a) As the timer counts down, Arya eyes the cornucopia, wondering if she can hang back during the inevitable scramble for its resources, then slip in and grab something - anything - that might help her. But once the gong sounds and other tributes head for it, once she sees the utter carnage unfold before her, she finds that she freezes on the spot, just staring at the bloodbath at the cornucopia. She's seen enough blood and death to last her a lifetime, thought she'd started to become immune to it, but that had at least had some purpose behind it she could understand, not simply slaughter for entertainment. Although she wouldn't put it past Joffrey to watch something like this for fun.

When she snaps to her senses, she instinctively runs in the other direction. She's frustrated with herself for doing so, imagining there must be some way she could have used the chaos to her advantage and sneaked in, swift as a deer and quiet as a shadow, but the moment's gone now. Besides, she knows that she can't go looking for trouble, but instead just needs to stay alive.


b) She heads into the forest, picking up a rather sharp stick from the ground and clenching it in her fist as a pretty feeble attempt at self defense, walking slowly and quietly and sticking close to the shadows of the trees. After a couple of weeks in the Capitol, it's nice to be back out in the fresh air. It's the first place that's felt anything like her own world - up to and including the knowledge that most everyone she meets wants to harm her.

She hears footsteps nearby, and isn't sure whether she's imagining it in her paranoia, and if it is real whether it's another tribute or an animal, and if it's an animal whether it's the kind that she can eat or will eat her. She glances up at the tree trunks, wishing they were anything but pine so she could scramble up them. She's certain Bran would have been able to climb them, before, even without any low hanging limbs to aid him. But as for herself all she can do is flit from trunk to trunk, sheltering behind each one no longer than she has to, heading downhill in the hope that there may be a better hiding place further down and that the footsteps will recede rather than continue following her.


c) She's overjoyed when she finds that her trail has taken her to the river. She splashes cold water over her face, then cups her hands and drinks out of them. She's very aware that she hasn't anything to carry water in, so she'll just have to forge a path close to the river for now, even if it's a more exposed location.

The stones in the riverbed are large and flat, and she prises her fingers under one to pull it up, thinking it may make a better weapon than her puny stick, even if it's a more cumbersome one to carry around. To her delight, she finds that it's not only flat, but one edge is very sharp - sharp enough to cut her fingers on as she closes her hand around it. If only she could find a bird or a rabbit, she'd be able to cut their heads clean off. She has nothing to cook them with, no means of making fire, but she's eaten far worse than raw meat since leaving King's Landing. She sets off once again into the forest, keeping close to the river, looking for prey.


d) At nightfall Arya can be found sat with her back against a tree, a mess of blood and feathers covering her hands and clothes and the ground around her, gnawing on the flesh of a rather small bird. It had been lame, one leg broken and unable to take off, or she's sure she wouldn't have been able to catch it so easily. She's a little disappointed that it wasn't a fairer fight. But she's not going to complain too much, not when she's saved herself from starving for at least one night.