Day 1 D8

Timothy:
"We're burning the bridges," I say determinedly, after all the cannon shots. "We're the closest, and if we can do it quickly, we're set."

Charlene:
"If," I say firmly. "That's a pretty big if. How do we burn them all at once?"

Timothy:
I squint across at the gleaming gold horn. "Medical fluid. Alcohol, etc. Flammable stuff."

Charlene:
When it comes to fire, Timothy is a genius. I stand, slinging on my backpack. "Let's go, before the others start to circle back around."
Timothy stands too, and suggests, "Let's run. The faster we get everything done, the better." I nod, and we sprint down, across the bridges, dropping the packs, pouring flammable liquids over all the bridges, striking matches and putting to torches, throwing mini-torches onto the bridges and watching them flame up. Timothy is dancing about happily, waving his torch and occasionally helping the bridges burn when he thinks the flames are too low. I shake my head, turning back towards the Cornucopia. We might be safe from the other tributes, but there are always fun new twists thought up by the Gamemakers...

Timothy:
The burning bridges are a glorious sight, but there is more to do yet. I watch Charlene starting to make a wall of spears, familiarizing herself with the weapons. I go over, helping her build a wall around the Cornucopia and fortify it. There is a magnificent hissing as the burning wood falls into the steaming river, and Charlene pulls a piece of cloth over her face. "Acid!" she calls and I nod, pulling a hood over my own face. We retreat into the Cornucopia, taking a good meal of the supplies in it before settling down for the night.
"Do you want early watch or midnight watch?" I ask, handing her a couple of blankets.
"Midnight," she replies, cocooning herself and lying down. "I do better in early morning."
"Perfect. Sleep well, I'll keep a competent guard." I go out, climbing the Cornucopia to the top, where I can see 345 degrees around me with no trouble, and wrap up in blankets, leaning against the raised tail.
The moon rises, the air growing colder on my face, but wrap snugly in the warm cloth, I remain at a comfortable temperature, keeping a sharp eye out. A little before the light of dawn should enter the sky, I slide down and enter the horn, waking Charlene. "Your turn, I need rest," I whisper to her.

Charlene:
I do not know whether it is because I trust Timothy or that I am so exhausted I have no choice, but I fall asleep almost immediately. My dreams are haunted by bloody figures wreathed by smoke, but they are separated from us by a river of fire - a tenuous but currently adequate defense. When Timothy wakes me up, I start to clobber him before I hear his voice - and he has wisely pinioned my arms before attempting to wake me. I am awake immediately, so the time between him entering the horn and me leaving it cannot be more than five minutes. I climb the tail, finding a warm spot where I assume he has been leaning. I settle back, looking about every few minutes, and watching the east for the first sign of the sun.