Backpack Hunger Games Novels & Stories

She touches the fabric, her face softening. "This is worth more than food," she whispers. "I don't care. Give me everything you can carry." She loads a bag with bread, canned peaches, and a bottle of water. It feels like a king’s ransom. I grab the bag, my heart soaring with a strange, frantic triumph. I have food. I have fuel. I have a reason to go back. But as I turn to leave, a shadow separates itself from the alley wall. A man. He’s tall, wearing a coat that looks like it’s been stitched together from a dozen different ones. He has a gun.

Not natural cold the specific quality of cold that had been maintained by something other than weather for a very long time, with an intention behind it that pressed against the skin in a way that made the mind want to go elsewhere. The burning in his chest flared in response. He gritted his teeth and followed her in. The archive was a single room, lower-ceilinged than expected, every surface covered in shelves that held clay tablets and rolled vellum and stone-bound books and things he didn't have names for. The lantern light turned everything amber and shadow. Seren moved with the confidence of someone who had been here many times, scanning the shelves with focused efficiency, and he staye

Her bright eyes dance around until she huffs out a breath of relief. “Okay…” she whispers, and the angst in her voice is palpable. “Where do we start?” The afternoon slips away from us. Every minute that passes the sun provides less and less light. Without a lamp, we won’t be able to do much more. The books we managed to find are scattered around us in piles. Rebecca reaches into my backpack and pulls out a wrapped corn muffin. “How are you not starving?” she mutters, relaxing against the filing cabinet behind her.

I reached in for a backpack I'd stashed in there last year, cringing as my hand caught cobwebs. The black bag was well worn and a little dusty from being hidden in the vent. I'd picked it up from a thrift store, along with a change of clothes in a style I normally wouldn't wear. A disguise. I'd stuffed the clothes in the bottom of the bag and then added more supplies on top, a spare wallet with some cash, and food that wouldn't go bad like trail mix, jerky, and packets of dried fruit.

"What's that? Why are you carrying so many things?" Logan looked one by one at the people in front of him. He looked at Xander who only carried a backpack that the boy usually wears to school, then his gaze fell on Tristan who also only carried a backpack on his back with a small size. Then Logan's gaze fell on Alice who only brought her school backpack as well. Logan's gaze then turned to himself, only he was carrying his mountain backpack and also 'a suitcase?'. "What's wrong? Didn't you guys say it would be a long journey? I brought rice, food, fruit in this suitcase so we can survive later. I think we'll attach importance to this!"

No battery life left; my backpack felt heavy on my back, and for a moment I considered dropping it, but I breathed deep and tried gathering strength. ‘Come on, Reyna, you can do this,'I s said to myself, taking a step forward and grinned when I saw civilization. I put more spring to my steps and hurried down the hills, shouldering my backpack carefully not to let it slip off my tired shoulder. The sky rumbled, and lightning flashed in the sky.

It was all in her mind. Except there weren’t any pink elephants. Which left her with a stinky dead giant with two too many heads, and a really hot guy who thought they were going somewhere. Macky, when I get through with you, you'll wish you just mailed me the damn book for free, she thought. And then, because she couldn’t think of a good reason not to, she went to pack some food. The bag proved to be a single-strap rucksack, and the provisions at hand were heavy on the hard rolls, dried protein—she didn’t ask, didn’t want to know—and trail mix.

A scarf and hat were thrust on me and I felt like a human furnace. Howen showed me the rest of the backpack. A map, spares clothes and a heap of dried, wrapped food. A small can of fuel for lighting fires, matches. Water bottle. Torch. Ropes. Sleeping bag. A full mini kit to get me south. In return I dived into my hooded top pocket and retrieved two envelopes. One went in the pocket of my leather jacket, the other to Howen.

Her big backpack was weighing her down. After a long walk, she finally saw her locker. Heaving a sigh of relief, she opened it with the key in her hand and emptied all the stuff from her backpack into it, leaving only a few books and writing materials in the bag. Her backpack felt less heavy now, and she felt much lighter. She could afford to carry it on one shoulder without dislocating her shoulder blade, which is exactly what she did. As she flung it on her right shoulder and slammed the locker shut, securing it with the keys, the bell rang, and the once crowded hallway was completely empty in a matter of seconds.

Be precise. I hugged my backpack, looking around for where to dump it. It would only slow me down. It was kind of weird that we hadn’t bothered to set up camp before rushing into the game. I knew Ruby was competitive, but this was on another level. After much deliberation, I set my bag down by a tree bark, using a few fallen branches to hide it from sight. Then I took out essentials—a torchlight, a pocketknife, a pen, and a small taser gun my mum had gotten me. The voltage wasn’t that high, but it was enough to temporally paralyze any intruder and give me a head start.