Untrodden (Daniella Lamonde by herself....again)

[Dancin]

ooc: ooooh new colour!

Nine left. Eight more to die. I am not going to be one of them. I repeat my mantra over and over again to the point where it begins to lose meaning. The words sound fake and inhuman, just sounds. I don't care really, they still keep me walking in a straight line.

I press the heels of my hands against my temples, trying to massage them. I am jumping at every sound, and my hands are gripped tight around the arm of my mace. Yesterday was way too calm for the Hunger Games, surely I cannot have the same peace two days in a row. The Gamemakers would never allow that, right?

Where my feet touch the ground, the sand skitters away leaving huge noticeable footprints in the ground. Based on that I deduct that nobody has been past this part of the arena yet. I feel slightly less terrified as I think about being the only one here.

Most of this area is nicer than the rest of what I've seen. Stubby grass patches, thick sand and odd colored weeds. It looks like just past the huge fences in 9, on the southern most side of the district. It would almost be pretty if it weren't for the gaping holes in the ground. They vary in shape and diameter. Some look barely big enough to fit my leg and other could swallow up a bear with no effort. Right now they are mostly to my left, but as I travel across this area I will have to do some weaving. Lucky I am so balanced.

I reach into my bag and take a sip of water. I only drink enough to wet my mouth, this water has to last two days. I think of my trap last night, it was empty when I went to check on it. My stomach rumbles feebly and I frown at it.

"Don't be ridiculous, you can last at least another day without food. Go chew on some of that Word." I tell it. I am sure people are beginning to question my sanity. Everybody talks to themselves, it's not my fault I have no privacy.

[/colour][/size]

[Dancin]

ooc: thought I'd shake things up.

It's hard to tell the time of day because the sky is so cloudy, but based on how long I've been walking I would guess it's about noon. My feet are aching beneath me, a grumbling complaint in my shoes. My backpack bounces lightly against my lower back as I move. I wonder if I will have a bruise. My hair is pulled up higher than it was yesterday, because despite the lack of sunshine the arena is still boiling hot. My pants are rolled up as high as the cuffs will allow and my sweater is shoved messily into my bag. A single sweat bead runs down my face and off the end of my nose, landing somewhere in front of my shoe.

I glance around myself, getting progressively nervous as the gaping holes in the earth become closer and closer together. I taek the risk of peeking into one and my stomach gives an uneasy heave. It's pitch black in the cavernous hole and when my foot dislodges a rock it echoes down for miles. Just thinking about the drop gets my heart beating faster.

"I'm doing this for you Nick. You better be glad when I get home." I say to the air with a tired chuckles. I wring my hands together lightly, twitching the corner of my mouth as my joints give a satisfying crack. I shoot a look to my left, gauging my distance from the huge hole on my left when it happens.

The ground beneath me gives and uneven roar and begins to crumble. First slowly, like sand through the eye of a needle but picking up speed. Before I can truly process what is happening the ground beneath my feet is collapsing. The scream that tears itself from my mouth is neither human nor conscious, it's like a reflex, a reaction from my soul. I try to leap for the edge, but it's too far and I am too late. My skin feels a hundred degrees cooler instantly as the air rushes past me, bringing stinging tears to my eyes. I shoot downwards into the darkness, ten, fifteen maybe twenty feet and then come to a jarring halt.

Pain sprouts from the skin under my arms. My backpack caught on something, and the straps managed to hold up under the duress of my weight. (ooc: is that the correct usage of duress?I don't know, lemme know.) All the air has rushed out of my body from the fall and I take a shaking breath, coughing as the air hits my ravaged lungs. Every inch of me feels like it's been stabbed, even my teeth and I can't stop my hands from shaking.

Somehow, I manage to turn myself around slightly, and grip tightly onto the jagged rock wall of the hole. The stone cuts slightly into my skin, but I cling to it with all my might. Slowly, and more careful than I have ever been in my life, I begin to climb up the tunnels face. I can hardly see the rocks, but with the adrenaline pumping so loudly through my body I am moving soley on impulse, reaching out into the darkness for a handhold that I can practically sense. It's painful and painfully slow, but little by little I manage to worm my way to the surface. My backpack is still on my back, thankfully and I don't think it tore open.

When I finally reach the top, my fingers curl over onto the grass I had been standing on not long ago. I pull up untill my arms up to my elbows are fully on the ground and then I swing my legs up and launch myself back onto solid earth. As soon as I am in no more danger of falling into the pit, I roll away, uneven and clunky. I lie on my stomach, with my face pressed against the earth and sob into the patchy grass. Tears pour down my face from fear and relief, and my body is shaking so violently I can't even roll of my face. Sobs stab at my chest and I am covered in sand and cave-grime.

"I don't want to do this anymore." I moan, the words nearly unintelligible. My heart is throbbing, and not just because of my fall. These games just hurt too much, they have to end soon. No more, please no more.

[/size][/blockquote]

[Dancin]

I have no idea how long I lie on the ground. Falling in the pit lost any sense of time I had found. All the moments in the tunnel had seemed like years but at the same time seemed to fly by. My stomach is still rolling, and my entire body is covered in a thin grimy film. I think it's from the rocks, but I couldn't be sure. My hands feel raw, like a dog has been chewing slowly at the skin for days. I feel like a corpse.

I wait until my stomach settles and my eyes dry before I budge even an inch. I push myself up to my knees and then skitter a few more feet away from the hole. It seems like the two holes that had been on either side of me had connected, trapping me in their crossfire. I stare out across the rest of the stretch of land. I nearly faint at the concept of going back out into the forest of holes again.

Forget it, I'll double back. I don't really need to go to the forest anyways. I have water and plenty of supplies thanks to Evan. I glance dejectedly at my scraped palms and wish I had taken his gloves off before he was take out of the arena. That's awful. He meant more to you than that. I tell myself, but I'm really not sure. Thinking about him now I consider him my best friend, other than Nick, but what does that really mean here? I always knew one or both of us would have to die, and I was okay with that. I let myself care about him, which brings forth the question, did I actually care about him, or did I just care about the strategy it gave me in the game.

My palms start to sweat and my headache returns. I can't think about this right now. Unless I win it doesn't really matter. I wipe away the tears threatening to spill over my lashes again. No more crying, it gets me nowhere.

Gritting my teeth against the exhaustion in my body I swing my backpack to my front side and rip open the zipper. I pull out Evans...no my, sunscreen and smear it haphazardly across my arms and face. It mixes with the black grime and create an ugly face, but I could care less. I take a huge swig of water and run damp fingers through my hair. I glance back towards the geyser, and it explodes with a faint hiss. I glance to the section just past the geyser, a place I told Evan I would never go.

"Acid lake, here I come." I mumble, still not moving from my cross-legged position on the ground.

[/size][/blockquote]

[Dancin]

ooc: Oh man this took a long time to figure out. Newfound respect for Dee or anybody who does crazy colour stuff.

Hold Me
Like The River Jordan
And I Will Then Say To Thee
You Are My Friend

It takes me about fifteen minutes to actually get to my feet, I am still vibrating subtly and every time I think about the yawning earth behind me my entire world seems to pitch and wobble beneath me. I secure my pack over my shoulders and pick up my mace again. Luckily, when I fell, it tumbled out of my hands and lodged just below the edge of the hole. I wonder briefly how long I would have lasted in the games if I had lost my only weapon. Not long. I shake of the thought and move forward.

Once my feet are moving it's like a perpetual motion machine. I no longer control it, I am simply being taken along for the ride. My pace is constant, not even the bumpy terrain taking effect on my stride. I try to keep alert to my surroundings other than the ground, but frankly it's hard.

As time passes it becomes clear to me that whatever was lining the hole was not particularly friendly. I develop a hacking cough and the few times I manage to lift my sleeve to my mouth it comes away dusted in black. The sunscreen paste seems to be congealing on my arms, and in the places where it's slightly more concentrated my arms are starting to break out in hives. In addition to my scabs from yesterday's acid rain. I'm certainly not the beautiful one anymore.

As I walk I let my mind wander. I manage to think of things outside of the arena, something which I am grateful for. At this point it is probably the only thing keeping me sane. I touch my neck and feel Evan's cross, a memory tickling at my brain.

I'm young. Seven maybe. My father is sitting in the main room, reading a thick bound book intensely. He glances up at my approach and smiles. I clamber up onto his lap, touching the worn pages of the book with my small palm.

"What is this?" I ask him, turning to stare up into his bespectacled face. My father smiles again, wrapping one arm tighter around me.

"This is a book that used to be very important." He tells me, his voice softer than usual. I nod slowly and lower my tone to his level, asking the most common seven-year-old question.

"Why?" This question seems to bother my father. He pauses and sighs, looking at the words on the page for an answer.

"Because, when people are scared or sad, they need something to give them hope. Something that will always give them hope. And this is what that book did for people."

[/b] I stare at the book, a new light dawning in my eyes. This book was important. I slid off my fathers lap, pulling the book with me and curling up on the floor. I open the book to a random page near the beginning and read some of the words.[/colour]

For many are called, but few are chosen

The words don't really make sense to me, but I can feel their weight in my brain, on my tongue against my fingertips. I flip to another page and read again.

Great men are not always wise

Unable to help myself I flip to a new page.

Love is patient; love is kind
and envies no one.
Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude;
never selfish, not quick to take offense.
There is nothing love cannot face;
there is no limit to its faith,
its hope, and endurance.
In a word, there are three things
that last forever: faith, hope, and love;
but the greatest of them all is love.

Passage after passage, page after page I devour the words, until in the course of four days I have read the entire, enormous book. I go to my father, asking more questions.

"What is faith?" I ask, I had heard the word before and it occured so many times in the text that I wanted to know more.

"Faith is when you believe in something, no matter what people say is true. The thing you believe in doesn't have to be perfect, this book in front of you isn't completely perfect, it just has to be perfect to you."
[/i]

Thinking of his words now, I wish I had payed more attention to them. Evan had told me that his mother was religious, and I assume from the stories I remember that her bible was the one I read as a child. Something else surfaces to my mind as I ponder this. Not a bible passage, but something my mother used to sing to me when I was even younger. The tune is foggy and clouded in the back of my mind, but the words are there, burned against my eyelids as I think of her. [/colour]

Everyone's Taking Control Of Me
Seems That The World's
Got A Role For Me
I'm So Confused
Will You Show To Me
You'll Be There For Me
And Care Enough To Bear Me

In my memories of the people I have let into my heart, and the strength they give me when I want to give up, I will find all the faith I need to win these games. [/size][/blockquote]

[Dancin]

ooc: letting people who don't know, know. This is Daniella's last post for a week. Also keep your eyes open for the HP reference in the post. ;P


At the pace my possessed legs set, it doesn't take long before the big holes are behind me and the sparsely scattered tunnels now are more like rabbit hole.

"Don't go down the rabbit hole!" I say to myself in a sing song voice. With my new found strength and increasing distance from my near death experience, my chest feels lighter every step I take. It's easier to see my place in the games clearly now. Nine of us left, maybe even less now. I have a chance at this. What I had thought was impossible is slowly coming into focus.

I can win the Hunger Games. The end is so close it doesn't even seem possible. Have I really only been in the arena four days? It seems like it could have been years. Evan was only my friend for three days, but I feel like he knew me better than some of the people I have known since birth. I guess that's what desperation, fear bring to people. I guess there are just some things you can't go through without becoming friends afterwards.

I pause for a moment, glancing at my surroundings. I don't know what kind of game would choose to live in this area, but I might as well try and get some food. I extract the wire, and the water out of my bag, take a swig and begin to set a trap.

[sets trap]
[dice=2]

I put the water back in my bag and my finger brushes Carson. A smile crosses my lips. If I win the Games, he's coming with me. I pat the smooth stone and zip up my bag, walking away from my snare. No animal is gonna pass by with me right there. I find a sizeable lump in the ground and prop myself up against it, allowing my body to relax.

It occurs to me that the giant hole may have been the handiwork of a gamemaker. I actually hope that it was, then they could leave me alone for the rest of the day. That was enough action for the day. I don't sit for long, I want to get to the acid lake by night fall. I clamber to my feet and brush the dirt off my clothes. I take a few deep breaths and plow onwards.

Nine left. Eight more to die. I am not going to be one of them. I am going to win the Hunger Games.

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