A Game of Chance [THG Fanfic]

Arena, Day Two (3)

-Mia Elgarven, District Eight-

I wake up later, feeling slightly more peaceful than earlier. Nibbling my lip slightly, I begin to worry that, although I presume that only a couple of hours have passed, it may have been more. The sun is quite high in the sky- it could well be afternoon by now.

It is only now that I remember the other tribute. I jerk my head around sharply, and get my first look at their face. Or, rather, his face. Weariness is etched all over it, but somehow he still manages to find in him the strength to get up and walk over to me, giving me a smile as he does so.

I attempt to give him a wobbily smile, but I fear that it turns out to be a grimace, as he doesn't react in any way. Letting my face relax, I use my hands to push myself into a sitting position, just as he sits down beside me, holding out his hand.

I stare at it, confused. What does he want me to do?

He sees my puzzlement, and lowers his hand, looking embarrassed. "Hi," he says nervously. "Who are you?"

I feel worried for a moment, uncertain if I should give out my name to this stranger. Then, I figure that they possibly saved my life so if he had have wanted to kill me, he'd have done so already.

I hold out my hand warily, deciding to see what he wanted to do. He looks relieved, and takes it, moving our hands up and down. I presume that this is a form of greeting. "Mia, District Eight," I tell him.

He looks surprised for a moment, and replies, "but I thought all the district Eight tributes were dead?"

"No, they're not," I snap, suddenly feeling protective of my district. Colour rises in his cheeks, and he mumbles something.

"What?" I ask, curious.

He is quick to respond. "Never mind," he says quickly. "I haven't introduced myself yet. Easton Pierce, District 11."

I nod to show that I took in which district he is from. District 11 often have strong tributes, and although he is younger than most of the tributes, he looks as if he may be following in the past tributes' from his district footsteps'.

"It's my birthday today," he blurts out, suddenly. I look at him, confused.

"How do you know?" I ask, curious.

He looks uncomfortable. "This is the second day of the arena, if the nights and days tell the truth. My birthday is the day after we go in, which would be today."

I hope that the horror I'm feeling isn't evident on my face. We celebrate all of our birthdays in district eight. It is the one time each year that we can relax and be happy. I can't imagine what it would be like having my birthday while in the arena.

I stay quiet for a moment, wondering what to say. What I can say. It's not as if this sort of thing happens very often.

I decide to just say that I feel sorry for him. But, as I turn to him, and open my mouth, a voice interrupts before I can say anything.

It is the Gamemakers. With an announcement.

"Tributes, we have found out that something very exciting is happening today. One of you has a birthday, and we figure that you might as well celebrate in style!"

In the brief pause that follows, Easton looks at me with dread in his eyes. We both know that they must have been talking about him. The chances of another tribute having the same birthday are slim. Our conversation must have been on the live broadcast.

"We have come up with an idea. This evening, a birthday party will be set around the cornacopia. There will be birthday cakes, and no fighting will be allowed.

"But this will be a party with a twist. Inside some of the cakes, there will be minute bombs. So, if you eat these cakes, you will not live to see out the day. These bombs will have a set time to explode at.

"But, if you pick a cake without a bomb, and eat it, one of two events could happen.

"Firstly, it could be harmless, and you would be able to continue as normal.

"The other option is that it could have a microscopic pill inside of it, which will give the person who eats it extra energy, and extra strength. This will also be set on a timer, so you will be away from the party by the time it activates.

"Finally, there will, as with most celebrations, be party bags to take away with you. These will contain whatever you want most in them. Do not try to take another tribute's bag, as there will be consequences.

"The party will be tomorrow, at sunrise. Be prompt, for it will only last for a short space of time.

"Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

Easton is staring at me, frowning. I think that I know what he is considering. Anything we want could mean support for my leg. Or something to cure it.

Just as I think it, he voices exactly what I thought he would say. That he can get my 'party' bag for me.

I don't try to pursuade him otherwise. If I went, i'd be killed, as I don't have a particular skill with weapons, and I don't trust the career pack. Better he goes alone, rather than lugging me around as a burden. Even if I was well, I wouldn't go anyway- I don't want to explode.

He tells me that he will stay up all night, so that he doesn't miss the sunrise, and that before he goes, he will cover me with braches so that I remain hidden from animals and other tributes. I nod, seeing that this is a good idea.

I yawn, my strength nearly spent. I might as well get some sleep, before he goes.

Just as I start to drift into sleep, a loud noise rents the air.

My eyes fly open and I breathe in sharply. That sound is the sound from all of my nightmares.

The sound of the cannon.