Death of Autumn

2nd Annual Pupper Games

Day 1:

The mother of District 13's tribute, Death of Autumn, carries her pup by the scruff to be presented. Her eyes betray her, revealing pain and inner turmoil, but she keeps her head high and she walks with as much pride as she can muster. She sets her precious cargo down carefully, a small ball of brown and rust fluff. She whispers something to pup, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and raises her head to meet the eyes of the peacekeepers. Her eyes burn with hatred, with the scorching heat of a mother's love. Then, without a word, she leaves. She does not dare look back at her son.

Aut was born with 52% survival chance, the most robust pup born to the pack on the first day of winter.

All wolves must die. All wolves must serve. But what do we say to the gods of Death?: "Not today."

Let the games begin. 

Day 2:

Aut awakens in a small hollow within the trunk of a tree, cold but not shivering thanks to the tree breaking the wind, and the small pile of feathers and rushes he was able to gather before nightfall.  The pangs of hunger begin to nip at his stomach, but for now he will bide his time and conserve his precious energy, waiting for others to fall to nature's cold kisses. Perhaps tomorrow he'd make his move. Not today.

Death of Autumn survived the first night with 37% chance.

Day 3:

When morning light reaches into his hollow to stir him from sleep, Aut realizes that his hunger pangs had become much more severe. Today he'd be forced to leave the safety and warmth of his little hollow. The first snow of winter had begun to fall, and Aut allows himself a moment of wonder as he takes small, careful steps, his pawsteps crunching in a way so different from the crunch of autumn leaves, but no less satisfying. It's then that he sees his target; a small, white stoat not yet aware of his presence. He does his best to stalk the creature until he is close enough to kill in one swift movement, but just before the moment becomes ripe he takes a false step, pain burning hot and cold from his left forepaw. Aut lets out a pained shriek of a yelp and the stoat runs. Aut knows he's missed his chance. He examines his paw pads, finding several large thorns stuck deep. He pulls the thorns out with a growl that turns to a yelp, and is shocked as blood begins to pour from the wound. He feels dizzy at the sight, but he has enough of his wits about him to know that he's made too much noise, and the thick scent of his blood would attract danger. He retreats back to his hollow, still hungry, repeating the mantra his mother taught him; What do we say to the gods of death? Not today. Not today. Not today.

Oh no! Death of Autumn gained a small injury and suffered -5 HP. He survives the night with 22% survival chance.

Day 4:

With his newfound strength after the feast, Aut realized that the next day or so would be the best chance he'd have to take an active role in the games. He didn't want to, and his mother hadn't told him to, but he knew that the only way he could survive would be if he was the last one alive.

It was Victoria, Ten's tribute, who he came upon first. He tried so hard to he strong, to end it quickly, but he was too weak. When the blood began to flow and the other pup began crying for her mother, he couldn't keep hurting her. His mother had told him all about the games, and how the other pups weren't his enemies. He didn't fully understand who it was his mother was mad at, but she had made it clear that the other pups would be just like him. He let her go, then, sparing her life, even if that would be crueler in the end. When Victoria looked back to say thank you, his fur burned with shame.

Death of Autumn survives with 29% chance.