Cornucopia

It is surprisingly peaceful for a place that is meant to be filled with death. The wind is calm. A gentle breeze carrying the slight scent of cherry blossoms tickles your nose. The sand that stretches out below your feet appears to be meticulously cared for, perhaps the finest sand that the Capitol could collect. There are lines drawn in the sand, each one evenly spaced apart, none ever crossing. They are mesmerizing and swirl throughout the entire area. Even after being tread on, they suspiciously return back to perfection by the next morning. Rocks, no boulders, are scattered throughout. Some covered with moss, some cracked, others in clusters, the lines in the sand circling around them with precision. At the center, a beautiful pavilion stands tall. The dark wood and jade marble flooring stands out harshly against the light colored sand surrounding it. The six sided structure has a short, intricate fence blocking all sides except the steps for the entrance. In the center of the pavilion is a pedestal with the largest boulder you have yet to see atop it. It is oddly out of place, but when you think about it, so are you.