Garden of Eden

Chapter 11

Water is the next major priority I have once my weapon had undergone a few alterations. Hiking through the woods and wandering aimlessly for water yields no results. I try to look more determined than weary for the sake of my family should there be any cameras trained on me. It's not likely though. Especially if any fights are happening at this very moment. If there is a fight to the death happening cameras will be sure capture it so the Capitol audience is able to watch it live. Sick bastards.

The tranquil arena is so deceptively stunning that it is really easy to forget there are cameras just about everywhere you go. The weather is amazingly warm, with a gentle touch of a breeze here and there. Small puffs of white clouds peacefully glide across the sky and can be seen between the gaps in the leaves hanging high in the trees. The ground many be scattered with death leaves, overgrown roots, fallen logs, crispy grasses, and broken twigs, but under sturdy boots it suddenly becomes as smooth as freshly turned soil. Teeming cicadas and other noisy bugs can be heard from their places in trees and on rocks. Almond-brown towering trees rise up from the ground in every direction. Luscious mushroom of giant size grow under the shady roofs of the woods. And yet no reliable source of drinkable water. Not to mention the possibility of people lurking about with every intention of killing you.

Unable to go on any further I rest once again in the bough of a tree. The bun of my hair is loose and so I retie it into a high ponytail. Sucking on a mint, hoping to subdue my intense thirst, I watch the sunset and the extraordinary range of colours that splash across the sky. A butterfly of exotic shades of blue, black and white flutters beneath my hair and underneath my ear. I suppress a giggle as its paper-thin wings brushes against my sensitive skin. All of the sudden there is a tremendously sharp sting on the side of my neck, as though it had been struck with a red-hot poker. Reflectively, my hand comes up to the source of the pain. There is something small protruding from the side of my neck. Something much like a splinter. The butterfly disappears. I have the sense to pull out the splinter only to discover what looks like a stinger usually found on a bee or wasp. What's going on? Butterflies don't have stingers.

Unsurprisingly the wound begins to bleed. Putting pressure on the sore, I begin to feel a massive headache coming on. The world begins to spin in all different directions. Long shadows casted by the sun leap off their surface and shift into the form of humans. They begin dancing around in a circle. The leaves on the tree suddenly transforms into thousands and thousands of butterflies exactly like the one that had just stung me. Such is my immense shock that I let out a gasp of surprise and squirm uneasily on the branch. Abruptly the world turns sideways and I'm facing the sky. It takes a good long moment for me to realise that I am falling. Just as I come to that realisation my back slams into the ground with a crash, literally knocking the wind out of my lungs.

Lying spread-eagled on the ground regaining my breath, I notice the looming trees begin forming faces. One has red eyes and a mournful expression. Another one has black pits for eyes and jagged teeth. One blink and both the stinging butterflies and the faces on the trees vanish as if from thin air.

As I try to decide whether or not everything I had just seen were hallucinations, vomit begins making its way from my stomach up my oesophagus. As it nears my throat I force myself on all fours before spewing out the contents of my stomach.

Feeling much better already I gather up my supplies and move off in search of another tree, wanting to get away from the foul and putrid smell of mine own vomit. After scuttling up yet another tree, I lean against the sturdy trunk as the moon and stars appear in the distant sky. Bright stars twinkle dazzlingly from behind the gloomy clouds obscuring them from vision. Little winged insects that illuminate in the dark thanks to the tiny light bulb on their thorax add their light to that of the stars in the misty sky. They float in and amongst the trees and try to land on me on occasion. I swat them away, not wanting a repeat of what happened with the butterfly.