* WARNING: This is the hunger games. Graphic depictions of violence between children and teens may ensue. Yes I know my warning changes every chapter.*

Keep on moving, never stay in one spot for too long. That was Pluto Ryder’s plan for the games. Keep on moving and you don’t become a sitting duck, waiting to be hunted and shot. Cautiously walkthrough the arena, weapon in hand, only stopping at night to eat and sleep. He hadn’t had much to eat. Last night's dinner is a measly pack of unsalted crackers and one stick of stale beef jerky. His body was getting weaker, with the constant movement not helping him. He was an already frail and weak boy, despite his strong personality. He needed food to survive, that's why he was moving towards the cornucopia.

There were six tributes left. Six, that’s it. He had somehow survived through a week of the Hunger Games, but another tribute wasn’t the only way to die. The arena was a baron of all food since day one, he knew this. And during the earlier feast, he had only managed to grab the small amount of food in Galve’s backpack. Yet it was almost down to the final five. They had to have another feast soon, they wouldn’t let them just starve. These games were all about revenge. They wanted a show. Maybe at the final five, there would be another feast, probably at the cornucopia . If he staked out by the cornucopia, maybe he could get in and out when the feast inevitably came, avoiding violence.

And so Pluto continued down the street, keeping close to the buildings. The spiked club was slung over his shoulder like he was a soldier cautiously looking for the enemy. He scanned the whole area as he went along- it is just like the rest of the city except for the trees at the end of the street. At the end of the desolate gray street was a grove of trees, the vibrancy, and lushness like a mirage in the desert of silver towers and marble homes. Pluto treaded towards the grove, aware the cornucopia would be just beyond it.

    As Pluto got closer to the grove he began to feel uneasy, a pit forming in the base of his stomach. He looked into the lush grove of trees, it seems a lot deeper and darker than he had previously remembered. Who knew what could be hiding amongst the thorns and thickets. Pluto looked in, goosebumps climbing up his bony arms. He shook his head, shivering despite the newfound warmth of the arena. He looked up at the sun, a malevolent nocturnal eye against the blue sky. The snow had all melted away by now, the arena transforming from a winter wonderland to a land of tar and concrete.

    Pluto took a deep breath and began to walk into the field of trees, going against his the rock sitting in his gut. He needed to get to the cornucopia as soon as possible. For all, he knew the next cannon could go off any second and the feast announced.

    He made his way into the winding groove, it feels more like a deep dark forest, like the ones in fairy tales. He knew it wasn’t that big, but it felt foreboding nonetheless. Thickets scraped against his arm, and burls got caught on his bootlaces. The rock in his stomach continued to form into a boulder, weighing him down. He felt the trees watching, their low hanging evergreen branches reaching out to him. He stopped, taking in another deep breath. The hairs on the back of his neck calmed down as he continued to tread through the weeds. He continued to walk until his boot had pressed down into the grass, something snapping under his feet.

Click

    He knew he had made a mistake as soon as it had happened. He stepped back just as soa glint of silver fired from a group of bushes, whirling past his head and impaling itself into a nearby tree, exploding in a shower of wood splinters. Pluto’s head whipped towards the bushes before running. He ran forward deeper in the forest, the thorns cutting his legs and getting caught in his clothes. The pit in his stomach finally exploded in a rush of adrenaline, his heart racing faster than his legs. He continued to run until the weight of his body doubled and he crashed to the ground. He rolled into the dirt and mud, face planting into the ground. His club flew from his hands into a nearby thicket, cracking its branches in half.

    Pluto looked up, another boy at his side, knife in hand, it was dripping with blood. Pluto quickly got up, touching his shoulder. His fingers came back crimson red, a shallow slice in his back. He raced to his feet, the other boy shortly following. He didn’t bother to look back before sprinting for his mace. He thrust his hand into the thicket, fishing out the weapon before running again. Blood dripped from his back, warm and wet, into the grass. Twigs snapped beneath his boots. He heard similar sounds from behind him. The pursuit continued.

    Pluto sprinted through the grove, almost through it. On the distance was right outside of the grove was a bright green hill. Beyond that, the cornucopia. He ran forward, the trees around him thinking and spacer than before. But then he heard it again as he ran. The soft click of a trigger. The whistle of metal cables racing of the air, the snapping of wood and the sound of blood being splattered onto nearby leaves.

    Pluto screamed as a sharpened wooden pike swung from the nearby thicket and impaled through into his leg. Blood splattered into the leaves as Pluto looked down, dropping his club. The pike protruded through his thigh and out the other side. He pulled back, the rugged tip of the wood, getting caught and ripping through more flesh. He whimpered. Hyperventilating he dropped to his knee, the sound of his pursuer right behind him. He struggled, trying to figure out how to move, but before he knew it he felt cold steel pressed against his neck. He began to rapidly breathe, a figure moving in front of him, holding a small knife to his throat. The other boy was smaller, skinnier and younger than Pluto. With deep-set green eyes and fox-like hair, he knew it was Park Crawley.

    The air was sucked out of Pluto’s chest as he looked up at the boy standing over him. Park's intelligent eyes darted about Pluto’s body, fluttering at the bloody wooden spike protruding from his thigh. Blood rushed down Pluto’s leg, dripping into the grass. Pluto’s eyes began to well with tears as he made eye contact Park, who furrowed his eyebrows taking in a deep breath.

    “I really don’t wanna kill you,” Park murmured, in an unexpected mature voice. “I’m sure you know that you seem intelligent- enough,” he continued, as Pluto continued looking at him, his eyes occasionally glancing at the spiked club, lying in the grass by his side. He stayed vigilantly silent. “I- I just need this to end. I won’t last much longer here, neither will you…  You’ve never used that weapon in your life” he said motioning to the weapon in the grass.

    “C’ mon… Just let me g-g go, please,” Pluto whimpered, his eyes raised at Park, the cold knife still pressed into his neck. Park stayed silent, glaring at Pluto, analyzing him. Pluto wriggled about, trying to maneuver off of the trap, searing pain shooting through his body.

    “One shot to the head and you’ll die right away,” Park observed, his eyebrows furrowed. Pluto could feel the knife pressed to his throat gently shaking. He looked up at Park, innocence flashing through his eyes. He pressed his lips tightly together, before taking in a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, the knife suddenly raised to the sky, glimmering with sunlight. He lashed it forward as Pluto screamed, thrusting his body to the side. The pike tore through the muscles in his leg as he moved, then Park’s knife penetrating his shoulder. Pluto fell to the ground, his leg impaled on the pike. Hot tears streamed down his face, as pulsating waves of pain radiating deep within his shoulder, the black handle protruding from his shoulder. He pressed his hands into the warm soil, forcing himself up as his whole arm was engulfed in pain, the blade ripping from his body. Pluto glanced up with bloodshot eyes at Park, who held the knife, now bright red. His eyes glowed with determination. Park looked at him, spotting a  figure in the distance. A black blot against the bright sky.

    Another stab, once again in the shoulder. Screaming and more screaming as he struggled, his hands grappling for the blade, fingers slippery with blood. They struggled for the knife embedded in Pluto’s shoulder, tearing through his flesh. He looked up the figure on the hill once again. The blade ripped from him again. Gasping in pain, his eyes shot up at Park as he felt the warm splatter of blood across his face. His blood.

    Park had the knife raised again in a second, sworn to deliver the final blow. Pluto made eye contact with the boy for a brief second, the figure on the horizon is darker and closer. Park rose the crimson blade and whipped it through the air. Pluto clenched his eyes shut in anticipation, as a sharp whistle filled the air followed by Park’s scream. Pluto’s eyes shot open, watching as Park looked in horror at the silvery arrow impaled into his arm. Pluto’ blood pumped as his hand shot for the club to his side. Grabbing it with a bloody hand, and swinging it around his head with tremendous strength he slugged the weapon, colliding with his target. The club cracked into Park’s head as the whole world went silent.

    Pluto watched, as Park’s flaccid body stood there, the club’s spikes puncturing his skull. His eyes were empty, white orbs floating in his skull. Blood dripped from his nose as he collapsed into the grass, the weapon still hanging from his head.

    BOOM

Pluto fell to his side moments later, panting and gasping for air. Blood flowed from his shoulder out into the grass, tears welled in his dark brown eyes. He laid on the dry warm grass, sobbing and groaning in pain as he looked over at the dead boy not even a foot from him. His leg sat within the pike, still protruding from his thigh. His shook on the ground, blood dripping from his clothes into the grass. He tried wiping the tears from his eyes, staining his face with bloodied fingers.

As he lay there like a wounded deer, he heard the crunching of leaves and grass under heavy boots. He didn’t move, soon a figure hovering over him. He closed his eyes and pressed his trembling lips together, waiting for death, letting out a soft whimper.

“It’s okay” a calm feminine voice whispered over and over as he felt his body being cradled, and gently touched by soft fingers. He began to weep again, burrowing his head into the warm body-caressing him. He looked up, met with the swollen, beaten face of Merla Nik, a bow and silvery arrows strung across her back.

RIP: PARK CRAWLEY
And then there were 5...
Rip Park, sorry man, this had been your fate from the beginning. Almost a year ago I came up with this whole chapter idea, and I'm so damn excited to finally be able to share it with everyone. The intensity of the games has truly surged in recent chapters, I really hope yall enjoy it!
Please please please vote on this chapter and comment your thoughts! Who are you now rooting for to win? What do you think will happen? Please let me know down below! I love talking with you guys.