Trees. As far as the eye could see were trees. No buildings, no roads, no people. Just trees.
This had all seemed like a good idea up until a little while ago. Now, he wasn't quite so sure anymore. He didn't belong in the forest. More specifically, he didn't belong here, in wild land. Though, now that he thought about it, why didn't he belong here again? He couldn't quite remember anymore.
Either way, there had to be a good reason for him to go somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. Unfortunately, that reason seemed to fail him too. Little could be made sense of this whole situation, and the more he turned on the spot, the less there seemed to make sense from. Had it been night when he woke up? Or was it day? He had been sure a moment ago that there had been light. Just how long had he been out here? It didn't matter anymore. He just had to get out of here. He had to get home, or at least somewhere familiar.
Another blink of his eye and leaves were fluttering in the air around him. Brilliant colors, all the leaves dying in a blaze of glory, surrounded him, but offered no direction whatsoever. This wasn't right. Once more, he turned in place, even tried calling out, but the moment he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Not a single sound.
It was the crunch of a few leaves that alerted him to the sound of someone else. However, it wasn't a welcoming face that he came to see. Black eyes glared at him while white teeth were bared. A wild dog let out a low growl at his direction. In almost a synchronized dance, the dog stalked forward while he backed away.
However, after about a dozen steps, he stopped. The dog, though still growling and pacing forward, lost a considerable amount of its intimidation when he finally noticed just how frail the thing was. It's ribs were extremely prominent on it's sides, as well as it's spine and most notably was the slight limp it had. The creature was dying and if it could even get it's jaws on him, there wasn't much it would be able to do.
Still, the moment the dog lunged, he took off running through the leaves. Of course, with the unfamiliar surroundings, it didn't take much to trip him up. One root and he found himself face down on the ground.
When he looked up, it was all white. He coughed and sputtered and pulled away in a panic. He was drowning. Or at least, that was what he thought before he recognized the white. It wasn't bubbles or surf, but snow. It covered everything for as far as he could see, but he felt no cold.
Slowly, he got to his feet and felt more panic rise up from the pit of his stomach. Time was getting away from him and more and more, he was feeling lost. He wanted something familiar, something safe.
Bridge. He had to reach the bridge. He wasn't sure how or why it popped into his mind, but he could remember gripping the wood, holding on to it like it was a life line. He needed that again. If only he could find it. He stumbled around in the snow, trying to find a direction or even a stream that would lead back to the river under that bridge. But the snow and winter was unforgiving. Frustration started to boil up beside the hurried panic and with a yell, he punched his hand into a nearby tree.
But when he pulled his hand away, things had changed once more. The snow was gone and instead, spring had started to take hold. The trees above were tipped with green and just starting to come back to life. Grass was coming up below foot. Birds were even singing.
But Peeta Mellark had never felt more lost in his whole life.
