After what feels like hours, I've climbed out of the bunkers, and up the side of the house to my window. I slowly lower myself inside, putting together a list in my head of what I need from in here.
Knives, lots of them: I snatch two knife belts from my closet, and shove a total of 21 knives in the slots.
More weapons; bows: I throw my smallest bow around my neck and under my shoulder, and another one on my bed.
Arrows: Sixteen arrows are all I can fit in my quiver, but that should be enough.
Warm clothes: I pull on a wool tank top with an over sized sweater, and leggings under my trousers.
Concealment: I buckle a black and deep green cloak around my neck, over the bow on my shoulders, and pull the hood over my braided hair.
Boots: My favorite brown ones, with soft souls and leather that has molded to my calves, the ones I had in the Games.
Supplies: A needle and thread, for patching and sewing; a think, short rope that I tie around my waist; water purifier iodine; a big plastic, waterproof bag; and a small leather booklet on plants in this region.
That's all I can put on my body. I shove another cloak, a long dagger, a flask of water, two apples, and matches in my satchel. Now there's only one more thing I need, but I can only get that outside, from the stables.
I take a good look around my room, to ensure it doesn't look as if I've taken all my things. I'm going to miss this place, even though there's a fifty fifty chance I'll be back. But I know that won't be for a long time. And at the rate my family is going, they'll have given my room to some stray child or animal before I get back. Secrets (or now I hear them calling him Aldrin) was already promised half of it.
I throw the satchel over my shoulder, grab my other bow, and climb back out of the window, carefully, sneaking a glance through the glass embedded in the house, and watching my family mourn my death. Travis holds Tori loosely, having probably never seen her rock solid emotion wall break, and not knowing what to really do in her best interest. Topic doesn't seem so tough, not that I ever thought she really was, at least as much as the rest of us, as she slings to the side of the couch on her knees. In the tangled mess of people on the couch, I can only make out a few definite faces. Midnight, who's sharp facial features have softened, and who's eyes have closed to protect her reputation. Bex, who seems to slowly be sinking lower and lower into nothingness, curling into a small ball. The last is Secrets (oh God I have to get used to calling him Aldrin) who's fur is being pulled and clung to by so many people it must be bringing more tears to his eyes. I almost knock on the window, to burst in the room, but my mission returns to the front of my mind, and I again realize this is the only way to really protect them from harm.
I throw a thick blanket over Night, a horse we've had for just about a month. All the others have been here ages, so perhaps my parents will believe that Night ran away, as opposed to the horses that love us unconditionally. Plus he's black, so he will be easier to conceal in the woods. Stealing a saddle would be too obvious, so the blanket is all that cushions me against his bare spine. It will also act as our warmth against the slowly waning winter season. However he's already wearing reigns,
I hop on Night's back, with great pain in moving my hip in a circular motion. This whole ordeal has left me lightheaded and bleeding, but I restitch my wounds together with a small length of my red thread and needle. I barley feel the sewing needle enter my body, and prod my skin together.
Without even glancing back at the only home I've ever known, I pull the reins harshly, and Night races forward into the abyss of dark forest that will eventually lead me to my greatest enemy's headquarters.