I wake up with a jolt, finding I'm curled up into a ball. I'm still in the desert, and the bright midday sun burns my skin as if it's right next to me. When I look at myself, I realize I'm sunburned. 

I'm not surprised. I'm in the desert, and have been for- how long? I don't know. But of course I'd get sunburned. 

I slowly, carefully get up, noting that next to me I have my ax, and nothing else. Not any food, water, or anything else I might need to survive. 

My stomach rumbles, and I sigh. I'm probably not going to get much food. Maybe, just maybe, I could find some sort of animal out here- but it's a slim chance. 

And the only other option I have is to search for other tributes, and steal their food. But with the condition I'm in, they'd definitely catch and kill me before I have the chance. 

I assess my injuries. There's a gaping hole in my shoulder that I have to look away from. I can barely move my arm, and my vision is starting to blur from the pain. 

There's another wound on my leg, which seems just as severe. And a thin cut on my hand stings like crazy. I know I'll barely be able to move with only one hand and one leg to go by. There's no way I could manage to steal anything from anyone. 

I probably couldn't sneak up on a deaf sleeping bunny, in this state. 

So basically, I've got no chance. I can't hunt when there's nothing to hunt, and especially when I can barely move. I can't really do anything except lie here and try to tend to my wounds. 

I choose the latter. If I want to stay alive, I'll have to try to treat myself. Even if I'm a horrible healer, I'd be better than nothing. 

I sit up carefully, making sure I don't get sand in any of my cuts. Then I rip off long strands of fabric from my outfit, and tie them around my shoulder and leg. 

I can imagine what I'd look like from the capitol's view right now, and it's not good. Most likely my hair is matted and sandy, and coated with a layer of dried blood. I know my skin is red all over, and peeling in places. I'm splattered with even more blood, and the ripped jumpsuit really just completes the look. 

I manage to crawl over to a nearby rock and stand up, leaning on the rock for support. My leg hurts so bad I want to throw up, but of course I don't give up. Maybe if I pretend I'm strong enough, pretend I'm brave and not absolutely terrified, then someone will sponsor me. It's a long shot, but it's all I've got. 

I stand still for a few moments before I start to get impatient and decide to move around. I repeat the same mantra over and over in my head: If I don't do anything I'm going to die. If I don't do anything I'm going to die. 

Maybe it doesn't seem like it would help, but the words seem to push me on, giving me a small boost of energy as I attempt to climb the endless dunes. 

And after a while, I find something. It's been so long under the hot sun that I feel like I've shed twenty pounds from sweating and hunger. My tongue feels dry in my mouth, and I can barely move anymore. 

I stumble over the rolling hills of sand, trying to see what's in front of me. It's hard though, with pain and hunger and thirst clouding my vision. 

And after a while, I see small smudges of green and black appearing in my vision and stop in my tracks. I can hear their voices, now that I'm listening for them.

There's two voices, one female and one male. They sound like they're arguing. Maybe that's a good sign. If they're mad at each other, they might not notice me. 

I blink a few times, trying to clear my vision. It works, sort of. Now I can see the basic outline of the two tributes. One of them is holding something like a scrap of fabric or paper in her hand, along with something small and shiny. 

I squint, but the sun gets into my eyes and I have to shield them with my hand for a few seconds before taking another glance. 

My gaze shifts to the sun that's slowly reclining behind the soft waves of sand. Maybe I'll try to go out and steal their food while they're asleep, under cover of darkness. 

Yes, I'll try that. I may not have a good chance, but this is my only option. 

I move backwards a bit, to a spot where I'm sure they can't see me. I watch the orb of light slide behind the dunes, painting the sky with shades of orange and pink and purple that I'm sure would be breathtaking if I wasn't slowly starving to death. 

The tributes notice the sunset and start settling down for bed. They don't seem to be worried about anyone killing them in their sleep. 

Which I'm not going to do. Right? It would be so easy... and then there'd only be six competitors left...

I shake my head, clearing the thought from my head. I'm not going to kill unless it's absolutely needed. Maybe I was that person when I went into the games, but I've seen my friend die because of someone ruthlessly killing to win. I don't want to be that person. 

If I did become that person, I know the guilt would be overwhelming. When I go on the victory tour, if I win, I'd have to see the families of the children I murdered. I don't think I could handle that.

If I ever return home, I'll always be the outlier, the one who betrayed them and killed my fellow district tribute. They'll all hate me, not just my mother.

I shiver at the thought. I'm not even sure I want to go home now. Well, I was never sure I wanted to go home. Not back to my mother, that's for sure. She'd probably kick me out of the house I won. 

Maybe if I win I could run away to find my father and sister. I would be happier living with them, at least. 

I make up my mind. If I win, I'll go and find them. 

I peek over the dune I'm on. The silhouettes have curled up on the fabric one of them was doing something to earlier. That's smart. Then they don't get covered in sand. 

Wow, I wish being dirty was the least of my worries right now. Lucky. 

I start down the hill, trying my hardest to be quiet. But I let out a few squeaks when I step on my foot the wrong way, sending a spike of pain shooting up my leg. Thankfully, they don't hear me. 

I grab a few bread rolls and a canteen of water before starting back up the dune. I try to restrain myself while I'm still in hearing distance, but once I'm far enough away I pull the cap off the bottle and pour half of it into my mouth before I can stop myself. 

I silently curse my instincts. I'm not as thirsty now, sure, but I need to save that water. How else will I clean out my cuts?

I walk away from their campsite, and off into the night. I try to ration my food and water, only letting myself have a small bite of food after every fifty steps. But still, before I know it, my food is all gone. 

Thankfully, my vision has all but cleared. I can see better now, and so I pour a little bit of water on my cuts, trying to rinse the sand out of them. It seems to work well enough, and soon they're not stinging as much.

I finish off the rest of my water, and soon I'm feeling much better. I re-wrap my bandages and look around me, thinking on what to do next. 

The sand dunes seem to be ends in every direction. I don't see anyone. 

Wait. Unless...

I squint into the distance, and can just make out a small figure racing in my direction. Panic shoots through me, and I stumble back a few steps. 

Then I see what they're running from. 

There's a wall of sand that seems to shoot up miles high, and it's gaining on me rapidly. As I watch, the person flies by me, not even stopping to glance at the tribute they just passed. 

I try to get a good look at them, but all I can see is that she seems to be female-shaped, with pale skin and hair that flies behind her like mist.

I assume she must be one of the other female tributes, though I can't remember their names. 

I look up at the wall that seems to be looming above me, frozen in fear. 

I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. 

I leap towards the nearest thing I can use as shelter: a small boulder that could barely shield me from a slight breeze, but it'll have to work for now. 

I curl up into a ball, protecting my head with my hands and closing my eyes as tight as they can. 

The sandstorm runs into the rock with a whoosh, and then everything is sand. 

Sand whips my face, my hands, my feet. It creeps into the rips and tears of my suit and makes me generally uncomfortable. 

It even manages to find its way into my mouth and nose. I imagine my snot filled with sandy grains, and then push the image from my mind. Ew. 

Something hits my head hard, probably a rock flying around, and I pass out, the blackness devouring my life.