360° [Day Seven, Joshua & Anani vs. Tree Peckers]

After seven long, seemingly endless days in the arena, they'd wound up right back where they started.

Joshua surveyed the area from his vantage point by the Cornucopia with fastidious care, carefully noting what little was in sight; it was as if the tribute expected twenty-two shadowy forms to emerge from the surrounding gloom and the cycle to suddenly repeat, with another thunderous introduction and another "Let the Fifty-sixth Hunger Games begin!" echoing throught the arena and another frantic scuffle playing out by the titanic symbol of plenty. Despite his apparent expectations, Anani remained the only sign of life in the area. The district nine male hadn't seen another tribute since the altercation with Luyu had been interrupted by the crowlike abominations. More than once the teenager had wondered if he'd somehow slept through a few cannon shots - was it possible that the number of humans had dwindled down to only three or four without his knowledge, and at any moment the last opposing tributes would suddenly appear in the fog?

But that, of course, was a ridiculous thought.

He didn't even attempt to muffle his sigh as he clicked open the pocket watch and glanced down at its pale face, holding it farther away to make out the carefully etched numbers. According to the probably-untrustworthy timepiece, it was early evening back home, though it wasn't as if he could call them to check the accuracy. He shut the watch again, roving gaze turning instead to the inpenetrable banks of fog above; for all they knew, the sun had reached its zenith, but that - just like the time back home - would remain an uncertainty. Joshua wondered, not for the first time, how the Hiccups duo was faring; last night, when he'd been freezing, the pair of loons had probably been sitting around a fire, a dropping temperature the farthest thing from either of their minds.

When they'd been younger - maybe before Josh had even been eligible for the Reaping - Roman had once told a gruesome story about a hunter caught out in a snowstorm with only his hound for company; the unfortunate character had taken shelter in a cave, but that had only kept him out of the harsh, bitter wind. He'd curled up with his faithful canine, but soon even that warmth had seemed meager. After several frigid hours, the desperate man had slit open his dog and had used the steaming innards to warm himself, though once even that had cooled he'd had nothing to ward away the inevitable frostbite.Though it was indisputably amoral to share such a story with a nine- or ten-year-old, he could even now remember how Roman had relished every unwilling reaction. If anyone ever inquired, Joshua certainly wouldn't hesitate to admit that, last night, he'd more or less considered reenacting the story with Anani playing the part of the dog. He hadn't seriously considered it, of course, not when there would have been enormous quantities of blood involved, not when he was more or less completely crippled and reliant on Anani's inexplicable charity, but they didn't even have a fire.

Still, beggars can't be choosers. Twenty-one would have to be his lucky number.

Joshua stifled a yawn, blinking rapidly for a scattered moment to try to maintain a facade of alertness. It was no secret that he hadn't rested deeply since entering the arena, but the last time he'd caught a few moments of much-needed sleep at the Cornucopia, a rain of shoes had interrupted that. The tribute wasn't quick to tempt fate by lowering his guard again - what did he want this time, a hail of belt buckles? Needles? Scarecrow limbs? And yet, it wasn't as if there was a lot worth monitoring in the strangely bleak area, so alertness was unnecessary... It wasn't as if he was going to initiate a conversation with Anani to try and stay awake - 'optimism' was one thing, but in the past two days, the boy had been unnervingly cheerful. Perhaps he was just trying to maintain a semblance of calmness and tranquility when they could, at any moment, be suddenly shot down, but Joshua would have preferred gallows humor to reassuring smiles.

He leaned back against the Cornucopia, closing his eyes for a second too long, swallowed by a dream, tumultuous and scattered, of numbers and rhythms and puzzles lacking solutions. He flinched back into consciousness about fifteen minutes later, startled awake by twin shots from the cannon, heart beating so wildly that he almost mistook it for more shots.Joshua's wide gaze twitched from Anani to his bow and quiver within reach, then to Anani again. No Capitol machine descended from above to snatch them up. They were still alive, then, but now that number had just dropped even more. The 'living tributes' club was becoming more exclusive by the second.