The giant golden horn that marks the center of the arena each year is a welcome sight amongst the vast colorless landscape that surrounds it. Snow drifts have already piled up against the sides of the Cornucopia, and several fragile icicles hang precariously above its mouth, making the wealth of items that may very well be one tribute’s salvation seem as if they’re being devoured by a great monster rising out of the snow.

Should the newly-released tributes at the Cornucopia glance to their east, they may not realize what they are looking at. They can hardly be blamed; at first glance, this land looks exactly the same as that at the Cornucopia's base, snowy with occasional traces of ice. Further inspection, however, will reveal that this long stretch of "land" is actually mostly ice, with only a veneer of snow. As one moves away from the Cornucopia, this becomes more apparent; snow-bearing clouds rarely hover over the ends, so tributes walking there can tell that they are actually standing on what once must have been a moving, liquid river. As far as anyone can tell from looking, it's currently frozen all the way through. There may be water underneath, and if so breaking through could be valuable, but it would take a long, long time to find out...

Unlike the jungles of last year, this one is not humid; its air is crisp and clear, without the moist, pounding heat that beats down on visitors to tropical rainforests. In many ways it looks the same as the Light Jungle, with its dark, relatively sparse trees and shrubs, but with one crucial difference: what would be rain at another latitude manifests here as snow. Because the flora is so spread out, icy precipitation reaches every level of the jungle. Many of the plants, doomed by their own thick foliage, catch the snow and are eventually suspended in perfect stasis. While this keeps fruits and other plant foods fresh, it doesn't make identification of safe plants any easier. Moreover, only the most resourceful creatures—and tributes—can survive here for long, so wanderers had better be just as capable.

Standing on top of the glacier and looking northwest will reveal little variation in the land. However, take the long path (or, less preferably, drop) down, and what seems from afar to be solid ice will reveal itself to be a thin, brittle sheet. Every step here is a lesson in balance and care, for even the lightest tribute can break through by stomping and the heavier ones will find the ice cracking if they so much as distribute their weight unevenly. Beneath the ice, rivulets of moving water are clearly visible, indicating that anyone who breaks through may be swept away. As one draws closer to the southwest border, which leads into the ocean, these currents grow stronger and the false land becomes even more brittle. Some tributes will find themselves in their element here, particularly smaller ones, but those who rely on force alone should exercise constant vigilance.

Though the soil here is permanently frozen and there are no trees to speak of, the tundra is perhaps the only place in the whole arena where it’s possible to see the ground beneath the characteristic piles of snow and ice. This, however, doesn’t stop the harsh winds from whipping bits of ice and snow across the area at high speeds, coating the tundra’s few inhabitants and minimal plant life with frost.

It is impossible to access this section of the arena without crossing the frozen river that bars it off from everything to the east, and perhaps for a good reason: this natural anomaly is one of the least welcoming, most unfriendly and just plain eerie places in the entire arena. Trees usually found only in tropical climates completely cover this area, but there is one twist: each and every one of them is frozen over, each leaf, branch, and twig completely covered by ice. How these trees got here, it’s impossible to tell; however, what is very apparent is that it isn’t a place you want to be. Sunlight seems to reach not even a single corner of this place, rendering it dark and creepy and full of things that definitely do not want to be bothered.

Embedded within the cliffs that house the Frozen Waterfall, travelers of the West Frozen Jungle's northern border can find what appears to be a large cave entrance. Though the outer walls are rough and vary in coloration, like one would expect from rock, it doesn't take long for the walls to shift to completely black, metal-smooth surfaces. That's not the most disconcerting thing about these caves, however. Whereas the western caves con their guests with light, these caverns are devoid of it entirely. Perhaps it's a trick of the eyes brought on by the mind's inability to comprehend the utter lack of patterns in the black stone, but even tributes with portable lights rarely seem to see as well as they ought to. On the whole the tunnels here are much straighter and easier to navigate than those in the Crystal Caves, but don't bother trying to convince wandering tributes of that. It's hard to believe that anything about your surroundings could be simple when you're constantly looking over your shoulder at a shadow that may or may not be you, or staring into a dark crevice that your flashlight can't quite illuminate while you wonder exactly what made that noise...

In the very northernmost part of the arena lies a waterfall, now frozen over in the arctic climate. The shimmering crystals of ice that cascade down from the top of the cliff are a dazzling sight, both from afar and up close. It is easy to imagine water rushing down the falls, but now that it is frozen over it is a much less accessible source of water, and tributes approaching this majestic landmark should beware of falling icicles.

In the far northeastern part of the East Frozen Jungle, there is a place where the deep brown soil gives way to white. For once the silvery patch is not frozen water, however, but crystal. Curious tributes who venture closer will find a hole in the ground and, through it, a complex system of caves and tunnels made from the same nearly-clear substance. Though the walls here feel and are shaped like the walls of any normal cave, their opaque quality makes them hard to navigate. Anything inside the tunnels can be seen from adjacent ones—not clearly, but the dim, distorted shapes are enough to both warn and unnerve anyone. This effect lessens as one descends into the ground and the sunlight diffuses, but in the deepest tunnels an entirely new effect arises: any light created with fire or electricity will bounce around the tunnel it's carried through, amplifying the brightness considerably. As strange as this all it, there is little danger to any of it. Indeed, being able to see clearly makes it much easier to find one's way out—not to mention safer, since it's almost impossible to sneak up on anyone. Of course, it's equally hard to hide from anyone, so perhaps there are better places to stay after all.

No great mountain dominates this arena, but there is some high ground in the form of a large glacier. Little more than a large block of solid ice with some stones mixed in, this glacier is difficult to climb onto and all too easy to fall off due to its steep sides. Once you're up, you're on a veritable fortress, but don't expect things to be easy. The Glacier is in constant motion, and though it usually goes so slowly it can't be felt (about a foot a day), it sporadically lurches into powerful surges of motion. At their best these are unsettling and will knock a tribute down, but the greatest danger is the possibility of the glacier splitting itself. Some geological (or, more likely, Gamemaker) process causes some surges to affect certain sections more than others, which can result in rifts wide enough to isolate allies, make tributes lose their supplies, or cast them into an abyss.

In the southernmost portion of the arena, the only flowing body of water is found in the form of a small ocean. This water, however, is nowhere near potable as it is completely saturated with salt. Any tribute that ventured to take a swim would find themselves quite buoyant and unable to stay submerged for very long; however, any tribute that ventured to take a swim would also find themselves dead of hypothermia quite suddenly. At the shore of this ocean, large chunks of ice occasionally break away, allowing tributes to travel away from the arena’s landmass — or perhaps just to be cast adrift until their demise.

Any tributes who find themselves adrift in the ocean can count on a variety of ice blocks to receive them. Unfortunately, these icebergs are unreliable saviors. They range wildly in size, with some as large as a tabletop and others as large as a small boat; while the smaller ones have a delicate balance that makes them hard to hang on to, the bigger ones are often difficult to climb onto at all. Moreover, there doesn't seem to be much of value lying around on these chunks of frozen water, but if danger gives chase, it will be very hard indeed to flee.