>The. [DAYS] .are. {NUMBERED}<
Aug 20, 2009 10:08:29 GMT -5
Post by Topaz on Aug 20, 2009 10:08:29 GMT -5
Time is running out…
running out…
running out…
Day One- Camp. [/center]
At the very edge of the forest, the spot where its green mass of trees run into the vast, gray stone crags and peaks that make up the mountain, I decide to make my camp.
I had chosen this spot for a number of reasons; one, there is small flows of meltwater that trickle down the mountain that will provide a steady, if not large, source of water. There is plenty of snow to melt as well. Two, I notice small animal tracks around the area. Animals mean food, if I can catch them, although I have a fair amount of food from the cornucopia for the time being. Three, it provides both the shelter of trees and the protection of a mountain should I have the need to escape in either direction. And finally, four, I could sense no one in the area. So I was isolated, which is what I wanted, for now.
I know I am bending tradition, in a way, by not sticking with the other careers in their camp near the Cornucopia. I know this move could possibly be fatal to me, considering they have everything they could want in the Arena, those careers. But I also know that sticking with them would eventually prove to be lethal as well; for I am not the strongest of them, and if and when they decide to turn on me, I doubt whether or not I would be fast enough to escape them.
No, I am better off flying solo, at least for now.
I scope out the area around me, trying to compose a plan of action. Farther up the mountain, I can see dark, gaping holes in the stone. I am fairly positive those were caves, which would make excellent camping places. But they are too far up and I am not a much practiced climber, not without the right gear. So I cannot risk it. I sighed, knowing my only hope is to camp in the trees. What if I were to fall? But I would think of something.
I give an involuntary shiver. It is getting later into the afternoon; soon it will be evening, and then nightfall. Which meant the air is getting considerably colder. I throw on the extra jacket I had scavenged, as well as the pair of gloves. I could curl up in the sleeping bag and warm, but it is too early for thoughts of rest yet. I need to keep watch, keep myself alert until I have the safety of darkness for sleeping.
I am not so hungry, but I figure I have to eat to keep up strength. I open my food pack and dine on two pieces of bread and some dried fruit. Not much of a meal, but I know I will have to get used to going hungry most of the time, so I might as well start now.
I decide to try something I have never actually tried before, but have practiced a number of times; setting a trap. I have some rope, so I can make a decent snare. Perhaps I can catch a rabbit, or some other small animal? It takes a while, but my trap is eventually set and concealed by leaves. I hope I can wake up in the morning and find some fresh meat in it, although skinning it and removing its innards I was definitely not looking forward too. But I have to suck it up. This is the Hunger Games, not my home, where I could have someone do it for me.
The thought of home gives me a sharp pang for my sister, Sapphire. Is she watching me work out my camp right now? Am I doing everything right, or is she screaming at the big screen television in our sitting room, trying to get me to realize something I have forgotten? I look around nervously, worrying that I had forgotten something. But if I had, I could not figure it out, so I must leave it be for now. Oh, I hope I am doing everything correctly. I knew how much Saph wanted me home.
At this point in time, the cameras would be panning from tribute to tribute, showing what we are doing to the folks at home. I give a slight smile, in case they are trained on me. And I wink, hoping this fairly personal gesture is noticed by my family and friends in District One.
It is getting dark now. Just as the sun goes down I hear the cannon fire. There is at least six or seven dead from the Bloodbath. I had killed one of them, and I see his face flash on the screen. Orerevor Gildus, of District Eight. There is only the smallest feeling of sympathy inside me. I know that it had had to be done. He had to be dead.
And I had to have done it.
It is late when I finish setting up my sleeping bag in the fork between two thick branches of a pine tree. I wish this were deciduous forest instead of coniferous, but it was not and I had to deal. At least these trees are evergreen; they would conceal things behind their needles and leaves even in the coldest of winters. I am happy about that, though happy about little else.
Making sure my backpack is no more than an arm’s length away from me I curl up under my sleeping bag. I am still chilled, but I would be able to sleep without being too uncomfortable. My eyes, the topaz colored orbs I am named for, scan the area one more time before they close, and I drift off into a cautious sleep.
Day one is through. But the days are numbered.[/size][/blockquote]
