I bolt like lighting towards the centre of the cornucopia, flinging my arms out to retrieve the axe I had set my sights on. Once my fingers get a tight hold around the dark wooden handle, my eyes begin to dart around looking for threats. There just so happens to be one right in front of me. A large brunette boy I recognize to be from District 7 comes barrelling towards me. He's from District 7, which specializes in lumber, so it would make sense that he would want the axe too. But not today. It's like he's a bull and I'm a matador, so I do what matador's do best. I side step. The boy tramples past me, running so fast he makes a whooshing noise when he face plants on the dirt. 

Someone else takes him out, I don't see who but my guess is one of The Careers, not that it really matters anyways. I spy a large orange backpack sitting next to my foot, and heave it over my shoulder. Good thing too, because if I hadn't a throwing knife would have landed in my back. I spin around and see a girl with mousy brown hair I think belongs to District Three, but I'm not sure. 

As a result of her attempt at murder, Cato sends a sword into her stomach. 

Thanks I mouth.

Keep going He mouths back.

Will do

I do just that, running around grabbing a few other supplies until everyone has either fled, or been killed, but The Careers of course. Quite the morning it's been. 

I clench my fingers a little tighter around my axe and approach the group of deadly teenagers carefully. Clove looks me up and down, a small smirk embroidered on her face.

"So you're with us then?" she asks, already knowing the answer. 

I merely nod sharply at her. 

"Well then, let's get to work." She turns sharply on her heal, facing the forest and beginning to strut towards it. The rest of The Careers followed suit, and I followed shortly behind them. 

Clove takes up the front, Marvel and Glimmer on her heels and Cato and I dragging along the rear. Or more, I'm dragging and he's nudging me along beside him. I nearly jump out of my skin when the first cannon goes off. Cato laughs quietly, and if we weren't in the middle of world's deadliest Super Bowl, I might've elbowed him, or told him to shut up, but we are so I do nothing but count the number of canon booms. 

7. . .8. . .9. . .10. . .11

11

Eleven tributes, eleven human beings, eleven kids gone in under ten minutes. It sends a shiver up my spine just how quickly and easily lives can be lost. 

"You okay?" Cato's voice is low enough that I am the only one who can hear it. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." I mutter. I'm not fine. I doubt even if I make it out of here I'll ever be "fine" again.  However, having someone ask still seems a comfort despite who it is. Despite they're a Career. Despite they're my enemy. He nods and we keep walking. 

"What are we doing?" I ask quietly. Out of all of them, it seems odd he's the only one I trust given he's probably the deadliest, but I'll cling to what little trust I have.

"Hunting." His voice is missing the note of excitement I was expecting, the one I assume most of the other members of the pack would have when describing the murder of innocent children. In fact, if I'm not wrong his voice almost carries a note of sorrow. 

He catches my gaze as it wanders over is face in wonderment. I look away quickly, giving my head a quick shake and focusing on the manmade paths of trees in front of me. Clove struts through the arena, apparently not knowing or caring that other Tributes could be literally anywhere. I guess her confidence is something I could admire, but instead I think it's more of an arrogance thing than a confidence thing. 

We make it through the day without trouble, luckily (for me anyway) we didn't find any other Tributes and no more cannon shots are heard. We have begun setting up camp, Clove, Glimmer and Marvel are hunting, leaving Cato and I to collect fire wood.

It's odd how when you join a group, voluntarily or not, all the "they"s become "we"s. The "them" to "us". People back in Twelve used to tell me I dwell on things too much, but my mother always said it made me insightful. I'm not quite sure which to believe. 

I crouch on the ground, heaving whatever logs and sticks I can find onto a pile beside me. Cato is keeping watch, making sure no one tries to kill me while I am vulnerable. Of course, I don't completely trust Cato just yet, but I will have to trust that he won't bring his sword down on my back while I bend down. 

"This good?" I ask, gesturing to the fairly sizeable pile of wood next to me. He nods, picking it up and handing me his sword to carry while he carries the wood. Either he has trust that I won't  kill him, or he trusts he can knock me out with a piece of that wood before I can so much as scratch him. Either way, I don't make any sort of violent actions, minus maybe accidentally squishing a couple of ants underneath my feet. Probably for the best, there's no way they're real ants, so they're probably here to hurt me just like everything else in this damned arena. 

When we returned to our spot our bags had thankfully not been stolen, but there was no sign of Clove, Marvel or Glimmer. Cato dumps the wood into a pile, and I quickly run forward to arrange it into something that would actually light without burning down the whole forest. 

I quickly strike up a fire, something my father taught me how to do when I was still a little kid. Within the minute, the other three members of the Career Pack come stomping out of the woods, not looking overly pleased. 

They carried nothing but two small birds, and what might be some type of lizard. All were immediately handed over to me, given none of them had studied plants back in the training centre, and where I grew up I was well familiarized with nature, whereas they grew up in what are both pretty much industrial, murder theme parks.

None seemed to be poisonous, so I began to cook them over the fire. We traded off cooking, tending to minor scrapes and bruises, and washing in a near by stream we had found until it got dark out. I had gotten back from washing when I remembered the small orange backpack I had grabbed on my way out of the Cornucopia. 

I reach for it, gesturing for the others to do the same, and quickly tug on the small metal zipper and open the pack. 

Inside I find a small pack of crackers, something I will most likely need to ration depending on how much food we find here, an apple, an unfortunately empty water canteen, and a strange pair of what look like sunglasses.

"Cause I'm gonna have need of sun glasses, so I can look cool while murdering children." I mutter, shoving them back inside the backpack along with everything else. Marvel smirks, seeming to know something I don't. 

"If you don't want them, I'd be happy to take them off your hands." he says casually.

Cato glares at him. "They aren't sunglasses," he speaks. "They're night vision glasses, they're supposed to improve your vision."

I nod at him in thanks, sending a small glare of my own Marvel's way. All was quiet for the next little while, everyone else went through their backpacks, I went down to the stream to get water for my canteen and then proceeding to filter it. I was beginning to think it might not be such a bad day, no killing, no stealing, quiet. But then I saw smoke rising in the distance. And where there's smoke there's fire.