He wasn't expecting mud. All of the mud, thick, slow, and a dejected shade of brown, seemed to surround him in a never-ending abyss. Fog didn't help at all, almost fully blinding his view from the only color in the room- a bright red flag centered at the top of a hill. Outside of the arena, a group of gamemakers and- the president?- were all watching him fiercely, waiting to see when he'd make his first move. The pressure was on; Parades hadn't gone the best for Rett, and the game-makers were the biggest chance he'd have to prove his worth to the Capitol. There was no time to waste. Slowly, but steadily, Rett started to trek, keeping his steps small but his concentration earnest. If the Capitol could know how dedicated he was, then maybe they'd consider him for a sponsor. He saw a mountain next to him and decided to jump. Rett was pretty tall for his age, and his long legs helped accelerate him into the sky and onto the lump of mud next to him. A few of the gamemakers watched him, the others chuckling amongst themselves. President Imperium merely stared at him. He jumped again to another nearby mountain of mud. The flag was getting closer. He could practically feel the red material of it on his paws. He started trudging up the hill, triumphant that he'd be able to make it, until he felt a rumble and something cold and wet landed on his back paws. A giant mass of mud had fallen onto his hinds. The mass was heavy and practically impossible to move from. Rett groaned, trying to pull himself up further. But then it sank in. He was stuck. He couldn't stay stuck for too long; the Capitol was starting to get bored. But President Imperium was still looking at him, staring adamently. Another rumble. Rett could see a tree collapsing down from a nearby hill, crashing down and hitting the ground right next to him. He shuddered. That was a close call. Then, an idea came up in his head. Rett pulled his front legs forward to the tree and latched himself on. He huffed and puffed, and groaned as he tried to hoist himself up, attempting to kick his stuck hinds. Just then, another quake happened. Almost by convinience, the rubble on his legs fell off, and he was able to get himself onto the tree bark just before the earthquake sent him tumbling back to the bottom. Rett got uo, took a deep breath, and grunted. All that work to make it to the top just for it to crumble back down (quite literally). His claws opened. He was going to get to the top. No avalanche would stop him. He started to bolt his way up, not even stopping to make some big flashy move or to look at the Capitol. He just kept running, jumping, and bolting, channeling all of his anger into his paws. And almost as soon as he had tumbled down, he had made it up to the flag. Rett leaned onto the flag, breathing heavily. He picked up the flag with his mouth and waved it. He had did it! He had made it to the top! Unfortunately, none of the gamemakers were looking at him, not even Imperium. They were all chatting with each other about his performance, particularly loudly as Rett could hear every word out of their mouths. One thing stood out from their conversation that stuck with him, even as he left the room and went back into the hall, knowing that the chances of him getting any applause or accolades were slim to none:: "He's a great performer and all, but what is his oomph? What makes him stick out?"
