Blaine awoke, blinking sunlight out of his eyes. He sat up slowly, looking down at the knife in his hands in surprise for a second before remembering where he was.

Standing up shakily, he stretched, gasping as his sore muscles unlocked. Rolling his shoulders back and jiggling his arms and legs, he cautiously stepped out of the cave. Seeing and hearing no one, he stumbled down to the river, washing his face and splashing water onto his arms and neck. The icy liquid woke him up in seconds and he reentered the cave, readjusting the branches that hid its mouth from the world.

Blaine straightened his clothing, brushing the dust from the cave’s floor off of them before slipping back into the black gloves and his black jacket, buttoning it securely. Knowing he had to look put together for the audiences and the sponsors that were hopefully considering endorsing him (sponsors can give the mentor money to send the tribute an item the tribute really needs or food or water etc. The more fans, the more sponsors, the better your odds of winning) so Blaine combed his hair back with his fingers, happy that it responded due to York’s care and excellent hair cut.

Feeling significantly refreshed Blaine leaned against the wall, looking at the ceiling and watching the small beams of sunlight dribble through the small holes. So peaceful. So quiet.

He closes his eyes gently, breathing in the moist air, trying to recreate Kurt’s face from his dream: The bright blue of his slanted eyes, the smooth porcelain of his skin, the slope of his perfectly shaped eyebrows, the pale pink of his lips, creases on his cheek when they turned up in a smile. But it was only a picture, only a memory interrupted by remembered screams of pain and panic.

Blaine exhaled and reopened his eyes, sorting his thoughts. He had water, someplace to hide, some food. Now all he needed was a plan.

Thinking fast, Blaine reopened the black pack, ripping out the large tag on the side. It was roughly the side of a piece of paper. It was crumpled and worn and slightly wet but he carefully removed it and smoothed it out.

With the scorched end of a branch from the small fire he made last night, Blaine carefully listed out the names of the tributes, and set the paper aside, planning to cross out the names of the dead when the information was projected around the arena in the evening. Safely tucking it under a rock so it wouldn’t blow away, Blaine rose again, emptying the black pack and then refilling it with a canteen of water, some of the crackers and the sheath of knives. Not much but he wanted to travel light.
Reattaching the spear to its straps for quick use, he tucked the long blade he always has on his side into the inside of his jacket, Blaine pulls on the pack, ready to emerge into the arena to look for more food or something to keep warm.

He brushes away the branches and steps outside the safety of the cave. His heart instantly starts to beat faster and with shaking hands he makes sure the cave is well hidden before walking away, heading down the stream.


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Morning passes and goes, the sun rises high into the skies and sinks slightly until it is late afternoon. The entire day was an absolute success. The pack on Blaine’s back is now much heavier, carrying great amounts of berries and nuts and herbs that he recognized along the way. The bag also has the meat of two birds and a rabbit he managed to hunt down (after a significant number of tries). He had skinned them and wrapped the meat in some fabric he tore away from the inside of the bag. It was easy. Much too easy.

Mood light and heart hopeful, Blaine kneels down to wash his hands in the icy cold water, singing quietly to himself, “You make me feel like I’m living, a, teenage dream, the way you turn me on. I can’t sleep let’s run away and don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back…” He shook his hands watching with a smile playing on his lips as the drops flew off of the, and back into the stream and then out of the silence, the snap of a branch.

Blaine leapt up and spun around, eyes looking into the thick foliage behind him, looking for the source of the noise within the trees. But only silence…

There it was again, but from somewhere else.

Blaine clapped his hand over his mouth so that whoever it was couldn’t hear him breathing heavily. Hazel eyes scanned the trees again. And again.

Another snap.

A cough.

Watching the base of the trees Blaine suddenly saw what he was looking for and dreading: a black booted foot peeking out from behind a trunk. Not waiting one more second Blaine spun on his heel and ran, jumping across the stream and racing into the trees on the other side.

“Come on! He’s getting away! Run!” A voice shouted and suddenly Blaine heard multiple splashes and the thuds of many footsteps as the Career pack charged after him.

Blaine sprinted, weaving in and out of the trees, glad that the pack was still secure against him. A root blocked his path and he tripped over it, feeling the breath leave his body with a whoosh as he landed on the forest floor. An arrow whizzed past his ear, nearly missing him and Blaine felt the adrenaline kick in again. Rising with a wince, he started to run again.

“Faster! We’re losing him!”

“Holy shit that hobbit is quick.”

“Damn fast fairy.”

“Come back here princess! We won’t hurt you!”

Voices laughed behind him but Blaine focused on his running, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest.

He continued to run through the trees for what seemed like forever, weaving in and out and changing direction to lose his pursuers. After some time, Blaine heard the shouts of the Careers fade into the distance but he kept running.
Finally he slowed, stumbling unsteadily to a halt. He was still for a minute, straining to hear any hint that his hunters were still chasing. But all that came back to his ears were the sound of crickets and the breeze that whistled through the trees.

Blaine let out a small laugh. He survived. He got away. Blinking the sweat away from his eyes and running his fingers through his damp curls he regained his breath, head feeling light. After he caught some of it back, he looked around.

He was in a small clearing at the base of one of the mountains, large rocks littered around him. He scanned the clearing, the rocks, and the trees for any sign of danger. Hazel eyes carefully flicked around, all senses on full alert.

Suddenly his eyes focused on something and Blaine took a hesitant step forward. Ahead was the carcass of a deer. After assuring himself that there was no danger Blaine sprinted forward, unable to contain his excitement. He knelt beside the carcass, overjoyed that it was still fresh. The possibilities spun in his head: the meat that would last for days if not weeks, the fur used as a blanket or bandages. Just as Blaine was about to pull out the long blade from his jacket to begin carving the carcass like the instructors has taught him in the training centre, he had a lingering thought that brought him down to reality:

What killed it?

Snuffling broke through the chill air and a low growl emanated from behind him.

Oh.

Blaine turns around slowly, holding his breath and his eyes widening in shock. A large, abnormally large, grizzly bear, blood still fresh on its snout was lumbering back into the clearing. Its large saber-like claws clicked against the rocks and its yellow teeth were as long as a man’s index finger. It looked large, formidable… and hungry.

And Blaine was standing between it and its kill.

Exhaling softly, Blaine stepped away from the dead deer, backing away slowly.

But it was too late.

In a space of seconds the animal was charging. Blaine turned to run but the monstrous animal covered the space between them with a couple long strides and suddenly Blaine was thrown to the rocky ground, shouting in pain as sharp claws ripped through his shoulder and back.