Голодные игры

           Thereisasolutiontothis,Iknowthereis,ifIcanonlyfocushardenough.Istareatthepyramid,thebins,thecrates,tooheavytotoppleoverwithanarrow.Maybeonecontainscookingoil,andtheburningarrowideaisrevivingwhenIrealizeIcouldenduplosingalltwelveofmyarrowsandnotgetadirecthitonanoilbin,sinceI’djustbeguessing.I’mgenuinelythinkingoftryingtore-createFoxface’stripuptothepyramidinhopesoffindinganewmeansofdestructionwhenmyeyeslightontheburlapbagofapples.Icouldsevertheropeinoneshot,didn’tIdoasmuchintheTrainingCenter?It’sabigbag,butitstillmightonlybegoodforoneexplosion.IfonlyIcouldfreetheapplesthemselves.

           Iknowwhattodo.Imoveintorangeandgivemyselfthreearrowstogetthejobdone.Iplacemyfeetcarefully,blockouttherestoftheworldasItakemeticulousaim,Thefirstarrowtearsthroughthesideofthebagnearthetop,leavingasplitintheburlap.Thesecondwidensittoagapinghole.IcanseethefirstappleteeteringwhenIletthethirdarrowgo,catchingthetornflapofburlapandrippingitfromthebag.

           Foramoment,everythingseemsfrozenintime.ThentheapplesspilltothegroundandI’mblownbackwardintotheair.