This is a story through the eyes of Foxface. Her real name is Finch, but I decided to change it to Amber since I don't really like that name.

Chapter 1 Edit

I hold my terror in, waiting.

The countdown is at thirty. My eyes scan the arena. The woods are obviously stocked with more surprises, but they are by far the safest biome.

The Career tributes are all ready to run.

Twenty-five seconds.

I spot a decent-sized pack about halfway between the plates and the Cornucopia. At home, back where we produce power, for maybe ten of my fifteen years, I used to run back and forth between the factories to send messages.

I have practice, so I'm exceptionally fast. Next to the pack lies maybe three knives, and on the other side of it, a package that can hold anything.

Fifteen seconds.

The girl from Twelve (Katniss Everdeen?) is planning on heading towards the bow, definitely. She seems to know what she's doing, so I think I might follow her.

Ten seconds.

I position myself without moving my legs, and hope that the bloodbath isn't too violent. The sight of blood makes me nauseous.

Five seconds.

My ears have shut down. Now my vision is tunneled towards what I need.

The gong sounds, and I race forward. The weaker tributes are either stumbling, being attacked by stronger tributes, or rushing towards the woods with small packs.

I snatch the pack from the ground and grab two of the three knives. I'm reaching for the third, but the boy from One is coming already. I stumble forward to grab the package, but it slips in my hands.

The boy from One -Marvel, I think his name is- grabs the knife and throws it at me. I duck, but the blade sticks into the ground before me.

Marvel doesn't have any more visible weapons, so I snatch the knife and head for the woods.

Once I'm into the foliage, I slow into a jog. Suddenly, I crash into something hard and fall back into the ground.

It's Katniss Everdeen. She looks as scared as I do, and her eyes widen. We both make movements as though to attack, but I know neither of us really wants to.

We both scramble to our feet, and I instinctively run in the opposite direction as Katniss.

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