Garden of Eden

Chapter 13

The volcano in question is very much active. Hot red lava spew over its edge and slowly makes its way down south. Huge trees fall at the touch of lava while grass scorch and burn.

The horrible screams full of anguish and pain continue and it is clear the tributes who have camped in what they took to be the safety of the mountain have only just discovered the truth.

More trees fall. As they continue to do so birds nesting there take to the sky at amazing speed. No trees now drenched in lava had previously been scorched by fire, for volcanoes only shoot fiery boulders at a far range from what I remember from what little we learnt about active and dormant volcanoes in school years ago.

Fortunately, this part of the arena seems to have taken the worst of the volcano. Now, it seems, the carnage is on the other side. The screams of agony are like those of wounded animals; loud and prolonged.

I grind my teeth hard, setting my jaw taut, as the screams continue, and focus with great difficulty on the immediate surroundings. Taking advantage, for the first time, of such heights and allowing myself a somewhat birds-eye view of the arena.

The volcano is far to the left. The golden Cornucopia remains miraculously unscathed on the meadow that stretches for miles in front of the active volcano. Several large smouldering boulders lay in the meadows, creating massive black patches here and there. Looking further on and the woods are nothing but a splintery mess every which way. Trees that looked hundreds of years old have been reduced to fine kindling.

To the right and more woods continue stretching out as far as the eye can see. The wildfire has finally stopped but now most of the trees have either fallen or stripped bare and black. Looking straight-up I judge the time to be one or two hours after noon based on the actual position of the blazing sun.

The smell has got to be the worst, though. If it had just been that smell of smoke, ashes, and soot I could simply close my eyes and fool myself into thinking that I am back home in Twelve. However, in the air in addition to those three smells is the underlying smell of burning meat. Whether it is just that of animals too slow to outrun wildfire, or whether it is something else completely, it is more the unknown that makes me feel slightly sick when the smell reaches my sensitive nose.

I'm more than a little reluctant to head back down for fear of what may still be there. I can still remember the smoke bringing tears to my eyes and the very heat of the fire seeming to singe and lick the exposed skin of my arms and neck.

Almost as though to calm myself down and prove to myself that I am safe, I inhale deeply once. Waiting for five seconds I finally release my breath slowly.

Just as I finally begin to relax, basking in the warmth of the sun and fresh open air, a violent rustling of leaves causes me to snap my eyes open in an instant. There is the sensation as of my stomach dropping at the sound. I remain silent as a grave.

The rustling becomes too insistent and loud to ignore. Steeling my last ounce of nerves and strength I duck back into the thickness of the trees.

I'm able to barely make out the outlines of small objects making their way at alarming speed through the trees several feet below. My initial thought was that the golden squirrels are back. But then my rational brain quickly registers that these darting figures are slightly bigger than even the Capitol squirrels.

A whole new level of panic begins to build at the unknown until the figures past beneath me, seemingly uninterested in me in the slightest. As the last few make it from tree to tree I am able to glimpse black and white fur and a long black tail. From what I could make out of them, they looked to be capuchin monkeys. I breathe a sigh of relief and continue calming my nerves. Right about then, a cannon sounds from off in the distance.