Голодные игры

           Ipickmytreecarefully.Awillow,notterriblytallbutsetinaclumpofotherwillows,offeringconcealmentinthoselong,flowingtresses.Iclimbup,stickingtothestrongerbranchesclosetothetrunk,andfindasturdyforkformybed.Ittakessomedoing,butIarrangethesleepingbaginarelativelycomfortablemanner.Iplacemybackpackinthefootofthebag,thenslideinafterit.Asaprecaution,Iremovemybelt,loopitallthewayaroundthebranchandmysleepingbag,andrefastenitatmywaist.NowifIrolloverinmysleep,Iwon’tgocrashingtotheground.I’msmallenoughtotuckthetopofthebagovermyhead,butIputonmyhoodaswell.Asnightfalls,theairiscoolingquickly.DespitetheriskItookingettingthebackpack,Iknownowitwastherightchoice.Thissleepingbag,radiatingbackandpreservingmybodyheat,willbeinvaluable.I’msurethereareseveralothertributeswhosebiggestconcernrightnowishowtostaywarmwhereasImayactuallybeabletogetafewhoursofsleep.IfonlyIwasn’tsothirsty.

           NighthasjustcomewhenIheartheanthemthatproceedsthedeathrecap.ThroughthebranchesIcanseethesealoftheCapitol,whichappearstobefloatinginthesky.I’mactuallyviewinganotherscreen,anenormousonethat’stransportedbyofoneoftheirdisappearinghovercraft.Theanthemfadesoutandtheskygoesdarkforamoment.Athome,wewouldbewatchingfullcoverageofeachandeverykilling,butthat’sthoughttogiveanunfairadvantagetothelivingtributes.