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» Callahan, Uaithne, 97th Games || lava caverns || D5m
Uaithne Callahan
 Posted: Feb 28 2011, 01:13 PM
97th Games
19 Years
160 LBS
District Five
11-November 10 • 315 Moneys


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Full Name: Uaithne Callahan
Current Age: 17
District: 5

Game Number: 97
Age at Games: 17
Arena Summary: lava cavern
How Character Won: Uaithne hid for the majority of the Games. While he met up with a couple people during the Games themselves, he mostly avoided danger until the last day, when he had to kill people to win.
Foes Faced:
Kills: Ambrose Nike (D1), Logan Cramer (D6)
Length of Games: 8 days
Important Happenings:
  • Entered the arena with his little sister, Lilly.
  • Lilly died in his arms when Ambrose Nike shot her on the second day.
  • Uaithne carried Lilly’s body around the arena for awhile before “burying” it in the river.
  • Roamed the caves, open grounds, and forest.
  • Stalked Bane Lincoln (D12) and Logan Cramer. Met up with Logan.
  • Hid until Day 8, when he sought revenge against Lilly’s murderer and killed Ambrose Nike.
  • Killed Logan Cramer to become the victor.

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Name: Gem
Previous Characters: Ro and Gem
How Did You Hear About Us?: Me
Have You Read the HG Books?: Yes, all.

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Written Description: Uaithne is 5’9” and 160 lbs. He looks like his older brother Ronan, except without the crazy gleam in his eyes.
Type of Clothing: (remember, this is more or less modern day!)

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General Personality: Most people peg Uaithne as the nervous sort. He’s quiet, introverted, and very much a follower of his older brother Ronan. Wherever his brother goes, Uaithne goes. Whatever his brother tells him to do, Uaithne does. He never has anything to say of his own, and he doesn’t defend himself verbally or physically. When he was reaped for the 97th Games, most people figured he’d be dead on the first day. This isn’t to say that people disliked Uaithne; many felt sorry for him for having an older brother who was a jackass and parents who abandoned him. But most pitied him because both he and his little sister were reaped at the same time.

But what people don’t generally know about Uaithne is that he does have a personality of his own. He’s passive and allows people—particularly his brother—to walk over him, but he is no less of a human being. He enjoys being out of doors and walking around the districts, playing catch in the park, and climbing trees. He’s creative, but not in the strategic sense; building things with his hands comes naturally to him, and though he’s not that fantastic of a botanist, he can use his creativity towards sculpting pots for the flowers. Reading is one of his favorite pastimes, and he loves to learn new things.




Thoughts about His/Her District:
Thoughts on the Hunger Games:

Role in Family:
Role in Society:
Anticipation for the Future:

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Family: Uaithne has an older brother, Ronan (23), who was the victor of the 91st Hunger Games. His little sister, Lilly (14), entered the 97th Hunger Games with him, and was killed on the second day. The Callahan parents abandoned their children six years ago, and Uaithne only sees them on occasion, mostly by accident.

Background: For the first eleven years of his life, everything was normal for the young District 5 resident. He had two parents, an older brother, and a younger sister. They lived in a nice house, and his parents had good jobs. Never once did they worry about not having enough food on the table.

Although he was closer in age to his sister Lilly, Uaithne had more in common with his brother Ronan, and the two of them were inseparable. They spent their time creating havoc in D5, and Uaithne did everything his older brother told him to. People learned that Uaithne was the devoted sidekick of Ronan, and they also learned not to pick on Uaithne for his timid nature, because Ro was always there to beat the crap out of them if they hurt his brother. Anyone who mocked Ro for hanging out with his kid brother also got a black eye. People were wary of the Callahan boys, though it was mostly because of Ro’s aggression and short temper. Uaithne did everything his older brother instructed, and leaned against him as a crutch, even when Ro suggested things which would get them in trouble and Uaithne knew were wrong.

Uaithne didn’t have too much trouble in school academically, though he wasn’t a genius. He did well in all his subjects and, like other District 5 students, studied to become a worker in the inedible plant industry. At his young age, he never really gave a thought as to whether it was what he really wanted to do since it was the only option. But Uaithne was never one to make decisions anyhow; most things were decided for him.

When he was eleven, his family fell apart. Ronan was reaped for the 91st Hunger Games, and Uaithne realized he couldn’t survive without his brother. He spent his days lying listlessly on the ground, unable to go to school, and unable to watch the television. He hid behind the couch with tears dribbling down his cheeks, and refused to move to eat. But the worst wasn’t over yet. Upon Ro’s reaping, the Callahan parents up and abandoned Uaithne and Lilly. Unable to deal with the stress of losing a child in the Games, they found it easier to pretend that the children never even existed. Therefore, as Ronan entered the arena, Uaithne and Lilly had to fend for themselves. Uaithne was simultaneously afraid to watch television and afraid to not watch television, and he barely moved during the day as he lay on the living room carpet. He would sometimes sit with Lilly on the couch and hold her as they watched the Games, fearing that at any moment, their brother would die. Neither of the two children knew how to survive on their own, but neither of them had the stomach to eat much from the cupboard anyhow. It was Lilly who managed to pull things together for them to eat so that they didn’t waste away in front of the television.

Uaithne had never been happier in his life then when the Games ended and Ro returned home. His brother was different in ways Uaithne didn’t understand, but he was still his brother. The three of them moved into Ro’s new home in the victor village which had more space than they needed. They kept themselves busy and did well as a family unit despite not having their parents to take care of them. Sometimes Uaithne lay awake at night, and he could hear his brother screaming in his sleep from the next bedroom. Uaithne would cover his ears with his pillow and pretend that his stable older brother wasn’t falling apart. He was the last thing Uaithne had besides his little sister, and the only one who could take care of the already-crumbling family.

From then on, Uaithne didn’t attend school when he could get away with it. There was leniency because his brother was a victor, and Uaithne went often enough that it wasn’t considered a severe problem. Still, he enjoyed following his brother around the districts as Ronan continued to create chaos; it felt like the old days, and that was all he desired.

Life passed. Uaithne grew up, amusing himself with soccer, his siblings and his schoolwork—when he did it. He knew the chances of being reaped were almost zero since his brother had gone to the Games, and there were so many eligible children that he didn’t think too much about it. At least, not in the same sense that most kids did. Every time the Games rolled around, he always remembered the 91st Games, and how his family had changed forever. He never feared that his or Lilly’s name would be in it, but it would bring a fresh round of pain. Until the 97th Hunger Games. By some crazy anomaly, both he and his sister were chosen.

Only one of them could live.

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Games Number: 97
Age at Games: 17
Description of Arena: A giant, cavern-like structure with only darkness for a roof. It was filled with lava and fire; everything bore a strange, red glow.
Foes Faced:
Notable Kills: Ambrose Nike, D1; Logan Cramer, D6
Length of Games: 8 days
Important Happenings:
  • Entered the arena with his little sister, Lilly.
  • Lilly died in his arms when Ambrose Nike shot her on the second day.
  • Uaithne carried Lilly’s body around the arena for awhile before “burying” it in the river.
  • Roamed the caves, open grounds, and forest.
  • Stalked Bane Lincoln (D12) and Logan Cramer. Met up with Logan.
  • Hid until Day 8, when he sought revenge against Lilly’s murderer and killed Ambrose Nike.
  • Killed Logan Cramer to become the victor.
Account of Games:

Ro keeps blaming himself. He doesn’t know that I know, but I can see it in his eyes. He doesn’t want me to see his weakness, so I don’t bring it up; it’s the least I can do considering the position he’s in. Both Lilly and I are going to the Games and at best, only one of us can survive.

I’m scared. I don’t think anyone’s surprised that I barely move, and Lilly appears to be the one who’s holding up the best. Ronan keeps yelling at the escort and prep team, even though they’re trying to help us win the Games. It’s for their own prestige and they don’t care if we live or die as long as it brings them glory, so I can see where Ro’s coming from, but it’s not helping us when he keeps throwing things at them. The train rocks back and forth, and that in and of itself is already making me sick. I should be enjoying the last few days I have alive, but I can’t bring myself to do anything more than huddle in a ball on my bed and allow Lilly to visit me. She’s trying hard to be strong for the both of us, which just makes me feel like shit. She sits next to me on my bed and doesn’t say anything as we wait for the train to arrive at the training centre.

If there’s one thing I’m glad about, it’s that I can be with my family. I am selfish for thinking this because I know it means that Lilly has to die, too, but I don’t want to be alone. She holds my hand and tells me everything’s going to be okay, which is sweet of her because she’s being so brave. Normally I’d shrug out of her grip, but I’m grateful for her presence. When we arrive at the Capitol, I have to be strong; I wish I could take this moment and keep it forever so I don’t have to leave my sister.

Prep Week is synonymous with hell. I suck at all the stations I try out, but I never was one who was good with weapons. I can run, though, but no one really cares about that. They don’t care about endurance either. It’s all about swinging a weapon and hitting the target, so I know I’m screwed. Ronan’s in a bitchy mood (I can say that because I’m his brother) and it keeps getting worse as the week goes along. He hates the prep team and the escort and the other victors, and he doesn’t try to hide it. I don’t have the energy to try to cheer him up, but I try to remain positive. I stay close to him and to Lilly, and every waking moment I spend with my siblings.

Just a couple days before we’re to enter the arena, Ro tries to kill Lilly and me. We don’t think much of it as he messes up my hair and gives Lilly a kiss on the head. His eyes are red, and he looks like he’s been crying, but he’s boisterous as ever, so most people would assume he’s drunk. He tells us how much he loves us, which is odd, but we don’t question it. He puts something in our drinks when we aren’t looking—a sprig of a leaf meant to poison—and I have already consumed half of my drink when Lilly loses grip on her cup and it shatters on the ground. The liquid splashes across the floor and there, not fully dissolved, lies the sprig amongst the shards of glass. Coming from District 5, we immediately recognize what it is, and I dump my glass out to find a partially-disintegrated leaf in my cup, too. I sleep well the rest of the evening and into the morning, but I didn’t consume enough to die. I don’t hate Ronan for it, though; it catches me off guard because I didn’t realize how scared he was that he’d go through such lengths for us. What would have happened if he was successful? Surely the Capitol would have punished him greatly.

Unfortunately, Prep Week ends too soon. They’re getting us ready to go in the arena, dressing us in the uniforms, and soon I have to say goodbye. I give my siblings hugs, but I’m unable to tell them how much I love them.

Then I’m standing on a platform about to rise up into the arena. I’m scared witless, and my body trembles visibly. I haven’t had anything to eat or drink this morning, and I know I’m going to regret it, but it’s either no food or it’ll return all on me when I’m raised into the arena. And I’d hate to have the sensor bombs detonated before the Games begin because I accidentally puked on them. I feel the heat of the arena on my skin before I can see what the arena actually is, and already my mind goes numb in fear. Was Ro this scared?

There’s a difference between watching it on television and actually being in the arena. If you haven’t been in the arena, you can only imagine what it’s like to be there, but your imagination will do it no justice. It’s the heat that makes it more vivid, and immediately I’m saturated with sweat even though I haven’t moved. But it’s the fact that I see this with my own eyes and without the Capitol’s camera perspective that makes it so real. I hear the breathing of the other Tributes.

My eyes search for Lilly. I want to see her face now to make sure she’s okay even though we haven’t left our positions on our silver disks. I can’t find her, but I know the Capitol won’t try to keep us too separated; they love the drama that both of us were reaped, even if most Capitolites don’t—or won’t—understand it. It is Ronan’s fault, and after we’re dead, he’ll have to live with the fact that if he hadn’t burst out in anger at the Capitol during his own Games, we’d be alive. There’s no point in thinking about it any longer, and the timer is running down. My sixty seconds to observe the arena are wasting away, and if I’m not careful, I’ll be dead in a matter of seconds. I can’t stop shaking, and I wonder how Ro was able to appear so calm on camera when he was standing here six years ago.

The gong goes off, and I still can’t move. I flinch as everyone runs towards the Cornucopia to grab their weapons and supplies, but I remain frozen in place. Then some kid near me is killed—and it all hits me. I have to move. But I can’t because he’s bleeding everywhere, and my first reaction is to help him, that is, if I could get over the complete and utter shock. I can smell the blood and hear the way he gurgles when he tries to breathe. I have to move.

I have to keep Lilly safe.

Kicking into gear, I begin to hop across the stones away from the Cornucopia. My number one priority is locating my sister and making sure no one hurts her. I stumble across some item on the ground and take it because it’s better than nothing, when it occurs to me that I have to have something with which I can protect Lilly. I hop back over towards where the weapons are and, when everyone is distracted, steal a spiky weapon and a slingshot. Then I see the District 1 Career aiming an arrow at me. Without hesitating, I flee.

For awhile I wander around dazed and try to stick to Ronan’s words of advice. But I’m so hellbent on finding Lilly that I can’t do much else. Besides, the arena is hot, and my clothes stick to my back with sweat. I’m miserable in every sense of the word.

“Psst, Uaithne!” I hear, and I turn to see Lilly crouching in the tall, yellow grasses. Relief passes through me, and I kneel down next to her and pull her into a hug. For once things seem right even though I know they’re so wrong. She continues, “I got some water.”

“Great,” I say. Because I didn’t get any at all. She pulls out a bottle of water. It’s small, but we take turns sipping from it. There’s no way it’ll last long, especially not between the two of us. We sit down on the thin earth with the grasses to hide us, and begin to discuss our plans. Our voices are low, but I’m still afraid that others will hear us and kill us.

“The Careers have water,” she suggests, and I start.

“No way,” I say. I can’t go and fight those Careers, not when they got their weapons of choice. They’d kill me, and what would then become of Lilly? She’d have no one to protect her and still no water. She tries to argue with me, but I won’t listen. We can find our own source of water. “Let’s just get some sleep and tomorrow we’ll go looking for a spring or something.”

“Fine,” she says, but I can tell she’s ticked. Regardless, she curls up on the ground, and I lay down next to her. There’s a pause, and she says, “Uaithne, you okay?”

I stare up at the darkened void that serves as the sky above us. No, I’m not okay. I’m in the arena, and even if I keep my sister safe until the end, one of us is going to have to kill the other. I don’t want to die, but I can’t bear to slaughter my own sister. It’s something I’ve thought about over and over since we were reaped, and I don’t bother wasting any more tears on it. Besides, I’m in the arena now, on national television, and no one wants to see me cry. We need all the help we can get from sponsors, and they will only give assistance to the strong Tributes. I take a deep breath.

“I’m a little hot, tired and thirsty, but other than that, I’m okay,” I say. There’s another pause, and we both laugh because it’s so ridiculous, there’s no bother trying to hide the truth. Neither of us is okay, and her question was so absurd that there’s no true way to answer it.

“Uaithne, I love you,” she says. I look at her, and I’m not sure what to make of the gleam in her eyes. There’s great sadness there, and it’s almost like she’s saying goodbye.

Even though I’m not able to interpret it, I respond back to her, “Love you, too. You’re my favorite sister.”

That makes her smile, and she closes her eyes. I suppose one or the other of us should be keeping watch, but I’m exhausted and can only think about getting something to drink, so I fall asleep, too. Despite the heat of the arena, I like having my sister next to me, knowing that she’s okay.

When I wake up a couple hours later, I wake alone. Lilly’s gone, and terror seizes me. My mind flips through a hundred different scenarios, all of them involving her demise, though some more violent than others. I force myself to stay calm and not panic since it’ll do me no good. She left me with the bottle of water, and the fact that I’m alive right now means that she wasn’t ambushed in her sleep. She wandered off by herself for one reason or another, and she’s probably either dead or dying. I yearn to find her and make sure she’s safe; my hand clamps over the handle of the spiky weapon I picked up in the Cornucopia. It’s a sturdy weapon and one that probably doesn’t require great skill; I’m strong enough that I can use it if I need to. The question is whether or not I’ll have the inner strength to bring myself to smash it into someone’s head. If someone hurt Lilly, I could, I think as I give the weapon a practice swing. But I don’t move; I remain where I am because I’m too scared that if I leave to find her, I’ll never see her again. Or maybe I’m scared that I will find her, and she’ll be dead. Either way, I remain crouched on the ground.

Lilly returns. I sigh heavily and am about to chide her for leaving without telling me when I see that she’s running oddly. Not the manner in which she’s running as much as the speed. Someone is chasing her. Keeping low, I lift myself to my feet and hold out my hand, ready to start running as soon as she reaches me. But she doesn’t get that far before she trips. Her ankle rolls, and she stumbles. I move forward to help her, but she comes to a complete stop. Why does she stop? C’mon, Lilly, I think. Just keep moving!

But then I see the blood at her mouth. Her eyes are wide, and there’s blood dribbling from her lips. My mind doesn’t process it, and I want her to continue moving.

Why is she bleeding?

Lilly falls into my arms. I catch her and hold her tightly, ready to drag her along with me if I have to. An arrow juts from her back, and I gag. Blood pours from the wound and stains her uniform. I clutch her and hold her close as though I can somehow make it all better even though I know the truth. Her breath is on my neck; it’s ragged and gurgling as she chokes on her own blood. All I can do is hold onto her and keep her calm, though I know that she can feel how hard my heart’s pounding. I start babbling something about it being all right, but it won’t be.


I look up, and there’s the District 1 Career who almost took me out at the Bloodbath. It’s Ambrose Nike, and the look in his eyes says that he wants me dead. Isn’t it bad enough he killed my sister? I fumble for something to say, but nothing comes out. Ambrose taunts me, and I can’t do anything but sit there and take it.

This is why Ronan risked his life to kill us. This is why he was willing to take the Capitol’s punishment in exchange for our lives. Because killing us on his terms is better than killing us on the Capitol’s, and at least we would have the decency to die in private. I bury my face in Lilly’s hair. It is bad enough that we have to die, but now Lilly is murdered live on national television. If death wasn’t bad enough, it is now humiliating and intrusive. This isn’t how I want anyone to remember my sister.

I can no longer feel her breath on my neck. She doesn’t move, and I can’t feel the steady heartbeat. In the sky, there’s the sound of a cannon. Lilly. . . !

I beg Ambrose to leave, but he continues to mock me. Finally he seems to grow infuriated that I’m not seeking retribution for his actions; he does nothing. Unsure as to why he’s not killing me, I take the opportunity to leave. I gather up my little sister in my arms, stand up, and don’t look back.

The grasses disappear as we reach a river, and now we’re exposed to anyone who wants to sneak up. Still, it’s water, and it’s running, which makes me hopeful that it’s not contaminated. I lay Lilly down and remove the arrow from her back. She looks like she’s sleeping now, and I don’t want to wake her. It’s been exhausting in the arena, and I’m about to fall asleep, too. My body is sore all over, and it’s been a strain to carry Lilly, our gear, and my weapons. There are blisters on my feet from the shoes, and on my hands from carrying the morning star. I settle down by the river and drink my share of water. Finally I manage to catch a fish, though it’s more luck than skill as I heave rocks into the rippling waves. But it allows me something to eat, and though I know I should save some for Lilly, she’s sleeping so soundly that I can’t bring myself to wake her. I brush her hair out of her face and watch her as she sleeps. Finally I know that I must move on or I’ll leave myself exposed to other Tributes, so I pick Lilly up and head across the river to the other side.

Lilly sleeps so deeply that I’m afraid to stop, but my eyelids are beginning to droop and my arms start to buckle underneath her weight. Finally I see a rock wall ahead of me, and I realize they’re caves. Relieved upon finding some sort of shelter, I creep towards the folds in the rock wall and find a cave that’s deep enough to conceal us. At last I’m able to rest, and I set Lilly down so she doesn’t wake. Stretching my arms, I try to remain limber and able to move in case we have to run. I don’t know what to expect in the caves; Gamemakers always have a way of throwing in surprises when people least expect it, and here in the safety of the cavern, I know that things are probably not as they seem. Lilly continues to sleep, and I brush her hair out of her face and remind her of the time we went to the park and she got stuck in the covered slide, and Ronan had to get her out, but then he got stuck, too. It was a great fiasco, and I spent the entire time laughing at the two of them screaming for help and cursing, though finally they were able to lodge themselves free with only a couple bruises to show. Recalling the memory makes me laugh a little, though I’m so weary that the laugh doesn’t sound right. Keeping my spiky weapon near me, I curl up next to my sister and fall asleep, promising her that we’d find a way to make it out.

I wake up well rested for the first time since I entered the arena. I don’t know what day it is and I’m thirsty and famished, but at least I don’t feel exhausted any longer. Lilly sleeps beside me, and I watch her for a few moments through foggy eyes before it occurs to me: Lilly’s not breathing.

Shooting straight up, I shake her shoulder. “Lilly? Lilly!” She’s not responding to me, and my chest tightens. Panic sets in on me, and I find myself once again struggling to remain calm. I roll her onto her back, tilt up her chin, and begin administering CPR. The mouth-to-mouth and chest compressions aren’t working.

Lilly’s dead. The thought comes to me like a punch to the stomach, and I sit back and stare at her dumbfounded as though she should have told me such a thing before. Her skin appears wrong and I remember yesterday. . . . The arrow. Ambrose the Career. Lilly. Tears roll down my cheeks, but I don’t try to hide them. Let me die because no one wants to sponsor a weak Tribute; I failed my duty to protect my sister, and therefore don’t deserve to live.

“Lilly. . .” I whisper as I tuck the lose strand of hair behind her ear. But I can’t get out any more than that before I begin to sob. It’s all I can do to keep the sound from echoing through the entire arena, and I slump against the rock cavern wall and give in to my sorrow. The Capitol may take my sister away from me, but they can’t remove my ability to mourn her loss. I cry for awhile, but eventually I run out of steam. My tears dry on my cheeks, and I remain motionless with my back against the wall and my legs pulled up against my chest. I rest my chin on my knees and absently play with a loose string on the hem of Lilly’s sleeve.

No, the Capitol can take away my ability to mourn. I am empty now; powerless. If I stay where I am, I am as good as dead; they won’t let me spend as much time as I need with her before it’s time to go. Besides, I realize with a roll of my stomach, Lilly’s already starting to display the signs of decay, and with the arena’s intense heat, it won’t be long before she starts smelling. There are no flies in the arena, at least, or else they’d be here by now. I wipe my eyes, gather my belongings, and pick up Lilly once more. This is the last time I’ll see my sister, and I refuse to say goodbye by leaving her in this dark cave. I can’t just leave her out in the open, either. Instinctively I head towards the river knowing that if I can’t bury her in the thin soil of the arena, I can at least bury her in the flowing river.

Wading into the water, I stand with Lilly half-held in my arms and half-supported by the current. The water begins to soak into her clothing and hair. It’s time to say goodbye, and I know I must. I lean over and kiss her forehead. “Goodbye,” I whisper. I release her, and the current carries her downstream. Unable to do much else, I walk to the edge of the bank and head upstream. The sound of the hovercraft hisses behind me, but I don’t look back.

For ages I wander around the river. Dazed, I head up and down before deciding that I have to leave the water source and venture out to other parts of the arena. I can’t rely solely on this water, and judging by the fact that I haven’t seen any other tributes out here, there must be another place to get something to drink. The waves as they lap against the banks do nothing but remind me about Lilly; I can’t stay here. So I leave the river and head south. It isn’t long until I’m at a forest, except instead of being a true forest, it’s dead. A reminder of what we’ll all be within a matter of days.

The forest is quiet; a little too quiet. Occasionally I hear creatures running through the fallen twigs, but every step I take is amplified to an unnatural extreme. Moving slowly is the only option I have. Picking my steps carefully, I continue through the forest with my senses as alert as I can make them. When hunger overcomes me, I grab my slingshot and plan to hunt myself something to eat, but it’s not long before I hear other people. My heart starts to pound, and I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be around other humans. The time I spent alone felt like several weeks, even though I know it can’t be possible.

Crouching behind a mass of gnarled roots, I listen to them. They talk about rats—muttations or something—and I wonder if they’ve come across anything that I should be aware of. The more they talk, though, the more I realize they’re discussing food options. My slingshot will come in handy at last! The two Tributes are the District 6 and 12 males; I try to recall their names, but it’s a mess, and I realize I don’t really care because in the end, we’ll all be dead. It’s a less-than-comforting thought, and I hate that I’m even thinking it, but it’s one of the truths about being a Tribute in the Hunger Games. Despite my hunger, I’m growing tired again; the emotional stress of being in the arena has worn me out, and I can do nothing but give in.

As I curl up in a ball next to the tree, I cling as closely to the weapon as I dare. It’s covered in spikes across the top, and I hope that I never have to use it. My eyelids flicker as they close, and I remember why I know the name of the weapon: it was the same thing that was used in the Games against my brother six years ago. And now it’s mine. The Capitol must love this, I think as I succumb to sleep.

Screams wake me up, and I jump to my feet with my weapon in hand. Alone in the arena, my only companion is the morning star, and I will be naked if I don’t have it with me. The clearing where the other Tributes slept is disturbed, and only one of the Tributes remains. A path of destruction leads away from their campsite; from that direction I hear the yelling. For several minutes, my sleepy brain tries to piece everything together; why would he take off running like that unless—unless something is trying to kill him. There’s a dangerous Tribute on the loose, and I don’t want to be caught. I crouch down, one knee pressed against the soil. There’s a movement near my foot, and I look down to see a snake wriggling in the dead earth. I jump backwards out of its path and breathe a sigh when it moved away. But in the same direction of the snake are two more—and then even more not but a few feet from where the other Tribute still sleeps. Did District 6 have a snake phobia or—I freeze. Muttations. Time to clear out of this place before I get bitten, too; if those screams hadn’t woken me up, I’d be good as dead. I watch the snake closest to me slither away, as though unphased I had seen through its plans.

I don’t know where to go, but following the other Tribute seems to be the best bet, though I don’t know why. Trying to keep to a side of the newly-formed trail, I move quickly in case any more snakes lurk in the woods.

There’s something wrong with the D6 Tribute, that’s easy enough to determine. We talk briefly, and he’s disoriented, but for reasons I don’t know, we stick together. Maybe I’m so determined to have company that I don’t care that I’m risking my life. He offers me some meat he has found, but I don’t trust that it’s kept long in the arena, and he’s still acting . . . off. We find the D12 boy dead, though I can’t say I’m surprised since he wasn’t moving with all the snakes slithering around him. By now the snakes are gone, and District Six and I share the loaf of bread the kid had on him. But that’s about it. Our encounter is but brief, and maybe it’s better off this way. We each have more food, and I take sparing sips from my water, so my stomach is content for now. He goes his way, and I’m left to do what I must to stay alive.

I spend the next two days alone. On the seventh day—at least, I think it’s the seventh day; I got confused back in the caves, and I’m trying to get my bearing still—the arena grows cold. Temperatures plummet below freezing, and I can only huddle in a ball to keep warm due to a lack of warm clothing. It would be good now to have another Tribute nearby to keep warm with, but I don’t know if I want to risk the chances. Time passes, and the slingshot comes in handy when I want to eat. I consume my water sparingly, though I know soon I’ll have to find my way back to the river to get more to drink. That’s when it occurs to me that the trees contain water frozen on their bark, so I slice off chips of ice and let them melt on my tongue while I wait to hit something to eat.

Funny, but the more time I spend in the arena, the more I am becoming used to being alone. I was never very good at being by myself, and I preferred to stick with Ronan when I could. But even now, if Ronan were here, I’m not sure he can help me. Yeah, he could crack jokes and tell me to suck it up, but I’m too scared and tired and hungry to do much else other than sit here. Day seven brings several cannon shots, and I wince every time I hear it. My mind flashes back to Lilly lying in my arms as she gasped for her last breaths. As I lean against a tree trunk to sleep, I can feel her phantom weight pressed against me; I wake up, choking and dizzy, but Lilly is nowhere to be seen. For hours I torture myself in such a manner as I try to force myself to sleep, but it’s no use. I need to get out of the arena before I go insane, and right now, I don’t care if it involves being in a wooden box.

The morning brings an announcement of a feast, and I know that people are growing tired of watching us sitting around freezing our asses off. It takes some time, but I stand up and work the kinks out of my joints before I begin to walk. I don’t have intentions of going to the feast, though I know that I can’t make it look like I’m avoiding it. Besides, I want to see who is left….

There is a fire ahead, and I can only follow the smell of the burning wood. Even though the arena was but a bath of flames a few days prior, the cold is getting to me and it sets into my bones. I walk stealthily; after moving around in this forest for the past few days, I know how to take each step with care and precision. There are voices ahead, and I crouch down in the bushes and listen, only daring to peek through the stubby branches after assuring myself that it’s safe. There are two tributes: a male and a female. One I think is from seven, and she doesn’t look good at all. The other is the same Tribute I met in the woods, though he appears to be more in control of his facilities. I want the fire. The arena is cold, so cold, and I can barely maintain enough heat. I leave.

When no cannon fire comes, I wander around looking for the feast. They didn’t exactly give me a map of the arena, and it’s quite easy to get lost. Or maybe that’s just me. When I finally find it, I sink down into the bushes and remain quiet. Three packages sit on the table; does that mean there are only three of us left? I can’t recall how many cannons I’ve heard, so I don’t want to bank on this idea.

The other Tributes come, and there are only three of them, which makes a total of four. Someone isn’t meant to get a package, and I’m not willing to step out there and battle people to get it, so whatever is in those boxes aren’t for me. All three Tributes—Ambrose, the girl from seven and the boy from six—look beat up. Severely beat up. I hate seeing Ambrose; every time I look at him, I can only think of him as the guy who murdered my little sister. Lilly did nothing to him, but she’s dead now because he killed her. A knot in my stomach tightens, and I resist the urge to vomit. My sickness turns into anger, and my anger evolves into wrath. Hatred. I want to kill Ambrose. I want to strangle him with my hands and watch the life drain out of his pathetic eyes. I want to kill him as he killed Lilly, and I want to make him suffer. My hand tightens on the morning star, and I know that I will kill him. A tear runs down my filthy cheek, and I wipe it away, though it does nothing more than smear grime across my face. A part of me manages to remain calm enough to not charge through the undergrowth and attack Ambrose.

That is, until he shoots me in the face. I have never experienced such pain before, and the intensity is overwhelming. It hits me at an angle that doesn’t allow it to stick, but it tears across my face and the blood runs down my skin and drips onto my shirt and the forest floor. Tears well up in my eyes, this time from pain, and I have to bite back the scream that’s threatening to rise in my throat.

I am running. I don’t remember standing, but I’m charging this bastard with my morning star raised, and he’s going down. The bastard will die for what he did to my sister! The scream’s coming out of my mouth, but it’s no longer a scream but a war cry. I swing the weapon, and catch him in the arm.

I won’t be Ambrose’s victim.

He will not kill me.

But he won’t go down without a fight, either. He stabs me with a knife, and I deliver a blow to his chest that downs him. Bones crunch as the weapon slams into him, and I hear the whoosh of his breath as it’s stolen away.

Oh, God, what have I done? Ambrose is down now, and it’s only then that I realize the consequences of my actions. My rage left unchecked turned to such violence that I became as much of a monster as Ambrose was—no, more. Because Lilly’s death was swift, and Ambrose now will die slowly as his lungs collapse from the hit. I’m a mess of blood and tears and mucus, though it’s the least of my problems as I fumble for something to say to make it right.

I’ll never make it right.

He’s going to die.

Like Lilly died.

Ambrose is resilient. He sends an arrow into my knee, and I fall to the ground in pain. I try to say something, but he swings his knife and misses. It’s pathetic, and I can barely stand to see what I’ve done. The ground is coated in blood which the dry earth eagerly soaks up, and I can see the hurt in his expression. My wounds, though painful, are nothing compared to what he’s suffering. I must end his suffering. But I fumble for my knife, and it slips out of my hand. Ambrose mocks me, but I barely hear, and I can only feel sorry for him.

Now I must do what I have to do to end his pain.

I have to take responsibility for my actions.

Inhale. Exhale. You can do this.

Where’s Ro? I want Ro. He’ll make everything better. –No, he won’t. He won’t because he’ll probably laugh and walk away, or maybe he’d taunt the dying kid or something. Ro’s not cruel; he’s not. But he deals with things different, and now I must deal with this on my own without assistance. I don’t need Ro now; I can’t have him here with me.

The longer I take, the harder this will be. I adjust my grip on the knife (I’ve only used it for food and flowers, damn it) and hold it in the air. Then I plunge it down into his neck. Blood sprays into the air as I pull the knife out and sit back on the ground.

Exhaust and pain overtake me as I try not to think about what I just did. But at last, I face the consequences of my actions. Ambrose Nike of District 1 is dead because of me, and tonight his family would mourn his loss and curse Uaithne Callahan of District 5 who mercilessly stole their child from them. I’m a murderer. But I reach out with shaking hands and place the bow on his chest and wrap his fingers around it. Then I stand up and leave.

It suffices to say that I’m shaken. I’m hurt and I have an arrow in my leg and a gash in my cheek, but more than anything, I’m scared. Traumatized. I don’t have time to pity myself, though; there’s still something I have to do, and judging by the sound of cannon shots, there is only one other person left in the arena, maybe two if I counted wrong.

I have a chance.

It’s slim, but I may live. I try to keep myself alert and balanced, though my body aches all over.

The District Six male enters. I know what I have to do.

The battle is short. One-sided. I have a morning star, and he has small objects and his own fists. He puts up a fight, though, and I’m so hurt, that if I didn’t have my weapon, I would be dead. I guess the morning star was a good choice from the Cornucopia, even if I only drew it on a whim. To protect Lilly. Now it’s protecting me.

As I’m killing him, I hate myself. The knife sinks into his throat as it did for Ambrose, but I hate that I’m doing this, and there’s nothing else that can be done. District Six was a good guy; a little weird when we met, but he wasn’t some evil bastard. And yet, I kill him. In District Six, his family would be mourning, and Ambrose’s was right now. But if I had died—who would I have to mourn my loss? Only Ro, and Ro knew I wasn’t going to win.

Is it right that District Six is dead, and I am not?

I rip the knife from his throat and blood spurts into the air before splashing back down. Falling onto the ground, I yelp in pain as the arrow sinks further into my knee.

I have to get away. I struggle to drag myself further from District Six. I don’t want to see what I have done. My fingers dig into the dirt, and I kick at the ground in my attempt to escape.

Agony—I’m in complete agony, and each time I move, it sends a jolt of pain through my entire body. But I can’t stop moving—can’t give up—can’t stop moving. Can’t—

Darkness consumes me.

Uaithne Callahan
 Posted: Sep 3 2012, 07:28 PM
97th Games
19 Years
160 LBS
District Five
11-November 10 • 315 Moneys


Skills Acquired:
  • PLANTS – Uaithne has studied plants, both terrestrial and aquatic. This has been touched upon in many threads throughout gameplay.

  • DRIVING – Uaithne can drive. Kind of. You probably don’t want to get behind the wheel with him until he has a little more practice.

  • POTTERY – This is Uaithne’s victor talent. He’s no mastermind, but he knows a bit about making pots.

Weaknesses Assessed:
  • FEAR – Ever since returning from two rounds of the Hunger Games, Uaithne has been mentally frail, oftentimes delving into the depths of insanity before being pulled back to reality by his brother Ronan or their friend Brianna. He finds himself jumping because of shadows that lurk in reality and in his mind.

  • BREAKDOWNS – As with above, Uaithne experiences mental breakdowns. Once he blacked out and lit a bus on fire.

  • LILLY – Uaithne still struggles with Lilly’s death, even though he is aware that only one of them could have won at best, and he had no true control in her murder. He managed to avenge Lilly’s death, but it did little to ease the pain. Sometimes Uaithne hallucinates Lilly’s presence.

Further Character Development
Uaithne Callahan has been through much during his time on Sixth Station. He went from being an odd and frightened boy who was reaped with his little sister in the 97th Hunger Games to an odd and frightened young man whose existence is constantly threatened by the Capitol. He watched his sister die in the 97th Hunger Games, and then he returned in the Victor Games (100.A) alongside his older brother Ronan.

Faux independence – since he was a kid, Uaithne was known as “Ronan’s little brother” or “Ronan’s sidekick.” Following his victor-hood, he and Ronan decided that he had to make himself a separate person. Uaithne then adopted a tough-looking dog, dyed his hair, put on eyeliner, and changed his style of clothing. However, due to the fact that he is not fundamentally any different than he was before the wardrobe change, he still struggles with maintaining a strong and independent attitude.

I’m sorry, Uaithne. What have I done to you?

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