed up and he propells himself through the waves at a crazy pace. How does he do that? I don't care. I'm going to get him, and I'm going to give the audience a good show.
Aylin's POV (4)
I've been alive for four days. How the hell have I done that? My teeth sink down into the soft apple, the juices warm and sticky and running down my chin. My legs entwined round the thin branch I'm perched on, my back muscles knotted from the awkward position I'm lay in; and there's only one thing I can think of.
I rumage through my backpack and find it empty of food, so I place my foot on an outsticking branch and slowly descend down the bark, yet when I put all my weight onto a small stump, my boot slips and I go crashing a good couple metres down to the floor. A little dazed, I shuffle about on the damp floor, leaves weaven through my entangled hair and dirt covering my pale, grazed face until I manage to push myself up onto my feet. Various twigs snapping underfoot, I hastily retrieve my bag, haul in onto my back and force my left foot across the floor. It begins to tremble to moment I put weight onto it. Ugh, why am I so weak all of a sudden? Yesterday I could take someone down and torture them to death. Now it's the opposite. A twelve-year-old could push my over and kill me with my own knife right now; I haven't got any injuries, my stomach's full and I've got lots of weapons. Tucking my trident under my arm, I manage to force myself about fifty metres before my legs finally give way and I flatten out against a thin birch tree. There's no way I can climb this tree - it's far too weak, a bit like me.
My ears prick up when I hear what I know is footsteps, and I take a deep breath. My pallid fingers enclapsing my curved blade, my feet drag themselves forward, but not for long. I only get a couple seconds to see the large mace hurtling towards me.
I yelp, and duck, but not in time; the sleek club crashes into my shoulder and forces me down onto the damp grass. I see a figure emerging from the bushes, her flaming-red hair falling in messy waves down her perfectly-scupltured face, her fists clenched. My hands fumble, searching for my trident, when I realize the truth. It's back at that tree, for anyone to find. My vision blurry, I draw the blade from my belt, yet the red-head beauty swips it from my hand, and suddenly she's towering over me. I muster up my strength and punch her in the stomach - she scowls, but doesn't dare double over. Her clenched fist pummels me in my left eye, and through the sudden darkness, I draw my blade and stab it into what I think is her stomach; she shouts, and her huge eyes flash downwards to the wound that drips scarlett blood. She removes the acute blade from her belly and attempts to drive the blade into my forehead. She misses, but takes a large chunk of my golden-brown locks with her. I spit a large amount of saliva at her face, and she growls. "Right, if you're gonna be like that, I'll make it painful," she yowls, and sinks the knife inside my inner arm. A scream escapes my lips, and it echoes round the forest. After a few minutes of pain, I give up and sit there, waiting to die.
Charlie's POV (4)
As I run through the forest, legs throbbing, chest hurting, I know I will find her. I can see the Cornucopia island vaugely in the distance, and I know that they are baying for my blood. "Aylin!" I scream her name, praying for a reply. "Aylin! Aylin, where are you?" Still no reply. All I can hear is the soft tweeting of the birds, the whistling of the breeze running through the rain-covered leaves. My hair dripping from the downpour a few minutes ago, I'm about to scale a tree when my feet stumble over what I suspect is a log, but when I look down, it's not a log. A long, elegant, sterling trident lies amongst the lengthy grass, with a name enscribed on, just like mine. I bend down, cup the handle in my fingers and examine the name. It's Aylin's.
As my heart leaps, I run my fingers over the metal; it's dry. Which means that it was dropped after the downpour. And that downpour ended only five minutes. She stood here, and left her trident amongst the grass for anyone to find. I'm just about to sit down and make camp when I hear it. A loud, piercing scream emerging only a few metres away from where I am. And I know who it is.
"Aylin!" I screech until my throat is red raw; my hands tear at the bushes and shrubs that block my path until I have cuspate twigs buried within my flesh. I find myself in a clearing, and everything seems peaceful, but then I see the rather large blood stains on the ground. My head whips round, and I catch sight of something that makes me fuel with rage.
There's Aylin, her hair scattered around her face, trying to shove the figure that is bringing a knife down on her inner arm. "No!" I scream, and the figure looks up. She's tall and thin, but then I find out that she's strong. Especiallly when her long, gaunt fingers grab a glossy mace that lies beside her and tosses it at me. I duck, watching it skim past my face, and almost strain my arm as I hurtle the trident towards her. The middle spike buries itself in her long, exposed throat, and the red-head gives a slight cough before slowly sinking to the ground. BOOM!! Diverting my eyes from the body, I race over to my district partner. She's barely conscious, her eyes about to close, then she sees me.
"H...hi," she whispers, hopefully glad to see me. "Good t...timing." I smile, and examine the wound on her arm. It's small, but deep, and dangerously close to the main artery. Panicking slightly, I tip the contents of my backpack onto the floor and pull out a thin cotton bandage that I stole from Lindsay last night; it covers the cut, but blood leaks out at an unstoppable pace and spreads across the material. "Charlie," she whispers weakly, and I look up. "Thank you for finding me."
Dani's POV (3)
I slip the backpack from my shoulders, the pack suddenly seemingly weighing 100lb despite it being almost empty, and toss it down on the floor. I untie the rope that straps my mace to my back and shove it in the sleeping bag, relieved, and slump down against an untidy shrub. Twigs weave themselves into my short hair but I don't mind; I'm aching all over, and my stomach is beginning to call for food. I want to be fully prepared for an attack, so I pull my bag onto my lap and rumage through the few items, and there's nothing edible in there. Crap. I need to mute the pain, so I grab my mace and, making sure I don't step on any twigs or rustle any leaves, creep round for any food.
Tip tap... tip tap... tip tap... I hear what I think are faint footsteps tapping across the landscape. Weapon at the ready, I charge through the branches and, probably straining my shoulder blade, toss the slick wooden club in the direction of the noise. When I finally get a glimpse of what I've taken out, I'm relieved. A small fox lies beneath the leaf-caked floor, its ginger fur moving slightly in the wind, its eyes wide open and glazed. A trickle of blood runs from its temple, and the soft skin slowly dyes itself crimson.
"Dinner!" I hiss to myself, and look around for something I can slit the skin with. All I have is a mace with nothing sharp on it whatsoever; all I can find is lots of twigs, a blunt stone, a piece of slate, a tuft of growing chives... a piece of slate! Perfect! I entangle the tile in my fingers, running my fingertips over the smooth surface, examining the dangerously-sharp edge. Satisfied, I place the blade-like stone to the corpse's flesh and drag it across; it creates a perfect slit and blood leaks out at a crazy pace. Biting the inside of my cheek, I pick out the bloodied bones and the tendons and organs until there's just a pile of raw meat in front of me. God, this stuff is gonna ruin my backpack.
Beep... beep... beep... I recognize the noise and look up to see a large metal sphere floating down. Huh. I shouldn't have bothered.
Nellie's POV (12)
I limp across the terrain, pain shooting through my leg, tracing my bones and attacking my muscles. Cameron must be in agony too, having to support me for the last day, but he doesn't give up. He's the perfect ally.
"Can we take a rest? My leg's hurting again," I inquire, and Cameron slowly lowers me down onto the grassy bank. I roll up my trouser leg to reveal my leaf covered limb, and slowly peel off the maroon plants to examine my wound. My jaw drops, and it isn't in delight. The cut is clear and brilliant red - it doesn't look so bad - but the flesh surrounding the slit is bumpy, as if stones have slid underneath the skin. I run my fingers over the bumps and it sends shivers down my spine.
"Are you sure they were the right leaves?" asks my ally, running his own fingers over the wound.
"Yeah, I'm positive," I say in shock, proding at the injury. It looks like I have severe acne on my ankle. Has some kind of venom from the animal caused this? Do I actually have rabies? No, I can't have.
Beep... beep... beep... I hear a shrill noise and immediately clamp my hands over my sensitive ears. Cameron rises and disappears with speed into the shrubs; he returns clutching two colossal packages, and dumps them on the floor before he reaches me. Fingers trembling, he picks at the knots of the thick coil until they release, and a large amount of supplies tumble out. Firstly, an elegant bronze bow and a leather quiver of about ten arrows, all with my name in fancy writing on them; a rather large water container and a perfectly square plastic box with a red cross on.
Cameron opens the other package with visible excitment, and the box cracks open. Five large axes, also with his name enscribed on; several fruits enwrapped in orange fabric, and a water container identical to mine roll around and spread out across the land.
I look up at the sky, close my eyes and whisper, "Thank you."
Shanna's POV (1)
As I send an arrowhead shooting at a lone squirrel that slowly hopped across the cool surface of the Cornucopia, I scan the seas for any signs of 'the traitor' (I don't dare say his name). Ugh, I'll get my hands on him one day, and I'll give him a slow, painful and agonizing death. And I'll enjoy it.
The sun beats down on me and the other Careers, the sweltering heat forcing sweat to bead up on my smooth forehead. For some reason, the heat makes me tired, and my vision constantly blurs as if I'd just awoken from a long slumber. My feet stumbling across the island, I fire an arrow at what is definently a lizard ascending up a tree and miss, and it arches into the waves.
"What's up with you?" I hear Maxfield's deep, base voice ask. I turn towards him, a sleek arrow clipped onto the bow string, ready for any action.
"I don't know, I just... I feel weird. It's like I'm... tired all the time." I say, my voice weak and chesty for some reason. Can the Gamemakers release some kind of gas that knocks you out and makes you an easy target? God, if I were alone, I'd be such an easy target right now.
"Maybe you should go and take a nap. I'll stay on guard," he says, and I don't dare reject that offer. I stumble into the shelter of the aurulent structure, thankful for the shade I'm standing in, and dump my weapons on the floor before falling to the floor. Stretching out on the cool, moist grass bank, I wipe the sweat from my face with my sleeve and roll onto my front. I grab a blanket and cover my whole body, the world now as black as night, trying to block the sound of the others running round, target practising. A cough building up in my throat, I rip the quilt from my body and force myself to vomit. I feel terrible. Maxfield kneels down beside me and gives me what looks like a wet towel - I smile, place the material on my slippy forehead and relax.
Michael's POV (3)
I look up at the colbalt sky, and I just see, beneath the silver clouds and argent, canary sun, a body being lifted into the air by a bulky coil. Her bittersweet hair falls down her bruised face, and she has a giant, perfectly-circular hole right in the middle of her neck that must have been made by a trident or spear. She's beautiful, even though her flesh is soaked in probably still-warm blood. It takes a while for me to shake the image from my mind. I'd never seen any dead bodies - human or animal - before this competition, and now they're everywhere I go. Please, please, can I just go? Please? Can I please just wake up, as this all must be a dream. Can I just pinch myself and end up sat in bed, sweating, trying to forget the nightmare I'd just dreamt. My finger rub up my arm and I pinch a small fold of skin; it hurts. I blink back the sudden pool of tears that invades my tired eyes - I can't cry. If I do, I'll be portrayed as weak and lose my sponsors, which is the least helpful thing that could happen right now.
Twisting my neck to click the bones, I untie the rope that straps my waist to the tree and jump down from the low branch, landing on my side. As leaves stick to my ebony hair, I retrieve my backpack and nestle against the tree, fighting the urge to cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't c...
I can't hold it anymore. Lakes of hot, salty tears swim down my rosy cheeks, and I don't raise my hand to stem the flow. They fall down my face at a slowly increasing pace, and the gentle breeze slowly dries them before they drip from my chin. Why? Why do I have to be here? WHY? Why did the Hunger Games have to be created? WHY? WHY? WHY?
"WHY?!" I scream out loud before I can stop myself. It echoes off the trees and bounces off and around the shrubs. Followed by a shrill scream of any animals within a 15-meter radius, I scrunch into a tight ball, waiting for someone to race through the bushes with their weapons poised to throw, but nothing happens. The area surrounding me is silent. Silent. Silent.
It takes a few minutes for me to realize that tears are still pouring down my face like two mini waterfalls. I drag my sleeve across my eyes and wait. I want to go home. I want to go home. Maybe if I think it enough, it'll happen. I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go... home...
Beep... beep... beep... A light clunk on the head distracts me from my misery. A metal sphere sits in my lap, a thin cotton parachute hanging limp from the shape. The corners of my mouth twisting upwards, I grab my mace and smash the ball open, and a bag of various fruits, bunched together in a green net, tumble out onto the floor. I'm about to take a large bite into an apple but then I stop. Why did they send me a gift right after I started crying? They must think that I need this. They must think I'm weak. And I'm not weak. I'll show them I'm not weak. I finish the apple, pack an orange and the two bananas into my backpack then toss the remaining food into the bushes. I can survive without help. Without anyone's help.
Blake's POV (2)
I drag my palm across my forehead, smudging the thick sheen of sweat that coats my body. My sickle slips through my fingers and I don't attempt to retrieve it; the sun is so bright and large, I can feel the blazing rays poisoning my pallid skin.
"Blimey, not you, too?" Maxfield steps in front of me, his thin, mis-shapen eyebrows raised, and swoops down to grab my sickle. He stuffs the weapon into my hand then points towards the Cornucopia. I can just see Shanna tucked up in several blankets, gripping her bow, muttering in her slumber. The shade beckons me towards the cool patches of the grass, yet I resist it. "Shanna's been acting up as well. She just collapsed and started sweating like crazy."
"It must be the sun. The Gamemakers have sent the temperature shooting up," I say, and drag myself over to a tree that stands rooted to the ground in the middle of the island, just next to the Corucopia. The sun is set perfect in the middle of the cloudless sky, and stares at me with it's large, orange eyes. Such a piercing stare.
"Ugh, were we unknowingly attacked by a load of trackerjackers last night?" I ask, rubbing my bloodshot eyes with my sweaty hand, and look over for Lindsay. I finally catch her, perched up in the tree I'm leaning against, tossing knives up and down, constantly slitting her hand but not showing any reaction to her wounds. Her deep-brown curls sit on top of her head in a tangled mess, her eyes dull, her face blank and expressionless. Huh. Everyone's miserable today.
McKynleigh's POV (11)
The sun beats rhythmically in the sky, lighting my path through the dense woodland. The piercing rays break through the thick, twisted branches, scattering the harsh light around the floor. I swallow another huge mouthful of saliva as an attempt to moisten my parched, red throat, yet the river runs dry before it reaches the back of my gullet. God, I'm so thirsty. My water container is full of dirt, not liquid, and the smooth metal is boiling for me to touch; my hand is already covered on small but painful blisters. The Gamemakers are definentely trying to burn us or dehydrate us to death - it's only day 4! Give us a rest! Please!
As I lean against a tree, I mop the dripping sweat from my forehead up with my sleeve and shrug off my jacket, but it doesn't help. It just makes my body temperature rise about ten degrees. Oh jeez. Please, send some mutts and make me fall head first into a river - I just want a drink! I can't drink the water surrounding the island - it's salt water.
"Please, please! Send me some water!" I call to my mentor, hoping my voice is heard, but ten minutes later, no sphere is descending from the sky. "God, would it kill you to send me something? You're taking the pi.." I remember what my mentor said about trying not to use bad language. "...you're having a laugh, aren't you?" Nothing. No eardrum-wrecking beeping emerges from the bushes. Nothing.
I twirl my sickle around in my slim, bony fingers, trying to think what to do. I could go to the Cornucopia and try and nick the Careers' supplies...no, I'd get killed. I could go and stalk another tribute and kill them and nick their supplies...nope, I'd get killed. I could drink salt water...nope, I'd get killed.
I can't survive unless my mentor coughs up.
Maxfield's POV (1)
I look around at my dull, limp crew, and I know we could be killed at any minute. A crew of Mutts could come storming through the bushes, mayonnaise-yellow, razor-sharp fangs bared, ebony fur slicked back with the wind, and they could eat us up and we wouldn't put up much of a fight. Blake and Lindsay are perched up in a thin, weak tree, and Shanna is still feeling rotten.
I wander over to my district partner, a soaked towel caccooned in my hands, sweat trickling down my leathery skin. Shanna's eyes slightly flicker as she sees me approaching, and the corners of her dried lips twist upwards in a feeble attempt at a smile. I hand her the soaked cloth, and she smacks it on her forehead, the drips swimming down her face, looking like tears.
"Jeez, I feel terrible," she mutters, her blonde hair tangled and bedraggled, her anemic face grubby and sullied.
"So do the others," I say, kneeling beside her, fiddling with her hair. "Blake and Lindsay look like zombies."
"How come you're alright?" she inquires, rolling onto her side to face me. The water from the towel runs down her cheekbones, and it really does look like she's crying her eyes out.
"I don't know." It's all I can say. It's the only way to explain it. Her twinkling, aquamarine eyes gaze into mine for about a minute, before rolling onto her other side to face away from me. I lie down next to her, keeping my eyes on her, hoping that I don't fall asleep and awake to find her dead.
Aylin's POV (4)
My tired eyes flicker open, and I squint as the harsh light almost blinds me. The singing of the birds seems twice as loud, and it rings in my sensitive ears like a bell where my brain should be, clattering against my battered skull as it gongs. A smooth, soft fingers brushes against my cut cheek, and I whip my head round to see him. The boy from the Careers. My district partner. The one who saved me.
"Hey, be careful," he hushes, and I look around at my surroundings. I'm up, rather high, in a rugged, stout tree, and an agonizing pain shoots through my arm the moment I move it. I let out a quiet cry as I listen to my bones repeatedly click into unnatural positions. "Your arm broke when she tossed that mace at you."
"I don't care how many bones are broken," I manage to cough out, wincing in agony. "Have you been sent anything by Samantha? Any decent mentor would send us at least some painkillers." Charlie simply shakes his head, his face expressionless.
Beep... beep... beep... I hear the harsh, ear-splitting noise, and it aches more than the sound of the birds, but I know that it's good news.
"Speak of the devil," mutters Charlie, his face still straight and seemingly annoyed, and leaps out of the tree onto the leaf-caked, soil ground. I can see a thin, cream parachute nestling in a shrub nearby. The boy's lengthy, pallid arms pluck the leaves from the package and unexpectedly tosses it up at me; I catch it with one hand and place it gently in my lap. Charlie ascends up the bark and sits next to me where the branch forks in two, and rips the sphere open with his bare hands. A small plastic container, decorated with several red crosses, clicks open and reveals a whole collection of medical supplies - bandages, pills, syringes and a green jelly-like substance in a tiny, clear pot. Before I can smile, Charlie scoops up a fresh, clean bandage and slowly wraps it around my fractured arm whilst I wince constantly, then he grabs a sterile syringe full of yellow liquid and sinks it into my arm as I let out a yell at the sudden jab.
"It sets broken bones," his voice speaks, and I nod, trusting him. Today's gonna be a long day.
Shanna's POV (1)
When I awake, I instantly know it's afternoon. The sun sits in the baby-pink sky, dimmer than yesterday, my allies' shadows smaller and thicker. Everyone definently seems more cheerful; a crackling campfire burns in front of the Cornucopia, the embers and sparks dancing, the flames entwining and reaching towards the clouds. Maxfield and Blake sit on rotting logs, polishing their weapons and poking the acute points of their swords and sickles into the fire and drawing them out glowing red. Lindsay is scaling up a gargantuan tree, hand enclasping a blade, her eyes scanning the other islands, looking for tributes. I sit up, aching a little, and push the thick blanket from my clothed body whilst re-activating all my muscles.
I push myself up onto my feet and stumble towards the burning twigs, hypnotized by the blaze. Sticks snap under my feet as I sit next to Maxfield on the grassy bank.
"You feeling better?" he asks, and I nod. Satisfied, he resumes his conversation with Blake. I still watch the campfire, the cantaloupe flares swiftly releasing small billows of smoke that rise high into the coral-colored sky. I probably look like a dead body right now - limp, eyes glazed over, fixed on a fire. I wonder if they actually care about me, especially Maxfield. Do they want me to survive, or are they waiting for the right moment to drive a knife through my throat?
Ugh, no. I think my illness has just made me paranoid. Maxfield cares about me - he wouldn't dare kill me. I'm sure he'd avenge my death. It's just the fact that I'm going to have to kill him sooner or later - I'm going to have to kill all of these. And I don't think I can do that. I just...don't.
"Why is it getting so dark?" I hear Lindsay's sweet, musical voice jingle in my ears. "I mean, it's only mid-afternoon."
"Something must be happening tomorrow. They're trying to hurry the day up," replies Blake, breathing on his sickle and rubbing it on his forest-green t-shirt. "Any guesses?"
"I dunno," says Lindsay, shrugging. "They'll probably release a pack of Mutts or a million TrackerJacker nests into the arena. These Gamemakers do have some brilliant imaginations." So true, Lindsay. So true...
Lindsay's POV (2)
I twitch at the feeling of the moist, flesh-textured leaves brushing against my cheeks. The sharp twigs slit my skin in many places, yet I don't feel the sting. The sky slowly blends from baby pink to sapphire blue, and the wax-white starts gradually appear. Beyond the horizon, a giant, pearly grey moon begins to rise, lighting up the whole arena.
The arena is so beautiful at night. I'm stuck on guard, yet I enjoy protecting the island, because I get to experience the magic of the night, when there is no blood or killing or violence. Everything is peaceful.
The mockingjays belt out a soulful tune, and it sounds just like the lullaby my mother used to sing when I was little. I have to fight the fatigue that's invading my drooping eyelids; I'm just about to drop off when I hear a strange noise in the sky.
"Attention! Attention, tributes!" A deep, static voice emerges from nowhere. "There will be a feast tomorrow, at noon, at the Cornucopia. There will be another announcment tomorrow morning. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
Day 6 (The Feast) !
Charlie's POV (4)
I look down at my district partner's pale, battered face, and realize that I'm not trying to save her just for her benifit. My fingers gently stroke her ginger hair and trace her cheekbones, but when her eyes begin to open, I zip my hands away as fast as I can.
"Ugh...what time is it?" she asks, and her left hand instantly goes to check her broken arm whilst her other cleans the dirt from her ashen face.
"Erm, almost noon." I reply, trying to keep my answers short and snappy. I stare into her eyes, unable to draw them away.
"Attention, tributes. There will be a feast at noon, at the Cornucopia. This is the second annoucement, and will be the last. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
"Are we going?" Aylin's bland, boring voice makes me jump, and I turn my head. Our backpacks are almost empty, and we're both hungry.
I give a curt nod, and we leap down to the floor, ready for the battle about to commence.
Nellie's POV (12)
My ears settle as the announcment booms throughout the woods, bouncing off shrubs and echoing off trees. Cameron nestles his head on my shoulder, his glasses hanging off one ear, fiddling with a thick coil of rope, picking at the oakum. He shows no reaction to the possibility of us getting more supplies, getting the chance to live another day, and I don't want to prompt him. I shouldn't have to.
"Are we going to the feast?" his deep yet sweet voice asks me, and I smother my smile before it rises to my lips. "We need food."
"The Careers are camping at the Cornucopia, so we've got a big chance of getting killed. I mean, five highly trained killers against two young archers?" I tell him, my arm wrapped round his shoulder. His ginger hair tickles my face as his head rises to look at mine, his nose a few inches away from mine.
"I like those odds," he grins smugly, and I can't help but mirror his actions. I tumble as I scoop up my backpack with one arm, grieving its fullness, and trek across the terrain until I reach the coast. Patting my injured leg, I feebly dive into the waves and kick my legs until they feel like rags. I can see the island in the distance, looming big and ominous, shadowing us both. When I finally reach the edge of the island, I catch my breath and shake the drips from my hair.
There lies the Cornucopia, large and beautiful, gleaming in the sunlight. I look around for the supplies, hoping the Gamemakers didn't lie to draw us together, then I see them. Large black bags, tightened by drawstrings, all different sizes, some almost empty and some buldging at the edges. They are rather well camoflauged, and I'm about to leg it and grab the nearest one, when I hear a twig snap. My eyes zip up to the burnished structure, and I can see a flash of blonde hair. Ugh. It looked too good to be true.
I draw an arrow and place it on the bow string, then pull the spike back, aiming to where I saw the golden locks. The sound of metal grinding against metal causes a finger to trace down my spine, yet I keep my aim steady. One. Two. Three. I let go, and the sagittal point zoom through the air. It hits the golden structure and misses the figure I know I saw.
Blake's POV (2)
"Shanna, duck!" I hiss at my ally, and she swoops down as a golden arrow cuts through the atmosphere and pierces a nearby tree. My shoes slip on the burnished structure as I try and keep my balance, hidden by the massive Cornucopia, ready to attack. My fingers grip the sickle, prepared to throw, ready to kill.
A silhouette pushes itself up onto the island and runs towards a large drawstring bag, a bow slung over its shoulder, aimed to shoot. A shuffle beside me grabs my attention, and I see Shanna clipping an arrow onto the string of her bow and aiming it at the figure. She lets go, and the dart leaps down at the contour; the figure ducks - close call! - and she reaches the bag, straps it onto her back and begins to run away.
"Shanna, no!" I almost cry, yet she doesn't listen. Shanna leaps down onto to the floor, landing perfectly on the balls of her feet, and races after the stray tribute. The figure steps into the light, and I see it's the girl from District 12 - the best archer in the arena. "No! You'll get killed!" My head turns to my other ally. "Maxfield, stop her!" I watch, helpless, as Shanna fires another shaft at the girl, and misses by a few centimetres. The girl grabs Shanna by her hair, and tosses her to the floor, yet my ally doesn't give up. Now I know what my mum meant about when girls fight, they really go for it. The District 12 girl shoves down Shanna and grabs an arrow, yet Shanna knocks it out of her hand, dragging her nails down her victim's arms. The girl screams, and stamps down on Shanna's stomach before legging it once more. Shanna, using her second-to-last arrow, sends the projectile at the girl, and it slits her back, resulting in a river of bright crimson blood leaking down the girls ashen skin. Shanna's battle cry hurts my ears, but then I see what I least expected.
The girl from 12 getting a perfect bullseye at Shanna's pulsing heart. BOOM!!
Lindsay's POV (2)
"Shanna!" I scream, and leap down from the tree I'm stuck in. The grass is wet and slippy, yet it doesn't bother me. The girl who just murdered by ally dives into the water, one of the bags slung over her gaunt shoulder, and I hurl a bronze dagger at the killer; it skids across her shoulder blade, cutting the flesh yet again, causing blood to spurt out at an unstoppable pace. Leaves rustle behind me, and I just see the ginger hair of the girl from District 4 racing, enclapsing her nails round several bags and diving into the water before I can even react. She's a good ten metres in front in just a few seconds, so I don't dare dive in, because she's probably drown me.
"Shanna!" Maxfield's deep, country voice begs, and he kneels down beside his district partner's side, gripping her lifeless, bloody hand. "Please, wake up, please!" His battered claws embrace the arrow and, with a small struggle, he draws the point from her dead, stiff corpse. "You're not dead, just please wake up!" I never thought he was one to cry. Me neither. I can't help one hot, salty tear rolling down my cheek. Ugh, Lindsay, what are you doing? I swiftly wipe my face before the cameras catch hold of it. I can't look weak, no matter what happens.
Maxfield rises, a truly terrifying look plastered upon his face, and he starts to storm over in the direction Shanna's killer swam off. Before he reaches the coast, I grab his arm. "Max, leave it. Just leave it." He looks down at me, bitter, then shakes his brawny bicep free and runs under the Cornucopia, hiding his tear-stained face. Wow. I guess he really liked her.
McKynleigh's POV (11)
I sit, hidden by a collection of shrubs and plants, waiting for the right moment to go and grab a bag from the Cornucopia. The Career gang are hanging round, blades and swords and brass knuckles drawn, ready for any attacks. What do I do? I need some supplies - my stomach is crying out in protest at its emptiness. My sickle is sharp and dangerous, its blade acute and barbed. Three... two... one.
I race for a lonely backpack, the drawstring loose. I'm almost there - I can get there without distracting them! It's just when I feel the rough, wrinkled fabric beneath my sensitive fingertips, that my left foot slips on the moist turf and land with a loud thud on my back. Ache shooting through my body, I can't help but let out a cry. I know it's a mistake, so I struggle to push myself back up onto my trembling legs and run, but when I feel a sharp, excruciating stab in my lower back; I immediately fall, screeching in pain, when I feel two strong hands flip me onto my front. I'm met with the angry but beautiful face of the girl from District 2. All I can do is beg for life as she drags the bloody blade across my throat. As blood pours out, I finally relax and wait for death as the world turns black. BOOM!!
Cameron's POV (10)
I drag myself onto the island, spluttering vile salt water from my mouth, coughing and throwing up until my body is free from all the parasites the ocean holds. I violently shake my head, spreading the water all around, before going back to assist my ally. She's lying on the floor, fighting to stay conscious, bleeding rather badly. I wrap my brusied arm around her slim waist and, in pain myself, limp towards the nearest tree I can find.
"Did you kill anyone?" I ask, and she gives a brief nod before dumping the bag she collected at the Feast on the floor. I immediately tug the drawstring and the kit opens; my hand plunges into the pile of supplies and I draw out random items and place them on the floor. A bag of fruit; another fold-up bow; three bronze knives; a whole cooked chicken; four throwing darts; a small axe; a small pot of lamb and plum stew (my favorite!) and finally, a sterile, cotton bandage.
I grab the bandage and the first aid kit our sponsor sent us, and sit next to Nellie, who's rolling the back of her shirt up to reveal a hideous injury. I grab some band-aids from the aid kit and plaster them to the cut, covering the swelling and stemming the blood flow a little. "Go on, go to sleep. I'll keep guard."
Maxfield's POV (1)
I lean against the golden Cornucopia, hidden away from the cameras. I don't want them to know I've been crying. Shanna's bow and quiver of bloodstained arrows lie in my lap - I managed to save them from the hovercraft - and it takes a while to digest that she actually held these in her silky hands. I'm a terrible archer, but I clip an arrow onto the string, pull it back and fire it at an apple that sits peacefully on a crate. It skids across the rosy red surface, taking out a large chunk and pinning it to Shanna's old backpack.
Ugh, why do I miss her so much? I would have had to kill her sooner or later - they're not gonna let two winners this year. I remember the face of the girl who killed her; she looked shocked, as if she wasn't expecting that arrow to hit, but it did. And I wish it didn't.
I'll find the girl that killed my girl. And I'll make her suffer. I wonder if she's fallen for somebody. I definently saw her with another boy; was it her ally or her 'boyfriend'? I don't care. I'll make her suffer, and I'll enjoy it. I'll enjoy it. I'll enjoy it.
Dani's POV (3)
As I relax against a tree, my stomach grumbles. Ugh, I wish I'd gone to the Feast now (I finished the fox and the food I got ages ago) - I heard two cannons, and I know that the girl from 1 and the girl from 11 got brutally killed. I really thought the girl from 1 would win. She's strong, beautiful and can get tons of bullseyes in a row. Then I saw who killed her. Nellie, the girl from 12, is the best archer in the arena.
The leaves from the shaggy, mis-shapen shrub to the left of me rustle and shake, and my ears pick up the unmistakeable sound of footprints slowly plodding along a leafy, twig-covered ground. My hands clench around my mace, the handle wet so my grip slips occasionally but I don't care. The footsteps get louder and faster, and I'm on my feet now, ready for battle, when a tiny silhouette emerges from the woodland. Small and shaking, what looks like a wild dog trots over to me, its teeth bared in what looks like a small smile. It stumbles over to me, obviously not used to its lengthy legs, and collapses across my lap. I stare, blank-eyed, and drag my hand across the dog's short-furred back. My pale eyes catch a clean-shaven spot, and the word 'Marissa' is shaved onto the back of the wolf's hind leg in neat, small writing. I remember one of the girls being called Marissa - she died ages ago.
As my stomach cries out, begging for food, I suck in my belly and close my eyes. It's hard to sleep with the agonizing pain killing my empty tummy. The wolf snores are quiet and rythmic, and it calms me, so I finally fall asleep. And in my dreams, I grow thinner and thinner, and finally I die of hunger. And I must have. Because I don't ever wake up. BOOM!!
Michael's POV (3)
As my eyes trace the sun slowly sinking beneath the huge, clifftop island, I sink my teeth into a soft apple, the juice rippling down my face and dripping off the tip of my chin. Pearls shine in the sky, lighting the area, bathing me, and the tree I'm strapped to, in cold, pale light. A high-shrilled noise rings in my ears and the light of the moon suddenly turns bright blue, and my eyes flicker up to the sky to see the hollogram shining down on my face.
The first image shines down, and I'm greeted by the beautiful face of the girl from 1. I'm surprised - I thought she would make it so far. Then the girl from 11; I never really knew her, so I guess I have no opinions.
Ugh, what am I doing? I know I'm not going to win. Look at all these amazingly talented tributes who can take someone like me down in an instant.
No, I can't be a pessimist, even though the odds are most certainly not in my favor.
As the sun languidly creeps over the horizon, I open my backpack and shove all my supplies in there - it's time to switch location. I descend down the contorted tree bark, trying not to scrape my vulnerable flesh, and land with a silent step on the grass. My eyes scan the surrounding area - no other indications of human life; satisfied that the area is safe, I take a step into the forest.
And that's when it all goes pear-shaped.
There are four of them. Four. Each a dark silhouette against the milky sun, yet the intricate details of their glowing eyes and tangled fur and saliva-dripping razor-sharp fingers stand out like white against black. Suddenly, in just a few seconds, I'm locked in the gaze of eight sparkling, butterscotch-colored irises; I'm a target.
I turn on my heel and flee, my heart pounding rapidly, listening to their stampede just a few metres behind me. The thicket around me becomes weaker as I race, and soon I find myself teetering on the edge of the island, four savages closing in on me.
The water envelopes me as I dive into the ocean, salt water invading my mouth and nose, making me splutter and gag as my lungs protest against the lack of oxygen they're recieving. But my heart races increases more when I hear them behind me, swimming like pros - swimming faster than me.
I know I was never going to win this, my mind finally thinks as a row of gleaming teeth grap my ankle and pull me under. BOOM!!
Lindsay's POV (2)
The Hunger Games is getting boring now - there have been barely any deaths around our camp, and our only real drama was Shanna getting killed; Maxfield has disappeared, most likely searching for the girl who killed his love. But the one person who's really been getting on my wick is Blake.
Hasn't he taken the hint that I absolutely despise him? Doesn't he feel me gagging when I kiss him, or recoiling when he embraces me? Surely he knows that I'm taken back at home - then again, he always has been jealous of me and Anthony. I've seen him watching me when I walk home from Career training, stalking me, and it really creeps me out.
I've thought about tossing a knife at him in training and saying it was an accident, but there's no way the jury would fall for that story.
My pale eyes flicker over to my 'boyfriend' (gag) who's perched up in a tree, fiddling with a skinny cord of rope, tying and knotting it in elaborate patterns. He's shirtless, his skin reddening in the pulsing heat, proudly showing off his rather-impressive six-pack. His head turns to look at me, and I turn my face away, but not fast enough, and he's catches me staring.
"Hey, beautiful," I hear him whisper as he approaches me from behind - his fingers tuck a loose strand of my ebony curls behind my ear and he gently kisses my neck.
"Hi," I say in the most convincing voice I can muster. "Having fun?"
"I am now I'm with you," he whispers seductively, his kisses trailing to my shoulder. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing he'd stop. I spin round in his arms to face him, and reluctantly place a firm kiss upon his dry lips. When I go to pull away, he yanks me back, refusing to let go. Great, I can see where this is going, I think as he picks me up and enwraps my slender legs round his waist. Now's the perfect time.
As he kisses my neck, I unviel the machete knife I had hidden under my shirt this entire time. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. I never loved you. I will never love you. And now I'm putting you out of your misery. One down. Then I plundge the knife into his back.
His kisses abruptly halt, and I hear him cough, then he slowly sinks into a crumpled heap on the floor; his eyes glazed open, a trail of blood swimming from his mouth. BOOM!! And there's the satisfying sound of a cannon.
Charlie's POV (3)
The sun sits high in the cloudless sky, targeting me and my ally, possessing a desire to burn or dehydrate us. I lie shirtless on the ground, toying with an empty water bottle which was in the bag Aylin collected at the feast.
Aylin. She's sleeping now, curled up on a bulky tree branch in a thick blanket, snoring silently. She looks even more beautiful wehn she sleeps, if that's even possible. Jeez, I need to tell her that I like her; I'm surprised she hasn't figured it out yet, I've been that obvious. She's everything a guy could want - gorgeous, active, skilled, intelligent - but to me, she's more.
I remember her being outside the Career training building when I left after a day's session. She'd always be there, on the bank of the silky pond, often skimming stones or tattooing herself with squid ink. I never managed to muster up the courage to speak to her, or even say hello.
My ally stirs on the tree branch and I automatically run over to the tree. She lifts her head from the blanket, shakes her entangled hair and rubs her tired eyes.
"What time is it?" she groans, her eyes adjusting to the sudden light.
"It's almost noon - you were tired," I chuckle, and my arm curls around the branch, yanking my figure up to the branch she's lying on. "There's been two cannons. I've got no idea who there were."
"From what you've told me about the Career camp, I bet Lindsay's eventually got tired of Blake. Or the other way round," she states, before swinging her legs round to stretch her knotted muscles. "Anyone nearby?"
"No, we're isolated," I reply. "I did a perimiter run of the island earlier - I think we're the only ones on here."
"You did a perimiter run?!" she snaps, sudden anger embeddeed in her tone. "You idiot! You could have been killed!"
"There's no one here!"
"I don't care! I woke up ages ago and you were gone - it scared the crap out of me! I was worried about you!" she groans, before exaggeratingly rolling her eyes and snuggling back under the blanket, swiflty falling back into a deep sleep. Ugh, I hate scaring her like that! I guess I need to sort my act out soon.
Maxfield's POV (1)
The hatred I feel for her. That bony, ebony-haired, freckled girl from the poorest district, armed with only a fold-up bow and a couple of arrows. That... that b!tch killed Shannah. How I want to get my revenge - I'm not going to feel satisfied until my arms are soaked in the blood pouring from her slit throat.
Ok, maybe I'm mad. Maybe my lust for revenge has finally driven me insane - and for some reason, I'm not surprised. The Games is centered around insanity and bloodlust, I'm simply playing along like my family, and the people from my district, expect me to.
I saw what Lindsay did to Blake earlier. She embraced him in her arms, made him feel cared for and loved, before driving a steel blade through his lower back. Even though I should hate her for lying and killing an ally, I couldn't help but marvel at her cleverness and slyness; so genius.
The sun is high in the sky now, and the water should be lukewarm, perfect for swimming in, so I hastily shrug from my shirt and dive into the shallow ocean. All is still and silent - even the mockingjays in the trees aren't whistling their calming melody. I have no idea where Lindsay is now, I believe she broke off from the Careers to go and find some other tributes. I can't blame her, there's only five of us left, so all the alliances should have split by now. Including her and that ginger kid.
The ginger kid. Something she cares about. Someone she cares about. That ignites a flame of ideas thriving in the back of my mind. This is the Hunger Games, the only thing you can do is kill! So, I'm going to kill. I'm going to kill the thing that matters to her the most.
Nellie's POV (12)
My laughter echoes around the forest, clear as a bell, sounding of joy and happiness. Cameron chuckles too as his fingers scrabble over a delicately-made snare, his hands scaled with rope-burn, yet he doesn't seem to care. Oh, finally, I'm smiling again. It's been seven long and agonizing days since we were introduced to hell, and the alliances were formed, and people started dropping like flies. Now, there's just five of us left. Who I'll have to face, I have no idea. I do know, however, that sooner or later, I'll have to abandon Cameron and set off on my own before he either kills me in my sleep... or the other way round.
"Hey, Nellie?" Cameron asks, and I turn my head as I recover from my laughing fit. "Do you think we have a chance of winning?"
"Cameron, we're in the final five. It's entirely possible - unlikely, I need to admit, but possible. As long as none of the Careers come after us, we'll be fine. I know that ever since we killed Blondie from District 1, that buff guy has had it in for us -"
"Er, we?" says Cameron is mock laughter, and he's rewarded with an exagerrated eye roll from me.
"Alright, I shot an arrow at Blondie! I killed her and pissed off the buff guy and now he's most probably out for my blood. But there's two of us, and only one of him. We have bows, which are long-distance weapons, whereas he has a sword, so he'll have to get close to us in order to butcher us up. If we hid in a tree and lured him in with footprints or blood trails, we could take him down with one shot. Or we could get him in one of your snares and let him starve, or stuff meat down his pockets then capture a Mutt and set it free right in front of him. Gosh, that would be gruesome. As long as we kill him, I'm happy. Because the strong ones need to be taken down first, you know what I mean?"
It's only then when I notice the piercing silence around me, and the fact that Cameron hasn't spoken once through that speech of ways to kill an enemy sends a strange feeling whirling in the pit of my stomach. "Cameron?" I ask quietly, waiting for his voice to reassure me, but still, it's so silent. So I turn to look at him again, and nothing can prepare me for what I see.
There he is; the buff blonde boy from District 1, shirtless and sun-burned, a sword danging from his belt. And there, locked in his arms, is the decapitated head of Cameron, his face contorted with fear and shock. Most probably mirroring mine. Before I can say anything, I dash behind a tree and vomit violently into a wiltering bush. When I emerge, the blonde guy is still in the same place, as still and emotionless as before.
"You bast*d!" I scream, so loudly it scares off the birds which encompass us. "You complete... utter... BAST*D!" My hand dives behind me and grabs and arrow and in two seconds flat I have a blade aimed for his heart. I'm going to shoot. I'm going to shoot.
"There," the blonde boy drops Cameron's head suddenly, and it bounces along the ground and out of view. "You killed her. I kill him. We're equal now." And then, without another word, he disappears into the waves.
BOOM! And there's the cannon I never wanted to hear.
Aylin's POV (4)
"For God's sake, pull yourself together!" I hiss to myself as I deliver another stinging slap to my own face. "What are you doing?! You can't fall in love with your ally! This is the Hunger Games, and only one wins! That's the rule! Yeah, he's cute, so what?!"
No matter how many times I hurt myself, or try to erase my feelings, I know I'm never going to get over this boy. He's more than the boy I watched get forced into Career training, and the one who is in this hell with me. He's my friend, my ally... and I can only wish that he was more. There's no point in telling him how I feel, or making a move, as one of us (or both of us) will surely be dead in a matter of days. Each cannon that fires reminds me that we have pretty much no time left with each other. I'd die for him, and I know he'd die for me. That's all that matters.
The days are literally flying past now, the sunrises and sunsets only hours apart. The Gamemakers are obviously trying to hurry things up and kill us off quickly, because no one like a show that drags on for too long. Surely the audience is getting bored by now. I know I am - me and Charlie are isolated, miles away from any other tributes, and safe from danger unless the Gamemakers decide to set Mutts on us and finish us off painfully. I know that's their preferred way. Make them bleed and suffer... anything for entertainment.
There's so much stuff stirring in my mind; who's going to win, Charlie, possible traps nearby, Charlie, where all the other tributes are, Charlie...
"Pull yourself together, woman!" I slap myself again. "He doesn't love you! Charlie does not love you! You've made this whole relationship up in your head. If you tell him, he'd probably kill you! Just play along with the game and act like you don't care. He doesn't love you! He doesn't, he doesn't, he doesn't. He doesn't love me."
Then, I hear his voice behind me, and the words I never thought I'd hear him say.
"Yes I do."