WHO| Some and Eliot and anyone with Eliot.
WHAT| Some's not willing to kill yet? That just means it's his turn first.
WHEN| Just a few nights into the games.
WHERE| The second largest island
WARNINGS/NOTES| Death, maneater.

The prison- arena, they'd called it an arena- was hell. Some had escaped the first day without fighting anyone, had only fled into the undergrowth, hiding away from the sunlight. Whatever the woman who'd accompanied him after the hovercraft ride had rubbed into his fur had been protecting him, but he didn't trust it, especially not after his swim. His fur had dried in stiff, sticky spikes, and he didn't dare take the time to groom- time spent in that was time he needed to be watching out for other contestants. He didn't want to kill anyone. But that wouldn't keep them from trying to kill him.

At least they weren't all humans.

He moved at night, from the bigger island to the next one, the other one with trees, hoping that fewer of the tributes would have gone there for refuge. He built himself a canopy of the leaves, though handling them made his palms itch and redden, and endured the day beneath it, low to the ground as a turtle. Once, he heard a few of them pass close, chasing or being chased, and he huddled small. He waited, even though hunger twisted at him.

Only at night could he make himself come out. Insects whirred in the trees as he pushed up his thick blanket of leaves and slunk out, keeping to all eight limbs, his long, lean body low to the ground. He moved silently, listening, and heard nothing, until he reached the beach. There, he opened his eyes wide to take in all the light he could, and stood slowly up on all fours, then up to only his hind legs, making himself as tall as he could, staring out to sea.

There was nothing but stars. As far as he could see, there were no lights, no other land.

Something struck him a moment later, sharp and fast. He yelped and dropped back to all fours as the big white bird wheeled away, and another just missed raking his face with its cruel beak. He cursed himself for not noticing them wheeling above him. A third dove, and he covered his head with his arms, turning to run down the white sand beach as fast as he could, to leave them behind.

WHO| Lorne and open
WHAT| Lorne venturing out in search of food.
WHEN| Day 3ish
WHERE| P 4 area
WARNINGS/NOTES|None

Trees were nice, they provided shade and shelter, and something to scurry up at the slightest noise. That was currently Lorne's life. Two days down and god knew how many to go.With all that the trees provided him the one thing he needed was food. Coconut water was fine, but he had never really been a fan of the meat. It wasn't the flavor it was the consistency, namely the one of tree bark.

So he was leaving his beloved trees in search of food. He was hoping to get some sort of fish and hope it didn't kill him, or end up giving him a really bad trip. He had never really had problems with food. He could last a few days without it, and after eating the slop served in Pylea dumpster diving seemed like fine dining.

He edged out to the water hoping to find a meal and not end up someone else's.