Young Writers Society

District Two has never been my favourite place. Since I could walk, I have been meaning to escape the confines of its grey walls and drab society. Sure, our architects are the best in all of the districts and yes, their designs are masterpieces worthy of hanging in exhibitions in the galleries of the Capitol, but that is exactly what makes our lot so sad. While the Capitol gets to enjoy our district’s brilliance, we who live in the place where these geniuses are born, we must, like mangy street cats, be content with the scraps that are thrown to us, seeing as any architect who shows promise is always spirited away.

Alas, it seemed my dream would forever remain unfulfilled, as one is destined to remain in the same district from the moment one is born to the moment one dies. I could not even relate with the others from my district, as I have always been scrawny and preferred nature’s elegance to man’s “civilisation”. For this, I was often mocked.

And so, I trudged through the miserable streets as always I did, but for once, I noticed something odd: A fine young lady was pinning something to the wooden notice board in front of the dreary city hall. She clearly did not belong in District Two, for she was beauty incarnate; everything about her, from her beautiful dark brown hair to her skin, white and delicate as alabaster, transfixed me. Only after she had left did I emerge from my reverie and hasten to discover the reason behind her visit.

It was as if she was heaven-sent. Like a true angel, she had come as an answer to my prayers, for what she had pinned onto the notice board was an announcement – it read that the land’s first ever Hunger Games would be held at the beginning of the following month. What did it matter that the name was ominous? The opportunity of finally going on my very own adventure had at last presented itself! Needless to say, my name was the first to appear on the list of people who wished to contest.

More mockery, even more spiteful than usual, ensued, but nothing could quench my optimism, especially when I was selected as one of my district’s four tributes! I had, of course, entered not knowing what would be demanded of me were I to be selected. A month later, standing on my platform, I knew exactly what would be demanded of me.

Upon emerging from the holding chambers beneath the Arena, I was slightly confused. The whole time I had been preparing for what I would do once the Games had begun, and yet, when the time for action was upon me, there I stood, like a deer in a car’s spotlights. That thought sped me to action. Without further delay, I sprinted towards the centre of the Arena – towards the Cornucopia.

I am not the best of athletes, so how I had managed to reach that metal saviour and simultaneous death-bringer before anyone else, still boggles me. I did not reflect upon the idea for long though; a second thereafter, the others had joined me.

I ducked just in time to miss the swing of an axe, and I countered by kicking my assailant in the groin. While he was recovering, I glanced at the five objects of variable use in front of me: the lamp of what appeared to be a food genie, an unknown, lavishly dressed person, twelve inches of rope, a black cloak and a tan and black German Shepherd.

I spoke to the dog, but not in English, lest the other tributes have the ability to confuse him, at least to some extent. No, instead, I spoke to him in a different language. Later that day, I dubbed him Daniël (pronounced Daar’–knee–uhl), but at that moment, I simply ordered him to “Kom!”

I poked the same tribute which had previously attempted to decapitate me, in the eyes, stunning him once more, and, among screams of assailants and victims alike, I sprinted back to from whence I had came. The violence of the Blood Bath was only the beginning of everyone’s fight for survival, and I knew I had to prepare.

I ran deeper into the temperate forest which was the Arena, until the only sounds I could hear were my own and Daniël’s breathing and footfalls. Hardly taking the time to catch my breath, I collected a suitable rock and some branches.

With the rock, I peeled off the bark from one of the branches and sharpened the end of it. Meanwhile, I tossed the other branches into the brush for Daniël to fetch. It was not casual playing, no; German Shepherds are the third most intelligent dogs in the world, and the most aggressive to boot.

It was training.

Daniël instinctively ran after the branches, but I told him, “Bly!” He would then sit down and look at me until I said, “Gaan haal,” after which he would return the thrown branch. I repeated the process several times until he automatically sat and awaited my command.

I then threw the branch once more, but this time I threw my makeshift spear in the opposite direction as well. I pointed at the spear and issued the command. Daniël quickly mastered that exercise too, so I exchanged my spear for the rock. Soon, Daniël was fetching anything at which I pointed, even when I had not thrown it. I was amazed at the speed at which he learned my commands – he must have been one of the finest dogs the Capitol had ever produced.

My next task was teaching him to attack. I happened upon a cluster of birch saplings while I was searching for a suitable target – fortunate for me, but not so much for the saplings.

Animals are very sensitive to body language, so I adopted a pose of aggression towards one of the saplings. Adding my intention to the tone of my voice, I hissed, “Val aan!” and pointed at the unlucky birch.

Daniël met the slender sapling with vehemence, easily snapping it in half and then still ravaging the remnants.

Eventually, I needed only whisper the command for Daniël to come down upon whatever was misfortunate enough to be at the end of my gaze. I affectionately stroked Daniël as I viewed the ruined and bleeding birches.

It was then that hunger gnawed at me, so I decided to forage, cautiously, mind you. I came upon some nightshade. Completely aware of the toxicity of its berries, I plucked some of the glistening fruit and made as if I intended to eat it. Daniël growled at me softly, but averted his gaze and whined when I looked at him. In a fit of ecstasy, I praised him – I had a dog which could smell poison! After that, I ate some blackberries, feeding Daniël some as well, and pocketed the rest for later. The deadly nightshade I placed on a stump in the middle of a clearing, in full view of any unwitting tribute.

It is very important for one to stay hydrated, so I retraced my steps back towards the pool I had seen earlier. The water was safe to drink, so drink it I did. I then peeled off the bark of an ash and chewed it to a pulp. The pulp I then mixed with water and smeared it all over the parts of my skin someone was most likely to notice, providing me not only with camouflage, but also masking my scent from any other animals that could have smelled me. Bark-pulp is also mild enough not to be too obtrusive, like wolverine-scat would have been. In addition, I smeared my clothing with mud and moss, so as to further improve my camouflage, but as I am not an expert on the topic, I could not do much more. I also had to besmirch Daniël, though he did not like it much.

The light was beginning to wane, so I searched for a suitable shelter. Before long, I spotted cluster upon cluster of alders. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw it was a bog. I searched out a shallow bank and, hoping the Capitol had excluded any leeches from the Arena, buried myself in the filthy sludge, making sure my head was in such a position that it would not be noticed, but that I could still breathe.

I gave Daniël the order to keep guard, “Hou wag,” which I had taught him earlier that day; in doing so, I could get as much sleep as I could whilst having muck invade every inch of my body, without having to worry about being killed in my sleep. Luckily, I am a light sleeper, so if anyone were foolish enough to wander about during the night, Daniël would pick up his or her scent, alert me, and together, we’d dispatch the unwitting tribute.

While I was lying there, drifting away despite the mire, I realised how attached I had become to Daniël. Without him by my side, I would surely not have survived as long I have, not only because of his steadfast watch, but also because of the comfort his loyal companionship provides.

He is the only soul I can trust.