Heart of Ice

Chapter 7

Day 2, 5:20 am

As soon as the sun hits the snow, I'm up. It's a goddamn wonder how the bright sun can avoid melting the snow, but it's fake, of course. Even the snow under my boots doesn't seem real.

The tiredness will hit me soon, but I can maybe keep going for another twelve hours before I need a rest. It's been about a day since Argentia woke me to go on the hovercraft. I've been in the arena for less than that.

I'm good on food, plenty of roots and plants grow beneath this snow. I have plenty of water and and clean snow to melt. The sun is warm enough that I'm not cold, and my sleeping bag kept me warm enough last night when I dared use it- the cold keeps you alert.

Most people hide out in the early days of the Games. I'm just going to travel through the mountainous woods until I hear a cannon, then get scared into hiding for awhile. I'll sleep then. Someone just has to die today.

The snow froze over during the night, so as long as I walk lightly and don't slip, I won't leave tracks. I trek through the woods, watching for any animals. The rabbits and squirrels and things here are unafraid of humans, and I poise to throw the axe twice before actually getting up the "guts" to do it- and immediately burst into tears. I keep up the act for a minute or two before moving forward to actually pick up the dead rabbit. I'll cook it later, once I find another cave. There are plenty here, but I want one that is deep enough to conceal some smoke from a fire, but not enough that it might contain one of the Capitol's monsters.

At noon, I'm beat. The water and tree bark isn't keeping me going enough, not without adrenaline to supplement it. And I don't really feel like starting shit with the first tribute I find.

Fortunately for me (but not for whoever just died), a cannon goes off. Fourteen left. Considering it's the middle of the day, the Careers are likely hanging out by the Cornucopia, pigging out on preserved food and resting on piles of sleeping bags. Unless one of them went for a piss and came across someone and one of the two ended up dead, the cannon was probably for someone who ate something they shouldn't have.

At the sound of the cannon, I jerk out of whatever stupor I've been walking in and bolt to the nearest tree for shelter. Once I've allowed my breath to slow, I reevaluate my hiding spot.

I pick a thick, tall pine tree and push the branches aside until I get to the center of it. I climb high, swearing at the sap that sticks to my hands. I'm used to it, but I hate the feeling. Once I judge myself to be high enough, I break apart some branches and lay them on top of each other to make a sort of platform for myself to lay on, while still focusing the majority of my body weight on the actual branches.

I fish out the hand warmers from my bag. You press something inside of them to make the hot, and once they cool down, they have to be at freezing point to work again. With the snow, that won't be a problem, and they'll be invaluable. I lay out my bedroll, and once I get comfortable, I sleep.

The anthem wakes me. I peer through the trees and can barely make out the girl from District 11. No one important. I doubt she died from a plant, being from Eleven. Maybe something attacked her.

I keep myself busy that night by sharpening a stick with my pocket knife. It could maybe make a spear or something, but I don't really care. It's just to keep my hands busy. I carve patterns and words into it- my name, Willow's name, my father's name. The seal of District 7. And when it's too dark to see, I carve the names of the other tributes. The ones who will die before I go home. As the sky begins to lighten, I see that the stick is unreadable, I've carved enough so much into it that you can't see anything at all. I peel the bark off and throw it into the other trees. It's a game that keeps me busy within these Games.