Opinions and Truth - The Last Hunger Games

I am situated in a dark forest; the only sounds to be heard are a soft hoot of an owl and the slow and steady buzz of some kind of insect. Straight ahead of me is a wide river where I can see rapids tumbling downhill through the dark and thick forest. I feel peaceful and very content with my surroundings until I notice that the trees overhead seem to cast black shadows on the water, making it look dangerous and deadly. I look around cautiously, my skin prickling with unease and I scan the perimeter, searching for something of threat. Once I’m sure that I am safe, I edge my feet slowly towards the river. The long grass brushes against my skin making it itch and I peer down curious as to how my skin is showing. I seem to be wearing a black, tight and waterproof material that is covered in large slits and holes. Through each hole I can see bright red and open flesh and I yelp as the flesh begins to burn and sting.
“Ouch” I yelp and then I jump scared, when the empty forest magnifies the small sound into something very loud. And suddenly, I have a feeling that the forest is no longer empty. The owl hoots suddenly cut off as well and a dark shape falls at my feet. I look down, only to stare into the still hazel eyes of a large and cold owl. I stifle a gasp as I look up and see an outline of a large boy in the tree. I recognise him as Jake Jameson, a seventeen year old competitor and he smiles evilly as where I really am registers in my head. I stagger backwards, tripping over a large root and I land on my back, my breath knocked from my lungs. My legs sear painfully as a shower of dead insects fall from the sky and land in the wounds, probably causing infection. Above me, in the trees, more competitors gather, moving like apes and clinging onto tree limbs. I see Maddi perched on the edge of a branch, poised as though for flight and the small ginger boy, Elliott Maisen, behind her with a short knife in his hand raised above her head. Zevran May drops to the ground from another tree to my left, followed by a large group of males and the spread out, moving like predators towards me.
“NOOOO!” I shriek loudly and I scramble to my feet, shielding my face with my arms when to my surprise the competitors’ bodies change shape into plumage and wings and they all take flight into the air, diving back down towards me, sharp beaks pointed straight towards my face…
I know where I am. I’m in the arena.

I jerk sharply back to reality, my eyes snapping open. I almost expect to see the mutated face of Zevran May peering down at me, his beak glistening and sharp at my neck. Luckily, however, all I see is the darkness of the room and I breathe a short sigh of relief, as I extend my arm towards the bed lamp. I haven’t realised my arm is shaking until the light snaps on and shines on my pale skin. With the light banishing the darkness, I pull myself up shakily and look around the room twice, double checking for any mutated bird beings. I find the area empty. Relief spreads through my veins and I lean back trying to loosen my tense muscles and relax. I don’t know why I’m so on edge. It is only a dream after all. No, not a dream- a nightmare is a more accurate word to use in this situation.
I don’t dare closing my eyes again in case of more nightmares, and feeling too restless to keep still in bed, I climb out and find my new favourite dressing gown. I pull my hair up into a bun and wipe a hand across my face, imaging wiping away my drowsiness. There’s hardly anything to do, so I pull my open notebook towards me and pick up a new pencil. I hate blunt pencils. They always make whatever you write look thicker and larger than you intend. I pause before writing, pondering what next to write. I’m finished with my weaknesses and strengths. For some reason, I have no desire to go into more detail about my skills. Instead, I feel an urge to write about people. And so I do.
My pencil wanders over the paper, dotting down each competitors name from memory. I struggle on the last names, but try hard to remember anyhow. One thing I’ve learned from watching the past Hunger Games is that you should never underestimate the underdogs. That’s exactly what they are; they are dogs. They bite back, and sometimes their bite can be fatal. Once I’ve remembered all the competitors, I hesitate again. What I want to do is to work out my fiercest competition. Like before, I make lists (God, lists are really coming in handy. Who would think?). The first list I create, I title Top competition. Immediately, I add Maddi to the list. I know her so well, that I know that underestimating her is a big mistake for the other competitors. She can swim very well and she can climb too, as well as her skill with a bow and arrow and the spooky way she can blend into any background with her still body. I’ve seen her stand as still as a statue for two hours straight. She had been doing a fund-raising event, where she’d been covered in glitter and had stood still as a statue in the Capitol Square to raise money.
Next to add to the list is Pedro. Once again, my knowledge of Pedro’s ways gives me an advantage. Pedro is really clever- when he wants to be- and this wittiness can turn out to be very sly. It would be just like him to lead everyone into one large trap and then kill them off like ants. Or even just watch them kill themselves off anyway. Again, Pedro prefers to use a bow and arrow, the reason for this being that he is a total nitwit with spears and swords. He also cannot run, which is one of the reasons why I would never ever become an ally with him. And this leads me to another problem – allies. What with Maddi being my best friend, we are probably expected to just wordlessly become allies. But is it really that simple? I mean, it would be good to have someone to watch my back and someone to watch their back for but when I run, she would never be able to keep up. Mads is a good runner, but well, my experience leaves me totally out of her league. The best thing to do, is to just begin by ourselves. One advantage from that is that none of the other spectators will target us because a group of two is a big threat. Another advantage is that in the beginning, the best thing to do is to stick with your skills and save yourself from the fray of war rather than having to find your ally, grab some stuff and travel at the same speed or go the same direction as that person. After the beginning, well maybe we might find each other and ally. Or maybe we might not. Maybe one of us will perish. No, this isn’t the way to think. I shouldn’t assume we will die.
Another name is added to my list now. Zevran May. I don’t know whether it’s the frightening version of him in my dream or the way his bottomless black eyes searched my face at the Reaping that makes me wary of his abilities but either way, I put him down as a fierce opponent.
I’m just about to add another name to the list, when a sharp ringing fills the room. I drop the pencil, caught off guard and look up to the source of the noise. As quickly as the ringing began, it halts and in replace comes a loud booming voice.
“Good morning competitors,” says the voice and I glance at the clock that shows the time 7:00 am. Well, this was an early good morning. “Today you must rise early. Breakfast may be ordered through the control panel above the bed.” A small, mechanical noise sounds from the bed and a control panel materialises in the wall. “Please report to the Training Hall at 8:00 am to begin your training for the Hunger Games. Thankyou.”
I yawn loudly as the voice finishes speaking. It seems we are already starting training. They don’t usually begin training until after the first few days where the competitors talk tactics with their Mentors. But we don’t have Mentors, do we? I guess we’re expected to sort out tactics for ourselves. It should be easier anyway. As for the early training, I guess they don’t expect Capitol children to have much experience in fending for themselves. Well, they’ll have to think again.