(Pretend the trees in the pic are black lol.) So apparently 10 minutes is actually more like 2 hours, oops :x Sorry guys. BUT ON THE PLUS SIDE: UPDAAAATTEEE. I have been meaning to update this for so long it's ridiculous, but I'll admit I had a bit of writer's block towards the middle of this chapter. (Gah!) Also I apologize if my sentences aren't the best in this, but I tried to make this chapter longer than I usually do because you guys are just too awesome and deserve it. Seriously though, I can't thank you guys enough for the sweet comments I get on this story (you know who you are ;) ) They motivate me to continue this story and it seriously just makes me so incredibly happy :) But omg nearly 900 reads!!! YOU GUYS ARE SO FREAKING AMAZING I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!! But anyway, I'm sure you are wanting to get past this crazy author's note (whoa, it's weird calling myself an author haha) so I'll say goodbye. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE CHAPTER AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! :)

Chapter Eleven

                         My pulped feet quietly pad down the dry leaf forest. As far as I know, the only benefit to not having shoes is being able to tread lighter on your feet. My breath escapes into faint little puffs in the still air. Over the horizon, I can just barely make out the last cluster of trees, disappearing into the unknown. I casually rub my sandpaper tongue along the roof of my mouth as I weave my way in and out of the clinging aspen. I'm surprised the Game Makers haven't punished me for my easy escape yet. Usually by now the audience will get bored of the tribute and want some action. Unless there is some greater battle going on to distract them...

As if answering my thoughts a scream sounds in the distance, followed by the ritual boom of the cannon. A shiver runs up and down my spine. Could it be the boy from Seven...? The thought briefly flickers through my mind and is immediately dismissed. The scream sounded like a girl's...

I count the remaining tributes in my head. That leaves...thirteen including me. I suck in a breath.   That's nearly half of the tributes killed in just twenty-four hours.

Three hours later, and the only progress made is the sun. It hangs in the baron sky like a light bulb, casting a dry glow on the cadaverous arena. My raw feet ache beneath me while my stomach gives a hollow growl for food, in addition to my head swimming in dehydration. You could say I was having a bad day. But I suppose it is better than being dead...I hope...

Eventually, I end up sitting at the base of the tree, too tired to look for water. In all of my life, never have I walked so far in a mere day. The longest walk for me back in District Four was the occasional trek down the line of beach looking for greater places to fish when business was slow. Being the Capitol, they always grew bored of the types of seafood we carried in—it seemed as if every other month they wanted something more exotic and exciting, something to test their taste-buds. And so, the person who found the most exotic species of fish that month would be given a small reward and sent back to work. Unfortunately, my family was never one to receive the jackpot. Although at least we were able to have food on our table every night, even if it was the same cooked fish every month. That is another thing that I have never truly experienced. Hunger. They call it The Hunger Games for a reason I suppose. Never in my life have I felt this hungry, let alone thirsty. Most viewers think of the Games as a place where a kid gets slaughtered at the hands of a fifteen-year-old, but really, the most deaths are at the hands of nature and pure lack of elements.

When I open my eyes, the sky is a pastel pink and the sun has just slipped behind the horizon. Disappointment washes over me as I feel another pang of hunger. I was kind of hoping it was just a bad dream....I push past the emptiness in my stomach and immediately scold myself for falling asleep, let alone in such a vulnerable place. My eyes dart around the forest more out of instinct now than fear. I take a moment to consider my options: either stay here and sit the night out or move on and search for food. Here's the catch though, it is common for many of the tributes to...hunt—for lack of a better word—at night, especially the career tributes. A moment later I am slinking through the trees towards the dying sun. I wrap my jacket tighter around myself with a shiver. The shade of the trees spilling into the forest is like being submerged into an icy pond. My cold, pummeled feet lead me around the corner of a cluster of trees—and freeze. Two dark figures are treading through the leaves in the distance, their backs facing me. I recognize the voices immediately.

"Just a bit further." Nine whispers firmly.

Seven whines in response. In an odd way, I am a bit happy to see them still alive, it's kind of a nice company to have... I quickly brush off the thought of Nine slipping around me and slicing my throat before they stop walking.

"Here should be good..." Nine trails off as he kneels to the ground. "Hand me your pack." I suck in a breath and make myself as small as possible behind the thin knot of trees as Seven quickly glances around him before handing his accomplice the limp pack.

"You sure about this, Tri?" Seven asks wearily.

"No," Nine—or Tri—takes the backpack without looking up, "but it's the safest place for now." He begins digging into the leaves.

"But how are we going to find it?"

After examining the hole, Tri lays the backpack in the hole and piles the leaves on top of it and smooths it flat. "We are going to put a sort of...landmark near it." He makes a few meticulous adjustments to the now indistinguishable layer of leaves before standing back up and admiring his work.

Seven follows Tri to an aspen nearest the buried pack. Nine pulls out a concealed dagger from under his shirt and makes a tiny notch in the tree, just barely visible if one is looking for it.

Thankfully, the two walk a ways in the opposite direction of me and discuss where to sleep for the night. I look up at the sky to see that the sunset has finally given way to the night spewed with stars. At least now I have the benefit of camouflage amongst the black trees. After a brief pause to make sure Seven and Nine are farther away, I resume stepping through the forest. A good fifty minutes must have passed when my stiff muscles finally tell me to give up. I drop down beside a tree, my mind still spinning with energy while my body yearns for rest. I think back to the training sessions in the Capitol less than a week ago. Wow. Less than a week ago I was at the Capitol. It seems like months. —When that doesn't work, I go back to my home to one of the many lessons my father had taught me. Go downhill—eventually you will find water. I look around despite the dark landscape. As far as I am concerned, there is no hill here. I try to scour for more resources in my mind but it comes up blank. I clench my teeth in frustration and press my head against the base of the tree. And then a thought so completely obvious I have to smack my forehead comes to me. Trees. Trees are plants. Plants need water to survive. One thing I did learn in District Four was that the softest places were the closest to water. (Or something of the sort.) I spring to my feet, drop to my knees and begin pawing the ground in search for a soft spot in the earth, all the while scolding myself for such ridiculous stupidity. Five minutes later my hand sinks the slightest bit further into the leaves and I frantically begin digging into the ground, my heart pounding now not with fear, but excitement.

My arm is elbow deep into the leafy floor when my hand touches something more than just cool, something damp. My breath catches in my throat and despite my aching arm I claw deeper into the leaves. At last, beneath the dozens of layers of dry and decomposing leaves, I find water. Well, not quite water, but in my eyes it was practically an underground lake. After a brief moment considering just how, in fact, I could possibly gather such dampness from the soggy remains of the leaves, I peel off my jacket and grab hold of one of the sleeves. My arm reaches down with the sleeve and begins to soak up as much moisture as possible in the fabric. I resist the urge to just stick my head in and suck it up with my tongue, but one: the hole is too small for that (or is my head too big..?) two: as much as my throat aches for water, I'm not too fond of a mouth full of soggy leaves, and three: I would at least like to retain some of my manners while in the Games...I pull out the sleeve and without a moment's hesitation squeeze the damp fabric into my mouth; the bitter soil-water drips into my parched mouth and I can't help but whimper in relief in the moonlit night.

. . . . . . . . .  

I sit down at the foot of a tree, exhausted. A long trek through a forest without food and little water can make one quite tired. The cool earth feels relieving against my aching feet and I rest my head against the bark. Above, an indefinite candy blue sky weaves itself between the skeletal branches of the black aspen. A wisp of cloud glides across the dizzy expanse, crumbling apart after mere seconds. A faint chirp of a bird is heard in the distance. I breathe a sigh. Such beauty does not deserve to be in a place of such horror. The bird chirps again—and is suddenly cut short with a sickening cry. I jerk my head from the tree. Indistinguishable voices cheer at the capture. I leap to my feet and dart my eyes across the thick forest. A sudden movement of brown sleeve slipping between the dark trees catches my eye. I feel my pulse quicken beneath my thin jacket. Frantically I look for a place to hide. Climb a tree? Maybe...I'm not that good at climbing though...hide in the leaves? I don't have time....run? Too much noise on these dry leaves...All of a sudden I hear a familiar voice a ways behind me. My heart leaps into my throat. Oh God. I'm cornered.

On the plus side though, I still had about twelve seconds before the boys from Seven and Nine and the group in front of me spot me. Without a second thought, I bend my knees and jump, grappling for the black branch above me, meanwhile praying that nobody sees me. My feet scream in protest as the branches dig into my bruised, swollen toes and heels and my fingers, tired from last night's water-digging extravaganza, shake as I pull myself up further. The sun peaks through the few branches that float above me. I risk a glance down beneath the layer of branches. It is a poor hiding spot, yes, but at least I am above ground...unless they have a bow and arrow...or a spear...or just good aim...I freeze and make myself as thin as possible behind the tree when I hear a gasp below me.

"Don't say a single word," Tri whispers to Seven, his voice just the slightest bit shaky. By now the two are beneath my tree, staring just across the land. In front of them, a mere ten trees away is a small pack of tributes. I try to focus on the tributes in the group instead of on my heart trying to beat its way out through my throat. I recognize the girl from District One immediately. Elastine, the abnormally tall girl who looks like she has not worked a day in her life yet carries the eyes of a full blooded killer. Beside her is the other half of District One. Tyveck. Behind the two are two other tributes: a boy and a girl. The girl is carrying the dead bird in one hand and a thin, metal spear in her other, the tip just sheened with blood. Tyveck suddenly stops in his tracks and nudges Elastine, motioning towards Nine and Seven with a shift of his head.

And then War broke out. 

Gotta love Cliffhangers :D don't worry guys, I hope to update it really soon (like this week) now that the story is starting to get closer to the climax. (But then again I say that every time I update aha...) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! What do you think will happen next? WHO DO YOU THINK WILL DIE?? :0 Feel free to comment your thoughts :) byyyeee

~Ninjafranbow