Heaven is Falling (The Hunger Games x Male Reader)

The Horn of Plenty

I'm jolted awake by the sound of a canon.How long have I been asleep? Four hours? Five? The tip of my nose is icy and the sky is still dark, but I can feel the first signs of dawn approaching.

Someone is dead already?

That would mean there are people on the move to hunt for more victims, most likely a career or a group.

“Move,” I whisper to myself. I wriggle out of my blankets, roll them up, and place them in the pack.

I’m about to take off when I think of my snares. Maybe it’s imprudent to check them with the others so close. But I have to.Too many years of hunting, I guess. And the lure of possible meat. I’m rewarded with one fine rabbit. In no time, I have cleaned and gutted the animal, leaving the head, feet, tail, skin, and innards, under a pile of leaves. I’m wishing for a fire — eating raw rabbit can give you rabbit fever, a lesson I learned the hard way.So I light up a fire with the stones lying around. Even tough it is morning there is a chance someone might track me  from the fire's smoke, so I let it burn lightly. I cut up the rabbit, fashion a spit out of branches, and set it over the fire.

I hope there are cameras on me as I want sponsors to see I can hunt, that I’m a good bet because I won’t be lured into traps as easily as the others will by hunger. While the rabbit cooks, I grind up part of  the charred branch and set about camouflaging my yellow backpack. The black tones it down, but I feel that a layer of mud would definitely help. Of course, to have mud, I’d need water. . .

I pull on my gear, grab my spit, kick some dirt over the fire, and take off. I eat half the rabbit as I go, then wrap up the leftovers in some leaves for later. The meat stops the grumbling in my stomach but does little to quench my thirst. Water is my top priority now.

The sun rises in the sky and even through the canopy it seems overly bright. I coat my lips in some grease from the rabbit and try to keep from panting, but it’s no use. It’s only been
a day and I’m dehydrating fast. I try and think of everything I know about finding water. It runs downhill, so, in fact, continuing down into this valley isn’t a bad thing. If I could just locate a game trail or spot a particularly green patch of vegetation, these might help me along. But nothing seems to change. There’s just the slight gradual slope, the birds, the sameness to the trees.

Determined to go on until nightfall, I walk until I’m stumbling over my own feet. Exhausted, I haul myself up into a tree and belt myself in. I’ve no appetite, but I suck on a rabbit bone just to give my mouth something to do. Night falls, the anthem plays, and high in the sky I see the picture of the girl from District 8.

Morning brings distress.Dehydration has finally caught up to me. My head throbs with every beat of my heart. Simple movements send stabs of pain through my joints. I fall, rather than jump from the tree. It takes several
minutes for me to assemble my gear. Somewhere inside me, I know this is wrong. I should be acting with more caution,moving with more urgency. But my mind seems completely foggy and forming a plan is hard. I lean back against the trunk of my tree, one finger gingerly stroking the sandpaper surface of my tongue, as I assess my options. How can I get water?

Return to the lake. No good. I’d never make it.
Hope for rain. There’s not a cloud in the sky.
Keep looking. Yes, this is my only chance.

I'm so deep in my thoughts I don't even notice a silver parachute descending towards me.In my exhausted state it takes me a second to figure out what's happening.

Haymitch!

That's right how could I forget he can send me water with a push of a button I must have sponsors, at least one or two who could afford a pint of
liquid for me. Yes, it’s pricey, but these people, they’re made of money. And they’re probably betting on me as well.