"The Hunger Games is becoming boring. Primarily because of its predictability.

Put twenty-four teens in an arena and tell them that the only way to survive is to kill each other and you will get glory and gore; A thrilling drama.

But put twenty-four teens in an arena who have no idea why they are in there and you'll get so much more."

It felt like waking up from a dream, except that Katniss couldn't remember anything from the dream. Actually, Katniss didn't remember anything pertaining to where she was and how she ended up there.

She could hear the sound of water flowing and the feeling of the mossy, wet ground beneath her body before she even had the strength to open her eyes.

She assumed that she was alone; why wouldn't she be? But the sound of movement close enough for her to know which direction it came from, made her realize that she wasn't actually alone. She turned while attempting to sit up, to see confused, green eyes wandering around their surroundings, only to land or her a few seconds later.

The two teens stared at each other in silence, taking in each other appearance. The boy looked young, and Katniss reckoned that he could be no older than seventeen, maybe even sixteen. But the more alarming discovery was that they were dressed in similar clothes and the boy's hand rested on a spear that laid on the ground beside him.

Katniss assessed herself and realized that she, unlike the boy, had no form of a weapon within her reach, which bothered her deeply. Her mind thought of multiple possible scenarios of what could happen next and how she could respond to them.

She hated being defenseless and here she was in the forest - with no recollection of how she got there - with a boy who had his hand near a spear.

Katniss kept her eyes glued on the boy, anxious about any sudden movement that he would make. However, the boy's eyes soon diverted from her and landed behind her. He spoke for the first time, nodded his head towards her side "Who's he?"

It took Katniss a few seconds to register what he asked and decide that she should take her eyes away from him to see who the mysterious 'he' was. Turning her eyes, towards her other side, she saw another boy - young, although his body was so bulky and developed, it made Katniss doubt if he was a boy at all.

He, unlike, the other boy and Katniss, had his eyes shut and as far as she knew he was dead to the world.

"Is he dead?" The boy whispered, hoping that Katniss would give him an answer.

Katniss looked back around to see the boy's hand reached for the spear and used that as a cue to spring to her feet in defense. She had no idea why she should not trust him, but a second sense, a feeling she could not put a rational explanation to nagged her.

"Woah," The boy attested. "Calm down." He teased, peering up at her.

Katniss didn't dare to let down her guard, preparing to run at any second.

The boy slowly released the spear from his grip, although he made sure that it was still beside him before standing up. "Ok, no spear." He declared, holding his hands up.

Katniss looked down at the spear on the ground and then back up to the boy's face.

"You know, you really need to calm down." He recommended in a teasing tone. "I can't imagine how tiring it must be to assume that everyone is out to hurt you, after just meeting them."

"I just woke up with no recollection of how I got here, with you next to me, with a spear. What do you want me to assume?"

"That I am in the same position as you?" The boy answered. "And if that guy is alive?" He nodded to the boy who was still on the ground.

He shook his head before moving over to the boy on the ground. Stooping down, he moved his hand to the boy's neck.

"He has a pulse." The boy informed Katniss.

Katniss said nothing. Not knowing how to reply, after all, she just woke up in the forest with a boy who seemed way too trusting and a boy who was out cold, but still alive.

"What do you think happened?" Katniss asked, hesitantly.

The boy shrugged, "I know as much as you."

Katniss, reassessing her question, realized how stupid it was. He most likely was telling the truth about not being able to remember anything similar to her.

Katniss turned around. They were among trees, but there was also a small pond a few feet from them.

Katniss started to walk away, but the boy whose name she didn't know, shouted: "Where are you going?"

Katniss turned around. " I am going to see if I can find my way back."

"Back to where? We are in the middle of nowhere." He stood up.

"Well, if I don't try to find a way back we will be stuck here all night."

"But what about him?" He pointed to the unconscious boy.

Katniss shrugged. It was honestly not her problem. She had never seen the boy in front of her before, despite District 12 being small in population, Katniss never had the time or cared enough to talk to or make friends with many of the teens her age. Plus, she was from the Seam and the boy in front of her, judging from his physical health, his manners, and the way he spoke, she could tell that most likely he was one of those wells off teens whose parents owned a business in town.

"Look, I'm from the Seam." Katniss offered as an explanation. Despite not being a stranger to bad situations, the Seam was not a great place to wander around at night. "I need to get back before it gets dark."

"I don't really know what a Seam is, but ok?" He replied.

Was this boy so pampered and sheltered that he didn't even know the nickname for the less well-off section of District Twelve?

"That's interesting." The boy muttered to himself loudly. "You're from District Twelve. "

"Aren't you?"

He smirked, as if assuming he was from District 12 was some kind of joke, then shook his head.

Peeta had a headache. He was used to having headaches, although this was far by the worst headache he ever recalled having. However, his headache was the least of his problem, since he opened his eyes to a silver knife at his throat and someone straddling him.

"One move, and I'll make it deep enough that you bleed out slowly."

The voice was light but was so stern that Peeta didn't dare to move.

The person leaned forward and Peeta's eyes meet large, dark brown ones. They glared intensely at him.

Peeta opened his mouth to speak but reconsidered when the knife pressed deeper into his throat.

"Did I tell you, you can speak?" The girl spat.

Peeta froze, trying to calm his body and mind down.

"Who are you?" The girl asked.

Still in shock, Peeta said nothing.

"Speak!" She barked in his face.

"I-I'm Peeta." He stuttered, hoping that was what she wanted to know.

"Well, Peeta. Why the hell am I in the forest with you?" She replied.

"I-I don't know." Peeta answer promptly.

"Wrong answer." She rebutted, pressing down on the knife more.

Peeta stopped breathing. He was starting to actually believe that this girl could kill him.

"I'm sorry." He cried.

"Aww, you think crying-" She started, but the next second she was stiff on the dirt, the knife flung from her still hand.

Peeta quickly moved to his feet and dropped the sizable rock in his hand.

He got to see the girl who earlier held a knife at his throat. She was small in frame, much smaller than him, but he could tell that she was in her teens, no younger than fourteen.

He wondered what fourteen years old had no second thoughts about killing someone, but soon he realized that perhaps like him, she couldn't remember how she got there and was scared. However, that did not justify holding a knife to his neck.

Two blood trail trickle down the side of her face and Peeta realizing how hard he might have hit her, rushed to her side, checking for a pulse.

He sighed in relief to feel a slow, but sure pulse at the side of her neck. She was alive, which was a blessing and curse in itself because although Peeta was relieved of the guilt that came with the thought of killing another human, he knew that when she woke up that she'll most likely slit his throat without any hesitation.

His logical mind was telling him to get away as far as possible before she had the chance of waking up, but his more thoughtful side looked around and decided that leaving her defenseless in the forest, when it was getting dark was not a nice thing to do.

His internal struggle ended with him, picking up the knife that was flung from her hands, and searching her body for any other hidden weapon. He was sure to not touch any part of her body that would violate her personal privacy.

All he had to do now was to wait for her to wake up.

Finch was conflicted, which was a state she hated to be in.

She was overall a decisive person, just not right now. She was supposed to leave hours ago, but instead, she has been pacing back and forth, waiting, looking at them, biting her nails and pacing some more.

She hated being indecisive, but she hated not knowing things even more, and write now she knew nothing.

She didn't remember how she got there. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know who the two teens laying on the ground were or if they were going to wake up anytime soon.

She didn't want to leave. She might be clever, but bravery wasn't a strength of Finch. It was getting dark and the thought of wandering through the forest by herself even to find answers was not excited to her. So, she stayed. Looking at them, waiting, pacing. She looked and analyzed their every detail so much that she felt she already knew so much about them.

There was the olive-skin boy, who wore a woven bracelet on his right wrist. He was young, probably a year older than her. His hands were rough and chapped, which made Finch assume that he was most likely poor. His face was average, his only interesting feature being his glowing tan.

In contrast, the girl was anything but average. Even in her seeming lifeless state, her blonde hair soiled with dirt and her lips dry, she still looked attractive. She somehow reminded Finch of the fairy tale legend called Sleeping Beauty. Earlier Finch could not resist reaching out and running her fingers through the girl's yellow hair but quickly retracted her hand, fearing how creepy she would seem if the girl suddenly woke up to see her running her hands through her hair.

A groan indicated that one of the two was walking up. Finch looked closely to see that it was the boy. She thought about what she should say or what she shouldn't say. She wasn't the best in the social department and Finch hoped that her social awkwardness wouldn't show, much.

At first, the boy didn't notice her, being busy observing the trees above him and gripping his right arm in pain, using that as a cue to say something, Finch spoke up, "Are you alright?"

He suddenly sat up and Finch could tell that he was shocked seeing her standing there.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"My name is Finch." She introduced herself, stepping forward. The boy leaned away from her, causing Finch to stop in her tracks. Of course, he would be wary about her approaching him.

"You don't remember anything, do you?" She implored.

When he made no signs of answering her, she answered her own question, in a whisper. "It's ok. I don't remember anything either."

"Where are we?" He asked.

Finch shrugged. She guessed it would not have been a bad idea to explore before so that she could get some clues about where they were, but she didn't want to leave fearing that she could not make her way back.

"I'm sorry about your arm." Finch expressed, trying to fill the silence.

The boy peered up at her. His eyes filled with curiosity before his eyes caught the body of the girl near him.

"Who is she?" He asked, trying to get a better view of the girl.

Again, Finch shrugged, and the feeling of not knowing things bothered her deeply once again. "She hasn't woken up yet."

"How long have you been up?" The boy turned his attention back to Finch.

"Not long." Finch lied. "A few minutes before you woke up."

The boy nodded. Looking into his eyes, Finch realized that his eyes were very light brown. She liked them.

A second later, she realized how ridiculous that statement was; liking someone's eyes. It was times like these that she appreciated her usual habit of not saying out loud most of what she was thinking.

"How long do you think I'll take her to wake up?" He nodded towards the girl on the ground.

"Not long, I hope," Finch whispered, more to herself than to the boy.

God! I am reading over this and I realized how bad of a writer I was in high school. I plan on editing and reuploading all prior chapters before writing more, this story needs to be cleaned up.