In the forest !ALONE!

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The Woods. Day 2. Very Early.

"Whenever you do a thing, though it can never be known but to yourself, ask yourself how you would act were all the world looking at you, and act accordingly."-Thomas Jefferson

Later that day, or very early in the morning of the next... a tired, haggard teen by the name of Arcadia London awoke. She had been sleeping in a massive willow tree, dozing off every now and then. The small blanket that she had taken from the Cornucopia wrapped around her as tightly as it had the food-pack she had gotten the day before. The night had been cold, but bearable as Cady knew what positions to sleep in, and how to conserve her energy/body heat. She had come to the willow, after having consumed what must have been ten gallons of water (or enough to make her stomach gurgle and the water shake around) and a small salad. It wasn't enough to keep her at her best, but this was the Arena--having food and water was a blessing. Her cuts from the Cornucopia had been washed, and Cady had even taken the time to splash water on her face before hiking up-river (in the shallow water so she would leave no foot-prints behind in the damp ground. She would be too easily tracked.) about a mile. She had ended up finding a willow just about seventy feet away from the stream. The source of water was still in her line of vision, but the Career was far away enough, that if any Packs came, they would not immediately pose a threat to her.

"Place your clothes and weapons where you can find them in the dark."-Robert Heinlein

The tree was bushy enough to provide Arcadia London, Career extraordinaire, with cover from most of the wind, and her Bloody Shirt had helped to keep the teen warm. It was about three hours before dawn when her eyes snapped open and she searched the waning night for a meal. Her knife in hand, as it had been the whole night; she narrowed her eyes at a slight movement in the bushes. An opossum. Cady didn’t know much about them, but she had seen a few and her Father had a fur-lined coat made out of one. She had always admired the soft coat, and sworn once she was filthy rich she would pay people to make her a coat entirely made of opossum fur.

It was a total score, she smiled and clapped her hands together, in case she was on camera (it made Cady seem more interesting and spunky). The fur would be used as ear-muffles if she could figure out a good way to skin the thing without hurling. The meat could be eaten raw. (it would give her stomach some problems, but with all the strange food she had had, in the Capitol--and the few raw meals from District Two, she could manage) Arcadia gently lowered herself from the tree, and aimed her knife at the small creature.

It soared through the air, and as soon as the blade made contact with something, she rushed over to retrieve her prey, only to find the opossum had escaped. Bloody, but alive it had scrambled away, over to wherever it called home. Cady cursed and grabbed her knife, running back to her tree and waiting about half an hour before trying to find something to eat again. As she waited, the teen munched on some of the leaves she had collected the day before, even plucking a few blueberries out of the mix.

Her stomach growled. Cady was almost glad for it, as her feet felt funny after having walked through the river the day before. Her boots had kept most of the water out, but moisture and a few drops of ice-cold water had found their way in. Her socks were slightly damp, and her feet numb beneath them. The opossum fur would have been great to stuff down her boots right about now. Cady finally gave up and walked silently through the night. Closer to the charred remains of part of the woods than to t he clearing she relieved herself, and made her way back toward the willow which Cady would now refer to in her mind as home.

In order, to give the audience something to watch, as she came closer to her tree, Cady smiled and broke out into a jog. She hugged the tree-trunk and climbed into the willow quickly. "Home, sweet home," she whispered, happy that the constant noise of the forest mixed with the trickle of the water masked her voice from any keen ears listening for a Tribute to take down. The Capitols microphones would pick up on her voice, but not any people in the Arena unless they were about five feet or less away. Just to make sure, Arcadia glanced down, her eyes once again raking across the forest just to make sure there really was no Career Pack lying in wait.

"There are no gains without pains."-Benjamin Franklin

Finally a bird was within knife-throwing distance. Cady waited, letting it get comfortable as it too searched the forest for a breakfast. She watched as the bird pecked at the forest floor, and hurled her knife at it. The knife pinned in right through its middle. As Arcadia strolled over to it, she was horrified to find it was still alive. Don’t get all weak on us now Cady-Bird! Father called sadistically and sarcastically to her. Arcadia wanted to kill him for calling her Cady-Bird just then, but swallowed her anger. She ripped the bloody knife out of the poor creature, and proceeded to decapitate it, feeling worse for the poor bird than she had for the boy killed the day before.

Maybe it was the feeling of innocence. The bird she had in her arms now--held beneath a bush so the blood would not be visible on the uncovered floor for any Tributes to discover and track her from--was innocent. Maybe not innocent, innocent, but it certainly hadn’t gone out determined to kill Arcadia like that boy had yesterday. That was the difference between predators and prey. Killing predators was fine, as it was an agreement not to hold grudges between each other for killing another (seeing as how they would have done the same to you if they could) but the bond between predator and prey was more fragile and heart-breaking. Predator had long ago made Preys decision. Predator had become stronger than weak prey, and filled with smugness for killing their Predator opponents, had not seen the wrong in hurting the innocent prey. Had not seen how terrible it was to kill somebody who would never hurt you. Careers had been spawned by cruel, bad Predators.

Cady felt a tear trickle down her cheek and fall onto the bird. A salty year mixed with wine-red, full-of-life blood of the bird. She sat there plucking her prey of its feathers and stuffing them down her boots to help warm her feet before taking one and tucking it into her hair. It would be a good ID card for Cady. Instead of Districts Twos Female Tribute, she would be the Feather Girl, or maybe even Cady-Bird.

Finally a small, naked bird was left, a gash going through his or her body. Cady didn’t think she could eat the bird just yet, but finally hunger one the struggle in her head. Arcadia cut the birds flesh into strips and proceeded to wrap them in t he remaining herb-leaves before stuffing them in her mouth. Her meal done, and a smudge of blood across her face, she got up. Her legs tired and numb from crouching so long, she ran. The Bloody Shirt once again whipped around in the wind. Her feet made soft thumps on the ground as she ran deeper into the forest, leaving the bird, her willow, and all remnants of that fragile peace behind.

Something occurred to Arcadia as the sun just started to rise, and she came to the end of the stream. It was shocking, and Cady gasped then. No tears had trickled down her cheeks today. She had cried herself dry, and the puffy, redness she had expected would be what surrounded her eyes the whole time she spent in the Arena had gone down. No longer was Arcadia crying, but instead she found the courage to laugh silently and smile as she lapped up water using her tongue. One hand firmly gripping her trusty-knife, and the other held against t he ground, there to propel her into a standing position if need be, Arcadia drank. She felt braver and more confident than the teen could remember being for awhile...

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The Clearing. Day 2. Midmorning

She had her back to a tree as Arcadia gathered from a blueberry bush. The berries were sour and small, but they were food. Already the coyote-tail was looking better and better. She thought this all as the teen chewed on grass. It was comforting to the teen that might die at any moment. She picked the berries while praying. Not to God, or Father, or anything other spiritual guide of the like. She wasn't expecting some Guardian Angel dressed in pure, stark-white robes to fly down and take her to Heaven, or to Griffin's side. (if the two weren't the same thing as she suspected) Cady London was praying to the good people of the Capitol to send her a freaking donation so she could get a water skin! It had been awhile since she had called out, yet still no silver box had arrived.

Nothing had changed for the better. The only true changes she could sense, was the feeling of desperation knawing at her, the growing hunger in her belly, and the shallow breaths she was taking. A lack of water had led to the first and third changes. Arcadia felt a blueberry ooze out juice as she punctured its skin with her finger-nail. It was the only annoyance she would allow the audience to see on the outside. The audience had to believe the wet twinkle in her eyes was because she was hopeful, and the smile on her face was in place because she was happy. They had to believe that when she had taken the time to push her hair back and re-tie the ribbon and such of her bun; it was out of love and care, not because the hair was getting in her line of vision. They had to believe Cady was not a Career, but a hopeful, tough, bubbly girl just trying to survive.

Her Mentor had not known what to do with Arcadia when presented to him. She had refused to look entirely weak to the audience, as if she were to slip up in her facade, it would be too obvious she was strong and feral instead of weak and pathetic. Even a hint of anger would be blown out of proportions if she was assumed to be doll-like. Cady hadn’t been able to pull off the pretty, flirty girl act either as she was not a basic, warm pretty. Her features were too alien and unique. Nobody in all of Panem looked like Arcadia, not one bit. Finally she had been told to come up with something by herself. Cady had told them she would play the, 'sweet, tough, stubborn card.'

The truth was, she had chosen that 'card' because Cady had a feeling that if she had been raised like any other girl in District Two. Like any girl, who only had to be a Career Monday through Saturday--she would have been that Card. Arcadia had seen it lay before her eyes, she would be the nice, charming, tough, stubborn, funny, wise, amazing, temper-mental, slightly-insane girl who led a Career Pack and had an awesome boy-friend. The Card, whom she liked to refer to as Diana, (a name her mother had always been so fond of. Nira had murmured it in her sleep....) had been a better/worse girl than Cady.

Griffin Tucker had never fallen in love with gentle, fiery Diana, and Diana had never even thought about him. That in itself meant Diana had to be somewhat worse than Arcadia, who had learned a lot about the truth from Griffin. On the other hand, Diana had not been raised by Father, and instead raised by a stronger, better Nira. Diana had been taught to be fierce, but never driven into volunteering for the killer Games. That made her slightly better than Cady. Diana was just too different to compare.

Thinking of Griffin... Hadn’t Arcadia London been avoiding just that? Hadn’t she convinced herself, growing weak and sap-ish was definitely not good in the Hunger Games. Yes and yes. Her heart still ached though, because Cady knew she didn’t want to spend her last few days on earth thinking about how much she hated Father, and dreaming about the poor Tribute from her very own District, whose name escaped her, and amber eyes captivated Arcadia. A part of her was stomping its foot and telling her to just relax a little bit, while the bigger, stronger part screamed at her to keep on fighting and expel the killer-thoughts.

A deep breath in, and out. Her mind went blank, and all Cady could feel was the blue-berry in her hand, oozing out juice onto her. Blueberries were a lot like people. So delicate and easily destroyed. They came in all shapes and sizes, and eventually fell to their deaths. Some were wild and unharmed by the troubles of hungry Careers, whereas other had been grown. They were bred to be the best, sweetest, amazing blue-berries ever (like Cady) and sometimes they got ribbons and awards for being so magnificent, even though, in the end they always shriveled up and died.

Her clear, clairvoyant blue eyes opened and Cady shoved the blue-berries into her pocket. It had been a few minutes since she had started picking them, and already it seemed like she was running out. Either another Tribute had come and plucked them, or Arcadia had taken more than she realized (maybe even both things had occurred.) The thought was alarming. Cady didn’t know what she would do if she stumbled across a Tribute, crouching down behind a bush gobbling up all the berries. It seemed so wrong to kill somebody that was so… so, like her, but in the Arena that wasn’t a good thing to think.

“Suddenly, a world where right and wrong used to be as clear as black and white leaves room for little more than shades of gray”—Sarah. ‘Shattered Mirror,’ by Amelia Atwaters-Rhodes

She sighed—trying to rid her busy mind of the mental-image of said Tribute, and moved onto the wild broccoli, grimacing at it. Rabbits had already eaten most of the vegetable, but there were a few half-eaten remains. She quickly snatched the food and ran back to her blue-berry bush to retrieve her coyote-tail. It was almost noon of the first full day of the Hunger Games. Time had passed so slowly, and it seemed much longer. Time flowed in weird ways when you didn’t know how much of it you had left.

She turned toward the river and her very own willow. No water had arrived yet, and she seriously doubted it would until the river finally was dry. Might as well go take a good, long drink now... she thought. Shelter was easy, and lunch had been taken care of. In a few hours the Career would once again have to worry about dinner, shelter, and water but right now she would enjoy the serenity and solitude. Right now she would imagine there was no knife in her hand, and she was merely jogging down one of Districts Twos deserted roads.

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The Clearing. Day 2. Midafternoon

She sat there, trying, trying so hard to dodge the emotions and images throwing themselves into her mental-mix. So much pain and love and feeling rushed through her veins until she was filled with a heart ache that extended from the tips of her toes to the blonde hair on her head. The sad thing was, one cannot stop it once it happens. One simple action, say looking down at worn out, scraped up hands, led Arcadia to a place she did not want to go.

The past.

Thats right, the past--memories filled her head and brought pangs to her heart. Seven crazy cousins smiling at Cady right before one of them chucked a balloon filled with pink paint at the back of her head. It wasn't a pretty memory, as Arcadia had been forced to cut her hair extremely short. The funny thing was, it was one of the few times she had watched her serious Career family laugh and smile at something. Even if they had been smirking and high-fiving as a sobbing little Cady-Bird stared int the mirror at her new, short haircut, it was an incredible memory that brought home sickness.

After that memory, images filled up her brain, over-shadowing the last. Her mom braiding her hair down her back, smiling at a little Cady-Bird, telling her how beautiful and unique she was. Arcadia winning a game of poker against her Father (ignore the last part where he slaps her silly and tells her to never ever tell a sole.) Cady slapping her mean uncle who had made a rude remark (dont mind the part where the uncle kicked Arcadia in the face and later got beat up by Father for damaging her perfect teeth when obviously they needed to be gorgeous when she volunteered for the Games.) Bittersweet memories filled with irony, physical pain and mental exhaustion somehow seized hold of the Tribute. There was no escaping any of it.

Who knew she had had such a distrubing HBO sitcom-worthy life? If Arcadia didn't win the Games, maybe the Capitol would just be interested in recording the daily life of her family because they were just so fun. The Career-Part of the London family heritage could be ignored if the Capitol television people put their minds to it. All the buff seven year olds whose dream was to enter the Game and kill people could be explained as children born with natural dedication to the Capitol. No way were they ever brain-washed into thinking killing a bunch of other kids! Who would ever brainwash kids into believing that? She smirked as that point came across her mind, but then it happened, then...

Then there was Griffin. Seventeen years were meaningless, they all vanished just as quickly as they had come and what was left was a mind blank except one image. Griffin. That was it--she desperately clinged to her mental-image of him staring into space when he most likely thought she wasn't looking, or at least didn't care. How could somebody she love, bring so much pain? She sat there, her hands shaking. It wasn't fair. Truly, absurdly unfair. Arcadia felt satisfaction in the back of her head, because she had just summed up life in three simple words.

No deep breathing exercises could calm the teen. Father must have been freaking out, yelling at the television screen (i they were showing her) wondering why she had suddenly weakened so drastically. Obviously it wasn't because some tear-jerking memory of them, 'just hanging out,' although she was sure Father would say so when they interviewed him. She closed her eyes, wishing that when she opened them Cady would be leaning against her special tree back at home, it would be nighttime and Griffin would smile as say she was too tired to be much fun at the moment. Arcadia would nod and tell him she had been day-dreaming, and everything would go back to normal.

That was not the case. Cady opened her eyes and looked at the sun, judging it had been about half an hour since she'd gone into I'm-sure-theres-somebody-out-there mode. She stretched herself, working the numbness from her left foot. Finally after ten minutes of physically and mentally composing herself, Arcadia grabbed her supplies. The teens eyes scoured over the woods below.

She carefully climbed down the tree, until Cady London was about five feet from the ground. The Career impatiently dropped herself to the ground with a far-too-loud thud, wincing at the noise. At least you were wrong me'dear. Nobody seems to be around to have heard you, but maybe you should fly away my little Cady-Bird, just to be safe Father yelled, and Cady tried to keep the smile off her face. Did it seem like he was losing his voice? In her mind Father was growing tired of screaming at her about how stupid it was to have cut that coyotes tail off, or let herself fall int a daze moments before...

"Shut up," she whispered, ignoring the part of her brain that was telling her to just shut up, because Father was helping. My head is way too crowded... she then thought. Next, her dead mother would start scolding her crazy-Career-self, protecting her from Father, and telling the true Cady not to give up. Maybe her cousins would make a special appearance. Her blue eyes rolled toward the heavens. There was a choice to be made now, stay or leave? Father had brought up a very important issue.

She looked toward where the stream had been, and sighed thinking about how low it had been before. No use going back. The berries in the clearing were dying and as the alien-like girl looked toward the sky, she noticed smoke in one direction. "Fire!" she spoke the one word before adjusting her load and running in the opposite direction, inching closer and closer to the mountains. Miles away there were dangerous Careers and packs of tributes dwelling on the mountain-side. Arcadia knew nothing of this as she kept on pushing herself further and further away from her base-camp.

As she ran, Arcadia felt the self-made wind mix with the chilling Gamemaker-made wind. Memories of her life outside the Arena melted away. Once again Arcadia London was a strong, cold, hard killing-machine out to destroy all those who stood in the way of her return to District Two. One could not notice the gradual change from mushy-girl to cold-hearted femme, unless they looked at her eyes. They slowly turned dead, sparks of emotion leaving them. Buried deep within her frozen-over heart was all the emotion she had previously felt, but as usual Cady just pushed it under. Nothing was wrong if you could ignore it...

"Ignorance is your new best friend.
Ignorance is your new best friend."
--because even in the Arena, everybody needs a friend.
Paramores 'Ignorance'

When will she stop running? asked a small boy who looked like Arcadia. His blue eyes were fixed on Career-Trainer extrodinaire, Father.
He shook his head, ignoring the small child's question. Why was his Cady-Bird flying so fast? What did she have to fear besides an eansy-weansy little fire?
A replay of tears spilling down his grand-daughters face brought Father into the Arena. He felt like he was standing only a few feet away from Arcadia, watching her cry.
Why does she cry? the annoying grand-nephew had asked.
That time Father had not ignored him. The question was too good to ignore...

Why was little Cady crying?
Why was she so sad?

ooc- Ill add quotes to this tomorrow or the next day