User blog:NerdGuyFilming/100th Annual Hunger Games (What if Katniss failed)

This is the story of a boy named Adam from District 7. In this universe Katniss was executed while attempting to take down Snow and the Hunger Games continued. The story is ongoing, with much more to come.



'''Part 1 '''

Things were a little different this year. For this Quarter Quell, the 100th Annual Hunger Games, four districts would be chosen at random and six tributes from each of these districts would be chosen. Three boys and three girls. I’m Adam, from District 7. When the ancient President Snow gave the announcement there was a moment of great tension in Panem. If your district was chosen to have a reaping, then your fear was the same as every other year with the exception that it was more likely to be chosen to enter the Games. If you were one of the eight districts that don’t have a reaping, then you can breathe a sigh of relief and return to your poverty. The following week of the announcement for which districts would be chosen I didn’t watch. I couldn’t handle the anticipation. Instead I ran to my best-friend’s house. Her name is Lana Neele. She has the same green eyes as my own and long dark brown hair. We both begin our usual trek to the pine forest that borders the small outlying village we live in. The dark green needles and dry bark make me feel at home. I love the woods. Lana; however, does not. The bugs, the animals, the possibility of danger. That is not to say she can’t take care of herself. In fact she’s one of the toughest girls I know. The only one who I can actually wrestle with. She just prefers the hum-drum life of the town in lumber land.

            A rusted chain link fence surrounds the town and “blocks off” the pine forest to citizens. I wonder if the other districts have fences like this one. Our peacekeepers do little to maintain it, but if you’re caught sneaking out a public whipping is the least of your concerns. Lana and I have become pretty adept at sneaking away while people aren’t looking.

            Poverty is still pretty rough around here, but it hasn’t really gotten worse since the rebellion, or so my parents tell me. I was only three when Katniss Everdeen, The Mockingjay, led rebel forces against the Capitol. Secretly I look up to her courage for standing up against such a powerful force. Maybe if she had won the war I wouldn’t have to go hunting in the woods to support my father and myself. My father comes hunting with me usually. He’s the one who taught me how to use a bow and arrow. The Mockingjay also used a bow, but I’m nowhere near as talented as she was, but I’m good enough to catch a meal every other day. Lana has no knowledge of hunting or animal traps, but she helps patch up my gear for hunting like my game bag, boots, clothes, and quiver. As we were weaving in and out of trees I spot my bow hung high in a tree, where I left it, where the only thing that could reach it is a squirrel or maybe a sparrow. Fifteen years earlier a mockingjay would have also been one of the many birds to catch a sight of my bow, but once Katniss Everdeen went into battle at the Capitol a fire bomb that killed several Capitol children and Rebel medics burned her badly. The rebel forces were caught off guard by the bombs and the Capitol took advantage of the moment. In the chaos that ensued she was arrested for treason and most of the rebels were killed. The Mockingjay was publically executed the following morning. The day after her execution, as an act of power by the Capitol, almost every single Mockingjay in Panem was found and slaughtered. I’ll see one maybe once every few years, but they’re nearly extinct now.

            As we hurry on into the forest with no real intention of going anywhere we decide it’s time to head back. Hopefully our district would be spared the horror of The Hunger Games. I say goodbye to Lana as she heads into her small shack of a house where her mother was waiting with a small meal of bread and dried beef.

            Back at my house the news was broken to me immediately. The four districts chosen were One, Five, Seven, and Nine. I remained silent, but inside I was shouting every curse word I could think of that my district was one of the four chosen. I knew almost everyone in the town and several from the slightly larger city to the north. Our smaller town usually got chosen more often during reapings, because poverty was more common with all the children signing up for tesserae. A couple weeks later was the much anticipated reaping. I dressed up in my best clothes, but they were covered in patches of new cloth where holes and tears in the fabric had begun to show. I met with Lana, who was dressed in a pretty knee-length floral dress, outside her house and we walked in complete silence to the city square three miles from our town. Our parents walked together behind us and discussed the weather like it was any other day. But it wasn’t any other day. Groups of other potential tributes walked along with us up the dirt road that leads to the city. In a about an hour and a half we reach the city square. It’s packed and a large stage is set up near the Justice Building. After thirty more minutes of waiting the peacekeepers begin roping off sections of children.

Lana is in the group of eighteen year olds with several other girls I know well like Charlotte Lamoureux, a tall girl with shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes. Next to her was Suzanne Marquez, a shorter girl with jet black hair and near black eyes. A particularly large peacekeeper guides me to the roped off eighteen year old boy section by my shoulder. I find a spot near my good friend Collin Pearson. He’s a slightly larger boy with dark tan skin, brown eyes, short black hair, and a love for a seventeen year old girl in another section. Clare Arellana was standing quietly, looking blankly at the stage with her pale green eyes. Her long golden brown hair was tied up into a tight ponytail and Collin’s eyes never left her.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“It won’t be her Collin. Don’t worry.” I say reassuringly to him. He and Clare have a fierce love for each other and both lived in the slightly more well off section of District 7 in the city.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I stood to the left of Collin and directly in front of me stood a tall skinny boy named Darren Johnson. He was the nicest guy I had ever met and we both shared a love for District 3’s technology, even though neither of us would ever get anywhere near using it. He also lived in the city, but he was still miles away from having enough money to gain access to the gadgets of Three. Not to mention there must be some sort of rule about the districts communicating with one another in such a way.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Just then the district’s escort steps up onto the stage. I don’t pay attention to his name. My focus is completely on the glass bowls filled with names of the children in District 7. My name had been entered seven times. I never registered for tesserae. With my hunting I could provide for my father and I, not to mention Lana’s mother had connections with a baker in the town so bread was never too scarce. Even though other people my age and younger had their names entered more times than myself, my heart began to beat faster. It was my last year of eligibility and the thought of having to enter the arena and spill other children’s blood for the entertainment of Capitol citizens and Snow’s own sadistic nature makes my skin crawl. Maybe the odds will be in my favor today. Maybe I won’t have to kill.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">A brief film is played depicting the Capitol’s “generosity” to the districts after two terrible wars. As it concludes the man from the Capitol steps over to the bowl filled with the names of girls and pulls a slip out.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Charlotte Lamoureux!” He shouts with vigor.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Charlotte has always been a strong girl. She never lets her guard down in front of others and today is no exception. She immediately heads to the stage as if she had been expecting to hear her name and remains calmer than any tribute I have ever seen upon having their name called. The district escort then strides towards the boy’s bowl and theatrically yanks a name free.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Darren Johnson.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">No''. ''He doesn’t deserve this. He’s too nice. Too well-behaved. Too pure hearted. The thought of him cutting someone down, or even worse, being cut down is terrible. I stifle a groan as he steps out of the roped off section and walks to the stage. His glasses fall off the end of his nose on the way up to the stage and he takes a moment to put them back on. I can hear his mother crying a few yards behind me. The district escort comments on his height and informs everyone that he might have what it takes to win. No one nods their head in agreement. He strides back to the girl’s bowl and picks another name.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Clare Arellana.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">She gasps as the words register in her brain and I have to hold Collin in place as he is about to run to her. His large stature and strength are nearly too much for me and I have to remind him that the peacekeepers could punish him and his family for insubordination. He stops struggling, but begins to cry. The tears fall silently down his cheeks as he stoically processes what has happened. His heartbreak is enough to make my own heart crack. The Capitol man steps back to the boy’s bowl and pulls another name free.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Curtis Reynolds.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I didn’t know Curtis well at all. He was a small thirteen year old boy from the city. That’s about as much as I know of him. Before Curtis could even take a step though, Collin did.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I volunteer!”  He shouted to the Capitol man and strode up to the stage. Curtis mouthed “thank you” to Collin as he passed by, but Collin didn’t do it for him. I knew what he was doing. He was going to go into the Games and protect Clare. He was going to die for her. The Capitol escort clapped for Collin’s bravery and stepped back to the girl’s bowl. Last name for them.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.5in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Lana Neele.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.5in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">My jaw drops in shock. Lana can’t move on her own and a small girl behind her

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">nudges her forward. As she steps up to the stage I look behind me, but I can’t see Lana’s mother. She’s as strong as her daughter, but I’ve seen even the toughest parents crack during a reaping. Last year a father watched his son get dragged to the stage by peacekeepers and he fainted on the spot. When he woke up he had the pleasure of watching his son get his throat slit by a girl from District 2. He hasn’t spoken a word since.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Lana walks up to the stage and straightens her glasses. Even as her life has been taken from her, she feels the need to look decent. A plan begins to form in my head and I know I’ve been presented with a choice. The Capitol escort pulls the final name from the bowl.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.5in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Daniel Govenor.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I step forward.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I volunteer!” I shout as I already begin to walk forward to the stage. I climb the steps and Lana and Collin are both shaking their heads no, silently telling me to take it back and return to the crowd, but I can’t now. I know what I have to do and even if I wanted to take it back, that would be against the rules. I will be going into the arena. I will fight to save Lana’s life. I will die for her.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">

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<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center;line-height:200%">'''<span style="font-size:20.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Part 2 '''

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">The entire train ride to the Capitol I was developing a plan to keep Lana alive. Eventually it came down to manpower. As long as I had a few trustworthy alliances, then I could keep myself alive long enough to keep Lana from harm. Darren would obviously be a part of my alliance. His heart was more pure and honest than anyone’s. He could be trusted easily, and after four days in the training center he might be able to develop a few skills that could prove quite useful. Collin would help surely, but I knew in the end if it came down to just Lana, myself, Collin, and Clare, we’d be as good as gone. That didn’t matter as much as having a friend in the arena; however, so he would become a part of the alliance as well. Clare would undoubtedly follow Collin’s lead, and I had a decent friendship with her. That makes three people who could help me. As for Charlotte, I was a bit unsure. She’s bound to be a good fighter, but the look in her eyes screams deception. At some point during the chariot ride I decided to enlist her anyway, because someone as strong as her would prove more useful than not.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">In the Capitol training center I get my first good look at the other tributes. All six tributes from District 1 are huge. It seemed almost every single one of them volunteered. Nothing out of the ordinary there. On the contrary District 9’s tributes were some of the smallest tributes I had ever seen. Three twelve year old boys, one thirteen year old girl, and two other fourteen year old girls. That hardly seemed fair, but I was prepared to kill every single one of them to keep Lana safe. District 5 had a pretty wide variety of tributes. Two fit looking eighteen year old boys who seemed gifted with spears, one small fourteen year old girl who just wanted to go home, a stocky sixteen year old boy who had surprising talent with an axe, a mousy seventeen year old girl who was extremely agile, and a fifteen year old girl who didn’t seem to know what to do with herself.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">  I wake up on the first day of training and immediately get to work. I don’t have much time and I will have to convince all four of them to join me in an alliance. As soon as we begin training I take my time deciding which station to choose. I see Lana has gone to an archery station and I realize I can’t tell her my plan yet. My best fighting skill in the arena is going to be my use of a bow and arrows. Besides it’ll take some tricky wording, explaining it all. I can’t hint to her that I’m doing this to protect her. She’d never allow that. So instead of following her to the archery station I head over to a station involving shelter knowledge, where Darren is attempting to distinguish a potentially dangerous rock formation with a sturdy one.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Hey Darren.” I say in as friendly a voice as I can muster.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Hi Adam.” He says rather distantly. It seems he is trying to relinquish any emotional ties before the Games start. Smart move, but I need him to be my partner.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I think the one on the right is more stable. The one to the left looks too damp. It might give more easily than the other.” I explain. The training center instructor nods and Darren seems impressed. This is my chance.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Darren, I was thinking. During the Games survival is obviously going to be difficult, so I thought it would be more sensible for you, me, and a couple other people from our district to form an alliance.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Well why would we? I mean, there’s only one victor Adam. An alliance seems kind of pointless.”  He says quietly. Darren then begins to pick through some tent gear to see how it can be assembled.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“It wouldn’t be pointless. Every year a Career pack alliance is formed, and almost every year one of the careers wins.” I clarify.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Well that’s true, I guess. Who’s in the alliance?” Darren asks.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Well hopefully Collin, Clare, and Charlotte, but I know for sure Lana will be.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Darren takes a second to think about it and nods his head.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Alright, I’m in.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Great! Thank you so much Darren. We’ll meet up at lunch break and go over strategies for the Games.” I enthusiastically take in all the information I can while at the shelter station and move on to a plant recognition station. I can hunt well, but I have virtually no knowledge of edible plants and berries. I spend an hour at this station and decide that it’s time I try and convince Collin to join the alliance.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I walk the length of the training center and find him at the sword training station. Rather than jump in I decide to watch from a distance and observe his skills. After fifteen minutes of some instruction five dummies are set up in a circle around Collin, each about ten feet away. He is instructed to “kill” three specified dummies and leave the other two untouched. He grasps his sword firmly and waits for the whistle.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">When the instructor gives him the go ahead, Collin instantly sprints to the first dummy and decapitates it. He spins around and shoulder-rolls towards the second marked dummy and slashes it across the chest, directly over the heart. He then sprints back across the circle to the final dummy and stabs it through the throat. He’d be the perfect partner in the arena, but I was also worried. If he can kill this well with a sword, what happens when the alliance inevitably ends?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I can’t worry about that though. If I did I’d enter the arena alone and have no help in protecting Lana. Of course this might be a better route for my own safety, but I’m willing to take the risk when it comes to saving her life. I slowly approach Collin at the station as the destroyed dummies are being collected.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Impressive.” Compliments might be the best way to go.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Thanks.” He says dismissively.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Collin, I have a proposal.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">He looks up at me suspiciously.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“What?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Last year, that girl from District 2 won. And she survived the bloodbath along with the remaining tributes because she formed an alliance with districts one and four. So I think that if you and I form an alliance with Lana, Darren, Clare, and Charlotte we all stand better chances of winning this thing.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">He seems to consider what I say for a little while and picks up his sword. I take a step back, but then take two steps forward. I want him to think I trust him completely. If he doesn’t think that then he may not want to join the alliance. He turns around and decapitates another dummy and seemingly ignores me.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Collin?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Okay I’ll join,” He says. I sigh with relief, “but I don’t want Charlotte in the alliance.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“What? Why?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I don’t trust her, especially not around Clare. They don’t know each other well and don’t seem to like each other much. In the arena that would endanger Clare.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I’ll have to think about it Collin.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Alright, but I’m just saying, if Charlotte is a part of the alliance, me and Clare won’t be.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I walk away fairly certain that I should drop Charlotte from the alliance. It only makes sense. Without Charlotte the alliance will have five people, but with her it will only have four. I decide to make sure it’s the right decision and walk over to the knife-throwing station at the other end of the Training Center. Charlotte is at the front of the line to a target range. In front of her is a small table covered with various sizes and types of throwing knives. She waits for the instructors whistle, picks up a small sharp knife, and throws it towards a target at least thirty feet away. It hits the target directly in the center. She immediately picks up a large serrated knife and throws it at a closer target. It too hits dead in the center. She then picks two knives up and simultaneously throws them at two separate targets. Both hit squarely in the middle. This complicates things a bit.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I find Lana at the camouflage station attempting to disguise herself in a field of flowers with little success. Several other careers appear to be attempting the same feat. It’s a bit unusual for careers to leave one of the weapon’s stations, but maybe they saw the Games where that Peeta Mellark boy was able to stay hidden from other tributes by disguising himself as mud and leaves. It was pretty impressive once you think of the skill behind it.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Lana we need to talk about something.” I say in a hushed voice, attempting to not alert the Careers near us that I have a game plan. I gently grab her hand and pull her to a more secluded area. The knot tying station is pretty abandoned right now. We both squat down and take up a piece of rope and begin tying a simple bow knot.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Okay what is it?” She says harshly.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Are you mad at me?” I ask innocently.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.5in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Well obviously. I can’t believe you volunteered for this. What’s wrong with you? Do

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">you just want to kill people or something?” She accuses. I’m hurt by this, but she does have a valid point. Why would I volunteer for this? Well to save her life. But, again, I can’t tell her that. She wouldn’t let me risk my life for her. I’ll have to remain ambiguous.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“No, of course not, but I’ve got my reasons. I’ll tell you about them later. For now I just wanted to let you know, that we have allies.” I say calmly.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Why did you get us allies? Who are they?!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Calm down. It’s only people from our district, but we’ve got a problem. Collin and Clare won’t join if Charlotte does and I can’t decide if Charlotte’s knife-throwing skills are more valuable than Collin’s skill with a sword.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I don’t like this idea of allies Adam. Think of how easily they could turn around and slit our throats in our sleep.”  She urges. While this is correct, she’s forgetting one thing.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“They need our help, just as much as we need theirs. They won’t turn on us until it gets down to the last couple of tributes. By then we’ll both be long gone. Snuck off together like we always do.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Well if that’s the case, I say you pick Collin and Clare. It’s more people for the group, and we already have two long distance weapons. Darren has gotten pretty good with a spear. He’s been at that station for a few hours now, and we have you with your bow. We need someone to be able to take down an opponent up close.” She explains.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“What would I do without you?” I say admiringly. I’ve got to say, she’s brilliant most of the time. Now is no exception.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Just then we are instructed to go to lunch. I gather my allies at one table and we begin to discuss our plan in the arena. I can’t help but feel sorry for Charlotte. She’s off in the corner of the room with a hurt expression on her face, probably wondering why she wasn’t asked to join the alliance of District 7. She’s too proud to come over and try to join herself though. It seems she’d rather die on her own terms in the arena than have to join an alliance to stay alive, but something tells me she’ll be a precarious adversary in the Games.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Over the next few days we train as hard as we can. Darren becomes an expert with spears and shelter. I know my knowledge of hunting and the bow should be enough of an asset to the team, but I learn how to use a knife well in combat and memorize almost every bit of plant knowledge I can. Collin masters the sword and basic scavenging. Clare becomes handy with short blades and tree climbing. Lana also becomes an expert with spears as Darren does and goes through some endurance training. We’re as ready for the Games as you can get in the few days we’re given and prepare for our interviews separately.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I do terrible during my interview. Usually I’m very outgoing and charismatic, but the sight of neon colors and a screaming crowd makes me stumble over my own words and I develop a nervous stutter that makes me appear to be a bumbling idiot. I definitely didn’t win over any sponsors. Lana, on the other hand, was perfect. She wore a dark green gown that reminded me of the pine needles from back home. She was energetic and sharp as a tack the entire time. At least she gained our alliance some sponsors.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">That night I managed to get a few hours of sleep and woke early the following morning. My arena uniform was laid out for me at the door to my room. This year’s was fairly simple. A form-fitted long-sleeved maroon colored shirt, and matching sleeveless nylon jacket with black cargo pants, and tall black leather boots. I dressed myself and headed to the roof to be transported to the arena. Once I had arrived to my small private room with my stylist she exchanged a few comforting words, but remained oblivious to the complete horror of the situation. I stepped into the tube to be taken into the arena and waited for the plate to rise. I began to shake uncontrollably. Fear was setting in. This is it. The bloodbath at the Cornucopia was about to begin. I have a mission. Protect Lana at all costs.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">The plate begins to rise.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Don’t panic and grab a bow. Don’t go all the way into the mouth of Cornucopia, but grab something useful. Don’t go for the obvious route. Be unpredictable, but stay smart about my decisions. I can do this!

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m blinded by the sun as I’m pushed out of the tube and into the arena. For a moment I can’t see or make sense of anything.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Let the One

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">As my eyes adjust I can see the tributes are all equidistant from the gold Cornucopia in a crescent shape, all facing the mouth. Further investigation shows we’re all on a small grassy island, maybe fifty yards wide and it’s completely spherical. The island has a deep and wide river surrounding it with what looks like a strong current. It would be suicide to try and swim across. So how do we cross it? Then I see the small boulders that appear every twenty yards or so all the way around the island that offer safe passage across the river. They seem slippery though. One misplaced foot and I could slip and crack my head open on the rocks or become victim to one of the other tributes. Beyond the river is a dense forest. No pine trees in sight, just light colored trees with big leaves and vines. Shame. Some pines might have made this whole experience a bit more bearable. The Cornucopia is filled with everything imaginable for survival in the arena and I spot a pearl white colored wooden bow with a matching set of arrows directly in the mouth of the Cornucopia. Too risky to grab that. I’ll have to grab another weapon. Then an idea occurs to me. The Gamemakers haven’t always placed weapons near the Cornucopia. Sometimes as a playful trick they have placed them behind the tributes or even at random places in the arena to create some entertaining confusion. When I turn around I see nothing. No daggers in the river and no maces behind my pedestal. Then I spot it. A jet black bow with a quiver of arrows perched fifteen feet up in a tree across the river. I can get it if I climb fast enough. I can do this. Just then the gong rings and I’m so unprepared I fall flat on my face while attempting to leap off my plate.

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<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center;line-height:200%">'''<span style="font-size:20.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Part 3 '''

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I realize I can’t only grab a bow. One of these packs may hold something essential to surviving the night. I pick myself off the ground and sprint towards the Cornucopia and grab a green messenger bag about twenty feet from the mouth where tributes are already starting to hack away at each other with all kinds of wicked weapons. To my right I see Charlotte has found a vest holding at least ten throwing knives. A ways off I see Collin actually run into the Cornucopia and lunge for a large sword. No sign of Darren, Clare, or Lana in the chaos around me. When a girl from District 5 falls to her knees clutching her bloody throat only ten feet away I know I can’t spend time searching for anyone. I turn in the opposite direction and run directly for the bow hanging in the tree across the river. I carefully place my feet one step after the other on the slippery rocks. On the last rock; however, I slip and fall onto my back, nearly relinquishing my hold on the messenger bag. Just as I regain my footing a spear hurtles past me into the green forest. I turn around and see one of the District 1 boys glaring at me. He quickly speeds back to a pile of spears, but I don’t stick around. By the time he has returned with several spears I’m already ten feet up in the tree. He hurls another one in my direction and I move my foot just in time to avoid being impaled on the soft bark of the tree.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">He shouts in frustration and readies another spear. Just then I grab the bow and a quiver of arrows hanging with it. Unfortunately the entire branch breaks and I go tumbling down with my newly acquired weapons. His spear grazes my cheek as I pick myself up from the ground and it begins to bleed slightly. My knee is throbbing badly, but I can’t check for any damage now and I sprint away from the area into the trees. I feel safer closed in by the trees than out in the open near the other tributes. I weave back and forth as I run deeper into the forest and reach a small meadow. Another tribute comes crashing through the branches into the meadow and I ready an arrow on the string of my bow. I pull the arrow back to my eye and am ready to shoot when I see it’s Charlotte. She has her vest on and draws a knife, but hesitates when she recognizes me. We both understand what we should do, but can’t do it. I sprint in another direction back into the trees and I can hear her footsteps fading into the distance as she must have run the other way. I continue to run for another fifteen minutes, but I can tell I’m becoming dehydrated quickly. I slow down and walk for about half an hour. I’ve put a lot of distance between me and the Cornucopia. Now I need to get my priorities in order. First order of business. Organize my supplies.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I sit on a small boulder and lay my messenger bag, quiver of arrows, and bow down. After opening my bag I could see I snagged a pretty good supply of materials. In it was a bag of beef jerky, a metallic container filled with water, some flint for a fire, and a small knife. I take a sip of water and save the rest for later. No point in eating yet. I should conserve it for as long as possible. I tighten the strap of the messenger bag around my shoulders to make it fit snuggly. I then count the arrows in the quiver and am surprised to find twenty flawless black arrows. That’s more than enough. I sling the quiver over my shoulder and tighten the strap of this as well. My bow is a simple Recurve Bow, but I can tell it’s powerful and will do its job well. I grasp it firmly in my left hand and get started on my second order of business. Find Lana and the rest of the alliance. There is no way I can go back to the Cornucopia to find her. I’d only get myself killed. So I decide to climb a tree and scan the area.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">From the top of a nearby tree I can see about three miles from where I am is a mesa. The top looks hollowed out like there is a crater of some sort, which could be filled with anything. To the left of the mesa is a barren desert that looks like it stretches on and on for miles. Behind me I spot the island with the Cornucopia. Several dead bodies lie on the island, and there are probably more in the forest nearby. After some careful consideration I decide to make a beeline for the mesa. If Lana utilized the same tactic to scan the area it’s most likely that she would head for the mesa. High ground is where we should all be.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Just as I am about to start climbing down to the ground I hear someone running towards the base of the tree. I nock an arrow to the string of my bow and get ready to shoot. A boy from District 9 starts to climb the tree and just as I’m about to release one of my black arrows into his skull, a white arrow lodges itself in his back and he falls from the tree. He’s not dead yet. He stands and looks like he’s about to run, but it’s clear he has no strength to do so and leans against the tree and seems to make peace with his impending death. Just as he closes his eyes an axe hurtles out of nowhere and embeds itself in his forehead. And that was the end of the twelve year old boy from Nine.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">My mouth is dry from witnessing the death of this boy below me. I’ve seen hundreds of children die on screen in previous years as I was forced to watch the publicly televised Hunger Games, but this was different. This was suddenly very real. I’m about to put my arrow back in my quiver when I realize there is still another tribute close by who killed the boy. Soon I hear their loud voices approaching. It’s the career pack. Usually they don’t start hunting this soon. The rest of us tributes at least have until nightfall before the pack comes hunting us down. I guess this year they decided to switch it up a bit. Perhaps to take us by surprise. It worked.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">A tall girl with ridiculous looking light pink hair comes forward and yanks her white arrow free. It was a clean shot. It’s obvious she’s no novice with a bow and arrow. She’s an expert. Two archers this year. I’m sure she and I are being featured right now. They must have a close-up on me this very second. After all I’m in a fairly dangerous situation, caught fifty feet up in a tree with a group of deadly teenagers below me. I grin slyly for the cameras to prove my lack of fear despite the fact that I’m absolutely terrified. Hopefully the pack won’t have the sense to look up.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">A brutish seventeen year old boy, also from One, comes up and yanks the axe free from the other boy’s forehead. Then rather quickly they clear out and start searching for the other tributes. Once I finally feel a bit safer I realize my knee is still throbbing and my cheek is still bleeding a bit. I take my maroon colored shirt and dab it over my cut which quickly stops the bleeding. Then I roll up my pants and observe my knee. It looks like it’s been bruised, but I don’t think it’s anything permanent or serious. It should feel better by tomorrow if I take it easy today. I climb down the branches of the tree and take one look at the boy from Nine. The gushing blood and blank stare on his face nearly makes me hack up this morning’s breakfast. I begin walking in the other direction and don’t even hear the hovercraft that silently takes him away back home.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I have a slight limp from my knee so hunting is out of the question for me today and I take a piece of beef jerky out of my bag. Strangely enough I haven’t seen any animals yet, or even heard them. No birds chirping. No rabbits shuffling under the thick foliage. No bugs clicking their wings. Just nothing. I walk until I hear the cannons start to fire. How many have died on the first day? Nine. Nine tributes have died today. I wonder who it could be. Is Lana still alive? Of course she is. She’s smart. She probably got a good weapon and immediately got off the grassy island. What about Collin? After all he did run directly into the Cornucopia where some of the toughest tributes from District 1 were headed. He could have easily been killed. Then again, he was so skilled with that sword I don’t think many tributes could compete with him in close-quarter combat. I have faith he’s alive, which means Clare probably is too. And Darren? He was one of the smartest people I knew. All I can hope for with him is that he didn’t over-calculate things too much and risked staying put for too long.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">The sun begins to set just as I reach the mesa. It’s taller than I expected and I’d rather not explore this newer area in the dark. I circle the mesa and search for a tall tree. After a few minutes I find a huge cottonwood tree and climb as I high as I dare go. Only when I hear the branches starting to crack under my weight do I stop climbing and settle in one-hundred feet up. I fall asleep rather easily. My muscles and joints were aching and I was eager to escape this nightmare. I’m jolted awake by the blaring trumpets of the Capitol anthem and I now get my chance to see who made it past the first day.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">First up in the sky is the small mousy girl from Five. So all of One survived. A pack of six careers will be very hard to beat, but it’s been done before. Two more girls from Five appear. Next up is the thirteen year old girl from Nine. I can’t help but be thankful to see her face, because that means everyone from Seven survived. Lana survived. The anthem plays on until every tribute from Nine has been shown. So who’s left in the game? Everyone from District 1 including the girl with the pearl white bow and the brute of a boy who seems to love his axe more than anything else. Then there are the two eighteen year old boys from Five who were known to be good with spears and the boy who was also pretty good with his axe. Then there’s Charlotte. I begin to regret not killing her. In the end I’ll have too and now I have one extra enemy to contend with as I protect Lana. Hopefully tomorrow I can reunite with the rest of my alliance. I’m tired of being alone.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">The following morning I wake up feeling surprisingly rejuvenated. No Gamemaker traps in the night, or a bloodthirsty tribute trying to kill me. The break from the action of the first day is exactly what I needed. I quickly recount my supplies and feel the cut on my cheek. It’s scabbed over already so no need to worry much about infection. I roll up my pant leg and see how my knee is. The bruise has turned from its dark purple color to a sickly yellow one. I lean my weight on it and I can tell it’s much better than the day before. Hunting should be no problem today, if I actually manage to find some game. I begin to scale down the side of the tree. Once at the bottom I wonder if Lana has already made it to the top of the mesa. Somehow I doubt it, but if she has then I get to have my best friend back. I begin hiking up the side of the mesa and as I go the trees begin to thin. I don’t much like this. Thinner trees mean it’ll be easier to spot me. Right now the last thing I need is to be pulled into a fight with another tribute. The incline of the slope begins to increase and I find myself using the spare trees to pull myself up the rocky hill. Finally the trees stop all together and I see the top of the mesa. Once I reach the peak I get the shock of my life.

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<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center;line-height:200%">'''<span style="font-size:20.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Part 4 '''

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Inside the crater at the top of the rocky mesa are two rows of twelve houses with a paved road in between and a simple concrete sidewalk on each side. I’m about to run in and explore when I remember that other tributes are armed and ready to kill me. I nock an arrow to the string of my bow and silently sneak down the small steep crater side. The sight of the houses isn’t comforting at all. I sense a trap, but whatever it is I must be over-looking it. The houses are all dramatically different from one another. The house closest to me on the far end of the road is a vast mansion three stories high. It’s painted white and gold and has a chrome roof. It screams the Capitol, but the house to its right is a rickety looking one story cabin. That’s when I realize that I’ve seen this cabin before. It’s Charlotte’s house. It’s been recreated in perfect detail as far as I can tell. The houses around it remain ever-changing. A mansion there. A run-down brick house here. Another one story cabin next to it. Wait! That’s my cabin. My exact cabin! It even has the initials I carved into the wall years ago. I reach for the doorknob when I remember that this could all be a trap. Maybe opening the door will set off an explosion that’s designed to kill anyone stupid enough to fall into the trap. Through the window I can see my bed, dinner table, and even the old rickety ladder my father uses at the mill. I can’t risk going inside and I move on. The potential for supplies in the houses nearly brings me back, but I’ll discuss that with the alliance once I meet them. For now I need to stay put and find some sort of safe vantage point to keep look out for my allies. At the end of the street there is a small rock outcropping. I cautiously approach it and sit down. The arrow remains nocked to the string of my bow while I eat another piece of jerky for breakfast. Hunting can happen later this afternoon or maybe tonight. Only a half hour passes by when I see two figures at the other end of the mesa come leaping over the edge of the crater. They frantically rush down the street directly towards me. I pull the arrow back to my eye and aim directly at the larger one’s heart, but I don’t shoot. I’m waiting for my companions and these two might be some of them. It’s a good thing I waited. Once they were twenty yards from me I can clearly see that it’s Collin and Clare. He is gripping her hand tightly and pulling her along the street.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“COLLIN!” I shout at him as he gets closer. He immediately draws a large cold steel sword slung over his back in a black sheath and twirls his head around, looking for the source of my voice. “Up here!” I bellow down to him. He spots me and begins to head my direction. He doesn’t sheath the sword so my bow remains firmly in my grasp. He may have been one of my friends in District 7, but in the arena friendships have trouble staying intact for obvious reasons. He pants heavily as he lifts Clare up onto the rock outcropping. This gesture makes me less tense as he would never put Clare into harm’s way, which means he must view me as an ally.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“What are you running from?” I whisper to him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“A huge pack of Careers. We can’t stay here. I need to get Clare to safety.” Collin whispers back.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Well I have an idea if you’re up for it.” I say quietly. My mind has changed about the houses. I just hope I’m not wrong.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“What do you have in mind?” He asks.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“There’s a ladder inside my cabin over there. If we can get to it in time we could climb up onto one of the roofs of the mansions and camp out for the night.” I suggest

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“You do realize these houses are probably booby trapped right? The second you walk into your cabin the whole mesa could cave in.” He angrily responds.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Well I think I’ll take my chances with that rather than be hunted for days on foot by the Career pack.”  I exclaim.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Collin considers this for a moment and nods his head. We sprint back to my cabin and ready our weapons. Clare pulls out two kukri knives and braces herself for a trap. I reach my hand towards the handle on the rickety door. I start to shake slightly, but steady myself. The cameras are watching. I have to show caution not fear. I gently grip the door handle and slowly turn the knob. Nothing happens. I open the door and peer inside. There doesn’t seem to be any signs of a trap, but the Gamemakers can get pretty tricky. Suddenly I hear the sounds of shouting teenagers scrambling up the rocky mesa. The Career pack is close. Very close. No time to worry about traps now. I lunge for the old ladder and hoist is onto my shoulder. I squeeze my way out of the doorway and Collin grabs the end closest to him. We sprint towards the large mansion I walked past earlier and set the ladder against it. It’s barely tall enough to get us to the roof, but it’ll do. The shouts from the career pack are very close now.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Clare, go.” Collin says in a hushed voice.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Clare sheathes her two kukri knives and climbs as fast as she can. Collin motions for me to go next and I scramble my way to the top, but having to hold my bow in one hand slows me down considerably. The voices are getting louder and are probably only a few feet from the lip of the crater. I roll over the edge of the roof and see it is made of polished sheet metal. I peer over the edge and see Collin climbing to the top at an extremely fast pace. Once he reaches the roof the both of us hoist the ladder up off the ground and onto the roof with us. Just as the last rung of the ladder is safely on the roof, I can see the group of careers charging into the crater. Clare, Collin, and I duck our heads low so as not to be seen. The careers begin shouting their admiration to the Gamemakers about their creativity. Bunch of suck-ups. Eventually they start kicking doors down looking for tributes hiding themselves away inside the houses. They certainly are bold. Or maybe they’re just plain stupid. Probably both. After a few hours of them breaking into the twenty four houses they move on out of the crater and on into the rest of the arena. We were safe for now.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Have you seen any other people from our alliance?” I ask Collin.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“No. I saw a guy from District 5 running through the forest yesterday just after dusk, but he’s the only other tribute I’ve seen other than the Career pack since the bloodbath.” He calmly says.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“We need to find Lana and Darren. They’re gonna die out there alone.” I say urgently.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“There’s not much we can do to find them. It’s best if we just stay put and hope that they make their way to the crater.” Clare says. She’s probably right. Even if we went out searching we could spend days going in the wrong direction. It’s too risky to go searching, so for now the three of us would stay safe and sound up on the roof of one of the tribute’s mansion.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">For the next few hours we lay out our supplies and memorize them and their uses well. On top of the bag that I was able to grab, they each were able to snatch up two backpacks filled with supplies, no doubt because of Collin’s skill with his sword at the bloodbath. I’m about to ask how many tributes Collin has killed already, but decide that I don’t really want to know. Better not to think of how deadly the person sitting right next to me is. After emptying their packs I see they struck gold. Five large canisters of water, two blankets, four bags of dried fruit, some flint, and some thick black rope. The sun is beginning to descend in the sky, but there are still a few hours of daylight left. I decide that I’ll go hunting at dusk. Despite having as much food as we have, I realize it will go quickly. We’ll need more by the end of the week.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Once all the supplies are safely tucked away into our packs, Collin and I decide to explore the other houses to scrounge up any supplies we can find. After Clare gives us the go ahead we both quickly and silently descend the rickety old ladder to the crater floor. Once at the bottom Clare pulls the ladder up onto the roof and Collin and I walk towards Charlotte’s cabin. I nock and arrow to the string of my bow and stay on the lookout for other tributes while Collin searches the cabin. After ten minutes he comes back outside with a disappointed expression. I nod my head and we walk to the next house. Collin pulls his sword out and I investigate the brick house. The interior is one large room with a wobbly old table in the center. Next to it, along one wall, are two small cots and that’s it. No tools, no clothes, and no food. Seems like some of these tributes were on the verge of starvation before the Games, but that’s to be expected. As I turn around to leave the depressing house, I notice a digital clock on the far wall. Strange for someone who seems to be so poor. Even stranger was that it was on a timer counting down to something. Only sixty seconds left on it. I race out of the house and we move back towards my cabin. I don’t feel like waiting around for whatever happens when the clock hits zero.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“There was a timer on the wall of that house back there.” I tell Collin.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“That’s weird. How much time was left?” Collin asks.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“About a minute. Let’s not worry about it though. Could be anything.” I say with a false tone of confidence.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif""> Collin strides into my cabin and begins rifling through the dressers in the center room. Suddenly I hear a cannon fire. Every muscle in my body tenses as I look around for some kind of danger. Nothing. Collin comes sprinting out of the house and grabs me by the shoulder pulling me along back towards the mansion.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“What’s wrong?!” I yell to him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“The timer was in your house too and there was only about ten seconds left on it!” He frantically explains to me.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Just then a deep rumbling resonates from the center of the mesa and the ground beneath our feet shakes. I turn around, but I can’t see anything actually happening. Some of the houses are swaying slightly from the vibrations in the ground, but I decide now is not the time to be making guesses about this new challenge.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“CLARE! DROP THE BAGS OFF THE ROOF AND GET DOWN HERE!” Collin yells up to the roof. All three bags come falling to the ground immediately and the ladder swings over the edge of the roof. Clare begins to descend the ladder, but the trembling in the earth snaps the ladder in half. As she plummets to the ground Collin leaps forward and catches her in his arms. This saves her, but Collin’s left shoulder is crushed between Clare and the earth. He shouts in pain, but there’s no time for comforting words or a helping hand. I grab my pack and sprint to the edge of the crater. I turn around before climbing the small rocky incline and see Collin and Clare running in my direction with both of their packs on Clare’s back. Collin winces in pain with every step he takes, but he doesn’t slow down in any way. Clare and I climb to the top of the crater and hoist Collin up with us. Just before we go downhill I see the paved road cracking away. In the deep fault line that is now appearing yellowish steam is shooting out and filling the crater. No doubt it isn’t beneficial to our health and we run down the mesa’s steep side. The shaking intensifies and all three of us lose our footing. My head throbs more and more as we all go tumbling down into the tree line. Once at the bottom we pick ourselves up from the ground and sprint further into the forest. Branches and underbrush whip at our faces and legs while we run further away from the mesa. I suppose I’ll have to find Lana some other way.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">A deafening roar comes from the mesa as the greatest tremor of all knocks the three of us to the ground again. The impact knocks the wind out of me and I’m temporarily blinded as my eyes tear up. I turn over on my back and see a towering geyser of molten lava erupting from the center of the mesa.

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<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center;line-height:200%">'''<span style="font-size:20.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Part 5 '''

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">We’re still too close to the mesa to be safe. Much too close. I pick Collin up and support him by slinging his good arm over my shoulder and we all run farther away from the mesa, unsure of what we could be running into. The heat of the lava can be felt even from here and this spurs us forward. A painful stitch in my side causes a slight limp, but I can’t stop. Sweat is dripping down my forehead and into my eyes. Tree roots and shrubbery trip me left and right, but if I fall I could die. If I die, Lana might too. Then I think of her bloody corpse next to a victorious Career and this spurs me forward with renewed vigor. Suddenly I have more energy than I ever have and I can keep running. An hour later my body finally runs out of juice and I fall to the ground with Collin. I’ve put a lot of miles between myself and the volcano now. Clare catches up and slumps down next to a large tree. The three of us are soaked in sweat and can’t move at all. We’re miles from the volcanic mesa now and virtually safe, assuming the lava hardens before it reaches this far into the forest. I can smell smoke as there must be a large forest fire near the mesa. I look up and see what I believe to be snow for a moment. Once it reaches the ground I see that I’m wrong. It’s ash. Ash from the volcano is blanketing the area.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I pull a canister of water from Collin’s pack and we all pass it along to each other until it’s completely empty. This may not be tactically smart, but we were all very dehydrated from the run and we need our strength. It’s only day two and there’s still fifteen tributes left, ten of which are enemies out in the arena. No wait. Nine now. The cannon I heard earlier could have been anyone. Please don’t be Lana I think. Please. Another hour passes and the sun is setting. The ash is about an inch thick wherever I look. I’ve rested myself enough. I need to hunt before we move on. I grab my bow and stand up. Suddenly the world around me gets darker and I almost pass out. Luckily the tunnel vision passes and I can stand normally. My stomach growls for food and I take a piece of beef jerky from my pack.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I’ll be back in a few hours after I’ve finished hunting.” I say quietly to them.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">They simply nod their heads in understanding as I march into a new section of the forest. After about half an hour of walking the sun has completely set and darkness has covered the forest. I scale a tree and perch myself up about twenty feet scanning the forest floor. Back home I would usually only have to wait for about an hour before something scurried beneath me, but after an hour passes I still haven’t seen anything. There are still no sounds of any wildlife. I decide to simply wait longer, because something has to pass by eventually. But nothing does. I wait a whole three hours before I grudgingly hop out of the tree and head back to camp. Something’s not right. What are the Gamemakers playing at? Is this the only section of the forest that’s completely animal free or is the entire arena that way? No. They wouldn’t not put any wildlife in the arena. Too many people would die of starvation, and that’s no fun to watch for the Capitol. They want to see blood. But then I realize that there’s more food in the packs than usual. No, think positive. It must just be this section of the forest that has no game, and the volcano might have driven the wildlife miles away. Tomorrow we’ll be in a new section of the arena and I’ll be able to hunt again.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">As I make the journey back to camp the Capitol anthem begins to play. I climb the closest tree and look up into the sky to see who the cannon fire was for earlier. It’s one of the girls from District 1. That’s strange. Could she have been killed by another tribute? No, otherwise there would have been a second cannon for whoever killed her when the rest of the pack hunted the tribute down. She must have run into a Gamemaker trap somehow. I wish I knew. The Capitol anthem ends and I hike back to camp undisturbed by tributes, mutts, traps, or animals.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Clare is asleep under one of the blankets, but Collin is nowhere to be seen. I nock an arrow to the string of my bow and scan the surrounding area. Suddenly someone strong has me by the neck and has thrown me to the ground. I look up and see Collin glaring at me with his sword pointed at my throat. He recognizes me and relinquishes his hold.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Sorry, I thought you were another tribute.” He says apologetically.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Who else in the arena has a jet black bow?” I ask.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“You never know.” He answers. He does have a point, and he’s just trying to protect someone he loves.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Where’s your game?” He asks.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I couldn’t catch anything. It’s weird. I think the Gamemakers don’t have any animals in this section of the arena or the volcano drove them away.” I answer.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Are you sure you’re not just a bad hunter.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“No I’m telling you, there is nothing here. Listen. You can’t hear anything. No birds, bugs, or animals. We should get moving as soon as we can tomorrow morning.” I explain.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">He shrugs his shoulders and checks on Clare. I tell him to sleep for now and that I’d take watch for a while. After several hours I can barely keep my eyes open and I wake him to take a shift. As soon as I close my eyes I’m being shook awake by Collin and I can see the sun rising. What a refreshing bit of sleep.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">We pack our supplies and begin hiking south. The trees grow thicker and Collin takes the lead as he hacks away the thick underbrush with his sword. By midday we’ve covered at least ten miles. This arena is enormous. While this comforts me because it spaces the tributes out, which makes a run in with the Careers less likely, it also disappoints me when I realize finding Lana is going to be nearly impossible. We take a break from our progress near an open meadow to rehydrate and eat some of our food reserve. There’s no ash here, which eases me. Seeing the gray surroundings reflected my mood all too well. The air is hotter today and we’ve all sweat a considerable amount. While Collin and Clare spend a moment eating and resting I scan the area with an arrow already attached to the string of my bow. A glimmer of light catches my eye. I turn to see a small flashing red light about one-hundred feet away from our camp. I don’t move a muscle as I size up this new part of the arena. What could it be? It doesn’t seem threatening, but neither did the houses and that didn’t turn out so well.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Collin. Clare. Come here.” I say in a hushed voice.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">They bring the packs with them and walk towards me. Once they see the flashing light they each crouch down low and draw their weapons.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“What is that?” Clare asks.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I don’t know.” I say.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Suddenly a beeping sound can be heard in sync with the flashes of light.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“What should we do?” Collin asks.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t answer him. I’m completely unsure as to what we should do. The beeping and flashing begin to quicken. I draw the arrow back to my eye and launch it directly at the light. The arrow disappears behind the light and seemingly does nothing to it. The beeping and flashing continue to quicken until it’s practically one high pitched squeal. This goes on for another few minutes until it abruptly stops. I’m about to move when the brightest light I’ve ever seen emanates from where the flashing red light was. I can barely see anything, but then realize there is another immediate danger. The light radiates a heat so intense I can feel my skin cooking. Collin, Clare, and I duck behind some larger trees where the beam of light can’t fully reach us. The heat is still there, but it’s bearable now. A few minutes pass by, but the beam of light persists and seems to be growing hotter. The grass and flowers in the meadow begin to catch fire. I’m about to make a run for it through the heat when the light disappears. Collin, Clare, and I don’t take any time discussing what just happened and take off running further south. Just when I feel like we’re safe I hear the beeping again. I turn around and see the flashing light is back in the same location as before. Good. We should be just fine over here away from the beam.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I turn around and continue hiking south away from the flashing light when I begin to hear the beeping more clearly. I turn around to see the flashing light sliding further south following us. Oh no.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Run!” I yell at the others.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">We take off running as fast as we can, but the light persists and begins squealing again. The sound abruptly stops and I know what’s about to come, but we’re still ahead of the light. The same intense beam of light appears, but it’s gotten worse. The heat is much more extreme and the beam ignites all the foliage it touches instantaneously! I can see no end to either side of the beam and I’m forced to keep running south. The beam isn’t traveling too fast, but it doesn’t tire the way we tributes can. Clare begins to fall behind and her hair is singed on the beam. This gives her a surge of adrenaline and she soon is fifteen feet ahead of Collin and I. The beam isn’t stopping this time around, and the heat continues to intensify. Trees several feet from the beam begin to burst into flames. Pretty soon this thing will have cooked us alive. There must be a way to survive this. There must be! I see a break in the trees ahead, which should make it easier to run. The thick underbrush of the forest catches hold of my foot and I go tumbling down onto the ground. I pick myself up fast enough to stay ahead of the beam, but before we can reach the clearing a huge branch from one the trees overhead falls directly in my path already lit on fire from the heat of the beam. I swerve out of the way, but accidently bump into Clare who falls to the ground. I race back to her and lift her up, but the beam is only ten feet away and the sleeve of her shirt catches fire before we can get far enough away. She pats the sleeve in hopes of extinguishing the flames to no avail. We break through the trees into the clearing and I can see a large lake about five hundred feet from the tree line. Finally something good happens. Clare sprints to the water’s edge and dives in. Collin, who has fallen behind a bit, and I follow suit. I stay under the surface of the water hoping the beam won’t penetrate the depths of the lake, but after a while when I can no longer hold my breath I return to the surface to see the beam has stopped at the tree line.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">After several minutes the beam disappears and leaves a massive fire in its wake. Collin, Clare, and I pull ourselves from the water and lie down along the sandy shore line panting heavily. My skin is dry and feels as if I’ve received a bad sunburn. Clare pulls her sleeve back to show a large burn along her arm. It’s not too severe but it stretches all the way from her mid forearm to her shoulder. Collin inspects the burn and rifles through his pack for something that could help.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Spit on it.” I say. “It won’t heal it any faster, but it should relieve some of the discomfort.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Collin looks at me as if I’m trying to pull a joke on them, but Clare spits on the large burn straightaway. I look around at the area we have landed ourselves in and smile at the luck of it all. The lake is about one mile wide and stretches on for about two miles southward. To my right is more of the forest and I can see the mesa. It’s completely covered in black and grey solidified lava. To my left is just more forest and two tributes. Wait! Two tributes! I grab my bow from the ground and nock an arrow to the string. I pull the arrow back to my eye and wait for them to get a little closer. They were maybe two-hundred feet away and didn’t seem to notice us. Collin draws his sword, but I hold out my hand, silently telling him to stay put. I stand up and begin to approach them. The tribute on the left takes notice of me, but I can’t see their faces. The heat waves and smoke from the forest fire make it nearly impossible. The tribute, surprisingly drops their weapon and begins running towards me. Does this person want to die? Even if they had a weapon I’d have an arrow in their skull before they could even lift a finger against me. I’d gladly oblige this person’s death wish to keep Lana safe.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">As the tribute gets closer I can see it’s a girl by her long brown hair. Then it hits me. I drop my bow and run towards her. When she’s only a few feet away I can see the joy on her face and I embrace her like I’d never hold her again.

<span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-ansi-language: EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">I’ve found Lana.