The floor was cold. Very cold. Birdie gritted her teeth and shifted a little on the ground, hoping it might somehow be warmer. It wasn't. "You'd think you rich jerks could afford heaters!" Birdie snapped, pointedly looking for any cameras that could be present if only she looked hard enough. She continued regardless of finding any, "Oh no, I guess you blew your entire budget on the damn buffet," she scoffed. It didn't take long for her name to be called on the loudspeaker. "Birdie Bavage. District 5." She swiftly stood and walked into the room. And holy crap. If she thought it was cold out there...it was freaking freezing in here. There was a sharp...wind? whipping through the room. Suddenly, a light switched on and Birdie had to quickly cover her eyes, blinking blearily. "Oh my god, try to blind me why don't ya?" Then she realized it was gone again. Confused, Birdie lowered her paw and walked forward. It was...so dark....so cold. She couldn't see crap. It was the kind of cold that made her tremble, and it was the kind of darkness that made her lonely. It was the kind of setting that made her wish there was someone here she could hug and share warmth with. But there wasn't. Because she left all her friends back at home and- goddammit, why was she thinking about that? The light flashed again and Birdie jumped. Oh she didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. The lights were nice. The lights were warm.The lights were temporary. Of course they were. Everything was, wasn't it? The lights were far. Unreachable where they sat on the ceiling. Birdie briefly attempted to reach for them, to bask in there warmth further, but sunk her paw back down to the cold floor without much effort. The light turned off again. Birdie wanted out. She didn't want to be here. God, she didn't want to be here. All she could think was 'let me out. let me out. let me out.' Was this the real punishment for doing so poorly on the parade? She has problems being nice, okay? Everyone that's ever known her knows that! But this was gamemakers. It couldn't be a punishment for her. Everyone got the same setting. It just happens to be hell on earth. The real arena will be great, won't it? The lights came on again. This time, Birdie was looking. While looking, she spotted them. The gamemakers all behind a screen, looking all...*warm* and *unfazed.* And they were just watching her. Watching her be spooked by just some inconsequential darkness. Not caring. As the light turned off again, she bristled, gritting her teeth, "I'll show you!" She yelled, sounding almost desperate, "I'll *show* you! You think I'm scared, don't you? Well, I'm not!" She scowled, but how was she supposed to do anything in these conditions? In a dark dark room, with nothing in sight. On again. Weapons rack. Birdie gasped and scrambled forward, not caring to keep herself steady on the smooth floor. She quickly raced over...only for it to go off again right as she reached- OW! CRAP! She exhaled a hiss and yanked her arm back as she was suddenly pricked with some unidentified sharp object. She was really making a fool of herself, huh? Even if she did get a weapon, what would she do? There weren't exactly holograms or cats in here to fight. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. "You guys really set us all up to fail, huh?" She yelled. "With all these stupid metal-" Birdie blinked, "...weapons without targets." Suddenly, hit with an epiphany, Birdie waited for the next flash of light and snatched up two daggers. If they'd only give her fleeting warmth, she'd make her own. She waited for the lights again, then quickly looked around. If there was a weapons rack than maybe...bingo. Herbs stand from the training area. She raced over, continuing in the same direction even with the lights off. She grabbed sticks and quickly, moving by feel and squinting her eyes, arranged a small tent-like structure. "A-ha!" She exclaimed, then grabbed the two knives. She flicked them together. Nothing. She tried a few more times. She was forced to think further. That cut on her paw was really not helping either and she was starting to think--- The lights flashed again and she was right. It was bleeding a lot more than she initially thought. She cut some strips of wood, tying them with leaves and then incredibly quick around her wrist. A tourniquet. She quickly looked around until she found something by a nearby rack. Larger pieces of wood. Hit with a fresh idea, she quickly raced over and grabbed that. She'd been primarily practicing fire starting most of this time. It's okay. She could do this. She took a deep breath and grabbed one of the knives, using it to cut off a piece of the wood. She set it down next to her kindling set up and then grabbed another stick. She set the stick on top and, with as much force and speed as she thought capable of right now, took it up between her forepaws and twirled it back and forth. She let out a yelp as it hit the cut from earlier but grit her teeth to +
+ ignore it. Birdie closed her eyes, praying for once, that this would somehow do something. Several minutes passed, she was starting to think this wasn't working. She'd give up and plead with the gamemakers until they, probably out of sheer boredom, would let her out of this cold, lonely room. But then she saw light. Then more. Sparks flew and hit the wooden board. Brief, but present. They were now becoming bigger, more frequent, then, they were big enough that....Birdie quickly moved, igniting her kindling. Fire. She also quickly placed some leaves across her wound, attempting to use them as a bandage because clearly she needed to do more than just use a tourniquet. She sat by the fire for a moment, breathing in the warmth. The lights flicked on again, further warmth, further light. It felt relieving this time. Eventually, she sighed, "That's it. I can start a fire. I'm done." And she left that room, never wanting to return to it again.
