As I rub my eyes, I look up at the blazing sun; its rays piercing fictional holes in my fragile skin. Slowly, I get up from my mat of tangles, creepers, and vines and walk over to my newest formed ally, Tom. We embrace and I rest my head on his shoulder  as both our minds wonder off, thinking of home, thinking of the Games, but most importantly, thinking of staying alive. We finally release and smile at each other. I say, “Tom, what if we are the last two left? What will we do then?” His warm caramel eyes drop to the ground before he faintly answers, “Then you win.” I go silent at the thought of having to kill Tom. A long moment of silence passes before I answer, “No, I don’t care what happens, Tom. We are both going to win, or the Gamemakers won’t have a victor this year.” He smiles at my mischievousness and with a smirk says, “Deal.”

I am sitting on a hard fallen trunk, sharpening a wooden spear with my knife. I notice a small paper clip sized frog hop carelessly across my feet. I smile at the sight of how beautiful and innocent the frog looks, bright blue skin, glittering in the sunlight. I call Tom over to show him this small precious frog and then notice about 200 more hop out of the underbrush. Startled by this, I jump up on top of the tree trunk.  These minuscule creatures that I once thought were cute now look devious and spine-tingling. Tom comes running in from the tangle of vines and sees me standing a top this trunk, shivering in fear. Slowly, he walks towards me, trying not to startle the swarm of deadly creatures. He reaches me and grabs hold of my hand slowly bringing me down. Whispering into my ear, he says, “These are Poison Dart Frogs, highly toxic.  They have enough venom to kill 10 grown men. Don’t be startled, we just need to slowly walk away from them okay? Follow me.” My heart racing, I slowly follow Tom, the branches loudly cracking under my feet. I cringe every time I step on a twig, in fear that I triggered the frogs to chase after us. My fear over-coming me, I don’t notice a large branch and a huge crunch startles the frogs. All of a sudden, 200 creatures begin to chase after us. Tom grabs me by the hand and we dart to the right crashing through the tumble of vines and branches. Sprinting down to the beach, I trip and fall, rolling down the hill. Tom tries to catch me but fails. Branches slice my raw flesh. I reach the bottom in a heap and slowly get up, wiping myself down. I take a seat on the cold ground and notice one of the little monsters crawling up my leg; its slimy webs for hands sending a tingle up my body. I bite my hand to stop me from screaming. This is the end, I’m about to die from a frog. A puny little frog, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.