Matthew Woodward
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The 57th Hunger Games | Day Four: Troubled Waters
🕑 Added 2022-07-02 01:26:37 +0000 UTCUpon awakening on the fourth day, Matthew was greeted by that familiar, shivering cold once again. He grabbed hold of his sleeping bag tight, and tried to cover all his neck fluff so the breeze wouldn’t make its way down the wolf’s body. Since day two, not a single tribute had died, and he had not encountered anyone else since Claudia was killed that night.
His survival status was somewhat stable. The cave he was sleeping in was close to a river, which lead to a frozen lake, so water supply was sorted; the main issues for him were food and the cold. Since it was four days into the games, all the bread he received in his backpack was now gone, and only a single rabbit had been caught in one of his snares since Day Two. On the other hand, the temperature was decreasing and blizzards were starting to occur, and the fire could only do so much; even then, he was unable to keep the fire burning throughout the nights due to the risk of attracting unwanted guests to his location. He had to get more food soon, otherwise he was going to starve.
Immediately after getting out of his sleeping bag, the wolf strolled down towards the area where he had laid out traps to see if any creatures had wandered into it during the night — sadly, nothing. His stomach growled at the sight. Fortunately, he still had meat leftover from the last rabbit he caught, but it wouldn’t last long; he just had to save it for potentially the next few days.
After checking on the traps, he made his way towards the river to refill and get his morning drink. When it came to water, he didn’t have to worry about that at all; the river wasn’t too far away from him, and the water was clean. At this point, he was starting to assume that every source of water in that arena was safe to drink, but it was still necessary to check in case any were in fact dirty or poisoned; better safe than sorry. Once reaching there, he brought out his aluminum bottle and dunked it under the freezing-cold water, then bringing it to his lips to quench his thirst. He topped it up again after another few swigs and went back to the cave to put the bottle in his backpack, which was left inside while he did his morning routine. Then it was time to retrieve more wood for the fire.
He grabbed his trusty machete, along with his knife, and searched for a tree that had branches low enough for him to reach. Thankfully, one wasn’t too far away — close to the river. Matthew hacked at the branches hanging from the tree’s log and began piling them up next to him, to take back to the cave.
But while he was in the middle of doing that, his ears picked up a sudden noise — the sound of snow crunching softly underneath a foot, directly behind him. He thought it might’ve been another rabbit who had wandered into his territory, so he tried not to make a sound or any sudden movements; thank goodness, some food! But suddenly, the footsteps became faster — louder — and were coming right towards him; that’s when he realised it wasn’t a rabbit at all.
The wolf turned his head to see another tribute running at full speed towards him, their weapon raised in the air, ready to strike. He quickly dodged out of the way and was now fully facing them. Upon further inspection, he realised the tribute he suspected was one he hoped not to come across in the arena — it was Bruce.
Bruce was a brown, eighteen-year-old bull from District 10, the same age as Matthew. Being from the Livestock district, it was no surprise that he was built like a tank; he was undoubtedly the strongest out of all the tributes, and he was VERY aggressive during training sessions. He tackled all the trainers without even breaking a sweat during hand-to-hand combat sessions. The careers tried to recruit him into the group, but he declined the offer and walked the other way. The confidence he had to turn them down like that by himself made him even more intimidating, instantly making himself a threat to them. His district’s jacket colour was grey and he sported a bar mace, a blunt weapon that paired well with his strength.
As the bovine came walking towards him — with his pace picking up fast — Matthew was backing away towards the river, tightening the grip around his machete, ready to fight.
The bovine rushed at him with murderous intent and they clashed. Matthew dodged a few of Bruce’s heavy swings before blocking an overhead attack.
*CLASH*
After a couple blocks, the wolf parried one of Bruce’s attacks and managed to leave a cut on his right arm. He let out a painful grunt as blood began to spill from the wound, but he didn’t let that stop him from fighting; he was determined to kill Matthew.
He ran towards him again, his mace raised in the air, and swung at him relentlessly. Matthew ducked to avoid the swing, but—
*BONK*
He was thrown off-guard by a pummel to the face with Bruce’s weapon. His instinct then was to clutch onto the weapon so the bull couldn’t swing anymore, but due to his overwhelming strength, he tossed Matthew aside with ease, and then placed a heavy blow into his torso which sent him flying a few feet away.
The canine had the wind knocked out of him from the harsh impact, unable to catch his breath; his machete was no longer in his hand, but by where he was before the hit — he was now vulnerable. Bruce walked towards him, not in a rush at all, and picked him up by his jacket, pinning him up against a tree. Just as he had caught his breath, he felt a large pair of hands wrap around his neck and begin to squeeze. He gasped for air, but there was no use; his windpipe was completely blocked — all he could do was fight back. He tried pulling his hands off — he clawed at his face — but it did nothing except make his grip even tighter. Matthew was starting to lose vision, darkness fading in slowly.
“So this is it,” he thought, “this is how I die…”
However, in that moment, he had only just remembered one vital tool — one that could potentially save his life in that moment: the knife! With one last attempt, he quickly pulled the knife out of his pocket and launched the blade deep into Bruce’s thigh.
“ARRGH!”
The bovine screamed in pain and let go of his neck, allowing him to breathe once again. Matthew ejected the blade out and tried to go for another stab, this time in his torso, but Bruce was quick to counter by grabbing the wolf’s arm. He head-butted Matthew and threw him around before landing a forceful punch in his face.
The pair collapsed onto the ground, both unable to pick themselves back up at first. Matthew coughed hard and gasped to bring fresh air into his lungs, able to taste iron in his mouth from his gums bleeding, while Bruce was crawling back to his mace. Thankfully, Matthew was thrown back towards his machete, bringing it into his hand once more.
Once he had got back on his feet, the wolf ran down the river with his hand on his abdomen while Bruce was limping closely behind. He didn’t know where to go — there was nowhere to hide — but a quick idea came to mind: the lake next to them could potentially slow Bruce down and further the distance between them, allowing for an easier escape; it wasn’t much, but it was all he could think of.
When the bull eventually caught back up to Matthew, the two began sparring once again, blocking and dodging each other’s attacks; at one point the wolf was able to pummel the bovine so he could get further away from him, but he soon caught up again — nothing was working.
Upon arriving at the frozen lake, Matthew stepped foot onto its presumably-thick ice and attempted to run across, however he didn’t expect it to be as slippery as what it actually was, causing him to fall flat on his back and hit his head hard. He looked up to see an upside-down view of Bruce stomping straight towards him, just metres away. He brought his mace above his head and slammed it down on where Matthew’s head was, but the wolf managed to roll out of the way just in time, his weapon striking the ice instead. With his machete in hand, the lupine frantically crawled away a few feet before getting back up on his feet, this time carefully making his way across the ice. Bruce did the same, though not struggling as much as Matthew due to his hooves resting flat on the surface. He was gaining on the wolf, however, once the pair in the centre of the lake, Matthew heard an odd noise.
*Crack*
The ice beneath their feet began to fracture, the cracking sounds echoing across the winter landscape with a subtle ‘pew’ following closely behind.
That sound caused both of them to immediately stop in their tracks. Matthew knew he had to get off the ice ASAP, but Bruce had other ideas in mind. The bull began to charge towards him at full force which made his heart skip a beat out of shock. Once reaching him, Bruce then tackled Matthew and sent both of them plummeting through the ice.
*SPLASH*
The water was FREEZING cold — even painful; Matthew wilfully fought as much as he could not to take a breath from the shock, meanwhile Bruce was more concerned on killing him. They were sinking at an alarming rate, and surrounding the hole they fell through was nothing but darkness. In the crash, he had lost his machete, which had gone sinking down below to the bottom of the lake below. He was defenceless and out of options — all he could do now was fight. In one final effort, Matthew brought his foot underneath Bruce’s stomach, and using all his might, threw the bovine over his head with one hard push. When he began swimming his way up towards the light, he felt the bull’s hands cling around his ankle desperately, but kicked him in the face repeatedly until his foot was free from Bruce’s clutches. Time was running out — he had to get out of the water NOW, otherwise his air would soon run out. He swam upwards as fast as he could and prayed he wouldn’t get caught a second time, all the while fighting for his life not to breathe. His chest was feeling tighter and tighter with every second — his vision was blurring — but before it got the chance to turn pure black, the sound of wind greeted his ears once again.
Matthew gasped to bring fresh air into his lungs and began coughing hard several times, water spilling out of his maw. The wolf carefully crawled out of hole and then laid a few feet away on part of the ice that wasn’t shattered, his entire body shaking from head-to-toe. He noticed there were no more splashes coming from the hole after he came out of it, wondering if Bruce was even still alive; but a few seconds later, the sound of the cannon fired, answering his question for him. He was relieved, however, was still far from safe. Hypothermia was creeping upon him, and he had to do something to warm him up FAST.
The wolf struggled to get on his feet and even slipped a couple times while attempting to get off the lake, then making his way back to the cave. On the way back, he found the bloody knife he had used to stab Bruce with on the ground, so he quickly picked up before moving on. He didn’t even bother to check on the snares as he rushed past them, heading straight towards his cave.
Once entering, he frantically searched through his backpack for the fire starter and quickly lit a campfire, then undressing and laying his clothes out by it so they could dry off, including his underwear. As for Matthew, he knew getting warm was needed, but thanks to his survival training back in the Capitol, he remembered the most important thing about preventing hypothermia: when warming up, you must do it GRADUALLY; doing it too fast could cause heart failure. With that in mind, the wolf crawled into his sleeping back and zipped it up tight after shuffling as close as possible to the hot flames. After a short while, he then tucked his knees up to his chest and kept his legs tight together to conserve his body heat. The cold lupine shivered inside the bag; the significant decrease in temperature of his body was unbearable, feeling like his flesh was burning despite being the coldest he had ever been in his life. He soon started to rub both his arms and legs repeatedly under the sleeping bag in hopes that he would start to feel at least SOME warmth soon; thankfully, it helped, even if it was just a little.
After an extremely-long thirty-or-so minutes of trying to slowly increase his body temperature, Matthew was beginning to feel more comfortable in the cave; the shivering had calmed down significantly, and the burning on his skin didn’t feel as bad as it did before which was relieving. But once he was starting to feel more relaxed, he began to feel drowsy. His vision began to blur and fade to black as he collapsed onto his side; the last thing he saw was the campfire in front of him before his eyes fully closed and refused to open back up.
When they eventually did pop open once again, he suddenly found himself standing in a crowd of people who appeared to be a similar age to him, dressed in smart white and blue clothing along with himself. He was no longer in the dark cave, but out in broad daylight underneath what looked like a giant canopy, surrounded by tall buildings and a dock that looked all too familiar.
“Well, as usual, ladies first,” a female voice blasted out of the speakers.
He looked ahead to see a bluejay wearing a deep-blue dress that matched her feathers, standing on stage with the Capitol’s banners hung up behind her; she stood in between a pair of large, transparent bowls filled with small envelopes. The woman stuck her hand in the bowl on her right and swirled it around before pulling out a single envelope, opening it as she began to speak once again.
“The female tribute for this year’s games is…Mariana Clearwater.”
It was at that moment that it hit him: he was back in District 4, on Reaping Day.
The crowd around him made way for Mariana, the panther soon standing out in the open and making her way onto the stage; she didn’t look very upset, but still had this slightly shocked look to her face as she faced the audience.
“And now, it’s time for the boys…”
The bird then reached into the bowl on her left and mixed it around in the pile for a good minute until finally pulling out a name, then beginning to unravel it. The wolf’s heart began pumping faster in his chest once he realised what was going on, and what was about to happen next.
“And the male tribute for the 57th Hunger Games is…Matthew Woodward.”
No…not again…
The teens around the wolf gasped in shock as he felt dozens of their eyes plant onto him all at once — even the adults were staring. He could hear the haunting screams and cries of his mother in the distance.
“No! NOOOOO-HO-HO-HO!!!”
He couldn’t believe it; he didn’t want to through that experience — not again. He collapsed onto his knees and covered his ears with his hands, wanting the nightmare to stop, but all he could do was listen to what was occurring around him at that very moment — there was nothing he could do. The screams of his mother and the bickering of children surrounding him grew louder with every passing second to the point where it became deafening.
“Stop…please…PLEASE STOOOOOOOP!!!” He yelled at the top of his lungs to himself.
Once he opened his eyes again, he jumped up in a panicked state and began panting heavily, his body covered in sweat due to severe anxiety. He found himself back in the cave with little noise whatsoever, only the sound of wind blowing harshly through the woods outside; it was now night, and the campfire was no longer lit after burning through all the wood while he was passed out. So his assumption was correct: it was just a dream.
Just as he thought he’d put that event behind him…Even though he knew it was just a dream, it felt real, like he was reliving his darkest memory all over again completely. Despite it happening just weeks ago, he wanted to push it to the back of his mind and forget about it as fast as he could, but it was impossible: his last moments with his mother, thinking about how she would deal with life when he eventually died, the realisation of him being forced to kill…it was something he did NOT want to experience all over again. At least he was survived and overcame the hypothermia.
While he reflected on what had just happened and gathered himself, a sudden pain shot up through his abdomen and he winced in response. Matthew looked down to see a large, purple bruise spread across his abs, caused by the impact of Bruce’s mace from when the bull knocked the wind out of him. His first injury — at least it wasn’t severe in the slightest; that would heal itself in just the matter of days, if he’s lucky to still be alive by then.
Afterwards, he suddenly heard a faint, distinctive beeping noise coming from outside.
*Beep beep beep…beep beep beep*
The chiming repeated several more times while growing louder with each passing moment, seemingly making its way towards the cave he was staying in. On high alert, Matthew immediately unzipped the sleeping bag and crawled out so he could check to see where it was coming from. Outside of the cave’s entrance, lowering down from the pitch-black sky, he spotted a flash of red light. Upon getting closer to him, he saw a large, silver container floating down towards him on a mini parachute, the beeping coming to a stop as it finally hit the ground several feet away from him. What a pleasant surprise — it was a sponsor gift!
He quickly ran out into the cold and brought the case inside before placing it on the ground next to his sleeping bag. Upon opening it, he was delighted by what he saw. Inside the case was a thick, grey blanket with a little note resting on top of it, reading:
“Be sure to bundle up!
— M”
M? It must’ve been from Mags. Mags was Matthew’s mentor, a previous victor who won the 11th Hunger Games, forty-six years prior. She clearly thought of the right gift to aid him in the situation he was in. But who donated to him? Who was willing to help HIM out of all the other tributes they could’ve chosen? No matter — he was just grateful for the gift regardless.
In an instant, he grabbed the thick blanket and wrapped it tightly around his body before shuffling himself back into his sleeping bag; he was already starting to feel the much-needed warmth, and he was relieved.
“Thank you…” he whispered, hoping the cameras had picked up his voice if they were spying on him in that moment.
A few moments after warming back up with his new blanket, the Capitol’s national anthem began to play once again for the fourth night, it’s logo projecting in the dark night sky. However, it didn’t last long at all this time; there was only one death that day, and that death being none other than Bruce.
So that was another tribute dead, the second one Matthew was responsible for — ten down, fourteen remaining.
As he laid there wrapped in his new blanket, he had just remembered: his machete…he lost it during his fight with Bruce. Now it’s down at the bottom of the lake, never to be seen again. He no longer had a weapon, at least not a very reliable one for him. There was still the knife which was mainly used for cutting through certain materials, but with all these other tributes with significantly-larger weapons, that wasn’t going to cut it. He couldn’t do anything about it in that moment, however; it had just past midnight, and going out at that time looking for a weapon would’ve been suicide, especially when all the available ones would’ve been laid out at the cornucopia, which the careers had taken over.
Nevermind…while he tried not to let the thought bother him, he closed his eyes once again and attempted to drift back off to sleep; there was time for worrying about that in the morning.
__________________________________________
Finally — a new chapter to the Hunger Games! I’m really sorry the stories have been coming fairly scarcely. To be honest, long story short, writer’s block and procrastination are huge bitches XD
With that said, I’ve just started writing the next chapter and it’s coming along pretty well! I have a good feeling the next one is gonna come out a lot sooner than this one, so keep an eye out for that when it drops! I’ve also got a few other spicy stories in the works too, which have some lovely pics alongside them >.>
Thank you for being so patient with me, and again, I’m terribly sorry about the story drought. New stuff coming out VERY soon!
Art by the amazing Jailbird!
Bruce is a fictional character created solely for this storyline.
