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#awkward post is awkward #hope you guys still love me.... #ooc

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This is Our Death Cage: Travis, Parish

travishayes-district10:

Travis coughed, wincing at the pain that it had caused. Travis knew that death was soon and he would be relieved on the pain that the branch had caused him. He didn’t know what happened after death, but he knew that it was better than this pain that he had. The pain from the branch, the arena, the Gamemakers, The Capitol. At this time, Travis saw death as an opportunity to be at peace. He needed peace at this time of trouble and pain.

Without moving his head, Travis watched as Parish got closer to himself, inching closer and closer. Travis saw for the first time how much Parish was suffering and how much pain that he had caused on himself. Now, Travis was forcing him to stay and watch him die. What kind of person was Travis to stand in the way of suffering? Travis did not want anyone else to suffer with him. He saw what suffering had done to people and he didn’t want to see anymore of it.

Without thinking, Travis released his grip from the backpack on his stomach, letting it fall to the ground next to him. He then whispered to Parish, “Take it, use it wisely, win the games.” Travis made his best attempt at a smile. Although he had seen so many animals suffer, he did not like to see the suffering in humans. That was why he didn’t like The Capitol or the Hunger Games. In a sick turn of events, he was chosen to be at the place that he didn’t want to be.

He nudged the backpack and tried to emphasize that he was giving Parish his backpack. Travis had to hold on until he knew that Parish was okay, even though he barely knew Parish. After coughing again, he watched to see what Parish would do, since Travis could obviously not hurt Parish.

Parish watched the boy. He was so broken, so hurt. Parish felt sick. This was his fault. No, it was the Capitol’s. They were who trapped them in this arena. They were who forced them into this deadly game. Parish just didn’t get it. What did the Capitol get out of this? It was nothing but suffering. It didn’t make any sense. How was this supposed to be fun? Watching people die, standing by while people die, while kids die. What had they done to deserve this? Parish knew the answer the Capitol would give. They had rebelled. They had defied the generosity of the Capitol. But that’s not was Parish and the other twenty-three children who were tossed into this arena did. It was their ancestors. Parish and the others, they were innocent. They used to be.

Parish watched the blond, dying boy closely. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from what he had done. Suddenly images of the boy’s family came flooding to him. Parish didn’t know for sure what they would look like but his imagination filled in the blank faces. A mother and father weeping. Friends in silence. Maybe siblings crying. It was nearly too much to bear. Parish was ready to turn around and run when the boy on the ground made a movement. The bag fell to the ground and word, a request, hung in the air.

“Th-thank you,” Parish said, his body was still shaking and his words were still jumbling together in his mouth. His small hands closed around the bag’s straps. ”I’ll try.”

Parish wanted to leave but he hesitated for a moment, guilt holding him in place. He took a few more steps towards the dying tribute until he was finally next to the boy. His mouth moved slowly, mouthing words he was too scared to say out loud. I’m sorry. And then, like always, he ran.

Travis watched intently as Parish took the bag from his side. He was glad that he did. Travis definitely did not have any use for the bag and was glad to give it to Parish. He readjusted his body to sit more comfortably on the solid ground. He did not have much time to live. Travis had to wait before his time would come, when he would take his place amongst the other tributes, all the others that died before him. As his pain began to increase, he felt the world around him getting darker, colder. Travis began to feel numb to the pain from his head and tried to focus on the sky above him, watching it awaken. He was pleased with the sight, seeing different shades of orange and yellow stream across the sky. Just like home.

He made a quick glance at Parish, who had picked up the bag and began to get ready to run. He saw the gesture that he made, which made Travis smile, knowing that Parish would be alright. For now. Travis turned his head as he watched Parish run into the distance, somewhere where he would be safe. Travis closed his eyes, not have a care in the world except for the constant pounding on the top of his head. He tried to suppress the pain but found the pain to increase with every second. The time was coming fast.

Knowing that he would die, he closed his eyes for the last time to remember all the things that had happened to him. His life before being reaped seemed to only pale in comparison to the excitement that was brought when he came to the Games. He remembered the friends he had and the time that was spent with them. Allie. Trevor. Cressida. Tomas. They were all special to him and he regretted not meeting everyone. Now, what’s done is done. He loved them all and hoped that they knew that too.

Taking his last breathes, he wanted to make it special. Something everyone will remember. He remembered the tune that was widely sung by his district. With all his might, he began to sing that same song, making sure not to mess up a note. He coughed a few times, realizing that he was closer than he was ever to death. Before he could finish, he took his last breathe, with his eyes closed. As peaceful as anyone could ever be.

Let the cannon blow.

This is Our Death Cage: Travis, Parish

travishayes-district10:

Travis could not move at all. With his throbbing head, he could not bring his head up. All he could do it get comfortable on the cold, hard ground and hope that he does not die a painful death. But, he felt that it was not possible to have a peaceful death. He heard Parish come down from the tree and slowly try to move away. He tried to focus on the body that was moving but trying to move his head to follow the movements only to find that it was painful to move.

After some effort he finally was seeing who exactly had caused him so much pain and suffering. Travis slung his legs around, finding it easy to do so and tried to study the character in front of him. He first noticed the shaking that had struck Parish’s full body. From experience, he was quick, obviously due to his small stature. The face was also a face that Travis was not familiar with, trying to find any sign of violence or hostility. But all he could find was pain and distress. Travis had a faint feeling, after looking at the expression in Parish’s face, that he did not intentionally want to make the branch fall directly on Travis’ head. He didn’t even know that the branch was Parish’s fault.

Travis tried to speak, finding it hard to. But, he fought through the pain and said, “Please. I can’t hurt you now.” Travis tried to look at Parish the best he could, knowing it was not a perfect site to see. With his head leaning on a root and his body laying flat, he grabbed for his backpack and brought it close to him. Travis looked back at the frightened tribute, “I know it was an accident.” He tried his best to try and comfort Parish, even though he was in much more pain. He needed someone by his side before he died. Travis did not want to die alone, especially in a place like the arena.

A cannon was going to sound. It was inevitable. The moment Parish saw the trap, the moment the other boy set the trap, one of their deaths was slated. Parish knew it, the other tribute probably knew it now, and the Capitol had probably known it all along. The cannon was going to be for the tribute on the ground before him. The people in the Capitol were probably already putting the first mark under Parish’s kill list. He wondered briefly what the response in District 12 was. Were they ashamed? Were they proud? Did they want him home? Did they want him to die?

The boy was asking form him to stay, not in so many words, but it was clear to Parish what the tribute’s words meant. He took a few steps forward, towards the broken boy. The tree branch had fallen to the side and Parish could see all of the boy from 10’s body. His skull was smashed for sure. The tree had fallen right over his head.

Parish stepped forward, nodding. He hoped the boy understood everything that was meant to be conveyed in the nods. That Parish was sorry, that he never meant to end things this way, that he would change everything if he could, that Parish had a family, a brother and sisters, that he needed to get back to, that his mother would be broken if her son didn’t come back. That Parish knew he stood little chance of making it home, but he had to try anyways.

Parish stood still, standing over the dying boy. He was still a step away, but it felt as if the death was right by his face. He watched. It was as if he was hypnotized. He had to stand and watch as the boy lost his life. As Parish’s own actions took the life. He gulped, something catching in his throat. A cannon was going to sound.

Travis coughed, wincing at the pain that it had caused. Travis knew that death was soon and he would be relieved on the pain that the branch had caused him. He didn’t know what happened after death, but he knew that it was better than this pain that he had. The pain from the branch, the arena, the Gamemakers, The Capitol. At this time, Travis saw death as an opportunity to be at peace. He needed peace at this time of trouble and pain.

Without moving his head, Travis watched as Parish got closer to himself, inching closer and closer. Travis saw for the first time how much Parish was suffering and how much pain that he had caused on himself. Now, Travis was forcing him to stay and watch him die. What kind of person was Travis to stand in the way of suffering? Travis did not want anyone else to suffer with him. He saw what suffering had done to people and he didn’t want to see anymore of it.

Without thinking, Travis released his grip from the backpack on his stomach, letting it fall to the ground next to him. He then whispered to Parish, “Take it, use it wisely, win the games.” Travis made his best attempt at a smile. Although he had seen so many animals suffer, he did not like to see the suffering in humans. That was why he didn’t like The Capitol or the Hunger Games. In a sick turn of events, he was chosen to be at the place that he didn’t want to be.

He nudged the backpack and tried to emphasize that he was giving Parish his backpack. Travis had to hold on until he knew that Parish was okay, even though he barely knew Parish. After coughing again, he watched to see what Parish would do, since Travis could obviously not hurt Parish.

This is Our Death Cage: Travis, Parish

travishayes-district10:

Under the weight of the fallen branch or under the weight of the concussion, Travis could not move or focus on anything in front of him. All he felt was the pain from the top of his head. He knew that he was in a rough spot and that he would not be moving anytime soon. Because of the discombobulation that the branch had caused, he did not know what to do. Laying on his side, he felt a huge branch that had fallen on him, also feeling that he could not move his arms.

After a good minute, Travis could focus on a nearby tree and found that he was able to clearly think. He tried to move his arms and found that the branch was not that heavy. He carefully moved the branch to the side and briefly looked up to make sure that Parish had not escaped when he had gotten hit. Travis had heard him murmur words that he could not hear. He then tried to lift his body to an upright position, but when he made any attempt of lifting his head, he experienced a sharp pain in his head. He didn’t understand the feeling and had a few thoughts racing through his head. All he could do now was lay on the ground, vulnerable as ever. He was at the will of the tribute above him.

Travis began to murmur to himself, as Parish was in the tree, “Cressida.” He began to repeat his co-tribute’s name over and over, possibly trying to get Parish’s attention. During his time of murmuring to himself, Travis lifted his head and tried to touch the top of his head. But, his head found pain, blood and a broken skull. He quickly rose his hand away from the top of his head once he touched it, letting out a loud moan, trying to ignore the pain that came with the bruise. Usually wounds did not get him, but this one stung like never before. He closed his eyes, wincing at the pain and tried to shrug it off the best he could.

After he was calm enough to speak, he let out a quick plea to Parish, “Could you help me up?” Even though, he didn’t want to let his guard down, he knew, once he touched his head, that he would not do much moving from the spot that he was in.

Parish watched the boy below him. The other tribute was murmuring something. The same thing, over and over. Parish didn’t know what. A name maybe. The name of a girl. Was it his sister? Maybe his girlfriend. It sounded familiar. Perhaps another tribute.

Parish tried, for the first time, to place the other tribute’s face. He wasn’t a career, Parish was sure of that, and Parish didn’t remember ever interacting with the other boy during training. Parish could barely remember the district the other boy was from. Seven, maybe? No it couldn’t be that. Both from District 7 had died the days before. Nine? No, he had seen Ella’s district partner in the sky last night as he walked. Three? Maybe. Ten? Yes, he was from ten. That’s why the girl’s name sounded familiar. But the tribute’s name escaped Parish. He felt guilt over take him. He had just dropped a tree branch on the boy and couldn’t even remember his name.

Parish waited for the boy to move, for the boy to get up and go away or attack or anything but lie on the ground. A cannon sounded, but it wasn’t for the boy below him. But it shook Parish. He realized, the boy was never going to get up again. The older boy was not going to make it. And it was all Parish’s fault.

He carefully climbed down the trunk of the tree. It was difficult, his hands were shaking. Parish didn’t know if it was from the cold or from something else. He was careful to stay several feet away from the boy. Parish knew that the boy was hurt, that he stood little chance of hurting Parish now, but he didn’t want to risk it. He stepped backwards, desiring nothing more than to escape the situation he was now in.

Then the other boy asked for help. “I-I-I can’t,” Parish said, shaking his head. He tried to back up, but his feet wouldn’t move. He was being held in place by some force unknown to him. Compassion, fear, disgust, the will to live. Demons inside battled to control his actions. “I just can’t. It’s…. we’re… I… the arena.” He was begging. Begging the Gamemakers to have mercy on him. Begging his family back home to remember him as the kind boy who was always smiling, not the tribute who killed. But most of all he was begging the other boy to forgive him.

Travis could not move at all. With his throbbing head, he could not bring his head up. All he could do it get comfortable on the cold, hard ground and hope that he does not die a painful death. But, he felt that it was not possible to have a peaceful death. He heard Parish come down from the tree and slowly try to move away. He tried to focus on the body that was moving but trying to move his head to follow the movements only to find that it was painful to move.

After some effort he finally was seeing who exactly had caused him so much pain and suffering. Travis slung his legs around, finding it easy to do so and tried to study the character in front of him. He first noticed the shaking that had struck Parish’s full body. From experience, he was quick, obviously due to his small stature. The face was also a face that Travis was not familiar with, trying to find any sign of violence or hostility. But all he could find was pain and distress. Travis had a faint feeling, after looking at the expression in Parish’s face, that he did not intentionally want to make the branch fall directly on Travis’ head. He didn’t even know that the branch was Parish’s fault.

Travis tried to speak, finding it hard to. But, he fought through the pain and said, “Please. I can’t hurt you now.” Travis tried to look at Parish the best he could, knowing it was not a perfect site to see. With his head leaning on a root and his body laying flat, he grabbed for his backpack and brought it close to him. Travis looked back at the frightened tribute, “I know it was an accident.” He tried his best to try and comfort Parish, even though he was in much more pain. He needed someone by his side before he died. Travis did not want to die alone, especially in a place like the arena.

This is Our Death Cage: Travis, Parish

travishayes-district10:

Travis did not have to wait long before he heard Parish trying to move in the tree branches above him. He smiled to himself, knowing that the boy could not move far from where they were. He looked up to make sure that they were not any trees that were close or nearby so that Parish could not escape from where he was. He didn’t know what he was doing and really did not care. Travis just had to wait until Parish would give up his futile attempt to try and escape. He looked up at Parish, who had still been climbing up the tree. He quickly rose his eyebrow and wondered what he was doing. It seemed that he was frightened but Travis didn’t know why. He wanted to talk to him but obviously, Parish did not want to talk to him.

Travis went back to what he was doing, holding his bag and waiting for the boy above him to make some sort of attempt to talk to him. He didn’t think that he would persist much longer, knowing that he was cold and tired from all the running. Travis had to wait. To occupy his time, he tried to remember the days that were behind him. He took a stick and began to make a chart of the districts and tributes, crossing out the ones that had already died. He liked to organize his thoughts physically, tending to sometimes messing up information in his head.

After chronicling his thoughts, Travis closed his eyes. He did not do this to doze off, which tended to happen, but all he wanted to see was his memories of home and his time with Cressida. He missed those times. He almost shed a tear when he heard something above him. Like a crack from somewhere above his head. Before he could look up, a branch had fallen on his head and he instantly fell to his side, still holding onto his backpack. But, instead of blacking out, Travis lasted through the attack and began to feel a sharp pain growing on the top of his head. He knew that instant that things were not going to be good.

When the branch gave out under Parish’s feet, he slid forward. Parish barely had time to catch himself. His hands scraped against the rough bark of the tree. The skin began to peel, blood blossomed under the thin skin of his palms, but it did not break through to the surface. The boy’s heart was beating fast. He grappled at the branch as he struggled to regain his grip. He had fallen several feet and was clinging for dear life on a thin branch. Parish delicately pushed himself into a sitting position.

Parish sat for a moment, grateful that he had survived the short fall. Then he remembered the tribute that was below him. The branch had hit the boy square over the head. Parish hadn’t meant for the branch to hit the other tribute, he only meant to scare him away. But the cameras were watching. Parish couldn’t let the Capitol see his hesitation now. “You sh-sh-should have g-gone away,” Parish said, his voice shaking slightly. He carefully began to climb down the tree, a branch or too at a time.

Parish stopped at the lowest branch, still ten feet above the ground. He looked down at the boy below him. He finally spoke again, almost pleading. “Why didn’t you just go away?”

Under the weight of the fallen branch or under the weight of the concussion, Travis could not move or focus on anything in front of him. All he felt was the pain from the top of his head. He knew that he was in a rough spot and that he would not be moving anytime soon. Because of the discombobulation that the branch had caused, he did not know what to do. Laying on his side, he felt a huge branch that had fallen on him, also feeling that he could not move his arms.

After a good minute, Travis could focus on a nearby tree and found that he was able to clearly think. He tried to move his arms and found that the branch was not that heavy. He carefully moved the branch to the side and briefly looked up to make sure that Parish had not escaped when he had gotten hit. Travis had heard him murmur words that he could not hear. He then tried to lift his body to an upright position, but when he made any attempt of lifting his head, he experienced a sharp pain in his head. He didn’t understand the feeling and had a few thoughts racing through his head. All he could do now was lay on the ground, vulnerable as ever. He was at the will of the tribute above him.

Travis began to murmur to himself, as Parish was in the tree, “Cressida.” He began to repeat his co-tribute’s name over and over, possibly trying to get Parish’s attention. During his time of murmuring to himself, Travis lifted his head and tried to touch the top of his head. But, his head found pain, blood and a broken skull. He quickly rose his hand away from the top of his head once he touched it, letting out a loud moan, trying to ignore the pain that came with the bruise. Usually wounds did not get him, but this one stung like never before. He closed his eyes, wincing at the pain and tried to shrug it off the best he could.

After he was calm enough to speak, he let out a quick plea to Parish, “Could you help me up?” Even though, he didn’t want to let his guard down, he knew, once he touched his head, that he would not do much moving from the spot that he was in.

This is Our Death Cage: Travis, Parish

travishayes-district10:

Travis knew that the tribute was close but could not figure out where. The boundary was close. That meant that he would have to pay close attention to how close they were to the boundary. The Gamemakers were known to kill tributes that went passed the boundary. Travis looked around and tried to find the tribute. He listened for any signs of movement coming from any direction. That may lead him to where the tributes had gone. He was glad that there was no wind and none of the wild life was moving. It was early morning so nothing could’ve been moving at that time. Travis had to listen. Just listen.

He walked around for a while, staying in the general area, trying to find and listen for any sign of the tribute. After a while he sat under a tree, a tree that had very few leaves left but still had foliage to cover him from the rising sun. With his back on the trunk, he thought about what he saw, remembering the tracks that he had found and tried to analyze what he saw to try and figure out who he could possibly be following. But, he just could not put two and two together. He tried to remember who had died from the past 6 days but knew that he would have to figure it out when the time came.

He stopped thinking for a second and felt a slight shake in the tree behind him. He did not make any sudden movements, knowing that he might startle whatever was in the tree. He looked up slowly to find a shaking tribute trying to hold on to the tree the best he could. He instantly recognized the tribute. Parish from District 12. Travis was about to open his mouth and ask him a question about Cressida’s death but waited. Parish would have to look down sometime and even come down. All Travis had to do was wait. To wait, he cradled his backpack in his lap, remembering that it was cold out and he could freeze any second if he was not careful.

The blond tribute was still there, circling the ground below the tree. Finally the boy sat at the bottom of the tree. Parish continued to cling to the tree, but it was the middle of the night and temperatures were lower than they were during the day. The younger boy’s fingers colder than ever. His jacket barely stretched to cover his trembling fingers. He looked down again, the boy was still there. The older boy was sitting at the base of the tree, almost directly under Parish.

Parish’s stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten since early the day before. It seemed like such a dumb mistake now, to leave all his food at the camp. He hadn’t expected to be gone into the middle of the night. Half of him had expected everything to be just fine, but it wasn’t. He was trapped in a tree who knows how far away from his campsite. He would have to do something.

Parish looked around his tree. There weren’t any trees close enough for him to escape to. The tree didn’t appear to have any type of berry or fruit that he could eat. There was nothing he could do except climb. So Parish, moving carefully, reached out to the branch above him. The movement helped the harsh pain from the cold diminish. He knew it was useless, but at least he was something.

Soon Parish was five feet higher, then ten, then fifteen. Finally he saw a way out. There, just feet to his left, maybe a foot to the side of where the boy below him sat, was a branch with a clear path down to the ground. A rotted, broken, practically ready to fall branch. It was as if it was placed there for the sole purpose of saving him. A plan formed in his head. Break the branch, scare the blond tribute away.

Without hesitation Parish moved to the branch, his eyes wide with hope. He kicked out at it, then again and again and again and again until it finally began to fall. With a loud crack, the branch fell. Except Parish was wrong. Whether he had miscalculated the position of the branch or it moved during its fall, the branch wasn’t to the side of the boy. It was directly above him.

Travis did not have to wait long before he heard Parish trying to move in the tree branches above him. He smiled to himself, knowing that the boy could not move far from where they were. He looked up to make sure that they were not any trees that were close or nearby so that Parish could not escape from where he was. He didn’t know what he was doing and really did not care. Travis just had to wait until Parish would give up his futile attempt to try and escape. He looked up at Parish, who had still been climbing up the tree. He quickly rose his eyebrow and wondered what he was doing. It seemed that he was frightened but Travis didn’t know why. He wanted to talk to him but obviously, Parish did not want to talk to him.

Travis went back to what he was doing, holding his bag and waiting for the boy above him to make some sort of attempt to talk to him. He didn’t think that he would persist much longer, knowing that he was cold and tired from all the running. Travis had to wait. To occupy his time, he tried to remember the days that were behind him. He took a stick and began to make a chart of the districts and tributes, crossing out the ones that had already died. He liked to organize his thoughts physically, tending to sometimes messing up information in his head.

After chronicling his thoughts, Travis closed his eyes. He did not do this to doze off, which tended to happen, but all he wanted to see was his memories of home and his time with Cressida. He missed those times. He almost shed a tear when he heard something above him. Like a crack from somewhere above his head. Before he could look up, a branch had fallen on his head and he instantly fell to his side, still holding onto his backpack. But, instead of blacking out, Travis lasted through the attack and began to feel a sharp pain growing on the top of his head. He knew that instant that things were not going to be good.

This is Our Death Cage: Travis, Parish

travishayes-district10:

After running for what seemed a good while, he saw a human figure running in the direction that he was going. Seeing any tribute made Travis uneasy. He slowed his pace down but tried to keep the figure in sight. He saw that he was fast, which was bad for Travis. Anyone faster than Travis meant that they already had an advantage over him. But, he just had to hide that weakness before they found out about it. He stopped himself and found that he was breathing heavily, watching each breath fade into the air. He had to think of a way to go after the tribute, determined to find out if they killed Cressida. That would be the only reason that he followed this figure, to find out about Cressida.

After a short breather, Travis went after the figure again, but he could not find it. He had lost sight of the figure and now had to use his senses to find out where the tribute had gone. He looked toward the ground, after coming to a full stop. He tried to find any indication of human shoes. He didn’t have as much skill in this area, remembering never having to actually look for a animal. There were only a few cases where that skill was needed, and one of those cases was now.

He had found the tracks and saw that the stride was wide but the shoe was tiny. Which meant that he was fast but was small. While following the trail, he tried to recollect the faces of all the tributes, and try to remember the sizes of the tributes. He could not narrow down the possibilities, deciding that it was not a big deal. He just had to find the tribute before they found him. They might want to kill him, but Travis just wanted to talk. Gain information. But, if it was necessary, kill the tribute.

Travis stopped in his tracks, he had heard a noise but didn’t know where it was coming from. He also stopped because he didn’t know where the tracks were headed. They had vanished like the figure. Now, Travis began to frantically figure out his next move, having a bad feeling that he had before when Cressida died.

A way out. Parish needed to find a way out. There was someone else out there. He knew that. He had known that all along, but they had never been so close. And now that someone else was just feet behind him, chasing him through the forest

Then Parish saw the tree. It was a great big tree with wide branches and dark bark. It was more than just a tree, it was his savior. Without stopping his run, Parish grabbed at the tree. The lowest branch was too high for any tribute to reach, but his small hands fit perfectly in the knots on the tree. He scampered up the side of the tree until he finally reached the branch. Parish pulled himself up higher and higher in the tree until he was a good thirty feet in the air.

“Go away,” he murmured, barely loud enough for himself to hear. He pressed himself against the trunk of the tree, his eyes pressed shut. The panic he had felt before was gone, his mind wasn’t racing. His mind was still. No memories of home were flooding over him and no tactical plans of escape were coming to him. A calm fear settled over him. He couldn’t look down. It wasn’t the height that scared him. It was the murderous tribute that stood below him. “Just go away.”

Travis knew that the tribute was close but could not figure out where. The boundary was close. That meant that he would have to pay close attention to how close they were to the boundary. The Gamemakers were known to kill tributes that went passed the boundary. Travis looked around and tried to find the tribute. He listened for any signs of movement coming from any direction. That may lead him to where the tributes had gone. He was glad that there was no wind and none of the wild life was moving. It was early morning so nothing could’ve been moving at that time. Travis had to listen. Just listen.

He walked around for a while, staying in the general area, trying to find and listen for any sign of the tribute. After a while he sat under a tree, a tree that had very few leaves left but still had foliage to cover him from the rising sun. With his back on the trunk, he thought about what he saw, remembering the tracks that he had found and tried to analyze what he saw to try and figure out who he could possibly be following. But, he just could not put two and two together. He tried to remember who had died from the past 6 days but knew that he would have to figure it out when the time came.

He stopped thinking for a second and felt a slight shake in the tree behind him. He did not make any sudden movements, knowing that he might startle whatever was in the tree. He looked up slowly to find a shaking tribute trying to hold on to the tree the best he could. He instantly recognized the tribute. Parish from District 12. Travis was about to open his mouth and ask him a question about Cressida’s death but waited. Parish would have to look down sometime and even come down. All Travis had to do was wait. To wait, he cradled his backpack in his lap, remembering that it was cold out and he could freeze any second if he was not careful.

This is Our Death Cage: Travis, Parish

travishayes-district10:

Travis woke up with a start. His third time that night. He got up from his spot under the tree, all alone. Trevor had left after Travis went for Cressida and he hadn’t seen Trevor since. He simply got himself up from where he was laying and gathered most of his stuff, having a mind to get some food for the day. He shook his head as he tried to count how many days he had been alive in the arena. Six days. He marveled at that fact as he got his coat and and backpack, still full of all the stuff that the Capitol had given him. He did not use any of the items, just for the fact that he did not need to use any of the items inside. He left his spot under the tree and made his way down to a dense part of the woods, a place where he could set up a trap with the rope he was given.

After a good thirty minutes, he dropped his backpack by a nearby tree that seemed good enough to stand the tension from his trap. He opened the bag and pulled out the rope from his pack and laid it out flat. He measured how much rope he had and began to fold the rope based on the dimensions he needed to wrap around the trap and set the trap. Remembering his days at home, he set the trap pretty quickly, having done this same trap many times before. He was accostumed to the design of the trap, considering it his best trap. In District 10, sometimes he would have to use the trap to catch run away livestock. The design made it so that the trapped could not move much in the trap but was versatile in to capture all types of animals. Even humans if necessary.

After quickly setting up the trap, Travis grabbed some leaves in the nearby area to cover the trap. He didn’t want some tribute to find it and take his rope. He gathered the rest of his stuff and made his way towards the sound of what he heard to be rustling leaves, hoping that it was some animal about to die. Before running off, he made a quick assessment of his trap, making sure that it was okay before running of into the distance. Without thinking, he whistled a tune from his District, something that he normally did once he set up a trap, almost like blessing the trap. Or cursing, in this case.

Parish didn’t stop running. He looked over his shoulder once. Unfortunately for him, the forest was thinner than where Parish had been camping for the past few days and he could still see as far as to where the trap was. A sound of shock escaped from his mouth. Now there was a boy by the trap. The boy was older with bright blond hair. And Parish was sure that if he could see the boy, the boy could see him.

He could kick himself. Parish knew better. His father had always told him, when you see another hunter’s traps you leave them alone. Why had he gone towards the trap? He had practically invited a fight. It was dumb. Parish was smarter than that. But he had thought to late and now he was paying for it.

Parish glanced behind him again, and was shocked to see he could still see the other boy’s bright hair. Then it hit him. It wasn’t that surprising. He was being followed.

A small voice in the back of his mind told him to stop, to give up. The voice said that running wasn’t worth it. It told him that the other tribute was stronger, faster, better. It told him that he couldn’t win. He was tempted to stop. His breathing was fast, barely taking in any oxygen. It hurt to move, but he kept going. He couldn’t let the voice get to him. Not now that he was so close to the end of the arena. Parish breathed out heavily and pushed himself forward. He wasn’t going to stop.

The arena was life or death, and he was going to chose life.

After running for what seemed a good while, he saw a human figure running in the direction that he was going. Seeing any tribute made Travis uneasy. He slowed his pace down but tried to keep the figure in sight. He saw that he was fast, which was bad for Travis. Anyone faster than Travis meant that they already had an advantage over him. But, he just had to hide that weakness before they found out about it. He stopped himself and found that he was breathing heavily, watching each breath fade into the air. He had to think of a way to go after the tribute, determined to find out if they killed Cressida. That would be the only reason that he followed this figure, to find out about Cressida.

After a short breather, Travis went after the figure again, but he could not find it. He had lost sight of the figure and now had to use his senses to find out where the tribute had gone. He looked toward the ground, after coming to a full stop. He tried to find any indication of human shoes. He didn’t have as much skill in this area, remembering never having to actually look for a animal. There were only a few cases where that skill was needed, and one of those cases was now.

He had found the tracks and saw that the stride was wide but the shoe was tiny. Which meant that he was fast but was small. While following the trail, he tried to recollect the faces of all the tributes, and try to remember the sizes of the tributes. He could not narrow down the possibilities, deciding that it was not a big deal. He just had to find the tribute before they found him. They might want to kill him, but Travis just wanted to talk. Gain information. But, if it was necessary, kill the tribute.

Travis stopped in his tracks, he had heard a noise but didn’t know where it was coming from. He also stopped because he didn’t know where the tracks were headed. They had vanished like the figure. Now, Travis began to frantically figure out his next move, having a bad feeling that he had before when Cressida died.

This is Our Death Cage: Travis, Parish

Parish was in a daze. He had lost count of the number of cannons he had heard that day. Two in the early morning. The one that was Ella’s. After that there were more. At least one, maybe two. The boy wasn’t sure. It was all death. Death and blood. Blood and death.

Parish walked slowly through the forest. He didn’t know what to do. His ally was gone. It was late in the games. Only half or so of the tributes were left. Parish had made it farther than he had ever thought he would. He could do it. He could survive. As long as he kept to himself he would be okay. He just had to get back to his campsite and… and… he wasn’t sure what to do next.

The arena was still freezing, and Parish was still struggling to stay warm. The parka Ella had received in the raffle was gone, just like she was. Parish pulled his light windbreaker tightly around him. His eyes were wide as he moved slowly through the forest. There was no point in running now, there was no one depending on him, no one he depended on. The boy’s bright eyes suddenly caught sight of something in the distance. It was all too familiar a sight, he couldn’t resist getting closer.

A trap. Cleverly constructed. Before he noticed, Parish was right next to it, getting an up close look at it. It was something his father and brother would have built in the forest back in District 12. He ran his fingers over the fragile rope. It would easily trap any animal that came through the area. It seemed designed for large animals. Deer, bears….. and tributes.

Parish froze, panic overcoming him, but it was too late. He had set the trap off. Time slowed as the rope moved, ready to catch him, to capture him in it’s tight embrace. But Parish was faster. He jumped back, stumbling to the ground, scraping his palms against the rough terrain. He heard something, someone, in the distance. They were coming back to check their trap. They must have heard it go off.

Then Parish did the only thing he knew how to. He ran.

Travis woke up with a start. His third time that night. He got up from his spot under the tree, all alone. Trevor had left after Travis went for Cressida and he hadn’t seen Trevor since. He simply got himself up from where he was laying and gathered most of his stuff, having a mind to get some food for the day. He shook his head as he tried to count how many days he had been alive in the arena. Six days. He marveled at that fact as he got his coat and and backpack, still full of all the stuff that the Capitol had given him. He did not use any of the items, just for the fact that he did not need to use any of the items inside. He left his spot under the tree and made his way down to a dense part of the woods, a place where he could set up a trap with the rope he was given.

After a good thirty minutes, he dropped his backpack by a nearby tree that seemed good enough to stand the tension from his trap. He opened the bag and pulled out the rope from his pack and laid it out flat. He measured how much rope he had and began to fold the rope based on the dimensions he needed to wrap around the trap and set the trap. Remembering his days at home, he set the trap pretty quickly, having done this same trap many times before. He was accostumed to the design of the trap, considering it his best trap. In District 10, sometimes he would have to use the trap to catch run away livestock. The design made it so that the trapped could not move much in the trap but was versatile in to capture all types of animals. Even humans if necessary.

After quickly setting up the trap, Travis grabbed some leaves in the nearby area to cover the trap. He didn’t want some tribute to find it and take his rope. He gathered the rest of his stuff and made his way towards the sound of what he heard to be rustling leaves, hoping that it was some animal about to die. Before running off, he made a quick assessment of his trap, making sure that it was okay before running of into the distance. Without thinking, he whistled a tune from his District, something that he normally did once he set up a trap, almost like blessing the trap. Or cursing, in this case.