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“And so it was decreed that each year the twelve Districts of Panem shall offer up in tribute one young male and female between the ages of twelve and eighteen to be trained in the art or survival, and to be prepared to fight to the death…and so without further ado, the Capitol welcomes you all to the 74th Hunger Games” echoes the Gamemakers voice over the vast terrain of the Arena. A small snow floats down around the contestants sticking to the ground, making it all the more slippery for the ones preparing to run. The tributes stand on their pods awaiting the countdown of the games holding still, almost like statues, no grins, no smiles, knowing that somewhere in the Districts there face is being broadcasted across million of television sets everywhere. Some are looking for the easiest place to run, others are sizing up the person next to them, some looking at the tall, gold Cornucopia before them awed with it’s treasures that it holds. Weapons, foods of all sorts, survival gear line the gold opening. Backpacks and other oddities are strew about farther from it’s center for some of the less aggressive contestants although there is no safety even that close to the violence that comes with the Cornucopia. The careers from 1, 2 and 3 are all making eye contact, clearly already forming an alliance with one look. They want whatever is in the depths of that Cornucopia. “May the odds be ever in your favor.” A clock with a digital voice begins to count down from 60 seconds, step off your pod too early and your body will be blown up by a mine, but sometimes it’s a better way to go, or so some say. “5….4…3…2….1…..” And so begins the 74th Hunger Games.

Brielle felt her heart hammering hard beneath her ribcage. Her hands were trembling. And the ldark tight body suit she wore showed how much her body was shaking. She hid it well, though, in the composure of her face. Her mouth was straight, pursed inwards. Her hair was slicked back into a long low ponytail. Brie heard the pounding from her chest all the way to the back of her neck, and she could even feel the pulsing in her heels and ankles. It wasn't a feeling she liked. Neither was the whole idea of being a tribute. But she sort of liked the way the capitol thrived off of others pain. It's the way she felt about her guardian. So it was an understandable concept for the brat. A twitch in the side of her lip went off as she thought of her mothers screams of agony at night as she had ngiht terrors. Brielle's eyes were scanning the cornocopia, looking for objects she could sprint at. Her stylist was a very smart man to give her cleat type boots. Brielle felt as if she could run straight for the back of knives she saw confidently without sliding or tripping. The knives were obviously throwing knives by the way they were packaged into a black belt looking thing, it was folded up, but she could see the holding parts of the knifes sticking out through the top. Her mind echoed with her own thoughts she almost stuttered a scream when the audioed voice  said the word one. Brie basically blacked out, she began into a sweat as she sprinted as fast as she could towards the cornucopia. She forgot about the other members around her, and her only gaze and thought was on the package of knives and the backpasck sitting a few feet away from it. She knew from watching previous games that it wasn't likely for her to get both, but she'd still try. She saw a little blonde boy, Lucas, she believed running a few steps behind her. Her pace quicked, her arms moving back and forth by her sides as she ran. Her pace never stopped after she bent down and grasped the knife back in her tight grip. The adrenaline was still pumping into her body, and she was stepping over a sling shot, and the boy Lucas dived down for it. Brielle wasn't thinking. Going off of pure adrenaline, she slid a knife out of her knife belt and chucked the knife straight into the boys spine as he dove. Her aim impeccable as always. She kept going though, next for the backpack. She noticed some tributes heading for it as well. Brie was closest. And with the weapons in her grip, she knew she was going to get it. She slid her hand into the arm of the pack and headed straight for the snocaps and right of the northern cliff. Towards the upper lake in the forest. But she had no idea what she'd find. Her pace was still quick, but she died off of adrenalin and she kept going. The girl knew she had to put as much distance between her and the other tributes as possible. Once she couldn't run anymore, she checked her srroundings. Dense, dense forests surrounded her. And she suddenly felt terrible. She wasn't around trees often, coming from the technology district. So she would have to focus on finding a good most likely, underground place to stay for the night. She kept walking, creeping, being silent. Agile and silent would help her out. And she slid the backpack onto her back and the knife belt around her waist for quick knife grabbing. Brielle scanned the area, listening for others with her ears, and searching for places to rest for the night with her eyes. Soon enough she came accross a very very large oak tree, the roots were very large as well. And underneat the tree was nice and thick bushes. Brielle got down on her knees and quickly pushes the bushes away, and she was right. Hiding behind the bushes, under the roots of the big tree, was a hollowed out ground. It almost looked like a bowl directly underneath the trunk. She quickly threw her backpack into the bowl and her belt of knives next. It was almost impossible for her to get her little body in through the little opening between the trunk of the tree and the dirt at the edge of the bowl shaped hollow. But she setteled into the bowl and next she slid the plants and bushes back over the opening. It was the most perfect ideal hiding spot.

As soon as Wren emerged into the arena, she frantically scanned the pods for her brother looking specifically for his bright blonde head. Her blonde hair was braided down her back by request, and her thermal outfit she prayed would keep her warm like her stylish promised. Before they were separated in training, Wren and Lucas had each promised each other to run north east as fast as they could no matter where that lead them in the arena. They would try and meet up using the bird call of a wren in order to protect each other, a foolproof plan since they were both fast, or at least she thought it was. She finally found him on the opposite side of the circle of tributes; his eyes were planted on a shiny new, metallic slingshot complete with balls that did who knows what to there target lying beneath a layer of snow. No Lucas, please no she screamed in her head, the gamemakers were tricking him; they wanted him dead, it was more drama for the Capitol to see the sister and brother duo broken before the game even started. She had to believe that Lucas was smarter then that, that he would listen to his older sister like he always had, the sister that protected him, knew what was best for him, always. Getting lost in her thoughts was a large disadvantage for her, the last second was already gone and by now she was behind the crowd that was racing either into the terrain, or towards the Cornucopia. She didn’t have time to look back at her brother as she grabbed the closest backpack to her slinging it over her shoulder and running as fast as she could; little did she know it would be the last time she ever saw him.

Lucas was shaking with anxiety as he emerged from the pod into the arena, repeating over and over in his head his plan with his sister. Get backpack, run north east, wren call, get backpack, run north east, get backpack, when his eyes locked on a perfectly crafted sling shot. It was a straight shot to it from the pod he was standing on, although it was a bit close to the Cornucopia for comfort…but he was fast right, maybe not as fast as Wren but he was sure he could beat out the other competitors, well except for the Careers, but what would they want with a slingshot when they were headed for the real goods inside the Cornucopia. One part of him wanted to go against his sister who always told him what to do, where to go, how to act but another part wanted her protection, wanted to follow through with her plan and meet safely, but nobody was ever safe here and even she knew that, and they would need more then food and whatever else was in the backpack to survive. As the last few seconds counted down he readied his stance to sprint and headed straight for the slingshot as he heard one. He felt alive as she lunged for the device, his hand reaching around it when he felt a jab in his spine. He reached around his back and found a perfectly poised knifes handle in its target, a girl, he could just barely make her out as she jumped over his body but it was a girl. He felt the bile rising in his throat, the taste of iron filling his mouth. He choked; his face contorted in agony as he pulled the blade from his back and fell into a heap his other hand still holding onto the slingshot, one he would never get to use, but the last thing he thought of was his sister, and how sorry he was.

The numbers began descending from sixty. Raena's posture remained still, balanced. For nearly ten seconds, her focus was on the other tributes. The were drenched with fear, it was obvious. Some were shaking, some were staring at the other tribute from their district. She mentally noted each little detail about them, or at least tried to. Their height, what district they were in, the weapon or person their eyes were fixated on. Her scanning haulted on a short, pale, petite girl with dark eyes, dark hair, ending near the small of her back. That was... Sophie Dupont? Right. One of district 12's tributes. Poor unfortunate soul. There wasn't a way in heck she'd make it through the games. It was sad, knowing that you were practically walking into your death. Knowing that your fate rested with a small, fragile piece of paper. There was fear in the girls eyes which instantly made Raena's eyelids collapse. Both pointer and middle fingers came together in front of her chest as the rest of her fingers remained closed. She inhaled deeply. Thirty. Her fingers separated as she brought the pairs to each of her temples. She remained still, concentrating on the sounds flooding her air, the shifts in weight on the pods, the direction of the wind. A tiny grin appeared on her face. Ten. She cracked each finger, then her neck, taking up three of the seconds she had left. Her long, fiery, wavy locks were neatly tied into a secure bun on the back of her head. The suit that clung to her body made her feel invincible, swift, strong. Five, four, three, her eyes flashed open. It was something she did, mentally map out the aura of her surroundings. Whatever her gaze landed on when the sunlight touched her pupils was what she'd go after. It'd help her, somehow. Two. There it was. A bag. A bag that seemed to be packed with numerous things that could either help her or harm her. The sack sat ontop of a medium-sized bow that seemed to have no arrows around. It was too late to scope anything else out. One. Raena, highly skilled in acrobatic-type maneuvers, sprinted off her pod, straight for the bag that sat on the bow. Once near, she dove, sliding an arm through a strap, gripping the edge of the bow while rolling. She popped up from the ground almost instantly, darting towards the forests edge. She pushed herself off the ground, jumping over a little blonde haired boy on the ground... dead. Already? Well, that sure didn't take long. She pushed herself harder, keeping pace through the trees. She need to find somewhere safe, somewhere secluded. Everyone, if they weren't smart enough, would settle for somewhere within a few miles. She knew she had to get futher away. It'd be a long night. She kept going, beginning to run towards the western cliffs. She knew she'd have to keep running for a long time before she finally met her destination. 

As the voice overhead began counting, Elijah eyes darted straight towards Sophie who was already staring straight back at him. "Run." he mouthed to her. Elijah knew if Sophie wanted to stay alive, she'd have to get as far away from these people as possible. Sophie was no match for them at all. His main focus wasn't on the other tributes, Sophie, or himself. It was the weapons that piled infront of all the tributes, some of which wouldn't even make it ten minutes in the games. He took a deep breath, feeling his heartrate increase in his temples. He eyed the stack of weapons, landing on something that appeared to be limited. It was a fair size. It looked like the ends of spears wrapped in cloth. One weapon. Near the roll of things was arrows. Ah those would come in handy. Two. He looked around again. Five, four, three, two, one. That was it, he didn't have enough time to mentally snatch anything else. He sprinted towards the items, forcing his shoulder into another fellow tribute. The girl was a good size, but it wasn't a good idea to get in his way when he was fighting for his life. He snatched the arrows and the bundle of cloth just before noticing something shiny. He narrowed his eyes, only to be surprised at the site. He gripped the handle and sped off in the direction he prayed Sophie had gone in. He let out a groan as he felt something glide across the back of his calf. It stung, bad. He continued running as fast as he could, ignoring the burning soaring through his leg. Where the hell was Sophie? He didn't want to risk being killed by yelling for his girlfriend. Minutes passed as he felt the back of his calf flush cold and wet. Oh, great. He was bleeding. He kept running, beginning to breath heavily through his lips. He jumped off a short cliff, causing a ring of dirty water to splash around him when the bottoms of his boots met the bottom of the puddle. He lowered himself behind the rocky ledge, unwrapping the black cloth. He was right, it was spear heads. He slid them into the tops of his boots. Next were the arrows. Crap. He laid them on the floor before dipping the rather long piece of cloth into the water. He rung it out, wrapped it around his calf a couple times, then lined the arrows up with the side of his leg before securely tying the cloth in a knot. Hopefully they'd stay. He picked up his axe, then began running again, continuing his search for Sophie. If he didn't find her soon, there was no way she'd make it until the morning.

When her pod began to raise, Sophie's breathing became rapid. She couldn't do this. She hated it. She considered stepping off her pod. Blowing to bits and pieces by a mine was better than giving satisfaction to a teenager who decided to take your innocent life, right? She looked towards Elijah, who eventually looked back at her. Run? Wait, what? Was he serious? She felt the sting of a tear roll down her cold, pale cheek. He looked away, causing another one to fall. He didn't look back. She looked straight, looking around to see if any other tribute was as afraid as she was. Her stare settled on a red-head across the circle. She looked... deadly. Freckles lined the girls cheek, which only made her eyes look darker. The girl had shut her eyes and began... meditating? Sophie looked back at Elijah, wanting to run to him. She wanted it to be like old times. She wanted to be able to hold his hand one last time, to kiss him one last time, to live with him one last time with no fear. Three, two, one. Her heart stopped. She hesitated as nearly everyone darted for the cornucopia. She turned, heading off into the trees. He had told her to run, and that's what she planned on doing. He'd find her, she had faith. Her long, black hair was done in a french braid. It snaked behind her back as she ran. What if this was the end? What if she was mauled by some creature? What if she was instantly blown to bits by a minefield? What if... her eyes widened at the rather large oak that stood in front of her. Crack. She heard footsteps in the distance. Her eyes widened as she climbed the tree, perching herself on one of the rather wide branches towards the middle of the tree that, for some reason, had a dip in the cneter. It hid her perfectly. She remained still, holding her breath. That's when she heard a bush rustling on her tree. Crap. Someone was right there. She wouldn't risk peeking over the side, she couldn't.  She needed to somehow flee from the tree and find Elijah. He was her only chance of survival. She looked up, beginning to count the leaves above her. She wished they were stars. She and Elijah always layed under the stars as she'd count them. He risked a whole lot to be with her. She felt another set of tears forming as she slowly shut her eyelids, beginning to feel goosebumps settle on her thin arms. It was going to be a long time before she met up with her beloved again, if the opportunity ever were to be presented.

Brock felt the vibrtions from the numbers counting down. He looked around at his contenders, remembering it would be his last time seeing these people. He is a friendly guy, and over the course of their training he grew to love these people. But this was a game. A competition. And he knew he had a job to do. He let his gaze fan out over the resources fanned out infront of him. He could almost taste the victory of feeling that mace beneath his muscular grip. The last word he heard was one. The next thing he knew, it was go time. His gaze locked on the mace and he ran full speed at the golden cornucopia infront of him. Without hesitation, he was one of the first people at the copia. He grasped a little sack, which he had no idea what contained, and the mace he had wanted. It made him happy, confident that he got more than expected. Within no time he was sprinting out of there, and towards the North Mountains. He took a path he saw no one else taking. But the first thing that crossed his mind was shelter. That thought didn't stop Brock. He wanted to get closed towards the outer rim of the arena. His black body suit clinged tightly to his loving generous muscules, and he looked up at the oaks slowly starting to receed around him. He knew he was either entering a desert, or a patch of ice. Instead, Brock took a glance up to check where he was walking while he inspected the well made mace, he took a double take. A huge ice-capped mountain stood infront of him, and a grin slid onto Brocks face. He knew mountains well, and he was in great shape to climb. So of course, Brock took a running start towards the rising of the moutain, mace in hand and the sack in his belt loop. He hadn't yet checked what was in the sack, but he knew he was lucky to have grabbed it. Brock knew it would be risky to go towards the mountains with snow, because it didn't look like to offered much food choice. But he knew that it offered lots of cold water that was easy to get to.

Ryder tried to suppress his excitement as he emerged into the arena, with the tributes from one, two and three all on his side they were almost invincible, and the Cornucopia was all theirs. He glanced around and met the eyes of all of his ally’s nodding his head ever so slightly. He kept himself in ready position to sprint straight towards the Cornucopia, ready to fight anyone off with hand to hand combat and then the weapons he would gain later from the loot. As the seconds counted down the more eager Rider got. He could feel his black hair sticking to the back of his neck from the wet snow landing in his hair, although his body felt warm in his outfit his stylist constructed. Before he knew it the time was up and he was racing towards the center, he reached it without a problem, the other careers there at almost the same time as him, although Brielle the tribute from three was already fleeing into the woods. Traitor, he thought to himself. He grabbed onto a metal wrist cuff that held a retractable blade, perfect for combat he decided and decided to grab another serrated knife that caught his eye. Getting a bit to carried up in the weaponry he hadn’t noticed that a girl from district 4 had come up behind him with a hammer. She swung it at his head, screeching as she did so, but she was too clumsy with the heavy object it and missed giving Ryder and easy opportunity to slit her throat as she struggled to lift the heavy hammer again. She sunk to the ground her eyes rolling back into her head, her blood pooling around her short pale hair. He smiled. He looked around seeing many other that had fallen. The boy from eight and five, the brother from district 9, the girl from 11 and now the girl from four.

Harley breathed, her eyes were intrigued with every little thing that was in front of her. She glanced to the right, there was a backpack and it looked full; probably had everything she could possibly need to survive. But she was smart enough to know that everyone would be going for that. Harley wasn’t stupid, and that was a death-wish. She looked over at the smaller things: there was another small pack, hidden, with things inside of it that she couldn’t even possibly try to imagine. 40 seconds, the words chimed over her head. She breathed again, looking to her left there were people standing just as still as she was. Did they dare run after it now? No, they aren’t stupid enough. She thought to herself, disappointed. Her blonde hair had been tied back into a neat, slick braid. She wore a tight body-suit, black. Her shoes cleated and light, they were easy for running and good for traction. She also had a light rain jacket with a hood, it could help her later. Unless they made it 103 degrees outside, she’d be fine. Besides the part about being killed.. 20 seconds, she heard again. She didn’t dare move in inch, she knew what she was going for and she intended on getting it. She was fast and agile, and she didn’t give up without a fight. 10, 9, 8.. the deep voice said once more. She took another deep breath, and as the countdown ended she leaped, running as fast as she could to the small pack. She made eye contact with the girl from District from District 10 who was right on her tail, she must have seen the same thing she had. She swiped up the pack and a small case of knives. Opening them up swiftly she grabbed the smallest one and stopped dead in her tracks, letting the other girl pass her, but she spun around and came at Harley. Harley swiped the girl, with the knife she was holding, in the neck. Causing her to fall, as soon as she hit the ground she began running again to the woods. She didn’t think about what she leaving behind nor cared. She kept running as fast as she could. Step by step by step she lost all noises from the battlefield. How many lives had been lost already? She would just have to wait and see.

(Harley's small pack she grabbed: X)

Vladimir was counting to himself, softly, in the empty room he was being held in. It all still felt unreal to him, unfair.58, 57, 56. His soft voice chanted, as he attempted to collect himself. 49, 48, 47. He never thought that this would be him, especially not now. 33, 32, 31. It wasn't supposed to be like this, this was supposed to be a time of joy for him. Only four days until his 19th birthday, just four days and he would've been spared this hell. Thats what this was, hell on earth. 21, 20, 19. His entire body tensed, the hair on his arms and the back of his head stood straight. He fought to keep his breathing steady, to clear his mind of the torment he knew was to come. 15, 14, 13. Strategy, that's what he should focus on, strategy. He knew nothing about the others, but he did have some important information. He knew his own strengths, and his own weaknesses, something the other tributes did not. He also knew what people expected from these games, previous strategies that had been used in the past. 8, 7, 6. Here it comes. He felt the platform begin to rise and immediately pushed down the sense of panic that arose in his chest. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. That was it, this was the time. Gooseflesh covered his skin as he refrained from jumping right into it. His mind worked quickly as his eyes followed the movements of the other tributes. He stayed absolutely still for the first few seconds, which was actually the safest move he could make, since the second the others ran, the death began. He saw a young boy go down by the knife of an unyielding girl. He gave himself a small nod, his simple white shirt clinging to his chest from the sweat that suddenly covered his body. He gave himself one last cursory look at his surroundings before taking off. He ran past the fallen boy, feeling a pang of pity as his hand reached down to yank the bloody knife from his back. He pushed all emotions out of his mind, as his feet never stopped moving. His heart was pounding, blood rushing to his head as he slid the knife into the waistband of his loose fitting track pants, and immediately made his way towards the lakes, knowing that water was his biggest strength. He started off on a full on sprint down the slope, his sneakers sliding on the grass. He used that to his advantage, almost sliding down the entire hillside until he reached the lower lake. Once there, he did a complete circle, looking around for signs of the other tributes. He saw movement and reacted immediately, his body a blur as he managed to disarm the startled boy, slamming his palm into the boys face. He felt bone crunch beneath his touch and felt a strange satisfaction as he almost felt the bone splinters piercing the boys brain, killing him instantly. Once the boy was down, he looked around, his body prepared for another attack. When he saw none was coming, he looked down at the bloodied face of the boy, and again felt a pang of pity he pushed down, before bending down to grab the sword the boy had been carrying. He held the weapon in his hands, the feeling unfamiliar to him. Vlad then snapped back into reality, realizing that he had forgotten where he was, what he was doing, what he was fighting for. He tore the long sleeves of his shirt and fashioned a makeshift sheath, strapping the sword to his back and looking out at the water. He dove into the lake and began to swim for his life. He swam faster than he had ever swum before, tearing through the waves until he reached the falls at the far end. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and the physical exhaustion. He climbed onto the shore and stopped for a moment to regain his breath, before he made his way to the falls, moving behind the falling water, using the falls as cover as he took a minute to relax on the rocks.  

Tuck was ready, his hands were shaking his breath was loud, and his mind was set. He was going for the bow and arrows and anything else he could grab, and then he would run as fast as he could until he couldn't run anymore. Tuck was strong, and he was fast. And he wasn't ashamed to say that he would'nt back down from a fight, even if that meant killing someone who had a family to go back to. He'd made up his mind, he was here to play. He was here to win. He didn't look around at everyone else, he stayed focused on what he want. And as the final 10 second countdown began he braced himself, ready to run. Six, five, four, three, two.. he took a deep breath, ready to pounce right now. Two, one.. He ran, but this was too easy. Everyone else was going for something else, he looked around him. He saw Harley swipe someone in the neck, and then start running. He grabbed up the bow and arrow, and a couple other little things and then started running towards Harley. He took another glance behind him but he wasn't in any sudden danger. He ran, ran, ran. He could tell he was on Harley's trail by the cleated marks on the snowy path. He had on the same outfit as her. He glanced behind him once or twice but he didn't hear or see anything. "Harley!" he screeched. 

Corinne clenched her teeth, watching the steady countodwn of the numbers on the clock. She closed her eyes, trying to find a peaceful mindset, but all she could think of was I'm going to be the first to go and everyone will see it. She'd been told over and over to think positively in training, but god damn it- She was hardly 5'2'' and only a hundred pounds, how much could she really endure? That, and she was easily one of the youngest, despite the fact that she knew she was smarter than a great deal of the other tributes anyway. 43, 42, 41... Fuck, she'd gotten lost in arrogance for a moment there. Every second counted if she was going to survive for any amount of time. Corinne's short hair had been fastened into a french braid, regardless of the fact it didn't pass her neck. Her outfit was a simple black t-shirt and black leggings that clung to her thin frame, a pair of somewhat clunky but manageable hiking boots and a black windbreaker overtop of the t-shirt. It wasn't much for when it got cold, but it would help her and not weigh her down. Black war paint was placed underneath her eyes along with some purposefully messily done eyemakeup, in an effort to make her look older and more intimidating- Most likely a failed effort considering now she just looked like a kid who got into her mother's makeup. 19, 18, 17.. Corinne felt like all of the air in the world wouldn't be enough as she sucked in the biggest lungfuls of air she could get. I want to die remembered, she thinks, squeezing her eyes shut to hold back the tears. I don't want to die alone. Her internal monologue was switching from something like 'hold yourself together, you don't want to be immediately tagged as weak' and 'you'll die anyway'. 10, 9, 8... She doesn't breathe, leaning forward a bit, taking a stance to run as fast as she can. 7,6,5,4... She blinks a few times, furrowing her eyebrows. 3,2...  She takes her final breath before the game. One. Corrine doesn't bother with any of the supplies, she knows enough about finding her own food and water. Instead, she heads the opposite direction that she's facing, sprinting as fast as her short legs can take her; turning around every so often to check behind her back. So far so good, she thinks, but doesn't allow herself to get too caught up in how she'd done so far. It'd hardly been 5 minutes, she had to keep running, keep going, despite the burning in her lungs. She'd never been a runner, but she figured she could do this as long as she stayed focused, kept herself in the zone. And got the hell away from the Cornucopia- She'd seen the bloodbath that tended to happen there. She'd hide it out. Find somewhere discreet and set up shelter. Maybe then she'd just let herself starve, or something. At least that way, it'd be somewhat peaceful. She'd rather die a coward.

Charlie takes deep breaths, listening to the countdown and trying to calm himself. Breath in through your nose, out through your mouth, that's how you get the most oxygen for running, he thinks, feeling his stomach go in and out as his lungs savor the last sixty seconds of air he'll have where he's not technically in a fight to the death. He's wearing a black jumpsuit, almost, with a green bandana tied around his head- his one thing from back home in District 3. It's not relevant, and honestly just makes him more easily spotted, but regardless he keeps it tied on. His shoes weigh hardly anything and they're blue, something he was excited to be given considering his only strategy is to run. He starts to jog in place, trying to remember all the things he was taught over the years- Don't stop moving before a run that's both speed and distance, you can't let your muscles go stiff because it'll slow you down. He doesn't mind the looks he gets from the other tributes, like he's crazy, when he starts to lift his knees up to his shoulders. He ignores the digital voice telling him there's 38 seconds, 37 seconds, 36... Get your heart rate up as best you can, you can't go into strenuous exercise with your heart rate only at  its general resting rate. He doesn't think this is really necessary, considering regardless of a warm-up he thinks his heart might just beat out of his chest from nerves. Nervous energy is good. You can use that; channel that into running energy. He wants to throw up when the voice over loud speaker reminds him there's 25 seconds, 24, 23, 22... If you feel like you're going to throw up or pass out while running, keep running. Keep running if you throw up. Running is about endurance, not skill. He continues to stretch out his legs, picking them up as high as they can, furrowing his eyebrows in an attempt to look intimidating. He doesn't think he looks like the kind of person who could kill you. He's not sure he wants to, despite how essential it may be. Running should hurt. Your legs and lungs should feel like they're actually on fire. When you stop running, you should hurt so bad you want to die. He almost laughs. 'Want to die' might end up being very appropriate in his current situation. At least that way he'd be happy to go. He's completely distracted when the voice gets to three, and he straightens, taking a stance where he leans forward a little and places a leg back, bouncing on the balls of his feet, refusing to stop moving. One. He sprints as fast as he can towards the forest, not letting himself slow down as he feels the slow burn gathering in his legs and the air leaving his lungs. In through your nose, out through your mouth, he thinks again, keeping steady breathing as he navigates around the trees, focusing his eyes on one in the distance. Keep your head up and your eyes on the destination. Looking down only slows you down. It occurs to him maybe a mile after that it probably wasn't smart not to grab any sort of supplies, but he doesn't worry about it at that point. He's sure everything's gone anyway and he doesn't want to risk anything just yet. Even though he's certainly not planning on winning and surviving, he isn't planning on dying in the cornucopia. He'd sort of figured he'd make it past that at least.

Sorta hard to see, but the link might be easier. If I didn't put you in the exact right spot deal with it, sorry deciphering posts while trying to do homework is impossible.

 After a few moments rest behind the relaxing sound of the falling water, Vlad snapped back into action. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before other Tributes came to his area. He left the safety of his hiding place to quickly gather a few branches. He gave the area a quick search, to ensure no one had seen him, before slipping back behind the falls. Once in the cover of the water, he went to work. Within minutes he had both of his sneakers off, shoelaces pulled out, and tied together to create a longer string. After he finished with the shoelaces, he piled the branches on one side of the cave, picking a few choice large rocks to pile ontop of that. Finally he attached one side of the black super shoelace to the opposite side of the cave, and tied the other end around the farthest branch, setting the height at about shin level. Not too high to be noticed, but not low enough to be stepped over. Once activated, the tripwire would pull the branch, causing the other branches to roll out, creating a small avalanche of rocks, that would at the very least, stun an intruder while Vlad could go in for the kill. He took a step back to admire his handiwork. With a smile, he immediately went back to work, pulling a small stick he had found out of his pocket and using the bloody knife to whittle it into a quick hook. Once he finished, he pulled out a small spool of fishing line, attaching the hook to the end of it. His body was tense, his ears open for the slightest sound of the others. Hearing nothing but the familiar sound of water, he moved to the edge of the cave, letting the water fall over his blonde hair, soaking his upper body as he tied the string to a crevice in the rock. He knew from experience that eventually a fish falling over the falls would get stuck on the hook, and he would have dinner for the night. He retreated back into the cave, careful to avoid his trap. Once safely inside, he examined every inch of the cave, memorizing the layout. It wasn't too difficult, the cave wasn't very vast. Once he had settled in, he sat down and pulled out another stick, whittling it down into a fork, for his upcoming meal. 

Wren slowed her pace a bit after what felt like a 4 mile sprint, and just in time because the slope in the direction she was heading in was steep-ening. She cursed to herself as she took a small break. Her throat was dry, her lips were cracked, and she had broken out in a sweat, but she hadn’t heard Lucas’s wren call so she decided to make it, it was safer for him if she did it anyways. She cupped her hands over her lips and made the bird call, waiting for a response, but the only one she got was from the other birds in the forest. She shoved the feeling of remorse away from ever letting her eyes off of her brother, but maybe he had gotten away, somewhere deep into the forest, somewhere that he couldn’t hear her, hiding. He was safe, he had to be. She continued the trek up the steep slope and before long she was tired again and had to stop. She rested under a shady tree and decided to go through her backpack, the first thing catching her eyes was a sturdy water bottle. She reached for it ripping the cap off or it and tipping it above her head but nothing came out, Damn gamemakers, she though to herself, not even nice enough to put water in the bottle. She frowned and went to the next item, iodine to purify the water, some string, a metal hook. She could easily make a make shift fishing rod, or some kind of small mouse trap, she always used to make those in the fields to keep the mice from eating crops, but maybe here she could snare a rabbit or a shrew. The last thing she pulled out of the backpack was something she had never seen up close, a small dart gun with 4 darts attached to it’s sides, sharp as a needle. She reached into the bag when another something caught her eyes, a small bottle filled with a black liquid. Poison. Poison darts, she had poison darts. She slipped the things back in her bag with trembling hands, feeling energized again to continue, she needed to find water and shelter, and the sun was already beginning to set. She reached the top of the slope and she felt the air getting thick with moisture, her throat was begging for the water so she followed it, and found herself looking out at a big lake. She immediately went to the waters edge easily hidden behind a row of cattails as she filled her bottle, downing it three times before filling it in again in case she had to run. She laid out camp in the thick cattails breaking off a branch from a tree near by to make a make shift fishing pole which earned her a small minnow for dinner, not enough to quench her hunger but enough. She decided to make one last Wren call before she would settle in for the night. She received no response.

It’s nightfall, and as tributes you know what that means. The sky becomes dark, the temperature drops, and everyone is trying to get some rest, or at least try to with all that has happened today. As the sky darkens the intercom that broadcasts over the field clicks on with the game makers voice. The sky becomes a giant television screen as it lights up with the capitols seal and then shows the names, faces and districts of those who have fallen. The bright sweet face of the fourteen year old girl from District 4 illuminates the sky, the boy from 5 and 8…and then Lucas from 9, girls from 10 and 11. The faces stop rolling and the song broadcasting over the arena comes to a halt replaced with the silence of the arena. A silence that can only be broken by a scream.

Brielle heard that scream, which sent her into an adreniline rush. She saw the boy she killed's face on the screen. And it gave her a sense of accomplishment. But then she remembered the boy had a sister. A very nice sister. She frowned a little. Brielle hoped the girl didn't know she had killed the young boy, or she'd sure come after her. And the last thing she needed was someone after her. Let alone wanting to kill her. Brie felt like she needed to get otu from under the tree. She felt like a sitting duck. She hated it. Brie crawled out from the hole and swallowed hard. It didn't take her long to climb towards the top of the tree she had been sitting in, and to her surprise she wasn't the only inhabitant of the tree. Her eyes glided over the sleeping girl from 12. Sophie. She had remembered that name. She was dating that boy from 12. A small satsifyed smile as she stared at the sleeping girl. It was sort of sick how much she liked having the power of taking a life. She slid a knife from the pack, her eyes staring at the middle of the girls chest, aiming her target. Brielle slowly , steadily, drew the knife above her head, gripping it tight with both of her hands. Then sent the knife pluning right into the girls heart. She left one of her hands leave the knife to hold onto Sophie's back. Brielle didn't want her to fall off of the tree and make too much noise. She felt the girls last breaths in her palms, and listened to the struggling last breath leave her throat. And again, satisfactory reigned her system, ruling her body as if it were king. She then slid the knife out of her chest and laid her on the branch. Brie wiped the blood from the knife on the girls clothing and slid it back into her pack. Jumping from the tree made little to no noise for dainty Brie. And she took a spot at the edge of the upper lake. Her eyes let her see that there was a water fall in the distance. she could dive down it, and hide out down there. She didnt think anyone was near there, but then again she was one of the first people to book out of the cornocopia. She didn't know where many people were. She opened the back pack and found a cantine, and she quickly filled it before retreating up a tree by the waterfall. She felt like the noise of the fall would give her sort of a cover.

Brock filled a catine full of snow, hoping soon it would melt and he'd have nice cold water in a few minutes or so. He fell asleep in a small cave up the mountain, and woke up to the capitols music. He ran out of the cave, being as quiet as he could. And he stared, watching the faces appear on the screen. The boy, Lucas he watched die. By that gross looking blonde from 3. He found her too evil to be pretty. She was a brat anyways. Not like Brock was a nice guy, but at least he was a people person. The brat was twisted and fucked up in the head. He didn't even take note in remembering her name. But it didn't matter. He checked the cantine he filled up before and took a sip, the water wasn't as good tasting or cold as he thought it would be, thats when he made his first rule, Never expect any good from the recources around here. As he walked down the mountain, only making barely any sound in the snow he thought of more rules. Like, 2. Never fall asleep during the day. 3. Never be too careful. 4. No alliances. He refused to have any alliances. He knew that if he had to pick one, that it'd be the best person he thought would help her survive. And they would obviously make it to the end-his cocky brain talking- and then they would obviously have to kill each other. And he wouldn't want to do that to someone he'd draw close to. Brock quietly make it down the mountain, he thought that he could re-visit the blood bathed area of the cournocopia and pick up a few things for more survival. Little did he know, things would get pretty rough.

Ryder had settled down in a large tree a little ways from the Cornucopia when he decided he wasn’t safe staying in one place for the night. He carried a large backpack full of food, water, and other necessities since he had gotten to the center of the Cornucopia with ease, but he still didn’t feel safe sleeping quite yet… He made his ways through the woods as the temperature dropped; even though his coat was warm he still felt the chill of the wind on his face. He swiftly walked through the woods pausing at each tree to listen for anything, it was dark, but the snow on the ground made the trek a bit easier as his eyes adjusted to the dark. The metal wrist cuff was still attached to him arm, and he nervously clicked it in and out the knife sheathing and un-sheathing it. He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks as he heard someone other then him making there way through the terrain. Although they treaded quietly, he could still here the shuffling of boots, it was clearly a male, since a woman would walk must more swiftly. He slowly fell into step a good distance behind the tribute, stalking him as is her were pray. Every time he stopped so would Ryder, and every time he would continue Ryder matched his footing perfectly so he would not hear. He got closer and closer to the tribute to where he could finally see his outline in the woods, emerging into the open field of the Cornucopia. He stayed in the shadows as the tribute made his way to the center of the field towards the tall gold bounty filled basket. He quietly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small throwing knife. Turning it over in his hands he aimed into the dark towards his target, but he saw that the knife only skimmed his shoulder. “Fuck” he muttered to himself, his hiding spot was now revealed and his attacker wasn’t going to give up as easily as he thought. He should have never thrown the damn knife in the dark, he was better trained then that, how would the capitol one boy be making a fool of himself.

Vlad had already caught a few fish and had eaten them raw, used to spending time on the water with no way to cook their food. With a full belly, he watched the sky as the tributes faces flashed by. He heard a scream and felt a pang of pity, knowing the sound of loss. He shook his head and muttered a small prayer before retreating back into his small fortress. He was just about to get settled when he heard a foreign noise. The familiar sound of falling water was tainted by a strange noise, a human noise. His face broke into a small smile, knowing that the intruders element of surprise was already ruined. He pulled the sword from his makeshift sheath, sliding the knife into his waistband. He gave the sword a few practice swings, trying to establish a feel for it, before he moved into a  dark crevice and crouched down, waiting patiently for his victim.