A wooden platform rests at the peak of a large, grassy hill. Any tributes who venture close enough will notice the creaky stairs leading up to empty nooses, gently swaying in the breeze. It doesn’t take a history lesson to know that these ropes were tightened around human necks. In a trick of the moonlight, perhaps one will see the ghosts of executed prisoners.

There is something unsettling about this forest- something that doesn't compare to the rest of the arena.As you step beneath the canopy, the hollow branches entangling themselves above you until the perpetual midnight sky is hidden from view with the only light from scattered Jack-O-Lanterns who smile too friendly in a place like this, you feel a chill wash over your body and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle in anticipation. You swear you can hear voices whispering, crying and screaming. You tell yourself this place isn't haunted- but did you just see that? A spectral figure running through the trees? - Ali

The first thing you notice about this forest, is the putrid smell of rot. The next thing you notice, is that every inch of this place is encased in Ivy. No square inch of the forest is spared from the tendrils of Ivy that creep over the barks of the trees, tangle themselves between the branches, and spread across the forest floor like a carpet. The ivy is a disease here, and on closer inspection you see that some of the trees are beginning to rot beneath their prison of vines and leaves. If you try cut away the Ivy, it grows back almost instantly, slithering to heal where a second ago, there'd been tree bark. Don't stay here too long, or you might become part of the undergrowth.

Emerging into a clearing, tributes see the calm. Serenity. The moon, bright and clear, reflects in the seemingly still water. But don't let the calm lull you into a false sense of security. This place does not make you feel secure; in fact, it's the opposite. If a tribute dares step nearer to the water's edge, they'll see faint ripples along it's surface. The bottom sinks into blackness -- wouldn't you like to know what's inside it?

There is only one word that could describe this place - eerie. The trees curl and creak in the slight breeze, knocking together with an almost musical quality. It does not take a lot of consideration that these are bones; human bones. Take a closer look, and the tribute would see names, faintly written on the stump, of old tributes and names unknown.