Snow has been falling lightly for a while. I pull the collar of my coat up over my neck and shiver. What I really need is a scarf, to keep the cold from my neck and chin. I allow myself a drink from the canteen. My water is running low, and I need to find more. I can survive for weeks without food, but not water. I scoop up some snow and pack it into my water. It's probably dirtied with mud, but I'm not about to turn down anything at this point.
My arm has started to ache again. I sit down near the spreading roots of a tree and open up my bandage. Most of the redness has gone away, but the itching is terrible. I scratch once, but that only makes it worse. I spare a little more ointment, but I know I need to keep it for more severe wounds. I pack up again and head out.
I walk a little ways further before I decide to stop for the night. It's not dark out yet, but I've already had a long and scarring day. I scale a tree to try to make a hammock. I've seen that work for others in previous games. Before I can attempt sleep, however, a sound wakes me up. The chirping of birds. Birds? An excellent source of prey. I climb back down with my sword and boomerang weapon, leaving my supplies secured in the tree.
I follow the sound through the woods. I finally sight a nest high up in a tree. Excellent. I begin to climb a nearby tree before I realize I'm not the only person to find the birds. Two tributes have gathered below, and it's clear that they aren't friends. The girl, that I remember is from 8, starts towards the tree with the birds. The boy from 6 sends a knife through her thigh. She lets out a yell and runs towards him. I watch as she attacks him with spikes on her fingers. There is a lot of yelling, and up in the tree, the nest starts to sway from side to side.
I climb quietly back down the tree. This would be the perfect time to kill them both, but an arrow whizzing by my head distracts me. I look around, and see the girl from 7 standing in the shadows. I reach for my boomerang to send her to her death, but I'm interrupted again by the bird calls.
I whip around, and see the birds from the nest dive-bombing the fighting tributes. They don't look like harmless prey. They are a bright purple color, with streamlined bodies and yellow beaks that come to a needle sharp point. These aren't birds. These are mutts.
The girl from 8 and the boy from 6 have noticed them alright, since one of them has already speared the girl through the neck. A cannon sounds, and that is my cue to start launching my boomerang into the thick of them.
The boy from 6 is waving his knives around, trying to take out one of them, but they're too fast, flitting and darting away from him. Arrows from the District 7 tribute are aiding us, but still, there's too many. Even as I send my weapon again and again into the thick of them, they whiz past me, poking me with their sharp beaks. I can feel two direct hits already.
Finally, the boy from 6 falls to the ground and his cannon booms. That leaves twice as many birds for me to deal with. I take out my sword and start slashing at as many as I can reach.
The other tribute, from 7, is out of arrows. I hear her scream behind me and turn to see one of his eyes missing, the other one having been gobbled down by a bird. I see that most of the birds have settled next to the two bodies of the others and started to feast. I throw my boomerang at the girl from 7. It slices through her heart, and before she can hit the ground, the cannon tolls again.
The birds seem to be satisfied. I slay the few remaining that are circling, and then all is quiet, except for the sound of chomping beaks and scratching talons. I flee from them, not even turning to see whether or not I'm being chased. Running through the snow that is now falling in earnest, back to my tree. I climb the branches, and only when I've reached the top do I allow myself to hurt.
The birds have hit me in four places that are severe. Two in my left calf, one in my right hip, and one glancing off my left hand. I spread paste over all the places and bandage them up. The paste doesn't do much except numb the pain a bit, and I know that in the morning, it will be back in earnest. I close the cap on the paste. There's not much left, and I hope beyond hope that I won't need anymore.
I construct a makeshift hammock out of my blanket and settle down. I judge it to be around 11 o'clock, and it should be time for the faces now. There are six in the sky tonight. The boy from 3 is first, followed by the victims of the birds, the boy from 6, and the girls from 7 and 8. The last to appear are the boy and girl from 11. I study the girl's face, trying to match it with the mangled visage that was my last glimpse of her.
I close my eyes, but sleep will not come to me. So I think of other things. I think of my mother, and father. Of Wyss' smile, and the river where I found my token. My token! I pull it out of my pocket and run my hands over it's surface. I can't see it in the darkness, but I feel the contours of it's heart shape.
In the darkness, there is suddenly a light in the distance. It must be the Careers, I think sleepily. No one else will be so foolish as to start a fire in this darkness. Even though I can't hear anything from that direction, I imagine their celebrations.
"Only nine left," I can hear them crow in my mind. "Only nine left to play!"
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