Wolves getting ready for the bloodshed. Fright crawls up their spines like tiny parasites. I can’t shake the fact that I will either die or survive.
I feel my heart pounding inside of my tightening chest. Missiles of sweat drop from my forehead. We scatter in all directions. A man spits a warm, crimson-red substance at my face before he dies. A jagged knife the source of his death.
My eyes can’t believe what they are witnessing. I smell bloody carcuses freshly killed by a fellow tribute. Body parts blown up in every direction you can think of. The fumes of the dirt and gunpowder engulf me like a tidal wave.
I hear screams coming from the opposite the way I am running. Are my ears deceiving me? Is this really what I am hearing? I don’t care. I must keep running. Past the other tributes and the pool of blood. Hearing those innocent teeanagers killing each other makes me angry. I hate these torturing battles that go on for days, all for the entertainment of the Capitol, but alas, I must keep running.
Through the forest I shall go between the trees and through the bushes. A frightened boy I am, yet strong and agile.