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Welcome everyone to my tenth ever Hunger Games! Since the War of the Hunger Games is still ongoing, these Games will be running simultaneously alongside those. As such, I'd advise you to read both, as events that take plave there may influence these, and vice versa. I've decided to create and host these Games for both storyline reasons and because of popular demand. Keep reading for more information!

Introduction
While a bloody and costly war still wages on in the country of Panem, President Leopold Stryker has decided to hold the 401st Hunger Games many months early to build up support for the Capitol and entertain it's citizens during the hard times of war. Whether this will prove to be a wise decision remains to be seen...

Rules
1: There will be thirty-two Tributes

2: You may have up to two Tributes

3: Each Tribute has $150 in sponsor money for their mentor (creator) to use as they see fit.

4: I will write Group Training, and of course the actual Games

5: I will not accept any Tributes that have been in my previous Games

6: Reservations last 72 hours (In certain cases this may be extended)

7: The Capitol is a Career district in my Games

8: Some tributes have already been selected for the Games. These were chosen in the War of the Hunger Games, which you can read [|HERE]

9: Tribute Form: (Keep in mind that the tributes were NOT reaped. The Capitol held no official reapings for these Games, instead, they sent Peacekeepers into the District's and selected two teenagers from each District to compete. The Career Districts, however, have volunteers from the Career academies.)

Name:

District:

Gender:

Age:

Personality:

Backstory:

Height:

Appearance:

Weapon(s):

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Fear(s):

Bloodbath Strategy:

Alliance: (can be filled out later)

Alliances
Careers: Zamara Nostalic (0), Mercury Kwildor (1), Valencia Sonar (1), Silve Wisp (2), Harley Paramour (2), Pompeii Vulcan (4), Mario Firth (4), Ash Vile (12), & Aphrodite Lancaster (C)

Anti-Careers: Teddy Bridges (3), Jayda Idylwyld (3), Elia Donsown (7), Jonah Zarate (9), & Luigi Iris (13)

District 0, 5, 9, & 14 Alliance: Topher Celene (0), Nicholas Mecha (5), Emma Brynne (9), & Bastien Colloway (14)

District 5 & 8 Alliance: Corin Greer (5) & Cecil Thayer (8)

District 6 & 11 Alliance: Armado Roynclaw (6), Lavender Morton (6), Alpha Quells, (11) & Omega Quells (11)

District 10 & 12 Alliance: Takeko Zhou (10) & Carey Brand (12)

Loners: Surorian Chaos (C), Twan Crane (7), Lilah Jollenbeck (8), Avan Falco (10), & Ophelia Thrindell (13), & Nylah Nichole (14)

Arena
The cornucopia is located upon a large, wooden platform that hangs over a massive lake. This lake is the exact center of the arena, and is the largest and easiest source of water for the tributes. Despite this, the lake itself cannot be accessed from the platform. The platform takes the form of a circle, with four spokes leading into different portions of the arena.

The eastern spoke leads to an Ominous Woods. This biome is a dark, heavily wooded area with pools of what appears to be drinkable water, but in reality is liquid poison. The thick, close-together trees and underbrush contain many thorns and Deathbloom plants, which can cause a tribute to break out into a severely painful--yet non-lethal--rash upon merely touching them. The area is filled with many dead and dying trees, as well as Umbran Trees that produce a purplish flame and noxious scent when burnt. This is one of the most difficult biomes for tributes to survive in, but if they're okay with everything trying to kill them, it can be quite a nice place to live.

On the opposite side, the western spoke leads to a Hot Springs area. For the entirety of the biome there is nothing but sheer rock and many small pools of water. These pools are filled with bubbling water that is scalding to the touch. Needless to say, the water is not recommended for drinking nor bathing.

The southern spoke leads to a Mystic Grove. This biome is filled with large, flowering oak trees and jacaranda trees. Many vines grow along the trees here, some growing so thick that they obscure the tree's trunk entirely. It has occasional pools of drinkable water that will handily quench a tributes thirst. Tributes may be thrown off by the odd coloring of the biome, however, for the sky is a lush green, the grass dark teal and the water appears a vibrant purple. Occasionally small Pixie mutts will appear, and it will be up to the tributes to determine whether they are friend or foe.

The northern spoke leads to a Swamp. Overcast skies overlook a lush swampy area with tall willow trees in the shape of cypresses, and dead trees in the murky water. The more shallow water in this area is about knee-height, the bottom coated with a thick, cement-like mud. The trees in the area are likewise coated with colonies of lichens and mushrooms, the latter of which may edible.

Tribute Predictions
The following opinions are the expressed thoughts of two of HGPN's (Hunger Games Programming Network) senior Hunger Games analysts. Aras Valii and Niloc Trevlyan have been covering the Hunger Games for more than twenty-five years, and the two are well respected in the industry. For the first time in Hunger Games history, HGPN was allowed to have cameras inside the training center, and thus, their thoughts will be the most complete yet.

The Capitol: The male, Surorian Chaos, definitely has the look of a real competitor. Being one of the oldest and tallest tributes in the Games, he assuredly as a built-in advantage there. Yet it is his skills that really mark him as one of the early favorites. Only a other few Careers rivled his prowess. Expect Mr. Chaos to have a big impact on the Games.

The female, Aphrodite Lancaster, is slightly different. While she is a real beauty, and that will undeniably effect her betting odds, she is not the most skilled of Careers. Her abilities put her somewhere in the middle of the Careers. While this still sets her head-and-shoulders above three-thirds of the competition, we still don't expect anything groundbreaking from her. Expect a decent mid-game run from her.

District 0: The male, Topher Celene, is, put simply, cannon fodder. Seemingly oblivious to anything and everything, we do not expect this boy to survive much longer than the bloodbath. Hell, he may stumble off his platform and blow up before it even begins!

District 1: The male, Mercury Kwildor, is an interesting case. While he is not as tall and strong as many have come to expect the District 1 male to be, he is supremely skilled regardless. He also has a very personal reason for trying to gain victory. This will undoubtedly make him a target for the lower-class Districts, however, and may hamper his long-term chances of victory. If the Careers hold strong, expect Mr. Kwildor to make it several days in the Games.

The female, Valencia Sonar, may have a slight height disadvantage against majority of the tributes, but do not count her out. She is perhaps one of the most skilled competitors in the Games, and while her size holds her back from being a complete favorite, she should still be one of the top-tier tributes. Regardless of whether the Careers perform at their usual caliber, expect Ms. Sonar to be around until the Games end.

District 2: In a year where the Careers are, perhaps, not as tall nor as strong as you'd expect, Silve Wisp is, despite his lackluster height, the Pack's most physical threat. Yet he is still dwarfed by other tributes, most notably Mr. Chaos and Mr. Quells. Fortunately for Mr. Wisp, however, is the fact that he is one of the most skilled swordsman in the Games. As a Career, the odds of him getting his hands on his chosen weapon is very high. If he survives the Careers eventual dissolution, Mr. Wisp has a genuine chance of being Victor.

The female, Harley Paramour, has become a celebrity, of sorts. Being the daughter of District 2's Mayor and a young mother, fans have understandably begun to root for Ms. Paramour. She is also, rather amusingly, the tallest tribute in the Career Pack. Unfortunately, despite all the hype, it appears that Ms. Paramour's skills are not quite up to snuff. If the Careers are to lose a member in the bloodbath, it could very well be her.

Ophelia Thrindell (District 13)
The Hunger Games were over. They were supposed to be over. Ever since the war started, everyone said the same thing. That the Capitol would be defeated. That no one would ever be harmed by their tyranny again. That the Games were over.

All of those things were false.

People have been harmed. My family is dead, dead and gone. I don't know who is to blame; I only found their cold, dead bodies lying amidst the ruins of war. I wandered alone by myself for days after that, unsure where to go. The Blackcloaks had taken over the District, and there was no sign of life above ground. Everything looked so...dead.

I didn't dare check the tunnels, terrified of what I would find. I hoped to maybe discover another District or something. Anything that would relieve me of that horrible loneliness. But I found the worse thing I possibly could. I stumbled upon a group of Peacekeepers, and they then took me to be a tribute in the Hunger Games.

That's why I'm here now, in the Capitol, being led down an overly elaborate hallway, escorted by armed men. I don't know where in the Capitol I am, but I can make a pretty good guess. The Training Center.

The man leading the Peacekeepers stops beside an elevator, I recognize it because we had several of them in District 13, and presses a button. A moment later, the doors slide open. I'm ushered inside.

It feels like I should be asking questions, demanding answers. But I'm too scared. My body is trembling, my heart pounding like an unstoppable hammer. I've already met with a Capitol official, at least, I think that was what he was. A tall man dressed in a dark suit, he looked nothing like the silly Capitolite's I've been led to expect.

He explained what would happen. I would be escorted to my living apartment, introduced to my District partner and mentors, then I would be allowed to rest for the night before being taken for stylist preparation tomorrow. There will be a chariot ride at night, then the actual training days will begin.

So I have about a week to live.

The elevator stops at the penultimate floor, the home to District 13. I'm shoved out the door and followed by a sole Peacekeeper. I'm surprised that he comes. What need do I have for a guard in my own apartment?

I head down a hall filled with elaborately carved walls worked with gilt. The next room I enter is a dining room of sorts. Three people await me. Two of them I easily recognize; I've seen them on television for majority of my life. District 13's latest Victors, Reiner Bertholdt and Major Noble. The third is a tall teenage boy with oddly colored hair. I suppose he must be my District partner.

"Hello!" The boy smiles cheerfully as he steps forward, offering me a handshake. I don't want to shake his hand, but some formalities must be retained. He nods as I grip his hand. "I'm Luigi Iris."

"Ophelia Thrindell."

An awkward silence follows. I shift from foot-to-foot, wondering what is supposed to happen next, when Major Noble laughs. "What a pair we got this year, eh Reiner?"

The larger blond man shrugs as he sits down at the dining table. "What did you expect from them? The next Games weren't supposed to happen for another year."

"They weren't supposed to happen at all!" I can't help but speak my thoughts, even though I know this isn't the place or time.

"You thought that the Capitol would lose?" Major fixes me with a narrow gaze as he joins Reiner at the table. "How naive."

I feel my face redden as I blush. I was just chastised by one of District 13's greatest figures! Though he is only known for winning a cruel, inhuman game, he's still someone I've respected my entire life.

"You should keep those type of thoughts to yourself," Reiner grunts. "After what happened in the 400th, the Capitol won't tolerate any type of rebellious actions. Try and pull something funny in the games, don't be surprised if a mutt pack pays you a visit in the night."

Great. Now I don't need to just worry about being killed by a murderous teenager, but I need to be vigilant with my words too. One careless thought, and I could be signing my own death warrant.

My mentors don't linger on the subject. Before I know it, Major is asking both me and Luigi for our skills. The tall boy answers easily, quickly rattling off several skills that I could only wish I possessed. By the time he's done, everyone turns to me and I find myself tongue tied.

"I'm...er...good at..." What am I good at? I'm good at drawing, but that's not really a skill you'd find much use for in a all-out brawl to the death. What else can I do?

"You must have something," Major says, sounding more patient then I think he should. "Everyone has something they're proud of."

"I'm...smart, I guess." Yet I'm certain I'm nowhere near the level of District 3, or even 5, for that matter. I don't think I could even outsmart the Careers!

"Intelligence is always a good thing," Major nods his head. "No idiot ever won the Games, after all."

That does little to assuage my fears. Still, my mentors seem to be at a rest with learning my skills. Now they just want to know my weaknesses. "I'm a terrible swimmer," I admit this truth right away. The one time I tried, I nearly drowned. If the arena heavily features water, then I'm done for.

"If that's your biggest weakness, then you're in good position," Major tells me. "Very few tributes know how to swim. And odds are, you won't have to in the Games."

"What about you?" Reiner turns to Luigi. "What's your biggest weakness?"

The tall boy shrugs. "I can't swim either. Also, I'm terrible with ranged weapons."

Major throws his hands up in exasperation. "What is with you two? Why are you so despondent? You're in pretty good shape, if those minor inconveniences are your weaknesses!"

I don't know about that. I'm sure that none of the other tributes have any crippling weaknesses or anything like that. Thinking of the other tributes, I actually don't know what any of them look like. Since there was no Reapings I haven't even seen any footage of them yet. The chariot ride will be my first opportunity.

"Go get some rest," Reiner sends us away from the dining room and into the adjacent hallway. "You have a tough few days ahead of you before you even see the arena. Try and get some sleep. You'll need it, trust me."

I leave without a word. Despite all the good things they had to say about me, I do not feel the least bit better. I don't think that I can win this. If any of the other tributes look the slightest like Luigi, then they all already outclass me.

Speaking of my district partner, he's stopped beside the door to his bedroom, watching me with a blank expression. "Cheer up," He says with a small smile.

I stare at him blankly. "Cheer up? I don't know if you've noticed, but there's not exactly anything to be cheerful about!" I consider myself an optimist. I always try to look on the bright side of things, but I don't really see one here. Panem is in all-out war. My family is dead. My best friend is dead. Soon I'll be dead too. Where's the bright side?

Luigi kneels down so that he is eye level with me. His brown eyes gleam with a quiet confidence. "A wise man once told me that it gets better at the end, and if its not yet better, than its not the end. So don't give up, not yet. Keep fighting until you run out of breath."

"It's...just so hard...what's the point?"

He pats me on the shoulder. "I volunteered for this. I took the spot of a younger boy, so that he may yet live a long and prosperous life. I saved his life. That is what I'm cheerful for." He stands up and opens the door, entering without looking back. I'm left alone in the empty hall.

He's right. Here I was, wallowing in self-pity and despair, and my fight wasn't even over yet. Terrible things have happened. Awful, unspeakable things that have left me a broken mess. But I can't give up. My family wouldn't want that, Adeline wouldn't want that, and most of all, I don't want that.

After all, what is the point of life if you don't fight to the last breath to keep it?

Emma Brynne (District 9)
I sit on a plush leather chair, surrounded by the very epitome of luxury, and I'm scared out of my wits.

This train will take me to the Capitol. From there, I will be led to the Hunger Games. That's a death sentence for anyone, but for someone from District 9, where we haven't had a Victor in over seventy-five years, it goes so far beyond that.

I will die. There's no changing that fact.

This is just my punishment, I suppose. I'm responsible for people's deaths, more than any other tribute, I'm sure. My sister's best friend drowned because of me. My sister, Cadence, was murdered in the rebellion because of me.

I silent stroke the bracelet on my wrist. It's a reminder of my sins. A constant token of my penance that must still take place. I deserve to be here. If anyone ever deserved die in the arena, it was me.

Across from me, sits my district partner and a woman named Acacia. Supposedly she's an escort that is also acting as a mentor, thanks to the fact that District 9 only has one living Victor.

That's how little the Capitol thinks of us. They gave us an escort for a mentor. A vain, snobbish woman who probably doesn't know the first thing about surviving the Hunger Games. I haven't tried speaking with her. She only talks about her makeup and whether her hair matches her dress or not. It doesn't.

I don't attempt speaking with my district partner, Jonah, either. It's not that I dislike him. He seems fun to be around. But that's the problem, see. Watching him die would become twice as difficult if we get to know each other more. Time for making friends ran out the second my name was called. But at the same time, I really don't want to go into the arena alone.

So I have no idea what I'm going to do. I don't want to get close to anyone, but I can't 	convince anyone to align with me if I don't. It's a problem with no solution. I do promise myself one thing, however: I won't be Jonah's killer. In fact, if I can help it, I won't kill a single tribute.

I begin to dwelve back into my thoughts when Acacia motions for me. She sits beside a window. "Hey, Emma, check out this view while you can. I bet you've never seen anything like this!"

Jonah is staring through another window. Amazed. Grudgingly, I move from the chair I occupy and join them.

I can't help but gasp in awe as I stare out the window. The Capitol is a truly beautiful place. I can't stop marveling at the skyscrapers, gleaming from every angle. The frosted mountains, providing a gorgeous backdrop. We don't have any mountains in District 9; so it's almost like we're in a different world altogether. Capitolites, all dressed in flamboyant clothes, crowd the train station. For a minute, I almost forget where I am and where I'm going. In that minute, all I can think about is how much Cadence would have loved everything. The colors, the lights, the fancy and pretty things… she would have a blast in the Capitol.

Thoughts of Cadence, however, remind me why she's not here with me. A fresh wave of guilt crashes over me.

Jonah cracks a grin of relief. "Look at how they're dressed. I mean, that's…"

It's unbelievable, the clothes they wear. Stuff I'd never put on in a million years. Why do they think it's fashionable?

"Since we're almost at our destination," Acacia says, "I'm sure you remember what comes now. The tribute parade. You'll be separated to meet your prep teams, and they'll get you ready for tonight."

Right away? It's barely afternoon!" I argue.

"Believe me, they use every second of time on you. Appearance counts a lot when you're in front of sponsors. Especially if you're a girl. As they say, you never get a second chance at a first impression. You're a real looker, Emma, so they should have extra fun with you!"

I shudder. Those words. It just doesn't sound right, when said like that. I won't mind it, though. I could never really afford makeup or cosmetics back home. Still, looking pretty won't save me in the arena.

"You're the last tributes to arrive," Acacia continues on. "The others all got here yesterday. So you guys will be rushed right into the preparation process. It may feel unfair, but just enjoy it all. I'm sure worse things have happened to you."

Isn't that the truth.

"Well, we're arrived," Acacia says, standing up after a few moments of silence. She gives us each a quick once over, making sure we're presentable for the cameras, before pressing the button to open the train doors. Almost immediately, we're swarmed with bright lights of the cameras and people shouting random questions at us.

"How was your train ride?" Flash.

"Is your family proud that you're here?" Click.

"What do you think of your District partner?" Flash.

"Are you in anyway concerned about District 9's curse?" Click. At one point, I make the mistake of putting my arm in front of my eyes to shield them from the camera flashes. Acacia hisses and yanks it down, glaring at me before turning and smiling at one of the cameramen. As soon as we're inside the Remake Center, she flicks my ear. I hiss and glare at her.

"Don't ever try to shield yourself from the cameras," she warns. "The whole point of these things is to show you off. You have to be camera-ready twenty-four-seven. And they have to always be able to see your face." She looks at both Jonah and I before sighing and guiding us to two doors.

"These are your chariot preparation rooms. I'll meet you after the chariots. Try not to do anymore stupid things, yes?" Acacia nods to each us before click-clacking away on her impossibly high heels. I turn to look at Jonah, but he's already entering his preparation room.

Bracing myself, I twist the knob on the door. Worse things have happened. I just need to keep reminding myself that.

Alpha Quells (District 11)
Omega is trembling with fear as she sits in one of the many plush armchairs that fill District 11's apartments living quarters. She is curled up in a ball, her face buried behind her hands. She looks so frail.

I want to comfort her, but what can I say? Our circumstances are at the worse they could possibly get. Everyone I've ever known in life is dead, except for her. But considering where we're headed...

"We'll die, Alpha," Omega's voice is a faint whisper. "The arena will be our tomb."

I grit my teeth together to stop myself from yelling. "No. No, it won't be. Don't be stupid." I don't like hearing her voice the thoughts that have been crawling around in the back of my head since we were taken in by the Peacekeepers.

"But how will we survive?" My little sister finally lifts her head up from the chair, staring at me with her familiar tear-filled blue eyes. "What could we possibly do?" She stares at me before the sorrow fades and her eyes lower to the intricate pattern on the soft carpet below.

"Whose the biggest, strongest person you know?" I ask, hoping to get her mind off the terror, but she's focusing so hard on that little pattern that I know she's hardly listening.

"You are," She says after a moment's silene.

I nod vigorously. "Yes! And if the biggest, strongest person you know can't win, then who can?" I hope that I sound confident, that the insecurity that I feel is kept out of my voice. I'm big and strong, yes, but so are the Careers. And they've been trained with weapons.

"But if you win," Omega sounds even more dejected than before, if that is possible. "Then that means I still die."

"I--no. You would..." I trail off, thinking quickly. "You know that more than one person has won the Games before!"

She nods her head, but does not look any less despairing. "But that won't happen this year..."

"You don't know that." Deep inside me, that kernel of fear is growing. I want Omega to live. I want her to grow up and have a happy life. But that can only happen if she believes she can survive. If she gives up hope... "Besides, you heard what everyone in Eleven was saying. Other tributes survived the 400th Game. The Capitol says that they're dead, but you know they're not!"

She doesn't say anything. Curling up into an even tigher ball, she buries her head underneath her arms. I hiss in exasperation, turning around and slamming a fist into the wallpaper wall. The light fixtures above rattle from the blow.

"I don't intend to die in that arena, Omega!"

"Intent is nice, but it's based more in hope than reality."

A new voice joins the conversation. I turn around as he enters the room, hobbling in one a cane. Mogul Nazzath has had a limp ever since he won his own Games. He took a knife to the leg during the finale, and apparently refused to have it fixed. I respect him for that.

"Hardly anyone intends to die in the arena," He continues, slowly easing himself into a nearby chair. "And those that do quickly change their mind once faced with imminent death."

I stare at the man. He's not very tall but he's very broad, with big, wide shoulders and muscular arms, despite his age. His short black hair is peppered with gray, and his face shows the hell he went through, being covered with wrinkles and scars.

"Is that supposed to be advice?" I ask him drily.

He shakes his head. "No. It was merely a fact."

I don't know what to think of this man. He's supposed to be our mentor, but says very little in the way of useful things. Mostly he just spouts off philosophical nonsense. No wonder why we haven't had a Victor since him. "Unless you have something that will actually help," I say, turning my back on the man. "Then don't bother talking to us."

"Many tributes have said that to me. They all wound up dead."

"Yeah? Well, last time I checked, all of your tributes wound up dead." It's not like I haven't faced hardship. I've gone through hell just living my life. I don't want anyone telling me what to do. In the arena, it will be just me and Omega. Mogul won't be there; everything I get done will have to be done by me alone.

"This is all my fault," Omega sobs quietly from her armchair.

"No, it's not. None of this is your fault, Omega." She isn't to blame for our parents being murdered, for our siblings being massacred. It's not her fault that we ran into those Peacekeepers whilst trying to find help. All of that was just luck. Pure, unfortunate luck.

"But it is. It is!" Her sobs continue as I stare at the wall in despair. There's so much against me. And I need to survive, somehow. And have Omega survive. I have not yet given up hope on both of us surviving. The odds may be against it, but when has that ever stopped me before?

Training
Day One

Jayda Idylwyld (District 3)
I must admit that when I left home to explore the last unknown vestiges of District 3, I had not expected that I would wind up participating in the Hunger Games as a tribute.

I step out of the bathroom, finishing drying my hair with a towel and gazing around my bedroom. The walls are light tan or ivory in color. One whole side is actually a series of windows staring out into the Capitol, and these are covered floor to ceiling by drapes. While by normal standards the room is overly exuberant, I do not think it is anything special.

Being a member of the Idylwyld family, I have seen much more elegant and ostentatious displays of wealth before. This is nothing unusual to me.

I dress myself in the training uniform that was laid out for me last night. It's a tad more form-fitting then I'd like, but it's simple practically is something that I don't mind wearing. It couldn't be more different from that horribly garish dress I was forced to wear for last night's Chariot Rides.

Such a useless frivolity. What is even the point of the thing? It's not as if it has any bearing on how well one will perform in the Games. It is just so utterly useless.

A clock chimes on the wall. I turn to look at the time, but as I do, I hastily avert my gaze. Standing in the corner is one of the apparitions, one of the ghosts who've been haunting me since I set foot in that cabin.

They're not real. Logically, my mind knows this. I am not being haunted by ghosts. That would be ridiculous. But at the same time, how could they not be real? I see them. They're present. I find myself breathing faster as I carefully head for the day, trying desperately to keep my gaze off the ghost--No. The apparition. I will not think of them as ghosts!

Why are they still here? I had hoped that they would leave me alone now that I am destined for the Games. A foolish thought, perhaps. They had not left me alone whilst locked in that cell with Teddy, so why would they now? Sometimes logic fails me.

I reach the door and hastily pull it open, stepping out and shutting it behind me with a shudder of relief. I am glad I did not get a good look at the apparition. It's worse when I do. Especially if it's Callia. I cannot help but breakdown when I see her.

I am about to make my into the dining room when my mentor--one of them, at least--appears around the corner. He makes a beeline for me as I am spotted.

"Ah, Jayda! How wonderful to see you this morning!" Caspian Mahoney stops only a foot away from me, offering a half-bow. His dark brown hair is spiked this day, and his pale, beautiful face is lit with a smile. A smile that does not touch his eyes. "Still as gorgeous as you were last night, I see."

"Don't talk to me." I saw his Games. I saw what he did. Especially to Rosalina. I saw how she died. The worst part is that I believe that the Capitol only showed the very end.

"Oh, don't be like that!" Before I can stop him, his hand is on my head, his fingers running through my hair. "Harshness does not suit you, not at all."

I recoil from his touch, but his hand snatches my wrist and he pulls me closer. His grip is like iron. "You should really smile more," he purrs with a smile, hand brushing against my neck. "You ruin your beauty, when you don't smile."

"Let. Me. Go." I'd knee him right between the legs if I wasn't worried about the trouble I could get in. Attacking mentors is not allowed. Not even perverse, psychopathic mentors.

"Rosalina was never as pretty as you," He does not look me in the eyes, but he lets go of my wrist. I pull back immediately, a shiver running through my body. His very touch is vile! "I'd suggest you be nicer to me. I am your mentor, after all."

"I have Axiom, too." Despite an overwhelming urge to run away from this cretin, I am somehow rooted to the spot. "And he's not a psychopath like you!"

Caspian laughs. It's a deep, rich sound. With a chill I think of how charming it would be had it belonged to anyone else. "Axiom is an angry little man filled with hatred and afflicted with an inferiority complex. He's not the hero that everyone in District 3 thinks he is."

Axiom Jolt. District 3's latest victor before Caspian. Unlike the vicious ogre before me, Axiom won his Games with cunning and integrity. He never brutally killed anyone. In fact, he was against the Career Pack from the start.

"Axiom wishes he were like me," Caspian continues with a smile, his eyes lingering on my face. "He once told me that he killed his family after becoming Victor, but that was a lie. They're alive and well, to this day. Axiom is a coward."

"Then he is like you."

Caspian's hand shoots forward and slaps me across the face. Hard. Tears build in my eyes as I stumble back, placing a hand against the wall to stay upright.

"Now look what you made me do!" Caspian tsk-tsk's, taking a pair of white gloves from his pocket and sliding them on. "I hate getting physical. Much too taxing."

I resist the urge to tackle him. To beat him senseless and avenge his victims. The fact that this...abomination is allowed to walk free is an affront to the human species. He should be caged or put down at once.

Unfortunately, I am in no position to do anything about it.

Caspian walks pass me, a smirk on his face. "Come now, let us go to the dining room. You wouldn't want to miss breakfast, would you?"

Shaking with anger and revulsion, I follow him into the dining room. The table is completely covered with many delicious looking foods, but I find that I have no appetite as I sit down.

Across from me, Teddy and Axiom are deep in conversation. The young Victor has been the only one besides for myself whose actually managed to get Teddy to say a word. The boy has been so distraught over his sister that he's barely paid attention to anything.

"That's amazing!" Teddy is caught up in some story Axiom is telling. With bright eyes and an even brighter smile, he looks nothing like the boy I first saw in that rebel prison. I understand why he looks up to Axiom so. Axiom is a victor who wasn't very strong, was not overly attractive, and won his Games by staying under the radar and using his intelligence to eliminate his physically superior opponents. Needless to say, I believe that Teddy sees a lot of himself in the man.

Caspian neatly sits himself down at the table. I try my best to ignore him. He is nothing to me. In a few days, he will be unable to even speak to me. I can suppress my hatred for him that long.

Breakfast slowly passes by. Despite my lack of appetite, I do manage to eat a little. I expect that I will need the energy during training. It would be foolish to deprive myself of that.

When the meal is over, Axiom leads us to the elevator. "Try to go as unnoticed as you can," He tells us as he presses the button and the doors slide open. "Attracting the attention of the Careers would be a bad idea."

Obvious advice, perhaps, but it is sound nonetheless. Neither Teddy nor I are the type of tribute who would do well with unneeded attention.

As the elevator doors begin to shut, I see an apparition over Axiom's shoulder. I cringe.

"You okay?" Teddy speaks quietly, his eyes carefully taking in my face. He is too observant for his own good. "I noticed that you do not get along with Caspian."

"Do you think anyone gets along with that creature?" I don't mean to snap at him, but I can't help it. That apparition...was it..?

"No. I s'pose not." There's a long pause where neither of us say anything. "Will you--I mean, we're allying, right?"

The question takes me by surprise. From the moment I had learned I was destined for the Games, I had expected to align myself with a sizable alliance, perhaps the Anti-Careers. But now that I know Teddy is at my side, perhaps the two of us could join an alliance together. Maybe even have an inside alliance within that alliance. Yes. That would do quite nicely.

"Yes," I nod at Teddy, trying to form some semblance of cheerfulness. "The two of us will be aligned together. And, if we play our cards right, I expect that one of us will emerge as Victor too."

Bastien Collaway (District 14)
Our mentors wave us off as we step into the elevators. Nylah says nothing as the doors shut, sealing us inside as the entire room lifts to take us down to the training center. Truth be told, I'm nervous.

My entire strategy for the Games hinges on me having allies. And for that to happen, I need to actually talk with and befriend the other tributes. Sounds simple, right? Well, it may not be. What if they don't like me? If they think I'm weak and worthless? What if no one approaches me and I'm forced to ask them for an alliance? I've never had problems making friends before, but what if now is the time it starts? All these questions and more swim around inside my head as the elevator hurtles ever downwards.

"I need to find the weaknesses..." Nylah mutters.

"Excuse me?" I turn to the odd girl. "What did you just say?" She's always muttering to herself. Always rubbing her head and staring intently at people, her eyes gazing right through you. Sometimes I think she knows more than she let's on. She scares me.

"Nothing." She shakes her head. "I said nothing."

"Oh...Okay, then." I watch in silence as she plays with a small feather in her hands. Maybe I should ask her to be my ally? But, no. She's too strange. Too...unnatural. Besides, if she wanted to be my ally, she'd have already asked me. Since she hasn't, I think it's safe to say that she has no interest in any sort of alliance between us.

Ding!

The elevator touches down and the doors slide open, depositing us into a large, oval-shaped room with a domed ceiling. My eyes zoom around, trying to take everything in. The racks of weapons and their corresponding stations are all in the back, directly across from me. The survival stations are spread to the left side and the Gauntlets, Ropes Course and other stamina stations are on the right. Stepping forward and turning, I can see that the cafeteria is just to the left of the elevators. As I examine my new surroundings I notice that Nylah and I are among first tributes to arrive. Only the Careers and the pair from District 13 are here. I sense them watching us, probably sizing us up and deciding if we're any sort of threat. Obviously we're not, because they turn away almost immediately.

I'm actually kinda disappointed. I had hoped that maybe I'd look threatening--or at least slightly imposing--but instead they spare me nothing more than a casual glance. I hope I'll show them in the Games!

"When will training start?" I ovehear Nylah asking a nearby instructor.

He checks his watch. "At noon, or whenever everyone else gets here."

Just as he says this, the elevator doors open and the tributes from District 9 come out. The boy is athletic, with shaggy brown hair and a pair of intelligent blue eyes. I think his name was Jonah? I'm not sure.

At any rate, he just brushes past everyone and takes a spot near the cafeteria, lolling against a pillar with his arms folded.

The girl, however, stops and stares at the others. My breath leaves me at the very sight of her. She's slender and short, yet hard with muscle. Her long blonde hair hangs straight down her head, framing her face and--her most distinct feature--her bright turquoise eyes.

They're not like normal eyes, no. They're a natural blue, and soft and radiant and--

I tear my gaze away from the girl. Don't get enamoured! Think rationally! She's bound to die in the arena, along with myself. I have no time for such sentimental behaviour. But...I find myself watching her as she drifts across the panelled floor. Then more tributes arrive.

The Capitol pair, tough and deadly as they head straight for the Careers. The girl seems to pull ahead and says something in a low voice to Silve. I can't hear what.

Then the floodgates are opened. District 7 arrives, followed by 8 and 12. Pretty soon everyone is assembled on the floor, and a man steps out from the throng of trainers. He's relatively young and holds a devilish glint in his eyes. "Line up by height!"

Trainers start lining us all about and as I use this opportunity to examine the other tributes. Avan from District 10 is placed at the left end of the line. Being well-over six and a half feet tall, no one else really comes close in height. He's followed by Surorian from the Capitol, who is one of the few tributes over six feet. At the far end of the line stands Omega from District 11, the shortest tribute. Not a surprise, seeing as she's only twelve years-old. What is odd is that Mario, the female Career from District 4, is practically the same height as her.

I'm placed somewhere right near the top of line, only behind the aforementioned Avan and Surorian, plus Alpha, Omega's brother. As I take in everyone else I start feeling more confident of my ability to win. Yeah, there's a lot of tributes more muscular then I am--despite being tall, I am very skinny--but they don't look too much brighter. And the tributes who do look smarter then me, or at least on par with, don't seem to be any stronger. The exception to this is the boy from District 13. He's tall and about as muscular as any Career, and he has crazy multi-colored hair. He kinda creeps me out.

The Head Trainer, the young man named Kekai, steps forward and begins to speak. "Listen closely, everyone, because failure to heed my words will result in your death." Well, that's not ominous at all. No sirree, that's perfectly normal, that is.

After a short pause to make sure we're listening, Kekai continues. "Everyone has at least one thing they're good at, whether it's something exceptional or not. Some of you rely heavily on this talent in order to shine, while others can utilize multiple fields as well, though obviously not to a greater degree when compared to one who has honed their talent for their entire life. Between these two, the latter is more likely to succeed and make it out of the arena alive." A few gasps of surprise and an angry mutter or two from the District 12 girl. Kekai only smiles placidly.

"Ludicrous? Consider this: in some circumstances, your talents can easily become your greatest flaw. For example, let's say you excel at swimming but fail to accomplish the aspect of climbing. The gong has sounded, and to your horror, the arena just happens to be a mountain range with little to no water. Am I downplaying the significance of your strengths? No, you should always work to improve on your strengths, but be sure to dedicate your time to your weaknesses as well." Kekai paces down the line, staring each and every one of in the eye. His words make a new home in my head as he passes me by.

"During your time here in the Training Station, I want all of you to polish yourself as fighters and survivalists. If you're amazing with spears, train with swords instead. Be versatile. You never know what the Gamemakers will throw at you, so be more than prepared. Be adaptable to every situation you find yourself in. Do not ignore your faults and pray for luck. Otherwise, you might as well leave this room and find some Peacekeeper to piss off before you die in some different, unfavorable fashion. Am I clear? If so, let training commence!"

Jonah Zarate (District 9)
As Kekai blows his whistle and authorizes the beginning of training, I'm shoved aside as everyone tromps off for their own destination. The Careers head straight for the gauntlet, eager to show off their agility. Ash doggedly follows them. I take a few paces forward before being shoved aside once more, this time by Takeko. The harsh girl stomps her way towards the weapons, not bothering to look back.

Where should I go?

There's so many different stations, including: Animal tracking, hand-to-hand combat, Camouflage, Edible insects/plants, fire making, fishing, hammock making, knot tying, shelter building, snare-setting, climbing, weight-lifting, and wrestling. Far too many to keep track of. Then there are many stations dedicated solely to the range of weapons that will almost certainly be provided at the cornucopia, including but not limited to; axes, knives, spears, swords, maces, tridents, sickles, and bows and arrows.

That is all far, far too much for me to wrap my head around. So as everyone else rushes off to try their hand at whatever they wish, I sweep my gaze around the gymnasium, wondering which I should try first. I'm pretty confident in my camouflage and climbing abilities, and I don't want anyone else to know how skilled I am with sickles. Uncertain, I decide to head for the knot tying station. It's one of the least popular and I can at least have some privacy as I wrap my head around all these stations.

No one else is there as I approach, and I'm given plenty of time to get some knots tied. Unfortunately, with my clumsy hands I have quite the difficulty mastering even the simplest of knots. "Imagine if I had to do this in the arena..." In vivid detail, I think about how stupid I'd look if the reason I wind up dead is because I couldn't tie a simple knot.

Before long, I notice a tall boy observing my work. Luigi from 13.

"I'm pretty good at knots," He says, crouching beside me. "Do you want some help?"

"Shouldn't you be with Careers?" Luigi flinches from my question, and I fear I may have been too harsh. Still, I glance over at the pack. They're crowded around the gauntlet, cheering as Valencia runs across. Luigi is so big and strong that it would be reasonable for him to align himself with the pack.

"Well..." The boy pushes a stray lock of hair from his face. "I guess so. I mean, it's been assumed that I would join them, but I'm not really--" He stops himself, scratching his neck self-consciously. "I thought it would be wise if I were to demonstrate my best skills and try to see if anyone else is interested in an alliance."

"So you're best at knot tying," I say flatly.

He chuckles lightly, turning to watch the Careers as they continue along the gauntlet. "Well, I was trained for the Games, but I'm not as good as they are. In fact, I'm not accustomed to any type of ranged weapon." The boy offers another smile, but I can see the fear in his eyes. And I can understand why. I mean, being trained for the Games but not being a Career? They'll probably target him first.

"Will you still align with them?" I ask. You'd wonder why he wouldn't...

"No." He shakes his head quickly. "I'm not joining them. They're too cruel and callous for my liking."

I smile. Seems like Luigi thinks the same way I do. "Maybe we could ally," I put it out there casually, though I'm silently hoping he'll accept. "You know, like form a group of people with opposite beliefs of the Careers."

Luigi's eyebrows arch themselves as he goes into thought. "Like Careers? But the opposite?"

"Yeah."

"So, would we be this year's version of the Anti-Careers or something?"

I shrug. I really didn't put any effort into thinking of this hypothetical alliances name. "I guess. Why? You joining?"

A sly smile flickers across the boy's taciturn face. "Yes. I do believe that I am."

Silve Wisp (District 2)
"Surorian is as good as dead!" Valencia grins beside me, her hands clutching a pair of knives as she stares at the Capitol male as he practices with a sword. He is a whirlwind of steel, and even I, a master swordsman, have a little trouble keeping up with his moves.

"Yes. He most certainly is." I find myself agreeing with my alliance partner. What kind of Career opts out of joining our pack? Granted, the Capitol does not always align with the pack, but majority of the time they do. Especially when they're as strong as Surorian seems.

Opting not to join with us was a foolish choice. Had he done so, he would have blended in with all of us. But now? Now he is a target. And not just to us Careers he scorned, but to every tribute out there trying to make a name for themselves. I will be surprised if he lasts more than two days in the Games.

"Okay, guys. Listen up!"

Pompeii from District 4 strides into our midst, his metal hands gleaming at his sides. Apparently he had a "training mishap" that claimed his hands, thus, he had them replaced with metal surrogates. He purports that he can punch through walls with them. I think that's little more than idle boasting.

"We're going to ask around for some recruits," Pompeii continues, not bothering to hear any of our opinions. He pretty much made himself leader from the outset. He had little opposition--Mercury, the spiky-haired boy from District 1, briefly protested, but he quickly ceased his complaints when Pompeii began extolling his own skills. Whether that makes him intelligent or a pushover, I know not.

Hardly anyone else made any effort to claim leadership. My District partner, Harley, wants nothing to do with that responsibility. In fact, she says very little at all. Right now she's hanging around at the back of the pack, silently watching Pompeii give his speech. I am not quite sure what to make of her.

The other three females, Valencia, Aphrodite, and little Mario, do not seem leadership material, had they even wanted the position. For my part, I am too aware of the dangers of leadership to actually want the job. A leader is too visible, too much of a figurehead for any problems we could have. If something goes wrong in the Games, the leader will undoubtedly get the blame.

I do not want that responsibility.

Our pool of possible recruits, it turns out, is in reality a single tribute. The male from District 12 is the only person who answers Pompeii's summons. He's a blond boy with a hard face and even harder eyes. He lolls a toothpick between his teeth as he watches us. "Name's Ash Vile," he drawls, scanning each of our faces in turn. "Thought that you could use my help."

"We'll be the judge of that," Aphrodite snaps. She doesn't like him already. I can tell by the look of disdain on her otherwise very pretty face. "You should just focus on showcasing your skills."

"Where's your training outfit?" Mercury asks. Before the boy brought it up, I hadn't even noticed that Ash wasn't in our uniform. Instead, he's wearing a plain white shirt and a pair of ripped blue jeans.

Ash shrugs. "Didn't feel like wearing it."

We have no more questions after that. Pompeii merely urges Ash to show us what he has to offer, and the blond boy leads us to the weapons stations and shows off his skill with an axe. It's not insanely amazing or an otherwise impressive performance, but he does show a passable level of adequacy. As he finishes, he explains that he's more use to a pickaxe then the type they have here.

"Of course a District 12 git wouldn't be skilled with actual weapons," Valencia mutters.

Afterwards Ash does a little work with the weights. He's actually pretty strong for looking like an undersized runt. He certainly wouldn't be winning a fight against myself or Pompeii, but I wouldn't be surprised if he could defeat the girls or Mercury.

Soon it comes time for us Careers to decide whether he belongs in our group or not. "I say that we let him in," To my surprise, Mario is the first to speak on his behalf. "I mean, more numbers is better, right?"

"I don't like the little cretin!" Aphrodite says, her haughty nose in the air. "How could we possibly trust him? Just look at him! He'll betray us the first opportunity he gets!"

"If it doesn't work out, we could always just kill him," Valencia says with a grin. I raise an eyebrow at her. That girl seems to think killing is the be-all-end-all of problems. Well, since this is the Hunger Games, that might be true.

"I, for one, think that we should--" Pompeii never gets to say what he thinks, for at that moment Ash shouts over at us.

"Can y'all hurry up? I ain't got all day, ya know!"

Aphrodite hisses under her breath. "He has such horrid grammar!"

Pompeii rolls his eyes as he turns to face the boy. "I'm making an executive decision. Ash Vile, you are hereby allowed into the Careers!"

Ash's way of celebrating this announcement is by giving a simple nod. He's certainly a stoic fellow. Not that it's a bad thing. I much prefer his personality type to the snobbish Aphrodite or the overly excited Valencia.

"There's now eight of us," Mercury says as he shakes hands with Ash.

"And that's a full third of the competition," Pompeii agrees with a nod of his head. "That should put us in prime Games dominating position."

The other Careers murmur their agreement, but I find myself passively pessimistic. Yes, our numbers are larger than the rest of the tributes, but that doesn't necessitate our dominance. If we are to make some foolish mistakes, then I would not be surprised to see us fall early in the Games. That is the problem with alliances. If the rest of your group does not perform, they might as well drag you down with them.

Lavender Morton (District 6)
Armado heaves his spear across the room, the weapon whizzing through the air before the steel tip digs into the target. He grunts with satisfaction then immediately reaches for another spear.

I sigh and lean back against the weapon rack. How long is he going to be at this? It's been over an hour since training started, and he's yet to move on from this single station. I don't know what he's trying to accomplish.

"Shouldn't we be doing something else?" I ask as he throws another spear. This one also hits the target.

"Like what?" He picks up yet another spear, examining its tips like it's any different than the others.

"I don't know. Looking for allies?" It was an easy decision to align myself with Armado; I knew him before the Games, after all. Why would I abandon him after surviving the chaos in District 6 with him? He's a known commodity, someone I've already forged a bond with. I trust him with my life.

But that doesn't mean he can't annoy the hell out of me.

"You can go look for some yourself," he says as he throws the next spear. He nods his head as it slams into the target. "You don't need my help for that."

I cross my arms as I try not to sigh. "And what if the people I choose annoy you? Or you don't get along with them?" Honestly, you'd think he'd put more thought into this!

He shrugs, reaching for another spear. "You'll choose someone good. I trust you."

"Yeah, well, I also thought Morina would be a useful friend and look where that got us."

Armado lets out a hiss of breath just as he lets go of the spear, throwing off his aim. The spear quickly loses speed and begins to spin halfway to the target. It bounces uselessly off the side and goes clattering across the floor.

"Don't even mention that little monster!" I can see the rage in Armado's eyes as he yanks another spear off the rack and takes aim. "She's the reason we're even here!"

Morina. Morina Patrickson. I thought that we could trust her, that she was on our side. She seemed like such a nice girl. And what did she do? She betrayed us. Left us to get captured by Peacekeepers, who in turn brought us to the Capitol as tributes. She's to blame for this whole mess.

Armado hates her. When we first arrived at the Training Center she was all he would speak of. Talking about how she was a traitorous brat and how she deserved to be the one stuck in the Games. I wouldn't be surprised if he imagines that target is Morina's face.

I understand his rage, I really do. But I don't feel any of it myself. Morina made a terrible decision, one that, in all likelihood, will result in our deaths. But I don't want to kill her, or hurt her, or do anything to her. I just want to ask her why.

She said it was because Armado was part of a gang back in District 6, but is that reason enough to hate him? To let me suffer at the same time? There must be more to her motivation. I just don't know what.

Armado has gone silent, intensely focused on his spear throwing. I decide to leave him be. I have a feeling that the reason he doesn't want to pick our allies is because he's afraid they'll betray him. That's okay. I'll pick for us. I'll pick someone that I know can trusted. Or, at least, I'll pick someone who I know why they'll betray us.

Stepping away from the spear station, I begin to cast my gaze around the gymnasium. The Careers are still flocked around majority of the weapon stations, showing off their vastly superior skills and knowledge. There's no point in talking to them.

The girl from District 8 is at the Gauntlet, trying to slowly pick her way across. I don't know much about her, but she's too busy to talk to right now. I instead wander across the room, trying to see if anyone will approach me. Surely I'm an attractive alliance proposal, right?

The fact that no one even tries to talk to me after a good ten minutes of wandering does little for my self-confidence.

Finally I get fed up with this and just walk up to the nearest tributes--the pair of siblings from District 11. They're crouched beside the Fire Making station, feeding a small fire. The boy looks up sharply as I stop beside them.

"What do you want?" He demands, his cold gaze taking me in. I try not to feel intimated. He's amongst the largest tributes here, dwarfed only by Avan from District 10.

"I, uh, wanted to speak with you..." God, I wish Armado wasn't so absorbed with those spears! Having him by my side would do wonders for my confidence.

"About?" The boy arches an eyebrow at me. His sister, I notice, stays focused on the small fire. She doesn't even look up at me.

"An alliance." Might as well get it out there quickly. No point in prolonging the conversation.

"With you?"

No, with the blind monkey I have hidden in my pants! I feel like blurting this out, but I don't think it would help gain this boy's trust. "Yes. But not just with me. My district partner, Armado, would also be apart of the alliance."

I point him out for the boy and he nods slowly, rubbing his chin with a massive hand. "He certainly looks capable," he turns to his sister. "What do you think, Omega?"

"I don't care." The girl still doesn't look up.

"Okay, then." The boy rubs his hands together for some reason. "Then I guess we're aligned. I'm Alpha, she's Omega."

The beginning and the end. Fitting. "I'm Lavender," I say.

I hope that Armado likes these two. They're all I'm going to get. Too big of an alliance has too many variables. Besides, Armado can't really complain. He decided not to be apart of this, so if he doesn't like my choice, he only has himself to blame, really.

Teddy Bridges (District 3)
I pace about the training floor, searching for the proper station to begin my preparation. I started out by just following Jayda, but she got caught up in some sort of intelligence testing game and I got bored watching her. Besides, I need to do some of my own training.

As I walk, I catch glimpse of Nylah from 14 as she clings to the ropes in the rafters, expertly manoeuvring her way from side to side.

She's good. And I should know. I've spent a good deal of time climbing buildings back home in District 3. It's harder than people think. It's not just pure strength, it's knowing where to put your hands and when to place them. I doubt very many tributes can climb as well as that girl can.

After a minute of watching the girl, I drift over to the weapons stations. The Careers have yet to arrive, they're still running the gauntlets. But how long will that last? I need to get as much practice in as possible before they come over here.

I think over each weapon before choosing. A sword is simple, but it's always highly sought after. I don't want the hassle of trying to get one during the Games. Same deal with a spear. And an axe. I consider a mace, but I don't like the way it looks. Finally I decide to go with a bow and arrow. If I had to kill, it'd be a clean one. Plus, it's long range will give me an advantage.

Unfortunately, it turns out I wasn't meant to use a bow. I spend more than five minutes just trying to place an arrow to the string, and by the time I actually succeed, the arrow never manages to go more than a few feet before sputtering out and dropping to the floor before even reaching the target.

"Are you about done with that?" I turn to see Ophelia from 13 watching me, her blue eyes alive with scathing disapproval.

Wordless, I hand her the bow, feeling my face flush red with embarrassment. I'm a failure! A sure fire bloodbath death for certain! What chance do I have? "I-I'm sorry," I stammer out an apology to the dark haired girl. She doesn't reply, taking careful aim with the bow.

She unleashes with the arrows. She doesn't hit the bulls-eye even once, but at least every single shot manages to hit the target. Unlike mine. Trying to ignore her success and my failure, I drift away from the station.

Not looking where I'm going, I eventually bump into Luigi, Ophelia's District partner. "S-sorry!" I mutter a quick apology and try to slip past him.

He eyes me carefully. "You're Teddy, right?"

Why does he want to know my name? So he can target me during the Games? "Y-yes."

He sees my horrified expression and laughs. "Don't look so glum! I'm not here to kill you!" I don't bother pointing out that, technically, he is here to kill me. Everyone is.

"Then what do you want?" My words are perhaps a bit brisk, but I'm not used to people paying any attention to me. At least, any positive attention. Usually the only reason someone talks to me is so that they can use me as a punching bag.

"You like getting to the point, don't you?" He smiles disarmingly, but I still hesitate before answering. Point? As in, point of a sword?

"I'd rather avoid all sharp points," I say hastily.

Luigi laughs loudly. "So would I! Maybe we could ally."

"Wh-what?" Ally?! That was about the last thing I ever expected someone to ask from me. I had hope it would happen, but expected? Never! Even getting Jayda to agree was astounding enough! "You want to ally with me?"

"Why not?" His eyes study me up and down, certainly spotting my crooked jaw. I remember how, at very the beginning of training, Corin avoided me like the plague after noticing and hope that this boy won't do the same. "You can join our group."

He gestures behind him, and for the first time I spot the District 8 girl and District 9 boy standing just a few feet away, waiting for Luigi. I'm...surprised that such an alliance would want me. "You mean it?" I ask.

Luigi nods. "Of course!"

"Then--Yeah. I-I would love to join." For a moment, I had forgotten about Jayda, but now she comes crashing back into my mind. "I mean, only if my district partner can too."

"Of course she can!" Luigi is surprisingly receptive to the idea. Or maybe not so surprisingly. Jayda is much more impressive person then I am, so of course they'd want her in the alliance.

Luigi pulls me forward to introduce me to the others. The boy is named Jonah, and he seems like a kind, well-adjusted person. He cracks a joke about how, when he wins and breaks the District 9 curse, he'll be known as the greatest Victor ever.

"As long as we're remembered as being the catalyst for your victory," The girl says with a small smile. Her name is Lilah, and I already know that I'll get along with her. She's pretty and she just exudes a presence that I can't help but be drawn in by. She reminds me of my sister, Nora.

"I'm glad to have you with us, Teddy!" She ruffles my hair and hands me a sweet from her pocket. I waste no time in eating it.

"So, where is your district partner?" Luigi looks at the surrounding stations, where the giant from District 10 is chucking weights around and where two of the male Careers are sparring with a trainer.

"She's this way."

I lead the trio to the last place I saw Jayda, the intelligence testing board, and am not surprised to see that she's still there. I stop a few paces away, observing as she almost completely aces the test.

When she's done, she turns around to see me and the others. "Oh, Teddy. Please don't tell me you did something to anger them!"

I'm a little insulted that's the first thing she thinks happened, but I don't have time to respond before Luigi does. "We're here about a possible alliance."

"With me and Teddy?" She looks back and forth between me and the group. "Well, I must say that I am quite flattered you'd think to offer us such a deal."

I don't think all that purple prose is necessary, but what do I know? I watch quietly as the conversation continues. "Well, will you accept?" Luigi asks. "Teddy has already said hat he's with us, but only if you join too."

"Very well. I accept." Jayda gives a little bow, then steps forward to introduce herself to Lilah and Jonah. I'm not sure what my ultimate fate in the Games will be, but I'm not afraid of competing. Not anymore. I'll fight my hardest to win, with my allies at my side. I'll fight so that I will see Nora again.

Nicholas Mecha (District 5)
They've ignored me so far.

I thought that was what I wanted. To be ignored. Overlooked. I thought I was prepared for that. After all, I had been avoided back in District 5 for years. Avoided by my peers. By people on the streets. Then by people who used to be my friends.

But being avoided and being ignored are two very different things.

At least back in District 5, I had friends before I made the pact. Before I became the boy who no one would speak to because they were afraid. Here, I don't even have that. I'm not even someone worth avoiding. I'm no one.

I'm a tribute in the Hunger Games. Nothing more.

So, from my table in the corner of the room, I focus on the one thing that's been a comfort to me here: the food. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and sometimes in between, I've been stuffing my face. Because I can. Because it's the only comfort left to me. And even though my stomach aches and feels like it's ready to burst, I can't stop. Because at least this way I'm doing something. I can feel something.

Something that lets me know I'm still alive.

Lunch today is as grand as the last two days: a delicious soup with more flavors than I could name, a roast bird that is probably some relative of a chicken or duck. In any case, it's delicious. And then the desserts. I know I shouldn't fill myself with sweets, but I can't help it.

If I win the Games--a big if, especially considering the fact that Satan may be working against me--I'll do my best to try and make the world better. Maybe I'll find a way to end the war. Who knows? A Victor has a lot of influence. Maybe I could convince the Capitol citizens to give up on war and try for peace.

My stomach lurches and roils. I drop my fork, hands clutching my belly. Shouldn't have eaten so much. I knew that was a bad idea. Really hope I don't spill my lunch all over the cafeteria. That would be bad. Really bad.

"Amazing! What an astonishing creation of man's toil!" Beside me, my ally Topher let's out a sudden exclamation as he looks over his lunch. He's a strange one, alright. He thought that all the weapons were the greatest things he saw, and that a fire was "a wondrous breakthrough in the war against snow". He has some oddities, that's for sure, but I like him for those oddities.

"Tell me young one, what has the community dubbed such a commodity?” Topher turns to me, brandishing a spork in his left hand.

"Uh...a spork?"

"Fascinating! Utterly fascinating! The names mankind gives their tools will never cease to amaze!" The boy gets lost in his meal, occasionally gasping with wonder as he spots something he's never seen before.

I'm too concerned about my stomach bursting to really pay attention to him. Squirming around in my seat, I try to hold my lunch inside. I imagine vomiting it all over the floor. Could there be anything worse? No. Need to take my mind off the possibility. I let my gaze wander around the cafeteria.

Topher and I sit at a table tucked away in the corner of the cafeteria. The Careers dominate the largest table in the very center of the room; their chatter is boisterous and obtrusive. Another large table is occupied by an alliance of five tributes, the second largest alliance, behind only the Careers. I think they're this years Anti-Careers.

I don't know what to make of them. They seem like nice people, but the fact that they're aligned against me makes them enemies. I'd prefer not to have any enemies, but that's not feasible in the Games.

There's only one other alliance after those two; the pair from 11 teamed with the pair from 6. They sit quietly, eating their food without saying much. They look strong, despite their dejected mannerisms.

Every other tribute sits by themselves, eating their own meal in complete silence. Frankly, I find it odd that Topher and I are the only small pairing. What is everyone else doing?

"Excuse me, is this spot open?" A boy appears at the head of our table. He's tall and skinny, with a small smile playing on the edge of his lips. As I struggle to place his District, Topher reacts.

"Oh, gracious me! What is that wondrous object you have there?" The russet-haired boy points a finger at a green fruit sitting on the newcomers tray.

"That's, uh, it's a pear." The boy's eyes slide to me and I can only shrug. I have no idea what Topher is up to.

"My! What an intriguing name!" Without asking, much less getting permission, Topher reaches forward and snatches the green fruit. "Amazing! Astonishing! Unbelievable! The texture is simply sublime!" As Topher begins to rub the pear with slow circular movements, I feel that I need to step in before things get any weirder.

"I'm Nicholas. He's Topher; don't mind his oddities, he never got out much." I stand up, only to remember my upset stomach as it churns uneasily. I grit my teeth to prevent any accidents.

"I'm Bastien," The boy sets his tray down and shakes my hand. Thankfully we both sit after that. My stomach is grateful. "Are you guys allied?"

"We are, actually. We were--Knock that off!" I swat the pear out of Topher's hand. He pauses mid-rub, then turns to Bastien and grins.

"You're from District 14," He says, surprising me with his knowledge. I had no idea Topher knew that much. I certainly didn't.

"Yeah, I am." Bastien laughs lightly. "Our District's got weather to die for."

"District Zero's weather kills you too. But only if you stay outside long enough."

There's a short silence. Then Bastien breaks out laughing. "Man, that's funny. You guys are great!"

I'm glad that he thinks so. Though I myself find Topher to be quite pleasant, I wouldn't be surprised if many people found him unbearable. Not Bastien, though. The two of them seem to be on a fast track to friendship, already exchanging cringe-worthy jokes as they eat.

Maybe he could ally with us? Bastien would certainly prove a worthwhile ally. While he's rather skinny, he is one of the tallest tributes here, and his skills with weapons can't be much worse than Topher's.

Before I can ask him to join, however, two more people stop by our table.

"Well isn't this a fun little gathering!" A very pretty girl with long strawberry blonde hair smiles brightly at the sight of us as the second girl with her stares blankly ahead. "Much better than that dour table over there." She jerks a thumb at the District 6/11 alliance, where they continue to eat in utter silence.

"Yeah, they're not a happy bunch," I say, returning her smile. Topher grins stupidly and offers a handshake, to my surprise. When I first met him, he had no idea what a handshake was. When I offered him one, he handed me the stick he was holding.

"Sumptuous morning!" He let's out a loud greeting as the girl shakes his hand.

"I'm Elia," She introduces herself. "And that's Emma. We were looking for more people to align with when we saw you."

"Neat. So were we." I look over at Bastien. I'm still not sure if he's with us. Right now, he's just staring at the two girls like they just descended from the clouds or something. "Think that we could join you?"

"Sure. Why not? The more the merrier!" Elia's smile widens as she sits down across from me. Emma does the same, but more slowly. She doesn't seem nearly as cheerful as her friend. I wonder why?

"You two are very beautiful." I cringe as Topher smiles at the girls. I should have expected that a guy who never left his house--and thus never saw a girl his own age before--would have no idea how to properly speak with one. Saying things like that out of the blue makes you look like a creep!

The girls don't seem to mind, oddly enough. Elia just laughs and calls him charming, while Emma cracks a small smile. Bastien groans loudly. "Dude. Have you ever even spoken to a girl before?"

"No. But I know from books!" Topher nods his head, a stupid grin plastered on his face. "First, you woo them with songs and flowers. Then you rescue them from certain death, and finally, they reward you!"

Well, that's one of putting it, I suppose. As our table is filled with lively chatter and laughter, I begin to feel better. But that feeling does not last long. The knowledge of the pact is ever constant in my mind. At first, I thought that Satan was simply trying to get me killed. But now I fear something worse.

What if he intends for me to live, but forces me to watch the death of everyone I know and love? What if all these wonderful people--Topher, Elia, Emma, and Bastien--die in the arena and I am helpless to stop it? That would be the worst. That would be almost unbearable.

I close my eyes and pray for the best.

Corin Greer (District 5)
As lunchtime slowly passes, I sit alone at my table and watch the other tributes filter back into the gymnasium.

I need an ally.

I'd prefer not to have one, really. I work best when alone, after all. But I'm not dumb enough to go into the arena alone. I'd be an easy target, someone everyone else would think to kill. Needless to say, that would hamper my survival chances.

But who to select as an ally? I am not at all exaggerating when I say that this choice is the biggest I will ever make in the Games. Selecting someone untrustworthy or dumb, reckless or arrogant, will result in our shared demise. If I fail to select someone worthy, I will fail to survive these Games.

The Anti-Careers shuffle pass my table, talking quietly to themselves. I've already ruled them out. A large alliance is not a place I intend to reside. Too much chaos. My gaze flickers past them to where the District 10 male, Avan, is swinging an axe around.

Truth be told, he was my first pick for an alliance. Strong, intelligent, self-dependent. He had everything I sought in an ally. Unfortunately, he does not seem to wish for any sort of alliance.

Already he's been approached by many other tributes. The Anti-Careers and the Fools--the name the Careers have attached to the alliance formed around the District 5 male--both asked Avan to join them. He declined. He even refused offers from a pair of loners, and an invitation from the Careers themselves. Suffice to say, he does not wish to burden himself with anyone.

Finding a single ally might prove quite troublesome. Already more than half of the tributes have flocked together and formed packs. Those that haven't joined one present their own problems.

Takeko from District Ten seems to have aligned herself with Carey from Twelve. The two of them stand near the elevators, conversing quietly. Carey stares ahead blankly, her eyes hollow and empty of emotion.

I've always known the eyes to the gateway to the soul. They tell you more about a person then words ever could. Carey, for example, seems to have lost something dear to her. The haunting, empty look in her eyes shows that. Yet I sense a strong feeling of desperation beneath that hollow shell. Anyone thinking her to be an easy kill are in for a surprise.

Takeko, for her part, is equally enthralling. Her light brown eyes shine with what I can only describe as a desire for vengeance. Someone has wronged her, perhaps did something to somebody she loves, and she will stop at nothing to see them destroyed.

I find myself wishing for her to die early in the Games. Someone with that strong of a motivation is too deadly to let hang around.

Nevertheless, I will not align myself with those two. Too unpredictable. Too risky. I allow my gaze to search out the few other loners.

Nylah is too much like myself. Twan is bland and unassuming. Literally nothing about him stands out to me. I'm not completely writing him off, but I pass over for now. Ophelia just doesn't meet the cut. Surorian is an interesting case. While he's certainly strong and intelligent enough to be my ally, I can't help but get an uneasy feeling as I watch him throw spears. If I aligned with him, I wouldn't be surprised to find a blade driven between my shoulder blades.

Then there's Cecil.

I watch him as he handles throwing stars, carefully going over them. I cannot see his eyes. The dark sunglasses that he always wears blocks them from my sight. He is a mystery, a conundrum. I do not know if he's a good ally, but I wish to find out.

If he's not, then I suppose I could always ally with Twan, as bland as he is.

I get up from the table and drift across the gymnasium towards Cecil as he begins to whip the throwing stars forward. I stop just on the edge of the training section, watching as he throws. Each star manages to hit the foam dummy, forming an almost perfect semi-circle on its face. Impressive.

"That's pretty good," I say as he finishes throwing the last of the stars. Immediately his head snaps towards me.

"Who're you?"

Strange question, but a perfectly valid one. "Corin Greer. District 5."

He nods slowly. "Right. I'm Cecil from District 8." He picks another stack of throwing stars off a nearby table and goes back to throwing them. I cross my arms and watch. Once more he always hits the dummy.

"Where'd you learn to throw those...things?" I try to start a conversation. I need to know as much about him as possible if I am to propose an alliance.

"Shuriken. They're called shurikens." When all the weapons have been thrown, Cecil stops and walks off the station, grabbing a water bottle and drinking deeply from it.

"Where'd you learn to throw them like that?" He has to have had prior experience. No way he learned to throw them so accurately in such a short amount of time he's been provided.

"Back home. I learned a lot of self-defense in my life." He stands awkwardly in front of me, occasionally throwing his head around to look at the other tributes as they shout and train.

"Didn't think District 8 was in a very good condition," I say, remembering what I overheard some Peacekeepers saying back home.

"It's not. But I learned before the...war." War. Most people in District 5 have been calling it a "rebellion". Makes me wonder what kind of things he's seen back in District 8. I can't ask, though. It doesn't matter to me. I need to focus on the Games, nothing else.

"Why are you so interested in me anyway?" Cecil finally asks the question I thought he would start with.

I shrug. "Was wondering if you would be a good ally."

"Y-you were?" Surprise is evident on both his face and in his voice. I'm actually surprised that he's surprised. Being as skilled as he is, you'd think that he'd expect an alliance request.

"Yeah. You interested?"

"I...I mean, why do you want an alliance with me?"

"Is there any reason why I wouldn't want an alliance?" Something is up with him. I don't know what. I peer into his face, trying to get a grasp on his thought process. God, I hate those sunglasses. Can't see eyes, can't understand what he's thinking.

"No. Nothing in particular." Cecil shakes his head, a wry smile forming on his face. "So, you want an alliance, huh?"

"That's what I just said," I'm not a fan of the way he's dragging this conversation out. "So, once again, you interested? If not, tell me quickly. I'll need to go speak with Twan if you decline."

"Of course I'm interested!" Cecil bobbles his head excitedly.

"Good." So my ally question has finally been answered. Cecil is a strong, skillful boy. I'm certain that this will be a lucrative partnership. I stick out a hand for the customary handshake, but Cecil only smiles, not taking it.

"So, should we train together? I mean, if we're allies, then we should know each other's strengths, right?"

I pull my hand back, feeling a little miffed. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be best."

The two of head off for another station, determined to use our allocated training time to the best of our ability.

Mercury Kwildor (District 1)
I roll out of bed at the ringing of my alarm. Yawning, I reach out to turn it off but instead find my arm brushing against the wall. I blink twice in surprise before remembering that I'm not in my own room. Right.

I stretch my limbs out after turning it off for real. Today could be a big day. The second and last day of group training, I'm going to have to use it to my best advantage, especially considering that, for the first time, the training period has been filmed.

I actually didn't know this until last night, when I saw the footage on the television. It's a unexpected move, but not really a surprising one. Of course the Capitol wants everyone to see us training, more exposure equals higher ratings, after all. It's also had an effect on the betting. Tributes with an impressive showing yesterday, like Surorian, shot right up in odds. On the other side of the spectrum, people like Topher saw theirs plummet.

I need to make my own strong impression. I need to prove that just because I'm homosexual, I'm not any less of a threat.

I reflect on this as I dress for the day. It's not the Capitol who I need to prove it too, they're perfectly fine with me. It's the District's. I realize that I won't be a fan favorite with them--odds are I'll be their least favorite, or at least among them--but that won't stop me. Nothing will.

Once I'm finished dressing I hurry out to the dining room. Valencia and our mentors are already there, eating. As I sit down at my own spot, I ignore the sneer I get from Copper, one of our mentors. He's like Fierro, a person who won't approve of me no matter what I do.

Still, it bugs me that he's one of the most influential figures in District 1.

"So what's your plans for the day, lovelies?" Anais Morrisa, our other mentor, smiles as she pops a grape into her mouth. Leaning back in her chair, with a perfectly manicured figure, she looks the part of District 1's most recent Victor. And deadliest. She holds the record for the most kills by a female tribute in a single Hunger Games.

"Oh, you know," Valencia flashes one of her trademark grins, her long blonde braids swishing behind her head. "Showcase my skills, intimidate the competition, the usual."

"I'm going to show off my true strength," I reply primly.

"That won't be hard," Copper says with a smirk. "It's not like you have any real strength anyway."

I feel all the muscles in my body tense. "You want to see my real strength?"

He laughs. "Kid, if you and I were to fight, you wouldn't last more than ten seconds."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." I don't care about his accomplishments. He's still not going to best me in a fight. Not with that attitude.

"I made three kills at the bloodbath alone," Copper picks up his mug and takes a sip. The implication is clear.

"You think I couldn't do that?"

"Oh, I know you can't."

Valencia and Anais smile broadly, obviously enjoying this altercation. But I just feel annoyed. I've already gone through this! Enough! I'm not going to waste my time with someone who'll never be impressed with me.

I focus on my meal, quietly eating my food. Everyone else seems disappointed that the argument has ended. Even those two girls who seem to function as Anais' bodyguards seem upset. Phaw!

After breakfast, Valencia and I are silently shuffled into the elevator. Once we're alone, the blonde girl chuckles softly. "He played you like a fiddle."

"He did not." Even though Valencia was at the academy the same time I was, I don't remember what her thoughts on my situation are.

"Yes, he did. You're going to try and best his bloodbath performance now, aren't you?"

"I am not." The words feel hollow coming out. Truth be told, I was considering trying to outperform Copper. That's the best way of shutting him up, after all. But now I feel like that might be playing right into his hands.

"You're a terrible liar," She makes a pouty face which quickly transitions into a grin. "Just remember, you're apart of my alliance. Get yourself killed doing something stupid, and I'll murder you, alright?"

The elevators open just at that moment and she skips into the gymnasium, heading straight for Harley and Aphrodite, who're sitting at an empty cafeteria table. I exit more slowly. The encounter with Copper has got me thinking, and now I can't stop wondering what I should do.

Still deep in thought, I wander over to where the rest of the Careers have gathered. Training hasn't yet started, and the only other tributes that have arrived are the District 10 tributes, so they're just loitering around the Gauntlet.

"--I'm telling you that we shouldn't overlook them," Silve is saying to Pompeii. The redheaded boy has his hands clasped behind his back and staring our leader down with his strikingly blue eyes.

"I'm not overlooking them, I just don't see them as a credible threat," Pompeii replies smoothly.

"What are they talking about?" I stop beside Mario and Ash, both of whom are sitting on the steps of the Gauntlet watching the conversation.

Ash shrugs. "Don't know, don't care."

"They're speaking about the Anti-Careers and whether we should be worried about them," Little Mario answers. I like her. Despite her size, or lack thereof, I think that she's the most well-rounded person in this alliance. "Silve thinks we should make sure to cull their numbers early, Pompeii just doesn't care."

"Oh." I watch as the two continue their discussion. I don't know if Silve is putting too much thought into this, or if the rest of us aren't putting enough. He's the only one who really seems focused on game strategy; we're all just making it up as we along. "Whose in the Anti's, again?"

Ash shrugs once more. "Don't know, don't care."

"The District 3 tributes, the 8 female, the 9 male, and Luigi from 13," Mario answers without missing a beat. I feel a little bad that I didn't bother to remember who was in the alliance that is, by the very definition of the name, against us.

"Thanks, Mario." I pat the girl on the head. "Those are some intriguing opponents."

As we fall silent, I'm once more left with my thoughts. I'll make a name for myself in these Games no matter what. The only question is whether or not it'll be a good one.

Takeko Zhou (District 10)
No tribute here is a threat to me. Some would say that I am overconfident, but they would be wrong. It is not arrogance when it is the truth. The Careers have been trained in the way of battle, but they lack the true passion and skill required to be truly great. They will be decent opposition, but in the end that is all they will be. Opposition that was eliminated by the eventual Victor.

Carey sits beside me, watching as the tributes from District 6 exit the elevator and join the ever-growing throng. Soon the second day of training will commence and we'll be allowed to further hone our skills.

Not that I need the practice. My skills are already near perfect.

Neither Carey nor I say anything as we wait. And why would we? What is there to say? We both know what needs to happen. We both know that everyone must die for us to live, including each other. When the time comes, I'll kill Carey without blinking an eye, and I know she'll do the same to me. Our alliance is one born of necessity, nothing more.

Carey is not exactly the most threatening of tributes; she is thin and boney, with bloodshot eyes that always stare blankly ahead. Her plain brown hair is cut short in an utilitarian buzzcut, and scars cover each cheek of her face. She's seen some terrible stuff in her life, and has some ghosts of the past haunting her, but I do not know what. Nor do I care.

I have my own ghosts to kill.

I watch the Gamemakers as they sit on the raised platform above us, shielded by a forcefield. They're not as elaborately dressed as I have come to expect from Capitolites. They're wearing purple outfits, situated around an plain gray table as they quietly chatter amongst themselves.

They remind me of the last person I need to kill, the last surviving member of the cartel that murdered my parents. Technically, they were members of my father's cartel. Betrayal. It's what made their already unforgivable crimes worse. What made their deaths even more necessary then they were.

Only one more death to go. Once he is dead, I will rebuild my father's empire from the ruins of Panem and rule it with an iron fist. I will be the most powerful person alive. But first things first. I must win these Games.

"Your district partner has joined the Careers," I say idily to Carey as I notice the blond boy sitting with the pack. "Does he think that they'll protect him, or is he just fond of killing?"

"He's trying to protect his siblings," Carey doesn't look up as she responds. She sounds strangely...bitter. Envious, almost. "They're the only things he cares about in this world. Lucky him."

"Wait. You spoke with him?" Carey doesn't speak with anyone! She's barely said more than three sentences to me, and I'm her ally.

"Yes." Carey turns her head away to stare at the wall. I will not be getting any more out of her. That's fine. I don't need any more information. All I need is to further refine my skills, and seeing as all the tributes have finally arrived, I can finally do that.

Mario Firth (District 4)
As all the tributes gather around, Kekai blows his whistle, starting the second day of group training. My movements are sure and bold as I head straight for the spears. While the majority of the other tributes aren't an immediate threat, I am concerned with the height and strength of my fellow Careers.

I grew up with the knives, so it was hard to let them go when picking up a weapon, but I am at a severe disadvantage with my short little knives. Already I'm hampered by my small height and light weight, and with knives, I'd easily have to get within arm's reach to attack them, putting me in far too much danger. I prefer to throw them, true, but that alone won't guarantee my victory.

"What did I tell you, Mario? You should have picked something with a little better range, or the others will squish you like a bug." The voice of my sister Reese speaks to me as I pick up a spear. She had ragged on me for my weapon's choice for years, even though half the time I was able to work my way through her defense, but fifty percent is not a good enough probability for the Games. I need an increase.

The more control I have, the easier the Games will be, and the faster I will get home. I frown as I heft the spear. They seem thicker than the ones back home and I don't care much for the steel shaft; I can already feel my grip slipping and my hands aren't even sweaty.

I throw the spear quickly. My enemy isn't going to wait for me to set my feet, so I work on reflex and reaction time. The spear hits the waistline and I make a noise of disgust. Debilitating, sure, but certainly not fatal. I'm going to need to lot of my time here, but I make a mental note to check out poison plants. Over the years I've seen a handful of Careers die from carelessly eating poisoned fruit--I vow I will not be one of them.

Spears aren't my preferred weapon. In all honestly, I'd rather use a trident. Tridents and spears are similar, but they're certainly not the same thing. Being skilled with one doesn't equate to being awesome with the other, not when they're so different to wield and hold. Yet I cannot just focus soley on tridents; they're not always provided at the cornucopia, but spears are.

Just as I get ready to throw the next spear, I hear a tutting behind me, "No, no, you're not holding it right. Your body is completely out of line and those feet are a disgrace."

I raise my eyebrows as I look at a Capitol trainer walk over to me at a clipped pace. His pale eyes are rather startling in his white face and I wonder where he got the idea that he would look good with such pale skin, made paler by his sleek blue hair.

He doesn't even ask permission before he's straitening my body out and I don't hesitate to slap his hands away.

"I know how to stand!"

"Then do it!"

"Not every stance can be perfect while making a split second decision," I argue. Trying that in the Games will get a person killed.

"You'll be in more danger if you can't even throw straight."

He does however fix my grip on the spear so that it feels more comfortable in my hands and my next throw lands just a shade below the heart. I hesitate to thank him, but a thought strikes me and I do my best to put a humble smile on.

"Thank you for your instruction. Can you help me with anything else?"

I glance around the room very quickly to take stock of everyone. Silve is talking to that really weird boy, Surorian? I can't remember. Valencia whaling at a dummy with a shiny sword. It strikes me as disturbing that I am no longer shocked by her voraciousness. I silently warn myself not to become too comfortable with her psychotic behavior, lest my attention lapse at a critical moment.

Pompeii is acting the hot shot, being in a sword fight with a trainer, but instead of a straight fight he's doing all these fancy moves and twirls. I see half a dozen openings alone to get through his defenses, but the trainer seems awestruck at having such an athletic student. I don't pay much attention to the rest of the poor tributes. They're practically living corpses and the thoughts of their deaths make me nauseous.

Not seeing them as people doesn't feel right, but what can I do about it? They are all destined for death. It's not like that can be changed. Still, if I am to be the one to kill them, I'll make sure to do it quickly.

I shake myself free of the thought and refocus on my plan. To be receiving instruction like this from a trainer will probably make the other Careers look at me as the weakest link. Let them. They'll just be even more surprised when I stab them all in the face and win these Games.

Lilah Jöllenbeck (District 8)
They're going to kill you, you know. Violet's voice pounds through my head as I watch Jonah and Luigi run the Gauntlets, Teddy and Jayda cheering them on. ''They're only keeping you around so that they have a scapegoat for when something goes wrong. They'll kill you without a second thought.''

Be quiet, I snap back at her. ''You're not even real. How would you know?''

Violet laughs cruelly. ''You actually believe that nonsense? You're pathetic!''

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, willing Violet to go away. She's not real. Dr. Strauss told me so. I suffer from...schizophrenia, I think he called it? Yes, schizophrenia. I suffer from that, and Violet is just a manifestation of my mind, and she's not real. I don't believe it, but that's what he says. That she's not real at all.

Keep telling yourself that, you stupid little--

I clap my hands over my ears, and am surprised when Violet actually shuts up. That doesn't usually work. Violet typically keeps ranting on and on and on. Maybe I'm finally learning how to shut her up. I hope so. I hate her. And she's only gotten worse since I've been shoved into these Games.

Always talking about how I'll die. How brutally I'll die. How I'll deserve it. How Ashton deserved it. How Violet will--

"Hey, Lilah!"

"Shut up! Shut up, you psychopathic--" My words cut off as I realize that it's not Violet whose speaking, not her whom I just screamed at. Jonah backs off from me, his eyes wide with surprise. Beside him, Jayda and Teddy watch with stunned expressions.

Oh, God. Oh, God. This was the first time I've broken down in front of them. Let them see through the sugary sweet facade I've been hiding behind. I can hear Violet chuckling. So she was only pretending to be gone. She probably planned this.

"I-I'm sorry, Jonah," I stammer out an apology, my thoughts drowned out by Violet's laughter. "I'm just...stressed."

My explanation sounds lame, even to me. They would be justified to kick me out from the alliance, to abandon me. But Jonah only nods, his eyes watching my face closely. "Yeah. I see..."

"We're all a little stressed," Jayda says softly, walking up to us. Her face is full of concern. "It's understandable that we might snap under the pressure."

Snap. Lose control. Violet could take control of my body, she's done it before. She makes me say things I don't wanna say, do things I don't wanna do. Dr. Strauss thinks she's not real, but he's wrong. If she wasn't real, then how could she do the things she does? How could she so thoroughly take control of me?

"Guys, over here!" Luigi waves at us from beside the Holographic Chamber. It's last occupants, the Fools, are already shuffling away from it. "Let's try our luck!"

We all walk over and join our leader around the box. He, of course, offers to try it out first. I watch as he enters the box, so full of confidence. He'll kill you the moment he sees how weak you truly are. Violet sounds smug.

"Shut up. You're just jealous," I grit my teeth, wishing for the umpteenth time that she would just leave me alone.

Jealous? She laughs loudly. ''Of what? Those pitiful humans you call friends? No thanks, you can keep those weaklings to yourself.''.

"I said you were jealous, not envious," I just want to beat myself senseless, beat Violet out of my head. Why does she seem to have so much more control then I do? "You're jealous because you think that if I get close with them, I'll forget all about you and you'll be left alone."

Silence.

Did I get it right? Is Violet truly afraid that I'll forget about her? I want to call her back and ask her, but at the same time I'm thankful for the quiet inside my head. Before I was sent into the Games, she was appearing less and less. But since then, she's been more active. Is she afraid I'll die?

Cheers erupt from my allies beside me. Inside the Holographic Chamber, Luigi thrusts his spear through the last hologram. Words flash across the box proclaiming his victory.

"Nice job!" Jonah fist bumps the taller boy as he exits.

"Thanks!" Words are exchanged. Pleasantries. Happiness. So short lived. So sad. Soon everyone will die. I will die. Violet will die. Perhaps that is for the best. I don't know. There seems to be so much that I don't know.

As Jayda enters the chamber, I hear Violet's quiet voice in my head. ''You won't die. Trust me, you won't die. You'll win these Games. I'll make sure you do.''

Nylah Nichole (District 14)
As the bell rings and the second day of trainings lunch begins, I select a table at the far end of the cafeteria and sit and watch as everyone else funnels in.

I've spent this precious time differently than everyone else has. While they've focused soley on improving their strengths and shoring up their weaknesses, I watched. While they created alliances and formed pacts, I observed their tendencies. When they thought no one was there to see, I was.

I know more about these tributes then perhaps even the Gamemakers do.

The Careers, loud and boisterous as they commandeer the largest table, are the first to arrive. They sit down and laugh as they talk, their every little action being analysed. Pompeii, their leader, shows a front of being tough and carefree, but beneath that vaneer is a self-conscious boy. He's always looking at his hands when he thinks no one can see, always fidgeting with them. His metal hands are perhaps his biggest weakness as well as greatest strength.

Valencia, so proud and playful. She has a tendency to anger quickly, and does not enjoy underperforming. I saw her tantrum when she failed the Ropes Course. In that one moment, she showed all the weaknesses I could ever possibly need to know.

Mercury is indecisive and an utter failure with plants. Silve is overly suspicious, constantly checking over his shoulder for nonexistent threats. Aphrodite is arrogant to a fault and easily manipulated--she is wrapped around Pompeii's thumb. And Mario, little Mario, her size betrays her, but so too does her disdain for any and all symbols of authority. She'll do what she wants when she wants.

People think that the Careers are infallible, but I know that they are not. They're human--weak and exploitable, just like us all. I can take them down.

The Anti-Careers file in behind them, their namesake alone making them a credible threat. Their leader is a particular case, he shows little weakness. But take away his allies, and what will he become? Time will tell.

Jonah and Teddy are too dependent on their allies. They'll die without assistance. Jayda and Lilah both have some form of mental weakness--one talks to herself, the other stares off into space. Both inflictions will cause trouble in the Games.

The second two large alliances seat themselves at tables closer to me. The Fools--well, they are fools. I need say no more. The District 11 pair are entirely too attached to one another. The brother will do anything to protect his sister. Kill her, and you have effectively killed him as well.

Lavender is slow and lacks real skill with a weapon. The District 8 girl seems to be afraid of her, however. I haven't managed to work that one out yet. Her district partner, Armado, is one of the most well-rounded tributes. He doesn't have any devastating weaknesses, and his strengths work well to his advantage. He is someone to watch.

I stiffen as two people take the table next to mine. Corin and Cecil. The boy won't be a threat--he is blind. I don't think any of the other tributes have noticed, Corin certainly hasn't, but that alone makes it nigh impossible for him to win. I'm not being prejudice, I'm being realistic.

The girl stares at me as she sits, her brown eyes narrowing. A white, black-fringed half-cape flutters over her shoulders. I haven't been able to pinpoint her weaknesses yet, but I will. One can only hide them for so long.

"You watching us for a reason?" She surprise me with a direct question. Cecil spins around in his seat.

"What do you want?" Though he stares right at me, I know that he cannot possibly know who I am. Yet he knew where I sat. Perhaps he heard Corin's movements and mimicked them?

"I want nothing. Especially from you." Few people ever speak with me. They're often too afraid or disgusted.

She laughs a humorless laugh. "Yeah, okay then. Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"Oh? What am I doing?"

"You're analyzing all the tributes, scanning them for their weaknesses." I clench my jaw. So she is more observant then I thought. That makes her dangerous. Dangerous people are a threat to my survival. Threats must be eliminated.

I turn my back on the girl without giving a response and I hear her hiss of breath as I do. Corin Greer has just catapulted to the top of my list of worthwhile opponents. I don't think that she'll like what that entails for her.

Surorian Chaos (The Capitol)
Unbridled rage burns inside me as I practice with my blade. The steel sword is like a feather in my hands, weightless and easy to swing. I slice through training dummies with the greatest of ease. Upon my completion of the circuit, the trainer applauds me for my skills.

His praise does nothing for me. There is only one person whom I strive to see my true strength.

President Leopold Stryker.

Anger flares in my system as I think about him. He didn't take me seriously. Doesn't take me seriously. I should be leading an army in the war effort against those Blackcloaks, but I am not. That damned fool sent me here instead, to play games with children.

I watch the Career Pack as they finish eating and return to the weapon stations, talking loudly as they pick up where they left off. Those bumbling fools are the pinnacle of combatants. The cream of the crop. And yet they do not hold a candle to me. I could kill them as easily as I kill a mouse.

Why am I wasting my time and skill here? I could be doing so much more. President Stryker wastes my talents, my convictions. Well, I'll show him. I'll win these Games, shattering all the records along the way. Hell, I might even win the Games at the bloodbath!

I smile to myself, dropping the sword to the ground as I go to over to the axe station. I shove past the boy from District 3 as I do. He tips over and loses his balance, landing butt first on the ground. I'm selecting an axe from the rack when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Aren't you going to apologize?"

I turn around to find that wench from District 0 behind me, her dark blue eyes filled with reproach. I snort loudly as I shake her hand off. "Apologize for what? That moron got in my way!"

"You pushed him to the floor!" Oh, so she's one of those types, is she? "He barely was in your path, yet you just shoved him!"

"Doesn't look like he minds." I run my fingers along the handle of my chosen axe, not enjoying this conversation. Had we been in the Games, this girl would be dead already.

She looks over her shoulder to search for the boy, who has already scurried away towards his allies as they group around the elevators. "That's only because you scare him!"

"Not my problem." Is this girl stupid or something? Why does she even care about something as insignificant as this? Doesn't she realize that everyone will die in that arena?

"Yeah? Well, keep up that attitude and it will be your problem!" The girl steps forward so that she's right in my face, except since I'm a half foot taller, she's more of in my chest.

"What're you gonna do about it?" I egg her on just to do it. There's literally nothing I can gain from such a stupid conversation, but I can make her angry. Make her upset. Make her feel the hatred for the system. "Hit me and you'll be thrown out of training, maybe even executed."

The girl's eyes widen in anger. She knows I'm right. Even about the execution part. My mentor told me about what really happened last Games. Personally, I hope the idiot is dumb enough to hit me. One less tribute is one step closer to victory for me.

"You won't last long in the Games if you anger everyone," The girl gives me one last glare before turning and storming off in a huff. I watch her go with a sly grin. She's nothing to me. Worth less than the dirt on my shoes.

Still, I won't mind killing her if it comes down to it.

Armado Roynclaw (District 6)
I don't trust Alpha. Oh, I know that he's technically my ally, but that doesn't mean he has my best interests at heart. He--and his sister, Omega--are only aligned with me because it best serves their game strategy. The moment that is no longer true, they will turn on us.

That's why I'm going to keep an eye on them. No one can betray you if you're already expecting them to do it.

"Armado, you need to lighten up," Lavender leans over a nearby rack, her arms crossed as the both of us watch Omega attempt to use a slingshot. She's terrible, beyond terrible, reslly. She can barely hold the thing.

I try not to sigh in exasperation. "And why would I do that? You do realize where we are, right?"

"Of course I do!" Lavender tosses her head, sunset blonde hair splaying down her back. It's much cleaner and prettier than it was back in District 6; probably because she's actually able to wash it now. "But you don't want to spend what could be your final days as a grumpy grouch, do you?"

"If being a "grumpy grouch" keeps me alive, then maybe I do." It's hard to think about how my days may be numbered. I still don't even really remember much about my life prior to waking up in that bomb shelter, so I really don't want to die now. I want to live a life I can remember, not die a forgettable death.

"Nice tributes last longer than jerks," Lavender says.

"Right." Not sure that's true at all, but I'm not going to argue. Not with Lavender. I trust her. More than anyone else. Hell, she's the only person in the world who I trust. Spanner and Braddock both deserted me at the first sign of trouble, but Lavender stuck with me. She's the only person who ever has.

Alpha walks up to help Omega along with her slingshot. He seems to be teaching her the proper way to hold it. He's so protective of his sister. So attached. That makes him dangerous.

"Armado, Alpha is a good guy," Lavender sense my thoughts. "He won't betray us unnecessarily."

"That's not what I'm worried about." What concerns me, is when his betrayal becomes necessary. When he thinks that the two of us are no longer needed. He's big and strong, fast and skilled with weapons. I'd never admit this to anyone, but the reason he concerns me so much is because I don't think I can beat him in a straight-up fight.

"He's not Morina. He won't do the same thing."

Morina. My blood boils at the name alone. What the hell was that girl thinking? Did she hate me so much that she wanted to watch me die? Well, screw her! I'm going to win these Games, then shove that knowledge in her face. I'm not dying because of her!

Except...

I watch Lavender as she stretches out and goes to help Alpha and Omega. They let her hold the slingshot and she actually manages to get a shot off, unlike Omega. Lavender doesn't deserve to be here. But because of Morina, because of me, she is. She'll die in the arena, and it'll be all my fault.

Why, oh why, couldn't I have stayed inside the shelter? Life wasn't sunshine and rainbows back there, but at least death wasn't guaranteed.

I have little desire to continue training. All the rage and justified fury has died down inside me. I just watch my "allies" train as the remaining time ticks away. Gradually the gymnasium begins to clear. The Fools are the first to leave, two of the boys cracking nonsensical jokes as the rest speak quietly with one another. A few loners follow them. Then half the Anti's. As Alpha leads the way from station to station, trying to find something that Omega is good at, the other tributes continue to exit.

Eventually, as evening begins to fall, the only people left besides for us are a handful of Careers, the District 10 male, and Cecil from 8. He's drifting from every station, trying everything once. He seems eager to get a grasp on anything he can.

"We need to get some rest," Lavender says as the Head Trainer calls for the end of training. "Tomorrow is the private sessions. We all want good scores, right?"

"I'm not good at anything," Omega says sadly.

Alpha kneels beside her. "You're good at a lot of things. Like running and climbing."

"Yeah, that'll do her a lot of good in the arena," I can't help but say, "She'll be able to run the competition to death."

Alpha scowls at me and Lavender punches me in the shoulder as Omega begins to quietly sob. I feel a little bad, but only a little. The truth is the truth, after all. You can't hide from it, nor can you run. I know, because I've tried.

Wait. Huh. A faint tickling of a memory drifts around inside my head. It's nothing substantial, but it's more than I've had before. Guess that's progress.

We enter the same elevator as Mario and Pompeii. Neither of them speak to us, but they don't outright ignore us either. It's just a peaceable silence. The calm before the storm, so to speak.

And what a storm it'll be.

Training Scores & Odds
This time around Training Scores will effect the amount of money a tribute has available to them, either negatively or positively. Below is the key that shows you what score earns what.

12= +$100

10/11= +$75

8/9= +$50

7= +25

5/6= -$25

4/3= -$50

2/1= -$75

Harley Paramour (District 2)
I can't sleep. I have difficulty imagining that anyone can. Tomorrow. Tomorrow bright and early, we are heading to the Games, where thirty-one of us will die and only one of us will live. Even as a Career, the thought chills me to the bone.

Right now I'm sitting in front of my giant window wall, flipping through all the scenes. Street scenes of the Capitol, a view of the President's Palace, a beautiful fountain where Capitol residents are lingering. There's a shot of a forest where the trees shoot up into the sky so high that I can't even see the tops, a lovely snow scene on a mountain…and I can't help but wonder which environment we'll be greeted with tomorrow.

It doesn't even have to be just one. In recent years the Capitol has begun mixing and matching various environments to ensure maximum excitement. They need to keep things fresh, otherwise the audience will get bored.

At least, that's what they say. I feel like that the audience would enjoy any type of games at all. They'll complain if its lacking in excitement, but that's all they'll do. Their fevor for death and killing will never end...

The past few days have been a whirlwind of emotion, none of it good. Tate's brutal murder is always in my mind, always lurking. I can barely breathe, sometimes, when I think on it. He was my everything. He was what made life worth living, and with him gone, what am I?

I can't cry anymore. It feels like I'm betraying Tate, not crying. But the tears don't come. Not anymore. Now there's just this bone-aching sadness that never leaves. A deep, penetrating sadness that burrows into me. Nothing seems worth the effort anymore...except...

Blair.

He's still alive. Trapped in District 2 with my monster of a father. Will he grow up without ever knowing either of his parents? Will he even know we existed, or will my father ensure that he never finds out?

There's only one way I can get him back. Win the Games. Come home as Victor. Surely then I will be able to take back Blair, get vengeance for Tate, and live my life...right? It feels like that should be the right response, but I don't know. It's hard to feel anything right now.

But I won't give up. I will win, and then, maybe just maybe, everything will turn out alright.

Carey Brand (District 12)
It's early in the morning when Ash and I are taken from our rooms and led to the elevators. Ash is groggy and out of sorts, several times he begins to slump over as we ride the elevator down, eyes flickering shut as he fights off the approach of sleep.

I'm not tired. I'm never tired, not anymore. Maybe that's the wrong way to put it. It's not that I'm not tired, it's just that I'm always tired. Always feeling the same. Always dreading sleep and the nightmares it'll bring.

Blood. Fire. Bullets. Death.

Houses burning. People getting shot in the streets. Black angels of death drifting down from the sky. Colton's charred face as the fire burns his skin off. The scent of his flesh as it burnt.

Explosions. Death. Death everywhere.

I find myself breathing hard, hands clenched into fists at my side. I see it everytime. Every single time I try to sleep. I see my brothers death, I see my homes destruction, I see those Blackcloaks come raining in from the sky. I can't stop what I see when I sleep, so I just stopped sleeping. That way I don't have to see.

"Y'all don't look so good," Ash says when he notices my reaction. I calm a little at the sight of him. He's from home. He experienced the same thing I did. But his family survived. They managed to get on the train. Mine didn't. Mine were lost in the blood and fire and--

"You're going to give yourself a heart attack."

Ash's harsh voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I stare at him long and hard, wondering what it'd feel like to be in his position. He actually has something to go back to if he wins. Would it feel better? Or worse? After all, his precious siblings will end up dead no matter how hard he tries to keep thm alive. Everyone dies eventually.

"You're with the Careers," I speak quietly, wishing this elevator moved quicker. How deep are we going? "What do you care?"

He snorts loudly, leaning back against the wall. "Just tryin' to stay alive. No point in chasin' death."

I wanted to ally with him. He was from home. He knew pain, real pain, and he was someone I could rely on. But he chose the Careers. "You think I'm chasing death?"

"You sure look like it."

I shake my head. That's the only response I'm capable of giving. I don't want to die. I won't die. I won't be able to live, but I won't die.

Can't live. Won't die. Can't live. Won't die.

Luigi Iris (District 13)
When the elevator finally stops, Ophelia and I emerge into a long, dark hallway. "Guess we keep walking," I say wryly. She doesn't even crack a smile. Makes sense. Not everyone has the heart to think positive when faced with such a situation.

We go in silence as we follow the corridor to a large room. A hovercraft sits in the center, surrounded by Peacekeepers and facility staff dressed in white. Perhaps Ophelia's unresponsive attitude is because of the training scores revealed last night. She only managed to receive a 5, not a very good score at all. I myself scored an 8. It's a good score, but still three points off the highest score, an 11 belonging to Silve.

I see the boy now as the other tributes emerge from adjacent tunnels, being funneled towards the hovercraft. He's not the leader of the Careers--that would be the boy from 4, Pompeii--but he might be their biggest threat. I'll need to keep an eye on him.

As we're led into the hovercraft, people come up to insert our trackers. I expect them to inject it into our arms, but to my surprise they instead stick the needle into the back of our necks.

"Ouch!" Bastien from 14 flinches away as they put his in. "What the hell, man?"

"Let's see them remove those," One of the Peacekeepers chuckles from behind me. Who? What is he talking about? I don't have the time or position to ask, unfortunately. I'm seated between Jayda and Lilah as the hovercraft doors slide shut and begins to take off. Almost immediately the windows go black.

"Where do you think we're going?" I ask my allies quietly. Pretty much everyone else is deathly silent. Only a few Careers speak loudly, but even most of them look a little uneasy.

"...hmm?" Jayda pulls her gaze away from a blank wall to glance at me. "Did you say something?"

Lilah mutters something to herself. At least I think it was herself. I can't understand what she says, at any rate. I repeat my question but Jayda only shrugs. Lilah doesn't even respond. I'm actually completely confused as to how she got a 9 in training. She certainly didn't seem to have that great of skills, but I suppose she must have been hiding them.

I lose track of time after that, but it seems to be a relatively short amount of it before our hovercraft is landing and we're led out into a circular room. Dozens of doors each branch off into different directions. I wish my allies a quiet goodbye as Peacekeepers lead me to my room.

Inside, my stylist Sepulveda is waiting. Wordless, she hands me a package which must contain my arena outfit. Without expecting much, I open it up. There's a simple yellow T-shirt and matching jacket--yellow being the color for District 13--plus a pair of simple black pants with yellow stripes. Then there's a pair of running shoes and a belt, which I attach around my waist.

After that, there's nothing to do but wait. I can't help but think of my brother Mario. He's in District 1, training to be a Peacekeeper. What must he think of me now? Is he okay? There is a war going on, after all, and he is a soldier...

"Thirty seconds until launch," A voice booms over the speakers. My hands fly to my neck where the half of my locket is. A picture of my mother is inside. Mario has the other half. Sepulveda steps away from me and I step over into the tube, which immediately falls around me. With a deep breath, I press my hands against the glass. Sephora nods, and I turn around to face the concrete wall. This is it.

"Twenty seconds until launch." My heart pounds against my ribcage and a surge of unfed adrenaline is loud in my ears.

"Ten seconds until launch." The tube slowly begins to rise and I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and counting to ten. When I open them again, I find myself atop a wooden deck. The sun is hidden behind gray clouds as I survey the cornucopia. All around me are the other thirty-one tributes. The wooden walkway seems to be suspended above the ground, through a crack between the boards I see murky water. A swamp? I don't know. No time to think.

It's time for the Games to begin.

Armado Roynclaw (District 6)
The sun beats against my head. The cornucopia shines in the light. We stand in a wide circle on a large, circular wooden platform, walkways run down from the cornucopia like spokes on a wheel hub. Each one seems to lead to a different biome.

An eerie silence hangs over the arena. I've lived in District 6 for my entire life. I've grown accustomed to noise. To the never-ending hum of machinery, the rattling of trains, and the take offs of Hovercrafts. Noise has always been with me. But now, now there is nothing. The only sound in this immaculate, impeccable platform is the breathing of my commpetitors and the beating of my own heart.

It reminds me vaguely of District 6 after the bombs dropped. But back then there wasn't this ring of death, with thirty-two teenagers waiting to sprint off their plates and kill one another.

I turn my shoulders, gaze flickering to the cornucopia. Clear crystal, angular, and sharp, there are backpacks and small weapons strewn across the surrounding wooden boards.

But inside the cornucopia--Inside the cornucopia I can see a plethora of steel weapons. Things I have names for, like swords and spears. And things I have no name for. Things I've only ever seen at the training center. Yet I'm sure they'll rip and tear flesh all the same.

There are also crates upon crates of food piled inside the crystal cornucopia. Supplies that will keep us alive throughout the Games. If we could risk fighting for them.

I flicker my gaze to my trusted ally, Lavender. She's located on the opposite end of the circle, shoulders tense and feet shifting as she gazes out at the cornucopia, to the sky, and then to me. Some unknown emotion passes through her eyes.

I know our strengths, our weaknesses. I am the brawn, the muscle that fights for us. She's the brains, the mind of the alliance. She can find food and supplies for us in any environment. At least, that's what I hope she can do.

Lavender nods at me, and I slowly return it. For some reason, I don't think either of us knows what that means.

Nicholas Mecha (District 5)
A light flickers on above the cornucopia, coalescing into a holographic image of the number "60".

Beside me, one of the younger tributes abandons her laboured breathing for a horrified, high-pitched wail. It echoes around the deathly silent platform, bouncing back to fill our ears with dread. I know that it's not mandatory for everyone to kill at the bloodbath, but I also know that fact won't stop the killing. We're fighting for supplies that will help us survive the next days, and that means 'til death do we stop.

The holographic light coalesces into a "59". This time accompanied by a low thrum of noise, almost drowning out the girl who still wails. I think she's from District 12. Or 8. Maybe 11. Somewhere weak, I think, because I committed the names and faces of everyone important to memory. I don't remember this girl.

The number shifts to "58", and the noise thrums again, world buzzing beneath my feet.

Panic nips at my side, my breathing becoming quicker and shallower. I need a strategy. My alliance and I didn't think of one before the Games. And I've seen the game played often enough to know that those without a strategy die first. Judging by the look on Valencia's face, I will be lucky not to get killed within seconds.

The light thrums once more and the light coalesces as my mind spins, taking in every available strategy.

I could run away as fast as I can, hoping that my allies will find me. One of those straight walkways would suffice. But the walkway is long and will make me a clear target for anyone else.

And given how narrow they are, and the lack of other options, I just know that these walkways will become a bottleneck full of bloodshed and death.

I'll need supplies, though. I don't think I can just get up and run without any. Especially water. Satan won't even need to intervene if I don't get any water. I'll be dead in days.

My allies seem to spread out all over the platform. Trying to meet with them could prove problematic. Not good. Nothing seems good right now. Nothing at all.

The world thrums in tune with my rapid heartbeat. The countdown is at "30". Half my time is gone. Soon these Games will begin. And death will be upon us all.

Pompeii Vulcan (District 4)
Thirty seconds.

That's how long we have until these Games begin. Before the battle for honor and valor commences. I stretch out my arms, staring at the cornucopia and casting my gaze around for the quickest path to the mouth of it.

That'll be my strategy. Have the Careers defend the cornucopia and the precious items it holds. But first I have something to prove.

Takeko stands on the platform to my right. She remains completely still, yet I see her eyes darting around, taking in her surroundings at lightning speed. She's a threat. One I do not intend to deal with just yet, especially not on my own.

To my left is Ophelia. The small, dark-haired girl has shifted herself around so that she faces away from the cornucopia, staring down the walkway that seems to lead to some sort of rocky landscape. She intends to run away as quickly as possible, it seems. Or maybe grab that one backpack that, for some reason, is positioned behind our platforms.

As the countdown reaches the last few seconds I come to a decision. Killing someone as weak as Ophelia isn't the most honorable thing, but it is a necessary one.

5...

I position myself so that I may confront Ophelia immediately.

4...

I regulate my breathing.

3...

I tense my muscles.

2...

I grit my teeth.

1...

Gong!

I lunge off my platform. To my right, Takeko goes sprinting towards the cornucopia. I, however, head straight for Ophelia. The girl is grabbing at the aforementioned backpack when I crash into her. The impact sends her flying to the ground, arms splaying out behind her as I punch her in the skull.

Her face goes blank as I land two more punches, one to each side of the head. With my metal fists, I am more deadly then anyone else. There's a dull cracking sound, then she goes stiff, eyes staring sightlessly into the sky. I rise slowly, not even sweating from the effort. The first kill of the Games belongs to me.

"Careers! Rally to the cornucopia!" I turn and sprint towards the horn, calling out to my allies. "Defend the supplies! Don't let anyone get away with it!"

Jonah Zarate (District 9)
I stumble off my platform as the gong sounds. On either side of me is a Career, Mario and Ash. Both of them go sprinting full speed towards the mouth where, to my shock, I see Corin already rifling through the racks of swords.

How is she so fast? As I'm watching, another tribute arrives behind her, Silve. Corin turns tail and runs as Silve rips a sword off the rack, spinning around in an arc and slashing it across the chest of a boy sneaking up behind him.

Twan falls to the ground, his body thumping against the wooden deck.

Dead. Already a tribute is dead. I feel sick as I'm frozen in place, watching all the chaos unfold. Ash throws himself at Bastien, tackling the boy into a pile of crates as they wrestle for position. Silve, already the killer of Twan, goes swinging at Luigi, who has just claimed a sword for himself. Though Silve is obviously the better swordsman, Luigi is holding his own.

Panic begins to rise in me as I watch my ally fight. I should do something to help him, but fear has me rooted the spot. I knew this was coming, but nothing can compare to actually witnessing the frenetic carnage for yourself.

"Jonah!"

I spin around at the sound of my name. Jayda and Teddy are running towards me from the backside of the cornucopia. Teddy is clutching a backpack close to his chest and Jayda has her hands on what appears to be an axe.

"We need to go!" Jayda sounds out of breath, but doesn't appear wounded in any way.

"We can't! Not without Lilah and Luigi!" I gesture hopelessly at our leader, still embroiled in a sword fight with Silve. I would go help him, but I am certain I'd only get in his way.

"We'll die if we stay here," Jayda says matter-of-factly, brushing past me and hurrying down the walkway. Teddy doggedly follows after her. I curse loudly.

"Sorry, Luigi, but you're going to have to hold out on your own for now..." I turn and sprint after the two District 3 tributes, regret weighing down my every step and the feeling of cowardice seeping through me.

Takeko Zhou (District 10)
My legs take me straight across the wooden ground, sprinting right for the cornucopia and the racks of weapons that are positioned right next to the horn. Along the way I scoop up a knife as I run, but my eyes never leave the katana that lies atop a silvery case.

A few Careers have already arrived, but they are focused on the mouth of the cornucopia, not the backside of it, which is were I come to a stop.

Immediately I stash my knife into my belt, grabbing the katana and giving it an experimental swing. It feels perfect. Weighed just right, with the proper amount of balance. I should do just fine with this as my weapon.

"Oh ho, so it's the girl who received a ten!" A loud, abrasive voice sounds through the air as Valencia rounds the cornucopia, her blonde braids swinging in the air. She grins when I turn to point my katana at her. "You wanna fight? Good. I'll show the Gamemakers that they were wrong to score you higher than me!"

This idiot of a girl is focused on the wrong things. Who cares what the Gamemakers think? They could have given me a three and I wouldn't have cared.

"What's wrong?" Valencia asks when she realizes I'm not going to say anything. "Aww. Are you afraid of me? You should be, because I'm about to kill you!"

Why the hell is she giving a monologue? No matter. I will kill her all the same. The only weapon she has is a javelin, something that will not help her in short ranged combat. The girl let's out an indignant huff.

"What's with your silence? Don't you know who you're fighting?"

"I don't give a damn who you are."

"Well, you should! Because I'm Valencia-freaking-Sonar!"

The girl raises her javelin for the strike. I react immediately. Eight Leaves One Blade second form. I rush forward, my blade slicing across horizontally. Valencia grunts, then gasps as a gash opens up across her stomach, her intestines spilling out as she drops to her knees.

"Next time, more fighting, less talking." I place my foot against her shoulder and kick her over. She falls onto her back, where she stares into the sky as her hands attempt to keep her insides within her.

I rush past her, heading for the spoke that I had picked out during our sixty seconds of waiting. As I reach it, someone jumps up from where they were crouching beside the railing.

My blade is only inches away from her neck when I recognize Carey.

"I got some stuff," She says blandly, completely unfazed by the fact I almost killed her. "Ready to go?"

I nod, removing my blade from her neck. What a peculiar person. At least she found me. I would have left without her, had she not done so. An ally is good, but not if it impedes my road to victory. "Let's go."

Cecil Thayer (District 8)
My heart thuds in my chest as, all around me, the air fills with the sound of screams and the smell of blood.

I have yet to take a step off my platform. I don't know what the arena looks like, I don't know where Corin is, and I don't know if she's even still alive. My hearing may be better than most people's, but that doesn't help me when everyone is screaming and shouting at once.

Sudden footsteps pounding against a wooden floor snaps me back into focus. In an instant my hands are up in a defensive posture, ready to deflect a strike and return a hard blow to the throat.

"Cecil! It's me!"

Relief washes over me as I recognize Corin's voice over the din of fighting. "Oh, good. I was waiting for you." Guilt prickles the back of my neck. I have yet to tell Corin that I'm blind, so she probably doesn't understand why the hell I didn't get off my platform like everyone else.

She doesn't question me, however. "Come over here and help me with this bag!"

Following her voice, I step off the platform--careful not to trip--and join her as she crouches beside what feels like a large duffel bag. The floor is definitely wooden. If there were more echoes, I'd think that we were inside. Despite the fact that we are outside, there appears to be no wind whatsoever.

"Why do you want this bag?" I ask.

"It's heavy," Corin answers after a grunt. I place my hands beside hers and help lift the bag. It is, indeed, very heavy. I wonder what's inside?

Corin assists me as we swing the bags strap over my shoulder, then she begins to head off in a new direction--probably towards an exit from the cornucopia. But she doesn't get far. After only a few footfalls, I hear the wood beneath me trembling.

"Corin! Behind you!"

There's a swishing of fabric as Corin turns, then the grating sound of steel striking against steel. Corin must have picked up a weapon during her trip over here--and has just used it to intercept someone else's weapon.

"Cecil! Get that bag out of here!"

Despite her instructions, I hesitate. The sound of steel against steel picks up again, and is much too close for comfort. But I can't run. I can't leave Corin to fight by herself! Also, I have absolutely no idea which way I'm supposed to run.

I back away from the noise, trying to pinpoint something that may help Corin. But it's impossible. There's too many feet pounding against the floor, the clanging of steel too loud, so that even my advanced hearing leaves me discombobulated. I couldn't help Corin even if I tried!

The normal sound of steel against steel changes to something much more sinister. The sound of ripping flesh, followed by a scream of pain.

A hand grips me by the shoulder, then someone is speaking into my ear. "What the hell are you waiting for? Let's go!"

I chase after her fleeing footsteps, weighed down by the heavy bag. "Who was that?" I ask as we run. Then, remembering that I haven't told her I'm blind, I add, "I couldn't place her District."

"It was Harley and Aphrodite," Corin answers flatly. "They thought they could get us if they grouped up." She laughs mirthlessly. "Too bad my sword only cut Harley's leg. Woulda been nice to kill one."

I'm silently stunned. Corin not only defeated two tributes at once, but two careers? What kind of badass did I align myself with? And, more on a more dire note, what will she do when she learns I've been hiding from her?

Mercury Kwildor (District 1)
I reach the cornucopia just as Silve enages Luigi in a sword fight. I sprint for one of the two spear racks inside the cornucopia then, pausing to collect my breath, turn and survey the bloodbath.

Harley and Aphrodite are together as they descend upon a pair of tributes trying to pick up a bag near the platforms. Ash has just arrived, driving his shoulder into the chest of a tall boy and taking them both into a pile of crates. Pompeii is on the outskirts, jogging over with a pair of bloody hands. So. He has already made a kill.

"Careers! Rally to the cornucopia!" He shouts as he begins to sprint over. "Defend the supplies! Don't let anyone get away with it!"

Too late. As he says this, I watch the girl from District 8 scamper away with a backpack and set of knives. She immediately sets off down one of the walkways and disappears from sight.

"Help your allies!" Pompeii has finally reached the mouth of the cornucopia. "No one should be fighting alone!"

He takes up a position near the mouth, close to where Silve and Luigi duel. I take a spear off the rack, watching as Ash and the District 14 boy brawl. I could probably kill the tall boy, but knowing Ash, he wouldn't take kindly to my interference. Instead, I begin to pick up bags and miscellaneous objects, moving them closer to the cornucopia. No one will get these while I guard them.

Also...it gives me something to do whilst battling against the desire to show up Copper. I can't afford to play into his hands. But I desperately want to show my true strength...

Something catches my eye. Mario is on the outskirts, alone, as she makes her way towards a trident. It's buried tips-first in the wooden boards of the deck, it's silvery handle glinting in the weak sunlight.

I know how much Mario wants a trident. I should help her get it.

Just as I come to this decision, so does someone else. Surorian is approaching the trident, his unnaturally violet eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. Mario doesn't see him as she begins to reach for the trident...

"Mario! Look out!" I let out a warning, running as hard as I can. Mario looks up just in time to receive a kick in the face. The tiny girl goes skidding across the deck, hurt, but very much alive.

Surorian turns to me, a bored look on his face. "You ruined my kill."

"I protected a fellow Career," I reply, adopting the defensive stance I've learnt from my time in the academy. My spears point is facing up, towards Suorians's throat. He has a sword, so he'll need to try and break my defense to do any damage.

"Career honor, right?" The tall boy let's out a wicked laugh. "Well, who am I to fault you? If you'd rather die in place of that little girl, then so be it!"

He strikes like a snake. His sword smashes into the side of my spear, the force of the blow so strong that the weapon vibrates in my hands. I pull the spear closer, trying to reposition, when I notice that Surorian has moved inside my defense.

His face contorts into a snarl. "This is child's play!"

His dagger, which I had failed to notice, glints in the light as he plunges it into my throat.

Mario Firth (District 4)
I sit on my hands and knees, shaking my head as I try to clear it of the black lines that pulsate across my vision. That kick...

I'm lucky to still be conscious, after a blow like that. And what's worse is that it was avoidable. If I hadn't been so caught up in trying to claim that trident, I'd have seen Surorian coming. I could have--

Surorian!

All of a sudden I snap back into my senses. I pull myself up, ignoring the pain that throbs in my skull. The screams and shouts of the bloodbath have hardly died down, but I think that several tributes have certainly fled by now.

I cast my gaze around, searching for Surorian.

And find him as he slams a dagger into Mercury's throat.

"No!" The shout is involuntary as the boy who, for a short time, was a friend, drops to his knees, gagging on the thick blood that streams out of the wound. Surorian grins as he turns and flees, his feet pounding against the wooden floor in rhythm with the blood squirting from Mercury.

Dammit! I knew that Mercury had to die, but to have it happen like this, because he was trying to save me, that hurts.

I stumble over to his body, ignoring the battles raging on around me. The ground beside him is stained as red as his hair. "I'm sorry," I say to his body, bending down to collect a knife that lay beside him. "But you showed your true strength today."

I turn back to the cornucopia. Silve's sword battle has ended, but without a victor. Silve stands stoically in the middle of the deck as he watches Luigi flee down a spoke. Pompeii is beside him, barking out orders. And--

"We need water, Topher. Look for water!"

The sound of voices has me turn in time to see two tributes, both male, as they rummage through the pile of supplies that Mercury had gathered. One of them, tall boy with cerulean hair, I recognize as Nicholas from District 5.

My hands clench as I watch him pocket a knife. Those supplies belong to us. They're ours. I'm not about to let a pair of hare-brained Fools steal from me!

I stalk over and wind up my knife to throw. I've made throws like this in my sleep before, this will be easy.

The boy, the one Nicholas called Topher, notices me just as I begin to unwind. "Great golly gumdrops!"

He ducks in the nick of time. My knife goes whizzing through the air where, just seconds ago, his head was positioned. Now, instead of striking him dead, it sails harmlessly over him.

And hits Nicholas right in the face.

Topher's eyes bulge in horror as he notices his friend begin to fall, dead before he even hits the ground. Then, before I can attack him too, he turns and flees perpendicularly across the platform.

I watch him run. He didn't take anything with him, so I don't care. Our supplies were protected.

Alpha Quells (District 11)
I roam across the outskirts of the bloodbath, my eyes flickering across the chaos in search of my allies, and, much more importantly, Omega. There! I spot her as she follows after Lavender, her tiny arms wrapped around herself defensively. Lavender is moving from item to item, occasionally picking something up.

I consider running straight to my sister and fleeing the bloodbath together, but quickly discard the thought. If we are to win, we'll need the supplies. Besides, Armado is with them. He stands just ahead of the pair, eyes glued to the cornucopia as he holds a spear tightly in his hands.

Omega will be fine. I just need to concentrate on getting supplies.

Changing my route, I charge towards the cornucopia. Along the way I spot Ash shakily rising from a pile of crates. His pallid face is covered in bruises, and his lip is cut and bleeding profusely. He was in a fight, obviously. I wonder if he won. If he did, I'd hate to see the other guy.

As I pass him, I veer off course and slam a shoulder into him. The blond boy hits the ground hard, his head bouncing off a crate as he does. I snatch up a nearby axe and continue on.

The mouth of the cornucopia. That's where all the best items are, so that's where I'll be.

Several tributes linger around the mouth, all Careers. Silve is standing a little ways away, staring at the giant boy from District 10 as he picks at small items on the outskirts. Mario is helping Harley organize a pile of items, and I think I see Zamara sitting inside the cornucopia, emptying bags into one large backpack. Then there's Pompeii. He's the closest to the mouth, and he's watching me with narrowed eyes as I sprint right towards him.

With a scream of fury, I swing my axe for his head.

He nimbly dodges to the side and my strike misses. I stumble forward, my momentum leaving me unbalanced, as Pompeii aims a thrust for my back.

I feel the steel whistle through the air as the blade narrowly misses skewering my spine.

I turn and throw myself into another attack, my mind blank to any and all strategy. I'm so pumped full with adrenaline that the only thing I can focus on is attack, attack, attack.

Pompeii tries to block my axe with his sword, but my two-handed swing is too much for even his grip. The sword goes flying across the clearing as he curses loudly. "You're good," He says, not sounding too worried. A smug smile flickers on his lips. "This'll be fun. I love a good challenge."

"Shut up!"

I swing my axe in a downward strike, aiming for the soft flesh between shoulder and neck. Pompeii raises a hand to the steel blade, a lazy smile on his face.

He catches the sharpened edge with his bare hand.

"You see," He says, ripping the axe out of my hands as I'm frozen with shock. "Having metal hands can actually be very useful."

His left hand lands a jab into my stomach and I bend over, grunting with pain. Pompeii backhands me and I fall to the ground, vision flashing red and black. Something flares with pain in the back of my mouth, and I taste the coppery tinge of blood.

Pompeii grips me by the collar and hauls me to my feet, slamming me against the cornucopia. "You were a worthy opponent," He says without even the hint of sarcasm. "But I'll be glad when you're dead. You were just too much of a threat."

He raises a fist, the metal gleaming eerily in the faint light. Then he he slams it towards my skull.

I throw myself forward, feeling the collar of my jacket rip as its torn in Pompeii's grip. A second later, Pompeii's hand slams into the side of the cornucopia. There's a horrific crunching sound as his hand smashes through it, metal grating against metal. Pompeii growls in anger as he tries to pull his hand free to no avail. He's stuck.

This time it's my turn to smile.

I pick up my fallen axe, conscious of his gaze on me. "Hope you have a third hand lying around." With a grunt, I lift my axe into the air.

And bring it down onto Pompeii's forearm.

He screams as the axe cleaves through flesh and bone, severing his arm at the elbow. Blood spurts from the gaping hole as he pulls away from me, screaming wildly. Some of the crimson spray hits my face as I lean down and pick up a backpack, slinging it over my shoulder.

Already others have taken notice of Pompeii's screaming. Silve is watching with wide eyes, and Aphrodite is rushing over, a bag marked with a medicinal cross close in hand. Time to go.

I run full throttle towards the spot I last saw my allies. They're still there, gaping at me with stunned expressions as I stop to collect my breath.

"You're covered in blood..." Lavender says.

"It's fine. None of its mine." I clip my axe onto my belt, then scoop Omega into my arms. She clings to me meekly, a few tears running down her face. "We have to go. Now."

I lead the way down the platform, running as fast as I can with Omega in my arms. Lavender and Armado follow just behind me, I can hear their feet stomping against the wooden boards.

We survived the bloodbath. It might not be much, but it's the first phase of my plan complete. Now I just need to think of what the other phases are.

Emma Brynne (District 9)
Elia and I slink around on the edge of the bloodbath, trying our best not to draw any unwanted attention. Despite my best efforts, I have yet to see any of our other allies. I've kept a particular eye out for Bastien, yet so far I've seen nothing.

"Where are they?" I ask Elia as she kneels beside a crate, flipping the lid off and rummaging through it.

"Don't know." Her concentration is focused soley on her supply gathering. Not that I can blame her. A decent amount of time has passed since the Games initially began, and we've gone almost completely unnoticed as we scavenge on the backside of the cornucopia. The only encounter we've had was when the District 10 girl ran past us.

I try not to look at the bloodied body she left in her wake.

My palms begin to sweat as I keep a lookout for danger. The tube of medicine is slick in my hands. It's the only thing I've grabbed, though I know that is a mistake. I should've grabbed more, but I've been focused on searching for my allies.

"Hold this." Elia passes me a small satchel, which I accept without question. She continues to search through the crate as I look up and nearly get a heart attack. Topher is standing right in front of us.

"So quickly! Couldn't help!" He's speaking so fast that I can hardly understand him. But the horrified look on his face is unmistakable. Something has happened. Something very bad.

Elia halts her search through the crate. "What happened?" She demands, looking back and forth between Topher and the cornucopia. No one is in sight, but I can still hear someone screaming in pain.

"Nicholas!" Tears are in Topher's eyes as he slumps to his knees. "I merely ducked my cranium, then he..." He trails off, but he doesn't need to say anymore. The implication is clear.

Nicholas is dead.

Cold sorrow fills my veins. I hardly knew the boy, but for him to be dead...Why does everyone I care for die? It's not fair!

"Emma! Elia!"

We all turn as Bastien comes limping around the cornucopia, one hand held gingerly to his chest. His face is covered in purple bruises. "Oh, Bastien! What happened?"

I rush forward to help him at the same time Elia let's out a gleeful shout. "An axe!" She runs towards the cornucopia, where an axe is lying beside the corner. She scoops it up and begins to turn back to us, but suddenly freezes.

A peculiar expression crosses her face. Then she falls face forward into the ground, dead.

I scream.

Nylah tucks her bloody knife into her belt, scooping up Elia's fallen axe and sprinting away, past us and down the spoke. Without thinking I move to go after her, but arms grab me from behind. "It's not worth it," Bastien whispers in my ear. He sounds shaken. "She'd just kill you too."

I open my mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a strangled sob. Elia. Dead. Why does everyone die because of me? Nadine, Cadence, and now Elia. Why can't I help anyone? Why does my very presence radiate death and misery?

Bastien is dragging me along towards the edge of the platform that leads into what looks like some kind of rocky area. Nylah ran a different way. We're dead. That's all I can think of as we move along, Topher stumbling after us. All of us will be dead.

Everyone close to me dies. That's just the way it is.

Avan Falco (District 10)
I hear the screaming of Pompeii as I pick up backpacks on the outskirts of the cornucopia, slinging each one over my shoulder. The Careers are all gathered around him in a big gtoup, not far from the cornucopia. I can't see anyone else.

Has the bloodbath ended? Am I the only non-Career who has yet to flee? That would be surprising, but it's not like I was paying any attention to what the other tributes were doing. Since the gong rang, the only thing I've concentrated on was claiming as much items as possible.

Now's the time to go. When everyone else is occupied, they'll never spot me slinking away.

As it turns out, I'm not the only one who thinks this.

Zamara darts out from the mouth of the cornucopia, a backpack that is absolutely bulging with items carried on her back. She runs halfway to the nearest spoke, then stops, turning to face the Careers, who're still absorbed in Pompeii's wounds.

She takes aim with a golden bow, knocking an arrow to the string. Is she going to shoot the Careers? No. For some reason, she lets the bow go slack, muttering to herself as she turns to flee.

And runs smack dab into me.

She bounces off my chest, then, recovering quickly, once again puts an arrow to her bow. The dark-skinned girl stares daggers at me. "Do you support the Capitol?"

In response, I punch her in the face.

She falls with a yelp, her nose streaming with blood as it breaks under my fist. Immediately she goes scrabbling for her dropped bow, not even momentarily halted by the pain. It's become increasingly obvious that I have to kill her. I don't want to, but I don't have any particular qualms about not doing it, either.

I bend down to snap her neck when she grabs an arrow from her quiver and slashes it across my hands.

Pain swells in me as a large, bloody gash opens up along my left palm. Gritting my teeth in an effort to hold in a scream of pain, I suddenly no longer have any doubts about it. This girl will die.

"I gave you a chance!" She spits a bloody spittle as she speaks, slowly climbing back onto her feet. She sways, a little unsteady. "But you have shown your true colors. No more--"

Once again I punch her in the face, but this time I grab her by the shoulders before she falls. Squirming in my grasp, she attempts to stab me with the arrow, but I swat it out of her hands as I haul her towards the platforms edge.

She howls and kicks, actually hitting me in the shin. Just as I'm about to lose my grip, I heave her over the side of the railing.

She screams as she twists through the air, then suddenly splashes down into the depths of the murky brown water. I hold my left hand close, nursing the wound as I wait for her to resurface. She doesn't.

"Good riddance," I grimace as I pick up her bow, ripping the string off and tossing it back towards the cornucopia. The Careers haven't noticed me yet. Time to leave while I still can.

I collect a sickle from the edge of the bloodbath before I take off sprinting down one of the four spokes. The bloodbath has finally come to an end, but that means that the Games are just beginning.

Silve Wisp (District 2)
The bloodbath is over. There's no official proclamation or anything like that, but it's readily apparent that the fighting and killing is over--for now.

Pompeii is stretched out along the side of the cornucopia, moaning shamelessly as Aphrodite tends to his wounds. His arm, the one that was chopped off unceremoniously by Alpha, is embedded in the cornucopia wall. The fleshy part dangles in the air, still attached to the metal fist.

It's ironic that the thing Pompeii seemed so proud of--the fact that his fists could punch through metal--ended up being his undoing.

"Think he'll live?" I ask Mario as I join her on the outskirts of the platform. She's been picking through the leftover items, sorting them into a small pile for later use.

"Who?" The girl blinks his wide green eyes. "Pompeii? Yeah, I think he will. Aphrodite already has a tourniquet on him." We both glance back to watch as the girl continues her work on our leader. It seems that he'll live. Good. We need the numbers.

I watch as Ash rounds the bend of the cornucopia, dragging another body behind him. He volunteered for the job of collecting and counting the bodies. I don't know why, but I'm glad he did. Corpses, even fresh ones, stink.

"How many?" I ask him as he deposits the body, that of the District 7 girl, next to the others.

He doesn't even look up as he responds. "Six. None of them Anti's."

I swear under my breath. I knew they'd be a threat. Especially now that we've lost two of our own. Valencia and Mercury both fell at the bloodbath, slain by superior warriors. Valencia was a strong ally--I'll miss her. Not Mercury, though. That damn fool was always complaining about people being prejudiced against him or something. It got annoying fast.

As Ash goes off to search for more bodies, I approach our weapon stash. I feel partially responsible for our low kill count. I got Twan early on, but then I got sidetracked dueling Luigi. He's the Anti's leader, and probably our biggest threat. I thought that if I could take him out, we'd be in a good position.

Unfortunately, the boy managed to weasel his way out of the battle. He fled when I got distracted by Mario's angered scream.

At the cornucopia, I tuck a few knives into my belt, then, for good measure, stick a dagger into my boot too. You can never have too many weapons.

I'm soon joined by Aphrodite. Her face is worn with exhaustion, and her hair is a disheveled mess. She slumps down onto a crate, breathing in deeply.

"Will Pompeii live?" I ask quietly.

She nods slowly. "I think so. I'm not a medical expert or anything, but he seems fine. He's sleeping right now, hopped up on painkillers."

I nod, looking at my district partner, Harley, as she hobbles over. Her lower left calf is scarred and bloody, a wound received from the blade of the district 5 girl's sword. "You okay?" I ask her.

"Fine. I'm fine." She sounds exhausted as she sits down next to Aphrodite. The two girls sit quietly as I try and contemplate our next move. With Pompeii wounded, we won't be hunting at all today. That's fine, I suppose. We already have killed more than enough tributes for now. A few hours of rest would do as well.

I lean my head back and close my eyes. The Games have just begun, after all. There'll be plenty of time for killing later.

Cecil Thayer (District 8)
I hurry through the woods, following the heavy footfalls of Corin as she leads to the way through what I believe to be a forest. Though I cannot see anything, I can hear the calls of birds, the chittering of squirrels, and the crunching of leaves under my feet.

I also feel the branches that snag on my clothes and reach at my face.

"This place..." Corin comes to a halt, her breathing fast and shallow. "What the hell is it?"

That takes me by surprise. Is there something I'm not seeing? "Seems normal enough to me," I say casually. A cool breeze blows against my face as I say this, proving that there is some sort of wind in this arena after all.

"It does?" Corin's voice is filled with incredulity as I feel her turn to face me. "You have many green skies in District 8? Or maybe your grass is teal?"

"What!" I whip my head around, searching back and forth even though I know that I cannot see any of what she just described. The sky is...green? I haven't been blind my entire life, and I remember a time when I could see the sky. Imagining it as green...that just feels wrong.

"Cecil...how did you not notice this earlier?" Corin's voice is laced with suspicion. Suspicion is bad. I feel myself begin to sweat as I try and think up an explanation that will get me out of this. "Well? Cecil?"

"I..." What can I say? There's no lie I can give that would explain this. Feeling sick to my stomach, I realize I have no choice but to tell the truth. "Corin...I'm blind."

"What?" This time it's Corin's turn to be shocked. I can't see her face, but I can sense the waves of disbelief coming off her. "How...when? At the bloodbath? Who did it?"

"No. No, this didn't happen during the Games." My insides are twisting up like knots. Of course she thought it happened during the bloodbath. Why would she think any different? It's not like I gave her any reason to.

"Then when? Training?" Corin is in sheer bewilderment. I wouldn't be surprised if she called me out for being a liar soon.

"No. Not training." Why is it so hard to admit? Probably because I'll be admitting to lying to her for the entire time we knew each other.

"Then when?"

"Years ago. Back when I was a child."

Silence.

"You mean to tell me," Corin finally says, her voice flat and emotionless, "that you've been blind this entire time?"

"Yes."

Once again there's a long silence. I can hear the bushes rustling in the wind and the chirping of some nearby animals. I shift from foot to foot, intensely uncomfortable. How will she react?

"When were you planning on telling me?" She asks.

I'm confused by the question. "Just now. I just told you..."

"No. No, you didn't want to tell me, you were forced to. If I hadn't pointed out the oddly colored forest, would you have ever told me?" I can feel her gaze on me. Angry and suspicious. She feels like I betrayed her, and honestly, I cannot fault her for that.

"I...yes. I would have, eventually." To my own ears I sound so stupid. I'm fully expecting Corin to turn her sword on me, to cut me down. I would try and resist, of course. I won't accept death, even a deserved one. But I know that I'd have no hope of beating her.

"You ruined me," Her voice is so soft and quiet. "My whole strategy for these Games relied on having a competent ally. And now..." She trails off, but I find myself suddenly angry. Competent? I'm more than competent! Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I'm not useful!

"My skills weren't a lie," I tell her coldly. "I didn't fake that. Being blind doesn't make me a liability."

"It's called a disability for a reason," Corin says flatly. But the moment has passed. I no longer think that she will kill me in a fit of rage. In fact, I don't think that she'll even abandon me. "Come on," Her feet crunch against twigs as she begins to walk away. "The other tributes are probably running around like headless chickens. We shouldn't stand around."

We move through the supposedly oddly colored forest in complete silence. Neither of us speaks. And what would we say? I don't know. Corin, for her part, keeps throwing glances back at me. I wonder if she thinks that I'll betray her or something. After a few minutes of walking, I can take it no more.

"Why do you keep staring at me?"

Corin comes to a halt, the surprise evident in her janky movements. "You can tell?"

"Of course. I'm blind, not deaf. I hear your clothes rustle as you turn around."

"Interesting. I'm surprised you're not walking into trees." She says it so matter-of-factly that I'm a little taken back. Most people back home try tip-toeing around my blindness, congratulating me on accomplishing the simplest of things. Not Corin.

"I have had practice," I tell her wryly.

I'm not sure, but I think she smiles. "Maybe you're not useless after all. Still won't win a fight against a skilled combatant, but that can't be helped. I'll find some way to make use of you."

Perhaps that's not the most comforting of things to be told, but it sure beats what I thought would happen. Now I just need to survive the next dozen days, out living all the other tributes in the process.

Luigi Iris (District 13)
My sprinting begins to slow as, all around me, the trees begin to grow closer together. What was once standard pine and oak trees have given way to something else, something more exotic. I don't know the exact word for them, but I have some flashbacks to my school studies--Bamboo, maybe?

I come to a halt, surrounded by these thin, hard trees. Sweat pours down my head and my side aches with runners cramps as my legs tremble with relief. I survived. Somehow, I managed to survive.

I went toe-to-toe with one of the toughest Careers in the Games and--while I didn't exactly "win" the fight--managed to best him in a sword fight. Escaping from his clutches is considered beating him, in my book. Especially since the cornucopia is, for all extents and purposes, Career territory.

I entered the heart of enemy territory and came out alive. I can scarcely believe it.

I wipe a hand across my forehead, the other wrapped tightly around the hilt of my sword. It's the only thing I managed to get from the cornucopia. It's a little unsettling, but it's the hardest thing to naturally come by in the arena. So just having it gives me some comfort.

Not enough, though. My allies--Jonah, Jayda, Teddy, and Lilah--are still out there. Or maybe they're not. I try hard not to think about it, but the thought crosses my mind despite my best efforts. What if they're dead? I didn't see any of them during my time at the cornucopia. For all I know...

No. I can't think like that. They're fine. They have to be. I should just focus on making sure I stay that way.

The bamboo trees around me reach far into the blue sky. I can just barely see the clouds behind them. The ground is relatively flat, but absolutely covered in ferns, shrubbery, and grass so tall that it reaches my thighs. Anything could be hiding in here.

Not a reassuring thought, perhaps, but a true one all the same. I pace forward, mind ill at ease as the grass around me sways in the wind. This place is so eerie, I can almost imagine I can hear footsteps--Wait a minute.

I freeze in place, my previously numb limbs now pulsing with adrenaline. I'm not imagining anything. Those footsteps are real. And it sounds like it's headed my way.

I throw myself to the ground, ducking under the ferns and pulling myself close to a thick clump of bamboo trees. Hoping that I'm adequately hidden from sight, I sit and wait for the tribute to approach.

Within seconds I hear their ragged breathing as they come to a stop not much more than five feet from my hiding place. Through a gap in the bamboo, I can see their boots and bottom of their pants. Which District had the color olive? I can't remember.

I hold my sword close, planning my method of attack. A thrust to the heart would be the quickest way to kill, but it'd leave me vulnerable if there are two tributes. With a thrust, a sword could easily get caught in someone's body, letting the second tribute attack me whilst weaponless. Better to slash. Yes, a slash to the throat is the way to go. Messy, but quick.

Plan formed, I leap out of my hiding place with a shout.

My enemy, a girl with long dark hair, squeals in surprise at my sudden appearance. She trips backwards and lands on her backside as I raise my sword for a quick slash.

Then I stop.

"Lilah?"

"Luigi?"

Lilah Jollenback, District 8. My ally. I turn my shoulders, sending the blade that was meant for Lilah's neck into a nearby bamboo shoot instead. The hard wood cracks, then breaks apart as the sword cleaves through it.

"What--Why are you here?" I stutter in disbelief, shame washing over me as I think about how close I came to killing an ally.

"Could ask you the same thing," Lilah grunts, picking up a pair of knives I didn't know she dropped. "Where are the others?"

"I thought they were with you."

The girl shakes her dark head. "No. I didn't see any of them at the bloodbath."

I don't know what to think of that. It could mean they all escaped. Or it could mean they all died. I decide to stay away from this line of thinking. "Do you think they're in this forest?" I ask Lilah.

She shrugs. "I don't know."

She's an odd girl. I first noticed this back in training, that Lilah's personality swung like a pendulum. Sometimes she might be happy and friendly, other times she's aloof and stoic. It's a toss-up on which Lilah will show up on any given day.

I watch the pale girl as she looks around at the trees, a curious expression across her face. Who is she, really? I don't know anything about her past--I don't really know anything about any of my allies. What kind of people are they? I'd risk everything to help any one of them. Would they do the same for me?

As I'm watching her, Lilah suddenly freezes. Her body goes rigid as she stares at the ground with wide, unblinking eyes. "What's wrong?" I ask, stepping up beside her and trying to follow her gaze. She seems to be staring at a...flower?

It's a long-stemmed plant, or maybe a tree, with leaves splaying outwards near the top. Thick whorls of dark green leaves nestle anong the stalks, and among these leaves are the flowers themselves. This particular type is a lightish purple color. A sweet scent wafts up from it.

"Are you staring at that?" I ask curiously. Lilah is still as a statue, then her lips slowly begin to move and words force themselves out.

"Oleander. Purple oleander."

"Uh, yeah?" Does she not like plants or something? She seems to be absolutely entranced by the oleander, staring at like an alarmed deer would gawk at a hunter.

"How did they know?"

"How did who know what?" I ask, utterly confused by her reaction to a simple plant. "We should get going. Our allies are still out there..."

Lilah seems to snap out of her stupor. She turns to me, eyes blinking rapidly. "You're right. We need to get away from here."

My body has mostly recovered from my fight with Silve and subsequent flight from the cornucopia. My exhaustion has faded, replaced with a burning desire to locate and regroup with the rest of my alliance. Until we're all together, we're not at full strength.

I lead the way deeper into the forest. Lilah follows silently, seemingly glad to be leaving that plant behind. I don't know what her problem is, but I can't really focus on it. I need to keep my mind on my situation, lest my inattention leads to an ealy death.

Bastien Colloway (District 14)
Flat, stone earth surrounds me on all sides. Everywhere I look, right or left, back or forward, I see exactly the same thing. Stone ground stretching as far as the eye can see, completely barren except for the occasional clump of rocks and pools of bubbling water. Overhead, the sun is barely visible through the clouds.

"Do you have a destination in mind?" The voice of Topher causes me to halt my walking, stopping halfway between a disjointed pile of rocks and one of the many ponds. I had forgotten that he was here. I had forgotten everything, except for the endless walking.

I shake my head, gingerly touching a massive bruise on my face, a result of my brawl with Ash. That boy may not be from a Career district, but he sure hits like he's from one. " I turn to address Topher. "How could I? I don't know anything about this arena."

Topher deflates a little. The lanky boy settles himself down on the hard ground and stares at his feet. "I had not expected..." He trails off before finishing, but I think I understand.

Even though we all knew what was going to happen once the Games began, none of us were actually prepared for it. I hadn't known how to react, when I learned that Nicholas was dead. Killed in a freak accident. He wasn't even anyone's target. Still, he's dead.

Just like Elia.

My stomach twists painfully as Emma trudges up beside us. Tears still slide own her face as she mourns the loss of her friend. I wasn't as close to Nicholas as Topher was, or attached to Elia like Emma, but I still feel the pain of their loss. Both of them dead just because some people in the Capitol thought killing was entertaining. How could Alex ever have supported those people?

Emma sits down next to Topher, arms wrapped around her knees. My stomach twists again. Emma manages to look beautiful even when she's a crying mess. "What now?" She asks, looking up at me with watery blue eyes. "How can we go on?"

"By remembering them. By trying to live in the way they wanted us to. By fighting to..." I can't finish my spiel. I'm no hero. No charismatic speech-giver who can rile people up with words alone. I'm a fool who can never take anything seriously. Isn't that what everyone always told me?

I wonder how some people continue to fight, when they've lost so much. I was lucky, for mist of my life I never lost anything important to me. Then Alex and Holly disappeared and I--

I shake my head, a smile forming on my face. There's nothing funny. Nothing happy. But I force myself to smile all the same.

"How can you smile at a time like this?" Emma asks through her tears.

"Because they can't take it away from me. They want you to think that there's no joy, no happiness. But they're wrong. No one can take your smile. Your laughter. When you have nothing left, you still have those."

Emma--and even Topher--stare at me like I'm insane. I smile wider, hoping to get them to join me. I smile for the cameras, letting everyone know that this game hasn't broken me. ''Come on, Emma. Show them that it hasn't broken you either...''

Emma looks down at her feet.

I sigh, the smile slipping off my face. Before I can do anything else, Topher gets to his feet. "Do we have any food?" He asks in a low voice, sounding more despondent then I ever heard him.

I shake my head. Ash prevented me from taking anything from the cornucopia. Emma nods slowly, reaching behind her and pulling out a small tan satchel. "Elia gave me this...I don't know what's inside..."

"That's good," I say, trying to keep some optimism alive. "Let's see what we got."

The answer is nothing much. Inside the satchel we find only a small packet of crackers and some wrapped beef jerky. Emma also has a small container of funny smelling cream that Topher claims is used for burns. I lose some of my forced joy at the sight of meager supplies. No water. No weapons. Hardly any food.

How will we survive?

"Perchance those pools hold drinkable water?" Topher suddenly speaks, jerking a thumb at the closest pond.

I shrug. "Only one way to find out."

I stand up, scrabbling over to the nearest pool. Pebbles scattered by my feet shoot along the rocky ground, a few sliding over the edge of the pool and disappearing into the bubbling water with a Plink!.

Topher and Emma follow me more slowly. Emma stares at the water with a doubtful frown. "It doesn't look very drinkable."

I hate it, but she's right. The water inside is constantly churning, a heavy white froth splashing is around the edge and thick bubbles cluster at the center. It's odd, but it kinda reminds me of a bathtub.

"I don't think we should try drinking that," I say with a shake of my head. Why the hell did the Gamemakers fill an entire area with these pools?

"Are you quite certain?" Topher crouches beside the pool, staring at the liqui inside with intense curiosity. "It does indeed appear to be a hot spring, but if we could get some of the water out, perhaps we could--" Topher dips his hand into the water. Immediately he jerks it back out, screaming in pain as he recoils from the pool.

His body lands against the stones, rolling away from the water as he howls at the top of his voice. He clutches his hand close to his chest, and I can see that it is a harsh red color. "Oh, that stings like the Dickens!"

Emma gasps in shock, dropping down beside the boy and checking to see if he is okay. I slowly come to a realization. The water is hot. Not just hot, but boiling hot. Hot enough to scald someone who had just barely touched the water.

The springs aren't just un-drinkable, they're a health hazard as well.

"Give me your hand!" With trembling arms, Emma pulls her satchel open. That's when I realize that she's not just checking on Topher--she's helping him. The burn cream she retrieved from the bloodbath will heal burns received from water just as well as they'll heal ones from fire.

Topher lies still as Emma applies the cream with shaky hands. His hand, which just moments before was red and patchy, slowly begins to heal. The Capitol's technology is at it again. I almost wonder how this world has any conflicts with medicines like that.

"Oh my goody-gosh goodness!" Topher sits up straight, examining his newly healed hand. "I never thought that I'd see a burn heal so quickly!"

His eyes burn with intense curiosity as he takes the tube of cream from Emma's hand, studying its contents with an inquisitive gaze. I smile to myself. Even here, Topher still finds it in him to be passionate about what he cares for. They couldn't take that away from him. They never will.

"We were lucky we had this," Emma whispers quietly.

"Yeah, we were." Emma thinks too negatively. She thinks about the situation as being bad--without our luck, Topher would still be wounded. I think about it as being good--luck bailed us out, so we should be thankful for it. She worries about what would happen without luck. I'm just glad we have luck.

I can to change her viewpoint. I just need to think of how.

"Well now, that was quite an interesting ordeal," Topher sticks the container back into the satchel as he stands up. "But that does not give us water. Our throats will remain parched for the time being."

I nod. "But I doubt we'll find any here. We should--"

Boom! A cannon shot interrupts me. Emma looks to the sky as a second cannon comes, followed by a third and a fourth; all the way to six. All of the good vibes I had managed to bring back are wiped away in an instant.

"The bloodbath deaths," Emma says quietly. "Two of those were for Nicholas and Elia."

Topher nods, his body posture sagging. "Dead because I ducked..."

"We couldn't have stopped their deaths," I need to try and stop this depression. Sadness unconstrained is a disease. It'll sap away your will to live. "But we can make sure theirs meant something."

"It was your District partner who killed Elia," Emma turns to me, her voice cracking with emotion. "Maybe if you had been friendlier to her, she wouldn't have wanted to kill us!"

I shake my head. "No. Nylah isn't like you and me. She's...different. She doesn't need or want contact with people. No matter how nice I was to her, she'd have still done it. Nylah will kill whoever she has to, in order to win." She'll even kill me, I add silently.

Emma nods, fresh tears pouring down her face. "I-I'm sorry, Bastien. I...shouldn't have blamed you."

"It's okay. You were just lashing out. It's normal to feel the need to blame someone." Like how Holly felt after Alex's death. How I felt after hers.

Emma nods once more, then steps forward to hug me. I hug her back, feeling oddly melancholy. I don't want to die. I don't want Emma to die. But how can I prevent both?

Topher steps forward, wrapping his own arms around the both of us. "Group hugs make everything better," He says with a sagely nod.

I laugh and instantly he joins me. A few seconds later, Emma offers her own small laughter to the air. People have died. People we have cared for, both in and out of the arena. But we won't stop laughing. We won't lie down and give up. Because the moment you do, the moment you surrender, they win. I won't allow that.

I'll die with a smile on my face.

Jayda Idylwyld (District 3)
Hours have passed since the bloodbath ended, but that hasn't stopped my allies from worrying.

"We abandoned them," Jonah is saying, pacing back and forth. Behind him, the tight cluster of bamboo trees reach high into the sky. Though it is still just afternoon, the forest around us is dark. "We left them by themselves. If they died...it would be all our fault."

"Calm down, Jonah." I snap at the boy, unable to hold back my rising irritation. He's been like this ever since we fled the cornucopia. I don't know what is with him and his purported sense of honor. We didn't "abandon" anyone. We escaped when it was most logical. That is all.

"How can I be calm when Luigi and Lilah could be dead?" He stops his pacing and fixes me with a solid gaze. His blue eyes shine with resilience.

"What do you suppose we do?" I ask. "Go searching the entire arena for them?"

He nods his head vigorously. "Yes!"

"Well, that might have been an option...had a certain someone actually bothered to grab any supplies."

Jonah's face turns a bright red. Unlike Teddy and I, he hadn't picked anything from the cornucopia. As it stands, our supply situation isn't as good as I'd like. All we have in the way of food is what was inside Teddy's backpack; a canister of soup and some hard bread.

We also have some iodine, which may very well come in handy if we are to ever find a natural water source. Teddy also has a roll of bandages and some shurikens, which alongside my axe, consist of our entire weaponry deposit.

I glance sideways at Teddy. He's sitting on the ground next to me, tracing a line in the dirt with a stick. He hasn't left my side since the Games began. I'm beginning to think that he sees me as a surrogate sister, someone who will protect and watch over him. He's not wrong. I will defend him as long as it is logically useful.

But unlike his actual sister, the girl who had been a prisoner with me inside that rebel prison in District 3, I will not defend him with my life. I cannot afford to. I need to live, I need to get back to the outside world. Panem is in a state of flux right now, change is guaranteed. A family like mine, like the Idylwyld's, can be a driving force for that change. If the rebel side of the family, people like my mother and father--or even myself--get positions of power, then the change may very well be for the good.

If the rest of the Idylwyld's get that power, however, then...Well, Panem may find itself even worse off than it is now.

I think back to my training session. What I did there might have helped my cause--or it may have destroyed it. No matter which, at least my family will know why exactly I'm in these Games. Personally, I have a feeling that some Idylwyld's might have been behind it.

"So what are we going to do?" Jonah has gone back to his pacing. I'm pretty sure he's soon going to wear a path into the forest floor. "We can't just sit here."

"Why not?" Teddy surprises me by speaking up. He still stares at the ground, avoiding any eye contact, but his voice is loud and confident. "It's safe here. Why should we go wandering around?"

"It won't be safe forever," Jonah responds. "If we linger in one place for too long the Gamemakers will make certain we move, if other tributes don't." Or would they? Nobody else in the arena knows this-- even I didn't know until my private training session!--but one of the Gamemakers is Edgar Idylwyld. My father.

I don't know if he will try and play things to my favor. I don't know if he even has enough sway with the other Gamemakers to do so. But I do know how he thinks, and that might just be enough of an advantage to stay ahead of any Gamemaker traps, regardless of whether or not he will assist me.

"We certainly cannot afford to stay here permanently," I say suddenly, interrupting Jonah as he is about to go on another spiel. "There's not enough shelter, for one thing. And we're safe at the moment mostly because everyone else is still recovering from the bloodbath. Once enough time has passed, they will start hunting again."

Jonah nods along with my words. "Yeah, and we should try and find Luigi and Lilah before the Careers find them!"

"And, pray tell, how do you suppose we find them?" I do not wish to move on without Luigi or Lilah. Far from it. The two of them are strong allies and I wish to have as many people possible on my side on the days to come. Yet I know that blindly wandering the arena in search of them is far from a sound strategy.

As Jonah stares silently at his feet, I come to a decision. "Very well," I say, standing up and helping Teddy to his feet. "We shall move out. However, we will not do so aimlessly. We'll head back towards the cornucopia, but do so at an angle. Hopefully that will bring us to the edge of the basin, near the swamp that rests under the cornucopia platform. From there maybe we can figure out what the rest of the arena looks like."

Jonah nods eagerly. He just glad to be moving, apparently. Teddy is more subdued, but he doesn't protest. I feel like he'd accept any decision, so long as I'm the one who makes it. That is simultaneously encouraging and terrifying. I don't want to be responsible for his death. Not like...

I shake my head. No. No time to think such things. We have a task ahead of us. I lead the way forward, hoping that we run into Luigi on the way. The sooner he's back, the sooner I will no longer have to be the leader.

I just hope that he's still alive.

Lavender Morton (District 6)
Everything is...wrong.

The soft grass beneath my feet, which in any other location would be green, is a deep teal color. The sky, a constant sight in life that has been imprinted in my mind as ever being blue, is a lush green.

"This is still so...disorienting," I cannot help but stop and stare at my surroundings. It doesn't matter that I've been here for several hours now. The fact that the sky--the sky!--is green isn't something that you can just dismiss out of hand.

Alpha pushes his way past me. "Stop gawking. Someone is going to kill you."

I stare at his back as he cuts a path through the thick vines that litter the path before us. Well, path is too strong a word. There are no paths in this forest. The trees, a mixture of flowering oak trees with branches that proudly display a multitude of colorful branches, and another type, a thin, tall tree that has smooth, slightly zagging branches that hold host to a brilliant bluish-purple coloured flowers, grow too close together for there to really be a path.

And then there are the vines. They're everywhere. On the trees, on the shrubbery, even growing along the ground. Thick, smooth, muscular vines choke and clog the pathways between trees.

This forest is hard to navigate, but it is oh so beautiful.

"This is amazing," I breathe as Armado comes walking past, Omega trailing behind him. "This place...it's unbelievable."

Armado stops, pausing to look around at the trees that surround us. "They're rather pretty, I guess," He says with a non-chalant air. "But, more importantly, they'll provide decent cover. Especially for us." He taps his jacket, which is a deep purple color. Being from District 6, my jacket is the same.

"Is that all you can think about?" I ask, ahead of us, as Alpha stops hacking some vines to wipe away sweat. "Strategy and survival?"

"That's kinda the most important thing," He responds with a shrug. I purse my lips, fully aware that he's correct. Of course survival is the most important thing; one could say that it's the only important thing. But I want from find time for the little things in life, especially now that mine may be...shorter than anticipated.

"There's a small clearing up ahead," Alpha announces, swinging the axe one last time. There's a loud thunk as it slices through sime vines and smacks into the ground. "We can rest there."

I was certainly taken back when Alpha told us how he fought with and eventually defeated Pompeii. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised, but I didn't expect him to be able to take on the Career leader all by himself. Alpha just might be the strongest tribute in the arena--which increases my chances of survival immensely.

Alpha walks into the clearing, the rest of us following more slowly. It's not really much of a clearing. The trees are only a little further apart, and there's not much open area except for a small patch of grass in the center. But it's wider than most of the forest, and there's a heavy log laying on one side, and a small pond on the other.

"The water is...purple."

My awed comment says it all. The water in the pond is purple. At first, I thought that it wasn't even water. But a closer look shows that's exactly what the liquid is. Purple water. Why?

Alpha bends down, gathering some of the purple liquid in his cupped hands. I hold an arm out. "Alpha, I don't think you should--"

He brings the water to his lips and drinks it in one gulp. Wiping his forehead, he turns to me. "It's not poisonous," He says simply, then walks away. I don't know what to think of that.

Armado appears at my side. "Look at that," he says, pointing up at the thick foliage of a tree. At first I don't see anything out of the ordinary--just flowers and leaves--but then I see it. A black mirror reflects my distorted image back at me as I stare, tiny black eyes watching me like a thousand crawling insects. A camera.

"Feels weird knowing that they're watching us," I say, rolling my shoulders. A feel a pinprick like sensation on my neck, suddenly very self-conscious.

"I don't care what those bastards think about us," Armada grunts. I smile. That was a very Armado-like thing to say.

"Sunlight is fading," Alpha's voice carries over from where he's crouched beside the log. He's right. In the sky, the strange green color has begun to distort. If it wasn't for Alpha's comment, I'd have wondered what was causing it. But now I know that it's just the setting sun.

No one says anything else as Omega sits beside her brother, tucking her legs beneath her and staring blankly into the distance. I'm worried about her mental health. The Hunger Games put a huge amount of stress on everybody--but I can only imagine how it must be affecting a twelve year-old.

"At least she has family," Armado says softly. I nearly jump in surprise. I had forgotten he was right beside me.

"We have family too," I say, thinking of my grandmother back home. "And they're probably watching us right now." I hope. Is my grandmother even still alive? There's so much chaos in the world...

Armado shrugs. "Might be. I can't remember them, though, so it doesn't really do much for me."

"Oh, Armado!" I had nearly forgotten about his amnesia. It's strange to think that I first met him not all that long ago--back in a bomb shelter in District 6. It feels like I've known him for so much longer than that. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"It's alright," He shrugs again, as if it didn't matter at all to him. "I don't think my parents and I were very close."

"Have you gained any memories back?"

"No. But, well, I...never mind." His face flushes red, and I get the sense that he's embarrassed. Armado, embarrassed? It sounds silly. He's not the kind of guy I'd expect that to happen to.

We both fall silent. For some reason, I think about asking him for details on whatever he was going to say. I don't. If he wants to talk about it, he'll bring it up himself. A few minutes pass, with the four of us just sitting silently. Omega and Alpha by the pond and Armado and I near the bushes.

"You know," Armado begins quietly. "You're one of the few things I actually have any memories of."

I open my mouth to respond, but then shut it again. What does one say to such a thing? You naturally hold memories of things important to you, so does that mean I'm important to Armado? And if I am--

"Morina is another person I have memories of," Armado continues on and derails my train of thought. "No matter how much I want to, I can't forget about her. Her betrayal is always in my mind, lurking. If anything bad happens to us--and it will--I know that she to blame for it. How could I just ignore that?"

"It's never good to dwell so much on revenge," I say softly, bad memories floating to the surface of my mind. "It'll just destroy you."

"That's just the thing. I'm already destined for destruction, so what harm can my thoughts do?"

"You might be able to die at peace," A low voice growls from behind us. My body spasms in surprise as Armado whips around to glare at Alpha. The large boy is lounging beside the pond staring at us with bored eyes. Was he listening the whole time? I feel myself blushing, though I don't know why.

"Are you going to die in peace?" Armado challenges.

Alpha barks with laughter. "I don't plan on dying. Period." Beside him, Omega squirms uncomfortably. The little girl is always so quiet. What goes on inside her head? What does she think of our situation? Why do I care?

"Everyone dies eventually," Armado says, sounding uncharacteristically wistful. "In the end, we all go to the same place. All that matters is the path we take to get there."

"Some paths are shorter than others." With that, Alpha turns his back on us, staring out into the unnaturally colored forest. I shift my body around, unable to get those words out of my head. Some paths are shorter than others. Will my path end here, in the Games? Or will my story go on? And if it does, what will I find waiting for me back home?

There are no answers. I know that, at least, to be the truth.

Takeko Zhou (District 10)
The forest was a place from a nightmare, or perhaps, someone's twisted imagination. The trees grew high into the sky, high enough to block out the sky and any starlight that must be present. Thick vines grow heavily on the trees and underbrush, grabbing and clawing at my clothes and skin as I push through them. Few trees have any leaves. Most have just bare branches, the dark gray bark stark and empty as they hang in the air above us.

Neither Carey nor I say anything as we come to a halt. I stare at my surroundings with a wary gaze; my ally just stares into the distance with a blank and disinterested look. "Seems like this would be a good place to rest," I say, dropping myself onto the ground. The forest floor was damp and stagnant with the odor of decomposing wood, but it was the only place for one to rest comfortably.

Carey shrugs. "If you say so."

Such an odd girl. Honestly, I would have left the bloodbath without her had she not been the one to find me. I'm actually surprised she bother to find me. I didn't think that she cared much for this alliance. Yet she ensured that we left the cornucopia together. That means she must care, to some extent.

I hold my katana close as I rest on the ground. It, and the knife I have tucked in my belt, are my only possessions. They were the only things I grabbed at the cornucopia. I don't regret that decision. Food and water can be found naturally in the arena. Steel weapons cannot.

"Here," Carey hands me something she pulls from a small pouch. I take it, then stare at it doubtfully. It's a small red fruit. I don't know it's name, but I recognize it as a fruit from the Capitol's lavish parties. This one, however, is dried out.

"Where did you get this?" I ask, storing the fruit in my belt. I don't need to eat yet. Better to save this for a worse occasion. Or never. in the event it is poisoned.

"I got it from the cornucopia," Carey responds. Her dark eyes stare at me blankly and, for some reason, I feel...unsettled. Why is it that Carey is the only tribute who can inspire that feeling in me? Not the Careers, not Surorian, not even Avan, my giant of a District partner, can unsettle me as this small, frail girl can. There's just something about her. Something...off. "I thought you'd like to share."

I nod curtly at her. She accepts this response, lying her head back against a rotting log and staring into the sky, where all she can see is a dark canopy of trees and a thick gray fog. Night has fallen on the arena, but you would never be able to tell from just here. This forest makes it always looks like night.

In the distance, something howls.

"A wolf," I say quietly. I'd recognize that sound anywhere.

"Are there wolves in District 10?" Carey asks, not even looking at me. Because of the Capitol's stringent travel laws, she'd never have known much about my home District.

"No. District 10 doesn't have any wolves." It was in the mountains of District 5 where I first encountered wolves. When I was hunting a man who helped murder my parents. He knew that I was coming for him, he had learned about the deaths of his comrades. He sought to hide himself in the mountains, hiring a private army that he thought would be enough to protect him. He thought wrong. He died like all the others, without dignity or mercy.

He fed the wolves that night.

After his death, I went to the Capitol. I planned on killing the last surviving man of the cartel that killed my parents. I did not anticipate that I would be captured by Peacekeepers and entered into the Games. But it matters naught. Now that I am here, I realize that I can win and do what my father did for so many years.

Rule the underground trade with an iron fist.

An peculiar noise comes from the trees around us. I spin around on my knees, katana already at the ready. But there is nothing to see but darkness and mist. An empty forest.

"Owl."

"What?" I turn back to face Carey, who hasn't even moved from her spot. She lifts a finger, pointing into a nearby tree.

"An owl. One just hooted."

I settle back on the ground, setting my katana across my knees. Now that Carey has mentioned it, I can see that it is in fact an owl. It's a large brown thing, resting in the a nearby tree that still has it's leaves. Bright amber eyes shine out from the shadows, seemingly watching us. Did owl's eyes shine? I can't remember.

I watch it for a few moments, wondering if it will do anything threatening. When, after almost a good ten minutes, it does nothing else but rotate it's head around, I decide that it is harmless. For now.

"We will have an early start tomorrow," I say moving myself off of the ground and over to a nearby tree. Its bark is rough and pock-marked with ridges. It looks entirely uncomfortable. Perfect for my purposes. "We'll sleep in turns. I'll take first watch." I rest my back against the tree, ensuring that I am as uncomfortable as possible. Someone who is uncomfortable will not accidentally fall asleep. They will be more aware then an ordinary person.

"I don't sleep."

"What was that?" I turn to face Carey, certain that I heard her incorrectly.

She has not moved from her position lying against the log. "I don't sleep. You can sleep all you want, I'll take all the watches."

Something does not fit. No normal person doesn't need sleep. For a moment, I think that Carey is planning to betray me, to kill me whilst I sleep. But then I realize that is foolish. If that was her plan then she wouldn't have told me that she didn't sleep. She would have just attacked me during her turn on watch.

"I'll wake you if there is anything suspicious," She says when I don't respond. "You don't need to worry."

Oh, don't I? The back of my neck prickles with apprehension. My prior thoughts about Carey prove to be true once more. Something about her is just...wrong. I cannot place a finger on it, but there is some sort of darkness about her. I stare at her small figure, her brown her shorn short, her wide, unblinking eyes. Is it possible that I see a little bit of....myself in the girl? And if so, why does it unsettle me so?

"Regardless," I say, shaking my head to clear the unwelcome thoughts. "I will take first watch. After two hours I will wake you and--"

"I won't be asleep," She says stubbornly.

"Fine, then. After two hours I will let you watch alone, then I will sleep." I watch her expression for a reaction, but she only nods, resting her bad back against the log. I narrow my eyes as I shift my body away from her. Carey is not my concern. There are over twenty other tributes out there, attempting to kill me. I should be more focused on them.

The owl is still there, watching us. I stare at it with a determined gaze. I should probably just climb the tree and kill it. But I find myself staying put, watching the forest around me with a keen eye. The dark, oppressive atmosphere plays to my benefit. Few tributes will be brave enough to explore it's depths, especially at night.

Yet, despite that knowledge, I know that I will not be getting much rest this night.

Aphrodite Lancaster (The Capitol)
I watch from the shelter of the cornucopia as Ash and Silve move empty crates to the spokes leading out from the wooden platform. The two boys pile them one atop another, creating a barrier that will serve as a deterrent to anyone seeking to approach our bastion of governance.

"Pompeii sure seems to have recovered," Harley says from beside me. My friend is resting on an inflatable chair, one of the many we found inside the multitude of crates at the cornucopia. Her dark red hair hangs around her chin, framing her heart-shaped face.

I nod, watching the tall boy as he issues orders to Ash and Silve. Despite the loss of his hand, Pompeii has retained the domineering personality that was the catalyst for his leadership. He looks as physically well as he ever has too. He moves with grace and elegance, never unsteady or uncertain of himself as he bellows out orders. His wound has healed nicely, perhaps too nicely. Personally, I believe that he is stretching himself thin, despite the fact that he himself is doing no real work.

"He certainly has a lot of plans," I say, leaning back in my own inflated chair. It has been an...interesting day. After the bloodbath, we spent the majority of the next few hours going through the supplies, dividing the items we found into matching piles. Pompeii first awoke after that, and we spent some time getting him acclimated to the current situation. That's when night fell and when Pompeii came up with the blockade idea.

The best part about securing the cornucopia is undoubtedly the amount of supplies we have. We have enough food to last us weeks, more weapons then we know what to do with, and so much miscellaneous items that we have yet to catalog them all. I have some items in a bag lying next to my feet; it contains all the stuff I feel I'd need whenever we are to leave the cornucopia.

"Mario is certainly in no rush to help," I say disdainfully as I watch the small girl. She's crouched on the side of the cornucopia, staring out into the night sky with a wistful expression. She holds a trident in her hands, has several knives tucked about her person, and has a spear resting against the cornucopia nearby. She seems far too wary.

"It's not like she could help the boys lift those crates," Harley responds with a shrug, "She's not strong enough."

I nod slowly, observing as Pompeii leads Ash and Silve to the fourth and final spoke; the other three have already had their barricades set up. "Perhaps so, yet I didn't see her assisting anyone with anything."

Harley turns to me, surprised. "Are you saying that she'll betray us?"

"Graces, no!" I shake my head quickly. "I very much doubt that anyone will even think of betraying us until the final eight or so. I just noticed that she is very...lax in her duties." A more polite way of calling her lazy. One must always be polite. That is a lesson I've been taught since childhood. A lady must be prim and proper, always the very vision of elegant beauty.

Harley falls silent, frowning. My dear friend is quite the complicated one. I feel that there must be some sort of...darkness in her past. Oftentimes I find her just staring off into space, oblivious to the world around her. Yet she refuses to speak of anything to due with her time before training. I know from my mentors that she is the daughter of District 2's mayor, so perhaps that has something to do with it. I cannot be certain, however.

Harley suddenly looks up. "Do you really mean what you said?"

I'm taken back. "What I said about what?"

"That none of us will betray one another until the final eight?"

I let out a twinkling laugh. "Is that what's worrying you? Well, you have nothing to fear. We will not turn on one another until necessary. That is the Career way."

"In the last few games," Harley begins quietly. "The Careers have basically always split up or betrayed one another before the end. I can't imagine this Games will be much different."

I frown. Well, perhaps that was true for the 400th and 399th, but the pack in the 398th managed to stick together. And then there was the 397th, five of the last eight tributes were Careers, and the final three were all from the group.

"You have no need to worry," Is all I say. Harley accepts that response, stopping to watch as Pompeii and the rest finish their work and head back towards the cornucopia. Pompeii holds his arm over his head, calling for us all to gather. Harley and I get off our chairs and move to join him.

"What's the plan?" Mario asks as she sidles up, standing at the very edge of the group. Pompeii eyes her for a moment.

"We get some rest," He speaks slowly, his words somewhat slurred. I think that it might be a side effect of all the painkillers he's taken. "I wanted to have us hunt at night, and we would have if I hadn't been--No. We're all too tired. We'll rest, then start the hunt tomorrow."

No one says anything. I look about my allies, expecting a response but not seeing one. Silve just stands stoically, staring down Pompeii. Mario nods and immediately walks away, approaching the side of the cornucopia and sitting down, her back resting against it. Ash merely spits.

I shudder. What a vile, repulsive thing he is! How he was ever allowed in our group is beyond me. What right does a District 12 cretin like him have to be associating with us? His kind deserves to be dead on the ends of our blades, not helping us set up camp.

"Silve and Ash will have first watch," Pompeii suddenly says, looking to the sky. "The Anthem should be starting soon. After that, we'll get some rest." He stops talking, then walks into the cornucopia, settling himself down on one of the inflated chairs. His missing arm is severely hampering him--I can tell. He's less confident, less self-assured. It is rather unfortunate, but I can do nothing to heal his shattered ego.

Stifling a yawn, I follow Harley back to our chairs. The very first day of the Games may not have gone perfectly, but it very well could have ended much worse.

Zamara Nostalic (District 0)
The swamp is dark and wet. Foreboding. Mangrove trees grow large in the water, their spindly roots reaching along the darkened, murky pools and coming out the other side. Lichens and mushrooms grow thickly along the paths, and spongy moss squelches with every step.

This is not my preferred location, but it is the one I am stuck with.

I'm huddled at the base of a large tree, partially protected by its mass of roots. My clothes, while no longer soaking wet from being dropped straight into the swamp by Avan, are still not completely dry. It's almost impossible to be completely dry here. There's just too much moisture. I'd be worried about keeping my bowstring dry...if I had one.

I grimace as I think back to the bloodbath. I was so stupid for not killing Avan when I had the chance. There was no way he'd answer a question at that moment--too much adrenaline was pumping. I should have just shot him and ran.

A chill, biting wind blows past and I tuck myself in tighter, wishing I had a blanket or sleeping bag. Of all the items I gathered at the bloodbath, items pertaining to warmth were not among them.

When night first fell, I had considered starting a fire. It would provide me with the warmth I desire as well as give me some cheer. But I didn't want to take the risk. From where I currently sit, I can see the dark shape of the cornucopia platform hanging above my head. If I started a fire, the Careers world almost certainly spot the smoke, if not the fire itself. Still, that didn't stop me from trying once it got colder. I couldn't do it, however. The wood was too wet, and there just wasn't enough kindling. I don't know whether that was good fortune or bad.

I must make do with what I have.

Sleeping until morning would be the best use of my time, but I must stay up a bit longer. The Anthem should start soon, and then I'll know who died. My mind whirls with the knowledge that I could have killed several Careers--but didn't.

They were all there, all bunched up and easy targets. I could have killed two before they even knew what was happening, then killed another as they scrambled for cover. But I couldn't. They were checking on an injured ally, doing something so...humane. I'm aware that it wouldn't have stopped them, had the positions been reversed. But I'm not them. I'm supposed to be better then them. What would I have proved, killing them while they were concerned with an ally?

Nothing. I would have proven nothing--except that I was no different than they are. I couldn't have done that. My conscious wouldn't let me. But still...a part of me thinks I made a mistake. Those Careers will kill more people now that I let them live. Innocent people will die because I didn't act when I could have. And I know that to win, I'll have to kill those careers later. And I will. I just won't do it when their backs are turned.

I'm so absorbed in my thoughts that when the Anthem starts up, I nearly jump in fright. The Seal lights up the sky, illuminating the cornucopia platform above me and casting a dark, circular shadow down onto the swamp. I make a mental note to keep track of the dead kids as the faces show up, one by one.

Mercury Kwildor. Surprising. I hadn't expected him to die so early. He seemed to be a good person--for a Career. I wonder who killed him? Valencia Sonar. She was a real bitch. I don't feel the slightest bit of sadness at her passing. Nicholas Mecha. Expected. He just didn't seem to have the focus for such a brutal undertaking. Twan Crane. I don't remember the first thing about him. Elia Donsown. She was the only real threat among the alliance that everyone called The Fools. Now that she's gone, I expect her allies to follow in short order. Sad, but true. Ophelia Thrindell. She was a small girl and a loner. I would have expected her to flee the bloodbath, but she must not have, otherwise why would she be in the sky?

The Seal is back in place after that last face. I watch it with a heavy heart. I don't like seeing people die. I wish that they didn't have to. Useless wishing. I cannot change a thing.

Feeling utterly useless, I roll over on my side and close my eyes, hoping to find some solace in sleep.

Auric Venture (Gamemaker)
Auric Venture woke up in a darkened room. He looked around sleepily, not liking the darkness all around him. He enjoyed sunlight and being outdoors, not being cooped up in dark rooms far beneath the earth.

I chose a poor job, then, He thought as he rolled out of bed, flicking on the rooms light and getting himself dressed. He picked out his clothing carefully; an elegant black coat over a crimson vest and a pair of stylish gold-trimmed black trousers. Auric rolled down his sleeves, then stepped out into the hallway.

The Arena Administration area was set in a series of labyrinthine tunnels below the arena. Hallways ran in a perplexing honeycomb like pattern; Auric had gotten lost several times in the week leading up to the Games. He still wasn't certain where most of the tunnels actually led.

Nevertheless, he discarded this thought as he set his path down a nearby hallway. It didn't take him long before he found the Main Administration Block. Banks of computers hummed as he brushed past them--workers greeted him automatically as they panned cameras, searched for tributes, operated the arena's movements. Many had been there since the opening of the Games the night before, and it was starting to show.

But his place was not with the workers busily doing the grunt work of the cameras and arena maintenance--his place was in the Gamemaker's Chamber, the most senior workers and necessary staff together directing the Games. Auric passed by the glossy, clinically white room, and entered the door behind it.

Inside was a simple boardroom. A large, oval table took up most of the space, but a few bookshelves lined the beige walls. The Gamemakers Chamber was actually allowed some color, something Auric was immensely grateful for.

Ten other people sat around the table, seated on overly elaborate chairs. Auric yawned as he took his own spot at the table, sitting on a chair mad entirely out of crystal garnet. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but it was much more impressive than everyone else's chairs.

"You're late, Auric," A man seated at the far end of the table fixed him with a cold stare. Tarik Valii was a tall man with broad shoulders and a shortcut brown hair. He had a very stoicc and utilitarian look about him. Personally, Auric felt that the man tried too hard to replicate the look of the God-Generals. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Perhaps because you have finally come to your senses," Auric said lightly, grabbing a crystal pitcher and using it to fill a matching glass with wine. "Or, perhaps, you have merely lost them."

Auric didn't think much of the early part of the Games. They were dreadfully boring, once the bloodbath was over. Things didn't really pick up until the fourth day, at least. So why bother staying up and watching the uneventful nights?

"Are you really drinking this early?" Marquis Godwin asked from his spot beside the Trevalyn brothers. Marquis was a short man with a few wisps of gray hair atop his head. He had a round face, and a very petite moustache.

"I need something to get me through this meeting," Auric responded, sipping his wine.

As Marquis scoffed, another man leaned forward. "Let us, for a moment, forget about Auric and his vices. Let us return to the matter at hand." Francisco Wells was one of the more overly serious members of the Gamemakers. "We must all now decide what to do with the second day's activities. Traps, events, and mutts must all be considered. Let us open up the discussion."

Auric yawned again, kicking his feet up so that they rested on the table. The rest of the Gamemakers took their jobs too seriously. Yes, the Head Gamemaker of the 400th Games wound up dead, but that was because of his own foolishness. President Stryker hadn't even ordered his execution; the fool man simply killed himself out of some misguided sense of honor. Frankly, Auric thought that actions like that were insane.

The conversation going on around him was boring. And very tense. Besides for himself and Marquis, each one of the Gamemakers belonged to one of the Great Families of the Capitol. There was Tarik, from House Valii. Loxcin and Osjephex, the two Trevalyn brothers. Francisco Wells and his cousin, and, who could forget, three separate Idylwyld's. It seems that an Idylwyld polluted everything, nowadays.

Auric let his gaze linger on Edgar Idylwyld. The man was the least influential of the three, yet he was the most interesting. Solely because his very own daughter was competing in the Games.

Auric wondered if he would try and interfere to help his daughter. So far he had seen nothing incriminating, but it was still early. For the most part, Idylwyld's were exempt from the law, often getting away with things that would lead to execution for most people. But interfering in the Hunger Games? The most prestigious event in the country? Not even an Idylwyld could get away with that.

Which was why Auric was so eager to see them try.

"Where is our Head Gamemaker?" Francisco stopped mid-discussion to cast his narrow eyes around the room. "He is late--even later than Auric, something I thought to be impossible."

Auric smiled at the slight. Always let people underestimate you; that way you can hide in plain sight.

"I doubt that Mr. Stryker will be attending this meeting," Tarik responded smoothly. "As a Councillor, he has other things to focus on."

Auric still found it strange. Noctis Stryker, brother of President Stryker, a member of the Capitol Council. And the Head Gamemaker of the 401st Annual Hunger Games.

He had rarely attended meetings--the only time Auric really recalled seeing him stay longer than a few minutes was at the bloodbath. He didn't fault the man. The meetings were dreadfully boring.

"We should hurry on with this meeting," Loxcin said, his brother nodding beside him. "The tributes will be up and about very soon and I should think that we'd prefer to have our day planninmmed before that, yes?"

"Very well," Francisco shuffled his papers and returned his attention to the other Gamemakers. "Have we decided what mutts should be released this day?"

"Two dozen Pixies," Edgar began reading off a list, sounding surprisingly bored. "Six Spewers, and two Krocs. They will join the pair of Swiftclaws already active in the arena. Is everyone of agreement?"

The men--and lone woman--at the table nodded their heads. Auric, however, let out a loud sigh. The entire table turned to look at him.

"Do you have a problem, Auric?" Tarik asked evenly, staring at him with cold eyes.

"Why, yes, I do!" Auric pulled his feet off the table, straightening his coat as he repositioned himself. "You see, there's a problem with your plan for the day--it's boring."

"Not this again," Marquis muttered to the Idylwyld next to him. Auric ignored him.

"We need to unleash a more interesting mutt. One that makes everyone stop and say 'Oh, my! That was astounding!'. In short, we need the Nahual."

Auric had expected loud objections to his idea, but he was instead greeted by something far more surprising. Silence.

Eventually, Tarik spoke. "That is an...interesting proposal. However, you know very well that we cannot use it."

Auric smiled. Oh, he knew the reasons everyone came up with but, to him, they weren't very good ones. "Whyever not? It's not as if we could use it in the war. It's far too...unwieldy for that. So, why not have it in the Games?"

"It's not going to happen," Francisco said with a shake of his head. The rest murmured their agreements.

Auric knew that they wouldn't want to. The Nahual wasn't like any other mutt. It had one big, distinct difference: The Capitol hadn't intended to create it. It was a mistake, something born from their scientists meddling with things they didn't understand. That wasn't the only difference, however. The Nahual could also think. Not like an animal. It was more advanced then that. Smarter. The Nahual could understand abstract concepts and philosophical questions. It could solve puzzles and diagnosis problems. In short, the Nahual thought like a human.

There was only one Nahual. Since its creation had been an accident, no one knew the way to make a second. And no one had tried. The President had even created a law forbidding anyone from attempting. Too unwieldy to be used for warfare, it had been gifted to the Gamemakers to use as they saw fit.

That was fifteen years ago. The Nahual still had not been used.

"There's no reason to fear it," Auric continued to try and press his idea on the unwilling group. "The Nahual listens to orders. It will do as we instruct."

"That may be true," Edgar began, leafing through papers on his desk. "But I do not think that we should use it."

"Why not?"

There was no response. The rest of the Gamemakers sat at their desks silently, looking uncomfortable but saying nothing. The truth was that they only hesitated to use the Nahual because they were frightened of it. It wasn't like the Annhilator, big, flashy, and almost indestructible. Nor was it like the jabberjay, small and non-violent, but incredibly useful. The Nahual was something else.

Something better.

"It will not be used," Tarik spoke firmly, setting a hand down atop the table. "We, as a group, have decided against your proposition."

That settled it. Auric shrugged as the rest of of Gamemakers began to rise. They would each go see to their own individual tasks in managing the Games. Auric's own primary job was setting the resources in the arena; something that was, for the most part, already finished.

Auric downed his glass of wine in one drink, then tossed it to the side. It had been a good try. He had so desperately wanted to see the Nahual in action. It was a subtle thing, one that may not be immediately obvious, but was by far hugely effective. He doubted he'd get to see it. These were the final Hunger Games, after all.

There was no point hiding from the truth. Despite what others thought, Auric knew that the Capitol would lose the war. Especially after the destruction of District 14. The Capitol would fall, and so would the Games. Auric himself would probably be executed.

Auricshrugged, standing up and following the others out of the room. He was going to pass the time in the spa they had in the Arena Recreation Unit. If one was to consider the end of the world, it was better to do it from the lap of luxury.

Pompeii Vulcan (District 4)
I am awake before any of the others.

I sit on the edge of a crate, staring out at the dark shape of a forest in the distance. The sun is creeping up over the horizon, bringing light to the arena. It glints softly off the metal of my hand. I watch the light sparkle, feeling melancholy.

Yesterday, I had a hand cut off. For the third time. My body shudders as I think of the incident, of the blinding, pulsating pain. I stare at the cauterized stump that was once my left arm.

I feel...empty. I've never felt this way before. Not even when Kenneth originally cut my hands off. Back then, it had happened too fast for me to comprehend and, when I had woken up, I had already been gifted the steel hands.

I had thought them a gift. After all, they were much more powerful than simple hands of flesh and bone. I didn't care that I had lost my sense of touch. I didn't need it. There was no pain either, that first time. I was treated well by the hospital.

But now...

Compulsively I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out bottle of pills. I drown the painkillers in one gulp, shuddering as I feel my senses slowly deaden. Despite my arm being...treated I can still feel the pain. It's always there, in the back of my head, waiting for my sense to return...

I stand up and head back towards the cornucopia, trying to shake those thoughts from my head. Ash, who is on guard duty, spins to face me as I approach. I give him a reassuring nod he returns to his watch.

He's a good ally. Some of the others may not like him, but he's more than worthy of being apart of the Careers. He may not say much, but better a silent soldier then a loudmouth idiot.

The others are still asleep. Unable to banish my restlessness, I pick up a sword and begin to go through some simple forms. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, I am not as quick or powerful as I was with two hands. The sudden loss of weight also effects my balance far more than I had envisioned it would.

Still, I practice. There is nothing to be gained by moping or wishing for the impossible. My hand may be gone, but that does not mean that I am done for. With one hand I am still far more deadly then most people are with two.

Ash watches me as I practice. I feel a little self-conscious, but he is evidently impressed. He nods approvingly as I finish with a flourish of strikes. "You're real good, boss man," He says.

I nod at him. "Practice makes perfect, after all."

A loud yawning noise has both of us turning around. Harley and Aphrodite are walking out of the cornucopia, looking tired and slightly disheveled. "Is it time?" Harley asks while blinking sleep from her eyes.

I look to the sky. While the sun itself is still entirely hidden behind the clouds, sunlight has awashed the arena with a soft yellow glow. "Yes. We should start our hunting."

Silve and Mario join us shortly. Neither of them looks the least bit tired. Silve stretches out his limbs. "So, which biome are we tackling?"

We had done some scouting yesterday, and while we didn't actually enter any of them, we did learn enough to differentiate the biomes. I can't imagine that many people tried to hide in that dark looking forest, but perhaps that's the idea. Why would anyone think to look in there?

"Any ideas?" I try and be diplomatic. There's no point in infuriating my only allies with pigheaded stubbornness.

"The colorful forest," Mario says instantly, pointing to the south. "That's where I think we should go."

"Any objections?" I turn to face my allies, but none of them speak. Silve shakes his head.

"We're all fine with that," He says. I nod. All of them are good people, there's not a whiner among the bunch. Silve especially is a good soldier. Many people back home watching probably expect him to try and make a move for leadership, now that I am wounded. But he's not like that. He, like all of us, are tributes of honor and integrity. We'd never turn on one another.

An uncomfortable twinge stirs in my stomach. I've always knew this day would happen; I've trained my entire life for the Games. I always thought that I would win the Games with ease, killing anyone who opposed me. But now that I'm here, now that I know my allies, I no longer have such confidence. I will eventually have to kill them. But...they're all good people. I don't want to see them all dead. At least that's not something you have to worry about for a few more days, A voice in my head says.

For some reason, that brings me little comfort.

We all gather our weapons and any other equipment we might need. Once we're all ready to go, however, Harley surprises me by stepping forward. "I think we need someone to stay behind and guard."

"No one is stupid enough to try and steal from us," Ash says, spitting as he speaks.

"Well, I, for one, think that Harley is right!" To no one's surprise, it is Aphrodite who speaks. She and Ash have never really gotten along. If Ash were to say that the sky was blue, she'd disagree just for the sake of it.

But, then again, the sky is green over one biome...

"Very well," I decide that it is time to make an executive decision, stepping between the squabbling Aphrodite and Ash. "We'll keep two people back as guards. Harley, Aphrodite, do you girls think you can do that?"

The two of them nod.

As I turn, I find myself trying to use my non-existent left hand to scratch my face. I let my arm drop back to my side, feeling hollow. I'm weak. Weaker than I have ever been before. I don't like it. Not at all.

I lead the Careers out across the platform, hoping that I look more confident then I feel.

Corin Greer (District 5)
When I wake up in the morning, I bolt straight to my feet. My hands grabbing for my sword, which I kept next to me as I slept. And I'm glad I did. Because the world...it's changed.

The grass is dark teal, a color that is not in any way natural. The sky is a deep green, something that--

I blink slowly, then sit back down, leaning against the moss covered log I spent the night using as a pillow. Memories return to me. I am in the arena, the biome that is hugely messed up.

Why the hell did they think that was a good idea?

I lie still for several long minutes. I survived the night. That's good. Eventually I decide to rise, pulling myself up and looking around the forest. Where's Cecil? I don't see him anywhere.

I'm not about to call out for him. That would be stupid and unnecessary. What kind of idiot would make such a ruckus out in the arena? Especially just to find an ally. Hell, I don't even know I can trust Cecil.

Cecil. Blind. It's almost impossible to believe. It angers me, but because he's blind. He lied to me. He let me think that he was as capable as any other tribute out here. His blindness may not be a complete liability, but it sure the hell isn't an advantage.

"Corin."

Cecil's voice in my ear has me jump. I spin around, sword out, and just narrowly avoid cleaving his head from his shoulders. "Don't sneak up on people like that!" I snap as he shies away from me.

"Sorry." He ducks his head meekly and I find myself feeling guilty. Unnecessarily so. He's the moron who snuck up on me! I could have accidentally killed him! Still...I didn't think that a blind person could move so stealthily.

"That was impressive," I admit grudgingly. He looks up, a small smile on his face. Suddenly I feel irritated. He didn't purposely sneak up on me just to show his skills, did he? Judging by his sly smile, I don't think I need an answer to that.

Not for the first time I find myself wishing that I could see through those sunglasses. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" He asks, squatting down and running a hand through his unruly brown hair. "Sneak around in a forest?"

"That and everything else. I'd have thought that a blind person would be killed at the bloodbath." And he would have been, if not for me. I think back to fighting off those two careers and smile. If I can beat them, then I can beat anyone.

"My hearing is better than most people's," He says simply.

"There has to be more than that."

He shrugs. "I have some martial arts training, but it's not like I've fought anyone off." So that's it. I was wondering how he was so skilled. His expertise with weapons, shurikens in particular, was what originally led to me selecting him as an ally. As I watch him pluck a blade of grass and stick it between his teeth, a thought strikes me.

"Could you teach me?"

"Teach you what?"

"You know," I gesture with my hands. "Your martial arts. I think it would do me some good to know that stuff."

"Oh...I don't think it's that useful," He shakes his head and I frown. So. He wants to keep his skills for himself? I can't blame him for that, but I can't take no for an answer either.

"Come on, show me. I'll teach you some sword skills in exchange."

Cecil shakes his head. "What good would that do me? I don't have a sword, and I never be able to beat someone who can see."

"So you'd rather give up without even trying," I say flatly.

He bristles slightly. "I didn't say that! I--fine. I'll teach you some of the moves I know, if it'll make you happy." I allow myself a smile. I've always enjoyed my ability to convince people to do what I want. I'm just good at that.

We find a relatively open area, then Cecil proceeds to walk me through some of his simpler moves. I pick it up with speed, easily replicating some of the things he shows me. When he decides to give a demonstration, however, I'm taken back by how quickly and deftly he moves.

"You're good," I say as he finishes a move set and stops to take a drink of water. Because of the amount of ponds in the area, we don't have to worry about running out n

"You sound like you're surprised."

"I am. You're blind, after all."

He pauses, then chuckles softly. "You're a very blunt person, Corin."

I shrug. "So I've been told." Better that he thinks I am that simple. Never let people know just how layered you all. If he doesn't think that I am capable of being sly and manipulative, then all the better for me.

In the trees, a bird caws. Instantly Cecil's gaze snaps to where the bird shoots from a high branch, soaring off into the sky. I watch silently, impressed. "Your hearing is very good."

"Yeah..." He scratches his ear, looking almost self-conscious. "I can hear a lot of stuff, but it's not about what you can hear, but about what you can ignore.

I frown, confused. Cecil seems to notice this, as he quickly carries. "You see, you need to be able to judge what is important and what isn't. If you can't separate the two, then you'll know if that noise you hear is a sword swinging for your head or--" He spins around, hand shooting out into the air behind him. "--just a harmless leaf fluttering to the ground."

He opens his palm, revealing a dark teal leaf.

"Impressive."

He smiles, his face reddening somewhat. This time, I'm certain he's feeling self-conscious. Time to knock him off his high horse. "It's impressive, but it clearly didn't help you wt the bloodbath. You were just standing there like a startled duck."

His smile vanishes. "Yes, well...the bloodbath was a little...too overwhelming."

That's true enough. I could barely comprehend the thing, and I have the full ability of fight. Deciding that we've spoken enough, I try some more of the moves he taught me. As I practice, however, Cecil speaks.

"What's that thing you wear? On your back. Is it a cape?"

I halt my movements, Elijah's jacket fluttering to a stop with me. "You can tell?"

He nods. "Yeah, I can hear it flapping when you move. Is it your token?"

I nod slowly. "Yes. It's my father's jacket." I don't need to say anything more than that. I didn't even need to say as much as I did. What does it matter to Cecil? Nothing. It doesn't matter at all. "Come on. Let's get back to training. After you show me some more moves, we can train with the sword."

He nods, then joins me in our silent practice.

Zamara Nostalic (District 0)
The Careers have not left the cornucopia unguarded. I expected that, of course, but I was hoping that they might have been lax with their duties. Unfortunately, they're just as competent as I feared.

I crouch in the very edge of the cornucopia platform, near the spoke that leads to the ominous-looking forest. Thick foliage covers me as I lie flat on my stomach, watching as two figures move about on the distant platform.

Two guards. That was actually not something I had accounted for. It's not an insurmountable hurdle, but bypassing two Careers will be immeasurably harder than going against one.

I wish I could tell who they left behind. My eyesight is good, but not that good. From where I lie, the two Careers are little more than indistinguishable figures. Still, knowing that there is only two helps. I just wish I knew where the rest had gone.

It's not yet noon, and the warmth offered by the sun--still hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds--is insubstantial. A chill wind blows across the dead brown grass, and I shiver. I do not like this arena.

It was the swamp that hindered my journey here; I probably would have arrived before the Careers left had it been simpler to navigate. But the swamp has very few real paths, and even those are riddled with thick glops of mud and hidden sinkholes. One wrong step could have ended my time in the Games. Then I had to pick my way up the steep pathways that crisscross the ravine that lewds into the swamp. It was slow work. Better careful then dead, as the old adage goes. I just wish being careful hadn't left me playing without a full deck of cards.

When will the other Careers return? How long did they leave? What biome did they enter? Knowing any of this information would have been incredibly useful. I don't want to make my play just as the others show up. After all, the reason I'm here is because I lack a real weapon.

I slide my fingers down the length of an arrow. I have exactly ten of these, and while I have no bow to fire them with, they still have steel tips. Worst comes to worst, I can stab or slash someone with them, just like I did with Avan.

Of course, the people I'm fighting will have much superior weapons.

Out on the platform, one of the Careers walks into the shelter of the cornucopia. The other crouches down near the western spoke, the spoke furthest from my own.

This could be my chance. The Careers have organized their items into several different piles, and each one is about two feet away from the next. Only one of the piles is directly in front of the mouth. With luck, that pile isn't the weapons. If I just rush in and grab what I need, I could be able to get away before they even notice my presence.

It won't be easy, however. In the middle of each spoke is a wall of crates, stacked three high, that stretch from barricade to barricade. The crates themselves are more than six feet tall. To bypass them, I'd have to push one over, or carefully pull it down. Doing either would draw the guards' attention.

Like I said, the Careers were just as competent as I thought they'd be.

They didn't plan for me, however. Who better to defeat the Careers then one who was trained in their own ways? No one in the arena knows that about me. But maybe they'll soon find out.

I crawl out from the undergrowth and make for the platform at a speedy crouch. The Careers aren't looking and I make short progress of the open ground. Before I know it, I've reached the wall of crates.

Now comes the hard part. While the Careers themselves cannot see over the crates, neither can I. If I try slowly pulling them, I may very well be exposing myself. Still, I cannot afford to not act. That would undermine my whole purpose here.

With one hand firmly clutched around an arrow, I use the other to pull the topmost crate towards me.

It hits the wooden deck with a thump. Through the now visible slot, I see as the red-haired District 2 girl spins around to stare at me.

Then she yells for help.

Cursing, I throw myself over the crates, knocking a few more over in the process. The weapon pile lies near the center of the platform, next to the cornucopia. The District 2 girl, Harley, I think her name is, stands between me and it.

"Time to show your skills, Zamara," I mutter to myself. As another girl comes running out of the cornucopia, I sprint forward. Harley moves to meet me, her arm rising as she lifts a large warhammer over her head.

I slide just as she brings it down. The weapon sails over my head, crashing into the wooden boards. As she stumbles from the impact, I slam my arrowhead into the back of her thigh.

She falls to one knee with a yelp as I turn to face the next Career, pulling two more arrows from my quiver. Aphrodite approaches me warily. In one hand she holds a elegantly curved sword. In the other a shield.

This is going to be tricky.

Aphrodite charges forward with a flurry of quick strikes. It takes all of my speed to roll out of the way. I regain my feet and break into a run towards the pile of weapons. Aphrodite screams in rage behind me.

"Harley! Help me! We can't let her get away!"

My goal here isn't to kill them, even though I now think that might be possible. I'm only here for weapons.

I reach the pile and instantly grab two daggers, sticking each one into my belt. Next, I grab the silvery bow--the only one that is present--and sling it over my shoulder. Next, I--

A sword cleaves the air next to my head. I throw myself to the side as the follow-up blow slashes towards me. Aphrodite swings with careful precision, each strike aimed at my weakest parts. Unfortunately for her, I am too quick to hit.

"You. Will. Not. Escape!" Aphrodite growls with frustration as I back away. One of the spokes is close. I could turn and run. I doubt Aphrodite would catch me. But another part of me wants to stay and fight. I could kill two Careers right here and now. I could make up for my failure at the bloodbath.

Something hits me in the side, slamming me to the ground. The air rushes out of my lungs as Harley grapples herself atop me, hands fumbling for my neck.

My hubris cost me. I should have escaped while I had the chance. But I'm not dead yet.

I reach back into my quiver and pull an arrow free. I jab this at Harley, but this time she sees it coming. She throws herself off me, rolling to the side in order to avoid the blow.

Instantly I'm on my feet, sprinting down the nearest spoke. I hear no footsteps following, but I don't turn around. I blast through the wall of crates, scattering them as I hurtle down the wooden passageway.

It's not until I reach the oddly-colored forest, my side aching with pain and my hands damp with sweat, do I turn and look back.

Harley and Aphrodite are standing by the cornucopia, stationary. They make no move to follow me.

With a relieved breath, I turn and plunge into the forest, glad that my plan was, for all extens and purposes, successful.

Mario Firth (District 4)
We make our way through the coloured forest as quietly as we can manage. Pompeii leads the way, his good hand holding a sword that he uses to cut down any brush that covers out path. Ash follows closely behind him, a slingshot in his hands and an axe at his side. Silve and I bring up the rear.

This hunt better have good results. Though there are six Careers left, there are still twenty other non-careers. If we don't start killing off the real threats now, it will undoubtedly come back to bite us later.

Regardless of whether we kill the others or not, I know that I have to start planning for the fall of the Careers now. Eventually this group will absolve; either because we start killing one another or because someone else takes us out. It doesn't matter which. I just need to have a backup plan for when it happens, because it will happen.

Pompeii growls with annoyance as he cuts down a low-hanging branch and we emerge into an empty clearing. We've been hunting for over an hour now with no luck. "Want to take a break?" Silve asks him quietly. I don't know whether he's tired or simply bored.

"No. No breaks. We keep going until we find someone!" Pompeii charges off into the forest again, already hacking down some more branches.

"We'll never find anyone by making so much noise," I mutter this to Silve. He grunts in agreement.

Ash watches us with narrowed eyes. "Why don't you tell him instead of keeping this to yourself?"

I turn to glare at the boy, but as I am doing so Pompeii looks back. "What are you guys arguing about?"

"Mario thinks we're making too much noise," Silve responds instantly. At first I think he's throwing me under the boat, but then he continues. "And I agree with her. We need to move more stealthily. The other tributes fear us; any noise we make will send then running for the hills."

Pompeii stops to consider this. For a moment I think that the idiot will just dismiss my idea out of hand, but he surprises me by nodding slowly. "I suppose you're right. We should move more carefully." He returns to his path, but he no longer uses his sword with such wanton disregard. He even steps more softly.

Ash walks pass me, a smug look on his face. "Told ya so."

I ignore him. I don't care about him in the slightest. He may be one of the stronger Careers, but he still has weaknesses. Weaknesses that I can exploit. I just need to find them.

I've been cataloging the weaknesses for all of my allies. Some of them have obvious ones, like Aphrodite and her arrogance. That will undoubtedly be the cause of her downfall. Others were less clear, especially Pompeii, but then he got injured and gave himself an obvious weakness. Exploiting the loss of his hand should prove easy enough.

I haven't yet figured out Silve's weakness, but I'm beginning to think that I won't have to. Unlike the rest, I might not have to abandon him. He might just be an ally I can take with me all the way.

That is, if I can get him to trust me.

That boy doesn't even seem to trust his own shadow, let alone another person. Gaining his trust won't be an easy task; it might even be impossible. But I have to go with him. None of the others are worth anything.

"So, what's our plan for the day?"

As the words drift through the forest, I stiffen instantly. Beside me. Silve does the same. That voice does not belong to any Career. That means one thing. We found some tributes.

Ahead of us, Pompeii mouthes words at us, pointing with his sword. The tributes are just to the east of us, behind a group of thick oak trees and a mask of heavy vines. Silve taps me on the shoulder and points to his chest. He wants me to follow.

He skirts around the edge of the trees, me following close behind. Ash and Pompeii slip around the other side. We seek to catch the tributes in a pincher attack. And there are multiple tributes. I hear several voices talking as we make our way towards them, crouching low to the ground, hidden behind the thick-growing vines.

Silve stops behind a holly bush, his body tense as he peers through gaps in the foliage. I sidle up beside him and peek my own look at the tributes. There's four of them. The pair of District 6 and the pair from District 11. Perfect.

This alliance is the deadliest in the arena. Left unchecked, they will run rampant through the Games and one of them will emerge as an unchallenged Victor. That is why it's so crucial that we cut them down here and now.

Alpha, the boy from District 11, stands at the head of the alliance as they stand in a small circle, conversing with one another. He's a tall, broad-shouldered boy with brown hair cut short in Peacekeeper-style. He was the one who cut off Pompeii's hand, using thaty large axe that rests over his left shoulder. He will be hard to take down.

But poison will kill him swiftly.

I know that some people back at the Career Academy--and probably some of my allies--think that poison is a cowards weapon. They think that if you are to kill a person they are entitled to see you coming and have a chance to defend themselves. I think that's a stupid line of thought. If you're going to kill someone, best to do it as effectively as possible. If that means using poison, then so be it.

My sister thought that my little knives would be ineffective. I'll show her the effectiveness of my knives. This morning I took the liberty of coating them with a layer of poison received from the cornucopia. Now my "little knives" will fell the tallest of giants with single glancing blow.

Silve nudges my shoulder with his elbow, pointing behind the four tributes, at a bush where you can see Pompeii and Ash getting ready to rise. So we'll soon attack. But who will target who? We need a coordinated strategy. We can't just rush in and--

Pompeii leaps out of the bushes, screaming a war cry as he charges the quartet. Next to me, Silve mutters a curse and leaps out to lend his aid to our leader. I hiss in annoyance.

The tributes see Pompeii's approach and react vastly different ways. Alpha swings his axe into motion, charging Pompeii with an equally loud cry of fury. Omega bursts into tears before turning and running away with Lavender. Armado holds his spear in one hand, using the other to point at his allies. He pulls this back with a scream as a flurry of metal balls smash against his hand. Ash smiles as he stuffs his slingshot into his pants and charges with his axe.

Armado does the only sane thing. He turns tail and runs.

Silve and Pompeii both descend on Alpha as his allies desert him, fleeing in opposite directions into the woods. I'm holding a knife, ready to throw, but find that I have no targets. Lavender and Omega have long since disappeared into the woods, Armado is fleeing in another direction with Ash close behind him, and trying to hit Alpha would be deadly towards my own alliance. I cannot do anything.

Instead, I turn to watch the battle.

Alpha fights with brutal strength, his axe smashing away the swords of Silve and Pompeii. He is ferocious and swift, dancing away from their blades when they grow too close. But he's no trained warrior. He didn't spend his life training for this like my allies have.

In short, he cannot win.

His axe slams into the center of Silve's sword, shattering it in two as the hefty blade cones down. But this leaves him open to Pompeii, and my leader is all to happy to take advantage of the opportunity.

There's a sound of steel meeting flesh, then a gasp of breath from Alpha as Pompeii's sword takes him just below the ribs. The tall boy stumbles backwards, dropping his axe. Pompeii rips his blade back out, a content look on his face. He must feel so pleased, defeating the boy who had chopped off his hand.

Alpha falls backwards into the thick brush and, to my surprise, there is a sound of thumping and shouts of pain as he goes.

"What happened?" I ask, stowing my unneeded knives away.

Silve peers into the brush as Pompeii cleans off his blade. "Looks like we're closer to the cornucopia then I thought. Alpha took a tumble into the swamp."

"Don't worry about him," Pompeii's face is a mask of pure elation as he turns back to the woods. "He's dead. Now, you two need to chase after those girls. I'm going to back Ash up." Before we can even say anything, he's off, dashing into the woods

Silve turns to me and shrugs. "You heard him. Let's go get those girls."

Lavender Morton (District 6)
The pounding of blood rushing to my ears is all I can hear as I run through the forest, slowed down by Omega, who clings to my arm. My breath is short and ragged. My movements quick and panicked. The Careers. The Careers have found us.

Their arrival was a blur. I remember talking with Armado when they first attacked, Pompeii springing out of the forest and charging us like a madman. Alpha stepped up to fight with him as the rest arrived and I bolted. I ran like a woman posessed. I fled. I abandoned.

No. I did not abandon my allies. Not all of them.

I stop my frantic movements, halting in the middle of the forest. Omega trips over a tangle of wiry tree roots, hitting the earthen ground with a muted thud. She lies there and cries. She does not try to get back up.

"What are we going to do?" The words are barely audible through her sobs. "Th-they're going to k-kill Alpha..."

I don't answer. My eyes are searching the forest around us. The vibrant trees and entangling vines. The ripe fruit and plentiful ponds. What are we going to do? I do not see an escape route.

Vaguely, I remember an incident similar to this one. But then, I was fleeing from Peacekeepers and thugs. I was in a city, an urban cesspool. There I knew places to hide, places to run. Here, I know of no such places. Not that they helped. I was caught in that city all the same.

"Get up," I reach down and take Omega by the arm, pulling the little girl up none too gently. "We need to hide. They'll be coming after us." Of course they will. Alpha must be dead already. He could only hold them off for so long. And Armado...I don't know where he went. I hope he is safe.

I know that I'm not.

I pull Omega behind me as I go back to running. The girl does little to help me herself. She lies limp, as if she has given up all hope. Somewhere in the back of my mind I think to leave her behind, to make my own way through the woods. The Careers would slow down to kill her and perhaps they would be satisfied with two kills. I could escape.

But I can't. I can't bring myself to let go of the girl. To abandon her. I won't be like Morina. I will stay and help, no matter the cost to myself.

I screech to a halt as I see something that just might save us. "Here!" I scrabble over some roots and shove through a colorful berry bush. Behind I see a large, hollow log. It must have been a fallen tree. Or maybe the Gamemakers purposely left it. I don't care. I push Omega into the small opening. "We can hide here. They won't find us." I pray.

It's cramped and uncomfortable inside the log. Movement is difficult. I'm forced to lie flat on my stomach and squirm to fit inside. And just in time. I hear the Careers only seconds after I squeeze in.

The forest shudders with the pounding of their feet as they run past, as silent as they are deadly. There's no whooping, no shouting. Just precise, deadly movements. I hear the bracken sway and shudder as they force themselves past our log.

Omega lets out a whimper.

"Quiet!" It pains to me to eve say the word. My heart is beating so loudly that I cannot even hear myself, but I'm terrified that the Careers will hear us. I can imagine them descending upon the log, dragging us out by our feet, raising their steel weapons as we kick and scream. I have no weapon of my own. No way to defend myself. Death would be certain.

But they don't find us.

After that initial passing I don't hear them again. We lie inside the log for more than an hour, silent and panicked. Every now and then I will hear an animal, a squirrel maybe, or a bird, but I never hear the telltale pounding of Career feet. Eventually, when I can take being cooped up no more, I squirm out of the log.

The forest is quiet. Eerily so. My eyes flicker around the surrounding trees, searching for a hiding Career, but they see nothing. We've escaped.

Omega is a crying, shaking mess as she crawls out from the log. Her reddish-gold hair is a disheveled mess and there are tear tracts down her dirt-stained face. "Alpha is dead!" She sobs quietly, hugging her knees to her chest. Surprisingly, it's her words that bring me the realization.

"No," I say, looking up at the green sky in wonder. "He's not dead."

"Yes he is. The Careers killed him!"

"No. There was no cannon. They sound a cannon after every death, but I haven't heard a single one all day." Omega perks up, the tears stopping as she too looks at the sky. I can scarcely believe it myself. Alpha is not dead. Neither is Armado! I feel a grin on my face, much to my surprise. I don't care much for Alpha, but I'm glad that he is not dead, despite the fact that his death would only help me. Now that the Careers have a grudge against him, any worth he had as an ally is gone.

Still, I'm thankful for Omega's sake that he's alive. And Armado. The sense of relief I feel knowing that he is safe is almost as large as the one I felt when I knew that the Careers wouldn't find me.

Omega surprises me by standing up. She begins to walk off in the direction we had fled when I grab her elbow. "Where are you going?"

"Alpha is alive. He needs my help." She stubbornly shakes my hand off and darts into the forest, not the least bit concerned. I don't know whether I should feel proud or annoyed.

"We can't just wander the arena," I say quietly, marching up behind her. I don't let her get more than a few feet away from me. She may be a small, defenceless twelve year-old, but she is the only ally I have. I'm not about to let her wander off on her own. "The Careers, or someone else, will find us if we do." I'm thinking of the Anti-Careers, or Surorian. Even someone like Topher could kill the two of us if he had a weapon.

Omega, however, cares about nothing but her brother. "We need to find him. He would search for me, so I will search for him."

So search we do. Despite our best efforts, we are unable to find the spot where we were attacked. It doesn't help that the forest around us is a maze of colors and strange sights. Twice I think I see a vine moving on its own, only to look again and see nothing strange. I'm beginning to think that I've gone insane when something swoops down from the sky and lands right in front of us.

It's not a bird. Nor is it a bug. It's a person.

The small, pixie-like woman is about the size of my tallest finger. She has an angular face and flowing hair that goes all the way down to her ankles. The hair seems to give off some sort of translucent glow.

"She's so pretty..."

Before I can stop her, Omega reaches out a finger and brushes it against the little woman. I expect the Pixie to attack or growl, but instead it just...smiles. The little woman zips into the air, flying in a circle around Omega's head. I watch with wary bemusement.

"I think she wants us to follow her," Omega says.

"I don't think that's a good idea." I have more sense than to try and follow what can only be a mutt. Omega may have forgotten that we're in the Hunger Games, but I sure haven't. I'm still expecting the little woman to try and bite my fingers off.

"Trust me. She's trying to help." The Pixie zips off into the forest and Omega is following without even a word of warning. Groaning to myself, I follow along.

The Pixie seems to know where it's going, at least. She takes the most direct path through the trees, traveling parallel to the path we had taken when trying to retrace our steps. As we go, I swear that I can see several more of the Pixies floating around treetops. What do they want?

Just as I'm about to call off this stupid chase, Omega pulls to a halt. Ahead of us, the ground suddenly dips down into a small crate. Hanging above the dark trees of the swamp lies the cornucopia platform.

From this distance I can barely make out a pair of shapes lifting boxes and setting them up in some sort of barricade. Two and only two. The rest of the Careers must still be out hunting. I'm about to tell Omega that we should head back into the shelter of the trees when she let's out squeal and darts forward, sliding down the trail towards the swamp.

"Omega!" What is the girl thinking? I don't have time to think. I didn't come all this way just to lose my allies now. Deeply regretting this entire day, I peer over into the basin and see a small, curving path that leads down. Omega, who completely ignored the path, has already reached the bottom of her slide. The back of her jacket is torn, ripped against rocks while sliding. "Fool."

I take the path down. In a few moments I'm stepping onto the spongy ground of the swamp, the overbearing scent of dead wood and murky water flowing over me. I wrinkle my nose as I step forward, calling out for Omega. Where did that Pixie go anyways?

I skirt around the edges of the swamp, keeping close to the slope that leads up to the colorful forest. The cornucopia platform is still above me. Where are the Careers? I stumble forward when I hear footsteps behind me. I whirl around to find a dark-haired girl holding a loaded bow, arrowhead pointed straight at my chest.

"Who are you?" I'm surprised that my voice is so calm. I feel like I should be panicking, but instead I'm just icy calm.

The girl lowers her bow. "Zamara. I'm from District 0."

I nod numbly. I remember her. I saw her skills during training and I know that she is not someone I could beat in a fight. Zamara sticks her arrow back into her quiver. "I saw the Careers fight your alliance. One of your allies fell into the swamp, he wasn't dead but the Careers left him. I was trying to find him."

"Armado?" I ask, my excitement mixed with dreadful worry.

"No. The district 11 male."

"Why do you care?" So Armado is still missing. I hope he is safe.

"I don't like the Careers," Zamara says simply. "And anyone who is an enemy of theirs is a friend of mine." She holds her hand out for me to shake. I stare at it for a few moments, but I know that I don't have a choice.

I shake her hand.

Zamara smiles lightly. "Now, lets go get your allies."

We find Omega crouched near a tall group of reeds. She has her back to us and is sobbing softly. I open my mouth to scold her for running off but snap it shut when I see the body.

Alpha lies in the reeds, his crimson blood mixing with the brown of the mud. There's a large hole in his stomach, just below the ribs. So much blood flows from the wound that I know he must be dead, but then his eyes flicker open, slowly, but open they do.

"Omega..." His voice is barely audible. His hand rises from the ground, reaching for his sister. With a tremble, it falls back to the dirt.

"I'm here, Alpha. I'm here." Omega clutches his hand. I find myself feeling...nothing. I expected some sadness or fear, but I'm oddly hollow. The Careers defeated Alpha because thaat is what they do. He may have got the jump on them at the bloodbath, but it could only last so long. And if Alpha was caught...what about Armado?

"I'm so sorry, Alpha!" Omega is almost hysterical as she speaks. "This is all my fault. Everything is my fault!"

"No...it's...not..."

"But it is! I was the one who hired the men who killed our family. I...am the reason we were reaped." Omega holds her brother's gaze as she speaks. I don't understand a word she says, but he does.

"No...that's..." Alpha's body goes slack, his head falling back against the mud. "Omega...why would...you..."

"I was mad at you. I wanted revenge on you, so I paid someone to do it. But he went further than I wanted. I didn't mean for this! I didn't want this! I didn't! You have to believe me!" Alpha doesn't respond. His brown eyes are glassy and unfocused as they stare straight ahead. A cannon sounds. Boom!

Omega lifts her head to the sky and let's out a wail.

Emma Brynne (District 9)
We stand near one of the bubbling pools, on the very edge of the rocky area, near the tree-line of the ominous forest as we wait for the silver parachute to land.

Bastien reaches up and grabs it before it even lands. The package attached to the parachute is long and narrow. It's wrapped up tightly in some sort of mesh wire, but I can still tell what it is.

"A sword," I say breathlessly. Our weapon problem has solved itself. Or, at least, it has partially solved itself. One sword is not enough for an alliance of three.

"Splendid!" Topher claps his hands together. "Absolutely splendid! That is a fine weapon you got there, Bastien." I force myself to smile along. I'm glad for Bastien, of course. But I'm also upset with myself. According to my stylist, I'm a beautiful, porcelain maiden. People in the Capitol went crazy for me at the Chariot Rides and interviews. But despite that, I didn't get any sponsor item. Bastien did, but I didn't.

I'm useless. Utterly useless. Why am I always dragging everyone else down?

Bastien gives the sword a few test swings. It cuts through the air with a swish. "Good steel," He says with a small smile. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that he actually knew what he was talking about.

Topher slaps Bastien on the back. "I daresay that the other tributes will have to take our prestigious alliance seriously now!"

"But neither of us have weapons," I point out.

Topher smiles cleverly. "Ah, but I have an excellent idea on how we could solve that problem!"

Something about Topher and the word "idea" has alarm bells ringing in my head. "I don't think we need your...idea," I say as he walks proudly over to the forests edge. Even outside the forest itself, the oppressive atmosphere it exudes seems to suck up all light.

"Not to worry. This shouldn't take long!" He walks along the trees, eventually stopping beside the trunk of a fallen one. "Everyone is always looking for sponsors and technology to solve their problems," he says as he bends down and begins to tug at one of the still attached branches, "but they forget that nature often has answers of its own."

With a loud crack he rips free the branch. It's a long, thick thing, with an elongated end and a smooth surface. Grinning like a fool, Topher pats it. "Now this little beauty is my weapon."

"It's a stick," I say flatly.

He wags a finger. "Ah, ah, ah! This is no an ordinary stick, rather, it's a sturdy stick."

It was then when I began to wonder if Topher was touched in the head. "Topher, look at what you're holding!" I try to keep the anger out of my voice, but I fail miserably. "Are you an idiot? What good do you think that will do against the Careers and their steel weapons?" It's not him whom I'm angry with, not really. I'm furious with this whole situation, with the Capitol for creating such despair and fear. What is the point of fighting? We're all going to die anyway.

"Emma, calm down," Bastien steps between me and the smaller boy. He has his sword resting over his shoulder. "Topher isn't an idiot. He knows that this stick isn't the best weapon, but it's the only thing he has."

"Bastien is correct," Topher says with a nod. "A stick, no matter how sturdy, is not my preferred weapon. Ideally I'd have a cleaver or, perhaps, one of those morning stars. They're really quite amazing. If you look at one close up--"

"Topher!" Bastien snaps his fingers and halts the boy mid-ramble. "You're getting off track again."

"Quite right, quite right. It's just that I'm prone to going off on these tangents. It's not everyday that you get to see things you've never seen before."

I laugh lightly. Sometimes Topher seems like a daft fool, other times he's just a curious boy who never got out much. Either way, going off on him isn't helping. But the weight of the situation is pressing heavily on me. Not just the physical ones; I haven't had anything to drink since the Games began, but the mental ones too. I can't close my eyes without worrying about if someone or something will leap out and attack me. You never know when someone will attack. You must always be on alert, always--

A large shapes pulls itself over the rocks and before I can even scream, Avan is upon us.

He swings a wicked half-moon axe for Bastien's head with alarming speed. Bastien throws himself to the side and howls in pain as the axe takes off the tip of his left ear. Blood streams down the side of his head as he wildly slashes his sword at Avan.

Avan is a large boy--no, man. For he is no boy. He's muscled like an ox and is just as big. He stands over six and a half feet tall and moves with surprising quickness for one his size. His dark hair is windswept, his strongly featured face grim as he goes about his butchers work. Avan isn't even a man: he's a beast of legend.

Avan's axe slams into Bastien's sword, ripping it from the shorter boy's grip. The steel weapon bounces along the smooth stones, clattering like the bones of the dead. Avan steps towards a horror-struck Bastien.

Then Topher springs forward. He raises his stick in the air and smashes it down across Avan's back. The wood snaps with a loud crack! The pieces go flying as Avan stumbles, dropping his axe as he sways on unsteady feet.

Topher's grin lasts only a second before Avan whirls around and sucker-punches him right in the gut. Topher's gasp sounds like the starting of a hovercraft as he doubles over in pain, falling to his knees.

I watch in silent shock, expecting him to finish Topher off. Instead, he backhands me so hard that I fly over the rocks and into the dirt of the forest. My face explodes with pain. Blood and dirt mix in my mouth. Everything is blurry. Tears sting my eyes. I force myself to my knees and crawl towards a nearby item.

Avan has regained his axe. He is descending on a weaponless Bastien. Topher cannot help. He's still lying on the ground, writhing and moaning in pain. Despite the hopelessness of the situation, Bastien faces Avan with courage. But he will die. Just like everyone I care about.

No. Not him. Not him. Not him!

My hands curl around the hilt of Bastien's sword and then I'm on my feet. Blood drips from my ruined mouth as I run forward and, with a shout of denial, thrust the sword through Avan's back.

The beast of a boy staggers, then looks down. The tip of the sword, glistening red with his blood, peeks out from between his ribs. He gurgles something unintelligible. Frothy red spittle flies from his lips. Then he falls.

There's only silence. Even Topher has stopped moaning. I stare down at the beasts body, wondering if it is truly dead. If Bastien is actually safe. I grab the hilt of the sword and pry it loose. There's a wet squelching sound it's pulled free. A cannon. Boom!

"You...you saved us, Emma!" Bastien sounds shaken as he shambles towards me. His eyes are fixed on the beasts corpse. "That was...amazing!"

I don't feel amazing. I feel cold. Hollow. Bastien almost died, but I saved him. He was different. I couldn't save Nadine or Cadence. I didn't save Elia or Nicholas. But I saved Bastien. Why is that?

Bastien begins to say something else, but I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him close. Dead. So close to being dead. And not yet safe. None of us are safe. Least of all him.

My sobs fill the eerie silence of the hot springs.

Luigi Iris (District 13)
Lilah and I roam the forest in solem silence. We've spent the day searching for our alliance, but so far have had little luck. It doesn't help that two cannons have already sounded. Two deaths. What if they were Jayda or Teddy? Or Jonah? What if two of our allies died? I cannot help but think I would be responsible for their deaths. I am their leader, I should be with them.

I look at Lilah as we push our way through a thick swath of underbrush. She hasn't said anything all day. At least sh hasn't had another outburst because of a flower, but being completely silent isn't much better. During training, even times when she wasn't speaking with any of us she still murmured to herself. But now she doesn't even do that. I'm worried that the stress of the Games has shattered her already fragile psyche.

"You okay?" I ask as I reach the end of the underbrush, waiting for her to join me.

She looks at me with those bright blue eyes of hers. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

I shrug. "Dunno. You've just been uncharacteristically quiet."

She doesn't say anything for a long moment, exiting the brush and picking brambles from her jacket. At first I don't think she'll even respond, but then she looks up. "I'm worried...just that...she's..."

I frown. She? I try thinking of any she's we might know, but I can only think of one. "Jayda? You're worried about Jayda?"

Lilah looks up sharply. I squirm a bit under her intense gaze, but for a long while she says nothing. Finally, she nods. "Yes...yes, that's it," She sounds rather uncertain of herself. "So quiet. Why is she...?"

I don't know how to respond to that, and luckily I don't have to. A quiet beeping alerts us to the silver parachute overhead, just barely visible through the thick bamboo clusters. For a moment I'm terrified that it will get stuck in the trees--I have no desire to climb these flimsy things. Thankfully, however, the parachute lands through an open gap in the trees.

It lands softly on a tussock of grass at Lilah's feet. She eyes it for a moment, then picks it up and hands it to me. "Has your name on it."

So it does. On the silver packaging, written in bold black letters are the words "Luigi Iris. I open the package, wondering what I was sent. Though neither Lilah or I got food or water from the bloodbath, we've managed to quench our thirst by drinking some small ponds we've found scattered around the forest. Food, however, has been much harder to come by.

Inside the package I find a handful of cookies. I recognize the type from the Capitol and my stomach growls as I pick one up and stick it in my mouth. I'm eating my second before I remember Lilah. "Here, you can have some," I offer her the package.

She just stares at it. "They're for you."

"Yes, but I'm offering some to you." Did she really expect that I would withhold food from her? What kind of person would do that?

"If you insist." She takes a single cookie and slowly begins to nibble it. As we eat, I wonder if now would be a good time to try and get to know Lilah better. Of all my allies, she's the one I know the least about.

"So, Lilah...what exactly-"

"I swear I saw the parachute land around here!" A voice cuts through the trees somewhere to my left. Instantly I'm crouched on the ground, head hidden behind fronds of a fern plant. Lilah slips behind a cluster of bamboo, knives already in her hands.

I watch through the gaps of the close-growing bamboo as shapes begin to approach. I catch a glimpse of yellow. Like my own jacket, but darker...

"Jayda! Teddy!" I shout with glee as I stand up. I should have recognized the voices right away!

"Luigi?" An incredulous Jonah comes bounding out from the thin bamboo, a cheery grin plastered on his face. "It's you! I can't believe it!"

Jayda emerges from the trees next, a serious look on her face and an axe in her hands. "I'm glad we found you," is all she says. Behind her, Teddy shifts around nervously with a large backpack strapped to him.

"We've been searching for you so long!" Jonah is obviously excited. His face is flushed red as he chest bumps me. "It's good to see you're safe, man. After we saw you fighting with Silve we thought--"

"Where's Lilah?" Jayda interrupts him. "Is she with you?"

"I'm here." The dark-haired girl sidles out from her hiding spot and stands awkwardly on the outskirts of our group.

"She was really worried about you," I tell Jayda.

"Who? Me?" Jayda turns to fix Lilah with a narrowed gaze. "I didn't know that I had come to garner such respect from her." Lilah merely mutters something incoherent. Her already pale face has gone deathly white as she stares at Jonah with what can only be called apprehension.

"Something wrong?" I ask her.

She doesn't answer. Her eyes still haven't left Jonah. By now, even he is frowning. I rub my forehead, wondering what it could be, when it hits me. "Your jacket!"

Jonah blinks. "My jacket?"

Quickly I explain our run in with the purple oleander and Lilah's reaction to the plant. Jonah's jacket, which is the customary District 9 lavender, is very similar to the color of that plant. I don't know why Lilah would react to it like this, but at least I know what was causing it.

"What kind of person is afraid of a color?" Jonah asks completely dumbfounded. Lilah blushes, but she also doesn't take her fearful expression off him.

"Just take it off," Jayda says with a hint of impatience.

"Take it off? That won't help. My shirt is the same color, you know." Right. Except for the colors, all of our outfits are exactly the same. While my shirt and jacket is yellow, Lilah's is olive, and Jonah's lavender.

"Wear mine," I slip my own jacket off and press it into Jonah's hands. The arena is slightly cold, but it's not anything unbearable. "Then just ditch your own."

"Still think this is stupid," Jonah grumbles but he does what we ask all the same. When he's finished, Lilah looks a little more relaxed. I'm just glad we could solve this problem so easily.

We spend most of the next hour catching each other up with our stories. Truth be told, neither group really had much of an exciting tale. Their biggest problem, as told by a shy and red-faced Teddy, was deciding on how much time they should spend on searching for Lilah and me.

Jonah seems to say that Jayda wasn't really interested in us, but she quickly rebukes that assessment. I don't know what to believe, but it doesn't matter anymore now that we're all together.

"We should put the past behind us," I say as Jonah and Jayda are about to fall into another squabble, "and focus on figuring out what our next move should be." The Gamemakers will expect us to try something big, now that we're together again.

"I thought you world know what to do," Jonah says.

"I value all ideas," I'm not a dictator. Everyone should have equal say.

"I think we should rest," Teddy doesn't look up from his feet as he speaks. "The other tributes will kill each other. Two have already died today." And I wonder who those two were. No doubt at least one was the victim of the Careers.

"Not a viable strategy," Lilah says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "The gamemakers would have a mutt army upon us if we just sat on our butts all day."

From there we fall into a conversation that goes nowhere. Half of us want to take action, the other half want to sit things out. I don't know what I want to do. Or, more aptly, what I should do. It seems like there's two wrong decisions for every right one. What is the safest course of action?

"Let's just wait and see for now," Jayda says. "It's already halfway through the day." As she says that, I look up. The sun is still hidden behind clouds, but the light it casts over the arena is now orange. It will be dusk soon.

I decide to use my leadership to end the discussion. "I second that. Let's just search for a good campsite for now. Hopefully we'll have some ideas by nightfall."

Carey Brand (District 12)
As night falls, the ominous forest is shrouded in almost complete darkness. I sit in the small, enclosed area surrounded by brambles and thorn bushes. I spent most of the day carving it out. It's a shelter for me to hide in, in the event someone comes calling. There's two exits. The main one and a small tunnel that I could squeeze through and escape out a back way, if necessary.

I stare out into the dark forest. Takeko is out there, scouting for danger and other tributes. She's useful. That's why she's not dead yet. In a few days time I'll stick a knife in her back, but for now she's helping me survive.

I wonder why I even bothering surviving.

Life is pointless. Worthless. Everyone dies in the end, only that, for some, the journey to death is a little more painful. It doesn't matter whether you deserve it or not. You die all the same. My brother Colt was the sweetest little boy. He was always kind and nice and treated everyone the same way. The bombs still killed him. They took my mother too. And my home. Everything.

Takeko has hopes for the future. You can see it in her eyes and the way she carries herself. She's a fool. Life will just kick her in the teeth and shove her back down, laughing. That's why she won't win.

I wonder if there's some tyrannical god out there purposely giving people hope just to rip it away and laugh at their despair. I hope so. It's better to think that someone is plotting all this then thinking it's just random. It is random, though. Meaningless. Everything is.

The forest sounds change slightly, then Takeko emerges from the shadows moments later. She thinks that she moves so quietly that no one will ever hear her coming. You don't have to hear her. You just need to listen for the wildlife around her. Thst often gives away anyone's approach.

"You're back," I say, crawling out of my alcove. Takeko turns to stare at me. Her long dark hair is tied behind her head and the freckles on her face are just barely visible in the faint moonlight. Not that you can see the moon. Just faint lines of its light that get through the tree canopy.

"Yes." Takeko squats down beside my shelter. She picks up a handful of dirt and lets it slide to the ground between her fingers.

"Find anything?"

"No." There's a pause as she watches the dirt completely empty out of her palm. "And yes. There's no tributes nearby, but I found some tracks indicating that some tribute passed through here recently."

"What about water?" The dryness of my mouth has matched the yearning for food in my stomach. One I can ignore better than the other.

Takeko shakes her head. "I found a small pond, but I do not trust anything in this place."

So by tomorrow it will be forty-eight hours since I last drank anything. I'm use to discomfort. To pain. This is nothing. Less than nothing. I can wait. But can Takeko? I watch the girl as she goes about gathering sticks. She seems to be someone use to comfort. But now how will she react when life kicks her while she's down?

"What are you doing?" I break the silence as she deposits a handful of the sticks on the ground and begins arranging them.

She doesn't even look up. "Building a fire, obviously."

"No!"

Her head shoots up, actual surprise flickering across her face at my outburst. "Why not? The canopy is so thick that I doubt the other tributes will see the smoke and even if they did see it, I'd welcome the opportunity to kill them."

Fire. Death. Destruction. Burning buildings. Black angels of death. Colt's body, charred almost beyond recognition. I shake my head vigorously. "No. No fire."

There's no surprise on Takeko's face any more. Just anger. "Do you think you can tell me what to do?" She asks, her voice low and cold. "Do you think I have to listen to you?"

"Only if you want to live."

Th effect of those words are instantaneous. She's on her feet in a second, the steel of her katana grating as she pulls it from her sheath. But I was expecting that. Before she can take a step towards me, I'm within her guard. The steel tip of my knife presses against her throat.

Takeko freezes. Her eyes slide down to observe the knife in my hand. Then she speaks, very slowly. "Where did you get that? You told me you received no weapons from the cornucopia."

"I didn't." I'm taller than her, but not by much. Our eyes are level as we stare at one another. Hers are dark and angry. Mine flat and impassive. "The knife is yours. I stole it before you went scouting."

"Why?"

"I thought you'd be angry if you came back with nothing. You might think to kill me, in your anger. I thought it best if I had a weapon to defend myself with." Takeko is impossible to predict. Especially when dehydrated and sleep deprived. The fool hardly slept at all last night. She was too worried I'd try and kill her in her sleep. As if.

"I thought you were my ally," There's no pain or sense of betrayal in her words. Just cold fury.

"Last I checked, you were the one who drew your weapon on me just because you didn't like what I said."

There's a flicker in eyes. Some sort of emotion I don't know. Finally she speaks. "Kill me if you want, just know that my sword would still cleave your head from your shoulders."

"I don't care if I die. Do you?"

She doesn't answer. But she doesn't have to. I can see it in her eyes. Despite all her bravado and fearsome appearance, Takeko Zhou is afraid to die. And just like that, I know I no longer need worry about her. Someone who is afraid of death is someone who doesn't know what it is to lose everything. Someone who could never do me real harm. Death isn't something to fear. It is a release.

I pull my knife away from her throat and toss it to the ground. "I'm still committed to this alliance if you are."

Takeko stares at me with narrowed eyes. "How do you expect me to trust you after that?"

"You never trusted me." Like how I never trusted her. I only ever allied with her because she could prove useful. And that fact still stands.

Takeko shifts her feet. She raises her katana, slightly, but just enough to draw attention to it. She could kill me without repercussion now. A part of me yearns for that. For her to swing that sword and take my head off. End my life. No one will miss me. No one missed Colt. No one cared about my dead mother. Kill me! End it! Send me to the sweet, peaceful nothingness!

Takeko raises her katana...then very deliberately sheaths it. "You will never steal from me again," Her voice is hard as iron as she snatches up the fallen knife. "The moment you even think about stealing from me your life is forfeit. Do you understand?"

I nod dully. I only ever needed that knife to make sure she knew to respect me. I never intended to do anything else with it. We stare at one another in silence before I break it. "I'm willing to stick with this alliance until the final eight. Are you?"

"That is fair enough," Takeko goes to sit at the base of a large tree. Her eyes stay locked on me. She won't hold to this agreement. She'll break it the moment it's no longer useful for her. I don't begrudge her that. I will so the same.

As the night goes on we sit in utter silence, wondering which one of us will kill the other first.

Armado Roynclaw (District 6)
I slump to the ground with a gasp, cradling my injured hand close to my chest. The fingers on my left hand are swollen and misshapen, a result of those metal balls Ash shot smashing into my hand. I open and close my palm, wincing at the pain that comes with the effort.

I suppose some people would just be glad that they escaped from the Careers alive, but I wish that I had gotten away unscathed. Any type of debilitating injury can be fatal here in the arena.

The gentle splashing of the hot springs is the only sound as I rest against the cold, smooth rocks. Faint moonlight trickles out from behind the clouds overhead. Silver light sparkles off the nearby pool. I like it here. Better than that dank forest, anyway.

I don't know where I was going when I ran from the Careers. My hand was hurting like all hell and my mind was spinning with panic. I didn't have a particular destination in mind and I just ran like mad. The colorful forest eventually gave away to a darker, more ominous one. There you could scarcely go more than a few feet before having to change route thanks to a thorn bush or briar patch. My jacket sleeves are torn from the times they got caught, and my arms covered in small scratches.

That forest was not a pleasant place. The very air was foreboding and I couldn't help but sense that there was something hiding in the shadows, waiting, watching me...

I flex my hand once more. The pain flares up again, as bad as ever. I grimace. Looks like I'll need to wield my spear with one hand for the time being. Not good. I don't like being handicapped, especially not in such a meaningful way.

My stomach growls and I grit my teeth. Lavender had the backpack that carried all our food and water. Not that we had much food. Just some berries we had collected from bushes. Still, they would be better than the nothing I have.

I let my gaze wander over the rocky landscape, shrouded in the darkness of night. I don't even want to think about how horrible being trapped in that ominous woods overnight would be. You probably wouldn't even be able to see your own feet. I'm glad I got out before nightfall.

But now I need to decide what happens next. Lavender and the Quell siblings are still out there. I could search for them, but I feel like that would be a fool's errand. I have no idea how big this arena is or where they would be. I just have to hope they're alright. I'm sure Lavender is; she's a smart girl, after all. That idiot Alpha might get her in trouble though.

I'm thinking about this when I first hear the scuttling noise. I sit up, cocking my head to the side as I try and locate it. It seems to be emanating from a nearby clump of rocks. But what is it? It's too gentle to be footsteps...

I stand up, picking up the spear with my good hand. I skirt around the rocks, pass the bubbling pool. The noise picks up the intensity. I'm suddenly not feeling very safe at all. Then I see it.

It climbs over the rocks with multiple thin legs, its small, pale head seemingly atop a pair of stalks. It pauses on the rock it grips with its three pairs of legs, staring at me with black little eyes.

"What the hell...?" It actually looks a little like a potato bug. A horrible, gigantic, disgusting potato bug.

The bug slips down the rocks, drawing closer to me. Instinctively I pull back, my spear already up to defend myself. I should just attack. When has there ever been a helpful mutt in the Games? But I don't know what this thing is capable of. I watch as it scuttles ever closer, then I can stand it no more. Before the creature begins to fully descend from the rocks, I slam the tip of my spear into its abdomen.

Instantly the creature explodes with a vibrant orange fluid. It splatters across the rocks and, everywhere it lands, small flames suddenly roar to life. I pull back, startled beyond belief. Fire? The bug bleeds fire? What the hell!

I'm so stunned by the sudden revelation that for a few seconds I don't even notice that my own spear is on fire.

Crackling flames swirl around the steel tip, reaching up along the wooden shaft. Just as they're nearing a quarter the way up, I plunge my spear into the pool. The water hisses and bubbles as the flame is extinguished.

I cautiously pull the spear back out. The afflicted wood is blackened and a little charred, but it seems to have held up. Likewise for the steel tip. I can just imagine the problems I'd have if I lost my only weapon.

My relief is short lived. Just as the flames around me begin to sputter out due to the lack of fuel, I hear a familiar scuttling sound. I whip around just in time to see two more of the bugs clambering over the rockpile.

The closest bug pulls its head back and spews a glob of the orange fluid. I dance out of the way, feeling the heat of the glob as it passes by me. Then the Spewers are charging me. They move so fast that I don't even have time to think. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my left, I take my spear in both hands and swing it horizontally at the bugs. It connects with a solid Thwack!. One of the bugs goes flying, its disgusting little body dropping into the pool with a splash.

The night air is filled with its screeching death throes as it gets boiled alive.

The other Spewer launches itself at me. It crashes against my chest, bowling me over with more strength then I thought it had. My spear goes flying as my head smacks against the ground. The Spewer clambers up my chest, pincers snapping as they reach for my throat.

I get my hands underneath the creature and hurl it off me. It hits the ground at a roll but is only off balance for a second. Soon it is back on its many feet, chittering furiously as it resumes the attack.

I push myself back up, knees scraping against the rocky ground. I hear rather than see the next glob of liquid as the bug spews it at me. I duck my head down. I feel the faintest sensation of singed hair. Then I'm scooping up a stone the size of my fist, turning around, praying that I'm not too late.

The Spewer opens it gaping maw for another attack. I wind up my arm and heave the stone.

The Spewer's head explodes in a shower of orange liquid. The darkness suddenly explodes with dazzling light, all the small pools of liquid bursting to life. Some of it splatters against my jacket and I'm forced to tear it off and beat it against the stones to kill the flames. Slowly but surely the fires die down. Cold stone is not conductive for infernos.

Soon, there is nothing but silence.

I pick the up spear with my good hand and lean my weary body against it, waiting for the next attack. It doesn't come. I sit in the cold, dark silence for several minutes, wondering if that was all of the buggers. No. There's much more of them out there. But I won't see anymore. Not tonight.

Still, I don't want to remain in the area. All that noise and light might have attracted unwanted attention. Better to get away, to scuttle into the shade of darkness and wait for dawn.

I do just that, wondering all the while whether Lavender was attacked by flame spewing bugs too.

Harley Paramour (District 2)
The pain never goes away. No matter how much time passes, how many activities I take, or whatever dangers I survive, the pain of losing Tate tears into my heart like a jagged shard of glass.

Compared to that, the throbbing in my leg is a mere nuisance. Aphrodite and I sit around a small circle of stones. A small fire crackles inside the circle, the flames kept off the wooden deck by the stones. Night has long since fallen and the arena is caked in darkness. Pompeii and the others have yet to return.

"You may eventually have an entire collection of scars on your leg," Aphrodite says as she watches me apply disinfectant to wound. I recall Zamara driving an arrow tip into my thigh. It could have been worse. More than just the very tip could have pierced the skin. That would have been bad.

"I have my fair share of scars," I reply softly. I'm thinking of Tate and Blair again. I can't seem to stop thinking about them. And despite the pain it brings, I don't want to stop thinking about them.

"Hopefully the others won't notice it." We had decided not to mention the Zamara incident to anyone else. They would think us weak for letting a tribute best us in a fight and steal some valuable supplies. It doesn't help that they already know we failed to kill Corin at the bloodbath.

"They won't. And if do, I'll just tell them it's from Corin's sword." That wouldn't be a lie. My leg has already gained two wounds in the same amount of days. If this keeps up, I should expect to have the whole thing hacked off.

I doubt the pain would be equal to losing Tate.

We don't speak for the next hour or so. I'm too wrapped up in my thoughts of Blair and my father. My only hope of getting him back is to win, but don't know if that is possible. I've already been defeated in battle twice, and that was with Aphrodite helping me. What chance will I have against the likes of Silve or Pompeii? Nylah or Surorian?

When I'm certain that the Anthem can't be much more than an hour off, the other finally make their return.

Pompeii leads the way across the western spoke, laughing and grinning jovially. Silve stands stone-faced at his side. Mario and Ash follow behind, lighting the way with flashlights. None of them look injured or upset, so I imagine that the hunting must have gone well.

Aphrodite and I help take the crate barrier down as the rest pour into camp. "Alpha is dead!" Pompeii lets out a gleeful shout the moment he reaches the cornucopia. "I killed him myself!"

I feel like I'm supposed to applaud this statement but all I can manage is a weak smile. Alpha had a sister, a little girl who was only twelve. I know that the two of them must have been together..."Who was the other death?" I ask, imagining the girl's broken body.

Pompeii shrugs. "Dunno. We didn't kill them."

I'm guilty for the relief that washes over me. I know that only one person can win, but it feela good knowing that my allies, people I've grown to respect, haven't murdered a little girl.

Yet.

"The second death must have been someone weak," Mario says as she and Silve head over to the weapon pile. Sudden fear grips my heart as Silve rummages through it. Will he notice that the bow Zamara stole is missing?

After a few seconds Silve claims a sword from the pile and walks back to the group. I breath a small sigh of relief.

"I bet Surorian made the kill," Pompeii talks about death and killing as if it's something inconsequential as the weather. "Or some other strong loner. I wouldn't be surprised if a Fool was dead."

Not much else happens after that. Pompeii explains how he and Ash followed after Armado but lost his trail in the ominous woods. "That place is a death trap," he says with a deep frown.

"There's something unnatural 'bout it," Ash agrees.

They spent a decent amount of time just trying to find their way back out. Once they did, they felt the need to regroup with Mario and Silve before heading back to the cornucopia. That explains why it took until nearly midnight for them to return.

"What about you guys?" Pompeii asks once he's finished. "Anything interesting happen while we were gone?"

Don't look at Aphrodite. Don't look at her. I repeat this silent mantra as I shake my head. "Nope. We just counted the supplies."

"Silve is going to need to go easy on the swords," Aphrodite says with a small smirk at the boy. "We only have two extras now." I almost punch her. Why is drawing attention to our weapon situation? If the others examine the weapons more closely, they might notice what Zamara stole...

"At least I'm putting my weapons to use," Silve grunts without ever turning to look at the girl. "You had a sword and shield, yet still lost to that District 5 girl."

Aphrodite's face flushes red and she opens her mouth to snap off a retort when I grip her elbow. She turns to face me and I shake my head. Getting into arguments with our allies will not help. Especially not when it comes time to turn on one another.

That's what I'm afraid of most. When the numbers dwindle and it comes time to kill one another, who will I trust? Not Silve, that's for sure. Mario seems like she already wants to plant a knife in each of our backs. Ash is a wildcard. Pompeii too righteous. I even have my doubts about Aphrodite. She's too rash, too prone to reckless decisions. Plus, if it came down to her choosing between me or Pompeii, I know that I would not be the one chosen.

I miss Tate. I could trust him with anything. He would always back me up, always be there for me.

As the others look for places to sleep, I stare into the flames of the fire and reminisce over what I've lost.

Teddy Bridges (District 3)
I don't like forests. Before the Games I'd never even see one, yet alone been inside one. I don't know where you're supposed to get water, what you can eat, or what wants to eat you. I don't know anything about it.

It's cold. Quiet. Unkind. The trees grow thick and tall, they soar far above my head. I'm use to being surrounded by dirty tenements and smoky factories, but they never blocked out the sky like the trees do here. I can't even see any stars. There were always a few stars in District 3. Here, there are none.

"This seems good enough a place as any," Luigi says with a smile as our walking ends in a tiny glade. We come from the south and trees grow thick to the east and west, but the north ends in a wall of stone. "We could even afford a fire. The trees will keep the smoke from being seen."

I don't know what to make of Luigi. I like him, but I don't know. He's always so cheerful, no matter the situation. Does he not care? Or is he just confident enough to know he won't die? How could anybody be that confident? I'm worried that anything will kill me at any time.

"I suppose that you're right," As Jayda stands in the faint moonlight, hands on her hips and long brown hair hanging around her face, she has never looked more like my sister. She's not Nora, I know that. But Nora isn't here with me. Jayda is. She'll protect me. I know it. She'll protect me from anything.

"That wall will provide some decent sleeping," Jonah says as he runs a hand across the smooth surface. "There's even an alcove here." I don't like Jonah. He's got an easy charm about him and looks no different than any other face in the crowd, but there's something unsettling about him. There's a feverish light in his eyes when he talks about our alliance, as if it's the most important thing in the world to him. For some reason that level of devotion frightens me.

Little is said as we prepare our "camp". We don't have any tents or blankets so the only thing that really sets this apart from the rest of the forest is the fire that Luigi and Jayda build. It's a small, crackling thing fueled mostly by fallen branches, but it provides a decent amount of warmth.

I find myself crouching close to it as Jayda warms some soup. The forest is cold and chilly. I founs myself shivering often throughout the night. I'm glad we now have a fire.

As Jayda tends to the soup I just sit back and relax. Jonah and Luigi sit near the stone wall, chatting quietly. Lilah stits on the very edge of the light cast by the fire, her blue eyes twinkling eerily. Of all my allies, Lilah frightens me the most.

She seemed so nice back during training. But since then I've begun to notice some...peculiarities. Oftentimes I see her talking to herself or staring off into the distance. Sometimes she stares at me. Her blue eyes gaze right through my soul. She rarely speaks.

When the soup is finished Jayda has us all eat. We don't have any bowls so we all have to share from the canister. Luigi suggests that I and Jonah eat first so we do. Jonah laughs and tears off a chunk of bread to dip in the broth, explaining all the different types he's seen. I just quietly eat my share and retire to the side for the rest to finish.

The first strain of the Anthem begins just as Luigi drains the last bit of the soup. We gather around the edge of the glade and stare up through the gap in the trees as Avan's face takes to the sky.

Jonah gives a low whistle. "Did not expect what. Who do you think killed him?"

"Careers, most likely," Jayda mutters darkly. I shiver. Avan was a literal giant. If the Careers can kill him, what chance do we have against them?

The face that follows his has even Luigi shocked. Alpha's grim expression scowls down at upon us. "They were both huge threats," Jayda sounds confused more than anything else. "How did they both die so early?"

"Maybe they killed each other," Lilah suggests.

Luigi shakes his head. "I doubt that was it. Maybe the Careers got them both, or mutts did. Possibly an alliance snuck up on one of them." None of those options reassure me. Mutts? That sounds positively awful. What kind of mutt would it take to bring down Avan?

"Only Alpha died," Jayda says as the Anthem fades and we're thrown back into silence. "So his allies survived whatever killed him."

"They could have been split up after the bloodbath like us," Jonah is quick to point out. "Does anyone remember seeing them?"

I don't remember a thing about the bloodbath. It was too chaotic and frightening. But Luigi thinks that he might have seen them as he was fleeing. "But I'm not sure," he says with a frown, "I didn't exactly have time to examine everyone thoroughly."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Jayda says briskly. "We have other things to worry about. Now lets decide who gets first watch..."

I end up drawing fourth watch, after Jonah's shift. Luigi is the first to stand guard so the last thing I see before drifting off is his back as he positions himself to gaze out into the forest.

In what feels like mere minutes I'm being shook awake. Jonah crouches beside me, his face masked in shadow. "It's time for your shift, buddy," He whispers before disappearing into the darkness.

I lie still for a long moment, my head still cloudy with sleep. Then I slowly rise, stretching out my limbs one by one. The forest is completely dark. The only light comes from the faint remains of our fire, smoldering gently in the ashes.

For a long moment I just sit there staring into the ashes. Then I realize that this isn't exactly "standing guard", so I scramble to my feet and cast my gaze around the forest. I've never seen anything so dark before. Even at night, there were always lights on in the city. And you could see the stars. I don't know why I have such a desire to see stars, but their absence weighs heavily on my mind. I hope I see some before I die. I'd like that.

It's not until I feel myself slumping against a tree do I realize that I'm drifting off to sleep. No! I can't slack off, not on this duty. I pinch myself as I rise, shake my head to clear it, and do a few jumping jacks. All this makes me a lot less sleepy, but also makes me feel stupid.

None of the others had to resort to such juvenile tactics to stay awake. Just another reason why I'm inferior. I'm just dragging us down. They could probably do better without me. I'm just a stupid, worthless coward.

I watch the others as they sleep. Jayda lies close to the fire, probably a result of her constant tossing in her sleep. Jonah and Luigi sleep in tiny alcoves set in the wall; soft snores emanate from Luigi. Lilah sleeps on the far edge of camp. She lies on her side, back to me. How can they all be so fearless? I'm terrified to the bone. If anything were to attack, I'd flee before fighting. What a disappointing Anti-Career I am.

I set myself to my duty. I take up position near a tree stump near the western edge of the camp and stare out into the darkness, trying not to imagine terrible things lurking in it. I bet no one else has this problem.

Suddenly I hear the faint sounds of movement. Of clothing rustling in the wind, of feet stepping softly upon the grass. One of the others must have woken up. I'm about to turn and greet them when a hand clamps itself over my mouth and I feel cold steel press itself into my throat.

Lilah Jollenback (District 8)
My dreams are full of blackness and lilacs. I walk alone through a wide forest, shadows writhe on the edge of my vision, constantly changing and always flitting out of sight when I turn to look at them.

They are not there, but they are always there. I have no choice but to move ever onwards, and so I do. I see faces before me. Ashton. My father. Violet's. I feel cold. Sick. Something is hunting me, so I run. But I can't run fast enough.

Two shapes emerge from the shadows, trapping me. They're dressed entirely in soft leather the color of lilac and smell of lavender. I stop running and try to fight. Useless. The first assassin throws me to the ground and the second uses his sickle to take off my head.

I wake up in a cold sweat. My heart throbs with fear as the dark memories of my dream swirl in my mind. Ashton was there. His face lingers in my mind, sweet and lovable. I try to keep it there, but I cannot.

All my pleasant memories fade away.

I lay my head back on the ground, feeling the cold sweat of my shirt against my back. The dreams are no matter. Not here. Not in the arena. I stare into the sky, at the faint lines of light that suggests dawn is not far off.

Violet hasn't spoken to me since the Games began. I don't know why. She was a constant in my life, something that was always with me. But now she's gone. It frightens me. Why would she leave me now, of all times? Does she know that my death is imminent?

I hear a faint whirring sound somewhere in the sky. It sounds vaguely familiar. I sit up and cast my gaze around our campsite. The fire has completely gone out and is now nothing more than a pile of ashes. My allies are all still asleep. Something about that isn't right, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Then it hits me. No one is on guard duty.

I bolt to my feet and that's when I see it. A body lying not more than a dozen feet from our campfire.

Above, in the space between trees, a hovercraft slowly sends down a claw. I'm oddly calm as I realize that the hovercraft is the source of the whirring sound.

Someone shouts. I turn and see Jayda as she scrambles up from her feet and charge towards the prone body. Her shouts wake Luigi and Jonah and the two boys stumble around the campsite, rubbing their eyes. "What happened?" Jonah asks sleepily.

Wordless, I point at Teddy's body.

Jayda is crouched beside the dead boy, checking him for wounds. The hovercraft has noticed our presence and halted the claw. It hangs ominously over our heads. Luigi takes a step forward, but then stops. "Who...how..."

"He was killed while on guard duty," Jonah says softly. His face is a mask of horror. "I-I was the one who woke him for his shift. He..."

"Someone slit his throat," Jayda's voice is pained as she stands up. Sorrow lines her features and her eyes are watery. "But whoever killed him didn't kill us." She tucks a small item into her pocket.

"Why...why wouldn't they kill us?" Jonah asks. It's a good question. If they had managed to kill our guard without waking the rest of us, why would they have left us alive? We were asleep and defenceless. Easy kills.

Luigi voices my own thoughts, then we fall silent. Jayda kneels back beside Teddy's body. "I'll protect your sister," She whispers to him. "I promise you that. And I'll find your killer. They will not go unpunished." Then she turns back to us. The claw dips down to collects Teddy, and then the hovercraft is gone as swiftly as it came.

"There's only one reason why the killer would have spared us," Jayda says when it is gone. Her eyes are cold and hard as ice. "And that's because one of us was the killer."

There's silence as this startling truth sinks in. One of us. A killer. One of us betrayed the others trust and murdered Teddy. But who?

Luigi has always seemed overly cheery. All the death and despair has failed to faze him. Is that because he's really a stone-cold killer? And Jonah. I never thought he was particularly sane, but Teddy's tale about how erratic he acted when Luigi and I were missing paints him in a negative light. But I can't forget Jayda. She may be trying to throw the scent off herself by implicating the others. No one would suspect she'd kill Teddy, that's why it's exactly what she would do.

"That's insane," Luigi shakes his head. "Do you really think that one of us killed Teddy?"

"Yes." Jayda looka at each of us in turn, her eyes cold seekers of truth. It was not me. I did not kill Teddy. I know that for fact. I know--

Are you sure of that?

With a single sentence, Violet destroys me. My confidence shatters, my legs grow as weak as jelly. Violet is not gone. She is still with me. And I remember how she can take control of me.

''Oh, you remember, do you? To be frank, I thought you'd forget. You always were unimaginably stupid.'' My breaths come in short ragged bursts. Sweat builds in my palms. I didn't kill Teddy, did I? No. No, I couldn't have. I'm always aware when Violet takes over. I can see the things she makes me do. I would know. I would.

Just keep telling yourself whatever helps you sleep at night! Sleep. Sleep. What if I was sleep walking? Would I still be aware of Violet if she took over then? Yes. I would. I know I would. I did not kill Teddy. I did not.

Jayda is saying something. I don't know what. I can't focus. Too many variables. Too many things to mistrust. One of my allies might have killed Teddy. Or I might have. I don't know. I don't know...

What do I believe?

Auric Venture (Gamemaker)
The meeting was boring. Again. Auric leaned back in his chair, his feet resting atop the deep mahogany table. The other Gamemakers were blabbing about the day's plans and whatnot. Everything they were plotting was predictable. Not an ounce of ingenuity among them. Probably. Auric didn't actually pay enough attention to know what they were saying.

The betting lines, though, now that was something Auric was paying keen attention to. Alpha and Avan both were huge betting favorites and their deaths left some very surprised and very poor people. Auric himself hadn't bet a thing on either of them; which was why he was so happy that they were dead.

With their deaths Silve now had the highest odds. And why wouldn't he? The Careers are a tight-knit group filled with some of the toughest tributes left in the arena. If the group were to keep itself together, Silve would almost be guaranteed a spot in the final eight. Especially since none of the other Careers could best him in a fight. Pompeii would have stood a chance before he lost his hand, but now...

Well, Auric could understand why people were betting so heavily on Silve. Not him though. Auric had placed his money--or most of it, anyways. Auric didn't believe in putting all his eggs in one basket--on Nylah. The girl was sneaky strong and more than capable of winning these Games. Last night was just further proof of that.

Nylah had managed to sneak into the Anti-Careers camp and kill the District 3 male without any of his allies noticing. She probably would have been able to kill them all if she hadn't fled at the sound of the boys cannon. Auric didn't know for sure why she ran, but he supposed it must have been because she thought that the cannon would wake the boys allies. Nylah was smart. She'd never have been able to kill all four at once. Of course, the cannon didn't end up waking the others so Nylah very well could have ended the entire alliance there and then.

Nylah was actually the reason why the Gamemakers were meeting so early in the morning. With the boy's death, his allies were in the midst of accusing one another of his murder and fireworks might explode at any moment. The day's plan needed to be set before anything too big happened.

Auric was sipping his wine when Tarik suggested that they unleash one of their Class-S mutts into the arena.

He coughed, spilling his wine down the front of his silken shirt. The rest of the Gamemakers turned to look at him, thir expressions ranging from surprise to disgust. Only Marquis spoke, however. "Is something wrong, Auric?"

"You're damn right it is!" Auric swung his feet off the table and stood up. "You won't use the Nahual, but you'll authorize a Class S? That's absurd!" Class S muttations were the most dangerous of all mutts created. Over the years only a handful had ever been used in the Games.

"The Nahual is completely different from any other mutt, including Class S ones," Tarik explained patiently. Or a faked patience, at least. "They have failsafes, weaknesses, things we can use against them in case something goes wrong. The Nahual has none of that."

Auric didn't buy that explanation. "The Nahual could hardly pose a threat to anyone outside the arena. And yes, it doesn't have a failsafe, but I don't think one is necessary. Unlike a Class S, the Nahual is not a creature of mass destruction. It is much more...subtle."

"Do you really think we should be using a mutt that is smart enough to name itself?" Edgar Idylwyld actually seemed more curious then outraged. Auric thought that he might actually have a chance of convincing the man.

"Why not? We've had speaking mutts before."

"Yes, but not thinking ones. We will not--" Tarik began to shut down the argument when a new voice cut him off.

"We shall use the Nahual."

Everyone feel silent as he strode into the room. He was tall and pale-skinned, his hair jet-black and expertly styled. His clothes were of the newest Capitol fashion; an emerald green coat emblazoned with his family crest over a ruffled silk shirt the color of cream, and a pair similarly coloured pants. He wore a golden half-cape clasped by a silver hand across his shoulders.

Noctis Stryker. Head Gamemaker.

"Sir!" Tarik could not hide his surprise. Auric smiled, pleased that something had finally broken the man's icy calm. "This is a surprise, I had not expected--"

"I am Head Gamemaker. Why is it a surprise that I would attend my own meetings?" Noctis Stryker didn't sit down, instead opting to remain standing, so that he towered over them all. "You would do well not to gape like that. It makes you look imbecilic."

Tarik snapped his mouth shut, his eyes glowering with fury. His family was House Valii, and no one had probably ever spoken to him like that before. Auric pitied the tributes; Tarik would likely take his anger out on them.

There was a long silence and, when it became apparent that Noctis was not about to speak, Francisco Wells did so instead. "Sir, may I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

Auric chortled softly. Ah, he did so much love to see the others set in their place! "Sir, I believe that you said that we would...ah, use the Nahual. I must have misheard you because--"

"You did not mishear. The Nahual shall be used." Auric felt a grin spread across his face. Oh, this was just too sweet! Noctis continued on, "I have had enough of your dithering. The Nahual shall be used, and it shall be unleashed upon the arena today."

There was another long silence as everyone turned to look at one another. Clearly none of them were pleased, but it did not matter one iota whether they were or not. Noctis Stryker was Head Gamemaker and the brother of the President. What he said was law.

"Today? We will need proper--"

"Handle all the necessary matters. A tribute shall suffice. And make sure that there are cameras watching. I want the viewers to see it take form." Noctis Stryker turned and strode out of the room, his half-cape flapping behind him. Once he was gone, Marquis leaned forward, running a hand through his thinning hair.

"My goodness. I did not expect that!"

"Was this your doing, Auric?" Edgar peered at him over steepled fingers. "Did you suggest this idea to our Head Gamemaker?"

Auric feigned non-chalance as he took another sip of wine. "Mayhaps." That was a lie. Auric had no contact with Noctis Stryker since the bloodbath meeting, yet alone enough sway to plant an idea into the man's head. Still, Auric felt that he deserved some credit. He did come up with the idea first, after all. What did it matter if Noctis Stryker later had the same thought?

Auric noticed that none of the others had moved since Noctis' departure. That needed to change. "What are you all waiting for? You've been given your orders; now get them done!" As everyone else climbed to their feet and bustled their posts, Auric sat back and smiled. He might just enjoy the early portion of the Games after all.

Lilah Jollenback (District 8)
We've been awake since well before dawn.

Hours have passed since the hovercraft claimed Teddy's body, yet his death still weighs heavily on us all. Jayda hasn't spoken since her shocking proclamation that one of us was the killer; she's been sitting in silent contemplation, staring at the trees with a blank expression.

Morning light wafts through the tree-tops, illuminating our small clearing. Birds call cheerfully to one another and I spot the occasional squirrel hopping past. I ignore them. I've long since tucked myself into a corner of the stone alcove. I may not have been the one to kill Teddy, it may have been Violet, but that doesn't matter. I am the vehicle for Violet. Her vessel. She would not be able to do anything without me.

I'm content to just sit here, to let the others worry about this stupid game and the other kids who play it. But Luigi isn't kind enough to leave me alone.

He's striking in his arena uniform, like a golden fiber of wheat. His eyes are warm above his high cheekbones, but his pale face gives away his discomfort. He sits on his haunches across from me for several minutes before reaching over to grab my hand. I try to pull away, but he holds on until I look at him.

"This is the game that we play," He says, his voice soft yet hard. "Death is a given. Only one person will live; the rest will all die. But if we give in to despair, where does that leave us?"

I want to tell him to save his breath. I know more about death and despair than he ever will. But I do not want to tell him that. I don't want to tell him anything. So I just nod and thank him for his kind words. When he walks away, I wonder if he was the one who killed Teddy.

It could be any one of them, Violet speaks inside my head. She hasn't shut up all day. ''And you might be next. Do you really trust any of them?''

I trust them more than I trust Violet. But I don't tell her that. Talking to her gives her more confidence. I've been more than content to just ignore her. I think it upsets her to have no one to talk with.

Luigi is talking with Jonah now. The boy from District 9 has been throwing dirty looks my way all day. He believes I killed Teddy, that much is obvious. But what will he do about it? If he attacks me, I will have no choice but to kill him. And that would only give Luigi and Jayda cause to hate me. I could just take all my stuff and leave, but then all three of them will be convinced I killed Teddy. I see no safe road here.

Jayda is approaching me. I watch as she walks through the grassy knoll, passing Luigi and Jonah as they engage in conversation. What does she want? I don't say anything as she stands over me.

"Lilah," Her voice is thick with grief and...determination? "I need to speak with you. Luig and Jonah too, but they're busy right now."

"I see." I don't see. What could she have to say? Is she going to accuse someone? Oddly, I don't find myself upset at the idea of Jayda accusing one of the boys. If one of them is guilty, then it means Violet and I are not.

"We need to talk privately," Jayda puts emphasis on that last word and it gives me pause. Privately? Who is there to overhear? In fact, now that I think about it, Jayda is practically whispering. Why?

She is going to betray you

Violet makes the decision for me. I stand up, dusting off my hands. "Let's go," I tell her.

Jayda leads the way through a thicket of bamboo, into a small enclosed space that puts us uncomfortably close. Jayda could slip a knife between my ribs, if she wanted. An easy kill. But Violet doesn't trust her, and that's as good a reason as any to think she's trustworthy.

"What is it?" I ask. "Why all the secrecy?"

Jayda's face twitches and she runs a hand through her hair. "I couldn't afford having the Gamemakers overhear. There's something I need to tell you, something important..."

Kill her. Violet's voice speaks in my head as Jayda trails off, staring into the distance with a curious look. She seems greatly preoccupied, her mouth hanging half-open, her eyes too wide and unblinking.

My hand twitches toward the knife at my belt.

No! I scream at Violet, jerking my hand away from the knife. Fear is taking over as I feel that all too familiar sensation. I am losing control. Violet is taking over. ''Don't kill her! Do the opposite of that!''

''Oh? You want me to do the opposite of kill?'' Violet sounds smug. Never a good sign. So...You want me to love her?

Before I know it, Violet has full control of my body. She steps toward Jayda, whose still staring at something I cannot see. ''Don't kill her! Don't kill her!'' I repeat the mantra in my head, hoping desperately that it'll work.

Violet stops right next to Jayda. Then she does something completely unexpected. She leans forward and kisses Jayda full on the mouth.

Jayda freezes for a moment, completely taken back. Then she snaps out of her stupor and rapidly pulls away. "What the--Why did you--what..." She stumbles over her words, staring at me--Violet--with wide, shocked eyes.

I groan to myself, suddenly afraid that I will die of embarrassment. Inside my head, Violet chuckles.

"You have such beautiful eyes, Jayda," Violet has me say, placing a hand against Jayda's right cheek and running it down to her collarbone.

Jayda swats the hand away. "What has gotten into you, Lilah? This is..."

''It's not me! I'm not doing this!'' I scream the words as loud as I can, but as always when Violet is in control, no one else can hear them. I change tactics, trying to appeal to the one person who can hear me. ''Violet! Stop this! Please!''

''Why would I do that? You yourself told me to love her...''

"This is why you brought me here, is it not?" Violet gestures at the small, enclosed space. "You didn't want to be overhead, so you brought us here..."

"You misunderstand me," Jayda's voice is as hard as steel. Her eyes could melt through rock. "I did not bring you here because of any sort of affection I feel towards to you. I merely intended to tell you that--"

Violet opens her mouth to say something else, something that will undoubtedly mortify me or embarrass me--

No. I won't do any of that. Violet is pleased with herself. Too pleased. But maybe I'll tell her who killed Teddy... That's the final straw. I can no longer control myself. Before I even know it, I'm screaming at Violet.

"No! No! Shut up! Go away! I hate you! I HATE you! I don't want you in my life! I never did! Go away! Leave me alone! JUST GO AWAY!"

Jayda stumbles away from me, shocked and repulsed. Too late do I realize my mistake. Violet had given up control. I didn't scream at Violet. I screamed at Jayda.

"What's going on?" Luigi's voice cuts through the trees and Jayda stumbles out to meet him. Jonah is right on his heels. "Jayda? What happened?"

Jayda launches into an explanation as I approach the trio, my face flushed a bright red. None of them will trust me. They might just kill me. They might try and kill me right now. As Jayda goes on, I can see the disbelief on Luigi's face and the bewildered anger on Jonah's. Inexplicably I feel the need to step in.

"You don't understand!" The words come tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them. I find myself telling them everything. From my parents to Ashton, from my life to Violet. Especially Violet. Each word is slurred together as it pours out my mouth so I don't know how much any of them actually understand. But by the time I'm finished, I am greeted only by a shocked silence.

"She's insane!" Jonah is the first to speak. He shakes his shaggy brown head, as if trying to make sense of things. "Completely and utterly insane! She killed Teddy too, no doubt."

My heart is beating so fast that I can hear it in my ears. What will they do? Luigi gives me a look that is full of pity. "I...think she's just confused."

"Come off it!" Jonah is shouting now. He's almost hysterical. "She just admitted that there are voices in her head and that they make her do things! What further proof do you need?"

"There's only one voice," I try weakly, but Jonah drowns me out.

"Teddy was a good person. He followed the law. He was kind. He never purposely hurt anyone. He was innocent. And she killed him! She lied to us! Betrayed us! Manipulated us!"

"Calm down!" Jayda snaps at him, one hand on her axe, the other pressed against her forehead. "I'm trying to think!"

Jonah rounds on her, his blue eyes shining with a fanatical fury. "Think about what? You claim to be Teddy's friend, yet his murderer is standing right in front of you and you're doing nothing!"

"Jonah, I know how you feel, but you're not thinking rationally," Luigi puts a hand on the boy's shoulder but he savagely swats it away.

"No. No, I'm the only one thinking rationally. Lilah needs to die. And if you won't do it, then I will!"

Jonah acts swiftly. He grabs Luigi's sword by the hilt, ripping it away from the taller boy as he whirls around to face me. His face is contorted with rage and grief as he charges, screaming wildly.

I act without thinking. I duck under his swing, one hand pulling the out the knife I keep in my sleeve. Jonah stumbles from the momentum and then his rage turns to confusion as my blade takes him between the ribs.

"You must not have been listening to me," I watch as bloody spittle dribbles through his lips. "I told you that I was an assassin."

I rip the knife back out. Jonah dies. His body slumps to the ground with nary a sound. Luigi and Jayda are watching me with shocked faces. Or maybe they're just seeing me for what I really am. I knew that allies were a bad idea. It could only end one way.

I become aware of an unimaginable heat and, when I turn around, I see that the forest is on fire. Flames wrap around the slender bamboo trees, crackling and reaching out with burning fingers.

Luigi reaches down to pick up the sword Jonah stole. He will try and kill me. I am trapped between him and Jayda and the inferno. I have to fight my way out. Fight or kill.

I turn around and sprint towards the flames.

Luigi Iris (District 13)
Lilah turns and flees into the inferno. She weaves between flaming trees as she goes, quickly disappearing from sight. I watch her go with a sick feeling in my gut. She killed Jonah. Probably Teddy too. She lied to us, manipulated us. What else was she keeping from us?

"Luigi!" Jayda is shaking my elbow. Her voice is barely audible over the din. "We need to go! Luigi, the fire is spreading too quickly!"

I snap back into focus. I don't have time to wonder about Lilah. Nor time to mourn Jonah. I look down at his corpse with pity. He deserved better. But what can I do? There's no way I could catch up with Lilah, especially not when the forest is on fire.

Jayda is already running, so I follow suit. Everything looks the same when it is on fire, so I don't know which way we're running. Overhead a branch crackles and bursts from the heat, burning sap splatters across the path before us.

Jayda comes to a screeching halt. "This is spreading far too quickly. It must be a Gamemaker trap!"

"Does it matter?" My head is hurting. My heart pounding. The flames are creeping ever closer and I know that at any moment they may be upon us. "We need to get mov--"

Craaack!

A tree comes crashing down, a shower of sparks thrown into the air as it smashes into the ground. My skin burns as the sparks land on my exposed forearms. I stumble away, coughing as smoke invades my lungs.

Where is Jayda? The thought crosses my mind as I fall to my knees not more than a dozen feet from the collapsed tree. Tears sting my eyes from the smoke as I cast my gaze around the forest. There is nothing to see but the sinister orange glow of the flames.

I want to look for her but I can't. The flames creep ever closer as I get back onto my feet and take off sprinting.

Everything is a blur as I run. I've seen flaming forests in other games enough to know that nothing good comes from being trapped inside one. I need to get out--and get out fast.

Something blindsides me and I land hard on my shoulder. I struggle getting up, but when I do I spot the brown haired girl as she climbs to her own feet. For a moment I think she's Jayda, but then I notice that the jacket is wrong and I recognize the girl for who she really is.

Nylah.

"You started this fire!" Anger boils over inside me as my sword slashes out. Nylah dances around my swing, the blade passing inches from her nose.

"Shut up. I didn't start anything," The girl is light on her feet. She avoids two more slashes and then there's pain in my shoulder as a knife slices through it.

I scream and aim a furious slash to my side but the girl has already moved. My sword hits nothing but empty air.

She shouldn't be winning this fight. She only has a knife. I have a sword. I have the longer reach. But reach is meaningless if you can't hit your target.

Nylah knows this. That's why she only ever attacks when I am at the apex of my swing. While I'm recovering from it she'll dart in and land a blow. She is waiting for me to tire myself out.

So I change tactics. I stop swinging and fall back into a defensive posture, sword up to parry any strikes. Nylah freezes when she sees this. A frown creases her face as she circles around me, the dark smoke wafting between us. Now that I'm facing her head on, Nylah is much more hesitant to attack. As I'm thinking this, she does the unexpected.

She turns around and runs.

For a moment I stand still, perplexed by her actions. Then I hear the crash of a tree falling behind me and realize that she made the only smart decision. There's no point winning a fight only to die in a fire.

The forest whips past me as I run. I don't know where I'm going. It doesn't matter. The forest will end eventually no matter which way I go. Before I can even comprehend it, I'm running on nothing but air. For a brief second I see the cornucopia platform and realize that I have ran all the way to the center of the arena. Then I'm falling.

I don't fall far. The ground slopes at a steep incline and I hit it hard. My shoulder screams in pain as it slams into the hard-packed turf and my elbow snags against a rock as I begin to roll. Everything is a blur until I grind to a thumping halt, my body tossed against the thick trunk of a tree.

I roll onto my back and stare into the sky.

Surprisingly, all my thoughts are for my friends. Teddy's shy but inquisitive questions. Jonah's overeager attitude. Jayda's bright intelligence. I thought that together we could be great, that we could win these Games. But that wasn't meant to be. Teddy and Jonah are dead, Jayda is lost in a blazing forest, and Lilah...

In all likelihood Lilah is a psychotic murderer. She didn't even show any guilt after killing Jonah. I squeeze my eyes shut. I should have listened to him. Jonah kept trying to tell me that Lilah was dangerous and not to be trusted, but I couldn't see past the surface. I thought that she could be trusted. In short, I was a fool.

I don't know how long I lie there, but eventually I force myself to get up. All around me are murky waters, spongey ground, and slender trees with long, drooping branches. Willow trees. So I'm in the swamp.

I know that I should start planning my next move, but all I can think about are my dead friends. Things turned for the worst in such a short amount of time. How much longer will it be before I lose my own life?

Pompeii Vulcan (District 4)
The forest was burning.

We stood as a group on the edge of the cornucopia platform, staring out at the bamboo trees as they're ravaged by flames. Since Ash was on guard at the time he was the first to see it, and quickly woke the rest of us. Ash also told us that a single cannon had fired shortly after the inferno first began. None of us can do more than guess who it belonged to.

"That wraps up one biome quite neatly," Mario says as we watch. I suppose it does. One of the things that I had been debating when I drifted off to sleep last night was wondering which biome we should search today. With this fire we can pretty much cross the bamboo forest off the list.

I flex my one good hand as I watch a clump of slender trees collapse. It's as nimble as ever. But the other one still burns. Even though I was unconscious when they cauterized the stump, I swear that I can still feel the burning. The intense heat, searing my skin as it stemmed the bleeding. It's still there. I know it is.

But I can't let the others see my weakness. They need to see me as their infallible leader. I need to keep the alliance strong. The only time the Careers fail to win the Games is when the alliance kills itself with infighting, and that only happens when there is a weak leader. I need to stay strong. For all our sakes.

"I don't think we'll gain anything more by watching this," Silve says with a yawn. He scratches his head as he turns his back on the flaming forest. "If you need me, I'll be sleeping in the cornucopia."

"No," I shake my head to clear it of dark thoughts. "We're going hunting."

Silve pulls up short of the golden horn. "If you insist." He doesn't sound as upset as he could be.

Now that I've made up my mind, all there is left to do is sort out who will stay behind ti guard the cornucopia. I'm not even done saying this when Harley steps forward to volunteer for guard duty.

"Again?" I can't help but be surprised. "Don't you want to partake in the hunt?" The Games were all about the glory you could earn. What is the point of continually staying behind to guard trinkets?

"I'm fine with guard duty," Harley answers with a shrug. I remember what Aphrodite told me on the final day of training, about how Harley is the daughter of the mayor and doesn't have any actual training, yet wound up in the Games anyway. I don't understand how that could happen. District 2 has one of the finest Career Academies in Panem and is relatively untouched by the war. Surely they would have had a surplus of volunteers.

Mario and I were different. District 4 had been invaded by those Blackcloaks and we were taking shelter inside the Academy when Peacekeepers came searching for volunteers. It was an easy choice to leave the war torn District behind to seek glory and fame in the Games.

But none of that matters now. I turn to Ash. "You will stay behind with Harley." The pale boy nods in answer. Despite not being from a Career District, I like the boy. He is simple and loyal to a fault. And surprisingly powerful. "I also want you two to work on something while I'm gone."

"What is it?" Harley asks.

"I want you two to take some shovels from the cornucopia and dig trenches, one in front of each walkway. Once you're done digging, you should take our extra spears and stick them in the bottom of the trench. Make sure they're pointed tip up." This was an idea I came up with last night while my phantom hand burnt. "If you don't have enough spears, then take some branches and sharpen them into points."

"Won't every tribute see the pit?" Harley tilts her head in puzzlement.

"No, because you're going to conceal the trenches with leaves and other debris."

"What if you guys accidentally fall into them when you return?"

"I highly doubt any of us are that stupid," I say flatly.

Aphrodite gives a tinkling laugh. "Oh, I think at least one of us might be that stupid." It's hard to miss the pointed look she throws Ash's way. I never understood the reason, but him and Aphrodite have never gotten along. Originally I thought to try and make them friendly towards each other, but I've long since dropped all efforts. Those two will never see eye to eye on anything.

"Just dig the trenches." With one last look, I turn and begin leading the others down one of the walkways. We're about halfway down when Mario speaks up.

"How did you choose the hot springs?" The small girl looks positively ridiculous with all that stuff packed onto her.

I shrug. "It's wide open. If anyone is hiding there, we'll find them."

"They'll see us coming," She says doubtfully.

"Yes. But they won't escape us." Of that I am certain. None of the other tributes are athletic enough to outrun one of us, let alone all of us. If we find anyone, they're as good as dead.

Mario doesn't have anything to say to that, so she just slinks back into formation. Not more than a few seconds pass before Aphrodite takes her place. "I don't trust her," She says barely above a whisper.

That's a new suspicion for her. "Why not?"

"Haven't you seen the way she looks at everyone? She clearly doesn't trust us, and I think that she may be planning something."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Like what? Let's be realistic here; what could a small girl like her do?" Not that I think Mario will actually try anything. She's much o smart to try and divide the Careers this early in the Games.

"I do not know. But I implore you to keep an eye on her." With one last haughty sniff, Aphrodite drops back to walk beside Silve. I flex my good hand. I hate all this suspicion and discord. We should all be unwavering allies, not accusing one another of supposed treachery!

I push this all to the back of my mind. We're on a hunt, and all I should be focusing on is the upcoming fight. Now that's something I enjoy. When I'm fighting, everything feels right in the world.

"Come on guys!" I raise my hand into the air and the faint sunlight gleams softly off its metallic surface. "Let's go remind those tributes what it means to be a Career!"

Lavender Morton (District 6)
Omega sits on the edge of the water, staring into the muddy waters with a vacant expression sewn across her face. She hasn't said a word since we discovered Alpha yesterday. I'm simultaneously worried and annoyed. Even at her best Omega was never the greatest ally to have, but now...

"Sun's up," Zamara emerges from the thicket. Her long black hair is brushed back behind her head and her bow is slung over her shoulder. "If we want to find Armado, we should head out soon."

I'm not sure what to think of Zamara. She's obviously a good person and cares greatly for our well-being, but at the same time I don't know why she cares. She goes on at great lengths talking about how she depises the Careers and anyone else who takes advantage of the weak, but she doesn't ever give any reason for her fervor.

I can't help but think she has some sort of death wish. Why else would she be so gung-ho about opposing the Careers singlehandedly?

All of yesterday we spoke about Armado and what he meant to Omega and I, but I never thought to ask Zamara what she cared about. It wasn't until earlier today, before Zamara left to scout our surroundings. had I tried telling her about my past in an effort to get her to open up more. I told her about my sister's death at the hands of Peacekeepers, and how my parents died when they plotted a rebellion in a fit of grief filled madness.

"That's...I don't even have the words to convey how awful that is," Zamara had said while Omega sat and stared at the swamp. She was being honest, I could see that much. But she still didn't tell me anything about her own past.

"I had Career training from an academy," She said when I pressed the issue.

"But District 0 doesn't have any academies," I had responded.

"Exactly." She hadn't said any more after that and I hadn't felt like trying to coax any more out of her.

But that was earlier today. This is now. As Zamara goes to stand beside Omega and break the little girl from her stupor, a new thought comes to me. "What is your District partner like?"

"Huh?" Zamara turns to me. "Topher? Why you asking about him?"

I shrug. "It's just...we've talked a lot about Armado, so why not talk about Topher too?" Also, if I can get Zamara talking about District 0 and Topher, it might be easier to get her to speak about her own past.

Zamara is silent for so long that I think she won't answer, but after fingering a lock of hair, she does. "Topher...he is a very intelligent boy. But very...naive too. He doesn't actually know much about the real world, but he's smart in ways most people aren't."

I nod along. I hadn't actually expected Zamara to like Topher. From what little I knew of him, I had thought that he was just a plain idiot. But to hear Zamara tell it, he's actually quite clever. Go figure.

"I do not think he will last long in these Games, however," Zamara's face darkens as she continues. "He's not cut out for this. And with most of his allies already dead..." She shakes her head. "I need to find the Careers before they harm any more people. But before that, I need to help you two find Armado."

Zamara turns and walks off, her quiver swishing behind her. I move to follow when I remember my other ally. "We need to move, Omega," I bend down beside the girl and shake her shoulder. "Armado needs us, and I don't like the feel of this place." The swamp is dark and dreary. Full of shadows and crevices that could hide any number of things. It's best not to linger here.

Omega doesn't respond. She pulls her knees closer to her chest and hugs them fiercely. I let out a sigh.

"What's the matter?" Zamara pauses, noticing our interaction. "We need to get moving."

"I know that. But Omega won't move." I can understand how she feels; losing family is the worst thing that can happen to a person. But sitting around wallowing in your own pity won't accomplish anything.

"Log." Omega surprises us both when she speaks. She reaches a slender hand out and points into the murky water, at a large black log that is drifting across the surface.

"What about it?" I ask, impatient.

"It wasn't there before."

"What do you mean? Of course it was there. What else..." I trail off as I examine the log more closely. It's big and oval, with a hard surface that doesn't look much like wood at all. It's more like...scales.

Suddenly panic seizes me. I try to speak, but I find that the words die in my throat. A warning is unnecessary, however, for the mutt chooses this moment to strike.

It emerges from the swamp with an eruption of water. The muddy, brown water mixes with globs of mud as it rains down onto our heads, and then the mutt is clambering onto shore. The creatures' smooth, black skin reflects the faint morning light like a pool of ink. It has a pair of glowing green eyes set in a slender skull atop a sinuous and seemingly boneless neck. It's all I can manage to not scream at the mere sight of it.

"Get back!" Zamara screams for me and the creature responds with a roar of its own. Black, knife-like teeth glisten in its mouth as it charges forward on four slender, bent legs that seem far too small to support its body. But it moves with a ferocious pace all the same. Before I know it, the creature is right atop me. I can smell its rancid breath as it raises one arm and swipes at me.

Something sharp slashes my face, cutting open my cheek, and spilling blood across my body. I stumble and hit the ground, the mud below me squishes softly as I sink into it. Arms tug at me. "Get up!" Zamara is pulling me to my feet. I don't resist, and soon she's herding me towards the trees. The mutt follows.

It travels over the soft, muddy ground with ease. Apparently it's small legs prevent it from sinking into the mud. Great for it, yet terrible for its prey. Which just so happens to be us.

My feet sink into the ground and the mud is suddenly up to my calves. Zamara halts beside me, turning around to loose an arrow at the mutt. It zooms into the creatures chest at a rapid speed, yet it bounces uselessly off its inky black scales. Zamara curses.

The creature pauses, cocking its head as if amused that we thought to harm it. While it's motionless I can't help but notice how its skin ripples like water that has just been disturbed. It's almost mesmerizing.

But I'm dragged back to reality when Omega, who we left at the shore, suddenly let's out a shrill scream of terror. When I turn to see what's wrong, my heart sinks like a stone.

A second mutt is emerging from the water.

Run.It's the only thing I can think of. We can't beat one mutt, let alone two. I should run and hope that the creatures are too preoccupied killing Zamara and Omega to give chase. It's the only logical thing to do.

Yet for some reason I find myself rooted to the spot.

The first mutt gives a shrill, ear-piercing roar and charges forward. The breath catches in my throat as it hurtles over the mud, coming right at me. Too late. I can't run now. I don't even have a weapon to try and fight it off. I didn't expect to die today, but I was never very good at predicting things.

Thrum!

The mutt pulls up short, howling in rage as it falls to the ground, legs thrashing about wildly. I do not understand until I see the creatures face, see the arrow embedded shaft deep in one of the mutts neon eyes.

Zamara knocks another arrow. "Go get Omega. I'll cover you from here!"

All logic is telling me to defy Zamara, to run off and never look back. But my heart is telling me that you never leave anyone behind.

I've always been ruled by my heart.

I zip forward, darting around the first mutt, still thrashing on the ground, and run as hard as I can for Omega. The little girl is lying on her back, screaming as the second mutt bears down on her.

I need a weapon. Anything. My foot brushes against something and I look down to see a large, rotted branch. I pick it up without thinking.

The beast attacks. I leap forward, spinning around the creature and striking with my branch. It smacks the creature across the skull and shatters instantly. As the mutt pulls back, shaking its head and trumpeting furiously, I grab Omega by the hand and haul her to her feet. "Run!"

We dash into the woods. I don't look back, though pulling Omega long slows me considerably. Soon we're deep in the shrouded part of the swamp, but not out of danger yet. Behind us comes the sound of running, of a pursuit. I think of the mutts, with their teeth and claws, rancid breath and hate-filled eyes. I can't outrun them. I can't.

Zamara bursts out from the bracken. "Don't stop running!" Without thinking I turn and follow her as she plunges into the bracken. Omega stumbles after us.

I don't know how long we run for, but eventually the sounds of pursuit die away. Soon there is nothing to hear but our own panting and laboured breathing. Zamara slows to a halt not far from the incline that leads out from the swamp. The acrid scent of smoke lingers in the air as I bend over, hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath.

"We should be safe," Zamara says after a few seconds of silence. "I don't think those mutts will go far from water."

"We're going to die here!" Omega is curled up in a tight ball, her eyes streaming with tears. "We're all going to die, just like Alpha!"

It would be easier to comfort her if I wasn't afraid of the same thing. I straighten up and wipe a hand across my face. It comes back slick with blood. I had almost forgotten about the mutt's slash.

"Zamara," I turn to the taller girl. "I think you should stay with us awhile longer. We need--"

"I'm surprised to see all of you here."

A boy sits up from where he was lying slumped against a log. His face is pale and stained with soot, his clothes a ragged mess, but he somehow exudes an aura of strength as he rises to his feet. "I hope you don't mean to kill me. I've had enough of that for one day."

I look to Zamara. She's the only one of us who has a weapon, but she shakes her head and slings her bow over her shoulder. "Luigi," she greets the boy with a dip of her head. "I hadn't expected to see you. What happened to your Anti-Careers?"

I'm surprised that everyone is so cordial. We are supposed to hellbent on killing each other. But right now, neither Zamara nor Luigi seem bent on killing anyone. When it becomes apparent that no one is going to attack him, Luigi bends his head, a look of shame flicking through his eyes. "The Anti-Careers, unfortunately, are finished."

I gasp. "You don't mean..."

"No," he shakes his head quickly. "They're not all dead. But Jonah and Teddy are, and Jayda went missing in the forest fire." There's a profound sadness to his words, almost as if each death had personally hurt him. "And Lilah...I'm afraid that Lilah may be a psychotic killer."

With some obvious hesitancy, Luigi goes on to explain everything that had happened to his alliance since last night. None of it was good, and all of it makes me shiver. The news about Lilah is especially distressing. I had known there would be some bloodthirsty tributes, but I had never expected there would be an insane one.

When he finishes his tale, Luigi sits himself on the ground, crossing his legs and looking absolutely exhausted. "I'm afraid I no longer have a choice. May I join with you four?"

I make an effort to respond, but Zamara is quicker. "Of course you can join us!"

I throw her a significant look. It's not that I don't want Luigi to join us--his presence is undoubtedly useful--but I'm upset that she didn't even think to consult me on this decision. This isn't even her alliance!

"My thanks," Luigi dips his head in respect.

My anger at Zamara abates when I think of something else. "You said you wanted to join the four of us, but we're only three."

Luigi's face darkens. "I thought...is Armado not still with you? Don't tell me that he's...."

"He's not dead." I pray he's not. "We just...misplaced him."

"Oh? Is that so?" I ignore Luigi and turn back to Zamara. The girl is scanning the trees for any sign of danger.

"We're actually about to go looking for Armado. And now you're with us, and you know what they say, four heads are better than one."

Carey Brand (District 12)
Takeko leads the way through the cool, dark forest. There's no sound except for the shuffling of our feet as we carefully pick our way through the undergrowth, mindful not prick ourselves on one of the many briar patches that cover the forest like a festering sore.

My legs feel heavy. I think that my sleepless nights are finally catching up to me. I know that I should actually try and get some sleep, but thoughts of District 12 always prevent me. I'll see it burn again in my dreams. I know that I will. Everyone in District 12 will die for the hundredth time, and I will be the only one to witness it.

"Carey, pay attention!" Takeko snaps her fingers and I turn to face her. She's several paces ahead of me. I hadn't realized I'd fallen behind.

"Sorry," I mutter the word as I walk up alongside the dark-haired girl. She narrows her eyes at me, probably wondering if this was some sort of ploy of mine. There's being suspicious and then there's being Takeko. This girl trusts nothing.

And for good reason. What is there to trust in this world?

"Don't fall behind," Takeko continues to chastise me as we continue along our way. "I don't want you stumbling onto some danger while I'm preoccupied with the plan."

The plan. We're going to the cornucopia, where we hope to catch a Career unaware and kill them. But Takeko isn't intent on just killing, she wants to dismember the body and leave the parts for the other Careers to find. Stupid. So stupid. She thinks it'll make her look tough and show the Careers that she's not to be messed with, but all it'll really do is draw their full rage onto us.

Does Takeko really believe that she could fend off their entire pack? Even with my help, I don't believe we could beat more than three, maybe four, though one of us would undoubtedly die in the effort. Maybe that's exactly what she's hoping for. I haven't convinced myself that she sees me as invaluable--I know all too well she means to discard me as soon as it's convenient.

But I'm not about to tell her that her plan is faulty. If she wants to tighten the noose around her own neck, then so be it. Why should I care?

"I'm not going to get in the way," I mutter. Takeko just nods and turns her attention back onto the path. I don't think I've ever seen a pair of allies like us before. If you can even call us that.

Before I know it we're emerging from the forest into a exposed hill filled with tussocks of grass. It grows as high as my waist in some places. The perfect place for a trap. Takeko instantly ducks into the grass, pulling me down beside her. "The cornucopia is right over there," She says, pointing across the grass and over at the large wooden platform that hangs over an expanse swampy water.

"Look at them."

"What?" Takeko swings her head around to look at me. I gesture at the wooden spoke, where the wood meets the grass. Two tributes are walking around a long, narrow ditch. One of them, a redhead, holds a shovel while the other drags along tendrils of vines and lays them across the ditch.

Takeko frowns. "What are those Careers up to...?"

I can't find it in myself to care. I just felt like pointing it out to Takeko. "Dunno. Maybe it'll help your plan."

As we watch, one of the Careers pulls away from the ditch, heading straight for a copse of trees that grow alongside the grass tussocks. Takeko's slender hands wrap around the hilt of her katana. "Perfect. He's serving himself on a silver platter."

She takes off without warning, walking at a crouch through the wispy grass. I follow as well as I can, yet I'm not as accustomed to moving like this as she is. By the time I reach the copse, Takeko is already hidden behind a tree, her katana at the ready.

Now that I'm closer, I also recognize the Career. It's Ash. My district partner. For a moment I cannot understand why he is all the way over here, facing a tree with his back to us, but then I hear him unzip his pants and as he starts relieving himself.

"You stay back," Takeko is unfazed. "I'll slip around and kill him with one clean thrust through the back of the heart..." Takeko continues to speak, but I've become deaf to her words. Kill him. Kill Ash. The last surviving remnant of District 12, save for myself. Deep inside myself, within the deep recesses of myself where I had long given up caring, I find a twinge of emotion.

Suddenly I'm back in the tribute apartments. It's my third night being in the Capitol, and I've yet to eat a single thing. I'm inside my bedroom, sitting curled up in a corner. The room is dark, but I'm not sleeping. The nightmares prevent me.

The door swings open and light pours into the room. I cover my eyes and try to ignore it. It's probably just the escort again, trying to make me eat something. But I don't want to eat anything. The person steps closer and sets a plate of food down beside me. I turn to yell at them to go away, but that's when I see that it's not the escort after all. It's Ash.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him, my voice flat and devoid of emotion.

"What does it look like?" He nudges the plate with his foot. "Ya need to eat, or you'll die before you even get to the arena."

I stare at him. At his pale, emotionless face and hard blue eyes. What purpose could he have doing this? Why bother himself with this? For a long moment I stay silent, staring at him. He turns to leave, but as he reaches the door I finally speak. "Why do you care?"

He pauses, then shrugs. "Because someone has to." With that, Ash steps outside and closes the door behind him.

Suddenly I'm back in the arena, back in the forest with Takeko. I press the palms of my hands against my eyes. Why did I remember that? I don't care about Ash. He's nothing to me. He didn't really care, he was just trying to make himself look good for the cameras. But...there were no cameras. There was no one to witness it. No one but Ash and myself even knew it happened.

Takeko is about to step out and confront Ash. She will stick a sword through his back. Kill him. But he's the only person left from District 12. The last piece of home. He has two siblings...

My hand grabs Takeko's wrist. "You can't kill him. Not him." The words are barely more than a whisper. Takeko glares at me, then jerks her hand free.

"What the hell are you playing at?" Her sword is raised over her head, threatening me. But I don't back down. I don't fear her.

"You can't kill him," I don't know why the words tumble out my mouth. I don't care about Ash, I don't care about anything. But I know that I don't want to be the one responsible for his death. The last survivor of District 12. I don't want to be the one who killed the last hope of the District. "Kill the other one. Not him."

But she can't kill either. As we sit crouched in the bushes, Ash finishes his business and returns to the ditch and the other Career. They exchange a few words before turning and heading back across the spoke to the cornucopia. Ash is safe. But deep inside I know that it doesn't matter. He'll still die, if not today, then tomorrow, or the day after that. All I've done is postpone the inevitable.

I turn back to Takeko. "We won't be able to follow them. The other Careers--"

Takeko swings a hand and smacks me in the face. I hit the ground hard, tasting blood in my mouth as I land. I try to sit up but Takeko puts a boot on my shoulder and forces me back down. "I don't think you really understood what I told you yesterday," She says with a sneer. "You don't tell me what to do. You don't even think about telling me what to do. I am the leader here, understand? I am!"

I spit out the blood, staring blankly up at my "ally". "I understand," I say quietly.

She kicks me in the ribs. Hard. All the breath is forced out of me as I squirm on the ground, refusing to cry out. This is nothing. What is a little pain when you've already lost everything that as ever mattered?

"You're holding me back," Takeko says, giving me one last kick, this time in the small of the back. "I don't know why I haven't killed you yet. You didn't even get a high training score. Why do I need you?"

She may not say it, but she knows why. No one can win the Games by themselves. It's impossible. Especially not with the Careers still mostly intact. Besides, I've stolen her knife before. I could've killed her without her even knowing. But I didn't. That has to mean something.

Takeko pinches the bridge of her nose, then sighs loudly, sheathing her sword. "He was your District partner. I should have realized it sooner, but I didn't think you were such a sentimental sap." That makes two of us. I still cannot understand why I sought to spare him. Takeko glares daggers at me as she helps me to my feet. "That was your last warning. One more mistake and you're dead. I cannot afford any liabilities."

I nod dully. I won't do anything like that again. Everyone in this arena is already dead, they just don't know it yet. I'll kill anyone who comes across my path from here on. Because I don't care.

Yet deep down inside me there's a voicing saying I do.

Emma Brynne (District 9)
Bastien and Topher walk ahead of me, laughing and smiling, patting each other on the back when they think the other has made a particularly good joke. I don't know how they can find it in themselves to laugh. Our situation is not one of joy or levity. Have they already forgotten Avan? I can't. I cannot stop thinking about him. About how he he attacked us, how he looked while swinging the sickle that I now I carry, how he looked when I thrust Bastien's sword through his back...

No. No, I can't think about that now. Once I start, I won't be able to stop. I've always sought to protect people, it was my greatest regret. I had never been able to protect anyone. Until yesterday.

The sword shining in the afternoon sun. The blade piercing his back. The droplets of blood as they splattered across the cold stones.

I squeeze my eyes shut. What is the point of protecting someone if it means you have to kill someone else? That's not protecting. That's just swapping one life for another.

"Emma? Are you okay?" A voice drifts across my consciousness and I snap my eyes open. Bastien and Topher have halted about fifteen feet away. When did I stop walking? "Emma? You look pale." Bastien steps towards me, but I wave him off.

"I'm fine," I lie. Avan's face looms in my mind. Dark and angry, like he was before I killed him. Why do I feel anything for him? I didn't know him and he was trying to kill me and my friends. I should be glad he's dead! But all I feel is a deep, bone-chilling sadness.

"Mayhaps we should rest?" Topher looks concerned as he checks the sky. It's as gray and overcast as its ever been. There's always light, but I don't think I've ever seen the sun. "Emma looks like she needs it, and I daresay that I could use a respite myself."

I'm glad that Topher is the one to suggest the idea. I don't want to look weak. Not in front of Bastien. Despite my regret at Avan's murder, I don't regret saving him. Bastien is the sole light in this dark world. He never lets the oppressing cruelty of the world keep him down. He's always positive, always looking at the best parts of people. I wish I could be more like him.

We decide to rest beside a large spring that sits between two massive stacks of rocks. They're almost hills, really. A small twisting path runs through them, like a track through a canyon. Dark brown moss clings to the walls. Topher tugs at one patch. "Think it's edible?"

Bastien looks up from the springs side, where he was going through the backpack we took from Avan. "I don't know. Why don't you taste some and find out?"

Topher nods and begins to rip a handful of the moss out when Bastien breaks out laughing. "No, don't actually do it! I was just joking around."

"Oh." Topher lets the moss fall to the ground. He grins. "I knew that. I was merely testing you."

I wrinkle my nose at the sight. "Why would you even want to eat that stuff? It looks disgusting!"

Topher shrugs. "You'd be surprised by how scrumptious awful looking stuff can be. This one time--" I sit back and listen as Topher regales us with a tale from when he was trapped inside his family's mansion. Apparently he was running low on food and resorted to eating some spiders he found in the basement. "They were actually quite delicious," He tells us with an ear-splitting grin. "Tasted just like pineapples!"

I have no idea how a spider could taste like anything remotely similar to a pineapple, but I don't say so aloud. I've grown accustomed to Topher's...oddities.

Time passes as we laugh and talk, telling old tales and reminiscing about better days. When you think about it, Topher might actually be in a better situation here then he was back home. There he was faced with the prospect of a long, slow death by dehydration or starvation. Here he'll have a quick death. There's some solace to be found in that, I suppose.

Our conversation clearly lifts Topher and Bastien's already high spirits. But for me, I cannot help but mourn for those that we lost. Nicholas and Elia. Elia especially. Though I had only known her for a short time, she had become like a sister to me. She was strong in ways I wasn't, knowledgeable in things I didn't understand. She was stronger than me, smarter than me, an all-around better person then me.

And she died. For no reason.

Her death was pointless. All for an axe that we didn't need. I cannot help but wonder how different things would be had she survived the bloodbath. She was always the most practical of us. I'm sure she would have had a plan.

Because we surely do not.

"Do you hear that?" Bastien interrupts Topher mid-joke, cocking his head to the side. I break out of my thoughts and put my own ears to use. I hear nothing but the splashing of the spring and the far off call of a bird.

"I don't hear any..." I pause when I hear it. The scrabbling of rocks. The sound of footsteps. That can only mean one thing.

"Ambush!"

They appear just as I shout, rising over the hills that we thought offered us shelter. There's four of them, two on each hill. Their faces are eager for bloodlust, their hands full with deadly weapons.

The Careers have found us.

Bastien is on his feet, sword in hand. He shouts for us to run, to flee down one of the canyon-like paths. Topher reaches for his stick but before he can a knife comes whizzing down from the hill and pins his wooden weapon to the ground. Topher quickly pulls his hand away.

"Ad victoriam!" The District 4 boy screams his battle cry as he leaps down from the hill, crashing to the ground in front of Bastien. My breath catches in my throat at the spectacle of him. He's so tall, so muscular. He's like an entirely different species. And he has Bastien in his sights.

I'm conscious of the other Careers descending, but I cannot take my eyes off Bastien as he steps forward to duel the District 4 boy. Where Avan was brutal and straight to the point, this boy is graceful and majestic. Though he only has one hand, he easily parries Bastien's initial swings, then swiftly transitioning into his own attack. Bastien stumbles backwards, doing all he can to merely block the boy's attacks.

It's not until the boy's sword slashes across Bastien's shoulder and he cries out in pain do I snap out of my stupor.

I have to do something. Bastien will die if I don't. Without even stopping to think, I pick up my sickle and charge. The boy sees me coming and turns to face me, but in doing so gives Bastien an opening. Bastien kicks out and catches the boy in the chest. As the Career stumbles away, Bastien grabs me by the shoulder.

"We have to go! Now!" He half-drags me along the path before something comes flying and strikes him in the shoulder. He curses as he stumbles, and I turn to see the District 4 girl readying another knife. I stare at her as she sends it hurtling in my direction. The blade is moving so fast. It's going to hit me right in the--

Bastien tugs me to the side and the knife hits the stone wall, careening harmlessly across the canyon as it does. I stare at it, mouth dry with fear, until Bastien my attention.

"Snap out of it, Emma! We need to go!" He's so panicked, so scared. It's like a scene from a nightmare. "Please, we need to--" He cuts off, and, bizarrely, sticks out his tongue. It's larger than I thought it would be, and redder too. It continues to stretch out his mouth, growing to an obscene size, and then I realize what I'm looking at.

It's not his tongue. It's a sword.

Silve pulls his sword out of Bastien and the boy, the one ray of light in my world, slumps to the ground. Dead.

I begin to breathe quickly, too quickly. Hyperventilating. Bastien isn't dead. He can't be. I saved him from Avan. He can't be dead. Not now. Not here. I saved him. I saved him!

"Nice one, Silve!" The District 4 boy walks up and punches Bastien's killer in the shoulder. "He was a good fighter--but not good enough, it seems. I would have killed him if not for that girl there. She--"

He cuts off with a wet gurgle as my sickle slices a path through his throat. Surprise fills his blue eyes as his one hand goes to stem the flow of blood. But he can't stop it, not now. He falls to his knees, eyes bulging as he desperately tries to breath. He looks like how I felt when I first learned Cadence was dead.

"Pompeii!" One of the Careers gives the shout, then my feet are moving on their own. I'm running down the passage, back the way we came. I remember how Bastien was joking and laughing not more than five minutes ago. Now he's....he's...

I saved him. But it wasn't enough. It's never enough. No matter how hard I try, everyone I want to protect will still end up dead. I don't know where my feet are taking me, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

It never did.

Silve Wisp (District 2)
Emma takes off at a sprint, running as fast as her scrawny legs can take her, leaving Pompeii's corpse in her wake. I look around to see if any of my allies are going to follow her, but they're both too shell-shocked by the sudden death of our leader.

"Pompeii!" Aphrodite drops to her knees beside his body. His head lies in a pool of his own blood, eyes staring up at the sky, still filled with the surprise he had felt when Emma ripped his throat open. The cannons for him and Bastien, who lies dead at my feet, finally go off. '''Boom! Boom!'''.

"He was a moron," Mario sidles up beside me as we both watch Aphrodite mourn our leader. "Thinking he had time for conversation in the middle of battle...phaw!" She spits, to show what she thinks of that.

"He was honorable," I say. It's the best thing I can say about the boy. He lived by his code of honor and integrity and, in the end, that was his undoing. I doubt that he ever suspected Emma would attack him--he thought she was too scared for that. Or maybe he just thought that she operated by the same code of honor that he did.

Mario shifts from foot to foot, eying Aphrodite, who still has her back to the two of us. "We could off her right now..."

I blink in surprise. I knew that Mario had some designs on leaving the alliance at some point, but I hadn't expected her to plot the death of one of our own! Mario seems to sense my discomfort. "We don't need her. She'll only hold us back. It'll be easier on our own."

Would it? One less tribute would obviously bring me closer to victory, but taking a loss of another ally would damage the Careers--maybe irreparably. There will already be a power vacuum thanks to Pompeii's death. Kill Aphrodite and I don't even know if the Careers will stick together.

Which might just be Mario's goal.

I glance at Mario. The small girl is staring intently at Aphrodite, a knife hidden in her hand. If I let her do it, then Mario and I will leave the Careers and stake out on our own. Back at the cornucopia Harley and Ash will see Pompeii and Aphrodite's faces in the sky and wonder why the two of us never returned. They will either turn on one another or team up to hunt us down.

On the opposite spectrum, if I stop Mario, then we will all return to the cornucopia together. The Careers will be five strong, much larger than any other alliance left in the arena. We will find a new leader and continue to whittle down the rest of the competition. But the threat of one of us betraying the others will remain.

I need to play this logically. Surorian and Takeko are still out there in the arena, two huge threats that could take down multiple tributes at once. The easiest way to kill them would be with an alliance at my back. Yes. We need to stick together.

I'm about to tell Mario this when Aphrodite stands up and turns around. "He's dead," She says with puffy, red eyes. "Our leader is dead."

Mario slides the knife back into her belt. "We lost our opportunity," She mutters. I say nothing. Apparently she took my silence as agreement to her plan. Fine by me. As long as Mario thinks I'm apart of her coup--and I may yet be--then she will have no cause to harm me. Keeping as many paths open to me is key to victory.

"We'll need to tell the others," Aphrodite continues, picking up her sword and shield. "We'll have to end the hunt for today."

Now that the time for planning my long-term strategy has passed, I can focus on the aftermath of the battle. "What happened to the third Fool?" I ask the others. "I killed Bastien and the girl escaped, but about the District 0 boy?"

"He ran away," Mario says with ill disguised scorn. "He threw a rock at Aphrodite and ran while she was cowering behind her shield." Aphrodite at least has the dignity to blush.

"It was a jagged rock! And he threw it very hard."

"Whatever." Mario bends down to collect Pompeii's backpack, and I take this opportunity to grab his sword. We don't have very many of those left at the cornucopia, no need to waste a perfectly fine one here.

Still, it's hard not to think that this whole encounter was a net loss. Trading Pompeii for Bastien is not something that we should be proud of--especially not since we let his two allies escape. Emma and Topher are two of the weakest tributes left in the arena. Letting them make fools out of us had undoubtedly hurt us in the eyes of the sponsors.

Aphrodite and Mario finish up gathering the fallen supplies and we all begin the long trudge back to the cornucopia. I twirl a knife between my hands as we go, deep in thought. Have I found a purpose here in the arena? I volunteered to do just that, but now I have begun to doubt myself. So far life here isn't anything different from life back in District 2. The only major difference I can think of is that people congratulate me for killing people here.

I eye my two allies. Both of them walk silently ahead of me. They appear to be thinking, much like I am. However, I doubt their quandaries are as introspective as mine. They, at least, don't seem to doubt their purpose.

Victors always talk about how grand the Games are. How much their lives were changed by winning them. Some have even said that their old lives before the Games were nothing but a faded drean compared to their lives post-Games. Yet so far I have experienced nothing of the sort. Nothing feels different.

It's incredibly frustrating.

My thoughts lapse into silence when I become aware of how I'm moving my knife between my hands. Roux taught me that. I don't know why I'm suddenly thinking about him now. Very deliberately, I stow the knife back into my belt. I'll find my purpose in this arena.

Or I'll die trying.

Corin Greer (District 5)
"Keep your guard up, Cecil!" I circle around my opponent, constantly moving my feet so that I won't become flat-footed. My sword is help at the ready, capable of blocking a strike coming in any direction.

Cecil clumsily turns around to try and keep himself facing me. In his attempt, I see at least a dozen different openings in which I could get past his sword and kill him. His failure to keep up with me is not his fault, but I can't help but be annoyed by him all the same. "Stop waving your sword about like that! All you're doing is making yourself unbalanced!"

Frustration flashes across his face. "It'd be easier if you stopped moving!"

I keep circling him. "Do you think that Silve will stop moving for you? Or what about Pompeii?"

His sword dips to the ground as he scowls in annoyance. "You know that I won't be fighting them. I could barely--"

I strike. I step forward, dance a few steps to the side, then swing out my sword in a flurry of blows. The first strike knocks Cecil's sword from his hand, while the second takes him in the gut. While he's bent over, gasping in pain, my third strike stops inches from his neck. "You've just been decapitated."

He straightens himself out, rubbing the spot on his ribs where I hit him. "I have more bruises then I've got hair particles, thanks to you and your 'training'" He pushes away the tip of my sword--in actuality, just a stick. We only have one sword and I thought it better to let Cecil acclimate to its weight. "What's the point anyway? We only have one sword, and you're by far the better swordsman. Why do I need to learn?"

I try not to let my irritation show. "Weren't you the one who suggested that we teach each other our skills?"

"Yes, but I meant skills that might be useful to us. This clearly is not a skill I'll be able to use." Cecil sits on the ground, resting his back against a tree. Exhaustion must getting to him, because he's usually not like this.

"Fine. We'll stop for the day." I look to the sky, which is still hidden in clouds, to check the time. An orange-ish light peeks out through the gaps. Dusk must be near. "We should go check on our traps."

This morning we had gone out and set up several different traps in a small circle around our encampment. Since we didn't exactly have the best materials (or any, really) our traps aren't the most impressive things. They're mostly just simple snares and deadfalls. But even a simple trap is better than nothing.

Cecil slowly gets to his feet. I notice that he's still holding his side gingerly. Maybe I hit him too hard. "What do we do if the Careers wandered into them?"

"They would have cut themselves free," I tell him, heading west towards our nearest snare. "Then they would have found and killed us."

He nods, but says nothing. I cannot help but wonder if he thinks that he's getting the short end of our skill-exchange. Everything he teaches me gives an immediate benefit, but everything I teach him is almost useless. No matter how skilled he is with a sword, someone like Silve or Pompeii will defeat him in seconds. And my only other skill are things that I cannot teach. It wouldn't be totally inaccurate if Cecil thought that this whole partnership offered him nothing.

Except, of course, survival.

I am under no delusions. Had Cecil gone into the arena alone, he would be dead right now. Either at the bloodbath or some time after, he would have been killed. That's not an indictment on his skills; just a simple fact. A blind tribute can only go as far as his allies take him, no matter how skilled he is.

We soon find the small game trail that we hid one of the snares on. I freeze in place. There's an odd noise in the air. Almost like...

I grab Cecil by the collar and haul him back. "Someone's caught in the snare!" I whisper to him. His head snaps towards me in surprise, but then he nods. He hears it too. Someone speaking quietly.

I hold my sword at the ready, creeping forward along the path. Just ahead, by the cyan elm where we hide the trap, I see her. The girl from District 3 is sitting on the ground, muttering to herself as she fiddles with the vine tied around her ankle. An axe lies just out of her reach. She must have dropped it when the snare entangled her.

Easy kill. I don't remember how many tributes are still alive, but there's about to be one less. I step out of the foliage, moving quickly. The girl looks up and her eyes widen in shock and fear as I take my sword and swing it right for her--

Cecil grabs my wrist. "Corin, no!"

I try to shake free from his grip. "What the hell are you doing?"

"We could use her! She might have information we need!"

"I doubt that." We need people dead, and sparing one girl to get some information is not going to help. Besides, she has a backpack. That can be ours if we kill her now.

"The forest is on fire," The girl says quickly. I look to her and frown. "Not this forest, but the one to the west. The gamemakers started it on fire."

Not good. I knew it would happen eventually, but knowing that the gamemakers have already started interfering is worrying. That means they're bound to set something off in this grove sooner or later. And anything they may set off is not something good for us.

"I have more information too," The girl (Jayda, I think) says with a small nod. "But only if you agree to a truce."

"You're in no position to bargain," I say. Looking closer, I can see that the girl is filthy, covered with ashes and with clothes torn and burnt. So she definitely wasn't lying about the fire.

"On the contrary, I think I am in a perfect position to bargain."

Then, without warning, Jayda stands up. I stare at her in blank shock for a moment. The vine that had ensnared her foot lies on the ground, cut clean in half. I don't understand until I see the small, silvery object in her hand. She had another weapon!

I throw myself backwards, ducking behind a tree for cover. I hear Jayda chuckle. "Self-preservation is ideal, but you have nothing to worry from me."

Cecil, who has not made any move to shield himself, nods. "We are willing to make a truce. What information do you have?"

Jayda slowly reaches down and picks up her axe. I grit my teeth, annoyed that I hadn't grabbed it first. Now that she's free and armed, killing her without injury may be impossible. "That depends."

"On what?" I don't like this girl. She's too self-assured, too...intelligent. District 3 is where all those brainiacs live. The last thing I want is too get stuck in a web of hers.

Jayda gives a wry smile. "On what you are willing to give me."

I'm tempted to just ram my sword through her chest, then and there. Does she truly think that we need her information that badly? Anything she has to tell us we'll learn for our selves soon enough. "Screw off!" I snap at her.

Cecil, however, nods in acceptance. "Very well. We shall provide you with some food, however, you will have to give me those shurikens you have there."

Jayda's face goes blank. "I didn't expect you would recognize them."

Cecil smiles. "Well, I did. Now, if you want the truce..."

From there everything is set. Jayda hands over three objects identical to the small, silvery weapon she used to free herself, and Cecil gives her a hunk of the cheese we received from the bloodbath and some berries that we had gathered this morning. I'm not fond of the deal, but it gives Cecil a weapon of his own, and for that I'm willing to overlook what it cost us.

"Now, about that information..." I finally step out from behind the tree as Jayda begins to place her food into her backpack. I'm still certain we should just kill her. We would not only still get the shurikens, but we would get whatever else she had on her too. She has to die at some point for us to win. Why not now?

Jayda slings the backpack over her shoulders, stands up, and faces me with her axe in hand. With a voice as calm as if she were discussing the weather, she tells us, "The Anti-Careers are no more."

I feel myself tense in shock. The Anti-Careers? No more? It's not until then, when my mind begins to take in this startling new revelation, do I remember that Jayda herself was an Anti-Career.

"What happened?" Cecil asks quietly. "Are the others...all dead?"

"Not all of them, no." Jayda pauses, seemingly hesitant to continue. But eventually she does. And what she has to say is simultaneously pleasant and horrifying. Pleasant, because I get closer to victory with each death and alliance dissolution. Horrifying, because...well, everything she says.

Apparently Lilah is a murderous psychopath who turned on her alliance, killing Teddy and Jonah. Jayda herself was unable to stop her before she ran off, and then she lost Luigi in the forest fire. For all she knows he could be dead.

"At this rate," Jayda finishes with a small somber voice. "The only large alliance left will be the Careers. With Alpha dead, I don't imagine that the District 6 and 11 alliance will hang around for much longer." I shift my feet uncomfortably. I don't know how to feel about that. On one hand, the Anti's were among the biggest threats out here. Them being gone is a boon for me. On the other hand, the Anti's were an important counter to the Careers. When they were active, the Careers had to keep them in check. But now that they're gone, the Careers are free to focus on the other tributes...

"I may not be the only tribute who fled into this part of the arena," Jayda adjusts the straps on her backpack. "So be careful around here. Others may show up soon." She turns to leave, but a thought strikes me.

"What are you planning to do now?"

Jayda narrows her eyes at me. Probably wondering why I want to know. "I don't know exactly," She speaks slowly and carefully. "But I plan to go off the radar. If things go as I plan, then you won't even see me until the day of the finale."

I nod. I was expecting her to say something stupid and sentimental, like say she was going to go search for Luigi or something. But instead it seems she's choosing the logical option. Pity. That means I'll most likely have to fight her at some point in these Games.

"Good luck," Cecil offers as she slips back into the forest. I sit beside him in silence, waiting to make sure that Jayda has truly gone. When it becomes apparent that she is no longer in earshot, I grunt.

"This was a bad idea."

Cecil scratches his ear. "What was?"

"Not killing her. She's smart, athletic, and has a decent weapon and plenty of supplies. She's going to be a huge threat in the days to come--and we had a chance to kill her but wasted it."

"No point arguing about it now," Cecil says. I'm unnerved by the fact that he doesn't face me while he speaks. But then, why would he? He's blind and doesn't need to look at anybody's face. That's another thing that makes me uncomfortable. Cecil had no problem lying to me about his blindness, so who knows what else he may be hiding from me? The simple truth is that I can't trust him--not completely.

Though it's not like I ever did trust him completely.

"Come on," I stride into the woods, the opposite way Jayda went. "We shouldn't hang around in one spot, unless we want Jayda or someone else to come sneaking on us."

Armado Roynclaw (District 6)
I aimlessly walk forward, clenching and unclenching my hand as I furtively cast my eyes around the hot springs. The sun is slowly fading away, casting the arena back into that ominous darkness. I curse quietly as I see the first sign of the moon rising. Today has been a wasted day.

I've yet to leave this biome and have not gotten any closer to finding Lavender. Four cannons have gone off today, but I know that two of them were not for her. Those two cannons, and the deaths they represent, are the reason I've made so little progress.

I had just begun my renewed search for Lavender when I hear their approach. The Careers. They were not more than three dozen paces away from me. I'm not stupid. I knew that I couldn't win a fight against the Careers, especially not with an injured hand. So I did the most logical thing I could: I ducked into a small crevice in a rockpile and squeezed myself as deep into it as I could go.

That decision saved my life. Their group wandered right past my hiding place and up a hill to the northeast. I heard the screaming not more than ten minutes later. Then the cannons.

It was all too easy to figure out what happened. The Careers had found an alliance, a pair of tributes, and used their superior numbers and weaponry to kill them.

At first I was terrified that they had found Lavender and Omega, but then logic seized control of me. One of the voices I heard screaming was male. Lavender wouldn't have aligned with any of the other male tributes, she didn't trust them enough for that. Plus there were only two cannons in that volley. I very much doubt there was a third tribute in the alliance; the Careers didn't seem like the type to let their prey escape.

While that assuaged my fear that Lavender wasn't among those two deaths, it left me with two other problems. One, I still didn't know exactly who died. And two, the Careers were still in the area and, if I attempted to move, likely to stumble onto my location at any time.

Once again I was forced to make the logical choice. I stayed inside the crevice until I was certain that the Careers had moved on. I remained in that cramped hole for hours, praying that the Careers or Spewers wouldn't find me.

It wasn't until the sun began to set did I crawl out and resume my search for Lavender.

Since I've ruled out the two afternoon cannons, that just leaves the two earlier cannons. I can't say who they were for, but I refuse to believe that Lavender was involved. She is still alive, and I'm going to find her. But if I see her face in the sky...

Best not to think about that.

The landscape of the hot springs has little variety. Everywhere I look I see the same rocks and pools. Occasionally there will be a small, scraggly tree, or a stunted bush, but for the most part it is just rocks, rocks, rocks, and some more rocks. I was beginning to just blank it all out when I came upon the smoldering ruins of the forest.

The trees are bare, thin things that stand tall between piles of black ash and charred wood. Their trunks are black. The roots are black. Everything is black. The acrid scent of fire still lingers in the air. The fire has destroyed everything.

For a long time I just stand there taking it all in. Who escaped this fire? Did anyone? What if Lavender was involved? What if--

Footsteps.

I spin around, pulling my spear to chest level and pointing towards the source of the noise. I see him instantly. He's walking towards me, shuffling rather aimlessly as he goes along. I recognize him as the boy from District 0. An idiot and a weakling. I know I don't have anything to worry about from him, but what about his allies?

I squint into the distance, trying to see if anyone is with the boy. But I see nothing but rocks and empty horizon. "Stop!" I address the boy before he gets within a dozen feet of me. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

The boy falls to his knees. Now that he is closer, I can see the tears running down his face. "It's horrible!" He rasps, his voice raw and cracking. "They're dead! All dead!"

It doesn't take me long to figure out he's talking about the Fools. "They're all dead?" I ask, not letting my guard down. This could be some kind of ploy to kill me. "All your allies?"

He nods weakly. "The Careers...we did not anticipate their approach.. before we could do anything they were upon us. Emma and Bastien..." He goes on to tell me how he fled from the scene as his allies fought, and how he heard two cannons go off as he ran. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who they were for.

I could kill him, if I wanted. He's on knees, completely defenseless. I could drive my spear right through his heart and end the Fools for good. But I don't. Not because of some stupid sense of morality or a simplistic pity, but because it doesn't make any strategical sense. Topher alone is not a threat. I doubt he could kill anyone if he tried. But he might be able to assist me in my search for Lavender.

At the very least he might be a handy meat shield.

"Are you injured?" I ask the boy, slowly approaching him.

"Not physically, no."

I nod, then grab him by the arm and haul him to his feet. He slumps against my shoulder. "So much death....logically I knew what would happen, I saw what happened back home, but...the simple truth of seeing what is before me..."

"Yeah, the world sucks. Then you die. The end." I'm not in the mood for some sheltered kid finally understanding the truth. I have a friend to find.

From there we become an alliance, well, a pair. I lead the way as we approach the charred ruins of the forest. Topher doesn't say anything, just silently following along behind me. From what I can tell he doesn't have much items on himself. Just a machete that he clutches close to his chest.

I very much doubt that he has even used it for anything yet. Probably doesn't even know how to use it. I wouldn't--

Whizz! Thunk!

An arrow strikes the earth inches from my feet. I freeze, staring at the quivering shaft in stony shock. Beside me, Topher yelps as another arrow hits down.

"Stop right there!" A commanding voice rings out from a wood pile just beyond a pair of still-standing conifer trees. Topher jerks backwards but I grab him by the wrist and hold him in place. If that archer is good enough to hit the ground before our feet, they're good enough to put an arrow through our necks.

"We're not going anywhere!" I call back, hoping I don't sound too threatening. Several long seconds pass before the speaker slides down from the tree. It's a girl. Tall and imposing, she has dark skin and black hair tied back behind her head. More importantly, she holds a bow, an arrow already notched and ready to fire.

"What do you want?" She demands.

I don't know her name, but I recognize her pure white jacket. District Zero. Topher's district partner. I glance at the boy to see his reaction, but he's focused on the arrow at his feet, a single drop of sweat beading down his forehead.

"We don't want any trouble--" I cut myself off with a quiet curse. That's a stupid thing to say. What kind of moron would believe that? This game is only won by killing everyone else. Then again, this girl hasn't killed us yet.

"Wait." To my utter shock, the girl lowers her bow. "Topher! And is that...Armado?"

Huh? Do I know this girl? I'm pretty sure I don't. I may have had amnesia, but I definitely remember everything that's happened since being forced into these Games.

"Armado!"

Something comes running out from the woodpile. At first I think I'm imagining things. No way could it her. It can't be that easy. No way. Lavender sprints across the open ground, then slams into me like a train, wrapping me in a bone-crunching hug.

For a moment I stand there dazed, then I hug her back. "I was worried you died."

Lavender says something I don't catch. Her voice is thick with sobs. Guilt washes over me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose you. It's just..." Over her shoulder, I see two more figures emerging from the woodpile. Luigi and Omega. "Looks like you found some new allies."

Lavender steps back and looks up at me with teary blue eyes. "Yeah...well, I needed help to find you." She glances at Topher, who is gazing at everyone with a blank look. "Seems like you found help as well."

"Guess I did. Mind telling me how this came to be?"

Lavender laughs. "Fine. But it's a long story."

Ash Vile (District 12)
With just one look I can tell tell that something bad has happened.

Silve leads the way as the trio slowly approaches the crystal cornucopia. Aphrodite is staring ahead with a sorrowful face, a new expression for that stuck-up bitch. Teeny-tiny Mario is scowling at everything and always patting her weapon. Silve, well now, Silve, he ain't got no expression at all. Which ain't too unusual, honestly. But when you combine it all together, you figure out that something nasty has gone down.

"Where's Pompeii?" Harley sits up from where she was resting. For most of the day I've been digging ditches with her. She's all kinds of annoying, but if you pretend she doesn't exist then she's real easy to work with.

"Dead." Silve slings a backpack to the ground and I get a good look at what used to be our leaders belongings. No doubt about it. He's dead.

I let out a low whistle. "That ain't good."

"No shit!" Mario fixes me with a scowl before turning to glare at Harley. She just wants to blame everyone, it seems.

There's a long silence. Everyone keeps glancing at one another, as if they're expecting an attack at any moment. I already have my axe in hand. I stroke its hilt, wondering if I could survive a battle royal between us all.

I'm not smart, but I sure the hell ain't stupid either. Pompeii was the glue that held this whole thing together. Without him, well...I roll my shoulders, readying for a fight. First things first, I'll swing my axe into Aphrodite's face. That snob's been fixin' to fight me since I joined the Careers. After she's dead, I'll try to skedaddle. If my luck is good the others will be busy fighting one another. If it's not good...then, well...

That's when the real fun starts.

The others have noticed the tension. Aphrodite slowly but carefully makes her way across the deck, not stopping until she's beside Harley. Seeing this, Mario angles herself so that she's facing the two of them. Silve stands a few feet behind her.

That leaves me in the middle.

Hot damn. The things I do for love. Daniel and Lisa better appreciate this! Though I know I'd still do this whether they did or not. The problems of being an older brother.

We stand in a triangle, each of us eyeing the others warily. Who will make the first move? Personally I'm hoping that the rest all get distracted hacking at each other so that I can slip away. Probably not gonna happen, but I can dream.

"What the hell are you all doing?" We freeze, then slowly turn to see Silve watching us with a bewildered expression. It's a change for the normally stoic boy. He almost looks human. "Do any of you understand the predicament that we are in?"

Mario shuffles her feet uneasily while Harley lowers her weapon. "I didn't mean to--"

Silve continues on over her. "There's still twenty tributes left. Do the math. If we turn on one another we'll be left to face off against fifteen other tributes; fifteen tributes who will see us as a threat and want us dead immediately."

He has a good point. The others see it too. Slowly they all begin to lower their weapons, looking at each other sheepishly. Silve watches with narrowed eyes, then nods. "The only reason the Careers ever lose is because they turn on each other too early. Let's not make that mistake."

Those are probably the most words I've ever heard him string together. He must feel strongly about this. Well, good for him. Still won't make me trust the others, though.

"What now?" Harley looks lost as she gazes around at the cornucopia and the organized supplies. "We have no leader, no plan, and no real direction. What are we supposed to do?"

"Get a new leader?" Silve says, scratching his head. I slowly nod in agreement.

"And which of you two fools do you think it should be?" Aphrodite asks dryly. Her large eyes glance from Silve to me. "At this point, what makes any of us better suited to lead then anyone else?"

Once again that solemn, dreading silence returns. Everyone looks at everyone else with suspicion. I get the most looks. Are they frightened? Or do they just want me dead? I still want to slam my axe into Aphrodite's face. Is that an option?

"Does anyone have any suggestions for who should be leader?" Harley asks.

"I don't want Aphrodite being leader," I say. "She's a real bitch."

"Do we really need a leader?" Mario speaks before Aphrodite can snap off a retort. The small girl turns in a semi-circle and addresses us all. "We're all capable of our own thoughts and actions. We can all decide what is best for ourselves. So why the hell do we need a leader?"

Silence greets her words. Then Silve shakes his head. "If we do not have a leader we will fracture and each do what ever we think is best. That will lead to our deaths."

"So instead we should do what you think is best?" Aphrodite challenges.

He shakes his head. "No, I don't want to be leader."

And that, I realize, is the root of our problem. There ain't nobody who wants to be leader. Hell, the only reason Pompeii was made leader was 'cuz nobody else challenged him after claiming the position.

"Like I said before," Mario stands in the center of the group, defiant with hands on her hips. "We don't need a leader. None of the other alliances have a leader. So why do we? We're stronger than they are, faster than they are, smarter than they are. If they don't need anyone mollycoddling then, then neither do we."

There's no more objections. Everyone just looks at each other and shrugs. Apparently the decision has been made and the Careers will no longer have a leader. I don't know if that is good tactics or not but, as long as I'm still alive, I really don't care.

Omega Quells (District 11)
The arena has long since been covered in the scary darkness, but my allies keep talking. The five of them are gathered around the small fire that Zamara started, chattering away about something or other. None of them pay me any attention. I'm just a small, useless little girl.

Alpha has been in my thoughts all day. I can't help but think of him. He was so big, so strong. I thought that maybe, just maybe, he had a chance of winning. But I was wrong. He died. And it was all my fault.

We'd have never been here in the Games if not for me. I ruined Alpha's life. I destroyed everything he held dear, even if it was all an accident. He must have hated me in his final moments. I know I hate myself. I'm useless and stupid.

"We might even be able to defeat the Careers!" Luigi is standing by the fire, featuring with his hands. "We have the same amount of people that they do. We could take them down in a fight!"

From his spot sitting beside Lavender, Armado shakez his head. "That's stupid. They have more skill and weapons then we do. It would be a slaughter." I don't like the boy. He's scary. His eyes are hard and filled with anger. He's always glaring at me, and he never says anything nice to anyone but Lavender. Even Alpha never really liked him.

"You do realize we'll need to confront them eventually, right?" Luigi is eager to die. Why else would he want to fight the Careers? They were strong enough to kill Alpha, so they're strong enough to kill anyone. They'll kill Luigi. They'll kill Armado. They'll even kill me.

The idea of death no longer frightens me. Better to die then feel pain.

"The longer we wait the more likely it is that the Careers will weaken themselves by fighting over alliances!" Armado argues.

"I do believe there is a problem with that theory," The boy who was with Armado speaks up for the first time in this conversation. He's tall and lanky, with dark hair and kindly eyes. He's not as scary as some of the others, but I still don't like him. Alpha would never have trusted him.

"What problem?" Armado demands.

Topher splays his hands to the side. "There are no other alliances for the Careers to weaken themselves against. The Fools are dead, the Anti-Careers split up. Who is there other than us that poses a viable challenge?"

There's a long pause. Then Zamara's voice carries over the rest. "There's some pairs. Takeko from District 10 and that District 12 girl, for one."

"The District 12 girl isn't very strong," Luigi says slowly. He almost sounds regretful. "And I doubt Takeko could put up much of a threat by herself."

"There has to be another alliance out there," Lavender says. "Doesn't there?"

"The Five girl and Eight boy," Zamara answers promptly. Of all the new people in our group, Zamara is the only one I like. She's nice, and she talks to me. None of the rest even bother looking at me. She also saved us from those horrible monsters. Death doesn't scare me anymore, but those monsters do.

"Cecil and Corin, you mean," Armado nods, responding to Zamara. "Yeah, I think that the two of them could weaken the Careers for us."

"Don't be stupid!" Even through the darkness I can see the scowl on Luigi's face. "The two of them can't do much on their own. I mean, we don't even know if they have any weapons!"

"In short," Zamara says grimly, "We can't count on anyone else to take out the Careers."

Of course not. I don't know why they were even debating that. The Careers are invincible. They'll kill us all one by one. There's nothing anyone can do about it. I don't care if I die, but I wish that I could see Alpha one last time...

Suddenly the sky lights up and strange music begins pouring in. I jump in surprise and am about to run for it when Zamara stands and says, "Looks like the Anthem has finally arrived."

Oh, right. I shift from foot to foot, feeling even more stupid and useless. The Anthem isn't even important. Thanks to Luigi and Topher, we already know everyone who died today. We don't need to see their faces. As everyone else turns their attention to the sky, I look out at the burnt remains of the forest.

And see someone standing there.

I open my mouth to scream but cut off with a gasp. I know that face! I've seen it every day of my life. Serious brown eyes, short but neatly kept hair, and a body as muscular as any Career.

Alpha stands just outside the range of the fire's light, watching me with sad eyes.

How...how could this be? I saw Alpha die with my own eyes! I watched as a claw descended from the hovercraft and took took his body away. Alpha is dead, killed by the Careers.

But then how is he standing right in front of me?

Alpha nods, then he motions for me with his hands before disappearing into the shadows that surround our camp. I take a step forward, then turn back and look at my allies. They're still gathered around the fire, arguing loudly about something they must have seen in the sky.

They'll never notice me leaving. Quiet as a mouse, I head off into the darkness, following my brother. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust, but I eventually spot him just ahead of me. He seems to be heading towards the hot springs biome. "Alpha, wait!"

He doesn't turn around. He just keeps walking. I follow doggedly, eager to ask him how he survived the Careers blades and fooled the Capitol. He must have returned so that he could take me from the arena too. Isn't that what he always said? That he would find a way for us both to survive?

Alpha takes me to one of the pools, the kind that bubbles and foams. Armado says that it's boiling hot, but I don't know if I believe him. It's too pretty to be dangerous. As I'm examining this, Alpha halts.

"There you are, little sister," He greets me with a small nod. A beaming smile crosses my face. That's his voice! I'd recognize it anywhere!

"Alpha!" I rush forward and hug him, wrapping my small arms around him. He even feels the same! "I was so worried! I thought that you died!"

"I didn't mean to worry you," Alpha pats me gently on the head. "But you must forgive me. Things were not in my control."

"It's okay, Alpha. I forgive you!" Tears are pouring down my face. I thought I'd lost him! But now he's back! My big brother is back and he's here to save me! I begin to sob softly. "I'm just...so glad...I could see you again..."

"I'm sorry, Omega. I'm so sorry."

"Huh?" I let go of my hug, looking up into my big bro's eyes. "Why are you sorry?"

"A brother is meant to protect his little sister. But I failed. I am sorry."

There's a sharp pain in my chest at hearing him say these words. Why is he apologizing? I am the one who did everything wrong. I'm the one who harmed our family, who got us sent into the Games. I'm the one who should be apologising. "Alpha..." The pain in my chest is even worse now. I feel like my heart is about to explode. "I'm...sorry. I shouldn't have...done the things I did..." Why does my chest hurt so much? Body shaking, I look down and see why.

"Oh."

The blade of a knife is buried in my chest. Alpha holds the handle.

My legs collapse under me. I hit the ground, feeling both pain and bliss. I'm dying. But I got to see Alpha again, so it's alright. I don't even care that he killed me. I deserved it. I was a bad girl who deserved to die.

My vision has begun to darken, but I can just make out Alpha's face as he kneels down beside me. There is sadness in those familiar eyes. "Rest in peace, little sister. Rest in peace."

Armado Roynclaw (District 6)
Omega is dead. We're not sure how or why, but the fact of the matter remains that she is dead. No one can exactly remember the last time they saw her; Lavender thinks it might have been right before the Anthem while Topher claims he saw her just after it. It doesn't matter, not to me. Omega is dead. That's all there is to it.

"It's not confirmed she's dead," Luigi says. The tall boy is standing on the edge of the burnt forest, right on the cusp of the hot springs. "That cannon could have been for anybody."

Yes, we didn't find Omega's body. We didn't even know she was missing until we heard the cannon. But I doubt that it was a confidence that she went missing moments before that cannon went off.

"Don't be stupid," I rub my injured hand, which still stings something fierce. "Omega is definitely dead. The only question is, who killed her?"

Hours have passed since we first discovered her missing. Zamara insisted that we comb the area and search for either Omega or her killer, but we found nothing. No trails. No footprints. No blood. Whoever the killer was, they know how to cover their tracks. Eventually Zamara called the whole thing off and the five of us regrouped on the small strip of grass between the forest and hot springs. We've been here ever since.

"Armado is right," Zamara speaks from where she sits cross-legged on the ground. She looks terrible. Her face is pale and haggard, but her eyes are hard as ice. "Someone murdered Omega while we were distracted with the Anthem."

I shoot Topher a glare. The thin boy is seated beside Zamara, absent-mindedly plucking out strands of grass. He had mistakenly told us that Emma was dead when, in fact, Pompeii was dead instead. That mistake was what lead to the chaos that distracted us so much that we didn't even notice Omega had disappeared.

"But what do we do know?" Lavender speaks up for the first time in hours. She's been practically glued to my side since I met up with the group. Her long blonde hair is tied up in a braid and her blue eyes are full of worry as she stares at Zamara. "For all we know that killer could be planning on coming back to kill the rest of us!"

"I'd like to see them try!" I run a hand down the length of my spear, imagining the tip running through the throat of an attacker. Anyone can be strong when they're slicing down a twelve year-old from behind. But it's a different matter entirely when you're facing someone like me, someone who has a weapon and the desire to use it.

"We need to think of a plan," Zamara taps a finger against her knees. "Preferably one that helps us take down the Careers." That girl has a one track mind. In the short time I've known her she has done nothing but speak about how we need to end the Careers. I'm not even sure why she's so against them. They certainly haven't wronged in any personal way yet. Zamara sighs. "Take five, everyone. I need to think."

I nod and turn away from the group, approaching a fallen tree and sitting on it. Lavender follows and kneels beside me. "I don't know what to think of them," I say, gesturing to our "allies". "I certainly don't trust any of them. For all I know, one of them might have killed Omega."

"Why would they have done that?" Lavender asks quietly.

I shrug. "Dunno. But didn't Luigi tell us how Teddy died? Maybe Luigi himself actually killed him. Or maybe Lilah has secretly followed him and decided to repeat her kill here. Who knows?" There's too much doubt. Too much uncertainty. I had never expected this to be the case, but I actually preferred my time alone in the arena. At least then I knew who my enemies were.

"I think we can trust Topher." I glance at Lavender in surprise. Topher? Well, maybe. But he's about as useful as a wet blanket. Why would we even want him around? In fact, why do we want any of them around?

"I think we should leave," I blurt it out to Lavender before I can let myself second guess. "The others can't be trusted and I don't want to stick around for when the Careers inevitably target this alliance."

I feel better after getting that off my chest. I wait for Lavender's response as she sits beside me, twirling her braid around in a circle. She frowns, then opens her mouth just to close it again. Finally she shakes her head. "I'll do whatever you decide, Armado. We're together in this. I'll stick with you to the end."

I blink in surprise. I hadn't expected such a declaration from her. I stare at Lavender longer, taking in her clear, honest eyes, her small nose, and calm pale complexion. She's beautiful. I had noticed it before, but I never really let myself dwell on the fact. The two of us agent ever been together under normal circumstances, after all. We've just always been stuck in life or death situations. If we weren't, would there have been a future for us?

I can't answer that. But I can tell Lavender what our plan will be. We can't stick with this alliance any longer. It's too dangerous. I open my mouth to say this when Zamara's voice rings out in alarm.

"Stop right there or I'll put an arrow in you!"

I hurl myself onto my feet, grasping my spear and angling it towards the edge of the clearing. Zamara is standing in the center, bow drawn and aimed at two tributes who have crept out from the woods. One is a serious, stern-faced girl, with long black hair tied back behind her head. The other is another girl, as tall as I am, with her brown hair shorn so short that I first think she's a guy. But I recognize her from training. Carey Brand, District 12. Which means that the other girl can only be her ally, Takeko.

"You can put your weapons down, we're not here to kill you!" Takeko almost sounds scornful as she puts her hands over her head. I don't remember much about the girl, but I do recall that she received a 10 in training. A deadly foe.

"Throw your weapons down, then we'll speak," Zamara keeps her voice calm, her bow still drawn and focused firmly on Takeko. Topher and Luigi are both behind her, watching the newcomers with wary expressions.

Takeko rolls her eyes. "If you insist." She takes her katana and slams it tip-first into the dirt, then grabs a knife from her belt and tosses it to the ground before looking back at Zamara. "Happy now?"

"You too," Zamara switches her aim to Carey. "Drop your weapons."

The girl stares blankly ahead. "I don't have any."

An obvious lie. What kind of tribute wouldn't have any weapons at this point in the Games? Even Topher's got his hands on some and he's pathetic! But, a lie or not, Zamara accepts this statement. Nodding her head, she slowly lowers her bow. "Okay. Now we can talk. What do you want?"

A sinister smile flickers across Takeko's face. "We want you to help us destroy the Careers."

Takeko Zhou (District 10)
Discussions over our plan don't go as smoothly as I'd have liked. Zamara is a keen strategist and is unwilling to just accept whatever plan I propose. No, she has to come up with her own ideas and try to get them implemented in several ways.

"I do think your idea about splitting into groups is a good one," She is saying as we're all gathered around a fallen tree, using it as a table of sorts on which we can plan. "But I don't like the idea of groups of two."

"Why not?"

"Because it weakens us too much. We're not as strong as the Careers are; our best chance at beating them is to outnumber them." Several of her allies murmur their agreement. I take careful note of which ones. Topher and Lavender seem the most keen to stick to larger groups. Not a surprise. Of course the weaklings would want to hide behind their stronger allies.

"So what do you suggest?" It's difficult containing my temper. I doubt these idiots could plan their way out of a paper bag. But I have to listen, lest I reveal my hand.

"We make three separate groups," Zamara sets a handful of small pebbles down on the log and begins to spread them into groups. "Group A will contain Topher, Lavender, and Carey. These three will focus on grabbing supplies and weapons."

The others begin to nod. Makes sense. I was surprised to learn that most of these kids didn't have weapons, let alone effective ones. Zamara continues placing the stones. "And Group B will include Luigi and Armado--their job will be to protect Group A."

"No. No, I don't like this!" Lavender shakes head as she interrupts the proceedings. "I won't leave Armado's side. The two of us need to be in the same group."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. What an idiot this girl is. Zamara, however, just nods. "Fine. You can join Group B with Armado and Luigi."

"What about Takeko?" Topher interrupts the conversation with a sideways glance at me. "You haven't placed her in a group."

"That's because Takeko and I will be the third group. The two of us have the hardest job; distracting the Careers and drawing them away from the cornucopia." I grimace but quickly erase the expression from my face so the others don't see. I don't want the Careers to leave the cornucopia. There'll be more death if they stick together. Because that's my true goal here.

To get as much tributes killed as possible.

The others don't know that. Not even Carey. That girl has already shown that she cannot be trusted. So I just told her as much as she needed to know, nothing more. She has no idea that I plan on betraying this band of motley fools the first chance I get.

"We will approach from the spoke that leads to the ominous woods," Zamara continues, oblivious to my thoughts. "And draw the Careers into that thicket. Then Group B will charge from their position along the hot springs spoke. If any Careers remained behind—and I bet some will—then Group B will deal with them while Group A secures weapons and supplies."

"Sounds good," I back away from the table and stretch my arms. "So, should we get moving? The plan won't work if the Careers go hunting before we even arrive." And the quicker we start the plan the sooner these tributes die.

But it seems not everyone shares that sentiment. Armado steps forward before Zamara can respond. For some reason he's favoring his arm in a way he wasn't before. What is he up to? I narrow my eyes at him as he begins to speak, "I don't know if I should be on the frontlines of this battle," He gestures with his "good" arm, "I'm not in top condition. I'd only slow us down."

"Have your injuries gotten worse?" Zamara asks.

Armado nods and it takes all my willpower to stop myself from scoffing. I don't buy this for a second! He's just trying to weasel his way out of danger and shrug all his responsibility off onto the others! Zamara sighs. "That is unfortunate, but you'll still have to be in Group B. You're the only one with a real weapon, other than Luigi, myself, and Takeko. We need you to protect the others at the cornucopia."

Armado's face darkens. Clearly he is not pleased. But he is wise enough not to say anything and when it becomes clear that there is nothing more to be said, Zamara continues. "If everyone is ready," Zamara turns to look at her allies. They all have different expressions. Luigi looks eager, Armado and Lavender suspicious, and Topher looks like he's about to wet his pants. Typical.

Everybody slowly voices their agreement and we begin to gather our equipment. I am not blind to the looks Armado throws my way. He clearly does not trust me. That makes him the smartest person in this alliance. Unfortunately for him, smart people are a threat.

Carey sidles up alongside me. "They think we killed Omega," She says with her usual lack of emotion.

"Who the hell is Omega?"

"The District 11 girl. She was an ally of theirs who died last night. No one knows who killed her."

That's news to me. Wonder who killed her. Probably one of their own. Maybe even Zamara herself. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a cold-hearted killer hiding behind that nice girl facade of hers. Still, it doesn't matter. She'll be dead soon enough.

We make our way towards the cornucopia, careful not to draw unwanted attention. Everything would be for naught if we are attacked by a roving band of mutts before we even reach our destination.

But luckily for us, we reach the outskirts of the wooden platform without anything of note occurring. Once there Zamara has us pause as she goes over the details of the plan again.

"Remember, do not approach the cornucopia until Takeko and I draw the Careers away. We do not want to face their full might, not yet." She pauses to let that sink in. "Once they're gone you can face whatever is left. But stick together. The Careers have been trained for this. You will not beat them by yourself."

"I've been waiting for this moment," Luigi says with a nod. "As leader of the Anti-Careers, it's my duty to make sure we take those bastards down." Because he's done such a wonderful job being leader so far. It's not like most of his alliance is dead or anything.

"I'll protect Lavender," Armado vows. The blonde girl beams at him.

"And I will ensure that I do not die unnecessarily!" Topher grins and half of those idiots laugh. Apparently they're not smart enough to be worried about this upcoming encounter. Whatever. No skin off my back.

"You ready?" I ask Zamara. She nods. "Then let's go."

Zamara and I crouch in the long grass that grows in the plains between the ominous forest and the wooden platform that holds the cornucopia. This is the same place where Carey and I observed the Careers yesterday. When she stopped me from killing the District 12 boy. That still rankles. The Careers would be one less right now if she hadn't been so weak-hearted. Fool.

"This'll be a tough shot," Zamara whispers. She's quietly loading her boe, trying to minimize movement to avoid drawing the attention of the Careers. We saw them as we crept out of the woods. All five of them are gathered around the center platform. None of them seem to be keeping watch.

"Why?"

"They're pretty far away. I'll have to shoot from here, because they'll see me the moment I step onto the spoke." True. No matter how dense they may be, that walkway is so wide open that even a blind bat would notice a girl strutting onto it with a strung bow. "Fortunately," Zamara adds with a small grin, "there doesn't appear to be any wind."

I scan the other spokes, where right now the others are camped out, waiting for us to begin the assault. They're probably hoping that Zamara kills one or two of the Careers with her arrows before they even have to fight. That is completely possible. Range can often be the deciding factor in the Games.

"You ready?" I ask, drawing my katana and examining its blade. Sharp. Sharp enough to kill.

"Yes...Here I go!"

Zamara stands, aiming her sights down at the Careers gathered down at the cornucopia. Who is she going to target? I personally would pick Silve. He is by far the deadliest tribute. Zamara let's out a breath, then looses an arrow. It arcs through the sky, flying over the walkway with ease. Then it begins to fall.

One of the female Careers, I cannot tell which, let's out a shout a moment before the arrow strikes Ash in the upper thigh. He flails forward, but catches himself on a crate. As he yanks the arrow out, the other Careers begin to shout. One of them points at us.

Zamara curses. "I was aiming for his heart, but the blasted range on this thing isn't good enough!"

"Doesn't matter. Looks like we got their attention." One of the Careers is already running straight for us. She gets halfway down the spoke before two others take off after her. To my surprise, Ash is one of them.

"Shoot them," I tell Zamara. She complies, stringing another arrow and loosing it at the approaching Career. But the girl smart. She pulls her shield up and the arrow deflects harmlessly off it.

The Careers quickly clpse the gap between us.

"Run into the woods," I give my katana a few test swings as Zamara takes off sprinting for the shelter of the trees. I'm tempted to stay and fight. I know that I could kill all three of them. It wouldn't be easy, but I could do it. But that is not my plan. I am after something bigger.

In the distance I can see Group B emerging from the burnt forest. Soon they will descend on the cornucopia. Then the death will begin.

I turn my face to the sky, where the cameras watch. "I killed them," I tell the audience, the Gamemakers, "Everyone who dies from this, dies by my hand. I didn't do it directly, but I am the one who set their deaths in motion. I am their killer."

The Careers have reached the edge of the walkway. They easily hop over the ditch I watched them build yesterday. I had forgotten about that. I wonder if Group A and B will notice.

As the Careers get close enough that I can see the whites of theor eyes, I turn and sprint into the forest, where Zamara waits to spring her trap.

Little does she know that I have a trap set for her too.

Mario Firth (District 4)
The morning light stretches over the arena as I pace back and forth. Most of the others are still asleep. Ash is on guard duty, lounging around on a crate and cleaning his nails with the blade of his knife. I glance at him as my pacing brings me close, "See anything?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Nope. Nothing."

I nod, then continue with my pacing. I am conflicted. I don't trust these people. I never trusted these people. But I need them. Winning will not be possible without them. But winning isn't possible with them either. Sooner or later one of us will try and kill the rest. But who will it be? And when will they strike?

I glance into the cornucopia. Silve is asleep in there, hidden behind all the crates. He really is paranoid. He even went far enough to carpet the ground inside the horn with some chips he found amongst our supplies. At first I had no idea what he was doing, but later he told me that it was for in case anyone tried to sneak up on him while he slept. Apparently he expects the sound of chips crunching under someone's feet is enough noise to wake him. It's not a bad idea. I wouldn't put it past Aphrodite to try and kill us in our sleep.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Aphrodite stirs from where she sleeps on the side of the cornucopia. Harley is next to her. Dammit. Why did those two have to be such good friends? I'd have killed Aphrodite by now if it wasn't for Harley. She's too unpredictable to keep around.

"Mario?" Harley sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Is something the matter?"

"No," I say instantly, turning and continuing on with my pacing. "Nothing is amiss." Yet.

Soon enough the others begin to wake. Aphrodite and Harley are getting breakfast ready when Silve wanders out of the cornucopia. His head swivels in place, staring at each of us in turn, before he nods and join me beside the railing overlooking the swamp.

"None of them left in the night," He says.

"Did you expect them to?"

"I thought it was a possibility. Pompeii was the only thing holding us together, after all." He seems thoughtful as he stares down at the dreary canopy of musgrave trees. Despite waking up only moments ago his eyes are clear and concise. "And then we chose to spurn the idea of a leader. A rash decision."

The question is evident in his voice. He wants to know why I neglected to let us choose a new leader. Well, let him wonder. He may be the only person here I have even the semblance of affection for, but he's still the enemy. I can't forget that. I mustn't forget. Everyone wants me dead.

As the seconds tick away without a response from me, Silve frowns. He pulls away from the railing with a sigh. "Very well. I see that you wish to think in peace. I'll leave you to it, then."

I watch him go with a twinge of guilt. Though they are nothing alike in age or appearance, he reminds me of Caspian. Perhaps that is why I attached myself to him....Caspian.

It's been a long time since I thought of him. Why? He's the most important person in my life, even moreso then my mother or sisters. I'm thinking that maybe I should try and say something to him through the Capitol's cameras when I remember that I need to distance myself from my emotions. They can only hold me back.

I'm about to turn back to the cornucopia when someone takes Silve's place beside me. Harley. The girl's pale face has a smile on it as she hands me an apple. "The weather is nice," She says pleasantly.

Weather? She must want something from me. But what? Trying to bide time, I accept the apple and take a bite. Harley switches her attention to the swamp below us. "Do you think there are tributes down there?" She asks, dropping the core of her own apple over the edge. I watch as it disappears into the murky water far below. "Or are they all in the other biomes?"

I swallow my mouthful of apple and toss the rest after Harley's. Then I turn away from the railing. "What do you want?"

Harley gives me a half-smile. She seems to have expected my brusque response, though she clearly would have preferred a more conventional one. "I just wanted to know where your head was at."

"Why?"

"Because I thought it best that we all know what each other is thinking. That was true before, but it's doubly important now that we don't have a leader."

"We're not friends."

She throws her head back and laughs. She actually laughs! When she stops, she fixes me with a firm gaze. "I realize that. Believe me, I know that we're all out here to kill each other. I'll kill you when the time comes and I know you'll kill me. But that doesn't mean we don't need to cooperate in the meantime. There's fourteen other tributes out there who want us dead yesterday. The only chance we have is to fight them as a team and make sure there are no cracks in our armor."

I hate her. I hate the fact that she is right. That her thoughts completely mirror my own. I bite my lip and shake my head. "You're right. But that still doesn't mean I need to make smalltalk with you." I tried that with Mercury. I formed a friendship with him. Then he wound up dead protecting me from Surorian. I don't need bonds. I don't need anything but the desire to win.

I stalk away towards the others. Harley doesn't try to stop me. We don't need to be friends to be a strong group. We just need to have the same goal. That's how it works, isn't it?

The other three are all standing in a semi-circle, quietly discussing the days plan. Since we have no leader they agree on nothing. Not a surprise. I got rid of the leadership position because I didn't want some asshole telling me what to do, but I had also expected that our productivity would dip. It's the lone con to all the pros.

Silve notices me and dips his head in acknowledgement. Then he sees Harley behind me and his eyes darken. Does he think that I made as kind of pact with her? Knowing how paranoid he is, I bet he does. Whatever. I have other things to deal with right now.

I turn to address the entire group. "Listen up. I know that we don't have a leader, but I think that we need to make the cornucopia even more defensive. I suggest that we—"

Hiss!

Ash stumbles forward, shouting in pain and shock as an arrow appears in his thigh. Everyone panics. Silve raises his sword over his head and ducks behind a crate as Aphrodite points into the distance, "Over there!"

I see it. Across one of the walkways a lone tribute stands, staring us down. As Ash rips the arrow from his leg, Aphrodite let's out a battle cry and rushes forward.

Silve, still behind his crate, curses. "Harley, Ash go with her!" The two cast each other dubious looks. Neither seems keen on the idea. Silve let's out a roar of anger, the first time I've ever seen him lose his cool. "Now, dammit! Go after her now!"

That does it. The two go sprinting after Aphrodite, Ash lagging behind. Probably because of his leg. Confused as to what I am to do, I turn to Silve. He's staring at the spoke directly opposite the one our allies are running down. A small chuckle escapes his lips. "Clever. They're clever."

"What are you talking about?" I swivel around to follow his gaze and my heart drops when I see it. Three tributes are charging out of the burnt woods, sprinting full speed towards the cornucopia.

Silve begins to walk towards them.

"What the hell are you doing?" I'm about to grab him and haul him back when I see them out of the corner of my eye. Two tributes are slinking about on the edge of the hot springs spoke. Dammit! Even more attackers! Has the entire arena decided to attack?

"Mario, take care of those two," Silve is as calm as he ever was, all traces of his brief anger gone. "I'll handle the trio."

I don't have time to argue. With all of our allies gone Silve and I are the only ones left to defend the cornucopia. And I know that I have no shot against three tributes. But two. Two tributes I might be able to take.

"Don't die!" I tell Silve, pulling up two of my poisoned knives. For a moment I'm about to surge forward and confront the two tributes, but I pull back at the last second. Those two think that their allies will have us all preoccupied. They won't know that I'm still here, waiting for them. If I hide...

I duck inside the cornucopia, pressing myself against the inside wall. I can hear shouts as Silvr confronts the trio, but underneath all that I hear their footsteps. I steady my breathing, clear my mind. I only have one chance to surprise them. I can't mess it up.

"They're all gone..." A male's hushed voice speaks as they arrive. It's faintly familiar, but I can't place the speaker.

"Grab supplies. That's what we're here for." A dead, emotionless voice answers him. I hear the movement as they begin to head for our crates. And then I know it's time to strike.

I slide out from my cover, spinning to face the pair and whipping out my knives in quick succession. Topher's eyes widen in shock at my sudden appearance. Then he ducks. It is just like last time, at the bloodbath. The pair of knives go spinning over his head. Straight towards Carey.

One of my knives goes wide left, missing her completely. The other is more accurate, spiralling towards her face. That is where I hit Nicholas. How I killed him. I think that I have another kill, but the girl has a surprise for me.

She's faster than I would ever have thought. Seeing the knife zeroing in on her, she does the only thing anyone in this situation could. She throws her hands up to protect her face.

The knife slashes into the palm of her hand, slicing through the flesh. She lets out a howl of pain and drops to one knee. I curse. She should be dead. But because she is a quick thinker (or just had instinctive reflexes) she is still alive. But not for long. I can still kill them both.

I slam into Topher, taking him to the ground. The boy yelps in fear and tries to bat at me with his pathetic little arms. I swat his blows away and pull a third knife from my belt. The tip of the blade glints as I hold it over Topher's face. His eyes shine with the fear only a cornered animal knows. I begin to bring it down when something grabs the back of my collar and yanks me off him.

I hit the ground but bounce right back to my feet. Carey is facing me down, her face is still as blank as ever, but I can tell from the way she holds her arm that she is hurting from the blow of my knife.

I snarl in rage as I realize I left my trident and spear in the cornucopia. Stupid! So stupid! I'll have to beat her in a hand-to-hand fight. But I hesitate, for I know that is a weakness of mine. Being so small has its advantages, but they are inconsequential when compared to all the disadvantages.

Carey acts before I can. She lunges for me and I move to intercept her attack only to discover it is aa feint. I stagger mid-motion, suddenly off balance, when Carey's arms wrap around my shoulders and hurls me at the cornucopia. I see the crystal as I speed towards it but I have no way of halting my momentum before the crown of my head slams into it.

I black out.

When I come to, I'm on the ground, rolling and moaning as the world swims around me. Everything is blurry. I try to stand but my legs give out almost immediately and I collapse back onto the ground.

I can hear footsteps. I roll onto my back and see Topher and Carey sprinting back down the pathway that they came. Each of them are holding two bags. I curse softly, then try to rise once more. And once more I fall to the ground. Dammit! Damn it all!

A scream pierces the air. One of fear and despair. Despite my aching head, I smile. Silve must be doing well. But I am in no position to assist him. As I lie on the ground, recovering from my ordeal, I silently hope that Silve wins his fight. Because if he doesn't, if one or two of those tributes survive and make their way to the cornucopia, I know that I will not be in any condition to fight them off. Which means one important thing.

I will die.

Lavender Morton (District 6)
Armado and I sit silently in the bushes, waiting for Zamara and Takeko to attack the Careers and start the assault that just might end with all of us dead.

I'm afraid. Takeko and Carey were such hard, cruel looking girls. Neither of them ever smiled except for when Takeko spoke about death. That alone is worrisome. Who smiles over death? I didn't want to ally with them, but I didn't have a choice. Zamara and Luigi were all for the idea, and there was nothing I could say to dissuade them.

"Cheer up, Lavender!" A hand appears on my shoulder as Luigi approaches us from behind. There's a smile on his face. One completely different from Takeko's. "You won't be in any danger, not with Armado and I protecting you."

I nod numbly. My mouth is dry. I'm too nervous to speak. There's a reason why all of is fear the Careers. They're the strongest, most athletic tributes in the arena. What chance do we have at beating them? With Takeko and Zamara we might stand a chance, but if they're only drawing them away...

Luigi frowns, apparently put off by my silence. I want to say something that will put him at ease but I don't know what. Then I'm saved from having to answer by Armado. "How many of the Careers do you think you can kill, Luigi?" He asks, shifting his feet beneath him.

"Hmm...all of them?" Luigi taps his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe not Silve. But I'm pretty sure I could handle the rest."

"Great," Armado mutters under his breath, not sounding very reassured. "Just great."

As Luigi walks off again, I lean in close to whisper to Armado. "I don't like this. This whole attack feels...off."

He nods. "I know what you mean. We shouldn't be here. If only we had enough time to slip away…" But there's no time. Luigi is always within view of us, and I know that the moment he learned we were trying to desert that he would turn on us and attack. I don't want to fight him. But I don't want to fight the Careers either.

At the edge of the brush, Luigi suddenly freezes. He's staring out at the cornucopia, then turns to look at us. "It's time! Three of the Careers are running off! Looks like Zamara did her job!"

My heart stops. It's time. I look to Armado as he rises to his feet. He looks determined. But to do what? "Is your hand okay?" I ask, remembering what he said earlier.

He nods, giving Luigi a strange look. "Yes. I'm good to go."

And go we must. Luigi is already yelling for us, telling us that it's time to charge. Then we're moving. Armado sprints ahead of me, running for the platform. "Stay behind me!" He yells behind him.

Then I'm running with him. All three of us are running. The air stinging our faces as we sprint across the hundred meters of plains that separates the forest from the platform. A shout comes from the cornucopia. A lonely, hollow shout that echoes across the morning sky.

I feel foolish. Why am I doing this? Armado and I should have slunk away into the woods when we had a chance! There's nothing to be gained in this suicide attack. Nothing at all. I don't even have a weapon. All I have is an awl. What is an awl, compared to the Careers swords, spears, and knives?

But it's too late now. We can't pull out. We're nearing the platform. I can see the barricade of crates that the Careers set up. Soon we will be fighting with the toughest tributes in the arena.

And I fear we don't stand a chance of winning.

Armado is in head. He's sprinting full speed, his long legs taking in more distance with each stride then either I or Luigi can manage. He looks impressive, with his spear held out before him and his face a mask of determination. So impressive, that for a moment I'm fooled into a false sense of security. Then the ground beneath him gives out and he goes tumbling into nothingness.

I scream, but am unable to stop my momentum. My feet skid against the grass as I slide towards the sudden hole, desperately trying to stop myself. I'm about to go slip off the edge wheb Luigi grabs my shoulder and yanks me backwards.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Then I remember Armado.

"Armado!" I pull myself up to the edge and look down. What I see fills me with dread. The pit is only about four feet deep, but it is filled with spears and sharpened sticks. Some of these weapons are embedded into the bottom of the pit, while others are stuck into the sides. And, at the very bottom, lies Armado.

He is alive, thankfully, but he is screaming in pain and thrashing about wildly. One of the spears has gone straight through his thigh, while another has ripped through his hand. "Armado!" I scream again, this time just as desperate as before. He's not dead, but he's terribly wounded and trapped on the outskirts of the cornucopia. If I don't get him out soon, he will be dead.

"Luigi! Help me get Armado out!" I scramble to the edge and stick my hand down, trying to grasp Armado. Still screaming with pain, he grabs the spear that has gone through his hand and rips it out. I shudder. "Luigi! Now!"

But the tall boy doesn't help me. Instead, he points. "I...Lavender, look at that!" I whip my head up and see it. Marching down the spoke at a leisurely pace and heading this way is none other than Silve.

My heart stops. Silve. Not just a Career, but the strongest Career. I wouldn't be able to beat him in a fair fight at full health. I definitely stand no chance against him whilst trying to protect and rescue Armado.

I'm too terrified to think. My heart is thudding in my chest and I want to scream once more. I'm hyperventilating. Terror traps itself in my chest, tensing me, making me swallow the air as though it'll give me the answer to this problem. What do I do? How do I do it?

Luigi thinks for me. "Lavender, get Armado out of that howl!" He orders, leaping across the pit and striding his way down the spoke, towards Silve. "I'll take Silve. I've been waiting for this rematch."

I nod numbly, then I realize that this doesn't help. I don't know how to get Armado out. Don't know if I'm strong enough. What am I supposed to do? I hear Luigi as he confronts Silve. They exchange words. Then I hear the sounds of battle. Of harsh blades clanging together, chipping, and grinding. I don't have time. I don't have nearly enough time!

"Lavender..." Armado draws my attention. He has somehow managed to pull his leg free of the spear and is trying to stand. But the mud gives little traction and his wound is too great, so he keeps slipping back down. "You...need to pull me up."

How did things go so poorly so fast? We never even got to the cornucopia, yet we're already doomed. Arms shaking, body trembling, I lean my hand into the pit. "Armado, grab on!"

He clasps my wrist and I try to heave him up. Muscles strain as I pull, pull with everything I have. Armado tries his best to help, but the wound in his leg is deep and he's losing so much blood that I'm amazed he's even conscious. I feel my body begin to betray me, to weaken. I'm thinking that I'll never get him out of this pit when his head appears over the edge and he wraps his non-injured leg over the side. With our combined effort, Armado is pulled free from the hole.

He collapses immediately. His face is pallid as he lies on the grass, breathing heavily as he tries to staunch the bleeding with his hands. "Lavender..."

"Don't speak, you need to conserve your energy," I tell him, trying to convince myself that I'll find a way to fix him. We don't have any medicine. None. How could I ever help him?

But then something happens that makes me forget everything else. It's a sound that I didn't want to hear, that I dreaded hearing. A sound that chills me to the bone.

The sound of silence.

This entire time the sounds of Luigi and Silve battling has been in the background, but now there is nothing. I slowly turn my head around and cry out in fear and despair when I see it. Luigi lies sprawled on the ground, his head at an awkward angle and staring sightlessly into the sky. A large, bloody gash stretches diagonally across his chest, from shoulder to waist. And standing over him is Silve with a bloodstained sword.

"You...need to...leave..." Armado's voice is barely more than a whisper. "Save yourself, Lavender. Run...away."

"No!" I shake my head, vision blurry with tears. "I won't abandon you! We promised we'd stick together!"

Silve has begun walking towards us. There's no malice in his expression. No excitement, no fear. There's just...emptiness. Almost as if it doesn't matter to him. That he doesn't care who he kills.

"Lavender, go!" There's more strength in Armado's voice now. He's managed to pull himself up into a sitting position, hands feebly clutching my shoulders. "Please! Just run! I don't want you to die!"

It takes everything I have to stand up. To stare Silve in the face as he easily hops over the pit. My legs feel like jelly. My heart thunders like one of the Capitol's high-tech trains. I've faced death in the face before, but I've never before thought that my story would end. I've always believed that I would be the hero who would survive until the end and right all the wrongs.

I was such a fool.

I lean down and pick up Armado's fallen spear. It feels strange in my hands. "I can't abandon you," I tell him softly. He's screaming now, screaming for me to run away and save myself. "I can't abandon you like everyone else has. Like Spanner did, like Bradley. Like Morina."

Silve has stopped moving. He's standing a few feet away, watching me with narrowed eyes. I send out a silent prayer for my family. The hero doesn't always survive until the end. Sometimes the hero dies doing what is right.

I let out a yell and charge Silve. He casually knocks my spear away with his knife, then drives his sword into my thigh. The pain is hot. So hot that the blood squirting out onto my leg feels cold by comparison.

Silve rips the sword free and I stumble backwards, dropping the spear. I fall to the grassy ground, splashing in Armado's blood. Silve raises his sword high, a looming silhouette against the stark gray sky, ready to fly down and end my insignificant life.

I didn't abandon Armado. So many people have left him, but I didn't. That might have been a stupid mistake that costs me my life, but it was the only choice I had. When you die doing the right thing, you at least know you died with honor.

Silve's sword comes down. I die.

Armado Roynclaw (District 6)
Silve's sword slashes across Lavender's throat.

I let out a scream of terror and fear as she falls to the ground. Gagging on blood. Eyes wide open and unfocused. If only I could have saved her. If only I could have protected her. But the world is hard and cruel. Just because you want something does not mean you can have it. Lavender was never meant to live long.

Neither am I.

Silve watches Lavender as she lies on the ground, her body trembling and shaking in death throes. His face, which had been calm the entire time he was murdering my friends, is suddenly filled with frustration. "There's nothing," He mutters, shaking his sword clean of Lavender's blood. "I was promised that the Games would give me purpose. Would fill that gap. But I still feel nothing."

I don't know what he's talking about. I don't care. I drag myself across the grass until I reach Lavender. Terror and despair fill me to the point that I no longer feel the pain in my leg or in my hand. The only pain I feel is the pain of loss.

I gather Lavender's head into my lap. She is so beautiful, even with the blood gushing from her throat. She was so kind. So cheerful. How could she have died so easily? What was the point of her surviving the bombing of District 6? Of the Peacekeepers bringing us to the Capitol instead of just killing us?

What was the point of any of it?

"Can I ask you something?" Body trembling with a mixture of bloodloss and grief, I look up to see Silve standing over me. His face is once again emotionless. I can't manage to make my lips move, so I just nod. He sighs. "What is your purpose in life? What is it that keeps you going? What gives your life meaning?"

If he had asked this question only months ago I would have had no answer for him. I would have laughed and brushed the question off as a stupid waste of time. But I've grown in my time inside the arena.

So, fighting against my body, fighting against the darkness that grows on the edge of my vision, I whisper the only answer I could ever give. "You just killed her."

"Hmm? I don't quite grasp what—Oh!" His face dawns with understanding. He looks down at Lavender, tightly wrapped in my arms, then back to me. He gains a new expression then. One I never thought I'd see on a Career. Sorrow.

"I…I know that nothing I say will ever make up for what happened, but I want you to know that I am sorry. For everything."

I blink through the tears glistening in my eyes to see Silve's sword hurtling through the air. A second later, the tip plunges straight through my chest. As my life trickles away, the only thing I can think is, 'What took so long?'.

Zamara Nostalic (District 0)
The forest stretches on all around me. Dark, bare, branches reach for the sky, blotting out the sun. There is no sound except for the occasional screech of a raven. I don't even hear Takeko or the Careers she should be leading this way. Has something happened?

I already have an arrow nocked to my bow. I'm camped out on the edge of a small clearing where the trees grow further apart--a rarity in the ominous woods--waiting for Takeko to arrive with the Careers. I wish she would hurry. I do not like this place.

I shuffle my feet and frown as they squelch on the forest floor. The floor is damp and stagnant with the odour of decomposing wood seeping into my nostrils. This is not a pleasant place.

It's hard not to think about the others and their attack on the cornucopia as I wait. Are they okay? Was my plan good enough to guide them to success? Or did I just guarantee their deaths? There's no way for me to know the answer to those questions. At least not yet.

Suddenly the sound of furious footsteps snaps me out of my thoughts. I swivel my bow, rotating it so that I face the direction of the footsteps. Breathing deeply, I draw my bow.

Takeko erupts from the shadowy forest, sprinting right through the clearing without even stopping. My arms tremble as I resist my instincts that yell at me to fire. Takeko is not the target. No, that's who comes next.

Aphrodite emerges from the woods mere seconds after Takeko. She still has her shield that she used to deflect my earlier arrows, but she's holding it at her side as she runs, too intent on hunting Takeko to realize the danger that she is in. I take one last breath and loose an arrow

This time I do not miss.

The arrowhead takes Aphrodite through the throat. The girl stumbles to the ground, surprise crossing her face for only a nanosecond before it is replaced by fear. Then she is thrashing on the forest floor, gagging on her own blood as it pours from her throat like water from a faucet.

I calmly nock another arrow. I will have no pity for her, or her friends. The Careers are all brutal beasts. And beasts must be put down, lest they bring harm to the civilized.

"Aphrodite!" Another Career has emerged into the clearing. Harley takes only two steps towards Aphrodite--who still lies on the ground, shaking with convulsions--before Ash reaches out and pulls her back behind a tree.

It is fortunate for her, because a moment later my second arrow zips through the empty air which, only seconds ago, was occupied by her head. I curse, then sling my bow back over my shoulder. The Careers are in the thick of the forest now, and it will be nearly impossible to hit them there. There's too much obstacles that would deflect my arrows, too much grasping vines that would offer them shelter. I need to pull back and reassess the situation.

I turn and plunge into the forest. Running is difficult, because mist has begun to wreathe on the thick, sticky, bare forest floor, making it next to impossible for me to watch my footing. But I can't slow down. The Careers will be infuriated that I killed one of their own and will no doubt be pursuing. I'm not prepared for melee combat. Takeko is supposed to be the one who handles that part.

But where is she?

I pull myself to a halt, surprised to find myself panting. I cast my gaze about the grass-less forest. Despite it being early morning, the forest is as dark as night. Sickly pale fungus glows from the trunks of skinny, gray trees, giving the only reliable light. There's a river nearby, a slow-moving thing surrounded by sucking mud. The waters are dark and lifeless. I wouldn't swim in there if someone paid me.

Snap!

The cracking of a fallen twig has me spinning on the spot. I pull out an arrow, notch it, then draw my bow, ready to loose at the first Career that shows themself. But it's not a Career. Takeko stalks out of the undergrowth, her face dark and angry as her long legs close the gap between us.

"Where were you?" I ask, letting my bow go slack. "I sprung the trap and killed Aphrodite. The rest are still out there, though." Only two, so I'm worried about my allies back at the cornucopia. Though they outnumber then five to two, Silve and Mario are deadly fighters. I will not be surprised to learn that I have lost some allies today.

Takeko gives me a shrug. "I did what I was supposed to. I drew the Careers to you."

True enough. I nod at her, examining the forest that spreads out around us. I didn't want to admit it, but I am lost. I have never been in this part of the arena before today, and the same, lifeless scenery does little to differentiate one part from the next. Which way back to the cornucopia?

I'm about to ask Takeko if she knows the way when a sudden, intense pain starts at my shoulder and works its way down to the elbow. I gasp and instincts take over. I spin, around, droplets of blood flying from my arm as I do, and use my left hand to pull a dagger from my belt.

Who attacked? Where are they? My eyes rotate in their sockets, taking in everything, but I am shocked to see that there is no mystery assailant. No Career. Just Takeko, with a bloody sword.

"What the hell, Takeko?" I stumble back from the girl, my eyes wide with fright. My right arm hangs limply at my side. Her sword has cut deep.

Takeko's only answer is to swing her katana at me. Thinking quickly, I swing my bow out in front of me. The sword cuts through the string and carbon fiber, cutting it in two. I watch helplessly as the bow which I worked so hard to get is set spinning away in pieces.

But I don't have any time to mourn. Takeko steps forward, already swinging her blade once more. I sidestep the sword only for Takeko to kick out a leg and hit me square in the gut. The impact of hitting the ground wallops the breath from my chest, and pain screams in my arm has it lands on a snaking tree root.

Takeko plants a boot on my chest, a sword raised over her head. She's going to kill me. It's become increasingly obvious that Takeko has decided that our truce has outlived its usefulness. She might even have had this betrayal planned out from the beginning! Well, the joke's on her. I'm not going down that easy!

As the sword begins to come down, I use my left hand to pull an arrow from my quiver. In one quick motion, I slam the tip into Takeko's shin.

The girl hisses in pain and steps off of me, bending over to rip the arrow out. I begin to scramble back to my feet only to get a boot to the side of the head. As I lay on the ground in a daze, I hear Takeko scream out in pain.

What is happening? My eyes swim with block dots as I roll on the ground, away from Takeko and her boots. By the time my vision clears, I see Takeko holding a hand to her ear; crimson blood flows out between her fingers. For a moment I am utterly confused. Then I see them.

Harley and Ash have appeared from the forest. Harley holds a knife in her hands. A matching knife lies on the ground near Takeko, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that she must have thrown it at the traitor. That explains the bloody ear.

Still, it does nothing for me. My death is still all but guaranteed. Takeko hisses in fury and whips her katana towards the two Careers but, to my surprise, she doesn't charge forward to fight them. Instead, she turns and runs away from them.

"Don't let her get away!" Harley cries, scrambling after her. "She'll pay for killing Aphrodite!"

The two Careers go sprinting off, leaving me all alone on the quiet forest floor. My mind is blank for several long moments. I shake my head to clear it, then wince when I'm reminded of the pain in my arm. They didn't notice me. They must not have, elsewise they would have killed me. Breathing shakily, I rise to my feet and lurch into the forest, the opposite direction Takeko and the Careers went.

Many questions whirl in my mind as I stumble away. How long had Takeko planned this betrayal? Was Carey in on it? Was her whole plan just an excuse to kill me? Did she even care about my allies?

Oh, God! My allies!

I grind to a halt, casting my gaze around for...anything. Despair is clutching my heart. Did Takeko purposely send my allies to fight the Careers knowing that they would get killed? And Carey. She is alone with Topher. Has she killed him? Has she betrayed him like Takeko betrayed me? There's no way for me to know. Not when I'm alone in this forest.

I force myself to keep moving. I won't find any answers by remaining stationery. My right arm hangs limply at my side as I go. The gash fron Takeko's sword is nasty. I know that I should try to clean it to prevent infection, but the only water available to me is in the ponds that populate the forest. But I daren't touch that water. Though it looks perfectly normal, I know better than to trust anything in this forest.

But I'm still tempted. I drop to my knees at the waters edge and starre deeply into its surface. Surely it is fine? I don't think that the Capitol would have poisoned one of the most common sources of water. That would be...fiendish, or foolish? I honestly don't know. And I cannot afford to take the risk. Sighing deeply, I stand up. Only then do I realize that I no longer remember which way I came from.

Uncertain, I pick a direction at random and set off. Many minutes pass. The scenery around me begins to repeat itself and I'm worried that I am just going in circles. How big is this forest?

Deep in thought, I round a tree and find myself face-to-face with Harley.

The girl's eyes bulge and she gasps in surprise. Her hands fumble for the warhammer at her side. But my hands are quicker. Using my left arm, I pull a dagger from my belt and drive it into her stomach, just below the ribs.

Harley stumbles backwards, her already pale face growing even paler. I look down at the handle of the dagger, surprised to find blood coating my hand. When I look back up, I'm staring into Harley's eyes. Her mouth trembles, "Blair..."

I rip the blade back out and she slumps to the ground. There's an odd sense of solemnity as I turn and run, but my mind is too preoccupied with other thoughts to wonder why that is.

How did the girl get here? And where's Ash and Takeko? My arm flares with pain as I crash through the undergrowth. My foot hits a rock and I go tumbling to the ground, landing beside the edge of a pond.

That's when I realize I've seen this pond before. It was the same one I stopped and observed when I first fled. I haven't been going in circles. I was going backwards.

A harsh laugh escapes my lips. All I did was run right into the people I was trying to escape. But Ash and Takeko were absent. Why was that? One reason could be that Harley lost Takeko in the woods and was doubling back. But if that was the case, then where is Ash? Did he--

Boom! A cannon jolts me out of my thoughts. I lift my head and silently count along as three more cannons follow. '''Boom! Boom! Boom!'''

Four. Four deaths. Who? Aphrodite and Harley are two, certainly. But what about the others? I sent five allies to confront two Careers at the cornucopia; was it possible that they had killed both of them? It sounds absurd, but the Careers were badly outnumbered and likely would have had no real escape route.

I shake my head. I have no time to be debating this. My arm still hurts like hell and is liable to wind up infected if I don't act. I have Anti-Infection, but I left it with Topher, because I believed that he would need it more. Foolish, perhaps, but I am not omnipotent. I could hardly be blamed for failing to see this coming. Still, Takeko will pay for her betrayal. She's shown herself to be no better than the Careers, and there is only one outcome for that.

I steadily climb to my feet and head off at a brisk trot, beginning my search for Topher. I can only hope that he is still alive.

Surorian Chaos (The Capitol)
I kneel on the stones, staring at the two swords embedded in the tussock of grass before me. Six knives are splayed out before them, and a chakram lies diagonally from them. My weapons. My beautiful weapons of destruction. They will help me accomplish my goal. They will help me kill.

When I was first sent into the Games I had foolishly believed that meant the Capitol had little trust in me and was merely sending me to die. But that wasn't the case at all. They had a plan for me. A grand plan. The Games themselves are the mission. Winning these will cement my position among the Capitol elite. Winning will grant me the power I deserve.

I bend my head and ask for a blessing as I grab the hilts of my swords, slowly taking them in my hands and rotating them until I place them in the double sheath on my back. My plan yesterday was a failure. The forest fire did not kill enough people. It did not kill my target. But no matter. Death will still come. He cannot be stopped.

I take my knives and, one by one, store them away. Two go on my belt. A third is slide into the sheath hidden on my forearm. A fourth in my boot. A fifth in the sheath behind my neck. The sixth strapped to my thigh. Weapons. Weapons are the blessings gifted upon this world. I can kill without them, but they make things so much easier.

Lastly, I take up my chakram and stand. Breathing deeply, I inhale the morning air. Nineteen tributes left. Eighteen more deaths. It can be done. It will be done. When the Capitol sent me into these Games, they gave me a singular goal. Win. At any costs.

I begin to walk, passing by the hot springs and murmuring to myself. "I looked, and behold, an ashen horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth."

The other tributes do not stand a chance. They will die. They must die. There is no other destination then death for them. For I am Surorian Chaos, master of weapons. I am Surorian Chaos, purveyor of doom.

I laugh quietly to myself. I was such an ignorant child at training. How did I not see it before? I am destined for greatness. For glory. The other tributes are mere children, yes. But that doesn't negate the splendor of my mission. Someone must kill them. And I'm the best at killing. It would only make sense for me to be the one to kill them all.

So I will.

She and the others have no chance of survival. None at all. They will die. They will die an ignoble death. And the last thing they ever see will be my face as I laugh. Laugh at their misery. Laugh at their sadness. Laugh at their end.

For I am Surorian Chaos.

I am death.

Lilah Jollenbach (District 8)
For the last several hours I've been sitting against this clump of rocks, listening to the cannons as they rang out across the sky. So far I've counted four. Four deaths. That means we're already down to sixteen tributes. My chances of winning have skyrocketed.

''Oh, come on! Do you really think you have any shot of winning these Games?'' Violet's voice sneers at my optimism. I had expected this, so I'm not too upset. Violet will take any chance she gets to try and bring me down.

But it won't work. Not this time. I've had enough of Violet controlling my life, of her manipulating me. From now on, I'll be the one who decides my own course. I'm the captain of my fate. Violet is just a passenger.

You talk too much.

I tighten my hand around the hilt of my knife. The same one I used to kill Jonah. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling guilty about that. I am. But at the same time I realize that there was nothing else to be done. He was attacking me and I needed to defend myself. It wasn't murder. Not really.

Was what happened to Teddy murder?

Teddy. Flashes of light scatter across my vision. I might have killed him. I might have...no! I didn't kill Teddy. That's all there is to it. There's nothing to be gained from dwelling on the past. You need to keep looking forward or you'll never move on.

I turn to look at my surroundings. With the exception of a few piles of scattered rocks, there's nothing but those flat endless stones and the occasional hot spring. The sky is the same color of the stones. Grey. So much grey. This is a truly desolate place.

I find myself wondering if Luigi and Jayda are still out there. They were alive as of last night's Anthem, but five cannons have sounded since then. Five different opportunities for them to have died.

I don't know if I want them dead or not.

Both of them think I am a murdering psychopath and probably want me dead, but they were my friends at one point. I laughed with them, ate with them, even told stories with them. It feels wrong to wish that they die.

''Ugh. You really are a stupid snotrag, you know? It's not as if there was ever a scenario where you all lived!'' I bite my lip as Violet speaks. Unlike most of the time she rants, she's actually right. There never was any chance that we all survived. Only one person lives. We've known that since the start. But knowing and accepting are two different things.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the rock. It's cool to the touch. Maybe I should just get some rest. I had wanted to spend the day building some traps, but that would be pointless. There's nowhere to place them here in the hot springs, and I don't even have any material to build one anyways.

Tributes keep dying without my involvement, so why change anything? I can just sit here and wait for everyone else to kill themselves. That would by far be the easiest and safest course of action. I don't need to do a thing.

"Hello, Lilah."

My eyes snap open. Standing at the edge of the nearest hot spring with a hand on her hip and a smile on her face is the last person I ever expected to see.

Jayda.

I scramble to my feet, reaching for my weapons. How did she get here? Why didn't I hear her approaching? I pull my knives out and face my former ally down, mind still whirling at her sudden appearance. "What do you want?"

"Come now, is that any way to greet an old friend?" Jayda frowns as she takes a step forward. I try to back up only to smack rear into the rockpile I was leaning against. Retreating is not an option. Jayda pauses, placing a single finger on her cheek. "Then again, I don't suppose you ever really considered me a friend, did you?"

"What. Do. You. Want." I'll kill her if I have to. I didn't want to, wasn't planning to, but she's given me no choice.

Jayda frowns. "I don't want to kill you, if that's any consolation." I catch the extra emphasis she puts on 'want'. Why? Does she intend to kill me under the guise of being forced to?

"Then go away!" I try to hold my anger in check. Jayda is the reason I had to abandon the alliance. If I had never blown up at her, then they would never have known about Violet, never have accused me. "I don't want anything to do with you."

To my surprise, Jayda backs off. Holding both hands in the air, she tilts her head sideways and smiles disarmingly. "I don't have any weapons on me. Does that negate your suspicions?"

Don't trust her! Violet's voice screams in my head. ''She's going to betray you! Just like everyone!''

For once, Violet's thoughts perfectly align with my own. Jayda cannot be trusted. I don't know what she intends to do, but it most certainly benefits her alone. I can not, will not get involved with this. I just want to sit back and let the other tributes forget about me. Why won't she allow that?

"I didn't kill Teddy," I say suddenly. I don't know why it matters, but I want her to know this. "I didn't have anything to do with his death."

"Oh, I know," Jayda's eyes twinkle mysteriously. "Nylah was the one who ended his life. Unfortunate, but true."

"I..." She knows who killed Teddy? Since when? And why hasn't she told everyone else? Why did she keep this from me and the others? Many thoughts swirl in my head, but none of it matters. Not anymore. "No." I have a knife out now and I point it tip-first at Jayda. "I don't care if you don't have any weapons. You will leave. Now."

"Hmm. I don't think I will," Jayda stares at me with those cold calculating eyes of hers. "And I don't believe you can force me to leave. So, it appears we have reached an impasse."

"No, we haven't," I shake my head slowly. It is unfortunate it has come to this, but she has left me with no other choice. As Jayda frowns at my words, I step forward and slide my knife between her ribs.

Her green eyes widen in surprise, then flicker down to the knife in her chest. Blood flows out and over the blades handle. "You really shouldn't have done that, Lilah."

"You left me no choice." I rip the knife back out and Jayda tips over sideways. She hits the uneven, rocky ground and goes rolling down the incline. She eventually comes to a stop at the edge of a pool, lying face first on the cold, unyielding rock.

I'm surprised to find myself shaking. Why am I shaking? I've killed before. And Jayda forced my hand. I didn't have a choice. I didn't. I stare at her body for a long time, wondering if I should check her for supplies. But I can't bring myself to loot her corpse like that. It would be too...disrespectful.

I stagger away from the body, trying to understand what Jayda was even attempting to accomplish. Surely she wouldn't have wanted to ally with me? She was adamant that I had betrayed her before. But here she seemed to tell me that Nylah of all people had killed Teddy. I don't know when she learned this or how, but it doesn't matter anymore. All of that is in the past and I can only focus on the future.

Fourteen. That's how many tributes stand between me and victory. Now that Jayda is dead, I no longer have to worry about her spreading the word about me being psychotic. That means no one should be focusing on me. There's too many other threats out there for anyone to take the time to come after me. I should be able to stay out of the way for another day or two before anyone even remembers my existence.

Unnoticed and silent. That's what I'll be. Just like an assassin should be.

Cecil Thayer (District 8)
"I don't know how to feel about all those cannons."

"Happy, I guess. Every death brings us one step closer to winning, right?" I shuffle my feet so that I'm closer to shelter of the bush we're hidden under. I breath in deeply, inhaling the scents of the afternoon air. Though I would never admit this to Corin, I'm nervous.

Today is the day that the two of us make our presence known. For the most part of the Games we've just been lying low, letting everyone else take each other out as we stuck to the shadows. But we change that today. Today, if everything goes as planned, we will take out a tribute.

"I'm obviously glad that they're dead," Corin sounds dismissive as she continues. "But I don't like how it happened. So many tributes dying so quickly is never a good thing. Either the Gamemakers unleashed a trap, or the Careers have just clashed with another alliance. And if two alliances have just fought, then that means the stragglers are now wandering all over the arena."

Wow. She's put a lot of thought into this. I don't know even know how to respond, so I just shrug. "I 'spose."

"Whatever. Just keep that in mind, will you?" I hear Corin's head swivel as she starts to take in our surroundings. "This looks like a good position for the ambush," She says.

I nod even though I cannot see the location. But Corin had described it for me and I can sense and hear what no one else can. The bush we're hiding under is a large frond-type that has many gaps between the leaves. The gaps are large enough for me to throw a shuriken through, but not large enough for anyone else to see us hiding here.

The bush itself grows alongside a narrow path that winds its way through the grove. According to Corin, who had gone out scouting this morning, the trail stretches all the way from the ominous woods to the burnt husk of the bamboo forest.

Our bush is somewhere near the edge of the ominous woods, close to the cliff that overlooks the swamp. My thinking is that if we're going to ambush someone, it's best to make sure their back is to a cliff, so they have less options to escape.

Of course, if my aim is good then they'll never get the opportunity to escape.

But that's just the problem. I'm worried that if my aim isn't good enough then the Gamemakers will take it as a sign that I'm a weakling with no real chance of success. I know they must already be thinking it, but a failure from me would just solidify that thought process. And I won't let that happen. I can't.

"You know the plan?" I ask Corin.

She grunts in response. I can't see her face, but I get the impression that she's rolling her eyes. "Of course I do! And we've already been over it. Multiple times."

"¥ou can never be too careful."

"Sure. Whatever."

"So…the plan?" I prompt Corin, keeping my ears attuned to the forest around us. I'd hear someone coming long before they came into sight, so my blindess actually benefits me here.

Corin sighs. "I'll go into the ominous woods and draw the attention of the tribute there by throwing stones. I'll secretly lead them down this path, where you will be waiting to ambush and kill them." She pauses, then punches me in the shoulder. "Enough rehearsing. Let's just get this over with before the tribute moves."

I nod and then she's off, moving through the undergrowth at a crouch and making barely any noise as she slips away. She's good. Even I have a difficult time trying to hear her movements, and I know exactly where she's going! Corin can actually win the Games. I never put any thought into it before, but it's entirely possible. I don't know how to feel about that.

Her sneaking ability is how we managed to find another tribute without alerting them to our presence to begin with. Corin went out scouting early today and found the tribute hiding in a tree near the border of the mystic and ominous forests.

Having a tribute so close by plays well into the strategy I had cooked up. Of course, this is only possible because of Jayda and the shurikens she had given me. I understand why Corin thought that we should have killed her, but that really wasn't in our best interest. Jayda is not likely to try and kill us herself, nor is she likely to join with someone else. Befriending a loner is good strategy. If something where to happen, we could seek her assistance. Though, Corin does not seem like the kind of person who would ever seek assistance. Once again, thoughts of Corin unsettle me.

I've been trying my best not to think about what will happen when Corin and I reach the end. I know that while Corin is at heart a genuine person, I also know that she is will do whatever it takes to win these Games. If she thinks that her best route to victory is by killing me, then she will do so. I have no doubt that she could. Yesterday's sparring sessions proved that she would destory me in a fair fight.

Of course, that's still a long ways off. If I die today it won't matter what Corin does to me days from now. But I still cannot help but think about it. Things between us are fine for now, but I know that they won't always remain that way. Eventually something will give.

The rustling of the bushes is the first thing that alerts me to Corin's return. My head snaps towards the noise just as a faint thudding sound echoes to the opposite side. Right. Corin is throwing stones to lure in the tribute.

Soon my ally is sidling up alongside me. "I don't like this," She says in a whisper so low that I have to strain to hear her.

"Why?"

"It's Nylah."

"So?" I turn my attention back to the path where, if Corin did her job correctly, Nylah will soon be appearing. The shurikens feel cold between my fingers. I've never killed before. What is it like?

"She's one of the deadliest tributes in the arena," Corin continues to whisper in my ear. "I don't like the thought of engaging her. Why don't we pull back?"

I open my mouth to respond but find that I am speechless. Pull back? After everything we have done? All our preparations? For a moment I think that Corin has gone insane, but then it hits me. This was all my plan. I was the one who came up with the idea and the one who stands the most to gain. The one who will attack first. I don't want to believe it, but...does Corin think I'm incapable?

The butterflies in my stomach disappear as rage builds up inside me. Corin doesn't think I can do it. She thinks I'm too weak, too feeble. It's what I always worried about. I never wanted Corin to know of my blindness for this very reason. She doesn't think I can do it!

"We're not pulling back," I force the words out through gritted teeth. "I'm killing Nylah. Here and now."

Corin is silent. At first I think it's because she can sense my anger, but then I hear the footsteps and realize that Nylah has arrived. I waste no time. I've practiced this very throw countless times over my life. This time I will show all of Panem that I'm not weak, I'm not defenceless. I'm just as strong as anyone else!

I let the shuriken fly. I hear it slice through the air, whistling as it hones in on its target. I hear the displaced air as Nylah spins around to face the projectile. Then I hear her gasp of pain as it hits.

"Shoulder blow," Corin mutters. I hear her draw her sword. "She's looking this way."

Shoulder? No...no! I was supposed to kill her! I whip my second shuriken out and throw, realizing too late that my anger has, ironically enough, blinded me. I hear the thunk of steel against wood as my shuriken misses Nylah and hits a tree.

Corin is on her feet. "Cecil, move!"

I'm slammed to the side and hear steel grate against steel. I hit the ground and roll as Corin and Nylah duke it out, moving and thrashing through the enclosed woods. I get to my knees and crawl, burning with shame. I let my childish ego get in the way of logic. I should have been in control of my emotions. I rushed those throws, and for that I may yet pay with my life.

Corin and Nylah gasp and grunt as they continue to hack away at each other. I don't know whose winning. Sometimes my blindness helps me, other times it just leaves me in the dark. I struggle to my feet, holding onto my third and final shuriken.

But where do I aim? Corin and Nylah are a whirlwind of movement. One second they're to my left, the next they've moved five feet to the right. How am I supposed to hit Nylah while avoiding Corin?

"Cecil, watch out!"

Corin's warning is unnecessary. I hear Nylah approaching me and duck to the right, feeling the axe blaze a trail through the air past my skull. Leaning forward, I slam an elbow into Nylah's ribs and smile when she grunts in pain.

My smile is erased when the handle of her axe comes back around and smashes me in the jaw.

My sunglasses and several teeth go flying as I hit the ground. My head snaps against the grass so hard that for a moment I think I am dead. But then the sound of Corin and Nylah's renewed battle reaches my ears and I know that I still live.

Blood pours from my mouth as I rise. I've lost teeth before, when I was a child. It happened in the very same incident where I lost my sight. But unlike then I can't just sit back and take the pain. I stagger to my feet but fall almost instantly when my head swims and the world churns beneath my feet. I'm lying in the grass, praying for my strength to return, when I hear it.

Corin screams. It lasts only a brief moment, but the sound chills me to my core. I wait, desperately hoping that she'll make another sound, that she'll do something, anything that lets me know she is still alive.

She doesn't. There is only silence.

I lie on the ground, tasting the blood in my mouth and not moving. I hear footsteps as someone—Nylah?—retreats deeper into the grove. My body begins to tremble involuntarily as I slowly force myself to sit up. Corin isn't dead. She can't be dead. All my anger for her is forgotten as I stumble to my feet. "Corin?"

It's stupid to call out when Nylah might still come back, but I'm not thinking clearly. I bumble through the forest, trying to remember where I last heard Corin's movements. She was to the north, I think. But it's so hard to remember. The fight was too chaotic.

"Corin! Are you there?" There's no answer. Not even a moan or gasp of pain. I'm about to break down into a full-on panic when I realize that there has been no cannon. A cannon sounds every time a tribute dies. If one hasn't sounded...

Corin is alive. I hurtle forward but come to a screeching halt when my foot sends a loose rock flying over the edge of a sudden drop. I throw a hand back and catch onto a nearby tree, pulling myself away from the cliff as everything slides into place.

The cliff. The one that Corin and I had planned to trap Nylah against. What if the trap worked against us? What if Corin had fallen over the side? That would explain why her scream was cutoff and why she hasn't answered my calls. Nylah must have knocked her over the edge. That must be the reason.

But that does nothing to ease my worries. If Corin fell into the swamp she could be injured right now. She might be unconscious or bleeding out. What if another tribute finds her? Or a mutt?

"Corin!" I scream down into the swamp, not caring who hears. "Are you there? Corin!"

No response. I pull away from the edge and wipe the blood away from my chin as I try to think. I can't climb down. Even if I wasn't blind, even if I could see my handholds, I couldn't take that risk. If I want to get to Corin, if I want to reunite with the only girl in this arena who doesn't want me dead, I'm going to have to circumnavigate the arena and look for a way down.

Alone.

Mario Firth (District 4)
The battle is over.

Several hours have passed since the assault on the cornucopia. Despite being outnumbered and unprepared for the attack, we had still emerged victorious. Our attackers are dead, their corpses taken out of the arena by hovercrafts. Silve had killed three of them by himself. It's impressive, but not as much as people think. Lavender had zero weapon training prior to the Games, and Armado had fallen into our trap and severely handicapped himself. The only real threat Silve killed was Luigi. Still, I appreciate his strength. I haven't forgotten my own mistakes against Carey.

I get up and stretch my legs, grateful that my head no longer throbs with pain. For awhile I was worried that I might have some long-lasting repercussions, but things seem to have recovered. I glance at Silve, who sits on the ground next to our weapon pile. His face is blank and his eyes distant. He's been like that ever since the attack.

"Do we have a plan, or...?" Ash is sitting atop the cornucopia, his legs dangling over the side. He emerged from the ominous forest about half an hour after Silve killed the trio. He had a sardonic smile plastered on his face and a bounce in his step. When I asked him why he was so happy, he grinned. "Aphrodite is dead. The moron took an arrow to the throat."

I couldn't bring myself to feign being upset. Aphrodite was the least trustworthy of my allies, and I was certain she'd try something if she had survived much longer. Instead, I focused on our other ally. "What about Harley?" I asked him. "Where is she?"

He had shrugged. "Dunno. She chased after Takeko, shouting some garbage about avenging Aphrodite. I wasn't about to get myself killed over that bitch, so I bailed on her."

I can't say that I was happy over that, but Harley was also someone who I wasn't certain I could trust. I'd have preferred if she where to come back, but if not...well, her dying wouldn't be the biggest loss.

I pull myself out of my thoughts and turn to Ash. "We're staying here for the rest of the day, obviously. Leaving now would be taking unnecessary risks."

Ash spits. "'Kay then. Is that good with Silve?"

We both turn to look at our other ally, but he doesn't answer, as he is too preoccupied with staring out at the horizon. I reach over and poke his shoulder. Silve whips around to stare at me. "What is it?" I repeat myself and he nods. "Yes...yes, that is fine. I don't care if we stay here."

"Good." I turn my back on both allies and go look over my weapons for the fifth time since the attack. Despite our group victory, I lost my own individual battle. Carey should never have been able to best me in a fight. I'm a Career and she's just some random kid from District 12. Losing to her...it has left an awful feeling in my gut.

Though it's somewhat tempered by the knowledge that, despite her victory over me, she will still wind up dead. I stare at my knives and smile. Each and every one of them is poisoned. And Carey took one of the knives in the hand. I saw the gash it made across her palm. She may have bested me, but I have killed her. She won't last twenty-four hours with that venom in her veins. I smile. Even "little knives" can be devastatingly deadly when used properly.

When I look up my attention is immediately drawn to the ominous woods. Both Harley and Takeko are somewhere in there. No cannon has sounded since the attack on the cornucopia, so Harley is still alive. The bigger question is why she hasn't come back yet. An easy answer would be that she's too injured and is lying somewhere in the forest on the verge of death. But that's too simple. There's also the chance that she's perfectly fine, yet decided that she won't return because Ash abandoned her and with Aphrodite dead she has no one left to trust.

I sincerely hope that's not true, but better to plan for the worst. If Harley joins with another alliance she'll be able to tell them all about us and our weaknesses. "You should have killed her," I say idily.

Ash looks over at me with a frown. "Who?"

"Harley. If you were going to desert her like that, you should have made sure that she wouldn't be able to work against us."

Ash snorts loudly. "I was kinda expectin' Takeko to kill her."

"That's the problem with expectations; they don't always come true."

Ash looks to the sky, a rather wistful expression on his face. "My sis always said the same thing about dreams."

"Yeah, well, they're both true." I turn back to my knives, sharpening one with a whetstone. Nothing ever works out the way you want or expect, so always plan for the worst. That way you can never be surprised when something bad happens, only something good.

"Can I ask you guys something?" Silve looks away from the horizon, turning his serious blue eyes on us. I exchange a glance with Ash then nod. What could this be about? Silve spreads his hands. "Something I saw today made me wonder...what drives you guys forward? What is it that keeps you going? What gives your life meaning?"

There's a pause as Ash and I exchange another glance. Then I chuckle. "What a stupid question."

Silve frowns. "I do not see what is so stupid about it."

My chuckle stops and it is my turn to frown. I didn't expect Silve to be the sentimental type. I turn to Ash, expecting him to back me up, but to my shock he's nodding thoughtfully. "My little siblings," He says. "Daniel and Lisa. Everythin' I do, I do for them."

Silve nods slowly. "I see..."

"God," Ash shakes his head and, for the first time I've ever seen, a genuine smile crosses his face. "I would do anything to see their faces again..."

"I..." I don't know what to say. I don't have anything like that. Yes, I have sisters. Reese and Ness are waiting back in District 4 with my mother. And yes, I care about them. Deeply. But do they drive me? Are they what keeps me going? Somehow, I think that the answer is no.

I turn and stalk away from the cornucopia, ignoring Silve and Ash as they call after me. I keep going until I reach the trench on the edge of the walkway, the same one that Armado and Lavender fell into. There I stop and stare out into the sky.

What drives me? What am I competing in these Games for? The war has changed everything. Even winning won't bring things back to the way they used to be. Marius and Grove will still be dead. My mother will still be an empty shell of a human. Reese and Ness won't be safe, not from the Blackcloaks. And Caspian...

What place does a country at war have for an elderly cripple?

These Games are just a distraction. I'm only competing so that I don't have to face the ugly truth of the outside world. Everything is changing. Will I be there to witness it? Or will I be dead in the arena?

"I'll be alive," I whisper the words into the twilight sky. But first I have to kill fourteen other tributes, all of whom feel the same way that I do. The funny thing is, I don't feel guilty about that. Not at all. I turn my face to the sky, where the cameras watch. "I'll win these Games and live to see the future. For the future is mine, to mold as I see fit."

Harley Paramour (District 2)
My time in the arena has come to an end.

There's no denying this fact as I trudge through the forest, moving at a snails pace as I hold a hand to my stomach, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding there. This could have been avoided. If only I hadn't left the cornucopia, if only I hadn't chased after Takeko...

A jolt of pain runs down my side. I stagger, only keeping myself up by catching onto a nearby tree. I let out a rasping breath, trying to think clearly. Aphrodite is dead. I saw the arrow rip through her throat. I remember the rage I felt, mixed with despair and anguish, as she fell and died. Bad memories bubbled to my mind. Of Tate. Of him dying. I charged after Takeko without thinking, trying to get some form of vengeance for my friend.

But that was stupid. And now I'll pay the price.

I feel the tears as they slide down my face. Everything has gone so poorly. I should never have let Tate risk himself to try and save me. If I had only refused to come with him, then he would still be alive...but...no. No, that wouldn't have worked. My father would have still tried to kill him. He would have...

It's hard to think. Everything is unclear. The ground swims beneath my feet and a moment later I feel myself crashing to the ground. I'm lying on my back, staring at the dark canopy of the forest. It's a shame. I'd have liked to see the sky as I died.

I'm filled with sorrow as I realize that Blair will never know his parents. He will be raised by Father, who will make sure he grows into the same kind of hateful person that he is. He won't know that Tate and I tried to save him. That we sought a peaceful life for him. He won't know anything. Not even our existence.

Suddenly I'm curled up into a ball. Pain worse than anything else I've ever felt floods through me. I know now that this is how life ends. I understand the pain as it consumes me. It's not just from the knife Zamara drove into my gut, it is from the knowledge that I will never get to see my child grow up. I feel myself sink into the cold mud. I shiver and weep, crying out for Tate, for Blair, for anybody. I cannot help myself. I don't want to die alone.

Where is Ash? The thought cuts through the murk cluttering my mind. He was right behind me when Aphrodite died. Why did he abandon me? Bastard. They're all bastards. No one cares. No one ever did. Why do they get to live when Tate and I die? It's not fair!

My mind is wandering. I cannot focus. Everything is distorted. My life begins to fade, alongside Blair's future, Tate's sacrifice, and my dreams. Everything I ever wanted slips away.

Then I hear footsteps.

I lift my head as he emerges from the woods. I blink through my tears and smile, joy blossoming in my heart. Tate! He has come for me. I reach out a hand for him when the illusion shatters and I see what is truly there.

Surorian frowns at me, his oily black hair framing his unnatural violet eyes as they peer down at me. "You're not her..." I don't understand his words. I'm too weak to speak, so I only shake my head. He sighs heavily, then kneels down beside me. "You are already on deaths door, little lamb. But fear not, for I will hasten your journey..."

I feel rather than see the knife as he pulls it from his belt. He murmurs to himself as he brings the blade to my neck. "Thrust in thy sickle, and reap: for the time is come for thee to reap; for the harvest of the earth is ripe." The blade sinks into the soft flesh of my neck, and I smile as I realize that, despite it all, I'll at least be able to see Tate again.

Carey Brand (District 12)
My arm is burning.

It started as just a small tingling at the palm of my hand. I thought that it was just my body responding the the cut there, but it soon came apparent that it was something more. The tingling spread up to my wrist, then my elbow. My entire arm went numb. Then the burning started.

A raging, insatiable fire that engulfed my hand, spreading down the length of my arm, devouring my flesh. I beat at the flames with my hand and rolled in the dirt, desperately screaming as I tried to put it out. It was only when Colt grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up, demanding to know what I was doing, did I realize that the fire did not exist. The burning was real, but the flames were all fabricated.

That realization did nothing for the pain. It is still there, throbbing and searing as it burns itself into my flesh.

"Carey, are you okay?" Colt peers at me with big, wide eyes as I stop to rub my arm. Wait, no. Not Colt. Topher. He watches me with a worried expression as I drop to one knee.

"I'm fine," I lie. Colt is dead. He was burnt to nothing by those Blackcloaks. I lost him and everybody else in the fire. That dreadful, raging fire. I can feel it even now. Gnawing at me, clawing at me, slowly but surely making it's way through my veins...creeping towards my heart...

"You don't look fine. I think—"

"Shut up!" I roar and swing my arm at him. He easily sidesteps my blow, looking even more worried than before. Why is he still alive? Wasn't I going to kill him? All our other allies are dead. No one would miss him. But, no. Why would I ever harm Colt? He's my darling little brother. He—

Snap out of it! Somewhere deep inside me a voice screams. I'm losing it. I have enough of my wits left to realize that. There is no fire. Colt is still dead, robbed from me by the Capitol, Rebels, and Blackcloaks. They all must pay. But I need to live for that, and I...

I flex my hand or, at least, try to. My fingers are stiff and refuse to budge. What happened? The fire may be fake, but the pain is real. Something must have happened to me during the attack on the cornucopia. But what? I was barely harmed. I should be fine. I should be fine...

"Carey, I truly believe that we should stop and rest," Topher pulls out a small package from his jacket and waves it at me. "Zamara left some of her medicine with me and I think I should try and see if any of it will help with your...problem."

"No!" I lash out and strike him across the face. He falls backwards, sprawling on the grass, and stares at me with a bewildered expression as I rise.

Fire. Pain. Death. I remember it all. Darkness. Smoke. Flames. They came for us, not to save, but to kill. Why? What had we done? Why did Colt have to die? Why did Mother? I try to run, to flee from this nightmare, but my knees buckle and my legs gives out. I hit the ground and a sharp jolt of pain runs through my shoulder as the fire returns once more.

There's nothing but agony. The flames tear my arm to the bone, sizzling the flesh and scorching the muscle. My arm is a blackened husk. Except it's not. I feel the fire, sense the heat, but receive none of the damage. It's my own personal hell where I am condemned to burn for an eternity, never allowed to die.

Colt tries to help. He soaks a rag and presses it to my forehead. He applies an ointment to my hand and bandages it. He's so kind. Why did I ever think about killing him? Or was that someone else? It's hard to think through the blinding, pulsating pain. Hard to remember.

Time passes. Feels like forever. Someone else eventually shows up. She's taller and darker than mother, and her hair is the wrong color, but maybe that's just because of the fire. I know that ash can darken your features. Maybe that happened with mother.

Colt—Topher?—speaks to her. At first he's giddy and excited, gesturing to the bags we got at the market—cornucopia?—but then he's sad and somber when the girl speaks. She points at the sky and mimes cannon fire. I don't understand it, but watching the two of them makes me forget about the pain.

The girl seems to be injured. Her right arm hangs limp at her side and is caked with mud and debris. Colt goes over to help her instead and I feel sad, lonely. Why does everyone leave? I don't want to be alone, not anymore. The two eventually begin to converse in low, quiet tones that I hear but do not understand. "She's our ally..."

"She's Takeko's ally. She might have beeen in on the plan..."

"...we should try to heal her, at the very least!"

Words. Words, words, and more words. I do not understand a thing that is being said beyond the fact that they're...arguing? Maybe. I'm not even certain of that. "We will wait and see if she recovers. If she does, then we can ask her about it. If she doesn't..."

I feel myself begin to lose consciousness. A last, desperate part of me tries to fight through it, but with no luck. Colt and Mother begin to fade from my sight. I reach out a hand to grab them, but they are so far away...

I don't want to be alone...

Corin Greer (District 5)
I wake with a start.

My head throbs with a dull pain. Everything is dark. Somewhere in the distance I can hear the quiet droning of bugs and the occasional croak of a frog. I make the mistake of sitting up too fast and nearly faint as pain streaks across my temples. I groan and lie back down, my hand squelching softly in mud.

What happened? The last thing I remember was fighting Nylah and then...it slowly comes back to me. The cliff. Nylah's surprising tenacity. The terror I felt as I realized I was overmatched and overwhelmed. She was more skilled then I, more brutal. She was pressing me back when I felt my foot slip and, the next thing I knew, I am plunging down into the swamp.

The swamp. That explains the mud. And the smell. The air is rotten with the stench of death and foreboding. I never wanted to come here. This kind of area is anathema to my preferred location. Too much variables. Too many places for tributes and mutts to hide and catch me unawares. I need to leave. But first I need to make sure that I'm not about to die.

The moon is hidden behind a thick sheet of clouds and offers little light as I slowly sit myself up and check for injuries. My head must have taken quite a whack, judging by the pain and all the dried blood knotted in my hair. I'm lucky to be alive. Head injuries are no joke.

But that is far from my only wound. Scores of cuts mar my arms, though thankfully none are very deep. My foot also feels funny. Maybe it's sprained or maybe just strained from me landing on it awkwardly. Either way, it hurts. I begin stretching it out as I try to figure out my next move.

Cecil might still be alive. Or he could be dead. The sun is gone and the arena is dark, meaning I've been unconscious for several hours at least. Cecil may have died any time between now and then. And whose to say that Nylah didn't instantly kill him the moment after she dispatched me? I have no delusions about Cecil's fighting abilities. He may know marital arts, but against a competent opponent with the advantage of sight he stands no chance.

I'm surprised by the amount of guilt I feel when I think that. I owe Cecil nothing. I'm the only reason he has even survived as long as he has. But I still feel like I let him down. As his ally, I was meant to protect him. To make sure that the other tributes wouldn't harm him. But I failed.

No. No, I didn't fail. My only goal here is to survive. I can't let myself get bogged down thinking about things as insignificant as protecting people who have no chance of staying alive. If Cecil is dead, that would be unfortunate but not world-ending. He has to die eventually, after all. I should be more worried about myself.

Finally steady on my feet, I cast my gaze around for my supplies. My backpack is no longer strapped to my back, meaning it was probably jarred loose during the fall. I spend several minutes digging around in the mud, searching for any loose items. But all I find is a single flashlight which, surprisingly, still works when I click it on.

With the extra light I soon spot something silvery lying stuck in a divot between rocks. I walk over and carefully pry it free, a rush of excitement filling me as I realize that is is none other than my sword.

I wipe the blade against my jacket, cleaning the mud off. "I thought I lost you," I murmur, surprised by how glad I feel. But I suppose I shouldn't be. This sword is my only weapon after all. I have no real method of gaining another either. Had I lost this sword. ..best not to dwell on it.

What now? Searching for Cecil would be pointless when I don't even know if he is alive or not, but just sitting around in a dreary swamp is hardly the best course of action. Better to be moving. So, with a shrug and a sigh, I pick a random direction and start walking.

With each step, my boots sink a bit into the muddy wet ground, and each step brings a sucking sound as I pick my foot up again. With each step, my muddy footprint quickly fills with water and I know that traces of my passing will soon be gone, covered in a new layer of mud and slime. At least I don't have to worry about anyone tracking me.

I don't get very far before the first strains of the Anthem sounds throughout the arena and the Capitol seal appears in the sky. Midnight. So I was unconscious for many hours then. I settle back onto a log, content in the knowledge that I at least will soon learn whether Cecil is alive or not.

The very first face is the Capitol girl's, soon followed by the District 2 girl's. I remember that she was the Mayor's daughter. He must be furious. And, more importantly, both of those girls were apart of the Career Pack. My theory about them clashing with another alliance suddenly seems very likely.

The next three faces all but confirms this. Lavender, Armado, and Omega. All three of them were allied. With all those cannons earlier today, it seems very plausible that the three of them were attacked by the Careers. I'm surprised that they managed to take two Careers out with them. With Alpha having died yesterday, I had thought that the trio wouldn't be capable of such a feat.

Omega's face begins to fade and I find myself breathing easier. District 8 didn't have a face in the sky, and that means Cecil is still alive. I'm contemplating what this means for me when Luigi's face appears in the sky. Guess he must have died while I was unconscious.

And then the Anthem is over. The music fades and the Seal disappears from the sky. I'm left back in the darkness of the swamp which, within seconds of the Anthen ending, comes to life with the sound of insects. Fourteen tributes remain. I hadn't thought about this before, but I'm now suddenly aware that more then half the field is dead.

It's a sobering thought. Logically I knew that all those kids would have to die, but knowing and seeing are two different things. Yet I'm not as torn up about that as some would think. I don't want to see those kids dead, obviously. But at the same time I realize that there is really no other fate for them. If I am to stay alive and return home--which I will--then everyone else needs to die. And, if it comes down to it, I will end them myself. Each and every one of them. Not because I desire to inflict harm on the innocent. But because I desire to survive. And if I am to survive, I am to become a murderer.

But first things first. Cecil is still alive. And I'm still his ally. All logic and reason tells me that I shouldn't look for him, that doing so is pointless and dangerous, that it would only be putting myself at risk. But I've never been the sort of person to just sit on my hands and wait. When there's something that needs doing, I'm always there to do it. Cecil is out there and I will find him.

Of course, even if I do find him I know that he still has to die. But that is a problem for another day.

I start my journey through the swamp when my foot brushes against something. I bend down to pick it up and nearly choke on my surprise. Elijah's jacket. The one he gave me.

I hold it up to my face. I had forgotten about it. In all my desperation and haste after the fall, I had completely forgotten to check whether I still had his jacket with me. I squeeze my eyes shut. How could I? It's the only thing I have left of him. My last memento.

And I nearly lost it.

I take the jacket--which is more of a half-cape, thanks to the burns it received in the fire that claimed Elijah's life--and cast it around my shoulders. I tie it in place while I try to hold back the tears. Elijah lives on inside me. As long as I live, so does he. Which is why I can't lose. Why I won't lose.

So that is why I'll search for Cecil. I'll find him, then together we will kill the other tributes. The two of us will make it to the end. We'll face off. I'll tell him that that he has been a dependable and trustworthy ally.

Then I'll stab him in the throat. For Elijah.

Jayda Idylwyld (District 3)
The arena is still cloaked in darkness when I make my move. I grasp a nearby vine, tug on it twice to ensure its strength, then use it to slide down from my treetop perch to the ground below. I scan the area around me, hefting my axe up to my shoulder and slipping between two bright orange elm trees and further into the forest.

So far things have been proceeding as planned. No, the Games as a whole have not gone perfectly. Yes, some truly atrocious things have occured. But at this time, as of yesterday morning, my path has been smooth. Indeed, yesterday was by far my best day in the arena. I spent the entire day lurking in the woods, waiting high in the trees and formulating a plan against the Capitol.

Though it took me some time, I did indeed eventually settle on a plan. The plan is, of course, for me to do nothing.

Doing anything right now would be suicide. The Gamemakers will be keeping a strict watch for any rebellious behavior, and inciting their wrath would be a good way to get myself killed. That's not to say I've given up completely on my rebellion plan—I haven't—I am merely biding my time for when taking such an action would be more...beneficial for me.

The mystic grove is captivating as I silently make my way through it. Though dawn is still several hours away, the forest is illuminated with its own source of light. Several plants glow brightly with their own sort of bioluminescence, granting the forest a very ethereal feeling. It is utterly fascinating! I would love nothing more than to stop and study it but, unfortunately, I have no time. Thirteen tributes are still out there and, despite having a truce with two of them, they would all be too happy to see me dead.

So I must press on and play the game.

I am the last member of my alliance. Luigi's face was up in the sky last night, along with the rest of the deceased. I know not how he died, but I feel a pang of loss all the same. He was a good person, perhaps the only good person left in the arena, but now he is dead. He will be missed.

But I cannot focus on the dead, not when there's still a game to be played. When I play a game, I play to win. And the name of this particular game is killing. I am well aware that I will not be killing anyone in martial combat. Every other tribute still living is either more skilled then I or in an alliance. No, I will not beat the other tributes by out fighting them. Instead, I will out think them.

The forest around me opens up into a tiny clearing. Inside, at the exact center, rests a little pond. One of the groves many water sources, the water inside is purple but still very much drinkable.

But not for long.

I kneel at the ponds edge, reaching into my pack and pulling out a thin vial of poison. This vile was one of several that I received from sponsors yesterday. It's arrival was a surprise, as it meant that the Gamemakers weren't blocking sponsorships to me. That is good. I was worried that some of the Idylwyld's on the Gamemaking Committee might try and sway the Games against me. It is a relief to see that my fears were unfounded.

As I uncork the vile, I ponder on something else. Everyone knows that mentors are responsible for assisting with your sponsorship. It's a known fact. In my case, my mentors are Caspian and Axiom. Was Caspian involved in sending the poison? The very idea of that foul cockroach being responsible for the gift sends a shiver down my spine. I'd rather accept the help of my Idylwyld cousins before indebting myself to him.

Unfortunately, I am in no position to spurn a gift, no matter its source.

I pour half the viles contents into the pond, watching as the clear liquid is absorbed into the purple water. Whoever next drinks from this pond will find themselves a nasty surprise.

I am in the process of rising to my feet when something zips out from the shadow of an overgrown, glowing daffodil. At first I think it's an insect, or a very small bird, but when it lands on the teal grass before me, I realize it is neither.

It is a person.

"A mutt," I mutter under my breath, watching the thing with caution. If I have learned anything from Lilah, it is to not trust appearances. I reach a hand out to touch it, but it takes to the air, giggling as it flies around me.

It is a very peculiar sight. The Pixie is in the form of a young woman, about a handspan tall, with an angular face and long flowing hair that whips about as it flies. It eventually lands on my shoulder and peers into the pond, cocking its head to the side. Then, inexplicably, it claps its hands together and takes off into the air, zooming straight into the forest.

I am compelled to follow it. Though it may be foolishness, I sincerely believe it is trying to show me something. I track the Pixie through the trees, always able to spot it by the faint blue glow it gives off. As I follow, I realize that I may not be thinking properly. The Pixie may be messing with my cognitive abilities. It may even be leading ne into a trap.

But I cannot bring myself to stop. I follow the Pixie until it comes to a halt, hovering over a purplish pond, slightly larger than the one we just left. For a moment I stand confused. Then I realize what just happened.

The Pixie saw me poison the pond. It understood my actions. It knew I would search for others and it...decided to bring me right to them.

I know not why this Pixie would decide to help me or what it hopes to achieve, but I couldn't care less. The fact of the matter is that the Pixie is helping. I step up the pond and hastily pour some of my poison into it, hoping that it will be enough to fully contaminate the source. Then I turn to face the Pixie, smiling and nodding. "Can you show me more?"

It nods happily, then zips away into the air. I follow eagerly. With this newfound help my task goes by much smoother and quicker. I had resigned myself to spend hours combing the grove for all the ponds but, with the Pixie leading the way, it takes me only half an hour to poison over a dozen different ponds.

Soon it is leading me towards yet another pond. This one is the largest yet, perhaps twice the size of the biggest before. I frisk in my pocket for my final vile and stare at it doubtfully. Only half its contents remain. Will it be enough?

The Pixie flies in the air above, moving in a circular pattern and giggling to itself as I approach the pond. Before doing anything to its contents, I take a long drink from it. You never know when you'll find another water source, after all. When I am finished, I take the vile and dump the entire thing into the water.

I step back, biting my lower lip. I have just removed what might just be the arenas biggest water source. What impact will this have on the Games? I know that water is one of the most precious resources; it is always in demand. With these ponds removed from play, what dependable source is left?

There is the cornucopia, of course. But who controls that horn of plenty? The logical answer would be the Careers, but with only three of them left I am unsure whether they still have the manpower to defend it. Surely every other tribute will seek those precious supplies for themselves.

Something taps my shoulder.

I spin around in shock, fear leaping into my heart, when I realize that it is only the Pixie coming to land. I take a breath, trying to slow my heart rate. For a second I thought I was a goner.

The Pixie, however, seems agitated. She pulls on my collar with her tiny hands, rapidly gesturing towards the northern edge of the pond and the bright blue trees that grow there. "What is it?" I ask the little woman, trying to understand the behavior. "Is something amiss?"

The Pixie nods, pointing again at the trees. When I don't react, she turns to point at me, then the trees again. I frown. "A...person?" Then it clicks. A person. A tribute. Another tribute is coming this way!

I spin about on the spot, searching for a hiding spot. I can hear the footsteps now. Soft and slow. Whoever is approaching is taking great care not to be heard. Unfortunately, I am in a similar predicament. My heart screams at me to run, to flee from this encroaching enemy. My my brain tells me otherwise. Running would make noise. Noise would alert the tribute to my position. What to do?

My hesitancy costs me. Just as I've made the decision to run, a tribute steps out between the trees. We're suddenly face to face and my hands go flying up, ready to swing my axe, when I recognize the face.

"Cecil!"

The boy stops and blinks, his wide eyes vacant and glossy. "Who...Jayda?" His feet adopt a combat stance as his hands, quietly but swiftly, pull something silvery out from his pocket. Shurikens. The very same weapons I traded him just a few days ago.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, not lowering my weapon. The fact that the two of us made a truce means nothing. I can't expect him to keep his word, not in this game. Not when it's life or death.

Cecil doesn't respond right away. He casts his head side to side, breathing deeply as he does. I am unsettled. What is he doing? And why are his eyes so...unfocused? As he hesitates to answer, I shift my attention to the dark woods around us. "And where is Corin? I know she yet lives. Don't try to lie." Truthfully, she is what frightens me most. Alone Cecil is no real threat. But with that girl...

"I don't know," Cecil's voice is high-pitched and strained. "I lost her yesterday. I...I'm alone."

"Is that so?" I don't know if I believe him. It's possible that he's just distracting me so that Corin can sneak up and kill me from behind. It's a good theory. The only problem with it is that it doesn't make sense. Why would they try and kill me now after letting me go when I was at their mercy? It wouldn't make sense. Which means Cecil must be telling the truth.

I slowly lower my axe--not completely, but just enough to make him comfortable. "What happened?" I ask Cecil.

He launches into a story about how Corin and he tried to lay an ambush for another tribute only for the tables to be turned on them and for Nylah to cast Corin off a cliff and into the swamp. It's a believable tale, but it leaves me with a few questions. "If you know where Corin fell," I begin, the gears in my head churning as I try to think how this information could benefit me, "then why haven't you just gone straight to the swamp?"

Cecil pales. He opens his mouth to speak but closes it, scratching at his ear with a twitchy hand. I frown, eyes narrowing. Something is amiss. What am I missing? Finally, Cecil responds. "I don't know how to get to the swamp," He mutters, barely loud enough for me to hear.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know how to get to the swamp!" He glares at me, his wide eyes suddenly taking on a different light. Come to think of it, I don't believe I've ever seen his eyes before. They were always hidden behind his sunglasses before. No wonder. They're so wide and staring and--

I blink as the realization hits me like a bucket of freezing water. Cecil seems to notice, for he looks up, watching me with the wary grace of a distressed animal. "What...What is wrong?"

"You're blind," I say softly. "You've been blind all along."

Cecil lets out a deep breath. His hands form fists at his side and he lowers his head, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Yeah, I am."

I don't know how I missed it. The signs were so obvious! But then, is it really a surprise I overlooked this? I had many other things to focus on during training, the only time I really got a good look at Cecil. With so much stress on my mind I really cannot boame myself for failing to notice. It is not as if Cecil was my ally or anything.

"I'm not useless though," Cecil raises his head, glaring fiercely at me. "I can--no, I will find Corin. My blindess doesn't make me feeble. It has its own advantages!"

I wonder if he's trying to convince me or himself. Regardless, I don't have the time or resources to assist him. "I believe you," I tell him, backing away from the pond and towards the trees. "I'm certain that the two of you will reunite soon." Cecil is dead. A blind tribute will not last on their own. How did he even survive this long? Corin must have been carrying him. All logic dictates that he should have died long ago, perhaps in the bloodbath. Yet here he is, alive and well on the morning of the fifth day. Half the field is dead, but the blind boy is not.

Peculiar.

"Are you going?" Cecil asks, having no trouble tracking me despite his lack of sight.

I nod before remembering that he cannot see. Feeling foolish, I speak. "Yes, I have my own errands to attend. I wish you luck on your future endeavors, however."

Cecil's face twitches with emotion before going blank. Is he upset? Did he truly expect me to stick with him and help find Corin? That would be ridiculous. We may have a truce, yes, but I am not about to risk myself to help another alliance. That would not be in my best interests in any capacity.

I turn and walk into the woods. I cannot become attached. I have bigger things to accomplish. Idywyld's are not like ordinary people. Yet...I hesitate on the threshold of the forest, internally debating with myself. I finally come to a compromise. "Cecil?" I call over my shoulder.

"Yes...?" He sounds uncertain.

"Do not drink any water in the grove. Not the streams, not the ponds. I have it on good authority that someone may have tampered with the water. It is in your best interest not to consume it. Understand?"

"I...yes, I understand."

Nodding to myself, I slip away into the woods, the seed of another plan already sprouting inside my mind.

Emma Brynne (District 9)
I hate this stupid forest. I hate this arena. I hate these Games. I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!

I pick my way through the thick undergrowth of the ominous forest, trembling with a mixture of despair and pain. My arm is covered in dark red, almost purplish, welts. They itch. And sting. Oh, how they sting.

Yesterday I tried to act cute and make a funeral prye of sorts for my fallen friends, for Elia and Nicholas, for Bastien. I thought that I could at least do this one small thing to honor their memory. I had failed them in life, but maybe I could do something for them in death.

I couldn't. I failed them. Again.

While gathering material for the send off, I brushed my arm against an oddly shaped plant. I recognized it almost instantly. A Deathbloom plant. Despite its name the plant is not lethal, it doesn't kill you or even remotely come close. No, instead it's like Poison ivy, just ten times worse.

My arm was soon covered with the rash. The pain was almost unbearable at first, hurting me so much that I simply gave up on my plan of honoring my friends and curled into a ball on the forest floor, silently pleading for my misery to just end. Hours went by with no respite. I was thinking that I must be wrong, that the Deathbloom actually was fatal, when the pain gradually began to subside.

It hasn't gone away completely, not even now, almost a full day after I touched the plant. My arm still itches and hurts. But it's a small, manageable pain. Compared to the pain of yesterday, this is nothing. Compared to the pain of seeing everyone I care for die, this is pleasurable.

Their faces flash before my eyes and I stumble, falling to the ground. There I remain, lying on the floor of a tangled forest, unable to protect anyone. What is the point of living?

Cadence had died right in front of me.

A nameless girl killed Elia.

A Career killed Bastien.

I can hear gunfire. The screams of people as they're ripped apart by bullets. I hate thinking of that day. I almost wish I had never gone looking for Cadence. Then I wouldn't have had to watch. Wouldn't have kneeled there, powerless, as my sister was slaughtered.

And now it's happening again. Elia, Nicholas, Bastien. They've all been slaughtered on my watch. They've all died despite my best efforts to protect them. Why bother fighting? Everyone is already dead

No.

I roll over and force myself to my feet, wavering on weak legs. Everyone is not dead. Not yet. Topher still lives. He's out there somewhere, afraid and alone. I've always thought him naive and endlessly optimistic, thought that he would be the first of us to die. But he hasn't. He fights on while I lie in the dirt, wallowing in my own pity.

I grit my teeth and shake my head. I am a fool. How can I let their deaths be in vain? I need to live for them. I need to fight for them.

I push myself onwards, forging a path where there is none. I feel at the pocket where I've stored my throwing knives, making sure that they are still there. I was surprised when I saw the silver parachute descending through a small gap in the trees. I hadn't expected, hadn't even dared hope, that someone out there would care for me enough to send anything. But someone does and they did. I have the knives and a canister of water to prove it.

Soon I will show them that their money was not wasted.

Something steps out from the shadows ahead. I yelp, losing my balance on landing straight on my backside. My sickle skitters out of my hands, bouncing across the forest floor towards the stranger. The tribute leans down and picks it up. "Keep your weapons on you at all times," She says, her voice soft but tinged with steel. "They're the only thing that will always have your back."

The girl from District 10, Takeko Zhou, steps forward, bouncing my sickle between her hands. She is a thin, serious faced girl with brown eyes that pierce like knives. I remember how, back in training, one glance from her sent me scurrying away from the sword station.

Panic claws at my throat. She'll kill me! I'm dead! Dead! Frantically I claw for the knives in my jacket, fumbling around with clumsy fingers before I manage to pull one out. I point this at Takeko, my arms trembling. "Don't you dare! I will kill you! Don't think I'm bluffing! I killed Avan and Pompeii!"

Takeko raises an arched eyebrow. "Did you now? I was wondering who offed them. You have my thanks."

My throat is dry. I don't know what to say. Why is she thanking me? "Wh-what do you want?"

The girl sets my sickle back on the ground, then kicks it towards me with her foot. "I'm with Topher. Carey and I joined up with a new alliance of his."

I cautiously reach a hand out and retrieve my sickle. Takeko doesn't move. What's her angle? And what is this about Topher? A new alliance? "I don't know what you're talking about," I say lamely.

Takeko's face is as expressive as a statues as she answers. "Topher was aligned with Zamara, Luigi, Armado, and Lavender. Carey and I joined the four of them so that we could attack the Careers and try to take the cornucopia."

"What? I...those names...they're all..." I can't bring myself to say the words.

"Dead?" Takeko raises another eyebrow. "Yes, we had some casualties. It was unfortunate. However, Topher and Zamara survived. Topher expressed an interest in getting you to join us, so I was sent out to try and find you."

It is all so hard to comprehend. Topher joined another alliance? And most of them died? I feel that aching sense of grief wash over me again. More dead kids. More futures robbed. How could Takeko be so calm? Casualties. Unfortunate. Those words suggest that this was all just some game, that real, breathing humans haven't just been slaughtered for no reason.

How can she be so callous?

"Well?" Takeko is staring at me. Apparently she has been speaking this entire time. I hold a hand to my head, trying to think, when my arm throbs with pain. I curse and pull it close to me, hoping Takeko didn't see. She did.

"Is that rash from a Deathbloom plant?" She asks, eyes narrowed.

"I...yes." What else to say? "I...stumbled into a patch."

"Careless."

I wait for further comment, but none comes. Eventually I make myself stand. Takeko doesn't try to stop me. I watch her with a nervous gaze. She holds no weapon, though she has a sword at her waist. Could I, perhaps, rush her and kill her in the surprise? No. I see the steady, confident manner in which she holds herself. She may look carefree and defenceless, but I bet that she could draw that sword in a second.

I don't want to find out.

"What were you saying?" I ask, letting the moment pass, "about Topher and his alliance?"

"I was asking whether you wanted to join," Takeko replies. I still don't like the look in her eyes. Too cold. Too empty. "I am about to rejoin them, and I don't have time to hang around here if you have no desire to come with."

"You....You know where they are?"

"Of course."

I can't deny the fact that I want to see Topher again. He is the only person left in this arena who I care about. I can't let him die. I can't fail them all. But to trust Takeko? The girl is deadly and untrustworthy. One only needs to glance at her to figure that out. She's like Avan. Like Pompeii. A wild, untamed beast who will kill all my friends.

I should kill her. I need to kill her!

I take a step forward and notice Takeko's hand briefly flutter towards her sword. She doesn't trust me. Not surprising. But that means I can't kill her. Not if she's on alert. I need her to let her guard down, wait for a moment when she's distracted, then strike. It needs to be clean and quick so that she doesn't get a chance to fight back.

I feel dead inside thinking like this, but it's necessary. If I want to protect, I must be willing to kill in cold-blood. There is no other way. Not anymore.

"I'm with you," I tell Takeko, putting on my best smile. "It'll be so wonderful to see Topher again!"

"That's great!" Takeko smiles back, but only with her mouth. Her eyes remain cold. Cold, hard, and ready to kill. This girl will murder me and my friends the first chance I give her.

I won't give her that chance.

"Lead the way," I tell her happily, wondering what my parents think of all this, "lead the way, Takeko. I'm sure Topher is just dying to see us."

Zamara Nostalic (District 0)
There is no sunrise in the arena. You never even see the sun. At dawn the first hint of light begins to leak out from behind the slate of steel gray clouds that hang in the sky, slowly bathing us in its faint, pale glow. Topher watches this with wide eyes and a bright smile.

"It's beautiful!" He says, staring into the sky. "All the books said that the sunrise was gorgeous, but this is the first time I've ever witnessed this glory for myself. And I must tell you...it is simply astounding!"

I don't bother telling him that this looks nothing like a real sunrise. Why kill his excitement like that? Besides, I am too tired and confused to bother. Things have been moving too fast. My plans have come unraveled. I don't know who I can trust, if anybody.

Topher and I rest on the lip of a rock shelf, a smooth, circular configuration that gives us enough height to keep a watch out on the arena but also enough cover from prying eyes. Carey lies asleep behind us, in the little recess created from the rocks. She hasn't woken up since I administered the antidote to her.

A huge wave of parachutes arrived not more than an hour ago. I have no idea what spurred them on, but I found that I couldn't bring myself to care why. All that mattered is that they came.

Topher and I went through them, sorting the items while trying to figure out what was for who. There was many painkillers, several canteens of water, some flares, a quiver full of twelve arrows, a vile of poison and--most surprising--a vile of antidote.

It was for Carey, no doubt. Though I don't recognize the type of poison used, I knew from the moment I saw her that she had been poisoned. I had expected her to die sometime this afternoon, but the arrival of the antidote changed that. She'll live. But not without repercussions.

The entire length of her right arm, from fingertips to shoulder, is blackened. The skin seems to have decayed, destroyed by the poison. Some type of rough, grating substance has grown over the arm, much like scales of some sort. I have no idea why this is. I can only assume it's a by-product of the poison.

But I shouldn't be focusing on Carey's problems, not when I have my own. My own arm is still torn up from the blow Takeko's treacherous blade left. Though it doesn't pain me now that I have taken some painkillers, I cannot help but realize this will effect my Games outlook. For one thing, drawing a bow will be difficult with such a wound. Which would be a problem if I actually had a bow, that is. Though my sponsors sent me arrows, they neglected to send me a replacement bow. It seems I'll have to make do with what I have.

But my physical ailments are not even the entirety of my problems. What do I do now? This whole time I've been trying to protect as many people as possible, but I've run straight into a brick wall. My plan yesterday got so many people killed. Takeko may have been the one to betray us, but I set the plan. I was the one who sent Armado, Luigi, and Lavender to their deaths. Me.

I shut my eyes and try to tell myself that I couldn't have forseen such an outcome. I'm not at fault. Not really. Unfortunately, I do not believe myself.

Carey moans. I snap my head around to look at her, but she is still asleep. I watch her shift about for a few moments then turn back to staring out at the horizon. At least this is something I don't need to worry about anymore.

Carey wasn't in on the betrayal. She couldn't have been. Otherwise she would have killed Topher and stolen all the supplies for herself. So if she didn't betray us, then she's innocent. And if she's innocent, I have to save her.

"Hyaah!"

I perk up as I see Topher standing atop the rock shelf, swinging his machete. Every now and then he'll stop to collect his breath, but then he goes right back to swinging. "What are you doing?" I ask him.

He pauses mid-swing. "I am merely practicing my swinging arm."

"Oh. I--what?" I blink, trying to understand what he just said. "Your...swinging arm?"

He nods. "Oh, yes. One must always practice if you wish to achieve perfection." He starts up again, swinging at the empty air. "Our enemies are strong and mighty. I fear I do not have what is required to defeat them at this moment. But, perhaps, with enough training I just might be the best darn swinger there ever was!" He punctuates this with one last swing. He swings so hard that he loses his balance and slips, hitting the rocky ground hard as his machete flies across the shelf and narrowly avoids skewering my face.

I can understand why he is so worked up. The other tributes are all much more talented then he is. More athletic. More skilled. And I haven't forgotten that Topher received a 1 in training, one of only a handful of tributes in history to earn the lowest possible score. He must feel terribly useless.

I walk over and pick up his machete, turning and handing it back to him. "You're doing a good job," I tell him with a smile. "Keep it up and you'll soon be the strongest guy out here!"

The sun may never rise in the arena, but the smile Topher gives me is bright enough to lighten the entire arena. "Thank you," He says softly. "I just...people have been protecting me my entire life. For just once I'd like it to be the other way. Just once I'd like to do the protecting..."

I smile and am in the midst of giving him some pointers on how to best hold his feet when another voice joins the conversation. "Where am I?"

Carey is awake. She sits up slowly, her dark eyes taking in her surroundings. They eventually settle on me. I stare back, surprised at how uneasy those eyes of hers make me feel. They feel old and weary, a pair of eyes that has seen more of the world then they we wished.

What has this girl been through?

"You're awake!" Topher cackles in glee, flipping his machete into the air before doing a bizarre little dance. "Praise the sun!"

Carey ignores him, keeping her eyes glued to me. "Everyone else is dead?"

I nod, wondering if she'll say something that implicates her in the plot. Just because I think she wasn't involved doesn't mean it's true. "Takeko betrayed us. It was a setup from the very beginning."

Carey nods, her face never even changing expression. "I see. I thought she was acting out of character. Now I know why."

For a moment she falls silent, then she notices her blackened arm. She stares at it for several long moments, as if transfixed by the sight. When she tears her gaze away, I see fear in her eyes. "The fire was real," She whispers. "The burning...the flames..."

I realize that I have to explain. Topher is still prattling on about the glory of the sun or something, so I send him off to stand guard on the rim while I catch Carey up to speed. She is completely silent for the half-hour it takes me to explain. Partway through Topher drifted back over and gave his input, which made everything sound much cooler and less dangerous than it was. I sent him off again, and he walked away witb a smile before I resumed.

When I finish, Carey stares at me with a blank look. "Why did you heal me"

I don't understand the question. "Why wouldn't I? We're allies, aren't we?"

"Yes, but Takeko betrayed you. How did you know you could trust me?" She doesn't sound curious or mad or anything. Her voice is flat, emotionless.

"I just knew," I tell her, "and besides, I'd have helped you even if I didn't. I can't just sit back and watch someone die." Not when I have the power to save them. Not when I've let so many innocents die already.

"You can't protect everyone," Carey says. "The Games only have one winner. You know that."

I stiffen. "I know. Now, get some rest. Topher and I have set up some traps while you were unconscious, so we'll be staying here awhile." I get up and walk away, hoping she hasn't noticed how uncomfortable she made me.

Everyone has to die. It's a fact I've known but been ignoring. These Games won't end until everyone but one person is dead. I can only protect for so long. Eventually there will come a time when I'm forced to make a decision: kill an innocent, or die.

I think I know what choice I'd make.

And it disturbs me.

Mario Firth (District 4)
How long have I been in this arena? It feels like months, though I know it hasn't been more than a few days. It wasn't that long ago when I was worried that Pompeii, Aphrodite, and Harley would make a pact and wipe us out.

Now they're all dead.

The cornucopia looks the same as it ever has. Silve is going through the pile of supplies, trying to decide what to keep on him. He's barely said a word since the battle yesterday. What happened to him? He used to seem so invincible but now...something is deeply troubling him.

Ash, on the other hand, is as jovial as I've ever seen him. He's lying on a hammock he set up between two crates, whistling to himself as he stares up into the sky. I knew he hated Aphrodite, but I guess I didn't know the full extent of that hatred.

Nevertheless, despite their differences there is something that Silve and Ash have in common; neither of them seem concerned about our status in the Games. I plan to rectify that.

"Guys!" I shout, causing Ash to fall out of his hammock with a curse and Silve to look up sharply. Good. I have their attention. I walk into the center of the platform, purposely making a show. "We need a plan. And, more importantly, we need to seek out the remaining threats and eliminate them."

There are fourteen tributes left, but only three Careers. It is obvious that we need to stick together for the time being. We are the biggest and most obvious threats to all the others and, if we were to separate, would become the target of each and every one of them. That is why we need to remain a cohesive unit.

"Which threats are we talking 'bout?" Ash asks, sitting up in his hammock.

"Takeko, Surorian, and Nylah," Silve answers immediately. I shoot him a look. Those were the exact three tributes I was most worried about. Odd.

"I understand Takeko," Ash begins, "she killed two of our allies, yeah? And Nylah got a high score, but Surorian? What did that fella do to make himself a threat?"

"He killed Mercury," I say flatly. I remember that incident clearly. Surorian was hunting me, would have killed me, if not for Mercury's intervention. He sacrificed his own life so that I could live. I intend to repay him by killing Surorian.

Ash nods his head, acceding my point. "True. But is he more dangerous than Zamara? I don't reckon he is. Zamara got a eight in training and she gots a bow. Could kill us from a mile away, she could."

Silve, who has been listening to us silently, suddenly speaks. "Surorian is the best swordsman in the arena."

"Even better than you?" I ask.

Silve doesn't respond.

"Damn. He's that good?" Ash gives a low whistle. "Well, well. Looks to me that we've gots us a whole ton of threats and not many options of killing them."

He hit the nail on the head right there. Out of the eleven remaining tributes, four of them are complete threats who pose a real challenge to our group. And that's not even counting the under-the-radar tributes, like Lilah and Corin. We need to get our act together if we want to win--and do it soon.

"You mentioned something 'bout a plan?" Ash climbs out of his hammock, wincing slightly as he puts weight on his injured thigh.

"I did," I nod, trying to think what the best use of our time would be, "and I've decided that the best thing to do would be to ambush the loners and use our superior numbers to vanquish them."

"Easier said than done."

"I know, but what choice do we have? We could wait for them to kill each other, but we have no guarantee that will actually happen. Plus, they could decide to strike at the cornucopia, like Takeko and her alliance did yesterday." That would be a worst-case scenario. I do not think we could fend off another coordinated attack like that.

"Makes sense," Silve says quietly, staring at his feet. "We will never achieve victory as long as those loners remain active. We either snuff them out or we lose."

"So we're all agreed?" I ask, looking my allies in the face searching for any sign of hesitancy. "We three will stick together until the other threats are annihilated?"

Ash shrugs. "Not like we have much of a choice, do we?"

"No. We don't."

Takeko Zhou (District 10)
Emma must think me a fool. Though she acts along, pretending to trust me wholeheartedly, it is plainly obvious that she does not trust me an inch. She never takes her eyes off me, never tries to strike up a random conversation. She hasn't even bothered to ask me what supplies I have, something that gave her away almost instantly. Who wouldn't ask sucb a question unless they distrusted the person in question?

Not that it matters. Emma is merely a means to an end. I never intended to gain her trust. I don't need her trust.

"We are getting close," I tell the girl as we make our way through the hot springs. I detest this biome. Too wide open. Anyone could see us coming from a mile away. "Not much longer now."

"Oh...that's nice," The girl smiles sweetly. Too sweetly. She's a good actor, but I've been trained to sniff out liars and pretenders my entire life. She walks just slightly ahead of me, her sickle in hand. She never lets it go for a moment. Another sign of her insincerity.

I wonder what she is planning. She surely can't think herself skilled enough to fight me. Or does she? She did claim to have killed Avan and Pompeii. I happen to believe that claim, if only because Topher had said something similar yesterday. Of course, I am not like those two. Pompeii was a fool and Avan a brute. Neither had the finesse or skill that I have.

Still...one does not accidentally kill two threats. I must take her seriously. Which is why I keep my katana unsheathed. If she is going to walk around with her weapons bare, then so will I.

I don't actually know where I'm going. The only reason I chose the hot springs as a destination is because that is where yesterdays plan had Topher and Carey fall back to. They may very well have moved on, but what does it matter? They cannot hide forever. I will find them eventually.

I always do.

"What's that?" Emma suddenly pulls to a halt. She stares out at a distant rock formation, one that seems to be set higher up then all the rest in the immediate area. I scan the formation for movement and, sure enough, spot a figure walking along the edge. Judging by his height and lanky build, I'd presume the figure is none other than Topher.

A smilee breaks out across my face. "That, dear Emma, is your alliance." And my victims.

We make all haste in approaching. Emma seems to have forgotten her distrust of me, for she moves swiftly between the rocks, never glancing back once. I could have killed her several times over if I wanted. But I don't. My plans are never that simple.

The alliance is lax with their defences. No one cries out as we approach. No one jumps out to surprise us. Topher has even disappeared from the ridge. What are they doing? If we were the Careers, they'd all be dead by now.

I suppose it is good to know that I am dealing with fools.

They don't see us until we're basically on them. Emma is stepping out from behind a rock pile when someone gives out an alarmed shout and I hear a flurry of movement. Emma breaks out into a grin and is about to run to meet them when I act.

I step behind Emma and slide my blade across her neck. She freezes, a small gasp escaping her lips. I smile and whisper into her ear. "Drop your weapons if you want to keep your throat intact." She complies immediately. Her sickle bounces onto the stones, followed by her knife. I kick these away then nudge Emma forward, making sure to keep her in front of me. "Now, let us go greet your friends..."

Zamara Nostalic (District 0)
In the hours following Carey's awakening, I've been hard at work. The last thing I want is for another tribute to stumble upon us while we have no protection, so I've been seeing to our defences. Topher had a canister of gasoline that I borrowed, pouring its contents in a wide cricle around our base. While the smell is unfortunately noticeable, you can barely see the trail itself. It blends in nicely with the rocky outcropping around us.

I wasn't content with that, however, so I set up a few snares with my wire. I even rigged one that would send several medium sized rocks barreling down from an unnaturally large boulder. Though that last one is rather far from our base, so I'm not too certain how effective it will be.

By the time I finish it is midday and the temperature in the arena has risen. While it's far from being hot, it's warm enough that I'm sweating from all the work. I walk back up the slope to my allies. Topher is practicing his "swinging arm" again, while Carey is watching me with an expression that I can only call hostile.

"Is something the matter?" I ask, pulling out my canteen and taking a long drink.

"The gasoline," She answers, not taking her eyes off the trail behind me. "What are you planning to do with it?" There's an edge to her words. An emotion that I can't place.

I put the stopper back on the canteen and drop it in my bag. "Hopefully nothing. It's only a last resort in case we're attacked."

Carey doesn't respond but she is clearly troubled. I frown. She's acting so cagey. Almost as if she's...afraid. Suddenly it clicks. Fire! Carey is afraid of fire! I remember how she thrashed and moaned while unconscious, mumbling things about "flames" and "the inferno". None of that made sense at the time, but now I've begun to understand.

"There's nothing to fear, you know," I say casually, "the fire won't hurt you. The stones will keep it in check."

Carey twitches, as if the mere mention of fire has set her off. Then she explodes. "You know nothing!" She hisses, eyes suddenly wide and full of desperation. She reaches out for me with outstretched hands and I backpedal in surprise. "You weren't there! You didn't see it devour our homes. Our belongings. Our loved ones. It destroyed everything. Everything!"

Carey is screaming now. She looks like a wild animal, with wide eyes, clenched hands, and spittle flying from her mouth. I try to think of something that will calm her down, but before I can she's thrusting her blackened arm in my face. "Look at it! This is what it did! What they did! You think they're here to save you? Think again! They're here to destroy! To reap! They want us all dead. Dead!"

As she grabs the front of my jacket and begins to shake me, I do the only thing I can think of. I slap her in the face.

"Calm down!"

Carey reels backwards, going completely silent. For a moment I wonder if I made a mistake, if I just incited her to assault me. But then she slumps to her knees, all the fight dissipating, just like that. "I have nothing," She says, voice suddenly lifeless. "They took everything I had. I have nothing."

I have no response to that. I stand around feeling awkward, exchanging a look with Topher, who has wandered up beside me. I can't reassure Carey. What could I say? She's trapped in an arena where all of us will die so that one can live. What is there to say to make someone feel better?

But Carey doesn't expect me to say anything. She stands up and brusquely turns her back on us. For some reason, I feel like I can trust her more now then I could before. She's broken. A shell of herself. Someone who doesn't have anything left to her.

She's exactly the kind of person I'm meant to protect.

"Carey," I call her name and she spins around to fix me with empty eyes. I toss her one of my daggers. "This is yours now."

Carey stares blankly at the blade. "Why?"

"Because you don't have your own weapon. I can't have an ally of mine walking around defenceless."

"You trust me enough to give me a weapon?"

I nod, giving her a smile that I hope looks encouraging. "Of course. You're one of us now. And I trust my allies completely." But Takeko...No. Best not to think of that.

Carey's expression darkens. "You shouldn't trust me."

"Well, I do. Too bad." I'm not going to let her talk me out of this. You can't gain someone's trust without first giving them yours. Besides, I've already decided that Carey had nothing to do with the betrayal, so why would I worry?

She nods dully, then sticks the dagger into her belt before walking away without a word. Conflicting emotions battle inside me. I want to protect her and everyone else who can't protect themselves. But I can't. Not here. Not in the arena. I can try as hard as I want, but nothing will change the undeniable truth.

"She frightens me," Topher says. I glance at him, but he has already gone back to watching the horizon. I don't disagree with his assessment, but Carey is someone who needs a helping hand, not more isolation.

I'm thinking about how best to handle this when I hear Topher cry out in surprise.

I'm there in an instant, staring over the ridge at the figure that has just emerged from behind one of the biomes many rock piles. I struggle to place the girl, with her blonde hair and lavender jacket. Nylah? No. She's a brunette. And besides, District 14 doesn't have lavender as their color. So this must be--

"Emma!" Topher lets out a gleeful shout. He claps his hands together and is about to run down and approach the girl when I reach out a hand and haul him back.

"It's a trap!" I hiss. Seconds later, I'm proven right.

Another tribute emerges from the rock pile, smoothly stepping out behind Emma. The girl is so focused on the two of us that she doesn't see it coming. Takeko pulls the girl in front of herself, placing the blade of a knife against her throat.

I curse. This is bad. Real bad. I hadn't anticipated having to deal with Takeko again so quickly. Admittedly, I'd have preferred if someone else had killed her. She's too dangerous an opponent for me to wanna face.

But it looks like I won't have that luxury.

"Throw down your weapons!" Takeko yells, moving closer yet keeping Emma in front of her at all times. "Otherwise Emma here will get her pretty little throat cut."

Topher automatically drops his machete. It skitters down the slight incline and comes to a rest just outside my ring of gasoline. "Don't hurt her!" He pleads. "She's innocent! She has done nothing unlawful!"

I remain silent, studying Emma's face. I had expected to see her frightened or crying, but the expression that she holds is one of...anger? I don't understand, but I don't have the time to figure it out. Takeko uses her free hand to point at me. "You too, Zamara. Drop your weapons if you want to see Emma live!"

I keep my weapons in hand as I answer. "And why should I believe you? You're a known traitor. A murderer. You expect me to believe that you'll keep your word?" I'm stalling. I need time to think, to find a way out of this situation. As I'm thinking this, Carey returns.

She walks up beside me, examining the scene before us with a blank face. She looks at Topher, then Takeko and Emma, and finally, at me. "What is happening?" She asks dully.

"Carey, grab their bags!" Takeko answers before I can. She hasn't moved her blade from Emma's throat. "We're getting out of here--and taking their stuff with us."

"Like hell you are!" Rage fills me. Rage of the like I haven't felt in a long time. Takeko thinks that she can order me around? Steal my supplies? Threaten the life of a friend? Well, jokes on her. I won't give up my weapons. I won't! "You're not getting anything, traitor."

"What?" Topher spins to face me, looking terrified. "Zamara, you can't! If we don't give her what she wants she'll kill Emma!"

"And what do you think she'll do to us if we surrender our weapons?" I ask him. "Have you thought of that?"

Topher opens his mouth only to close it again. Fear and desperation fill his eyes. Emma has been a friend of his since training. She's basically been one of the only friends he's ever had. I understand how he would want to do everything in his power to keep her alive.

But I won't put myself at Takeko's mercy.

I'm breathing in sharp, quick gasps, my heart thundering inside my chest. This is it. Takeko and I will fight, here and now. Emma will die, unfortunately. I can't stop it. Can't think how I could. But I don't believe I can beat Takeko. Not with my injured arm and only a dagger and twelve arrows for weapons. If I had a bow...but no. I don't have a bow. I can only work with what I have. I can win. I know I can. And with Topher and Carey working alongside me, together we will--

Topher drops his bag to the ground. "You can have everything in my possession," He tells Takeko, his voice cracking. "But please....don't kill Emma!" Slowly, he lowers himself to his knees and bows to her.

Takeko's eyes flicker to me. I can see the anger in them, even from here. "Carey, pick up Topher's stuff and bring it to me."

I can't help but laugh. "You don't know people very well, do you, Takeko? Carey won't help you after you abandoned her like that. She's not going to--"

The words die on my lips as Carey bends down and picks up Topher's bag. She snatches up his machete, then takes several steps towards Takeko. She doesn't even hesitate. She betrays me, just like that.

I feel dead inside. I had opened up to Carey. I trusted her. And she is betraying me.

I was wrong. I thought that she wasn't in on yesterday's betrayal, but obviously that was wrong. She knew. She must have. She knew and accepted my help anyways. She was part of the plan that got Luigi, Armado, and Lavender killed. She helped kill my allies.

And I saved her life.

"Carey..." I feel my grip tighten on the dagger. Traitor. Thief. Murderer!

Carey stops and turns to fix me with a blank gaze. She blinks twice. "I told you not to trust me, Zamara. It isn't my fault you didn't listen."

I'm too furious to speak. I doubt I'd have anything to say anyways. All I want is her and Takeko's death. Traitors. They're worse than the Careers. At least they don't lie about what they are. I hate liars. I hate traitors. I hate murderers!

Carey steps up beside Takeko and that's when I finally notice it. Takeko has been slowly edging up this entire time, and now she's standing right on the gasoline trail. Breath catches in my throat as I realize I won't get a more perfect opportunity. I can kill both of them with one move. Emma would get caught in the blaze, but what was it that Carey told me? That I cannot protect everyone? Well, I'll show her that I know that truth well enough.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a match.

Carey's eyes widen. Too late do I remember that I told her about the gasoline. But I can't stop now. I've already cast the dice. Time to see where they land.

I strike the match and toss it just as Carey lets out a feral hiss, breaking out into a full sprint. Takeko sees her reaction and knows something is wrong. She takes a step backwards, loosening her grip on Emma for a second.

That's all she needs.

Emma's elbow slams into Takeko's head and the girl stumbles, cursing loudly. Emma runs. Topher screams. Takeko growls and holds out her sword. I drop the match.

And the flames burst alive.

Emma Brynne (District 9)
The flames burst into existence, racing across the rocky landscape in a flash and transforming the place into a burning hellscape. I stumble away free from Takeko, shielding my eyes. The screams and shouts of others surround me.

My foot kicks something and I bend down and pick it up without thinking. Good thing I did. I now hold a machete in wavering hands, the same one Carey took from Topher. She must have dropped it in her haste to escape the fire.

"You can't run, Emma!" Takeko whips her head around to glare at me. She holds her katana in a tight two-handed grip. "You can't run away from fate."

I'm lucky to be alive. I was stupid and careless, letting myself get distracted by the sight of Topher and the rest. I nearly fell right into Takeko's clutches. Well, I won't make that mistake again!

"I'm not running!" I scream in defiance. To my right, the flames burn hot and fast. I can just make out Topher's terrified face behind them. "I do not fear you." It's true. I've been through so much, have lost so many people, that I find myself immune to the fear that permeates this place. What can Takeko do to me? Kill me? So what! I've already died numerous times.

Takeko growls, shifting her body so that she faces me. I look for Zamara, hoping that she is somewhere close enough to help, when I find her on the other side of the flamewall. My heart sinks. I will receive no help there.

I must fight Takeko alone.

I hold the machete with one hand, slipping the other into my pocket and pulling out one of my throwing knives. I can beat her. I've done similar before. Avan and Pompeii are dead by my hand. How hard can it be to kill Takeko? I just have to kill her quickly, before she can react.

I throw my knife straight at her face.

Takeko dodges to the side, impossibly fast. Her eyes never leave my face as she begins to shuffle around, circling me. Topher is screaming something. Telling me to run, I think. But I won't run. Not anymore.

I've spent my entire life running. I've run from responsibility, from those I've failed. The time has come for me to stand and face my demons. I've let others do the fighting for me. Well, not anymore. This ends here!

I rush Takeko, swinging the machete with a tremendous battle cry. She sidesteps then, in one quick, presice motion, slashes out with her katana. There's a sudden, excruciating pain in my eyes. It stabs like spikes into my skull, immoblizing me. I gasp at the sheer intensity of it, falling to my knees.

"Go ahead, run!" Takeko's voice rings out over the crackling of the flames, mocking and cruel.

I can't respond. I'm gasping, struggling with the constant, never-ending pain. I reach up a trembling hand to my eyes, praying that I won't find what I fear I will. When my fingers feel the ruined mush of my eyes, I nearly vomit.

Takeko has sliced out my eyes.

I struggle to my feet, staggering against a rock as a wave of nausea washes over me. I can't see. I can't see! Darkness. Nothing but endless darkness! Takeko steps closer. I can feel her approaching. But I can't see a thing. I stretch out my hands, waving them wildly to defend against the attack I know is coming.

And then there's a searing, fiery pain, like a hot knife in my belly. I fall back against the rocks, reaching down to blindly touch the sliced remnants of my shirt and a thick, slippery mass of...

I fall to my side. My breath is nothing more than thin, strained whistles while I hold in my own intestines. There is nothing but darkness. Deep, impenetrable darkness. Darkness and pain. Was this what it was like for Cadence? For Bastion?

No...no, their deaths were quick. They only had seconds before they died. They didn't have this sheer, agonizing pain as they slowly bled out. Only me. Only me.

Is this my punishment for failing to save them?

"I'll kill you! I'll rip your freaking heart out!" Someone is screaming, though it sounds muted, distant. Like a lonely voice at the end of a tunnel.

"You're certainly welcome to try."

Who...? My head slumps against the cold, hard ground. I draw in one last shaky breath as I hear somebody scream.

"Emmmmmmmaaaaa!"

Lilah Jöllenbeck (District 8)
From my vantage point atop the highest rock formation in the hot springs, I watch as the smoldering rocks finally begins to fade. The battle is over. The tributes long since gone.

My heart is still pounding a million beats per second. My is skin cold and clammy. I'm trembling, but with excitement or fear I don't know. A fight has just wrapped up. One between Zamara and her alliance against Takeko.

I haven't seen much of the other tributes prior to now, but what I've seen frightens me. Takeko is dangerous. Her skill is something that I don't think even I, someone who has been trained as an assassin, can match. She killed Emma with contemptuous ease. The poor girl didn't stand a chance.

I pull my head back behind the rock and take a deep breath. Takeko and her ally—I don't remember her name—fled in the direction of the ominous woods after killing Emma. The wall of fire was the only thing stopping them from killing Zamara and Topher, I think. As for those two, they waited until the fire died down then took off in the opposite direction, towards the bamboo forest.

I don't know how far they'll get. Topher looked very distraught. After Emma died he wouldn't stop crying, so Zamara had to practically drag him away. If the fire wall hadn't been in the way, he probably would have attacked Takeko then and there.

I'm just glad that the fighting didn't spill over this way. The alcove that I'm hiding in isn't that far from the battlegrounds. Had they only drifted a little further north, they would have been practically atop me.

I didn't, and still don't, want to get involved in that large a battle. Just about anything can go wrong. I could get killed by a weapon not even meant for me. No, I don't very much like large-scale battles.

You're just a coward!

Violet scolds me, but I ignore her. I'm not a coward. I'm practical. Why would I want to get involved in such a dangerous affair? Better to wait it out and let the others kill each other. They won't be coming for me. After all, everyone who ever met me in the arena is dead. Luigi and Jayda both died yesterday.

Except she didn't. Jayda didn't die. I don't understand how, but she must have found some way to survive my attack. She wasn't in the sky with the others, her face was absent. Why? How could she possibly have survived? I stabbed her in the chest, right below the heart. That should have been a fatal wound. There's no way somebody could have survived such a thing.

Yet Jayda did.

It doesn't make sense, but hardly anything makes sense anymore. Sometimes I think that I've completely lost my sanity, that gone so deep into the well of psychosis that I've begun to drown.

What would Dr. Strauss tell me? I think I know. He would tell me that the Jayda I saw yesterday wasn't real, that she was just a figment of my imagination. He'd say that I was so stressed and panicked that I let my sense of reality slip. He'd tell me to calm down, to try and think things through rationally.

I take a deep breath and count to ten. She wasn't real. That Jayda wasn't real. She was just a figment of my—

She was real. I freeze. Violet's voice rings clear through my head, breaking the fog of illusion. ''That girl, the one who claimed to be Jayda, she was real. I know it.''

I sit in a silent stupor, trying to process my thoughts. Violet hasn't lied to me before. She only deals in truths. If she says that she was real...

"What do you mean?" I whisper into empty air. "The girl who "claimed" to be Jayda? Are you saying it wasn't actually her?"

Silence. Then...Yes.

I blink. How does Violet know this? And, more importantly, if she is right then that means I didn't kill Jayda. I killed...who? "If she wasn't Jayda, then who was she?"

I...don't know. Violet sounds unsure of herself, something that I've never before experienced. Violet is always confident. Always in control. If she is losing her composure now...Have I finally snapped?

No!

I'm not insane. Not anymore than usual. I can't give in to doubt. Not when I have so much depending on me. My child...she is back home. She needs me. I can't let myself be mislead like this. It doesn't matter who that girl was. She's dead now, so there's no point thinking about it.

I just have to focus on staying alive.

"Over there!"

I nearly jump out of my own skin at the sound of the voice. I throw myself down, pressing my face against the rock, and open my ears. Voices. Footsteps. The jangle of steel weapons. That can only mean...

I crawl to the edge of the slope, careful not to reveal myself, and peek over. Three tributes are approaching the burnt hollow where the fight took place. Careers. I was wondering if they'd come.

I watch them as they approach. Two slowly move ahead, fanning out in opposite directions. The third hangs back a bit, guarding the rear. They seem very well organized. Unfortunate. I was hoping that the trio would be weakened after losing some of their own yesterday, but they don't seem any worse off. If anything, they seem to be on high alert.

As I observe, I notice they're searching through the mess, perhaps trying to find some clues that will lead them to other tributes. Fine by me. The more they kill, the closer they bring me to victory.

You could kill them, you know.

I grit my teeth. Now is not the time for this! "I can't kill three Careers," I whisper, praying that my voice won't carry over the rocks. "One, yes. Two, maybe. But three? Not possible."

''You're an assassin, aren't you? So stop acting like a damn toe-sucking rag and go KILL them!''

The one in the back, the girl, is far enough from the others that they wouldn't notice her death. I could creep across the plain, using the rocks for cover, and pull up behind her. One swift stab through the neck would silence her before she even knew to scream.

The others would hear the cannon, of course. But I would already have moved on, chosen a new spot to hide. I would lurk in the shadows, waiting for them to slip up. Eventually they would give me an opportunity. I would kill Silve first, thrust a blade into his back and end him instantly. Then it would just be me and Ash. I could beat him. He's not that tough. I could kill them all...I could...

No.

What am I thinking? I'd never be able to pull that off. I would do something to alert them, or miss my thrust on Silve and find myself facing two opponents instead of one. I would fail. I know that.

You're just a coward! Violet sneers in disgust. ''You keep whining about how much you want to see your daughter, but do you actually do anything that would help you reach that goal? No! You're a lying little bitch who isn't worth anything! You don't actually like your daughter, do you? That's just a lie you tell yourself so that—''

"Shut up!" The words come unbidden from my lips. Instantly I know that they're a mistake, that I may have just signed my death warrant. In the distance, one of the Careers spins to face my direction and I throw myself back down into cover.

He saw me! They're coming for me! Panic constricts my throat as I fumble for my weapons. They'll march over here and slaughter me! I won't get home. I won't be able to provide my baby girl with the life she deserves. I'll...

Snap out of it! I slink down towards my trap, heart still beating a thousand times a minute. I can still escape this. I just need to think logically. Be methodical. They don't know my exact location, so it'll take a bit of searching before they find me. I just need to follow my escape plan and everything will be fine.

Any plan made by a dumbass like you is destined to fail!

I ignore her. I spent this morning planning an escape to the mystic grove in the event I was attacked, so I begin retracing the route in my mind. I'm rounding a clump of boulders when I see something that makes me freeze.

The Careers. They're still out near the plateau where the fight happened, but now they're grouped together and...I don't believe it. They're walking away from me!

The Career didn't see me. He heard me, but he didn't see me. He must have figured that the noise wasn't worth investigating. I feel foolish, but at the same time I know that it is better to be overly paranoid then overly careless.

Moron.

The Careers leave. I watch as they fade into the distance, then I watch some more. I keep watching until the sunlight ceases and the arena is cast in darkness. And I still watch. I can never stop watching. Not here. Not in the arena. You never know when someone is going to come for you.

Nylah Nichole (District 14)
I am content to let the day end so that I may start over anew. I sit on the edge of the swamp, nestled in a little cubby cut into the rockface that borders the cliffs leading up. I have shelter. I have food and water. I have weapons. What else do I need?

I watch the trees billow in the wind, taking a bite of roasted squirrel. I caught the animal this morning and cooked it just around nightfall, so that the smoke would be harder to spot. Unlike majority of the tributes in this arena, I actually know what it is like to survive in the wild, to provide for yourself. I've been getting my own food and drink for days now, while the others are no doubt dependent on their sponsors and the cornucopia's bounty.

This is based entirely of my observations of them during training; I've hardly seen a single tribute in the arena itself. Yes, I killed one of the Anti-Careers early on, but I didn't really get a good luck at their tactics or supplies. And Corin and Cecil surprised me, attacking when I was unprepared. Sloppy. I should never have let that happen. Still, I turned the tables around. Everything ended up fine.

I would have preferred to finish the pair of them off today, but I haven't been able to find them. That's a real problem with the dwindling amount of tributes; finding them is going to be a lot harder. Just as I finish thinking this, I hear something above me.

Voices? I crane my head back, looking up the rocky slope of the cliff. The mystic grove should be right up there. The very place where I fought Cecil and Corin. Did they return?

"We can stop here. I don't think she'll find us." A feminine voice calls out and the footsteps cease. Yes, they're right above me. "We can...get some rest." The speaker sounds exhausted. They must have just been in a fight, or at least running from one. Who is it? Certainly not the Careers. Jayda, perhaps?

"I...okay." This is a new voice. A male one. Whoever it is, they sound even worse than the other. I recognize utter despair when I hear it. I've heard it enough times before.

"We'll get our revenge, Topher. Don't worry. We'll make her pay." Scraping sounds emit from the top of the chasm, followed by the snapping of branches. They're making a fire, I'd guess. Not a bad idea. I don't believe that the Careers will be hunting through this night, not with their decreased numbers.

"I don't want revenge...I just want my friends back..." The boy--Topher, the girl called him--seems like the whiny type. I've always hated those. Why waste time and energy complaining when you could be doing something to better your situation? Too many people prefer to sit around and play the victim when they should be focusing on fixing real problems.

"Your friends are dead, Topher. Dead." The girl sounds furious. Her voice is like a tiny, angry storm. "They're not coming back. Takeko killed them all. And we'll make her pay for it."

"Takeko didn't kill them all."

"Oh? Do you suppose a magical fairy sliced out Emma's eyes then?"

"Of course not. I was merely...Takeko did not kill Bastien, or Elia and Nicholas." Elia? She was the girl from District 7, I remember. I killed her at the bloodbath. Stuck a knife in her chest. I'm glad that I killed her so early as she'd be a real contender by this point in the Games.

"We'll get vengeance for them too. Don't worry. I'll kill anyone who has hurt another unjustly."

There's fire in those words. Passion. I can use that, turn it to my advantage. People who are led by their emotions are easily manipulated. I still haven't pegged the girl's district yet, though. She's allied with Topher, so that would imply she was part of the Fools. But since they mentioned that Emma had her "eyes sliced out", then that means all female Fools are dead. Who is this, then? Lilah? It wouldn't be a stretch for the Anti-Careers to have merged with the remainder of the Fools.

I keep an ear out for more information, but the conversation fades away. Soon all I can hear is the crackling of a small fire that they must have started. Yes, I can see the light leaking down from the cliff.

"Zamara?" Topher suddenly speaks. His voice sounds so fragile. "Don't...don't get caught up in vengeance, all right? It will destroy you if you're not careful...I don't want to lose you too."

I cannot hear the reply, but it does not matter. Zamara. So the pair from District 0 aligned with each other, did they? Makes sense. They would know each other best, after all. I knew Bastien well enough. Not that I ever liked him. Too naive, he was.

I shift myself into a more comfortable position, thinking on the tributes who remain. There are thirteen of us left. How many alliances? The pair above me is one. So are the three Careers. Takeko and Carey are both alive and I wouldn't doubt that they're still together. That's seven tributes in total. Jayda and Lilah might also be aligned, but I saw enough of their fragile psyches in training to know that they may well have separate the moment Luigi died. Still, I cannot just make assumptions. Finally, there is Corin and Cecil.

The last time I saw Corin she was plunging into this swamp. I was certain she would die, but when I didn't hear the cannon I knew. That's the reason why I even came to the swamp--I was looking to finish the job.

If the two of them have reunited, then I am in trouble. That would put eleven of the thirteen tributes in an alliance, leaving out only me and Surorian. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that this doesn't leave me in a good position. There's no use fretting about something I can't change, of course, but I need to acknowledge the situation I am in.

The voices above me seem to fade away. I don't doubt that they're still there; they're probably just resting now. I entertain the notion of scaling the cliff wall and killing the two of them, but ultimately decide against it. A climb in this darkness could prove fatal. One wrong move and I'd go plummeting. Better not to take such a risk.

So I settle myself snugly into the alcove and take the most rational course. I wait.

Corin Greer (District 5)
Night has fallen. I sit in a hollowed out log in a pile of thick undergrowth, waiting for something to happen. I spent the majority of my day searching for Cecil to no avail. I haven't found anything, not even a small trace of him. A few hours ago I decided that traipsing around the arena without a plan was foolhardy, so I've stayed put for the time being.

Nothing has happened.

It's not like I expected Cecil to just wander past or anything but...well, I thought that something would happen. But no, I've just been sitting in the remnants of the bamboo forest for several hours doing nothing but watch time pass. It's infuriating.

A lone cannon has gone off today. I don't know who died. I have no real way of figuring it out. I figure I can wait for the Anthem. Of course, if it was Cecil...

His death would only have strategic consequences. We don't have any emotional bond or anything, so I wouldn't be too torn up. But having that extra person by my side is crucial. There was a reason why I sought him as an ally in the first place.

I shift my body, trying to make myself more comfortable. Lying in wait all day is annoying. And painful. I've gotten so many cramps that I was forced to walk around just relieve myself of the stress. Not knowing who died hasn't helped. There's no point speculating, but...

Footsteps.

I tense my body, one hand sliding for my sword while the other forms a rigid fist. Only one set. So it's a loner. Who? Nylah, come to finish me off? Or one of the others? Hopefully not Surorian. Something about him is just...off.

The footsteps draw closer. I'm in a crouch, ready to spring out if the tribute passes by. And it's becoming increasingly obvious that they will. The footsteps vibrate on the forest floor so loudly that they may as well be earthquakes. Soon they will be upon m.

I see their feet first. Dark shapes that cross right in front of my hiding spot. The tribute continues on for several paces before stopping, then they turn around. And stare right at my hiding spot.

Ice runs down my spine. They know that I am here. But before I can do anything, a voice calls out. "Corin? Is that you? If so, please don't slice me with your sword."

My jaw drops. I know that voice...Cecil!

I step out from the bushes and find myself face-to-face with him. He looks the same as usual, if a bit more haggard. His dark brown hair is a mess, poking out in several places and is coated in a thin layer of leaves. But most startling is his eyes. They're wide and uncovered, staring out sightlessly into the world.

"Corin?" He sounds uncertain and he keeps shifting his weight, as if ready to run at a moment's notice. "Please don't stay silent. I need--I want to make sure it's you."

"It's me." I feel guilty. I had completely forgotten he couldn't see me. "I'm here, Cecil."

He lets out a small breath. "Thank God. I was worried there. For a second I thought I made a mistake and that you were actually someone else."

"How did you know where I was?" I demand. Cecil flinches, and I realize I spoke a little more sharply then I intended. It's not that I'm unhappy he found me; I'm just concerned that I was found so easily. What if he had been someone else?

"I heard someone breathing," Cecil begins, sounding a little embarrassed. "And I thought, well, I thought that I would try and draw them out. I figured that if they didn't attack me, then they were probably harmless. Or you."

"That was a gamble," I'm surprised that he was so reckless. "What if it was a Career?"

Cecil fixes me with a withering gaze. "The Careers? Hiding in a bush?"

It's my turn to feel embarrassed. "Okay, okay. It wouldn't be them. But what about Surorian? What would you have done if he sprang out and attacked you?"

"I doubt he is the guy to hide in a bush and wait for someone to walk by. And, besides, I had these," Cecil opens his hands and reveals a pair of shurikens. "Had anyone tried to kill me, I'd have buried these into their skull."

I silently berate myself for not noticing those earlier. How could I let weapons go unnoticed? Eager to change the subject, I ask Cecil a question. "What've you been doing? Since we got separated, I mean?"

"Looking for you."

Well, I suppose I could have guessed that. "A cannon went off earlier. Know anything about it?"

Cecil shakes his head as he slowly lowers himself to the grass. "No. You're the first tribute I've seen all day."

I join him on the ground, sitting cross-legged across from him. My whole day was planned around finding Cecil. Now that he's here...well, I don't know what to do. "The Anthem shouldn't be too far off," I say, though I honestly have no clue when the Anthem will play.

Cecil nods slowly. "True. We'll find out who died then, I suppose."

"Finding you was easy then I expected," I don't know why I'm speaking. I detest snalltalk. Maybe I just want to hear someone's voice. I have been alone for awhile, after all. "Thought that I would have to scour the whole arena."

Cecil is picking at the grass. He pulls out a single strand and examines it lazily. "I didn't realize you cared for me that much."

"I don't," I say automatically. "I just need you as an ally. I'll use you as long as I can. You don't just abandon a tool."

He raises an eyebrow. "Well, that certainly makes me feel better. Thank you."

I grunt, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Why did I just blurt that out? People tell me I'm blunt, yes, but I'm never that blunt. What I just did was rude and immature. It was...a defence mechanism. He accused me of caring, so I immediately went to deny it. Stupid.

I don't care. Not about Cecil or anyone else. I can only focus on winning. I can't afford to become friends with someone who is, for all extents and purposes, a walking corpse. I'll kill him myself, eventually.

This was much easier to think when I wasn't staring Cecil in the face.

I stand up, flushed with embarrassment and confusion. Am I doubting myself? Now, of all times? Why? I was so confident last night. So sure. How quickly that confidence has evaporated.

"We should post a lookout on each side," I say suddenly, "we never know when someone is going to come walking past, so we need to keep our eyes open."

Cecil looks up slowly, nodding. "That is a good idea, yes. But do keep in mind that I cannot actually see anyone. Open eyes or not." It's not until I see the grin on his face do I realize he is joking. For some reason that irks me.

"Just stand guard on the other side, by that stump, will you?"

He nods and heads off, moving so quietly that I can barely hear him. He's good. Maybe a little too good. I move over to sit beside a raspberry bush, where I have a better view of the forest, once he is gone. Now lone, I soon find myself deep in thought. Why am I so on edge? I should be pleased, but instead I feel...uneasy.

I can only imagine it's because, deep down, I do not truly wish to see Cecil dead. Well, I obviously don't want him dead, I never did. It's just that now I'm beginning to befriend him. Understand him. Dangerous. Sympathy can easily lead to death in this game. Well, there's nothing to be done. Rather, there's only one thing to be done. Sighing, I look up.

Cecil is standing right in front of me.

Though I am completely and utterly shocked by his sudden appearance, I do not scream. I keep my face blank as I stare at him, wondering just what he is thinking. "Cecil, what are you doing? Didn't we just agree--"

"Corin!" He lets out a giddy yelp, rushing forward and wrapping me in a hug. "I found you! Haha! I can't believe it! I actually found you!"

I push him off me. "What the hell are you talking about Cecil?"

He stumbles backwards before catching himself. When he finally rights himself, he grins at me, his too-wide eyes sparkling. "Guess no one thinks I'm useless anymore, huh? I doubt any of them thought a blind guy could navigate his way through the arena!"

"Excuse me?"

"It took me all day, but I finally found you!" He lets out a small laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I'm glad that you're unharmed. When you fell into that swamp I was worried. Hey, you are unharmed, right?"

"Cecil, you're worrying me." What he's saying doesn't make sense! Why is he acting so stupid? "Cecil, did...did you hit your head? Or eat a mushroom or something?"

Cecil stops mid-sentence. "I...what? What do you mean?"

He sounds so honest that I'm worried he did hit his head somewhere behind that bush. "It's just that, well, you're acting odd," God! How to put it? "The things you're saying, they don't make sense!"

"How so?" It's Cecil's turn to be confused. He scratches his head, staring through me with those blank eyes of his. "Did you think I would be completely helpless without you? Well, I'm not. I already told you that--"

"Corin? Who are you talking to?"

Someone steps out from the bushes, approaching at a careful walk. When I see him, my jaw drops. It doesn't make sense. It shouldn't be possible. Unnatural. Impossible.

It is Cecil.

I flick my gaze back in front of me thinking that, maybe, I am just exhausted and seeing things. But no. Cecil is still standing before me, his cheeks flushed red with excitement and hair a tangled and sprawling mess. He is Cecil, my ally.

But he is also standing right behind me.

Cecil. A second Cecil. No, the first. He was the one who I sent to keep watch. He's Cecil. But if that's the case then...who is the other one?

"Corin?" Cecil--the one in front of me--sounds bewildered. He is staring in the direction of the other Cecil, frowning. "I...who is that?"

Two Cecil's. My mind has blanked. This isn't happening. This is impossible. A person can not be in two places at one time. That isn't logical. Only one of them can be real. The other is fake, an imposter, a...I don't know.

I don't know what the hell is going on. "I...that's you, Cecil. You're...you're in two places at once." Even to my own ears I sound crazy. Cecil simply gapes at me. But the other Cecil, he understands.

"A replica," He says softly, gazing out with sightless eyes. "There's a replica of me."

Two Cecil's. It's hard to believe, but the facts don't lie. My eyes don't lie. There is two Cecil's. One is fake. He must be. But the other is real. He is my ally. So, it is obvious what must be done. I need to figure out which is real and which is fake.

Only, I have no idea how.

Takeko Zhou (District 10)
I walk into the small alcove where we've made our camp. Carey sits on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around herself. I stare at her in distaste. "You didn't help in the battle."

She doesn't even look at me as she speaks. "No, I didn't."

"Care to explain why?" It's not that I needed her help; I could have killed all three of those tributes by myself with relative ease. But I don't expect my ally to just abandon me in the midst of battle, not even an unorthodox one like Carey.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes." I squat down across from her, eyes scanning the forest around us. We fell back to the ominous woods after the battle. Retreating to familiar ground is a wise tactic, and it gives me an advantage should Zamara try and hunt me down. And she will. Of that, I have no doubt. The anger inside her burns hot and fast, and won't die out until she's faced me in the field of battle.

Of course, that battle would result in her death.

Carey, who has been silent for an extended period of time, clenches her right fist, the one that belongs to the blackened hand. I don't know what happened to it. Carey refused to explain when I asked. "The fire," She says quietly, "I couldn't be by the fire."

I narrow my eyes. What is it about Carey and fire? It is clear that she is terrified of it, but I cannot fathom why. Maybe there is no point wondering. Some people just fear the dumbest things.

Carey goes back to silence, so I focus on another task instead. I take out the bag we received from Topher and start going through its contents. I don't know what I expected from that simple-minded fool, but he did not have much possessions. He has a spile, an empty cateen, and half portions of food. I can only assume that Zamara has the other half.

I would have liked to have taken her supplies as well. Everything I knew about the girl said that she should have turned it over in exchange for Emma's life. But she didn't. Perhaps she is finally accepting the fact that she has to play the Games. If that is the case, then she might just be competition after all.

"Carey," I stick the items back into the bag, "you were with them for most of the day. Did you see what kind of supplies they had?"

Carey shrugs. "I was unconscious most of the time. But I know that Zamara has a bow. No arrows, though."

No need to fear her archery skills, then. "What about her supplies? Any idea about those?"

"No. She never showed me her supplies."

So she didn't completely trust Carey after all. Seeing how badly she took Carey's "betrayal" I had thought that she might have told the girl everything about her. Apparently not. Another thought comes to me. "You know that Zamara hates you now, yes?"

"Yes."

"And that she will stop at nothing to see you dead?"

"Just like all the other tributes. But yes, I know that." Carey shifts herself around so that she faces me. "Why are you asking this?"

"I was merely ensuring that you knew how things stood." Carey will not betray me now. Where would she go? Zamara would never take her, and the other tributes would kill her on sight. The girl is tethered to me, whether she likes it or not.

Yes, Carey is my ally. For how long I can afford to keep her around, I know not. She will eventually become a liability. But right now she provides a much needed extra pair of hands and--more importantly--a distraction for anyone who tries to kill me.

I look up at the sky. Only a tiny sliver is visible through the trees. "Try to get some rest," I tell Carey, "something tells me that come tomorrow we have a long day ahead of us."

"Why don't you scream?"

"What?" I spin back to face her, surprised by the question. She stares right through me, seemingly gazing off into nothingness. When she finally speaks, her words are a jumbled mess.

"This heat! Of death. Of death and the dead and the dead and their not talking and not screaming of death except of the death that does not come." She points a finger at me. "You were on fire! The walls were on fire. The floor was on fire. Burning and the inside of a cannot where to be and then at all. Where?"

Never before have I been confronted with something so mind-bogglingly insane. I stand before Carey, who is raving like a lunatic, and have no idea what has brought this on. She was just fine a moment ago. What happened?

Carey blinks and the vacant look in her eyes is gone. Awareness floods back into her body. She stares at me in confusion, then ducks her head. "The poison," She whispers so softly that I barely hear, "it is not finished with me, it seems."

I don't know how to respond. For the first time ever, I am unsettled to the point of inaction. This was not something I planned for. But it doesn't matter now. Things have already been set. And I will win. Whether my ally is a lunatic or not, I will win.

Corin Greer (District 5)
"Corin, I don't know what he's been telling you but...he's not me! He's fake!"

"Don't listen to him, Corin! He's obviously an impostor! He probably wants to kill us both!"

I stand in the middle of an empty plain, staring at two identical beings as they both yell at me, encouraging me to believe in them and discard the other. Thoughts churn in my head a thousand times a second. Who is telling the truth? Who is lying? Who is the impostor?

What is the impostor?

"Corin, you have to believe me!" The first Cecil, the one who I met first, speaks. His face is tight, his eyes distraught. He looks so much like the Cecil I know that I want to believe him here and now. But the other Cecil looks exactly the same.

They're identical. I've looked at the pair of them from every possible angle and have yet to find a major difference. The face is the same, the eyes are the same, even the clothes are the same!

How am I ever supposed to know which is real?

"He's lying!" The second Cecil seems more angry then upset. His face is contorted with a fury that I never saw Cecil exhibit before. Does that mean he is fake? "He's an impostor! A...I don't know, a mutt! Yes, that's it! He's some kind of mutt!"

"I'm not the mutt! He is!"

I close my eyes, trying to block out their words. Think, think! How can I tell the difference? One is real. The other is a mutt. That has to be the case. How else could you explain it? Unless Cecil happened to have an identical twin who was trapped inside the arena for some unfathomable reason, then a mutt is the only answer that makes sense. But how do I tell a mutt apart from the real thing?

They continue to shout at me, pleading for me to believe them over the other. The ironic thing is that they cannot even see one another. They're just standing there, blind, yelling out—

Blind.

That's it! Cecil is blind! If I can get the mutt to make an mistake, if I can make it reveal its hand...I have a plan. I open my eyes and do the only thing I can to make them silent. I shout.

"Shut up!"

They both go silent immediately. One shifts from foot to foot, the other scratches his head. Which behavior is more Cecil-like? I can't remember. "Listen closely, because I'm not going to repeat myself. I'm going to ask you both a series of questions. Your answers will tell which of you is real and which of you is fake."

"Corin, I'm not fake!" Cecil Two takes a step towards me. I swivel on the spot, drawing my sword and levelling it at his chest.

"Don't take another step!"

"I...okay. I understand." I can hear the hurt in his voice. Or do I? Is he simply pretending? Can I tell fabricated emotion from genuine? I feel my composure begin to crack. I've never felt this lost before. Never felt so impotent. I take a deep breath.

"What," I begin, thinking quickly, "is my middle name?"

Cecil One furrows his brow. He looks deep in thought. Cecil Two, however, shakes his head. "You've never told me your middle name, Corin."

That's right. I never have. But one correct answer does not a Cecil make. I need more proof, more evidence, before I can decide. I move on to the next question, hoping to catch the fake. "What color is my jacket?"

This time neither Cecil is quick to answer. Both of them stare off into space, apparently thinking. Come on! Slip up! All I need is one wrong answer. But when they finally respond, doing so at the same time, neither answer is incriminating.

"Which jacket?"

"I can't possibly know that!"

So. The fake isn't going to be fooled that easy, it seems. But if I can't get it to slip up, then I don't know how I can ever get my answer. There has been no conversation between me and Cecil that the cameras haven't caught, nothing about me that the Capitol wouldn't have told their mutt. And I don't know Cecil well enough to ask any personal questions. I know barely anything about him!

He must be terrified right now. Standing in the darkness, able to hear his own voice coming out of another's mouth, not knowing whether I'll believe him or the fake. I thought to try and use that emotion to spot the real one, but I can't because both of them look equally horrified. Is the fake that good an actor? It seems impossible.

"Corin?" Cecil Two frowns at me. "Are...you okay? You've been silent for awhile now..."

"I'm the real Cecil," Cecil One interjects. "And I can prove it."

Immediately the other begins to protest, but I silence him with a wave of my sword. "Let me hear this proof."

Cecil One nods at me, a small smile playing on his lips. "My name is Cecil Thayer. My mother is Lillias Rhett Thayer. My step-father is Conan Thayer. When I was three Conan attacked my mother with a flare gun. However, I jumped into—"

"Liar!"

With a roar of anger Cecil Two lunges across the open space, hands grasping towards his doppelganger. I act instantly. I kick out with my foot, connecting with Cecil's knee and knocking him to the ground. He rolls onto his back and stares into the sky with a stunned expression. "Corin? Why did you stop me? That...that thing is a monster! We need to kill it!"

I shake my head. "No. I won't let you tear each other apart. Not until I know the truth." And, right now, it looks like the impostor is right before me. Cecil One's story has too much detail. A fake couldn't possibly—

"I had a neighbor named Ophelia Forrester!" Cecil Two says from the ground. "Her husband was blind, so she knew what it was like for me. She was the one who taught me how to live with my...disability."

Cecil Two stares at him in shock. "How—how do you know that?"

"Because it's my life! I lived every second of it!"

This is getting out of hand. The two begin to bicker back and forth, alternating telling tales about his life and demanding to know how the other learned about it. Each of them seems to know Cecil's whole life story, almost every beat of it. Sometimes one will say something that the other argues never happened, but I don't know enough about Cecil's life to find the discrepancy. In short, this isn't working.

"Stop talking, both of you!" My voice has gone cold. Emotion has retreated and, in its place, cruel logic has taken hold. "If I can't tell the difference between the two of you then...well, I'll just abandon you both."

"Corin, no!"

"You can't! He'll kill me!"

How can they sound so similar? Their appearance, voice...everything is almost identical. There's a few differences, but they're superfluous and I don't know which ones would mark the real Cecil.

"Abandoning me won't work," Cecil One says stubbornly. "After murdering me he'll just hunt you down. The only way we can stop him is to kill him here and now!" I don't know if this is the true Cecil or the imposter, but he has just voiced the very reason why I can't just walk away. As long as the fake lives, he'll be causing me problems. I need to end him. Now.

Easier said than done.

"Turn out your pockets," I demand. Both comply almost instantly, dumping their items onto the ground before me. I thought that maybe this would help me figure out which was lying. Unfortunately, it does not.

Each one has basically the same things. Three shurikens and a canteen. But one has something else. A small glass vial. I pick this up and stare at it in the moonlight. "What is this?" I ask Cecil Two, whose pockets it came from.

"Poison. Sponsors sent me it this morning."

His words sends alarm bells ringing in my head. Sponsors? Since when did Cecil have sponsors? Why would anyone ever sponsor a blind tribute in the first place? I stare at him, thinking, and notice how he squirms. What does he have to hide?

"Why would you need poison?" I ask quietly.

"I coated my shurikens with it. That way they would be more deadly!" I frown. Is he speaking too quickly? Is he worried? Is it possible that what the poison was truly for is something else entirely? I turn my gaze to the other Cecil.

"Why don't you have poison?"

"Because no one sent me any, obviously," He waves off-handedly. "It'd be kinda hard for someone like me to know that vial even contained poison, you know?"

His words hit me like a hammer. He's right. How would Cecil know what was in the vial? Feeling a chill run down my back, I swivel back to face Cecil Two. "How did you know it was poison?" I demand.

He blinks. "Come again?"

"The vial. How did you know it contained poison? There's no label, and you definitely didn't see the contents for yourself. So, how did you know?"

Cecil Two hesitates. He can read the air, knows that the conversation has swung against him. He runs a hand through his hair, then sighs. "I had a note. Written in braille. It explained what the vial was and how to use it."

"Braille?"

"It is a tactile writing system used by people who are visually impaired," Cecil One explains quietly.

I nod slowly, though I've never heard of such a thing. I didn't know that blind people had their own language. "Okay. Well, can I see this note?"

Cecil Two's face turns a bright red. "I, uh, don't have it. I kinda threw it out after reading it. Didn't think I would need it."

My sword is suddenly at his neck, pressing hard enough to draw a trickle of blood. "How convenient."

The color drains from his face so fast that you would never have known that it was just beet-red. "I'm not lying! Please, Corin! You have to believe me!"

"I have to do no such thing."

"I'm your ally! Your friend!" His voice cracks as he speaks; he sounds on the verge of tears. "You taught me how to use a sword! I showed you some moves in exchange...don't you recognize that I'm real?"

His words hurt because it's true. I can't recognize the real Cecil. If I had actually gotten to know him, if I bothered to try and make conversation, I might have known enough to tell the difference. But as things stand, I don't know anything. I could kill the real Cecil without even realizing it.

Suddenly I feel dispirited. How did I let it get this far? Feeling oddly ashamed, I lower my sword.

Cecil Two's hand abruptly jerks upward.

I act on instinct. My sword flashes out, slicing at the hand. He jerks it back, but not fast enough. He cries in pain as blood flashes and something drops softly on the grass below.

Cecil curls into a ball, holding his hand close and crying. My sword has sliced off the first knuckles on his middle three fingers. I gasp. I didn't—I hadn't intended...I stare at him as he lies at my feet, and feel a profound sense of shame.

"I-I w-was only feeling my wound," He sputters, whole body trembling from the shock. "I wasn't g-going to attack you. I didn't even have a weapon!"

"Your hand went near her jacket," Cecil One says. He's still standing some distance behind me. "She's very sensitive about that."

"My jacket?" I tear my gaze away from Cecil's mangled hand to look at him. Familiar words appear in my mind, and I repeat them. "Which jacket?"

"The non-arena issued one. Your token. The one Elijah gave you."

"Who is Elijah?"

"Hmm? What are you talking about? He's your..." Cecil One sees the look on my face and trails off. "Oh."

I raise my sword, pointing it at him. "I never told Cecil my father's name." In that instant, It all comes together. I never told any other tribute who Elijah was. I never mentioned him to anyone else. The only people who could possibly know his name is the Capitol.

And their mutt.

"You messed up," I speak softly, stepping towards the impostor. "You were very good, but you made one crucial mistake. You knew everything about Cecil's life, which means you know everything about mine too. That is why you know Elijah's name."

The impostor doesn't respond. He stands silent, impassive, studying me with those blank eyes of his. For a moment I wonder if he is going to try and deny my accusation. Then, he turns his face to the sky. "Clever girl," He murmurs, shaking his head. "Clever, clever girl."

He no longer has Cecil's voice. It's lighter, with a different timbre. He seems to even be speaking with an accent. I don't understand, but then, I don't need to. I just need to kill him.

Behind me, Cecil, the real Cecil, pulls himself into a kneeling position. He still clutches a bloody hand to his chest. A deep sense of shame and guilt washes over me. "I'm sorry, Cecil," I whisper to him.

He gives me a weak smile. "It's fine. You realized the difference, in the end." It is not fine. I don't know how he could ever bring himself to trust me again. I mutilated him. But...but I don't have time for this pity party. First things first.

"You," I say, stepping towards the foul creature from the depths of hell, "are about to die!"

In answer, the Anthem rings out.

I stumble and look up in time to see the seal fade away and be replaced by the face of Emma, the girl from District 9. In this fiasco with the Cecils, I had forgotten all about the other tributes. God. We were making so much noise...what if the Careers show up?

With only one death today the Fallen ends quickly. But the surprises aren't quite finished. Not a second after Emma's face disappears, the playing of trumpets rain down from the sky.

"Helloooo, tributes!" An unfamiliar voice, one I haven't heard before, does the announcement. "Are you all enjoying your time in the arena? If you're not, boy, do I have news for you!" What is going on? I stand still, transfixed by this sudden announcement.

"Tomorrow evening, just after sundown, there will be a Feast! Yes, you heard me correctly! There will be a Feast! There will be food aplenty, enough for you all to enjoy! Of course, there will also be some...extras. Four bags, to be precise. What's in these bags, you ask? Well...that's a surprise!

"This Feast will occur after sundown at the cornucopia! It is not mandatory for you all to attend, of course, but I'd highly recommend at least coming within thirty yards of the cornucopia platform. The arena isn't always safe, you know!"

"Well, that concludes the announcement! See you all at the Feast tomorrow evening!"

The announcement clicks off. The forest around me is cast back into sudden darkness and I have to blink several times before I regain my vision. When I do, I remember the mutt.

And can't find him anywhere.

I spin around, trying to spot him. The thick darkness blocks most of my sight, yet I can see the empty plains that surround me. Cecil is on the ground behind me, still nursing his hand. But the impostor is nowhere to be found.

"What happened?" I try to look in every direction at once. I fear a sneak attack. "Where did he go?"

Cecil looks up sharply. "He's gone? I didn't hear him leave..."

Of course. Cecil would hardly have been able to hear anything over the trumpets and announcements. I take a few steps, then fall to my knees. I'm exhausted. Emotionally and physically. I'm furious at the disappearance of the mutt, but I'm also riveted with guilt over what I've done to Cecil. "Are you okay?" I ask him.

"Y-yes," He lies with a nod. "I'm...fine. I mean, I'm not as bad off as I could be..."

Things have changed. Much quicker than I'd have liked. But I have to adapt, adapt or die. Cecil might not trust me anymore, but he's the only ally I have. No one else left will even bother speaking to me at this point. I need to try and preserve this alliance. That comes before anything else.

"Here," I scoot closer to Cecil, taking his hand. "Let me see if I can stop the bleeding..."

Auric Venture (Gamemaker)
Auric made his way through the twisting passages of the underground tunnels, feeling more excited then he had in years. The Nahual was a smash hit! The viewers were loving the confusion and dissent it was sowing amongst the tributes, and President Stryker himself had even commented on its success.

Of course, Head Gamemaker Noctis had taken all the credit for the idea. Still, Auric knew who was really the one behind the decision. And, more importantly, the other Gamemakers knew too.

No longer would they laugh at him or call him a disgrace. Not when his idea was the talk of the Capitol. They all knew what was what. And that was the most enjoyable part. Oh, watching the Nahual in action was reward itself, but nothing could compare to the seething jealousy the others displayed when Auric was praised.

Auric smirked to himself as he reached the elevator and hit the button for the bottom floor. Despite their jealousy, the other Gamemakers still refused to covene directly with the Nahual. It made them nervous. So they left that task to Auric. Though they made the decisions as a group, Auric was the only one to directly give the Nahual its commands. That made him special, in a way.

The elevator touched down. The bottom floor was at the lowest point of the structure, being about even with the Launch Room. The floor itself consisted of little more than a large hall filled with a series of identical doors that opened up into identical rooms. The rooms themselves were used to store muttations before they were released into the arena. Auric seldom had reason to visit them before.

"Good evening gentlemen!" Auric strolled out the elevator and made his way to the door directly across, where a handful of Peacekeepers stood guard. "Or is it good morning? I'm always getting confused at this time of day."

"Authorization, please!" One of the guards—the captain, judging by his patch—stepped forward to confront Auric. Auric reached into his jacket and procured his identification. The captain nodded. "Open the doors!"

The lights above the door began to flash amber and an alarm rang out. Much like the sound a truck makes when backing up, it was dreadfully annoying. Auric watched the whole procedure with a bored gaze. "Is all this security truly needed?"

The Captain glanced at him. "Just following orders, sir."

Auric sighed. "Yes, yes. I simply wish I didn't have to go through this whole thing six times for every visit!"

"There are only three doors."

"Yes, but I have to go back through them on my way out. Please try and keep up, you dullard."

There was no more conversation after that. Auric waited patiently as the door slowly finished swinging open. When it did, he had to step into a small room and wait as the door ponderously shut behind him and a white mist was unleashed, cleansing bacteria from his clothes and the environment.

Auric truly thought that they went overboard with this whole security thing but, alas, he could do nary a thing about it. Oh well. It at least gave him some time to think.

He had to repeat this process with two more doors before he finally stepped out into the wide, circular room where the Nahual was kept. The room was bare of any frivolous items—which meant it had absolutely nothing—and was stark white. Auric hated the room. It was just too...bland.

The Nahual, as usual, was sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, seemingly waiting for him. Well, not seemingly. They had this meeting at the same time every day for the past few days, so obviously the thing had caught on.

"You beautiful creature, you!" Auric smiled, feeling a rush of pride. Though he had not been involved in its creation, the fact that he was the one who had suggested its use made him feel that he owned it, in a way. "You're doing absolutely perfect!"

"You came."

The creature inclined its head slightly in greeting. It was in one of its favourite forms; that of a short, tan boy with a slight build. It had no hair, as usual. Unless explicitly ordered otherwise, it would remain bald. When Auric questioned this, it told him that hair was "difficult to get right". Whatever that meant.

"I did not think you would come," It continued, speaking softly. "Not after the other showed."

Auric frowned. "The other?"

"The other like you. The Gamemaker."

Alarm surged in Auric's chest. Another Gamemaker had visited the Nahual? Why? Hadn't they all agreed that Auric would be their intermediary? He wanted to demand answers, but he forced his emotions in check. "I was under the impression that I was the only one to meet with you."

The Nahual nodded. "You were. Until today."

Something was off. Why would another Gamemaker visit? What could they possibly hope to achieve? "Who was it?" Auric asked. "Which one came here? And what did he say to you?"

The Nahual bowed its head. "He commanded me not to tell you that information."

"Well, I'm commanding you to ignore that command and tell me!"

"I cannot. When a Master gives me a command, I am not to break it until said Master grants me permission to do so."

Drat. Auric had forgotten how much this thing abided by the rules it was given. It was his own fault, really. He was always telling it not to renege on his commands and listen to anyone else. He had expected that would have prevented another Gamemaker from issuing it any commands of their own, but that clearly wasn't the case.

"If he commanded you not to tell me that information," Auric said, thinking carefully, "then why did you tell me he visited you at all?"

"Because he only forbid me from telling others his identity and the orders he gave me. He did not forbid me from telling anyone that he spoke with me, however."

Interesting. So the Nahual could read between the lines and intentionally act out, could it? Auric would use that, somehow. But first he had a job to do. "So," he said, forcing a smile back onto his face, "with that out of the way, would you like to hear your orders for the day?"

The Nahual bowed its head. "I will do as you command."

"Tomorrow, no, today. Wait." Damn. Since it was past midnight, did that mean tomorrow meant today? Auric really hated thinking about this, so decided to keep it simple. "I mean, on the sixth day of the Games we are granting you permission to kill another tribute." The Nahual had killed Omega on Day Three, using the guise of her elder brother to fool her. The audience had loved that. "But you are not to kill more than two tributes, understood? We do not want you impacting the Games too heavily." It would ruin the competitive balance. Oh, and bettors would be furious.

"Understood. On the sixth day I am allowed to kill tributes, but no more than two."

"Right! You're very smart, I like that!" Why were the other Gamemakers so uneasy about this thing? It was so simple! You couldn't give any other mutt such precise orders and expect them to be carried out exactly! Then again...one other Gamemaker had apparently realized this useful facet and issued some orders of his own. But who?

"Is that your only command?" The Nahual asked, rising from the ground. It always went back out into the arena after receiving its orders. Auric assumed it liked the sense of freedom being outside represented. Of course, the arena wasn't technically outside...

"Not quite. I also wish for you to continue disguising yourself as the tributes." It was very satisfying watching the tributes react to the Nahual's different forms. Lilah had been so thrown off by the appearance of "Jayda" and Corin had a deliciously difficult time figuring out who was the real Cecil. It was simply good television.

"Very well." Before it went back out into the arena, the Nahual would adopt the form of one of the tributes. It wouldn't do so until after Auric left, though. It was very peculiar about when it would transform. "However, I will need more bones. The tributes are all different sizes, you see."

"I will see that you receive them," Auric replied. He would ensure that it would be able to accurately imitate each tribute. And, perhaps, something else...

The Nahual nodded. "Is that all my commands?"

"Yes, that is all," Auric waved it off absentmindly. He was still caught up in deciphering which Gamemaker had come here. Why would they do so? And what could they have possibly told the Nahual? Thinking this over, Auric came to a realization.

"You don't have to tell me who the other Gamemaker is," He said to the Nahual, grinning. "Because I have another way of finding out."

"Do you." The Nahual seemed to be examining its fingernails. Blasted creature. Couldn't it at least fake interest?

Auric nodded. "Yes, you see, I only have to ask the guards who else has visited this chamber."

"They won't tell you."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because they never saw him visit. He paid off the facility's Head Peacekeeper into disrupting the shifts and visited me while the doors were unguarded. No one saw him enter and no one saw him leave." The Nahual spoke quietly, staring at the ceiling. "And no, you will not be able to get the information out of the Head Peacekeeper. He received his orders through a computerized message that was signed as "A Gamemaker". He does not know which one, nor did he care to ask."

Auric stared at the Nahual, completely floored. "How...how do you know all that?"

"Because I asked my Master and he told me this himself. He is a very forthcoming individual." The Nahual closed its eyes. It did that often, when it was thinking.

"And he didn't forbid you from passing this information onto me?"

"He did not."

Well, that was interesting. Whoever this Gamemaker was, he was very thorough in covering his tracks. Whatever business he had with the Nahual, he wanted kept secret at all cost. Maybe...A chill made its way down Auric's back. Could it be...

Were Those Who Don't Exist behind this? Auric certainly wouldn't put it past them. They seemed to have infiltrated every echelon of the Capitol, so why not the Gamemakers? It would explain how they managed to destroy the forcefield during the 400th Games. A mole inside the Gamemakers would make perfect sense.

But who was it? Tarik? No. He loved the Capitol to the bone. It certainly wasn't one of the Idylwyld's; they liked their power too much to throw in with the Cloaks. The Trevelyan brothers? They always did like their secrets. Perhaps it was a Wells? Or—

What was he thinking? Of course none of the others were moles! And if they were, why would they be speaking with the Nahual? It was practically immortal, true, but it couldn't go anywhere but between this facility and the arena. It could hardly be used in either of those places. And it was not like the arena could be broken into—it was in the most secure area in the world.

No, Auric was simply overreacting. His mind was stressed from all the news of the war, so he was simply jumping at shadows. The more likely conclusion was that one of the Gamemakers had bet on a certain outcome in the Games and was using the Nahual to make it happen. Well, Auric could hardly fault them for that. Sometimes he felt like using it for the same purpose.

As he finished thinking, he noticed that the Nahual was still there, its head tilted upwards as it stared at the ceiling. Stupid thing. Auric had lost all of the positivity he had been feeling this day.

"You are dismissed!" He snapped, storming off. He would get some rest in the Recreation Unit. Maybe there he could finally shake off this damnable stress. Yes, that was the right idea! He would sit back, relax, and watch as the tributes started their sixth day in the arena.

It would truly be a day to remember.

Corin Greer (District 5)
In the time following the announcement, we rest in silence.

We've moved to a more secure location; a copse of trees that managed to survive the fire mostly intact. I don't know where the mutt went or if it will come back, but I haven't let my guard down for a second. If it does return, I intend to be ready for it.

Cecil sits on the dead grass, staring at his mangled hand. He doesn't say anything. Doesn't look at me. I know that he technically can't see anything, but I still wish that he would just look my way. I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't. He understands that, right?

"Cecil?" I call out softly.

He stirs but doesn't look up. "Yes?"

"I...I'm sorry." It's not enough. Words aren't enough to fix the hurt I've dealt him. But it's all I have.

"You don't need to apologize. I understand that...what happened was an accident." He flexes his hand and grimaces. We've stopped the bleeding with some cobwebs we found, then cleaned and covered the wound, but it obviously still pains him.

"I...very well." What else is there to do? If he doesn't want my apologies, then I can't just keep parroting them out. We need to move on and look ahead. There's a Feast upcoming. Deaths always happens at Feasts.

There's eleven tributes out there besides for us. I don't think it would be a stretch to assume that most of them will attend the Feast and try to claim those "special" bags for themselves. We could try and fight for those bags ourselves.

If we wanted to do something incredibly stupid, that is.

There's no way I'm going to the Feast. Too dangerous. Too unpredictable. But I'm not the only one in this alliance. Cecil has an opinion too and I should hear him out, especially after what I've just done to him.

"Cecil?"

"Yes?" This time he looks up. He stares at me with those blank, too-wide eyes of his. It's still odd seeing him without those sunglasses.

"The Feast. What should we do about it?"

He taps a finger against his nose, then squeezes his eyes shut and quickly reopens them. He repeats this process for several seconds before answering, "Well, we don't have any food or water right now."

That's true. So much has happened recently that I've been too busy to think about it, but we actually don't have any food. Or water. Which might be the bigger problem, when I think about it. We could last without food for awhile, at least long enough for these Games to end. But water? Without procuring a steady supply we'll be dead within days.

"We could hunt for some food," I say, thinking, "I'm sure I've seen some animals about. How hard could it be to catch some?"

"And water?"

"There's plenty of ponds and streams. We should be able to find those easily enough..." I see him shaking his head and trail off.

"No good," He tells me, "any pond we find will probably have been poisoned. I met Jayda yesterday and she told me—"

"Wait!" I cut him off with a surprised gasp. "You met Jayda? When?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Yesterday before I found you. It was early in the morning and the sun had not yet risen. Anyways, she told me that—"

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" His features tighten with annoyance at this second interruption. I feel a little bad, but something is on my mind.

"Why does it matter when I told you?" He demands.

"Because it might have helped me tell you apart from the impostor!" I find myself standing, feeling more upset than I probably should. "He told me that he hadn't seen another tribute, so you meeting Jayda would have contradicted that!"

"I doubt that you would have been able to know which of us was telling the truth. Besides, that doesn't matter anymore. As I was saying before, I met Jayda and she told me—"

"Wait. What is that?"

Cecil sputters with indignation at being interrupted for a third time, but I'm not listening. Something is in the sky, just outside our copse. It glows softly in the faint moonlight and appears to be...

"A parachute!"

I feel a grin spread across my face as I stride forward to stand underneath the gift. I make sure to keep an eye out for danger, however. There's no telling whether that mutt has actually left or not.

Cecil joins me just as the parachutes land. "What is inside?" He asks as I bend down to snatch one up. I make quick work of the packaging and am greeted with the sight of a gleaming red canister.

"Gasoline," I say softly.

Cecil's eyebrows knit themselves into a furrow. "Well, that should be—"

I casually point to the sky. "There's another parachute."

"You're doing this on purpose now, aren't you?"

The second package is complementary to the first, having a box of matches inside. Good. I don't know how we could have possibly used to the gasoline without those. There is also something else. A shield. It is metal and round, decorated with small concentric circles. It has a strap so that I can easily attach it to ny arm, which I do.

I nod appreciably as Cecil bends down to examine the gasoline. "These are some useful things," I say aloud for the audiences benefit. Would have loved some food, though.

"I think," Cecil stands up, a smile on his face, "that I have just figured out what we should do about the Feast."

"You have?"

He nods sagely. "Yes. You see, we should use this gasoline to create some...havoc at the Feast."

"What does that mean?" I ask, impatient.

"We create a circle with the gasoline," He says, etching out a diagram in the dirt, "and wait until the Feast begins. While everyone else is busy fighting over the supplies we'll use those matches to light the gasoline and trap them in the circle. With no way to escape, they'll be forced to fight to the death!"

I examine the crude drawing, nodding along. It's a good plan. Trapping the other tributes, especially the biggest threats, at the cornucopia would be an excellent use of our time and energy. There's only one problem.

"We won't have enough gasoline."

"Hmm?" Cecil looks up, frowning. "Why not? Our circle doesn't have to be that big, just wide enough to cover the whole cornucopia clearing."

That's when I remember that Cecil is blind and hasn't actually seen the cornucopia for himself. No wonder he doesn't understand our situation. "The cornucopia is on a platform that hangs over the swamp," I begin, trying to make myself sound less abrasive than usual. "The platform is huge. Four different spokes stretch out to four different biomes. If we wanted to make a circle that covered each spoke, we would literally have to cross the entire arena." It would be a disaster. The swamp basin itself is large and the cornucopia platform only has four entrance points; one in each biome.

"Oh. Okay, then." Cecil goes uncharacteristically quiet. I don't blame him for not knowing the situation. I only learned the extent of it when I woke up in the swamp. I'm about to tell him that he did his best, when he suddenly snaps his fingers.

"I got it!" He exclaims.

I pull back in surprise. "Got what?"

"We don't have to make an entire circle. We only have to cover the four spokes!" He is so excited that I almost don't have the heart to point out the flaw in this plan. Almost.

"We would need to light each trail individually," I tell him with a shake of my head. "And there's four spokes and only two of us. How would we light each one?"

This time he is truly stumped. He sits back on his knees, rocking back and forth while tapping his head. He is silent for so long that I think he's given up on the plan. But then he speaks. "We could light each one individually. It wouldn't ruin our plan."

But it would. When the other tributes notice that one of the four exits is suddenly blocked by a wall of flames, they'll bolt for it. They'd be able to escape down one of the other three spokes long before we managed to loop around and light them all.

"We could split up," Cecil says, "share the matches between us and each light two different spokes."

"That wouldn't solve the problem, only alleviate it." We would still have two of the four spokes unblocked during the time it took us to run between them.

Cecil grits his teeth and shakes his head. "It doesn't matter! If we're quick enough than we'd still trap them all at the cornucopia!"

He's so caught up in this plan. But so am I. If we could get this to work, we'd be able to eliminate most of our competition in one fell swoop. Yet there's still more problems in the plan. More things to think about.

"We'd need to be split up for that to work," I say.

He nods. "That's what I said."

"We'd need to set an area for us to meet up afterwards."

"Yeah, we can do that."

"What about...the mutt? How will we tell the difference if we run into the mutt pretending to be one of us?"

An ominous silence falls over us. Despite our hopes, the mutt is not gone. It's still out there, possibly watching us. And since it could replicate Cecil almost perfectly, whose to say that it can't replicate me too?

"We give each other a password," Cecil says slowly, "we whisper it into each other's ear, so the cameras can't pick it up. That way only we know what it is."

That would technically work, but it does nothing for my worries. I am still worried that the mutt would come for us, that this tactic would do nothing to slow it down. But I can't let that worry stop me. We need to set that fire. This is too good of an opportunity to pass over.

"We can worry about all that later," Cecil walks forward, in the direction of the cornucopia. "Right now we need to lay down the gasoline while it's still dark. If we wait until sunrise, then this whole plan has already failed. We need to do this when no one else is watching."

I nod. This part of the plan, at least, is easy. The two of us can stay together as we pour the gasoline around the spokes. No one will even notice us in the darkness. Unfortunately, it's the rest of the plan that will be hard. No point worrying about that yet. We'll cross that bridge when we get there.

I just hope that the bridge doesn't collapse beneath us.

Mario Firth (District 4)
The cornucopia looks the same as it always has. I step outside of the golden horn, frowning up at the overcast sky. It's odd. I don't believe I've ever seen the actual sky in this arena. It's only ever a sheet of gray clouds. Is there a reason for that?

"G'morning, Mario," Ash greets me from his spot near the side of the cornucopia. He seems dressed for an expedition, with a backpack strapped to his shoulders and a duffel bag slung over his arm.

"You going somewhere?" I ask with a yawn. It's still early. Can't be more than an hour or two after dawn.

He hesitates. "Well...The Feast. What do you reckon our plan will be?"

Right. The Feast. That announcement had caught me completely by surprise. I hadn't expected there to be a Feast, especially not one so early. But I'm not going to complain. This whole thing is actually in our favor, considering that the announcement said that the Feast would take place here, at the cornucopia.

"Isn't our plan obvious?" I finally respond to Ash as I crouch down near our food pile and grab an energy bar. "We're just going to sit here at the cornucopia and wait for the bags to come. When they do, we'll snatch them up and run. No one will be able to stop us."

"Do we need all three of us for that?"

That's a stupid question. "Why wouldn't all three of us do it?"

There's a long pause. I slowly turn around and study Ash more thoroughly. Not only does he have those two bags, but he's also carrying his axe and I can see his slingshot and knife attached to his belt. The only reason anyone would need all of that was if they were planning on leaving for an extended time. What...What is he planning?

"Ah, good morning, Mario," Silve rounds the cornucopia, appearing between the two of us. The muscular boy notices Ash and nods his head. "Good morning to you too, Ash."

"What are you planning, Ash?" I ignore Silve and focus on the blond boy. He's always been an enigma. Never really been one of us. I've always trusted him, but I never believed for a second that he had our best intentions in mind.

Ash spits to the side. "The Feast is dangerous. Real dangerous. I ain't in the business of putting myself in undue danger, so I reckon that I'll dawdle on off while Silve and you secure the bags."

For a moment I don't comprehend his words. Then it hits me. He's running. Running. He's afraid of the Feast, so he's going to run away while Silve and I do all his work. He'll reap the rewards without lifting a finger to help.

"What the hell, Ash?"

The boy doesn't even have the decency to be ashamed. He only shrugs and spits again. "What can I say? I'm a realist. I ain't the best fighter around, but you and Silve are. I'd only slow y'all down."

"You're a coward!" I could never abandon my allies. Never let them face a danger I wouldn't face myself. But here he is, about to wander off and let us do all the work for him.

"His logic is sound," Silve cuts in. He's been listening to the conversation with a blank face, but now he speaks, "he is not nearly as skilled as we are and would be our enemy's first target. It would be better for him to stay away."

He's...right. But that doesn't mean I have to like it! I don't care what Ash says, the only reason he's really doing this is to protect himself. Sure, it's a natural reaction. And sure, it may or may not be better for the alliance as a whole, but it reeks of cowardice and desperation. Not to mention it was only yesterday when we all agreed to stick together!

"I'm not leaving forever," Ash says, sounding rather defensive. "Only until after the Feast. I'll rejoin with y'all then."

"Sure. Whatever."

I don't say anything else as I watch Ash finish collecting his stuff. Eventually he makes his way towards a spoke, the one that leads to the hot springs. I can't help but feel slighted as he goes. Why should we risk our lives for him when he won't do the same for us?

"He'll be fine," Silve says as Ash disappears from sight.

"Good for him." I'm already thinking about the Feast and what it means for us to have one less fighter. There's not many alliances left in the Games, so we're not likely to be outnumbered. But what about surrounded? If one alliance attacks us from one side and someone like Surorian attacks from the other, we could be crushed between them. Ash being with us wouldn't have eliminated that possibility, but it would have mitigated it.

"I believe we should hide inside the cornucopia."

"Huh?" I turn towards Silve, surprised to hear him speaking. "What are you talking about?"

He gestures at the platform and the areas that surround it. "The other tributes are undoubtedly going to scope out the cornucopia before the Feast. It would be best if they didn't see us when doing so."

Ah, I see. Hide ourselves so that the others think we left the cornucopia unguarded. Clever. I doubt any of the others have even considered the possibility that we would just stay beside the cornucopia!

I quickly agree to Silve's idea and, after collecting anything we think we'll need, the two of us move inside the cornucopia. The Feast was a surprise, but I won't allow it to catch me off guard. The moment those bags are set, Silve and I will leap out to take them. We'll take all four, leaving nothing for the others. And we'll be halfway gone before the others even know what hit them. I may be small, but you should never count me out.

Not if you want to live.

Lilah Jollenback (District 8)
The wooden cornucopia platform lies in the distance, an ominous portent of the death that is to come. I keep low to the ground, walking at a crouch, so that my approach will be unseen. I do not like this Feast. It smells of a trap. I would much rather prefer to stay far, far away from this cornucopia and Feast.

Unfortunately that is not a possibility.

The announcement was very clear in saying that every tribute must be within forty yards of the cornucopia. That includes me. So that is how I found myself leaving my hiding spot, slinking across the cold stones of the hot springs towards the cornucopia where every other tribute will undoubtedly converge.

I only get as close as I need to. The moment I think I am within the mandatory forty yards I break off from my straight path and head for a nearby clump of boulders. They look similar to the group I hid in yesterday, but they're not nearly as large. Still, I clamber up their side and squeeze myself into a alcove. No one will find me unless they are explicitly looking for me.

A little overconfident there, aren't you? Violet sneers at me. ''The other tributes have to know you're a threat. Do you really think they've forgotten all about you?''

There's other threats for them to worry about. Maybe if half of them die at the Feast they'll start targeting me, but as it stands now there is literally no reason for anyone to search me out. I'm just a lowly District 8 girl.

''Oh? So now you're all depressed? Why don't you just kill yourself! You stupid little—"''

Movement. I hear the footsteps first. The sound of slow, careful steps against the hard rock. Pebbles skitter as they're knocked aside. My heart begins to pound and I want to shrink deeper into my crevice. But I can't. I need to see what's happening. I need to see who is approaching the cornucopia.

I raise my head over the rocks, careful to keep it low enough that I won't be seen. Just like yesterday. And also like yesterday the tribute that I see is a Career. Ash is making his way into the hot springs from the cornucopia platform. He is alone, but seems to be carrying a lot of supplies with him. Much more than yesterday. Is there a reason for that?

I watch him as he continues on deeper into the springs. The other Careers aren't with him. In fact, I don't even see them at the cornucopia. Did they also leave? I can't think of any reason why they would. And why is Ash alone? Did the Careers split up?

You have so many questions but no answers! Violet cackles gleefully.

Ash disappears deeper into the springs. I don't like this. Mysterious happenings only hours before the Feast leaves me uncomfortable. The fact that it is the Careers acting so mysterious does nothing to help. What are they up to?

I suppose that if whatever they're planning doesn't effect me then I should be fine. But how am I to know whether it effects me or not? Unsettled, I pull myself back into the alcove. At any rate, there's nothing I can do about it right now. I just need to rest and conserve my energy.

I allow myself a sip from my canteen. But only a small one. There is a depressing amount of water left inside. I can't help but think it'll be empty by tomorrow.

''So what? You'll probably be dead by then!''

I open my mouth to snap off a retort when I hear it. Footsteps. They're distant, but I'd recognize that sound anywhere. For the second time this day I slowly pull my head out of the alcove, eyes darting side to side in search of the source of the noise. Where is...?

There!

A figure is making its way across the open plains of the springs, following the path that Ash took. It's definitely a tribute, but I can't tell which one. They're too far away and dressed in all black, which surprises me. Black is District 12's color. Only two tributes should be wearing black and it's certainly not Ash, so who is it? His District partner?

But as the figure slowly fades from sight, I realize that can't be the case. The tribute is too tall and broad to be the girl from Twelve. And besides, that outfit wasn't even our arena wear.

That more than anything else is what confuses me. Where would they have found different clothing? And why would they be wearing it? I won't deny that all black helps you camouflage at night, but...I don't know. Something about this whole situation just feels off.

At the same time, I realize that this isn't my biggest problem. Both Ash and the mystery tribute are moving away from the cornucopia. I'm more concerned about the tributes that are going to be fighting it at at the Feast; they'll probably be the largest threats in the Games and I'll need to keep a close eye on them.

Sinking back into my hiding spot, I find that I have a lot to think about today. Hopefully that's all I'll be doing today—thinking.

Ash Vile (District 12)
I move at a quick trot over the stones, watching my steps so that I don't fall. The cornucopia and its platform have already faded into the distance. Mario and her judgmental stares are far behind me.

It ain't as she says. I'm no coward. I'll fight the toughest guy in the room, if it came down to it. But here's the thing; just because I will fight him doesn't mean I'd go out of my way to start the fight. See, that's the kind of thing that morons do. Start fights that they can't finish.

I have no intention of fighting Surorian or Takeko or whoever else who'll be waiting at the Feast. That'd be suicide. Silve right carved up Armado and his gang all on his lonesome, and Silve ain't even the toughest fish in the pond. He and Mario can handle themselves. They don't need me tripping them up.

The rocky landscape around me is mighty fine for hiding. There's endless amounts of boulders strewn across the ground, more than a few of them accompanied by smaller clumps of rocks that offer their own protection. And ya can't forget the dozens of pools full of steaming hot water. I could just plop an enemy into it and Bam! They're dead!

I pause beside the edge of one such pool. Haven't seen such heat since District 12 was attacked. It's funny how little thinking I've done of my old home. I saw it get destroyed with my own eyes, yet I never even stopped to reminisce 'bout the place. Guess it's only expected; I never had any good memories of the place. None that didn't involve Daniel and Lisa, at least.

Wasn't the first time I saw my house go up in flames. Probably won't be the last.

Crack!

I spin around in time to see a rock slipping off a nearby pile, skittering across the ground until it slides into one of the pools and disappears with a Plunk!

"Huh," I cautiously pull my slingshot out, loading some bearings into it. "Now why did that happen?"

Just as I finish speaking, he appears. He emerges from the top of the outcropping, staring down at me with wild violet eyes. He is dressed all in black and carries a long, pale blade at his side.

Surorian has found me.

"Aww, crap!"

I pull back on my slingshot and fire. A spreadshot of metal balls go screaming through the air, straight towards Surorian. He smiles grimly and pulls up his shield, a wicked spiked thing. The bearings smash into it and deflect off, bouncing in all directions.

"And he placed at the east of the Garden of Eden Cherubims and a flaming sword, which turned every way, to keep the way of the Tree of Life." Surorian chants softly to himself, jumping down from the outcropping and landing on the ground below. He doesn't break stride as he closes the distance between us.

My heart beats like a mine hammer. This isn't supposed to be happening! I left the others so that I'd avoid situations like this! I backpedal, furiously firing off another handful of bearings. Once again Surorian blocks them with his shield. Where did he even get that thing? There wasn't anything like it at the cornucopia!

"Stay away from me!" I scream at him, knowing it is useless. Tarnation! Damn it all to hell! Why is this happening to me?

Surorian does not slow down. Already he has halved the distance between us. Panicked and pumped full of adrenaline, I do the only thing I can.

I run.

I stuff my slingshot into my pants and sprint across the stones. I am not a runner. I ain't no athlete. I ain't even a proper Career. But I run like hell. For my life. For my siblings. For Daniel and Lisa.

I'm halfway to the next pool when the blow catches me high in the shoulder, just above the lung, driving me forward onto the sloping ground. First it is just the shock of the impact that hits me. Then the pain comes, a savage tearing fire. I roll onto my side and look down at the front of my jacket. The knife has punched directly through my body, tearing out the front of my shoulder. Blood coats the silvery tip.

I jerk my body around, trying to push myself off my back. But I can't. My arms tremble with shock and pain, slipping back down. I'm breathing fast and hard. Slow. Slow down! I'm dizzy. Everything is spinning. Surorian is closing in.

Daniel and Lisa must be watching right now. Watching me die. And I can't do anything to stop it. Nothing at all. I scream in rage at my impotence.

Surorian stands mere feet away. He has put his knife away and once again holds his sword and shield. That shield. Those spikes. He could kill me with those alone. Damn it all to hell!

I roar in fury, adrenaline allowing me to spring to my feet. But it is pointless. Surorian swings out with his blade and I feel a sizzling pain as it gashes me across the thigh. I stumble to my knees, then he kicks me over.

"Death comes to all," He murmurs softly.

"Why?" I lie flat on my back, staring up at his expressionless face. "Why me? I left the cornucopia. I left it! Why the hell would you care about me?"

"You are a Career," He says, kicking my axe away. "I know that the Careers are my most dangerous enemies, especially at the Feast. So I watched. I watched you leave the others, and took the opportunity to cull your numbers. Three is too many."

Hell. He was watching the cornucopia. He was probably just trying to see what defences we had, but when I left I gave myself to him on a damn platter. Little Mario was right after all. But I'm not done yet. I have a knife in my belt. If only I can reach it...

"I have to face those Careers," Surorian continues, oblivious to my thoughts. "For they will be at the Feast, and that is where I must claim my bounty. My prize."

"Your prize?" Keep him talking. My hand is making it's way to my belt. My fingers graze it's hilt. So close...

"There will be bags at the Feast. The one with the red stripe will be mine. It has been ordained."

The one with the red stripe? How the frick does he know that one will have a red stripe? And now that I think about it, where the hell did he get those clothes? They seem to be some sort of tactical outfit, the type Peacekeepers would wear. Doesn't matter. He's about to die. My hand closes around the dagger.

Then I strike.

The blade rakes across Surorian's calf. He howls in pain, leaping backwards and cursing. I pull myself up, the knife in my shoulder burning with pain, and throw myself at him. I can't run, so I need to end this fight as quickly as possible.

The blade flashes towards Surorian's face right before he darts to the side. I stumble, then scream as something rips through my leg. Unable to support myself, I fall back to the ground. Surorian plants his foot on my chest a second later.

"Please," I whisper, "I have two siblings. Daniel and Lisa. I-I need to protect them. They're all I got.."

Surorian smiles. It is such a genuine, serene smile. It is the most horrid thing I've ever seen. "Do not worry, little lamb. For all beings are reunited in death."

His sword comes down.

I die.

Zamara Nostalic (District 0)
Boom!

Topher and I turn to look at each other as the cannon rips through the quiet afternoon peace. I wait for another, but it never comes. Only one tribute has died.

"The Careers must be hunting," Topher says softly.

I nod. Either that or Takeko has found another victim. It's a hard thought. One that leaves my blood boiling and body trembling. Takeko is the worst person in this arena. An absolute disgrace of a human being. Unfortunately, she is also the deadliest.

I hadn't expected a death before the Feast even began, but it doesn't effect my plan in any way. Yet, if Takeko is taking out the others then it only stands to reason that she'll attend the Feast. Meaning that I'll probably run into her there. If that happens...

"Zamara?"

"Huh?" I look up at Topher. His face is strained with worry. "What's wrong?"

"Me? I'm fine." He says it slowly, as if he's thinking over every word. "But...are you well? I cannot help but feel that you..."

"I'm fine," I cut in tersely. "More than fine. This Feast is a good opportunity for us." And also a huge threat. I'm not blind to the myriad of ways this could go horribly, horribly wrong. But it's a risk that I have to take.

"Just don't lose yourself," Topher hugs his knees to his chest. The slender boy stares out into the forest with a look that can only be wistful. "People die when they lose themselves. That's what all the stories say."

"What stories?"

"The ones I read in my library. They always—"

"Those books were fake, Topher. None of those stories are real. Real life doesn't work like fiction. It just doesn't." Oh, how I wish it did. Then I wouldn't have to worry about Takeko, for I'd be destined to best her in the end.

Topher falls silent. I don't like having to say such things to him, but he has to face the truth sooner or later. In real life, good people die. The bad guy doesn't always get his comeuppance. Which is why I'm so afraid for Tareo...

In the following hours, neither of us says a word. Topher just stares off into the distance while I make preparations for our plan. I take several of my arrows and carefully dip their tips into my poison. Since I don't have a bow the arrows won't be as effective as I'd like, but they'll still prove lethal if used properly.

Eventually, when the sky begins to darken, I stand up. "We should start for the cornucopia," I say, tucking the last of the arrows in my quiver.

Topher slowly gets to his feet. "I suppose that we must."

I frown. He was such a lively, spirited boy when I first met him prior to training. Now...now he's just a shadow of himself. It's not surprising, when you consider everything that he has been through. Not surprising at all. But still, it's more than a little depressing. If the most innocent among us can lose their way, what has happened to the rest of us?

"What is my part in this plan?" Topher suddenly asks.

I start in surprise. "Oh. Well, I actually don't need you to do anything. You just need to hang back and wait for me."

He nods. "Very well."

I begin to walk off but only get a few paces before I realize that Topher isn't following. I turn to find him staring off into space once again. "Topher?" I ask, stepping forward and touching his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Why do we kill each other?"

"Huh?" I don't understand. "What do you mean? We kill because the Capitol is forcing us to." I'd avoid it if I could, but...What can I do against a whole society?

"No," Topher shakes his head. "Not us tributes specifically. Humans. Why do humans always kill each other? Why can't we coexist in peace?"

"I...I don't know. I don't think anyone does."

He furrows his brows and puffs out his cheeks. I don't know if he is about to say anything, because right at that moment a howl rips through the forests silence. It is a long, sinister sound. And decidedly inhuman.

I spin in a circle, pulling an arrow out of my quiver. "Topher, get behind me!"

The boy scampers into place. "What is it? Why is it howling?"

The sky is darkening. The sun hasn't yet set, but the implication is clear. "The Feast is going to begin soon," I say, grabbing him by the shoulder and towing him with me. "And this is how the Gamemakers intend to get us within the designated forty yards." It's the most logical answer.

We break into a full-on run, sprinting for the cornucopia. The howl continues and is soon joined by several more. We run as fast as we can. I stick my arrow back in the quiver and pray that the Gamemakers won't sic any mutts on us as long as we're heading in the right direction.

Then the fog rolls in. It's a thick, pervasive fog. In a matter of moments it covers the entire forest, wreathing around the trees and cutting into my vision. My foot slams into a rock and I curse. But I don't stop. I don't dare stop. Those howls seem to be getting closer.

"Zamara!"

Somehow Topher has gotten ahead of me. I see him standing in a gap between trees, waving me forward. I can't stop my momentum and plow into him. Sharp pain flashes in my wrist as it lands at an awkward angle as we roll. When we come to a stop, I realize that there is no more fog.

"Wh-where did it go?"

Topher helps me to my feet, then points behind us. "The fog doesn't go past that point. I suspect that means we're within forty yards."

I follow his gaze and see that he is right. Beyond the fringe of trees lies the fog. It hangs in the air, drifting and forming shapes but not moving. I rub my arm, grimacing. "You're right. The fog and those mutts must be the punishment for anyone who tries to stay away." Will anyone actually do that? I don't know the other tributes well enough to make a guess, but I'd think that the fog would be a pretty good motivator.

Topher lookss up, then frowns. "Ah, I do believe we should be headed for the cornucopia, shouldn't we?"

The last sliver of sunlight is quickly fading away. The Feast should be starting any minute now and I'm not ready. Dammit! I glance around, then realize that the cornucopia platform is actually not more than forty yardsr away. I should be able to make it in time!

"Topher, find yourself some shelter!" I pick up my bag and begin heading for the platform. "Don't let anyone see you. I should be back soon."

He salutes me as I go. "Godspeed, Zamara!"

Unlike the other biomes, the mystic grove doesn't have an open plain between the platform and the biome itself. The trees and brush grows right up to the side, allowing me to slink down into cover and slowly sidle my way up to the spoke.

As I go, I keep an eye out for anything important. The cornucopia is empty, with no tributes anywhere to be seen. I can only imagine that means all the others are lurking around on the edges, waiting for the bags to be placed.

I move slowly, hoping to disturb the brush as little as possible. If someone sees me approaching...No. Don't think about that. Only focus on the things you can control. Steeling my nerves, I focus squarely on my movement. Though I seem to be moving at a snail's pace, I soon find myself right on the cusp of the spoke. The wooden platform can't be much more than a few feet away. That's when I smell it.

Gasoline. It's a distinctive scent, not one I'm likely to mistake. But why is it here? And why now? Uneasy, I stick a hand out and feel the grass separating the brush and the platform. A cold liquid meets my flesh.

Gasoline. There's a whole trail of it lined on the grass. I would wonder why, but it's very obvious why. Someone was planning on disturbing the Feast with some fire. Not good. If people are making elaborate plans like this, then that means everyone is playing for keeps.

But this plan, at least, won't pan out. I slip my jacket off and, careful to make as little movement as possible, use it to scrub the gasoline away. It completely ruins my jacket, of course. But what is a jacket compared to a safe route to the cornucopia?

When I'm finished, there's little trace of the gasoline left. I toss my jacket aside and check my arrows. My heart is beating against my chest like a hammer all the while. I could die here. I could die tonight. It's really the first time I've let myself think about it. My life is truly on the line. One wrong move...

No. I won't make a wrong move. I just won't.

Suddenly there's a low thrumming as a hovercraft appears in the sky, descending from the clouds. It begins to slowly approach the cornucopia. This is it. It's time. Time to test my skills and wiles against all the other tributes.

The Feast is about to begin.

Takeko Zhou (District 10)
I am a patient person.

I am more than willing to wait for my revenge, to wait for the opportune moment to strike and eliminate my foes. Anything worth doing is worth waiting for. That is why I have no qualms about sitting here on the edge of the forest, spending hours doing nothing but watching as I wait for the Feast to begin.

I'm a little surprised that Carey is equally as patient. She sits cross-legged at the base of a tree, staring out at the distant platform while absentmindly tapping her machete against the trunk. Tap, tap, tap. She's been doing it for hours. Just an endless, ceaseless tapping. By now I could believe that the sound has permanently burned itself into my mind.

Tap, tap, tap. The sound of waiting. Of lying in wait. Of anticipation. Tap, tap, tap.

Not even the arrival of the fog and howling was enough to dissuade the tapping. And why should it? The fog won't touch us. We're well within the mandatory forty yards. There is nothing to fear. Nothing at all.

Eventually, without warning, the tapping comes to a stop. I sit up straighter, glance around, and see Carey leaning forward as she points out at the cornucopia. "It begins," She says.

A silver hovercraft slides down from the clouds. It settles on the open space of the cornucopia clearing, a few good paces away from the horn itself. The door swings open and several Avoxes step out. They quickly set up several disposable tables and then begin placing items on each one. There's a veritable smorgasbord out there; hams, steaks, biscuits, wine, milk, honey and cheeses are only some of the food that's being laid out for us. I feel my stomach growl but I only have eyes for one table in particular.

The one with the bags.

It's set up further than the others. It's right in front of the cornucopia itself, being the hardest to reach. You'd have to run past every other table to get to it. Just like the announcement said, there are four bags set atop it. They're all identical; plain black duffel bags with no other discernable features. But no. As I look closer, I can see that one of the bags has a red stripe running across it. That one is different.

Why?

"When do we make our move?" Carey stands, stretching out her limbs. Despite—or perhaps because of—her limited activity, she seems eager for what is to come.

"Soon. After the others begin to fight." I haven't told Carey my full plan. She's already proven that she's not someone I can trust. And since I cannot trust her, she is nothing more than a tool to me.

Carey nods. I run a hand along the length of the dagger she gave me, wondering if my plan will result in her death. It wouldn't be a great loss. She's a very pliable ally, but as I said before, I cannot trust her an inch. Sooner or later she will try and kill me. I am prepared for that eventuality.

The Avoxes load back into the hovercraft, then it floats away into the clouds. I shiver with anticipation. "I'll need to loop around to the other side," I tell Carey, keeping up the fake plan I've told her. "But I want to make sure that the others are fighting first." This part is true. It would be no good to send an enraged Carey towards an empty cornucopia.

Carey nods again. I keep my eyes glued to the tables. When will the others strike? I instinctively check my knives, which I have hidden all over my person; one in each of my boots, two in my jacket, and the last tucked away into my hair. The air itself seems alive with tension. Seconds tick away. I'm beginning to think that the others will never show when they make their move.

Two tributes come charging out of the cornucopia. The sight of them takes me by surprise, because I had been certain that the Careers had all left. Not so. They have played me for a fool. The pair of them grab two bags each, then break off sprinting for the spoke that leads to the burnt forest.

I curse.

Carey frowns. "They're taking all the bags."

That's not the least of it. They're also running the complete opposite direction of us. If I wanted to catch them, I'd have to run twice as fast. I hesitate, step forward, then step back. I won't be able to accomplish my plan if I give chase, but my plan can't work if they flee the cornucopia with all the bags.

"They're going to get away," Carey sounds bored, like she doesn't particularly care if they get away. Damn girl. Can't she be more useful?

The Careers are already halfway down the spoke. No one else has appeared to confront them. No one else seems to care that the Careers are about to get away with the four most valuable items these Games will ever see.

"Do you want to stop them?" Carey asks. I give her a withering look. What would be the point of any of this if the Careers are the only ones to reap the rewards?

"Follow me," I tell her, "and don't fall behind."

We're off.

We scramble out of the rocky forest, slide down the slight incline, and hit the plains at full tilt through thigh-high grass. Then it's a straight-on sprint as we race onto the wooden platform, sprinting as hard as we can for the Careers.

This was not part of my plan but, sometimes, you have to know when to call an audible.

The Careers are just about to reach the forest when something unexpected happens. With a muted roar and a flash of light, a wall of flames springs to life. The two Careers stumble, shielding themselves from the sparks as they pull back.

Another identical sound has me spinning around to see that a second fire wall has sprung up behind us, cutting off our exit.

I don't panic. Panicking leads to mistakes and mistakes lead to failure. Instead, I calmly survey the situation. There are two flame walls, one blocking off the burnt forest, the other the ominous woods. The other two spokes remain open. Two paths to flee, should it come to that.

And it very well might. For, now that the flame wall has stolen their exit point from them, the Careers are sprinting for a new exit. And Carey...

She is on the floor, thrashing about and raving madly. Her words are barely intelligible, sounding more like the guttural screeching of an animal than any noise a human should make. I'm not surprised. I knew the impact that fire had on her; that's why my original plan called for me to expose her to it.

She will not be of further use to me. I hoist my katana as I chase after the Careers, leaving Carey on the ground. They still have all the bags. This will all be pointless if they get away with them.

The pair is rounding the cornucopia, heading for the hot springs, when I catch up to them. Silve is in the lead, sword out and ready as he sprints forward. Mario is just behind him, barely visible beneath the two bags she carries. I pull out a throwing knife from my jacket and take aim at the back of her skull.

Someone leaps out from behind the cornucopia, swinging a sword for Silve's head. There's a clash of steel as Silve deflects the strike with his own sword, and then the pair of Careers are falling back, yet another of their exit plans foiled.

Surorian strides forward, dressed in an entirely black bodysuit. For some reason, he is grinning. "Look! A great fiery-colored dragon, with seven heads and ten horns and on its heads seven diadems!"

I don't understand what the hell he's saying, but it doesn't matter; the distraction he caused is enough. With a battle cry, Silve darts forward and immediately the two boys are engaged in a fight, swords swinging wildly as they try to hack off each other's head.

Mario curses and spins back around, coming face-to-face with me. Her eyes stretch wide with shock, then my katana is coming down for her head.

She throws herself to the side. My katana slices through empty air and I shuffle my feet as I pivot, keeping her in view. She slides across one of the Feast tables, knocking the hams and chicken to the ground, then turns to chuck a knife at me.

I duck it, hurling myself over the table and tackling the small girl. My katana bounces out of my hands, so I pull the knife from my bun and stab it for her heart, but she twists out of the way and punches me in the throat.

I roll off her, gagging. She may be small, but her punches hurt. I'm only incapacitated for mere moments, yet it feels like an eternity. When I get back to my feet, I have only seconds before Mario swings her trident. It passes over my head and I roll, snatching up my katana from where I dropped it.

Mario spins to keep me in view. Too late. I recall my old teachings as I rush forward. Eight Leaves One Blade second form. Shock registers across Mario's face as my katana slices her belly open. She sways in place for a few seconds, then drops to her knees. A strangled cry of despair escapes her lips.

She is as good as dead. No one has ever survived such a blow. Yet you can never underestimate your enemies. That is why, as little Mario desperately tries to keep her guts inside herself, I take my knife and ram it into her throat.

Mario slumps to the ground, choking on her own blood. I bend down and take one of the bags from her corpse. Only one, because I do not need anyone pursuing me. I sling the bag over my shoulder and take a look at my surroundings and its inhabitants. Silve and Surorian are still engaged in a fierce battle, neither one seeming to gain an advantage over the other. Two tributes, both female, are duking it out over by the cornucopia mouth. I do not get a very good look, but I think one of them is Carey.

At any rate, no one is paying attention to me. Time to go.

The spokes leading to the ominous and burnt forests are still blocked by those flame walls, and a third one has sprung up around the hot springs—I can only imagine that happened while I was fighting Mario—leaving only the mystic grove spoke as a viable exit.

I break into a run, sprinting for the grove. I only get halfway down the spoke before I see another tribute approaching me head on. I growl in annoyance, pulling to a stop. Why can't anything be simple?

The other tribute also slows down and, as they come into view, I can't help but laugh. It seems as if the world is conspiring to bring the two of us together. How else could you explain this happenstance?

As Zamara stares back at me, her eyes full of hate and fury, I smile. I am not afraid of this simple, stupid girl. What is she compared to me? Nothing. If she wishes to fight me, then so be it. I'll end her miserable little life!

I don't wait for her. I step forward, swinging my blade for her head. The girl gives a little gasp, ducking into a roll and emerging under my feet. She swings out with an arrow, so I step backwards, sweeping my katana at her like a broom. She rolls again but, to my surprise, does not turn to face me. Instead she breaks out into a sprint towards the cornucopia.

I watch her go, amused. So she is that desperate to claim a bag, is she? I would chase her down and end her, but I have better things to do. Safer things. With the cornucopia full of tributes eager to claim the remaining three bags, I have no doubt that there will be plenty of death.

I can finish off the survivors later. Right now, I must take my leave.

I turn, expecting to see the the mystic grove waiting for me. But it's not. In its place is a fourth wall of fire.

I step back, growling in annoyance as I shield my face from the sparks. What the hell happened? Who is responsible for this? All four spokes are now blocked by fire. All four exits. Whoever planned this knew what they were doing. They're smart. Strategic. A threat.

I would kill them, but that might prove a little hard, seeing as that I'm currently trapped at the cornucopia for the time being. Looks as if nothing is going according to plan. So be it. I'd have preferred to escape this Feast early, but I suppose I don't mind a little delay.

I am, after all, a patient person.

Zamara Nostalic (District 0)
My heart thumps wildly as Takeko pulls to a stop. She's here! Anger and rage flash through me and my first instinct is to rush forward and drive my knife through her heart. But then common sense grabs ahold and I stop. Takeko is dangerous. Deadly. She could kill me within seconds.

She lunges forward.

I don't even have time to think. One moment she's standing completely still, the next she's slashing a katana at my face.

I roll under the first swing, then slash at her knees with my arrow. She steps back to avoid being hit, but that's fine. I didn't expect to hit her; I just wanted to distract her.

I roll again, then run. Not at Takeko. Straight for the cornucopia. I didn't come here for Takeko, no matter how much I hate her. I came here for the bags, for the prize. I can't allow myself to get distracted. I need to focus.

I run until I reach the main platform, where I slow down to survey the situation. Two girls are brawling over the corpse of another, fighting for the bag that lies there. Between the tables laden with food and drink, Silve and Surorian dance with blades. They move so fast that I can barely keep up.

Where are the other bags? A clock ticks in my mind as I desperately cast my gaze about. There were four bags, but I only see one. What happened to the other three?

I get my answer when Silve knocks Surorian back towards the tables. There's two swaying shapes on his back. Bags. He has two of them. That's not fair, but what can I do? I'm not about to try and fight him for them.

I dart forward, sliding underneath one of the Feast tables. The two girls, Nylah and Carey, are still battling it out. Nylah is cold and methodical, taking careful aim with her axe. Carey is...unhinged. She screams and howls as she slashes at the calmer girl. Neither seems to see me.

I feel cold, worry prickling along my spine as I look for supplies. Everything on the tables is food, not something I particularly desire. But there's a pile of stuff not too far away, the very same pile I saw when I raided the cornucopia on the second day.

I slink along the floor, silently praying that none of the others will spot me. When I reach the pile, I hastily grab a first-aid box and stuff it into my backpack. I look for a bow but don't see one. Not surprising. I remember how I had only seen one the last time I was here, and I've already broken that.

I don't spend much time searching. Carey's long, tortuous screams add to the pressure that is already suffocating me. With trembling fingers I snatch a plate of fruit off a nearby table and go to work, soaking the food in the remnants of my posion. I keep glancing up as I do so, keeping an eye on the others. Carey is pushing Nylah back towards the cornucopia, taking big, wide swings with her sickle. Silve and Surorian's fight has moved to the outskirts; the two duel on the spoke that leads to the burnt forest.

The fact that none of them are paying me any attention does nothing to alleviate my worry. I feel my heartbeat in my ears as I crawl towards the fallen bag. It's strapped to Mario's back, so I have to lift the body up to pry it off.

I feel sick. The small girl is lying in a pool of her own blood, her eyes frozen open, wide with terror. I recognize the slash across her stomach as Takeko's work. I saw her do the same thing to Emma.

Fury boils in my veins. My body trembles with it. How many people will she kill? Does she have no conscience? Mario may have been a Career, but she was still human. I cannot help but feel sick when I see her like this.

"May you rest in peace," I whisper as I finally wiggle the bag free.

I roll back under one of the tables, where I zip the bag open as quickly as I can and peer within. It is shockingly empty. The only thing inside is a twinkling, fist-sized black stone. It is bizarrely ordinary, a simple piece of rock with vein of iron on one side.

What the hell is it?

I stare at it for longer than I should, unable to comprehend why the Gamemakers would supply this in one of the bags. Is it supposed to be some kind of joke? Well, I'm not laughing. I pull the stone out, then drop the poisoned fruit in its place. When I'm done, I slide the bag out from under the table, back towards Mario's body.

The fact that my actions may lead to someone's death is not lost on me. But I rationalize it as being different from Takeko's wanton brutality. What I'm doing and what she has done is not remotely comparable. It's just not.

I crawl out from the table and sprint for the mystic grove, not even looking back to see what the others are doing. Boom!. A cannon rings out as I run. Whether it is for Mario or another tribute, I cannot say. I'm focused soley on escaping.

I'm halfway down the spoke when I see the fire. I pull to a stop, confused. Did I accidentally run down the wrong spoke? No. I can see the mystic grove just beyond the flames. The very same place where I entered, where I wiped away the gasoline. There shouldn't have been any left for a fire.

But there's a fire all the same.

Whoever left the gasoline must have come back and tried to start the fire. They must have noticed how it wouldn't start, then investigated. They...they might have poured more gasoline in its place and restarted the fire.

I feel numb. My plan was perfect. It was—

I scream in pain as a sword thrusts through my shoulder. I fall to my knees, staring at the bloody metal tip as the heat of the fire washes over my face. Who...why?

"You don't even have a bag," A cold, emotionless voice comes from behind me as the blade is withdrawn from my flesh, "so what were you even doing up there?"

Something slams into my back and I hit the ground face first. My nose explodes with blood as it smashes into the wooden floorboards, then I'm being hauled to my feet. Takeko's grim face stares back at me. I'm shocked that she's even here—I had thought she'd fled the cornucopia after I arrived.

She doesn't say anything as she pulls a knife out, moving in for the kill. In a state of pure panic, I scream, striking out with my bare hands. Takeko grunts as I connect with her wrist, slapping her knife away.

In that moment of confusion, I take my head and ram it into her gut. Pain washes over me, but Takeko gasps as she falls back, completely unprepared for the unconventional attack. I take my opportunity, crawling over her and whipping an arrow out of my quiver, stabbing it towards her face.

She catches my wrist, dark eyes flashing with anger as they meet mine. Her lips pull back into a snarl. "Get off me!"

I'm tossed aside. I scream as I land on my injured shoulder. Adrenaline has given me strength, but there's only so much my body can take before shutting down completely. I try to get up but cannot. I slip, falling onto my backside as my shoulder locks up in pain. There's fear now. A sheer, unrelenting terror. I am prey and Takeko is the hunter.

She stands across from me, katana drawn and ready. There's no hesitation as she steps forward and readies to swing. No mercy. No emotion. No gloating. I'm nothing more than an ant to her. I'm not a person, not a rival. Not even an obstacle.

I never was.

The crackling fire silhouettes Takeko as her blade flashes towards me. It's an otherworldly sight, like something out of one of Topher's stories. I suppose it is a fitting end for me. I only wish I could see Tareo once last time.

Takeko's sword sails over my head, displacing the air and ruffling my hair but leaving me very much unharmed. I blink in surprise as Takeko staggers up to me, a hand pressed against her neck where something silvery glints in the firelight. A...shuriken?

Takeko falls to her knees beside me. For a moment I think that she is dead, but then her fingers curl around the shuriken and she rips it out. Blood streams down her neck as she turns to glare at me, her eyes glowing like the very pits of hell. "Just a flesh wound," She growls. "Too bad I can't say the same for you!"

A knife appears in her hand, speeding towards my ribs. Panicked, I do the only thing I can think of, a tactic that saved me once before.

I headbutt Takeko.

Stars flash across my vision. Blood runs down the side of my head, pooling on my shoulders. I'm dazed, confused. So much blood. But head wounds always bleed more than they should. I push myself up and stagger forward. Takeko is still on the ground, staring into the night sky with a shell-shocked expression.

Ignoring the pain that threatens to tear me down, I make a beeline for the fire. It's hot and bright, but not nearly as large as it was before. There's no kindling, so it will die down fast. But I don't have much time. When Takeko gets back up...

Something comes spinning out of the shadows beyond the fire, zipping past my head. What was that? I don't slow down, though. I can't. Not if I want to make it.

"Zamara!" Takeko roars in fury, pushing herself back up. She staggers after me. "Zamara!"

I don't slow down. The fire is fast approaching. Do I have enough momentum?

Another object whizzes past my head. A shuriken. I've realised that just now. Whoever is throwing them must be the same person who set the fire. They probably meant to trap us all at the Feast to die. Well, they're about to get a surprise.

I'm full-on sprinting as I near the fire. The flames are burning low, but with how injured I am, it will still be a tossup. But I can't waver. No going back now.

I leap.

I sail over the fire, feel the heat as my feet kick over the flickering flames. For one awful moment I fear I am about to crash and burn. But I fly higher than I thought and, when I come down, I come down on grass.

"Zamara!" Takeko pulls short of the flames, eyes stretched wide in surprise at my stunt. "Zamara!"

I ignore her. I turn and run, plunging into the mystic grove. I run and run and run. It's not until several minutes have passed do I remember the fog and pull to a stop. The last thing I want is to run straight into that.

I find a clump of trees that grow close together and hobble over, dropping into their shelter. Completely and utterly exhausted, I lean my head back and sigh. That's when I feel the stone in my pocket.

A stone. A useless, stupid stone. That's my prize for everything I've gone through. That's what I earned for all my hardwork. All the pain. All the fear. All of that just for a stupid stone.

Pain and exhaustion finally gets the best of me. And that's how happens. How, in this forest of color and death, for the first time in what feels like forever, I find myself crying.

Nylah Nichole (District 14)
Carey screams in fury as she swings her sickle at my face. My axe deflects the blow, but just barely. The longer this fight goes on, the more deranged she gets. I'm actually a little surprised by the ferocity of her attacks. During training I had pegged her as a weakling, someone who'd only go as far as her allies took her. But here she is, fighting back with more skill and tenacity then I ever thought. She is strong, deadly, and a viable threat.

She is also completely and utterly insane.

"The fire! The fire!" She howls like a madman, swinging her sickle forward recklessly. "It burns! The flames, they scorch! I burn! I burn!"

I dodge her blows, backing up and letting her wear herself out. She's been screaming like that since I first engaged her. I didn't want to. I had been merely sprinting in for a bag when she tackled me to the ground before proceeding to try and hack my head off. The two of us have been fighting ever since.

Carey throws herself at me. It is such an abrupt change of tactic that I have no defence for it. The two of us hit the ground, wrestling and grappling for position. She drops the sickle and her hands go for my throat, but I bunch my knees up underneath her chest and kick out, sending her across the deck.

We both scramble back to our feet. I don't have time to bend down and pick my axe back up, but Carey pulls a machete from her belt. Her eyes glow with the heat of the fire. "Everyone will die! They won't spare anyone! They'll kill us all!"

As Carey lunges forward, I dance to the side. I snatch a serving ladle off one of the tables, using it block Carey's blow. She snarls, then swings again. I make her miss and block the followup strike. I see my opening.

I lurch forward at Carey, snaking my arm around her wrist. I'm quicker than she is and stronger too, so I have zero difficulties in yanking the weapon free of her grasp. She watches it skitter away with wide, shocked eyes.

I punch her in the face.

She falls, nose spurting with blood. I take up my axe and advance, ready to end this charade once and for all.

Her foot kicks out and connects with my knee. I fall, twisting so that I don't impale myself on my own weapon. Carey doesn't take the opportunity to attack. Instead, she climbs to her feet and goes for her machete, which lies at the base of a table a few feet away.

I dart forward and grab her ankle, hauling her backwards. She screams at me and kicks out with her other leg. I try to dodge. Too slow. The blow leaves me reeling, stumbling until I hit a table and flip over the end. I land in a pool of blood. Not mine. Whose?

I see Mario's sightless gaze staring at me as I push myself back up. I'm still dazed from that kick. Everything is red and blurry. This fight should have been easy. It's not. Why is Carey so strong?

I don't know where she is, nor do I bother looking. I didn't come here to kill her. I came here for the bags which, as it turns out, is right beneath me. One of the black bags lies beside Mario's body. No doubt she was attempting to flee with it when she was struck down.

I pick up the bag and loop its strap around my shoulder. I have what I came for, time to leave. But how? I remember seeing those walls of flames go up as I was streaking for the cornucopia.

I get up and stagger towards the nearest spoke. Surprisingly, the flames are gone. They must have burnt out. I am thankful that whoever set the fire didn't just burn the entire platform. That would have ended very badly.

As I am thinking this, I hear the rumbling. I freeze, turning to look around me. Silve and Surorian are still fighting on the opposite end of the platform, Carey is nowhere to be seen, and a dark-haired girl is slowly approaching the tables. What is that noise?

I look down.

The wooden boards beneath my feet are warping, bending out of shape. Cracks appear on the sides, deepening as they progress further along the wood. I glance around and see that the same is true for the entire platform.

The whole thing is coming down!

I don't know why or how. Perhaps the fire weakened the structure. Maybe our fighting did. It's possible that this was predetermined by the Gamemakers, the perfect finish to the Feast. At any rate, there's no denying the truth.

I have to get away. Fast.

I turn and sprint. My feet slap against the floor, a matching rhythm to my heartbeat. My lungs burn with exhaustion but I don't slow down. The boards beneath me continue churn and writhe. One pops loose. I watch it fall into the swamp below, splashing into the murky water.

The entire ground jolts and I lose my balance. I hit the ground and roll, desperate to get back up and continue fleeing. But I don't get the chance. As I clamber to my feet, the structure gives one last shuddering groan, then it collapses.

All of it.

In an instant we're falling. Me, the cornucopia, the other tributes. Everything. The world spins as I cut through the air, wooden boards and jagged shrapnel zipping past my head. I see the ground racing up to meet me and I squeeze my eyes shut.

Then there is only darkness and the sound of water.

Silve Wisp (District 2)
The ground beneath me collapses. Like the sound of a building crumbling, there is a tremendous crash. Surorian gasps as he tumbles through a gap, disappearing from sight. Wooden boards flip through the air. Debris from the Feast falls past me.

In the distance, I see a body land on the muddy shore of the swamp. Then I splash into the water. Ears popping as I sink down and down until I reach the bottom. I hit the ground hard, straight on my back. Something lands on my chest. Something heavy.

Shapes move over the surface above me. It is too muddy to see clearly. I try to move but can't. Something, either a piece of the platform, a log, or anything else, lies atop me. I'm stuck halfway in the mud of the water's bottom, unable to move.

I'm confused, then afraid. Water surrounds me on all sides. In two or three minutes I'll drown, die. I don't want to die. Not yet.

I struggle against the board, muscles straining as I attempt to push it off. It doesn't budge. I'm too tired, too exhausted from my fight with Surorian. He was good. Better than good. Fighting him was like fighting myself, two masters of the swords battling for supremacy. It had felt...exhilarating. Battling for my life, barely able to hold back his attacks...

For the first time in my life I had felt truly alive.

Now I am about to die.

I'll die here at the bottom of a swamp, staring up at the surface and freedom. I wonder if Mario is still alive. The last time I saw her was before Surorian attacked and that was a long time ago. I remember seeing two girls fighting just before I fell. Was one of them her?

I hope she wins. Ash is most probably dead, so she is the only ally of mine left. She always was the strongest, despite her small size. She—

What am I thinking? Have I given up? No. No! I can't, I won't. I haven't found my purpose yet. Armado gave me so much to think about. I took away his purpose and ended his life. It is only fair that I find mine and live in his place.

I'm running out of time. Each breath brings stars around my eyes. My head feels light, dizzy. Back in the academy I could hold my breath longer than anyone else, but even I have a limit. Soon I will reach it.

I try again to move the log. I shift my body to the side, pushing against it diagonally so that it shifts. My muscles strain and arms tremble with the effort. Gentle clouds of blood plume from my open wounds. The board moves just as I think I am about to give out. It slips off my chest, dropping into the mud covering my legs. I squirm out from beneath it and am suddenly free.

I swim upwards, towards the faint light. Holding my breath as I go, spots blooming across my vision. It's so far. I don't think I'll make it. I'm nearing the surface when I finally give out and inhale water.

Then there's mud beneath my fingertips. I heave myself out and feel something moving through my chest. Water. Suddenly I'm hacking and coughing, vomiting the water out onto my hands. After that, I breathe.

Pleasant, delicious air rushes into me. Fills my empty, aching lungs. I roll onto my back and stare into the sky, drinking down grateful gulps of the air. For a long time I just lie there, content to be alive.

Eventually I sit up. All around me lies the remains of the cornucopia and the Feast. Shattered pieces of wood and hunks of twisted metal litter the muddy ground. It's a scene straight out of a disaster zone. One of the Feast tables lies nearby, its contents, twelve different variety of cheese, spilled out onto the mud, sinking out of sight.

It's then that I think of the bags. It only takes a few seconds before I remember that I dropped them during my fight with Surorian. They were impeding my movements and hampering my ability with the sword, I had to let them go. Oddly enough, Surorian scooped one up the moment I did. No idea why. He got a gash across the face courtesy of my sword for that reckless action.

At any rate, neither Surorian or the bags are here. I wouldn't be surprised if they all had sunk to the bottom of the swamp.

I push myself up, then slowly make my way across the muddy ground. It's hard going. The mud is thick and piled in clumps. But I force myself to keep moving until I come across the body, half-buried beneath a pile of wood. Only the head and torso are visible.

Mario.

I feel cold. I kneel down beside her, surprised by the depth of my emotions. Looks like she didn't survive after all. My hands curl into fists and I punch the ground. I'm angry at myself. She might have survived if I had beaten Surorian quicker, but since I didn't...

There's nothing I can do now. I feel powerless. That feeling deepens when I realize that I lost my sword during the fall. It, along with my backpack, is probably resting at the bottom of the swamp. The only thing I've managed to retain possession of is my knife. At least I know over a dozen different ways of killing people with it, so I'm not completely defenseless.

It feels wrong, but I find myself digging through Mario's pockets. She must have had something on her, right? Yes. In her jackets front pocket—which is soaked through with blood—I find a pair of night-vision glasses.

Good. I had my own, but I lost them somewhere during my fall. I slip them over my eyes and suddenly everything snaps into clearer focus. The darkness that surrounded me evaporates as I check my immediate area.

The ground is littered with items, most of them useless. The remains of the Feast and the stuff from the cornucopia that we piled up a few days back. All of the food is ruined, of course, and I can't find any medicine. I do a find a weapon, though.

Stuck in the mud not far from Mario's body lies a spear. I recognize it as the one that she herself carried. My chest tightens. It seems as if Mario has left me a parting gift. "I appreciate your generosity." I whisper into the night air as I bend down and pick up the spear.

I was never very good with a spear, but its long range and versatility will serve me well. There can't be that much tributes left anyways, as that fall should have killed a few. I didn't hear any cannons, but that is to be expected. I'd have missed them while I was underwater.

It's funny. All this chaos and death should have disheartened me, crushed my spirit and choked my will. But it has done the opposite. I went into these Games looking for a purpose, for a meaning. I still haven't found it, but I've discovered the path to finding it. Mario and Ash were so desperate to win. To survive. Surely I can replicate that feeling, that emotion. If I channel that energy and feed myself with it then certainly I will find life's meaning. I will find a reason for existing.

"Thank you, Mario," I nod at my fallen comrades body. "Your death has inspired me to better myself. Perhaps that was your purpose."

Perhaps winning these Games is mine.

Corin Greer (District 5)
Cecil and I stand atop the high crests over the swamp, looking down on the shattered remains of the cornucopia. Though thick trees and dark water impedes our view, the destruction is evident. Our plan worked better than we ever thought.

"How did we accomplish this?" I ask Cecil softly.

He shrugs. "Dunno if we did. The fire itself wasn't even on the platform, after all."

True. I suppose that it doesn't matter what caused the collapse, the important thing is that it happened at all. Because it did, all the tributes, each and every one that attended the Feast, was plunged into the dark recess of the swamp. Did they die? I don't know. There hasn't been any cannons.

Cecil crouches beside the cliffs edge, staring out with a sightless gaze. Tonight he's shown me that he's more capable than I ever thought. Not only did he manage to circumnavigate the cornucopia platform while being completely blind, but he also started two of the four fires and managed to hit Takeko with one of his shurikens. A poisoned one, in fact.

But that wasn't the extent of his actions. He also made his way to our rendezvous point, avoided any and all dangers, and successfully exchange passwords with me so that we know that neither is the impostor. Oh, and did I mention that he did this all blind?

He's given me a lot to think about. In the past few hours He's proven himself a real viable threat, one that could, against all odds, possibly emerge as Victor. And I still don't know if he trusts me. I cut off several of his fingers, for crying out loud! I think he does, but I'm not about to place my life on something I think is true.

"This didn't solve all our problems," Cecil shakes his head, still gazing out into the distance. "We still don't have any food or water, for one." My stomach rumbles at the reminder. Seeing all that food at the Feast had been tempting, but what really threw me off was the drinks. I haven't had anything to drink all day and my throat is parched.

"We also don't have any way of replenishing our supplies," Cecil continues. "Since we just dropped the entire cornucopia, all the food and water included, into the swamp."

Well, damn. I hadn't thought about the implications behind the cornucopia's destruction. It was one of the only reliable source of food in this whole arena. Where will the tributes find sustenance now?

"We still have ponds," I say, thinking.

Cecil shakes his head again. "No, we don't. As I kept trying to tell you this morning, Jayda told me that all of the water sources have been poisoned."

"And you believe her?" It would be just like a District 3 tribute to try and trick others into thinking that all the water has been poisoned.

"I do."

I frown. I'm not sure I like how much trust Cecil seems to have in Jayda. She's a slippery eel, not to mention apart of the Idylwyld family. Even a nobody from District 5 like myself has heard of them. They're apparently a hugely important family that has strong ties to the power structure of the Capitol.

How can anyone trust her?

"You put too much stock in Jayda's words," I mutter darkly.

"Perhaps I do. But I'd rather die trusting someone than live my life doubting everyone."

His words are a punch in the gut. I bite my lip and pull myself into a sullen silence. Trusting is good and all, but it will eventually get you killed. I know this for a fact. But why bother telling him? It's not like he'd listen.

As an awkward silence fills the time, I curse myself. How did our success turn into such dour tidings? We just took all the other tributes down a peg—we should be glad! Then again, the fact that we're starved for food and in a fight to the death hasn't changed, so maybe we shouldn't be glad about anything.

Cecil abruptly goes very still. I frown. "What are you—"

"Shh!" He sets a finger against his lips and points down into the swamp. That's where I see her.

Way down below in the swamp, Nylah is dragging herself out of the mud. She holds one arm cradled to her chest while the other carries a tattered black bag. I instantly recognize it as one of the Feast bags. The girl hobbles over to a stump and sits down, rummaging through the bag.

"Can you hit her with a shuriken?" I whisper to Cecil.

He shakes his head. "No. I used all three of my shurikens at the Feast."

Great. Well, I can't exactly jump down the cliff and stab her with my sword, so it looks like she'll survive this day. That rankles me. If there is someone I distrust more than Jayda, it is Nylah. Something about that girl just irks me.

Nylah suddenly chucks the bag away, cursing loudly. Cecil and I exchange glances. What happened? We don't get any answers, however, as in the same abrupt manner, Nylah gets up from her spot and strides off into the darkness, still favoring her arm.

When it has come apparent that she is not coming back, I speak. "She didn't like whatever was in that bag."

Cecil nods. "Yeah, I agree. And no wonder! That bag looked pretty torn up--whatever was inside must have fallen out or been ruined by the water."

While I have no idea what is inside the bag, this encounter has given me more to think about. Who has the remaining three bags, what is inside those bags, and did they survive the fall? I try and remember who attended the Feast; Cecil and I were watching the whole time, so I think we saw everyone who came. All the Careers were present, so were Takeko and Carey. Surorian was also there, along with Nylah. Not counting Cecil and myself, that leaves only three others who didn't attend.

"At we know Jayda doesn't have a bag," I mutter. Cecil raises his eyebrows but doesn't otherwise respond.

Eventually the two of us decide that we're not going to learn anything more by observing the swamp, so we retire from the edge and move back into the meager shelter offered by the burnt forest. I can't help but feel uneasy as we go. There's too many unknown variables out there and I don't like when there are things I don't know. You can't plan for a surprise, can't think up a strategy to defeat it. The best you can do is hope that it blows up in someone else's face.

As Cecil and I make camp for the day, I cannot help but feel that this night is far from other.

Carey Brand (District 12)
Pain. Fire. Burning. Death. Destruction. Everything is gone. Everything is nothing more than piles of ashes. Why? Who decided that this was what had to happen? Who felt that this was right? Why did Colt have to die?

I trudge through the wrecked remains of the cornucopia platform, not knowing or caring why it is like this. Twisted lumps of metal sink into the muddy water. Soiled heaps of lavish food lies in haphazard piles. Everything is ruined. Destroyed. That is the nature of life. Everything is destroyed eventually.

My legs grow weak. One of them is misshapen and swollen. I landed poorly after the fall. I slump to my knees, head shrieking with pain and nose clogged with dry blood. That girl. She wouldn't die. She refused to. I hate her. I don't even know her name but I hate her. She helped. She must have. She helped.

I sob. Tears run down my face, leaving streaks in the dirt and blood. Deep inside myself I know that something is wrong. That something about me is broken. They did it. The Capitol. The Rebels. The Blackcloaks. They destroyed my world and destroyed me.

Dark water surrounds me on three sides. I'm on a small peninsula amidst the swamp. I don't know how I got here. The last thing I remember before the fall was that girl breaking my nose. What happened next? I know Takeo didn't come. She abandoned me. She always does. She hates me. Loathes me. So do I. The only person I hate more than myself is everyone else. Takeko especially.

A cold wind whips past my head and I shiver. My clothes are torn and shredded. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and try to pretend that I'm somewhere else. It doesn't work. The moment my eyes shut I see Colt dying and my house burning. I snap my eyes back open and scream.

Why can't I just have some peace?

"So you survived." A cold voice drifts over the winds. I turn to see Takeko trudging towards me through knee-high muddy water, a scowl on her face. I should be surprised to see her but I'm not. "To be honest, I didn't think you did. Thought maybe Nylah killed you."

"She tried."

Takeko nods, finally reaching the shore and pulling herself out. She looks terrible. Her hair, which is usually tied up, hangs down past her shoulders in gnarled knots. Her neck is red and swollen, patches of skin turning a dark purple. The rest of her face and skin is marked with cuts and bruises. A particularly nasty bruise sits just above her right eye. She uses this eye to look me over. "I don't suppose you retrieved a bag?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Pity." She sits herself down, wincing as she does so. She seems to be favoring her left leg. Did she injure it in the fall?

"Did you get a bag?" I ask.

She nods, reaching behind her waist and pulling out a small black bag. "I did."

"What was inside."

A cruel smile flickers across her lips. "Supplies."

She's not going to tell me. No surprise. She never did trust me. And I don't trust her. Can't even stand her, really. I've tried playing along and being the perfect little puppet but that hasn't worked. She still hates me.

I look her over carefully, examining her person. "You don't have your katana."

She grimaces. "No, I don't. I lost it when I fell. But I'm not unarmed," She smiles and pats her belt, where the hilt of a knife protrudes. "What about you? Did you lose your weapons?"

"Yes. I don't know where my machete and sickle went." I don't mention the knife cupped in my hands.

Takeko accepts this answer, nodding as she looks to the sky. "How many tributes died? I missed the cannons. I know that Mario is dead. Anyone else?"

"Nylah. I killed her just before the collapse. And I heard two more cannons shortly after I crawled out of the water, so I think Silve and Surorian are dead as well." I lie. Nothing I've just said is true. Not a word. As far as I know, no one other than Mario has died.

Takeko nods thoughtfully. "Then that makes four. Four out of twelve. Seems as if we've reached the final eight."

Takeko has never trusted me. Every time we've come up with a plan, she's put me in the most dangerous position. Even today's plan was probably a trick to get me killed. She's yelled at me. Beat me. Threatened to kill me. In my nightmares her face is indistinguishable from the Blackcloaks.

"Do you remember our promise?" I ask. I watch her eyes as they flicker with uncertainty. Of course she doesn't remember. She's never meant anything she's told me.

"I remember," She says slowly.

I nod. "Good. Then this shouldn't come as a surprise."

I snake forward and thrust my hand out. The knife I've kept hidden makes its appearance, stabbing into Takeko's chest. Her eyes widen in shock as she gasps for breath. "We promised to stick together until the final eight," I say, looking into those eyes. I'm surprised to see fear reflected back at me. "And it's now the final eight."

Takeko coughs, blood dribbling down her chin. "You bitch! You traitorous bitch!"

"Do you know why I left Zamara and Topher to return to you?"

"You bitch!" She tries to sit up only to fall back down, groaning. The pain is too much. "I'm going to kill you!"

"Do you know why?"

Takeko spits in my face. "I'm going to rip you to pieces!"

I twist the knife in deeper. She screams, body convulsing as a fresh wave of pain washes over her. "Do you know why?" I repeat.

She looks up at me. Teeth gritted together. Face clenched in pain. If looks could kill, I'd be dead. "Why?" She hisses. "Why did you return?"

"So that I could kill you."

Takeko just stares at me blankly. I raise up my arm, the one that has been irrevocably damaged by the poison. It's as black as night and rough to the touch. It doesn't even feel like skin anymore. I hold it out for Takeko to see. "You did this to me."

Takeko doesn't say anything. She stares at me, chest heaving with rasping breaths. The knife is still buried inside her, killing her. She won't last much longer. Just long enough for me to make my point.

"You sent Zamara and her alliance to the cornucopia to die," I say, clenching and unclenching my blackened fingers. I barely feel them. "You betrayed them. You meant for them all to die."

"Why...do you...care about them?" Takeko is forcing each word out now. Blood drips down her mouth and her eyes are glassy and unfocused.

"I don't. But you sent me to die as well. You lied to me and sent me to die." That was the final straw. Takeko didn't care if I died. Wanted me to die. I was just a tool to her. Something to be used.

"Didn't...think...you were the type to hold grudges..."

"That was your mistake, Takeko. You thought I was a tool. You never imagined that I might be able to think for myself."

Her only answer is a wheezing grunt.

Whispers. Screams. Death. Fire. Why am I haunted by all this? Why do I suffer the most? It is not fair. I stare deeply into Takeko's eyes. I thought maybe I'd feel something watching her die. But there's nothing. Just that same empty, aching pain.

Takeko bows her head. "Do you...know what your mistake was?"

I frown. Mistake?

I am not prepared for the jolt of pain that fills me. I look down to see a knife in my gut, Takeko's bloody hand clenched around the hilt. Her face twists into a wicked smile. "Your mistake was...that you...thought I would just...sit back and...let you kill me!"

There's a horrible tightness as the cold metal slides into my stomach and warm blood gushes out. I forget to breath. Then gasp. I shiver uncontrollably as Takeko smiles. Then I fall backwards into the mud. A second later Takeko falls beside me.

My stomach blossoms with throbbing pain. I can't breathe. I gulp for breaths, choking on the air. Moaning and crying. Crying? I hear soft sobs, but they're not mine. I twist my head around and see Takeko. She lies flat on her back, staring into the sky. Tears slide down her cheeks.

I am stunned. Shocked. I didn't think Takeko capable of expressing such emotion. I thought...I thought she was too far gone for that.

"Mom..." Takeko's whispers sail away on the wind. "I...am sorry. I...couldn't avenge...you and...Daddy..."

She goes still. No more whispering. No more crying. There is no sound but the wind. That's all I can hear for a long, long time. Then finally there is the cannon. Boom!

In the end, Takeko was more human than me. I can't even cry. Can't bring myself to care. I too had people I wanted to avenge. But I could never do it. The culprits were untouchable, more institution then person. There was never anything I could do. But Takeko...

I can't comprehend the pain that consumes me. I sink into the mud, lying on my back and staring into a starless sky. Pain. Fire. Burning. Death. Destruction. My life was worthless. Everything was pointless. Why couldn't I have died with Colt and Mother? Why did I live? Why won't I die!

Just let me die!

Let me die!

Let me die!

Let me see Colt!

Let me see Mother!

JUST LET ME DIE!

Zamara Nostalic (District 0)
I move stiffly through the woods, trying to think clearly. Where did I promise to meet up with Topher? I can't remember. I should be able to remember but I don't. My wounds ache. But I'm glad that I left the cornucopia when I did. Just half an hour ago I heard a tremendous crash, followed by an explosion of water. When I found myself on the edge of the cliff, I gazed out toward the cornucopia platform.

It was gone.

The entire thing had just up and collapsed. I could see remains of it floating in the swamp water below. I was staring at these remains in shock when the cannon sounded. I don't know who died but all I can think of is that I'm lucky it wasn't me. Takeko had come so close to killing me...

I stumble to a halt, pressing one hand against a tree to keep myself upright. I need to find Topher before someone else finds me. I'm in no condition to fight anyone, not with all the wounds I've collected over the past few days. I need to find Topher. From there I can think things over, make some plans.

The forest is dark and silent. The fog has long since disappeared, leaving the mystic grove the way it was this morning. Unfortunately that means it's still confusing as hell. But I do the best I can. I retrace the steps we took to get to the cornucopia, drawing from my memory and filling in the blanks with guesses. I think I'm making progress.

It's not until I stumble over a root and land flat on my face do I admit that I have no earthly idea where I'm going.

I lie there in the ground, too tired to get up. What are the other tributes doing? Will any of them just wander on by and kill me? It is cold and I shiver. This is not how I want to die. I don't know how I want to die, but this is definitely not it. I don't...I don't...

"Zamara?" I look up. A familiar face appears before me, soft hands on my shoulders as he kneels beside me. His eyes swim with concern. "Are you alright?"

Topher.

"We did it," I say, smiling weakly. His appearance has lifted me. The darkness that threatened to swallow me fades away, replaced by that warm feeling that only people like Topher and Tareo can inspire in me. "I got a bag."

"I knew it!" He snaps his fingers and laughs. I laugh too. His joy is infectious. "I knew you could do it!"

"Can you help me up?"

In an instant his hands are underneath my armpits, supporting me as I force myself back to my feet. Once I am, I dig a hand into my pocket and retrieve the stone. I still don't understand. What is it supposed to do?

Topher's eyes go wide when he sees it. "Where did you get that?" He asks.

I cannot help but smile. Once again Topher is amazed by the simplest of things. "It was inside the Feast bag," I say, bouncing it in my hand. "I have no idea what it's for, though. Do you want it?"

Hesitantly, almost reverently, Topher reaches out and grabs the stone. He holds it between cupped hands, staring at it and gasping in amazement. "Thank you! Oh, thank you!"

Well, at least one of us is happy. I lean back against a tree and watch Topher play with his rock. Despite the happiness I feel at being reunited with him, I cannot help but think of the Feast as a failure. There were three other bags, weren't there? Who got those? And what was inside? It would be hard pressed for anything to be worse than this rock, that's for sure.

The first strain of the Anthem catches me off guard. I start in surprise, nearly toppling over before catching myself on a branch. Topher looks up, tucking the stone into his pocket. "It appears that it is time for...The Fallen."

I nod grimly. This is always the hardest part of the day. I don't want to see anyone dead but at the same time I want to see several faces up in the sky. I don't believe that makes me a bad person, but it certainly makes me feel more than a little ill.

Tonight's faces start with Mario and I'm suddenly painfully aware of the wounds plaguing my body. Takeko made all of them, just like how she killed Mario. Poor girl. I didn't like her, but I hope she finds peace in death. Everyone deserves that much, at least.

Seeing the girl's face, Topher closes his eyes and murmurs softly. I open my mouth to comfort him but then I see the next face. My jaw drops. Stare up at it with wide and unfocused eyes. I can't believe it. How did it happen? Who could have done it?

Takeko is dead.

It feels like someone has punched me in the gut. Takeko. Dead. I had thought that if anyone were to kill her, it'd me be. I thought that the two of us were destined to kill each other. I thought...well, I didn't think that she would die. And I definitely did not expect her to die today.

I'm still reeling from the shock when the next face is displayed. Ash. So two Careers dead along with Takeko. It feels wrong to be excited about death, but I can't help but get a little giddy. All three of those tributes were huge threats, all three of them could have won these Games. Now that they're dead...the door is wide open for me.

Except...my eyes wander over to Topher. As the Anthem fades and the Seal is back in place, he bows his head and murmurs quietly. What about him? If I am to win that would mean he must die. I certainly don't want that. I don't want him to die. There must be a way to protect him, right?

"Nine tributes left," Topher whispers, gazing up into the starless sky.

I frown. "Don't you mean ten?"

"Yes. Of course. Ten tributes remain." He runs his fingers down the length of his stone. He doesn't look at me. That's when I realize exactly what he meant. Nine tributes left to die. Nine more deaths before someone is crowned Victor.

Nine more kids will die.

Why does it hurt so much? I don't know any of these kids, I shouldn't care if they die. But I do. I can't think of their deaths without feeling a crippling sense of despair. Each deaths rips a little piece of me away. Soon I'll be stripped to the bone.

But I still kill. I still try and end their lives myself. Because I must. Because I am not given a choice. I close my eyes, letting the anguish wash over me. I don't want to admit it, but...I would probably kill each and every one of the others so that I could survive. I'd hate myself afterwards, but I'd still do it. So help me, I'd still do it.

With a cry that is a mix of anger and sorrow, I open my eyes.

Just in time to see Topher stabbing out with a knife.

I instinctively twist to the side. The knife misses my neck by less than an inch, nicking the skin hard enough to draw blood. Topher grunts in surprise, then draws back to try again.

My mind shuts down, body taking over. With my left hand I catch Topher's wrist, bringing his swing to a halt. My right goes for the kill. Topher's eyes widen in shock as my arrow slams into his chest. He staggers backwards, dropping his knife. It falls gently to the grass. Droplets of his blood follow soon after. There's a great wheezing gasp, then he tips over backwards onto the ground.

Silence.

The forest is dead silent. No sound. No movement. I stand completely still, staring down at Topher with disbelieving eyes. That didn't just happen. Topher didn't just try to kill me. I didn't kill him. I didn't—

Boom!

A cannon snaps me out of my denial and drags me into cold hard reality. Topher is dead. No, not just dead. Killed. By my hand. I'm shaking. Hyperventilating. Why? The word is the only thing I can think. Why? Why would Topher....Why?

There is an emptiness in my mind as I stare down at the broken boy. His face is expressionless, eyes closed. Blood blossoms across his chest, staining his pure white shirt a dark red. He was so kind. So cheerful.

Why did he try to kill me?

My hands tremble as the blood dribbles off the arrow tip. My heart feels torn in two. This isn't right. How could Topher be dead? He was such a lively, spirited boy. He had so much to live for. How...

Nine tributes left.

I remember Topher's words. Nine tributes left. Why did he say that? What was he talking about? Was he planning on killing me already? Or...or, is it possible, that he wanted to die? Did he know that I'd defend myself and kill him? Did...did he die so that I wouldn't risk myself protecting him?

No. No, that doesn't seem right. Topher had shown no signs of such behavior before tonight. He always looked forward to life. Never for a moment did I think he wanted to die. But then...

The only possibility left is that he was trying to kill me. I don't know why, can't fathom why, but it's the only thing I can think of. Why else would he attack me?

The question is tearing me apart. Why would Topher want me dead? I stare at his body and feel cold. Wasn't I just thinking about how I'd kill all of the tributes left? That I'd do it regardless of how much it hurt? What if Topher thought the same? What if he felt that the longer he stayed with me, the harder it would be to kill me later?

This is all too much. I can't think of anything that makes sense. Can't understand why any of this would be happening. I don't understand why Topher died, why he is lying there on the forest floor in a pool of his own—

Wait.

I snap my gaze to the spot where Topher died, where his body landed. I see the crushed grass, the pool of blood. But no Topher. His body is gone!

I rub my eyes, thinking that I must have gone insane with grief. But no. His body is gone. I bend down to examine it closer, chest tightening with fear. This doesn't make sense! The hovercraft hasn't come yet, so his body should still be here. I don't understand why it's not.

"Salutations, Zamara!"

I spin on the spot and scream.

Topher stands behind me, a lopsided smile on his face. His shirt is stained with blood, but he shows no signs of being hurt or wounded. His eyes twinkle with their familiar light as he steps forward.

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. I move to pull away, but my injured leg gives out and I stumble. I fall to one knee when Topher grabs me my the shoulder and hauls me back up. "Whatever are you doing?" He asks.

In response I slash him across the face.

He doesn't scream. Doesn't make any noise at all. A large gash runs across the length of his face, dripping with blood, and he doesn't even react. Then, defying all natural laws, his flesh begins to mend. The skin stretches over the gash, melding together and covering the wound. Within seconds the wound itself seems to have completely disappeared.

I open my mouth to scream just as Topher slams a knife into my chest. My scream comes out half-gurgle, half-gasp. Blood dribbles down my chin as blinding, burning pain races up my body.

Topher smiles sadly. "This was an unfortunate but necessary action. You shouldn't have tried to resist, Zamara. Things would have been easier that way."

"Wh-what are you?" I sink to the ground, pain vibrating throughout my body. Hard to think. Hard to stay awake.

"I am Topher Celene, of course." He, it, chuckles softly. "My, Zamara! Have you forgotten me already?"

"N-no, you're not..." I don't know what this is, a mutt or something more sinister, but one thing I know it is not, is Topher.

"Why do you believe that?" He sounds genuinely curious.

"T-Topher is a human. Y-you're just a..." I shake my head. I don't know what it is. I try to reach for an arrow, but I find I have no strength. Already my body betrays me. So weak. Black spots fuzz on the edge of my vision, slowly encroaching.

Topher tilts his head back, staring at the sky. "What if I told you that Topher Celene is dead? That he was removed from the Games and killed because no one cared about him?"

I shake my head. That's all my body can manage. "I...don't know what you're talking about."

"What if I told you that, partway through the Games, the Capitol sent a mutt to take his place? A mutt that knew just as much about the world as Topher did before his untimely demise? What if I told you that the Topher Celene you've gotten to know these past few days was this mutt all along?"

I feel cold. An icy feeling spreads along my body, stretching from my toes to forehead. "You're lying," I can barely force the words out. "You're lying!"

Topher inclines his head. "Perhaps I am. Perhaps I am not. But what does it matter? You're not long for this world. Soon you will go to the Great Unknown."

I lose all strength. My head thumps against the grass and suddenly I am no longer looking at Topher, but at the night sky. So beautiful. So peaceful. I want to just close my eyes and sleep, but Topher's voice drifts over me.

"Before you depart, however, I'd like to thank you once again." Thank me? "I am talking about your gift, of course. The stone. You see, this was not just some simple rock. I was ordered to obey the instructions of whichever tribute possessed this stone. It would have made you the most powerful tribute in the arena. Yet you gave it to me. For that I thank you. And now, farewell."

I don't hear him leave. I don't hear anything at all. There's just the sky and the wind. Nature at its finest. And then, after that, there is nothing at all.

Silve Wisp (District 2)
It is down to the final eight.

Through only three faces showed in the sky last night, two more cannons sounded after. Two more tributes died. I do not know who. That is important, because if I don't know who my competition is, then how can I make a plan to best them?

The morning sky is cloudy and gray as I walk through the swamp. The sun, as always, is hidden behind a slate of clouds. I have long since decided that there must be a reason for that. I just don't know what that reason is. Why hide the sun? The only reason I can think of is that letting us see the sun would give something away. Give what away? I haven't the faintest idea.

The wet mud squelches under my boots as I walk. It is hard to get good footing, making this a poor place to fight. It would be impossible to get traction and, during a fight, one bad fall would end my time in the Games—and my life.

That is way I am currently on my way to another biome. But as I do so I cannot help but think of the final eight. Who is left? Guessing is a waste of time, yet I find myself doing it anyways.

I believe that Corin and Cecil both still live. They make a dangerous duo, one that could pose a threat to me. In fact, they're a threat to every tribute in the arena as long as they're together. They're so dangerous that I would hunt them down and kill them if I actually thought I had any chance of finding them.

The girl from District 3—I don't remember her name—is also most likely alive. I did not see her attend the Feast, and anyone who didn't attend probably survived. As far as threats go, I do not think I have to worry about her.

That only leaves four others. Though I do not have any proof, I believe that the two tributes who died after the Fallen were Carey and either Zamara or Nylah. If Takeko died, then surely Carey did as well. And it would only make sense that Nylah or Zamara happened to die. Both fought at the Feast and probably acquired several wounds, some of which that may have been life-threatening.

That means, if my guesses are correct, the other survivors are Surorian and Topher. The latter is a fool who can and should be safely written off. Surorian, however, is a much bigger threat.

Despite what I led Mario and Ash to believe, he is not a better swordsman than I am. I learned as much when I fought him last night. Yet merely being better at swordplay did not give me enough of an edge to best him. His shield was impenetrable, not least because of it's wicked spikes. He is truly a challenge to be overcome.

I sigh, wiping sweat from my forehead. I wish I could be fighting right now. I hate the waiting. Everyone at the academy always talked about the great fights the Games offered, but they never mentioned that most of your time is spent just sitting around and doing nothing.

Thinking of the academy makes me think of home. The final eight is when the Capitol interviews the tributes friends and family, and while the war may effect the other District's, District 2 has been completely untouched. The Capitol should have no trouble interrogating people who know me.

I wonder who they will speak with. Mother, certainly. The fact that she is a District official will only exacerbate their desire for her to talk. She'll only have positive things to say, but that is not because of any affection she may hold for me. No, she only cares about her own image and pride. She merely desires to see me as Victor for the benefits it will bring her.

Sonder, Spyro, Sonora will be another matter. They've never held any affection for me and will no doubt disparage me as much they can. Marcus and his gang will likely do the same. Hmm. Now that I think on the matter, they'll probably have a hard time finding others who know me well. They won't speak with Roux, but they might talk with Lexus and—

I pull to a halt.

Lexus! My skin prickles as I realize that they will speak with Lexus. What will that fool girl tell them? She once confessed her love to me and I, not knowing how to respond, merely told her that I would marry her once I became Victor. It was a joke, not meant to be taken seriously, but Lexus never caught that. She thought that I was serious and since then has doted on me at every opportunity, oftentimes leading me into moments of severe embarrassment.

She is undoubtedly telling this tale to the Capitol reporters right now, probably going great lengths to embellish it. It seems that I will return home to find that I have no choice but to marry her. The Capitol will think the two of us devoted lovers. They'd probably make our wedding a nationwide event!

Well, so be it. Though she may be a touch vapid, she is not nearly the worst person to be around. I never bothered with girls and their looks, but I know that several boys at the academy find her attractive. Perhaps I will grow to return her affections.

That is if I don't die in the arena first.

Thinking about what might happen after the Games is useless. Worse than useless, as it wastes my brain power on frivolous information. So, shaking my head to clear it of these pointless thoughts, I revert my attention to the path before me.

The swamp is littered with the remains of the cornucopia and the Feast, but I don't bother searching through any of it. What is there to find? A few trinkets could hardly change my current situation, and wasting energy searching for them would be a massive waste.

I need to conserve energy. I need to—

I see the boy. He sits across the murky brown depths of a particularly large gap of water, resting on his knees and staring blankly into the sky. His lanky build and thin arms give him away. Topher Celene.

I can't remember who his allies were, or if he even had any. If he did, they're probably dead by now. But that doesn't stop me from throwing myself down to the ground, pulling up against a log to hide from view, and casting my gaze about in search of any other tributes.

Why is he just sitting out there in the open? If he had allies, this could be a trap intended to bait out would-be attackers, but I am increasingly certain that all of Topher's allies are dead. I think the last one would have been Zamara.

So if this isn't a trap, then what is he doing?

I spend a good few moments just lying there in the mud, watching the boy and waiting for him to make a move. But he doesn't. He doesn't move, doesn't even look away from the sky. He just sits there and stares.

For reasons I can't quite understand, I am disturbed. There's just an unexplainable wrongness about this situation. Why? What is he doing? Has he simply just...given up?

Seconds tick away, then the seconds turn into minutes. I don't know what to do. I could just go out there and attack, but something feels off. I don't want to expose myself like that. Not until I understand the situation.

I gaze deeper at the boy and see that there are actually tears running down his face. He's crying!

That's when it hits me. All his allies are dead, everyone who he knew in the Games. They all died and left him with seemingly nothing. No wonder he is so upset. Well, now that I know what is happening, killing him will be much easier.

He moves before I can. He reaches a long, slender hand into the muddy water and pulls out something small and silver. I squint, trying to make it out. It seems to be a piece of tableware, a spoon or a fork, perhaps. Topher's hand slowly clenches around this item and he bows his head. When he looks back up, the despair is gone, replaced by pure determination.

He has not yet given up.

That's good. I'd hate killing someone who wouldn't even fight back. That feels wrong, somehow.

I quietly emerge from behind the log, crouching low so that I will remain unseen. One good spear thrust through the heart will do the trick. But I'll give him a warning before I strike. Killing an unaware opponent is almost as bad as killing a disinterested one.

Plunk!

Something disturbs the water. The surface ripples, small waves extending out from the center in a circle. I frown at the unexpected sight. What is going on?

The creature erupts from the water a moment later. Waves of muddy water splashing down as it scrambles onto land, four slender legs kicking up wet grass as it charges straight at me.

The Career Academy taught be to hold my ground and never give an each. That is why, as the mutt bears down on me with snapping teeth set in a small, sinuous head, I don't turn and run. Instead I set my shoulders and lower my spear.

The mutt howls in rage as my spear's tip rips into its jaw, pushing past the knife-like teeth and puncturing the soft flesh behind it. Thick liquid, an even deeper shade of black than the creatures skin, oozes out its mouth as it thrashes around, trying to pry itself free.

I don't give it the chance.

Witb my left hand I pull the knife from my belt, pivot sideways to avoid a slashing claw, then use my momentum to slam my blade into one of its green eyes.

The mutt lets out a long, mournful screech. Then it goes still, slumping to the ground at my feet.

I nudge it with my foot to ensure its dead. When it doesn't move, I grab my spear and haul it free. Luckily the tip hasn't broken off. I'd have needed to find another weapon if it had.

"You...You just killed it!"

I snap my head up, surprised to hear another voice. Topher stands on the other side of the water, staring at me with an expression of pure shock. Oh. I had forgotten he was there.

"Yes, I did." I heft my spear up, testing the weight. Could I throw it far enough?

"H-how? I daresay, that was quite a sight to behold! I am amazed, nay, astounded! Truly, that was a monumental achievement!"

"I'm good at killing things." No, I don't think I have the strength to make the throw. If the distance was a little shorter, or the spear better weighted, then maybe.

The boy continues to blab. "My! You're a Career, are you not? I...I suppose that explains quite a lot."

Why is he talking to me? If he was smart than he'd have fled while I was distracted by the mutt. Unless, of course, he doesn't fear me. I don't know why that would be the case, but you can't dismiss any possibility.

"I..." Topher trails off, watching me with bright, keen eyes. "I don't suppose that...I mean, would you wish to...align with me?"

Huh. So that's it. He's hoping for an alliance, is he? I narrow my eyes, taking him in. Other than a small satchel at his waist, he doesn't seem to have any supplies or anything else useful. Nothing to steal.

"I...I know that this is sudden," He continues, "but I truly believe that the two of us would benefit from a mutual agreement. You see, it would be—"

"No."

"Come again?"

"No, I will not align with you." The only purpose that would serve is if I wanted to backstab him, which I don't. I'll kill him, but I'll do it fairly, when we're both expecting it.

I turn around and walk away.

I hear the boy protesting, extolling all the virtues an alliance would bestow us. I don't care. I walk away and never look back. I don't want an alliance. Don't need an alliance. I'm going to win these Games how I've lived my entire life.

Alone.

Jayda Idylwyld (District 3)
After many, many hours of sitting in contemplative silence thinking and debating with myself, I have finally decided what I must do.

And it terrifies me.

I stand in the ominous woods, trying to clear my mind. My arms have stopped trembling, thankfully. When I first decided to take this course of action they wouldn't stop shaking. I was nervous. Afraid. I am basically consigning myself to death, after all. But it is the only path left for me. The only thing I can do.

I have already accepted that I won't leave this arena. The Capitol would never allow it. My family is not only hated in the Districts, but the rebel side that my family belongs to is despised by even the other Idylwyld's. I can't imagine they would be very receptive to the idea of me being Victor. So they will do all they can to ensure that I don't. Which means I will die. They will find a way to kill me, somehow.

But not if I do it first.

My plan is foolhardy and reckless. There's a chance, albeit a small one, that the Capitol wouldn't mind my Victory. They might find it preferable to an outlying District winning, for one. But if my plan goes through then they'll have no choice. Once I make my allegiance to the rebels clear, I will find no quarter, no respite. I will be a marked woman. My plan will cost me my life.

I intend to go through with it regardless.

I take a shuddering breath, shaking out my arms and stamping my feet. The arena is cold this early in the morning, but I do not believe that is what causes me to shiver. I have accepted my death, true, but that does not mean I will welcome it. I'll do whatever it takes to extend my lifespan as long as it will go. Unfortunately, I do not believe that is very long.

I close my eyes and try to keep my emotions in check. I will not cry. I will not panic. I am stronger than that. In mind and body.

Eventually I realize that it is time to put my plan into action. So I head off to find a camera. It can't be one here in the ominous woods, because this place is too dark and enclosed to get a proper view. No, it needs to happen somewhere they can't help but watch me.

That is how I find myself moving towards the hot springs. It will be my third biome of the day. I woke up in the swamp, where I spent the night watching the Feast. Seeing the entire cornucopia collapse basically over my head was frightening, but I was too focused on my plan to be truly afraid. I was mostly just curious to see who the fall killed.

I touch the bag attached to my belt, feeling at the item inside. I saw Takeko and Carey kill each other. I watched from a distance as they stabbed one another, leaving themselves to bleed out and die there on the cold, muddy floor of the swamp.

I saw the bag that Takeko dropped.

A simple black bag. A Feast bag. The girl must have claimed it from the cornucopia and retained possession of it during the fall. Unfortunately for her she didn't expect her own ally to stab her in the chest.

The bag is mine now. More importantly, the item inside the bag is mine. It is a small, metallic, star-shaped device. I had seen many similar devices before. They are created in the factories of District 3, before they're shipped out to the Peacekeepers.

A Starshatter.

In simplest terms it is a grenade, but it is oh so much more than that. It is a shrapnel, smoke, and flashbang all rolled into one. It can also function as a short-range EMP, but I fail to see how that would benefit me. It is not nearly powerful enough to take down the forcefield, something that the Capitol must be well-aware of. Not that I'd even try. There can be no escape from here. Not after what happened in the 400th.

No, I intend to use this device to help me accomplish the second phase of my plan. Killing Surorian.

He is the biggest threat left in the arena, yes, but more importantly, he is from the Capitol. After the speech I plan to give, there will be no greater action I could take than killing the Capitol's very own tribute.

I retreat into my thoughts as the trees around me slowly begin to give away to the rocky landscape of the hot springs. I haven't seen any apparitions in awhile. Normally that is good news, but today I find myself wishing I would see Callie. I want to say goodbye.

But then, considering that I may die today, I might be meeting her soon enough.

When the last of the trees fade away, I begin my search for a camera. It doesn't take long. I find it atop a jagged boulder surrounded by a pile of rocks haphazardly strewn across the ground. I am not surprised to find it so easily. The Capitol hides their cameras, but they're not really hidden. They just put them in out of the way positions so that tributes don't mess with them.

The camera seems to focus on me as I step up to it, staring into its black lens. I take a deep breath. This is it. I have mentally recited my speech over a dozen times, but this will be the first time I say it aloud. Everyone will hear it. What will my father think? He is one of the Gamemakers. Will he set in on the meeting where the others plan my death?

Pushing these thoughts away, I open my mouth to speak.

That's when I see the girl watching me.

I stop, spinning to face her. At first I think she is just another vision, finally resurfaced, but then I notice her clothes, her uniform. Finally I look at her face and, with a jolt, realize that I recognize her.

Lilah.

She stands near one of the misshapen rocks, watching me with a quiet, determined expression. Her arms hang at her sides and her bright blue eyes seem to a shine with a...sadness?

When was the last time I even saw her? The night Teddy died? That feels like eons ago. Oddly enough, I find that I harbor no malice or ill feelings towards her. I don't believe she killed Teddy. Jonah's theory never did make sense.

Lilah makes no overtures to approach. She just stands at a distance, watching with those clever eyes.

"Lilah?" I call out tentatively. Am I mistaken? Is she a new vision? "Are you well?"

"You..." The girl licks her lips, looking back and forth with furtive eyes. "You're real?"

What a strange question. "Well, I do feel real. But then, your question may be more philosophical in nature."

The girl frowns and shakes her head. Only then do I remember that she killed Jonah. I don't particularly blame her for that, considering he was attacking her, but I also remember the tale she told before that, of voices in her head and a family of assassins.

"I won't hurt you," I call out to her. I haven't spoken to another tribute since Cecil. I'm dying for more information, even if it comes from a half-sane girl. "So you needn't be afraid."

"Aren't you afraid I'll hurt you?" Lilah asks.

"No." I have already accepted my death. What does it matter if Lilah is the one to kill me? At least that way the Capitol won't get the satisfaction.

Lilah seems to accept this answer, for she nods her head and scurries over. She stops about two feet from me, and I get my first good look at her. She hasn't changed much. She's still one of the most attractive tributes out here, with her porcelain skin, brilliant blue eyes, and luscious black hair that stretches down past her shoulders. Her hair actually looks a little too good. How has she kept it so clean in the arena?

"I didn't kill Teddy," She says, interrupting my thoughts.

I nod. "Yes, I know."

"Nylah killed him."

"Yes, I--what?" I stare at her in shock. When did she acquire this information? Last time we spoke she hadn't the faintest idea who had killed him. "How do you know?" I demand.

Lilah shirks away. Perhaps my tone was a little more sharp than I intended. I take a breath, than try again. "When did you learn Nylah killed Teddy?"

"I...well, you see..." Lilah stammers over her words, sounding completely lost. I cross my arms and tap my foot. Surely she remembers? "I...it's hard to explain."

"Hard to explain?"

"Yes."

I frown, expecting her to elaborate. She doesn't. Well, Lilah never was very straightforward. Even before her mental breakdown she had been very esoteric. And now she's been living out in the arena by herself. I wonder how much sanity she has left.

I do wish she would explain about Teddy. Though I haven't thought much about the boy these past few days, his death still pangs me. He was such an innocent boy caught in something bigger than himself. Just another victim of the Capitol.

"What were you doing?" Lilah's question catches me off guard. She looks at the camera, then back to me. "Were you...speaking to them?"

Them. She means the Capitol. Her tone alone shows that she doesn't think highly of them. All of a sudden I'm reminded of how I tried to tell her about me being a rebel, all those days ago. The outburst of her "second personality" had interrupted me.

"Yes." How much should I tell her? She may be unpredictable, but she was an ally. Shouldn't she know the truth?

I open my mouth, but Lilah cuts me off with a sudden hiss. "Not here!"

I frown. "Excuse me?"

"We can't talk here. Too open. I know a better place. Follow."

Lilah turns and scurries back the way she came, weaving between the rocks. She doesn't even look back to see if I'm following. Should I follow? This could very well be a trap. But at the same time, I want to trust in Lilah. I didn't before and that might have been a mistake. The Anti-Careers might still be around if I had.

Sighing softly, I take off after the girl. My speech can wait. There's no rush, after all.

Lilah leads me to a large outcropping of rocks. They look sort of like haybales stacked atop one another. I'm still surveying these when Lilah ducks down and enters a hole carved into the face of one. Huh. A cave?

I follow inside, ducking low so not to knock my head. My worries are unfounded, though, as inside I find that there is much more room than I'd have thought. The round, circular cave ia big enough for us to stand up straight and with room to spare.

"Why did you bring me here?" I ask Lilah as she settles down on the floor, crossing her legs and folding her arms.

She arches an eyebrow at me. "I thought you were going to tell me something."

"I, well, yes." When did she get so clever? "But you were the one who requested we spoke here. Something about being seen, I believe."

She nods. "Yes. You were going to say something about the Capitol. It's dangerous to say such things where cameras might be watching."

I nearly laugh. She was worried that the Capitol would overhear? While that is normally a very real concern, it does not apply here. "I wanted them to hear me," I tell her. "But perhaps I should explain first?"

I find myself telling everything about me and my association with rebels and rebellious thoughts. I do, however, take care to omit anything about my family. I do not wish to say anything that may lead to their deaths, even if only to Lilah.

When I finish, Lilah watches me with a solemn gaze. "You shouldn't go through with your plan," She says quietly.

"Why not? You heard me. I'll probably be killed by the Gamemakers any time now."

"Probably isn't a guarantee. If you remain silent, they may not kill you. But if you speak out, you will die. Painfully. They will send their mutts after you and make you an example to the District's."

"I know that." Does she think I don't? Does she really believe that I haven't thought all about this and the myriad of ways my plan could go horribly, horribly wrong? Well, I have. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm terrified by it. But I'll go through with it anyway.

Because I must.

Lilah sighs, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall. "If you do give this speech, what then?"

"I'll find Surorian. Then I'll kill him."

"No!"

Lilah shoots forward, eyes snapping open and shaking her head vehemently. I'm so shocked that I forget to breathe. "You can't!" She hisses. "You can't fight Surorian!"

I gape at her, completely bewildered by this reaction. Eventually I remember to think, and gasp out a reply. "Wh-whyever not?"

Lilah settles back down, her composure suddenly regained. She sighs and taps her head. "You can't fight Surorian," She says, "because you'll never win. He's too strong."

"I am well aware of his strength," I say dryly. "But I do believe that I have what it takes to best him."

"No. You don't."

I frown. She says that so matter-of-factly...why? I wait for her to elaborate, but when it becomes clear that she isn't, I press her. "Care to explain?"

She gives me a withering stare. "I take it you didn't see what he received from the Feast?" I shake my head. I was too busy trying not to get crushed to check and see what anyone took. Lilah sighs again. "Well, he received body armor. Real high-tech stuff too, like what elite Peacekeepers have. Your weapons won't so much as scratch him."

I can't say that this news doesn't shock me. It does. Body armor? I hadn't accounted for that variable. It will certainly make my plan harder, but not impossible. "I will simply aim for his head," I tell Lilah.

"No, you won't. He also has a visored helmet. Reinforced. It'll withstand several blows, and..." She trails off.

"What?"

"If its the model I think it is, then it gives him night vision and thermal scopes. Possibly full spectrum analysis as well. It can check a building for structural integrity and a body for wounds. You won't beat him."

Well, damn. I sit in silence, staring blankly ahead as I digest this new information. I never thought that the Capitol would supply such a game-changing item at the Feast. This makes Surorian practically invincible! And I thought that my Starshatter was overpowered!

Wait.

That's it! The Starshatter has an EMP function, and Surorian's helmet is electronic! One blast would shut the thing down, either fragmenting his vision or temporarily blinding him as his helmet plunged into darkness. In this moment of weakness I'd have plenty of time to strike him down!

I find myself smiling. Surorian no doubt thinks that his helmet is a boon, one that is certain to bring him luck. He'll never expect that it'll be the very thing that brings him death.

Seeing my smile, Lilah frowns. Her eyes dart across my face, as if looking for what has brought me joy. I don't tell her about the Starshatter. I don't trust her enough and, besides, she is still my enemy. On the off chance that the Capitol doesn't kill me, I might need to fight her. Better to keep an ace up my sleeve.

I rise to my feet and Lilah scrambles after me. "You still plan on fighting him?" She asks as I head for the exit. "Even after what I told you?"

"Yes, I do."

"He'll kill you."

I nod. "He might."

"And you're fine with that?"

I stop, staring out at the daylight that shines outside the cave. It's a loaded question. Am I fine with the possibility that I die today? Surprisingly, I think I have an answer. "Yes," I nod again. "Yes I am."

Lilah sighs. "Unfortunately, I can't let you throw your life away. I hope this doesn't hurt too badly."

Before I can cry out or run, before I can even process her words, something slams into the back of my head. I barely register the pain before everything goes black, knocking me unconscious.

Cecil Thayer (District 8)
Corin and I stand on the edge of the swamp, breathing in the crisp morning air. Corin shifts beside me, the swishing of her shirt telling me that she's raising one hand. "I don't see anyone."

I chuckle softly. "I doubt you would. He won't just be sitting out in the open."

I can't see her face, but I have no doubt that Corin is scowling. She does that a lot, I believe. "Just because your last plan worked doesn't mean you're a genius," she huffs.

I nod, conceding her point. I'm no genius. Being a genius would be awful. Who'd want to always be the smartest, always be right? Everyone would sit around you and stare, expecting you to do something amazing. I would hate that. Sometimes I'm glad to normal.

Well, as normal as a blind guy with a disfigured hand can be.

"You're sure you never saw me leave?" I ask Corin, kneeling down to let my fingers run through the cold mud.

"Yes. After the cornucopia fell, Silve never left the swamp. He has to still be there."

I nod. "And Nylah is in the ominous woods?"

"Most likely. It's possible she's escaped to the hot springs, though."

"She hasn't. She'll still be in the woods." Nylah doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would leave the shelter of the woods for the vast openness of those rocky plains that surround the springs.

Corin grunts. "I hope you're right."

I hope so too. We've been camped here on the edge of the swamp since dawn. That means we've spent several hours doing nothing but waiting. I try my best not to let the pangs in my stomach distract me.

I self-consciously reach a hand into my belt and touch the shuriken there. I have three, thanks to sponsors that sent them to Corin. We also received water, which means we'll be able to stave off dehydration for at least a few more days. My own sponsors sent me a knife and bread, so we won't starve either.

"What if he never shows?" Corin asks.

"He'll show." Corin. I don't want to admit this, but she scares me. She knows all my weaknesses, all my strengths. She could kill me any second she wanted. I'd never be able to sense the swing and stop it in time.

She is also the only reason I've made it this far. I'm not dumb or egotistical, I know that she's done a lot to keep me alive. A heck of a lot. But at the same time, I can't help but feel that...no. No, I won't even think it.

Unfortunately, I can't help but think about it.

I'll only go as far as Corin wants me to go. I can't betray her until the final two, as I wouldn't want to fight another tribute at a disadvantage. But Corin? She could kill me in the final three, or final four. She only needs me as long as I'm useful to her...

I trust Corin. I like Corin. I think of her as a friend. But I am under no delusions about the nature of our relationship. One of us has to die. We don't necessarily need to kill one another, but it's a possibility. A frightening one. I only need feel the fingers on my hand to know what kind of damage Corin can do.

"Hey, Cecil." Corin sounds uncharacteristically nervous. I immediately open my ears, letting the sounds of the arena fill me. Is someone approaching? No...There's nothing out of the ordinary.

"Something wrong?" I ask.

"What if it's not Silve who comes? What if...it's the mutt?"

Oh. Right. I had almost forgotten about it. No, that's not the right phrasing. I didn't forget. I deliberately pushed it out of my mind. I still get shivers when I think about it. It had my voice. It had my face. It even knew about my past, about mostly everything I've done. It was me, but not. It was...

I don't even know what it was.

Corin repeats her question, but I have no answer. I just shake my head and tell her that, regardless of whether we see Silve or the mutt, we will merely try and lure it to the ominous woods. Let Nylah deal with it. That would be nice payment for what she did to us.

Corin begins to speak again, but cuts off as we hear the footsteps. We crouch in the long weeds, ready to throw stones once we see Silve. We already set the flashlight up in the woods, hoping the light would draw him in. But if that doesn't work, we have the stones.

Judging by the sound, Silve appears out of a low incline in the west, trudging through the mud. Corin whispers to me that he has a spear in one hand and a knife in the other. I nod, hands clasped around a stone. My palms are sweaty. Why am I so nervous?

"Get ready..." Corin whispers. I feel her wind up to throw, then...she lowers her hand?

"What?" I whisper back.

"I...he's heading into the ominous woods." Corin sounds surprised.

"Huh? Really?" I frown, furrowing my eyebrows. "Does he see the flashlight?"

"Don't think so. He's just...walking that way."

She goes silent, then there's nothing to hear but the sound of Silve's footsteps as he walks. Soon the telltale sign of mud squelching beneath boots fades away completely, and Corin tells me that he has disappeared from sight, fading away into the woods.

"We didn't even need to lure him!" I say, grinning. I did not want to mess up and accidentally draw him to us. Fighting a Career is a good way to get killed.

"Yeah." Corin doesn't sound nearly as enthusiastic, but that's not surprising. Corin is never enthusiastic about anything.

"Come on. Let's go get some supplies before he comes back."

We move quickly, but carefully. We don't want to accidentally bump into another tribute whose just hiding. But there's no incidents as we weave through the swamp, Corin leading the way so that I don't fall into a surprise mudpit. I grit my teeth, realising that this is something else I'd never be able to do on my own. Still, I'm not completely reliant on Corin. The last two days proved that, didn't they?

Corin eventually stops beside what sounds like a large body of water. "The cornucopia landed near here," she whispers to me, "so I'm going to check for supplies. Keep watch, okay?"

I nod, wishing her luck. She scampers off and I open my ears. There's nothing to be heard but the wind rustling through reeds and the occasional birdcry. It's quiet. Almost eerily so. Or am I just imagining things?

"Found a knife," Corin grunts from somewhere down near the water. "And a roll of bandages. Not that they'll do us any good, considering theywhat they're covered in..."

The search continues with Corin periodically letting me know what she found. A ruined box of matches, a baton, several bottles of pills with no labels. Nothing immediately useful. She's telling me about a machete she found when I hear something that draws my attention. Rippling water?

"...pretty useful. The edge is still sharp..."

Yes. That's water. Moving water. But why would the water be moving? A fish?

"A pot lid. Like that would be useful! Oh! Is that a bag? Looks just like..."

There's a sudden roar of water. Corin screams and I stumble back as a blast of cold water smashes down on my head. A trumpeting roar fills my ears as I turn to run only to slip and fall on the mud.

"Mutt!" Corin lets out another scream as I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears. A mutt! From the water? I can't see it, obviously, but I can hear its feet as they crunch against the ground, moving at a rapid pace.

"Cecil, behind you!"

I throw myself to the side and something large and heavy whips past me, churning up mud and splattering it across my face. I reach for a weapon when something long and thin slams into my side, sending me flying.

I hit the ground at a roll, eventually coming to a stop at the waters edge. I force myself up, feeling lost as I spin around, trying to hear over the roaring and screaming. Where's Corin?

"Cecil! Over here!"

I sprint towards the sound of her voice, whipping past the mutt. I hear it roar in fury as I fly past, then hear something even more frightening. Two more eruptions of water, followed by trumpeting roars.

More mutts!

"Cecil!" I nearly slam into Corin, only holding myself up at the last minute. Her hands grip my shoulders, pulling me along. "There's too many! We have to run!"

A frantic chase ensues. Corin and I sprint through the swamp, hurtling logs and vaulting over metal pieces of the cornucopia. The mutts roar behind us, not losing an inch of ground. I don't know what they even look like, which is utterly terrifying. Will they rip to pieces with claws or tear my flesh apart with teeth?

"This way! Up the hill!"

Corin practically drags me up a steep incline. I try my best to stay afoot, knowing that we must be heading up into one of the other biomes. But which one? Does it matter?

The ground beneath my feet turns from mud to dirt. I suddenly surge ahead, momentum picking up as adrenaline kicks in. I pass Corin, leading by several feet. The mutts sound distant, further away. Are we escaping?

I take a few more steps, then am suddenly lifted into the air. I scream as thick fibers snap around me, enclosing me, trapping me. Ropes?

I struggle against the rope, hands pressed too close together to grab a weapon and cut myself free. I hear Corin's ragged breathing, the roars of the mutts, and, underneath it all, something else. Footsteps.

Another tribute has arrived.

Lilah Jöllenbeck (District 8)
The forest around me is dark and dreary. I try not to focus on it as I walk, but I find it almost impossible. It's so overbearing, overwhelming. It's hard to focus on anything else when you're surrounded by those thorns and grasping vines.

What does this forest hide? I know too much about assassination to be truly comfortable here. These woods are the perfect place for an ambush.

That is why I set up my own traps here. The net that I've been carrying with me for days has finally found its use as I set it up in the forest, along one of the only unobstructed paths through the woods. If anyone is dumb enough to enter these woods, they'll probably be using said path.

I twirl my daggers between my hands as the trees around me open up to reveal a small, circular pond. I stop and stare at it. It's true that I need water, but...I don't know. There's nothing abnormal about this pond, but for some reason I don't trust it. I don't trust anything in these woods.

I'll have to drink something eventually. I'll die if I don't. Yet I'm not about to put my trust in this pond and these woods. I can't. I won't.

Don't blame me if you die of dehydration Violet says.

"Are you saying I should drink the water?"

''Yes. Who cares if it's poison? Don't you want to die? It would be such a sweet release. No more pain. No more suffering.''

"Shut up," I mutter. Unfortunately, I can't muster the amount of indignation required. I don't want to die, but...I would like for the pain to end. For the suffering to fade. But not me. I need to live. To exist. I do exist, don't I? I'm sure I do. Yes, I do.

''Why do I have to talk with you? I wish I could speak with Surorian. Now, he is someone interesting!''

I squeeze my eyes shut. Why is life unfair? Why did I end up here, trapped with Violet in my head? I remember thinking that I was going to volunteer, but I was selected before I even could. Peacekeepers needed someone to represent District 8, and I was their choice. I thought it was fine—I want to able to provide for myself and my child. But...even if I win, what am I returning to? District 8 was torn apart when I left. I doubt that the Capitol would let me return. But then, why would I need to? There's nothing left for me there, not since my child was brought to the Capitol with me. I just need to win and—

Behind you!

A boy lurches out of the brush, stumbling to his knees. He looks up and gasps as he sees me. His bright brown eyes widen in fear.

Kill him!

I leap to my feet, daggers twirling. I'll plunge one into his throat, the other will deflect his weapon. He won't see it coming.

The boy shies back, raising a hand over his head. Protecting himself? He looks so defenceless. Like...

''Kill him! KILL!'' KILL!

Violet's screaming overides my thoughts. Red flashes on the edge of my vision and I sense it coming. Violet. She wants out, wants control. When was the last time she had control? She'll kill. Kill and kill and kill. It's what she does best. But...that boy looks so defenceless, so weak. Who...why...?

KILL HIM!

"No!" I scream. I lash out at Violet, hitting her with my mind, my will power. I won't let her! She's ruined my life enough! She cannot control me! I won't let her! I won't!

"Are...are you alright?" The boy slowly lowers his hands as I stumble back, Violet's voice still screaming in my head. I raise my hands and grab my head. Shut up! Shut up! I drop to my knees and feel the boy watching me in worry. I'm about to scream at him to go away, but that's when it happens.

Violet fades. She goes dormant, back to lurking in the recesses of my mind. She's not gone. She'll never be gone. But she's not currently yelling, not talking. It'll be awhile before she resurfaces.

I hope.

The boy leans down and picks something up. I see something silver and sharp in his hands and am about to grab his wrist when he sets it down beside me. "This is yours, I believe," He says softly, stepping back.

I look down at the item. My dagger. I hadn't even realised that I dropped it.

I quickly snatch it up, then point it at the boy. "Who are you?" I demand.

"A male human being! I've been given the name Topher by my parents, as is custom of all people!" The boy snaps his fingers and smiles. I stare blankly. Topher? He is the District 0 male, yes? Was he always this stupid?

Either through ignorance or arrogance, the boy doesn't even react to the dagger I have pointed at him. He just smiles and bobs his head. "What is your name, good sir?"

I give him a flat stare. "You don't call girls "sir", you know."

He blinks twice, then scratches his head. "Ah, yes. Quite so. I misremembered. Well then, let me rephrase. What is your name, good ma'am?"

I'm tempted to just stab him here and now. But it's been a long time since I have gotten information about the other tributes. Interrogating this boy is too valuable of an opportunity to pass up.

"My name is Lilah," I tell him. I know that I should fake a smile, but I can't. Violet is too fresh in my mind.

"Quite right!" The boy, Topher, snaps his fingers again. "You're District partners with Cecil, I believe. He is quite an interesting lad!"

"Do you know where he is right now?" I ask. Despite being District partners, I was never close with Cecil. He was always so cold and aloof, never initiating conversations and always hiding behind his sunglasses. That suited me fine at the time, but now I'm wondering if I shouldn't have tried harder to befriend him. I might have learned information that would benefit me right now.

Topher throws his hands up. "Alas! I do not know his whereabouts. The last time I even saw him was before this all began."

I nod. Of course Topher hasn't seen him. I'd be surprised if Topher has seen anyone. Surely they would have killed him already if he had.

"What about the other tributes?" I ask, interrupting him as he is starting a story about a spork or something. "Have you seen any of the others?"

"As a matter of fact, I have! It was early this morning, you see. It was when—"

A sudden scream drowns the boy out. He gasps, spinning in place and turning to face the direction it came from. As he stands frozen, I shove past him, both knives held in tight fists. I know that direction. I know what I placed there.

My trap!

It is a surprisingly short time before I find myself bursting out of the undergrowth to see—speak of the devil!—Cecil lying on the forest floor, entangled in my net. He notices my arrival and looks up, his face paling. "Corin!" He screams as he begins thrashing. "Corin!"

I curse. Of course he still has his ally! Footsteps announce her arrival and she explodes out of the bushes a second later, looking scared out of her wits. She glances at Cecil, then follows his gaze to me. She raises a shield over her head, sword at the ready as she shuffles forward.

Then the mutt arrives.

It crashes through the bracken, ripping through thorns and vines. Its inky black skin glistens like liquid as it stops to snarl, showing a mouth full of wickedly sharp teeth set inside a slim, willowy head.

Corin's gaze flickers from me to the mutt, then back again. "Crap."

She makes the first move. With a low, sweeping swing of her sword she slices through the ropes that bind Cecil. Then, as he scrambles to his feet, she turns to face down the mutt.

I should run. Leave this volatile, dangerous situation and run for my life. But I find myself rooted to the spot. I've gone too long just sitting in the shadows, letting everyone else play the game while I hid and waited. Well, I'll hide no longer.

It's time to let the assassin loose.

The mutt lashes forward, its sinuous head snapping at Corin. But she deflects the blow with her shield and follows up with a swing that sends the mutt reeling, screeching in fury as dark droplets of blood spray down.

I choose this moment to strike. Corin has her back to me and doesn't even notice as I dart forward, raising a knife to plunge into her neck.

Something slams into my chest, driving me to the ground and knocking the breath straight out of me. Hands wrap around my neck and I see Cecil atop me, his knees pressing against my wrists, pinning them to the ground. I try to throw him off to no avail. He's too strong!

A long, thin object whips through the air and Cecil is thrown backwards, disappearing as quickly as he appeared. I roll onto my hands and knees, gasping for breath, when I see what saved me.

Another mutt.

Identical to the first one, it trumpets loudly as it rears up on its hindlegs, tail lashing behind it. The very same tail that smashed into Cecil. I watch as it waves back and forth in an almost mesmerising way. Then I snap back into my senses and roll to the side as the mutt slams down, trying to crush me with its feet.

The forest is absolute chaos. Screams, roars, and the sounds of battle fill the air. Corin is dancing between trees, using her shield to block blows from not one but two mutts. Cecil is back on his feet, standing on the fringe of the battle and watching everything with a look of pure horror. And Topher—Topher!—stands halfway enclosed in the woods, gazing out with wide, frightened eyes. What is that fool—

Something slams into my chest and I'm hurled backwards. I scream in pain as I smash against a tree, branches snapping as they dig into my back. I hit the ground and blink away blood that dribbles down from my forehead, streaming over my eyelids. I reach an unsteady hand up and feel the gash. Superficial.

The mutt trumpets again, glaring at me with neon green eyes. I scramble back onto my feet, dropping into a fighting stance and holding my daggers at the ready. Lucky that I managed to keep ahold of them. "Come on!" I shout at the mutt. "Come at me!"

Nearby, one of the other mutts roars as it crashes to the ground, bleeding from over a dozen different wounds. It does not get back up.

The mutt that was facing me suddenly roars in fury, spinning to face Corin, who stands over the corpse of its fallen brethren, holding her shield high and panting heavily. Her face is bloody and she seems to be favoring one leg, but is otherwise uninjured.

Both of the surviving mutts approach her, chittering softly as they do. Are they communicating? Seems like it. At any rate, they've forgotten about me. I should just—

I gasp in pain as a shuriken rips into my thigh. I fall to one knee, turning to watch Cecil as he winds up for another throw.

Not going to happen!

I duck and roll forward, ignoring the pain in my thigh, and reach into my jacket pocket, grabbing the throwing knife secreted there. He blinks in surprise, then throws himself to the side as my knife rips through the air, missing him by a hair.

I grunt in dissatisfaction. Cecil doesn't stop moving as he sprints across the field towards Corin, sliding under one of the mutts in the process. The creature stumbles back in surprise only to take Corin's sword through the face. A second later it drops dead beside the first.

The last remaining mutt roars and begins attacking with renewed vigor. As Corin and Cecil stumble back to face it, I realize it's time to go. I'm many things, but stupid isn't one of them. I know when to quit. I turn and sprint into the woods. I only go a few paces before crashing into Topher.

The boy grunts as he falls onto his backside. "My! What strength you have!"

"What the hell are you doing?" I demand. My fingers feel at the shuriken still in my thigh. Is it safe to pull it out?

His eyes follow my gaze, widening as they spot the shuriken. "Oh! Is that Cecil's? I do believe that I said he was quite the—" He cuts off as I yank the shuriken out, stuffing it into my pocket. "Oh. Well, that's not exactly medically sound. But I digress! I must say—"

I don't hear the rest, as I'm already sprinting through the woods, trying to put as much distance between me and that battle as possible. The last thing I want is to find myself in a two-on-one fight against Corin and Cecil. Because they'll beat that mutt for sure. Corin has already killed two, after all, and that was with Cecil occupied fighting me. Together they'll make short work of a lone mutt.

I don't know how long I run, but eventually the dark, ominous trees turn into bright, ostentatious ones. The biomes have changed. I slow to a stop, panting as my exhaustion finally catches up to me. That was close. What if—

Topher emerges from the woods, tripping over a root and landing face first in the dirt. I blink, shocked. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Hmm?" He pushes himself up into a kneeling position. "I was following you, obviously. Since we're an alliance I thought it only prudent that we stick together. Do you disagree?"

I stare blankly at the boy. What? He's kidding, right? Only, I know he's not. He actually believes that we've become an alliance. Idiotic. Why would he team himself up with someone he barely knows?

"Do you think we've gone far enough?" He asks as he gets back to his feet. "Or should we continue moving? I would not be surprised if Corin and Cecil gave chase to us."

I take in his pale, innocent face. At first I thought he might be faking his stupidity, but the more I watch him, the more evident it becomes that he is not faking. He truly is this trusting and naive.

I would kill him, but...Violet's rage is still fresh in my mind. I can still feel it, deep inside me. It burns and festers like a wound, threatening to overtake me at any moment. I fear that if I kill this boy, then Violet will wrest control of me. And never give it back.

Topher is still talking but I'm no longer listening. What do I do? Kill him? Or spare him? Would it even be safe to keep him around? He could betray me at any moment.

I step forward and Topher cuts off, watching with surprised eyes as I start to frisk him for weapons. I find nothing. Not even a single knife. How the hell has he lasted this long without a weapon?

Somehow this information is what makes me come to a decision.

"You can stick with me," I tell him. "But don't say anything unless I give you permission and don't do anything stupid. Okay?"

In answer, he gives me a silent salute.

He may not be the strongest tribute, or even the smartest, but he is at least someone who isn't currently trying to kill me, and that's nice. I just hope it can stay that way. "Come on," I wave him forward as I continue to move away from the ominous woods. "We don't want Corin and Cecil to find us, do we?"

If they do, well, maybe Topher will distract them, if nothing else.

Hello, Lilah.

I pull to a stop. Violet! After our argument, I had thought that she'd be inactive for hours, but she's back already! I turn to look back at Topher, but he has become completely absorbed in examining a nearby flower. "What do you want?" I whisper to Violet.

The only thing I want is for you to listen to me!

"And why the hell should I do that?"

''Because it's important! Now shut up, you stupid moron!'' I clamp my jaws shut, feeling agitated. Why should I have to do what she says? Violet continues on, ignoring my discontent. ''You listening now? You better be, because this is important...''

Nylah Nicole (District 14)
I sit in my small, enclosed camp, listening as the roars and screams finally fade away into nothingness.

Something has happened. A fight between tributes and mutts. One that, apparently, hasn't resulted in any deaths. I'd have heard the cannons otherwise. I close my eyes and run a finger down the length of my knife. It's the only weapon I have left, after I lost my axe in the cornucopia collapse.

That was a harsh blow, I must admit. A single knife is not enough to let me win these Games. Oh, a knife can let me do many, many things. It can help me survive in a forest, kill small animals, skin those animals, and start a fire. But it won't let me kill a tribute. Not one who is prepared and armed with swords and spears and axes.

No. A lone knife is not enough for me.

The forest has reverted back to its normal eerie silence. Not a single sound pervades this place. The fighting tributes must have moved on. But did they drop anything valuable? Yesterday's Feast did more to harm me then help, so I still need to find myself some supplies. If those tributes dropped something, anything, then I need to try and recover it.

Slowly, carefully, I slip out of my encampment. I pick my way through the woods, selecting the easiest path through the thick undergrowth and close-together trees. I don't step on a single twig or rock. When you've spent almost your entire life in the woods, you learn how to move stealthily. It was either that or die.

And I refuse to die.

I remember were the sounds of battle originated from, so I have little difficulty finding the aftermath. I step into a small circle of flattened weeds and torn bushes, no doubt the effects of the brutal battle that just took place. Three large bodies lie prone on the ground.

Mutts.

I step up to one, prodding it with my knife. It doesn't move. I look down at the grass, which is soaked with an inky black fluid that I can only surmise is the creatures blood. Whoever killed these mutts was thorough. The mutt's hard, ridged skin is laced with several lacerations and one of the creatures eyes is mushed and split in two.

Interesting. The lacerations are obviously the work of a sword, which doesn't do much to tell me the identity of the attacker. Many of the remaining tributes used swords in training. But the eye wound is much more intriguing. The wound pattern seems to suggest that it was hit by a small thrown object. A shuriken, perhaps.

Only two tributes used shurikens during training. Teddy and Cecil. And since I killed Teddy days ago, it only figures to assume that Cecil is the culprit here.

"And if Cecil was here," I say, thinking aloud, "then that means the sword user was Corin." I've been longing to face off with those two again. They are the biggest threat left in the arena, though I doubt the other tributes have realized that yet. If we don't kill one of them soon, they will make short work of us.

Unfortunately I am in no position to kill either of them. Not with the feeble weapon I currently possess. But that is why I am here; to gain a new advantage.

I scan the ground, hoping to find a mislaid weapon or one that was discarded. I search through the weeds, check small furrows in the ground, and even flip one of the mutts to get a look under it. But no matter where I search, I get the same result.

There are no weapons to be found.

I curse and kick one of the corpses. Why couldn't these stupid mutts have won? Then I could have picked the bodies clean of their supplies and slunk back into hiding, deadlier than before. Nevertheless, I must remain calm. Letting my emotions run rampant will only serve to hold me back. I need to--

Footsteps.

I spin around to flee, but I am too slow. A boy erupts out of the forest, a long spear held tightly in his hands as he hurtles straight for me. I duck under the thrust and roll onto my feet, emerging behind the boy. He grunts and spins around.

"Nice reaction time!" Silve grunts.

I nod, not taking my eyes off his spear. Damn. Not only is Silve one of the toughest tributes in the arena, but his weapon gives him a massive range advantage over me. The length of my knife is not even remotely comparable to that of his spear.

Silve is not particularly tall. In fact, I am more or less the exact same height as him. But his body is carved with muscle, the reward of long hours spent training at the academy. His arms ripple with undulating strength as he repositions his spear. One punch alone could incapacitate me. And, if we got into a grappling match, his weight advantage would end the fight before it even began.

I'll need to end this fight quickly. It's not impossible to beat an opponent armed with a spear when you only have a knife. I just need to wait for him to strike, sidestep or deflect the blow, then grab the spear with my left hand and pull myself forward to stab him in the neck.

Not impossible. Just very, very difficult.

We circle around each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. His blue eyes seem to take in my entire person, probably scanning for hidden weapons. I don't need to search long to find his; he has a knife held in his left hand.

Hell. That'll make stabbing him harder. But I can't run. I wouldn't get more than a few steps before his spear drove into my back. No, I need to fight. To kill.

Silve strikes without warning. He lunges forward, spear aimed for my heart. I slap the tip away with my knife, but as I grasp for the spear, he swings it to the side, pulling it out of my reach.

I stumble but manage to stay on my feet. Silve grins. "You're not the only one who knows how to fight knife against spear!"

I growl. Of course the Career would know that strategy! He probably knows each and every strategy I could possibly imploy. He'll have planned for every eventuality. There is no way to beat him.

Except by doing something extremely reckless and stupid.

"The mutt is moving!"

Silve's movement is involuntary. Even as he realizes it is a stupid lie, his eyes shift slightly to look. I take that opportunity to close the distance between us, lunging straight at him. He pulls back, but I am faster than he is. My hand closes around his spear's haft and I use my momentum to slam the tip into the dirt. His left hand, and the knife hidden there, is jerking forward to stab me when I slam my head into his.

Pain. Blackness. Stars.

I hit the ground the same time as he. We both lie still for several long seconds, dazed by the collision of our heads. I fight through the pain, sticking my hands into the dirt and pushing myself up. Need to stab him. Need to end the fight.

His boot catches me in the gut. I double over, choking for air as my breath escapes in a rush. Then he grips me by the shoulder and tosses me backwards. I hit the ground and roll, slowly coming back to my sense.

Silve pulls himself up, then reaches down for his spear. I see my opportunity to do the one thing I've wanted to do since this fight began.

I run.

Silve shouts in surprise, but he is too far away to stop me. I streak out into the woods, slamming through vines and pushing through thorns that scrape and tear at my skin. My foot slams into a rock but I don't slow down. Slowness is death.

I gasp for breath and my side aches, but still I don't slow. Silve won't give up that easily. He'll hunt me down and try to finish what he started. Here, he is the predator and I the prey. I need to--

A savage, tearing fire rips across my side. I scream, momentum slamming me against the ground. My head bounces off the dirt and for a moment everything is blurry and unfocused. When my vision slowly returns to normal, I see it.

A figure steps in front of me. Clad in all black and wearing a visored helmet, I first mistake it for a Peacekeeper. But then I see the sword, slightly curved and tainted with blood. My blood.

"Ahh!" The figure steps forward until he is right over me. His voice is strangely muffled and somewhat...static? "I have finally found you! It is a glorious--" He pauses, tilting his head. "No. It appears not. You are...close, but not her."

That voice. I know it! I've only heard it a few times, but I am certain of its owner. Surorian Chaos.

I try to push myself up, but I instantly collapse, a sudden burning pain gripping the right side of my body. I look down and, for the first time in the arena, I am panicked. A long, jagged gash stretches down the side of my body. My skin is torn from shoulder to hip, dark red blood bubbling out and soaking my shirt.

No. No! This wound isn't that bad. I haven't been hit. I haven't! I--I'm going into shock. I realize it even as it happens. Death has never been closer.

My back slumps against a tree as I struggle into a sitting position. I won't just lie down and accept death! I refuse! As I gasp for breath, Surorian kneels beside me. He raises a hand and lifts the visor, revealing his pale face and startlingly violet eyes. These eyes stare deeply into my face. "Yes...you are not her. A pity."

Huh? I blink in confusion as he stands, slamming down the visor and turning as he walks away. What did he mean? For some undiscernable reason my mind latches onto his words. A girl who is similar to me? Is he...talking about her?

Taking a deep breath, I call out to him. "Why are you looking for Corin?"

He stops. Slowly, oh so slowly, he turns around to face me. "What did you say?"

"Why...are you looking for Corin?"

He doesn't move. Doesn't so much as twitch. He just stands there, staring at me through his darkened visor. For a long moment I don't think he'll ever move again. Then he laughs. "You think you know things, do you, little lamb?"

"I know more than you do."

"Oh, do you?" He lifts his visor again, revealing a cruel, mocking smile. "Then I suppose that you know you're the last living citizen of District 14?"

What?

Wait, what?

I stare at him for a long moment, trying to understand his words. What is he even talking about? How could I possibly be the last?

"You look confused," Surorian says, tilting his head. "So let me explain. You see, the Capitol dropped a nuke on your District. It was quite destructive. Yes, the Reaper claimed many lives that day. Many lives indeed."

No. He's lying. He has to be! How could he possibly know what's happening outside the arena? There's no way! He's lying! But...why lie? What would be the point? Surorian smiles, then shuts his visor. "I do not wish to be the one who completes a genocide," he says as he walks away. "So I will not kill you, little lamb. Rejoice! Rejoice!"

Surorian fades from sight. He does not return.

I sit on the forest floor, bleeding and gasping for breath, but very much alive. I don't understand anything that just happened, but I do know one thing. I'm still alive. I'm not dead yet. I can still win this.

But the pain is almost unbearable. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force it away. But all that does is make me think about Surorian's words. District 14. Destroyed. Impossible. The Capitol would never do that. They couldn't afford to, not since all their mutt factories are there. They couldn't...

Why do I care?

What has anyone in District 14 ever done for me? They've always either just ignored me or insulted me. They didn't care about me or my mother. They got my mother killed and no one even batted an eye. They didn't care. They never did.

I'm glad they're all dead!

I find myself laughing as I push myself up. What a turn of events. Who'd have ever thought that I'd be the only person from that wretched District to survive? It's ironic. But what is even more ironic is that I'm not yet safe. Death is knocking at my door, threatening to kick it in.

The whole right side of my body has gone numb. I can't feel anything, not even pain. A distant part of my mind tells me this means I'm dying, but I ignore that voice. I can't die. I've gone too far to die now. Too far.

Fear squeezes my heart as I hear the footsteps. Surorian is coming back! I turn to run but the sudden movement just unsteadies me and I stumble before catching myself on a tree. I can't run. Not enough strength. Not enough energy.

I hold my knife in front of me, surprised to find my hand shaking, and turn to face the returning Surorian.

But it's not Surorian. Silve steps towards me, spear held aloft as he takes in the scene. He spots the blood that drips down one half of my body and narrows his eyes. "What happened?"

My lips tremble and I can barely force the words out. "Surorian. He's gone now, though."

He nods, but I notice how he his eyes continue to survey my surroundings. He doesn't believe me. Silve steps closer, keeping his spear aimed at me. "Why did he leave?"

"Don't know." Silve doesn't need to know about District 14.

He nods again. "Well, I suppose we'll need to finish our fight now. I'd have preferred to beat you without any outside interference, but I suppose that couldn't be helped." He sounds so casual. Like death and murder doesn't mean anything to him.

He reminds me of myself.

"Before we begin," Silve says, continuing to circle around me. "I would like to ask you a question."

"Go ahead." Anything that delays him only helps my chances of winning. But...it's getting hard to think. Black dots swim on the edge of my vision and I sway on my feet. Silve, however, seems unaware of my condition. He seems to have retreated into his own world.

"What is it that drives you?" He asks, staring wistfully at his spear. "What is the meaning of your life?"

Ostracized. Neglected. Ignored. No one ever cared for me and my mother. No one ever stopped to help us. And why would they? I wasn't even meant to exist. I was an abomination. I was supposed to die. I wasn't supposed to live. To survive.

But I did. I never gave up, not when my mother died, not when I was sent into the arena. Life is too precious. No one else wanted me to have it, but it was the one and only thing that I ever desired. I couldn't give it up. I can't give it up.

You can never give up on life.

"You want to know," I whisper, "the meaning of my life?"

Silve nods eagerly. "Yes! I must know!"

"The meaning of my life...is life itself. I live so that I can continue living. So that tomorrow always comes, so that I can see each and every sunrise. I live for the sake of living."

Silve goes still. He stares at me with an expression that is a mix of awe and confusion. Then, inexplicably, he drops his spear. "I am glad you answered me," He says, drawing his knife and dropping into a battle stance. "However, I will still need to kill you. Nothing personal, but those are the rules, you see."

I nod. I know that. That is why I will kill him and go on to win these Games. Life is too important for me to lose it here.

"I will fight you fairly," Silve says, locking eyes with me. "Knife against knife. That is only just."

I hold my knife at the ready, fighting against my body's desire to drop and rest. That seems so easy. Just lie down and sleep. Recover and recuperate...but I can't. Life has never been easy. It shouldn't be easy. I will fight to the end. I will fight until I can't fight anymore.

With one last scream, I charge Silve. My entire life has been a fight to survive. It is only fitting that is also how it ends.

Corin Greer (District 5)
Boom!

A lone cannon pierces the sky. I pull to a halt as, beside me, Cecil stops and wipes his brow. "Someone died," He says.

"Thank you for that observation. I had failed to reach that conclusion myself."

He chuckles softly. "I'm glad I can always count on you for a sarcastic comment!"

I ignore him and turn to examine our surroundings. The mystic grove is thick with foliage and almost impossible to navigate. Birdsong fills the air and there's the occasional chatter of squirrels as they climb amongst the vines overhead. It would be difficult to tell if anyone was following us.

"Think it was Lilah?" Cecil suddenly asks.

I don't take my eyes off the forest. "Think what was her?"

"The cannon. Do you think she was the one who died?" He almost sounds nervous, though I don't know why he would. Despite some minor hiccups, his plan today worked well enough. We got some supplies and lured Silve to the ominous woods. For all we know he may have killed Nylah, just like we wanted.

"Corin?"

I blink and turn to Cecil. He's watching me with those unreadable eyes of his. "What?" I ask.

"You never answered my question."

Oh, right. That. I take a deep breath and shrug. "Who knows? It might have been her. But it might also have been Silve or Nylah. Or maybe Jayda. We have no idea, and guessing isn't going to help." What is Jayda up to, anyway? I still don't trust her, whether we have a truce or not.

"You seem distracted," Cecil sits down on a log. "Why? The mutts didn't hurt you too badly, did they?"

"No, I'm fine." Those mutts were damn hard to bring down. Their massive blows nearly destroyed my shield and my arm is still sore from the beating it took. I've got wounds all over. But I don't have anything serious. Just a few cuts and nicks, mostly on my arms but a few on my legs and face. I have one gash across my temple, curtsy a claw that nearly took out my eye. Dry blood coats my face.

Cecil frowns. "Why so distracted then?"

I shrug again. It's...hard to explain. The Games are winding down and the competition is shrinking quickly, so quickly, that I wouldn't be surprised if there is only a handful of us left by tomorrow. The finale approaches and I fear we are not ready.

But I can't share this fear with Cecil. He depends on me to be the strong one, the one who always looks danger in the face and laughs. I'm supposed to be the confident one. But it's hard to be confident when you consider my opponents. I'm a natural with the sword, true, but I haven't trained my whole life with it like Silve and Surorian have. I won't be able to defeat either in a straight up fight, and even trying would be sheer stupidity. No, if I am to defeat them, I'll need to outsmart them.

I can do that. I'm an intelligent person, after all. I could think of a plan to beat both. But they're not my only opponents. Jayda and Nylah are also out there, and I have no doubt that Jayda is the smartest tribute in the arena. She'll see through any plan I think of. And Nylah has always been one step ahead of me. What makes me think that the next time we meet will be any different?

"Just don't let your guard down," Cecil says, standing up and stretching. "Those mutts came out of nowhere last time; we can't be sure they won't do so again."

"I never let my guard down!" I glare. No one ever sneaks up on me. Well, except for Cecil himself. I'm still not sure how he manages to move so quietly while blind.

His only response is a chuckle. I watch him as he paces between trees, occasionally stopping to listen to the movements of animals. It was his plan for us to scavenge supplies from the cornucopia remains.

While it led to our encounter with the mutts and Lilah, I believe that it was the right decision. We got some decent items, like an extra knife and a bottle of pills. They weren't marked, but I know now that they're painkillers, since after downing one I felt my pain begin to numb. So the haul was decent. But not perfect.

Right before the mutts attacked I saw something that would have changed everything, something that might have given me that extra edge to defeat the others. It was a small black bag. It was lying on the shore of the swamp, half-submerged in the water. It was easy to recognize as I had seen several like it just last night.

A Feast bag.

I didn't get to see what was inside, thanks to those mutts. It was so close! I could have just reached out and grabbed it, claiming it for myself. What did it hold? Something extraordinary? Something mundane? I don't know, but I can't help but wonder. The other tributes surely have bags of their own. I wish I had a way to counteract those.

"What's our plan for the rest of the day?" Cecil asks, pausing his pacing as he passes by me.

I shrug. "Wait it out, I guess." Nothing else to do. Just wait it out and hope to survive.

"Yeah. Okay."

Cecil continues to pace as I sit and stare at the ground, trying to think of something that doesn't make me worried about our lives. It's difficult. Pretty much everything ties back to how we'll have to outlast the rest. It's...hang on.

I stand up and stare out at the sky, which is just visible through the canopy. Something is wrong. The sky, which up until this point had been a strange green color, was no longer so. Now it was just a dead gray color.

"What's wrong?" Cecil asks, walking over. I point at the sky, but then remember he can't see it.

"The sky is gray," I tell him. "And not a cloudy gray either. It's just...an empty gray color." In fact, it hardly even looks like the sky anymore. It's more like a blank concrete wall, completely gray and lifeless. Actually...where's the sun?

The sky is empty and gray, save for a handful of things that look like balls of light. What the hell?

Cecil doesn't see any of this, of course, so I have to explain. When I finish, he merely shrugs. "So what?" He asks. "This is the arena; the Gamemakers mess with stuff all the time. I mean, just look around. You said that this whole grove was strangely colored, right?"

True, I suppose. But still...I feel a sense of unease when I look at that sky. Why did it change? I can't help but feel that there must be a reason. But Cecil is right. There's nothing to be gained by worrying about it. I should just focus on staying alive.

Hopefully the sky doesn't try to kill me.

Topher Celene (District 0)
Topher dragged behind Lilah as she led the way through the forest, never once looking back to see if he was still there. The two of them had been almost constantly moving since their encounter with the Krocs. That had been just after noon, and the current time was a little more than an hour to midnight. They had been walking for hours.

"Do you have a destination in mind?" Topher asked Lilah as she paused to examine her surroundings. He had asked this question several times over the day, but she had yet to respond.

She turned to look at him, as if surprised he was still there. "I don't want anyone to catch us," She said softly, "so I'm making sure I'm constantly moving."

Topher nodded. He could see how she thought that was a valid strategy. However, he very much doubted that anyone was still following her, or if anyone had ever been in the first place. The other tributes were most likely holed up somewhere safe, waiting the rest of the day out.

Instead of saying any of this, however, he chose to simply point out the obvious. "We can't walk around aimlessly forever. Eventually we'll need to rest."

Lilah stared at him, her elegant eyebrows furrowing in concentration. She looked to the sky, which had gone dark with the absence of the sun, and then back to him. "You're right," She admitted. "But I don't know where we could rest. I have a hideout back in the hot springs, but..."

Topher did not have an answer for her. As she began to murmur to herself, he turned away from her and became enraptured with the sight of a nearby flower. It was bright yellow and quite exquisite, with six distinct, basifixed introrse stamens arranged in two whorls of three, each of which varied in length and was rather glabrous. The filaments were shorter than the tepals, and dilated towards their base.

Amazing! He had never seen anything like it before! That was the best part of the arena, he thought. It contained so many things that he had never even thought could exist. Whatever else could be said about the Capitol scientists, they certainly knew how to make beautiful flora.

"Topher?"

He tore his gaze away from the plant, turning back to Lilah. She was standing a bit away, staring out through a gap in the foliage at an empty, barren plain. "Yes?" He asked, striding over.

"This is the burnt forest. We're on the very edge of the mystic grove."

"Ah, yes. I can see that." His eyes wandered over the plain and came to a stop on a pair of trees that had survived the fire. He casually reached out a hand and pointed. "See those trees?"

Lilah frowned, peering out at them. "Yes. Why?"

"Those are aspen trees! Aspen wood is white and soft, but fairly strong, and has low flammability. It has a number of uses, notably for making matches and paper where its low flammability makes it safer to use than most other woods."

Lilah stared at him as if she thought he was insane.

Many people would no doubt agree with that assessment but, in Topher's opinion, it was those people who didn't understand. They didn't see the beauty in nature, the natural wonders that it held. They looked at an aspen and thought "this is a tree" and moved on with their lives. They didn't stop and think about how remarkable it was that the tree had grown the way it did, how it had distinct characteristics that separated it from other trees. They just didn't care.

Lilah was still talking, saying something about crossing the plains and heading for the hot springs, but Topher wasn't listening anymore. She didn't want his opinion. She didn't even want him here. Not really.

Oh, she would pretend and say that she that she thought him useful, if he pressed her on the issue. But she didn't really think that. No, Topher knew that the real reason she kept him around was to use him as a distraction for anyone attacking. He was, to put it bluntly, a meat shield.

Earlier Topher had stopped to think about the issue and, upon the conclusion of several minutes of thinking, decided he was fine with that.

He didn't like when people told him do stuff or when they expected things out of him. He was content to just sit back and follow Lilah. It gave him many opportunities to study the environment, so it was a worthy trade-off. That's what Topher enjoyed best. Except, he wasn't really...

"Why are you still quiet?" Lilah was still staring off across the plains with a distant expression. Her whispered voice sounded pained. "Why won't you answer me?"

She wasn't speaking to him, he knew. She was speaking to the voice inside her head, the one she called Violet. That fascinated him. Did this voice truly exist? Did it really tell her what to do? What would that be like? To have no free will of your own?

Unfortunately, he knew exactly what it felt like.

"Please don't abandon me, Violet!" Lilah was still pleading with empty air as he stepped up behind her. "I still need you! I don't think I can win without you!"

He hesitated for a second, wondering if the voice would respond. But when Lilah bowed her head and let out a quiet sob, he knew that it had not. The voice had not deigned to give advice. A pity.

Lilah reached up to wipe her tears, then turned around. Her brilliant blue eyes stretched wide in surprise as she saw Topher standing right behind her.

He struck.

He thrust out with his knife, the one he had kept hidden in a fold of his skin. He plunged it straight for her heart, intending to make her death quick and painless, but was surprised when she caught his wrist.

She twisted, yanking the knife free from his grip. He watched it drop to the grass, then reeled backwards as Lilah slammed her own knife straight into his chest. He staggered a few paces, wondering if he should try and pull the same trick he used on Zamara.

"I knew you were going to betray me!" Lilah snarled, pulling two more knives from her belt. "Violet warned me! She knew you were trouble!"

Ah! So the voice had not been silent after all. Was Lilah faking, then? Did she feign weakness so that she could draw Topher in and kill him? The theory made sense. She was an assassin, so there was no doubt that she'd have experience with acting.

Lilah began to circle him, eyes shining with a predatory light. "You tried too hard to make yourself look innocent, Topher. That was your mistake. No one is that naive." Oh, if only she knew! "I was planning this all day. I didn't know what kind of skills you possessed, so I had to wait for you to put yourself at my mercy. You should have just left me alone. I had to kill you because you wouldn't leave me alone!"

She was ranting now, completely unaware that she wasn't speaking to the person she thought she was. She fully expected him to drop dead any second now. But would he? That strategy was effective.

No.

The Gamemakers had ordered him to make his kills exciting. Using the same tactic would be boring.

So that is why he did not let himself drop. Instead, he reached up and ripped the knife right out of his chest. There was no blood, as he had not ingested any today. Nor did he have any nerves. Pain would only have made his task harder.

"H-how?" Lilah fell back from him, eyes widening in confusion and fear. "You couldn't have survived that! No way! I stabbed you straight through the heart!"

Topher tossed the knife from hand to hand, wondering how to go about this task. Kill her quickly? Or prolong the fight for maximum excitement?

As Lilah continued to rant, he dropped the guise, letting Topher's face fade back into the skin. New textures quickly formed, taking the place of the old. The angular features of Topher disappeared, replaced by the softer face of Jayda. Nothing could be done about the hair, however. You couldn't just grow it; hair always had to be gathered and carefully cultivated.

He made some quick adjusts to the vocal cords, then spoke. When she did, she spoke with the voice of Jayda, or near enough. "Surprised?"

Lilah's jaw dropped. "You!"

"Yes, me. We've met before, as you remember. Several days past, I believe."

Lilah's face tightened as she adjusted her grip on the knives. "You're not Jayda!" She accused. "And you're not Topher either!"

"Correct." Jayda repeated the changing process, this time adopting the face and voice of Lilah herself. "I am nobody but everybody. Everything and nothing."

Lilah's expression turned to shock. She gaped at the face that was identical to her own. The body was different, of course. You had to completely break down the structure to build a new one, and you were limited to what skeleton you possessed. But people were still remarkably alarmed when they saw their own face plastered on the body of another.

"What are you?" Lilah gasped.

Nahual shrugged, then stepped forward. Lilah, predictably, struck. She swung out with one of her knives, slicing through the bodies neck. Nahual stopped and swayed, giving Lilah the reaction she wanted. It was fake, of course. The only real damage done was to the vocal cords, which would be a pain to repair.

Lilah quickly followed up on her "advantage" by darting forward and slashing her knives across Nahual's chest. Two long gashes formed as the blades ripped through the skin, but no blood formed. No pain blossomed.

Nahual swung out with a fist, connecting with the bridge of Lilah's nose. The girl cried out in pain, stumbling backwards, and Nahual took the opportunity to step in and drive a knife between her ribs.

Here, finally, there was blood. The red liquid squirted from the wound, splattering his hand. He stared at it for a moment, then pulled the blade out and slammed it in a little higher, close to the collarbone.

Lilah wheezed a rasping breath, then tipped over sideways. She hit the ground and did not move.

Nahual stared at the girl's body, wondering what would happen to the voice when she died. Would it fly out and find a new host? Or would it shrivel up and ascend to the Great Unknown?

Lilah croaked, eyes fluttering open. She stared right at Nahual. "Why...? Why did...I have to die? Why...me?"

Nahual paused, working to repair the vocal cords. The damage was intensive, though, so when Nahual spoke the voice was hardly more than a guttural rasp.

"You had to die," Nahual said, bending down over the fallen girl, "because your living could have given everything away. I had no other reason to kill you. I am sorry." He reached down and pried the remaining dagger out of her loose grip. Then, after only a moment's hesitation, he plunged it into her throat.

Task complete.

Jayda Idylwyld (District 3)
My eyes snap open.

Everything is dark. My breath comes in short rasps as I sit up, throwing my head around in a desperate bid to see something, anything. There is nothing but the blackness, endless and eternal.

Am I dead? But no, memories start flooding back to me. Of Lilah and her protests, memories of my plan and how she foiled it. She knocked me unconscious, I think. Hit me in the back of the head with a rock or something, then left me here in the cave. Yes. Yes, that makes sense. Night must have fallen and cut off the light that was illuminating the cave; that is why I can see nothing but blackness.

I sit up, groaning as my head throbs with dull pain. The air is cold and the stone beneath me colder yet. I shiver as I rise on unsteady feet, swaying slightly as I take a few uncertain steps.

Where is Lilah? Certainly she's not just sitting around in this dreadful darkness? I cast my gaze around but I, of course, see nothing. I reach a hand out and am relieved to feel the jagged outline of the wall. I am not swimming in a sea of empty darkness.

"Lilah? I call out softly. "Are you there?"

No answer.

Well, that's mighty inconvenient. Where could she have gone? And why would she just knock me out and leave me? I confess that I at first thought she was attempting to kill me, but the fact that I'm still alive has disabused that notion. If she wanted me dead, I'd be dead right now.

The next question is, of course, exactly why Lilah doesn't want me dead. Sentimentality? Strategy? Surely she doesn't expect me to align with her after she went and knocked me unconscious!

At any rate, it has become apparent that Lilah is not in this cave any longer. So I endeavor to leave, following the length of the wall until it leads me to a small opening, where I feel the movement of wind and see soft white light.

I stumble out into the rocky plains of the hot springs, blinking my eyes as they adjust to the new light source. I sigh in relief, then proceed to check my person for my belongings.

Everything is accounted for, including the Starshatter. I clutch this close to my chest, thanking the heavens that Lilah hadn't stolen. My very life itself might be tied to this weapon. Losing it would have been bad, to say the least.

I take a deep breath, then slide it back into my jacket. I don't know what Lilah is playing at, but I'm not about to abandon all my plans. Not yet, anyway. I still have—

I blink, staring up at the moon. Or at least what I thought was the moon. The sky is barren, dead. There are no clouds, no stars. There is just a plain gray slate of sky, illuminated by the occasional orb of pure white light.

What in the world?

I spend many minutes gawking at this unusual sight. What happened to the sky? The sun? The clouds? What have the Gamemakers done? The sky doesn't even look real anymore. No, it more resembles an empty screen then it does a sky. Almost...almost like a roof.

A roof. That's it! That isn't the sky at all, it's just a roof, a ceiling! I feel like slapping myself for not realizing it immediately. Since entering the arena I have not seen the sun a single time. I've seen light, yes, but it was always hidden behind clouds, so I naturally assumed it was the sun.

But it wasn't. It was merely a Gamemaker trick.

I'm suddenly conscious of the wind that blows against my skin. It has a northerly slant. I hold still, waiting for it to change. It eventually does, adopting a westerly tilt. This confirms my theory. It mimics natural wind, but it is not natural at all. It's too even, too orderly. It never suddenly stops, or makes slight directional adjustments. It is always blowing one way and one way only. The wind is artificial.

The sky is fake. The wind is fake. What does that mean? It can mean only one thing. We are not outside, but inside. We're inside a building!

That...seems like it should matter more than it does. I'm disconcerted by the news, of course, but at the same time I'm conscious of the fact that this doesn't really change anything. The Games will still proceed the same way, regardless of this revelation. Nothing important will be changed.

I must be missing something. Why would the Gamemakers put us inside if it didn't matter? That would just be a waste of resources. No, this reveal matters. I just need to find out how.

I'm interrupted from my thoughts by the sudden blaring of the Anthem. I gaze at the sky, unsurprised to find that this new fake one is just as capable of showing the Seal. I am also unsurprised by the very first face that appears. Zamara's visage lingers in the sky before fading. But what I am surprised about is the face that follows hers.

Lilah.

The breath catches in my throat and I stumble. She's dead? Lilah is dead? But how...? I snap my gaze around, watching the dark shapes of rocks that surround me. Who killed her? And when? She was perfectly fine before! But...the last time I saw her was hours ago. It was still morning when she knocked me out, but it is now midnight. Anything could have happened during the time I was unconscious.

As Lilah's face slowly fades away, I am surprised by the sense of loss I feel. I didn't know her particularly well, and every encounter I had with her was strange and confusing. But still, I am saddened. Is it because she showed concern for me? Perhaps. I don't know why she did, and now I will never know.

I already knew that Carey was dead, so Nylah is the only other face in the sky. I didn't hear any cannon before I was knocked out, so she must also have died during my absence. Who killed her? No idea. Her death is almost as baffingly as Lilah's. Almost.

Lilah is gone, and with her went any possibility of getting information. I will never be able to ask her why she kept me alive, why she did what she did. She didn't want me to throw my life away...why?

I sit down on one of the nearby rocks, ignoring the cold that tingles through me. There is only six tributes left. That fact has finally hit me. The other five tributes are all that stands between me and Victory. Of course, winning wouldn't put an end to the danger, but that's not something I can solve right now. I need to focus on the others.

Silve is the only remaining member of the Careers. He's a threat, straight and simple. Beating him in a fight will be extremely difficult.

Cecil and Corin started these Games as an alliance, and it makes sense that the two of them are still together. That fact makes them almost as big a threat as Silve is. As long as they stick together, killing them will be immensely difficult.

Topher is...well, I'm surprised that he is still alive. I have no idea how he managed to survive the week we've spent in the arena. How has he even been feeding himself? Is he, perhaps, aligned with another tribute? But if so, then who? Certainly not Silve, and I have hard time imagining that Corin and Cecil would accept him. That only leaves...

Surorian. If what Lilah said about him is true, then that means he is undoubtedly the largest threat left in the arena. I don't know if anyone else will be capable of defeating him. My Starshatter is the only thing that gives me a chance. But I'd still say that my odds are low. Extremely low.

Crack!

I'm suddenly thrown forward as the ground beneath me shudders, rocks tumbling from their perches as everything shakes and rattles. I push myself off the trembling ground, forcing myself to stand despite the tremors. What is happening?

A dark, ominous shape is rising out of the swamp. The basin that the cornucopia use to hang over seems to be the source of the shaking, and the immensely large object that is steadily rising out of it is the probable cause.

It keeps moving, slowly yet surely stretching towards the sky. For a long moment I completely stumped as to what it could be. But then I realize. A tower! It's a tower! A tower is rising out of the swamp, pushing past the other biomes and stretching further into the sky.

I stand still, watching in amazement. The tower is made of a square dark stone that seems to suck in the light and use it to give off its own faint luminescence. It rises and rises into the sky, showing no signs of stopping. The base is so wide that it fills up almost the entire swamp.

Eventually it stops. The tower stops extending, though by the time it does it seems to stretch infinitely into the sky. I can't even see the top. Then, as I watch with an uneasy nervousness, tendrils of stone begin to unravel. They spread across the open space that separates the tower and the other biomes, creating a staircase that leads up to the tower itself. Not the top, or even anywhere close to it, but to the part that rests where the cornucopia once stood. As the dust settles and the shaking subsidies, I let out a small gasp.

A tall, imperious tower stands in the center of the arena.

It feels obvious what the Gamemakers want. They wish for us tributes to ascend the tower, to fight each other on our way to the top. They want bloody battles and epic clashes as we all push forward, each one of us eager to be the first to arrive. They want this tower to be an ascension of shame and glory. Despair and hope. Life and death.

I don't know what I will do. I don't know if I will seek out my own demise in a blaze of glory, or fight to try and cling to life. Lilah has complicated what used to be such a simple thing. I wish I could just speak to her and get some answers, but wishing for something that is impossible is useless. No, I can't hold on to the past. I need to look to the future.

I need to ascend that tower.

Auric Venture (Gamemaker)
Auric sat in a small dark room, staring intently at the holographic screen that took up more than half the far wall. On screen, the Nahual sat crosslegged on the floor, eyes closed and humming softly to itself. It did that often, though Auric didn't know why. The creatures mind was impossible to understand.

What was it planning? Or, more accurately, what was the Gamemaker who gave it orders planning? It didn't seem to have done anything overtly suspicious, but the fact it had gone out of its way to dispatch Lilah was...questionable. And its final words for her...something didn't add up.

Auric only wished he knew what that was.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples. In under twenty-four hours the Games would come to an end, a Victor would be decided, and his imprisonment down in these tunnels would come to an end. That should have been something to celebrate, but he just couldn't bring himself to feel any cheer. There was an mystery yet to be solved, and Auric hated unsolved mysteries.

Yet no matter how hard he thought, he just couldn't wrap his head around the current problem. It seemed impossible to guess what the Nahual was up to, and the other Gamemakers weren't doing anything that would bring suspicion on them. In fact, Auric was currently the only Gamemaker who wasn't up in the higher wing celebrating.

A grand Victor celebration had already been planned, an elaborate thing that was supposedly the brainchild of Bridget Idylwyld herself. Everyone who was anyone would be there. Pretty much everyone had been sent an invitation.

Yet somehow Auric had failed to receive one.

He didn't care, not particularly. While it was certainly a slight against him, he failed to see the excitement in attending a party while the country collapsed around you. Oh, he would relax on his own time and take in his own personal pleasures, but he didn't think it wise to celebrate en masse.

Not when Panem itself was about to collapse.

He had received reports recently, and none of them were good. District 14 was lost, and along with it, their mutts. There would be no new creations. No reinforcements. The muttations they had in the field were the only ones left. The situation in the other District's was just as bleak. The Capitol had already pulled the bulk of their forces from the frontlines, leaving the outlying District's to their fates.

District 11 was a hive of wretched rebels.

District 10's commander, Kane Brunus, had disappeared and was presumed dead. The remaining Peacekeeper forces were in disarray.

13 and 12 were completely destroyed.

District 9 and 8 were overrun with rebels and Blackcloaks alike.

The only District's that the Capitol hadn't withdrawn from where 1, 2, 3, 5, and 0. The inner circle was still safe, for now, and District 0 was a frozen hellscape that apparently no one wanted.

In short, the Capitol was losing. And losing badly.

With a wearied sigh, Auric rose to his feet. Even if his death was assured, he intended to see his task through to the end. It was time to give the Nahual its daily orders. There was a chance, albeit small, that it would slip up and give something away. Or maybe it would just outright tell Auric what it was doing. There was no way to predict what it would do, after all.

Auric made his way down to the Chamber of Repose, treading the familiar path with a heavy heart and light pockets. He had bet heavily on Nylah, yet she had failed him. Perhaps that was the true source of his melancholy.

He whisked past the Peacekeepers on duty, giving them only a cursory nod. Since learning that another Gamemaker had visited the Nahual, Auric had gone out of his way to make sure that the only Peacekeepers to guard the chamber were loyal to him—and his money.

Auric had also installed new cameras, ones that only he had access to. He set some in the hallways leading to the chambers, some near the elevators, and one in the chamber itself. His new security measures were neat and thorough. If anyone else were to try and approach the Nahual, he would know.

So far, no one had

That was the strangest part, he thought. Why wouldn't they have tried to revist the Nahual? Were the orders conveyed well enough the first time? Perhaps they had only wanted Lilah and Zamara dead? Or, more likely, they had simply realized that Auric was onto them and chosen to hide themselves accordingly.

At any rate, there was no point in speculating. Even if he did guess correctly, there would be no way of knowing that guess was correct. No, Auric simply had to sit back and wait. The culprit would out themselves eventually. They always did.

Auric patiently went through the security doors, then stepped in the bare white room where the Nahual waited. Like usual, it sat crosslegged in the center of the room, eyes shut tight. "You have arrived," It said simply.

"I have."

"You bring today's orders?"

"I do."

The creatures eyes flickered open. Today these eyes were a vivid blue. "You seem uneasy," The Nahual spoke slowly, carefully. It tilted its head, seemingly sensing the air, like some sort of hunting dog. "You are unsettled."

Auric shifted from foot to foot, feeling every bit as uneasy as it said. Could the Nahual sense emotions? He didn't remember. "That doesn't matter," He said, deciding to just brush the statement aside. "The only thing that matters is your orders."

The Nahual nodded, leaning back. Today it wore the body of a curvaceous young woman, with a long neck, round head, and a small pointed nose. Auric didn't understand how it chose what to appear as; each body could be drastically different from the last. Though it did seem to take certain forms more often than others.

"Your orders," Auric forced himself to sound as commanding as he usually did, "are to enter the arena and harass the tributes in any manner you see fit. However, you will not kill anyone. Certain viewers are a little put off by the randomness of your attacks, and we do not wish for you to impact the finale too heavily." None of the other Gamemakers had made any objections when Auric brought this up, none of them had done anything to give themselves away. Would the Nahual? Auric watched closely, wondering if it would have a reaction.

The Nahual didn't give any outward sign of displeasure or agitation, it simply looked as it always did; indifferent. "Very well. Am I allowed to inflict bodily harm?"

"Yes. Though you should take great care to ensure that any wounds you inflict are not fatal." Auric felt like he should be more precise, but he wasn't exactly sure how to. "Just don't do anything too drastic, alright? You should try to make as little impact as possible." Was that enough?

The Nahual nodded, then mumbled softly. "Fatum Iustum Stultorum..." Auric perked up. "What was that?"

The Nahual turned to look at him, its eyes blank and empty. "Nothing," It said softly. "I was merely reciting an...acquaintance."

Auric blinked, confused. Acquaintance? Was it talking about the Gamemaker who had given it orders? He waited for it to say more, but it merely rose to its feet and turned, headed for the door that would take it into the arena. That action surprised Auric. The Nahual rarely, if ever, ventured out into the arena before adopting the guise of a tribute.

"Are you not going to transform?" He called after it.

The creature paused, then spoke without even turning around. "I will transform in the arena," it said softly, "after all, I have the everything I require right here." It patted a satchel that hung from its shoulders.

Auric shivered. Though he was accustomed to how the Nahual transformed, he was still not quite comfortable with it. The Nahual didn't unsettle him like it did the other Gamemakers, but that didn't mean he was totally unaffected by its peculiarities.

The Nahual stopped at the base of the doublewide, blast-proof doors. It stood there, waiting patiently. The doors would not open until a Gamemaker—probably Auric—went up to the Command Center and entered the thirty-six letter passcode. He should have gone to go do so, but something held him back. Auric lingered, watching the Nahual.

"Why do you always adopt the form of a human?" He finally asked. It was something that always intrigued him. The Nahual's natural form wasn't humanlike at all, rather, it was hardly anything more than an amorphous blob. If it were to absorb the right tissue, it could transform into literally anything. Yet it always chose to be human. Why?

For a long moment there was no answer. When the Nahual finally did respond, its voice was soft and barely audible. "Are you demanding an answer from me?"

"No. Not particularly."

"Good."

That was the end of the conversation. Auric left the Nahual where it stood and exited back through the security doors. He made his way back up to the higher floors, passing by the room where the other Gamemakers waited, watching the Games and making friendly wagers. He stopped at the entrance. Should he try and weasel more information out from them?

No. There wasn't a point. Auric moved on, returning to his chambers and plopping himself down onto his bed before switching the television on. It showed the Games, of course. Right now Surorian was making his way towards the tower, apparently eager to be the first to enter.

Auric frowned as he watched the boy. Actually, no. Boy wasn't the right word. Surorian was a man, and a deadly and deranged one at that. He could be a useful tool, true, but he was so erratic that Auric wouldn't trust him to hold his wine.

Auric flicked his finger and changed his viewpoint, swapping between each of the remaining tributes. Silve was busy arming himself with his sponsor gifts, while Topher slowly followed Surorian from a distance. It was a good strategy, that. He could sit back and watch while Surorian defeated all his competition, then swoop in at an opportune moment. Many a tribute had employed this tactic successfully. Would Topher?

Auric flipped to the last tributes. Cecil and Corin were together, of course, and heading straight towards Jayda. Interesting things were bound to happen here.

Interesting things indeed.

Corin Greer (District 5)
The air is filled with tension so thick that I swear I can taste it. It bears down on me, dark, oppressive, and full of foreboding. Each step I take feels heavier than it should, and my body is covered in nervous sweat.

The Games are nearly over. The finale is upon us. That's the only thing I can take away from the appearance of that tower, the only thing I can think of. By the end of the day, if not sooner, all but one of us six tributes will be dead.

That, unfortunately, includes Cecil.

He walks alongside me, his feet sure and steady as he matches me pace for pace. His sightless gaze is fixes on the far horizon, where the gray sky of the arena melts with the forcefield. The fact that he made it this far is amazing. Beyond amazing. By all rights he should have died during the bloodbath, but somehow he has managed to cling to life. He's fought tooth and nail to make it this far, to the finale. He seeks to win. I know it, he knows it, everyone knows it. Cecil wants to be the one to survive.

He won't. I can't let him. If it comes down to it, I'll kill him myself. I can't let him win, because him winning means I die. I can't die. I won't die. So that means Cecil will die in my place, when the time comes.

"What if she doesn't want to join with us?" Cecil pulls to a sudden halt. He runs a hand through his dusky hair, a nervous tic of his that I've only recently noticed.

I stop just a few feet ahead of him, peering out at the rocky landscape of the hot springs. "Wasn't this your idea?"

He frowns. "I thought it was both of our ideas."

"You're the one who stopped me from killing her days ago," I say, a little more gruffly than I intended. "So, yes, this is technically your idea." I don't trust Jayda. The girl is too intelligent to trust, for one, but there's also the fact that she's just as aware of the number of Victors as we are. She knows that we can't all win, so that means--if she even agrees to join us--she'll have a contingency plan to kill us.

While I can't exactly blame her for that--I'm already thinking of ways to kill her myself--it does nothing to help the sense of unease I feel at relying on her help. Unfortunately, we don't have much of a choice.

Surorian and Silve are both too much of Cecil and I to handle alone. Out of the thiry-two of us that started this game, they're the only two tributes who I thought could best me in a sword fight. And it has become increasingly obvious that I'll have to do just that if I want any hope of winning. With Cecil's help I'd probably be able to beat one of them, but both? Not a chance.

"She'll join us," Cecil says, more to himself than me, "she'll have to."

I just roll my eyes. What was the point of doubting himself earlier? I don't say anything to him, though, and instead focus on continuing forward. I go only a few paces before Jayda suddenly appears.

She pulls herself up over a rock and freezes, eyes going wide as she spots Cecil and I. Cecil, obviously unable to tell who she is, goes reaching for his weapons. I grab his hand just before he pulls out his shuriken, then turn to Jayda. "Does our truce still stand?"

The girl blinks owlishly, then slowly nods. "I...yes. I have no desire to fight you, at any rate." Of course she doesn't. The two of us would make short work of her. In fact, it'd be so easy that I'm tempted to just kill her, right here and now. But there is a reason why I need her help.

"We need your help," Cecil cuts in before I can say anything. "If any of us want a chance of winning, we need to band together!"

"I agree completely."

I frown. Didn't think that we'd get her acceptance so easily, but then, she's probably realized the same thing that we have. Surorian and Silve are just too strong for any of us to beat individually.

I let myself take in Jayda's appearance, noting her weapons and items. She holds a large battleaxe in her hands and has two smaller axes on her belts, their hafts looped through the openings. She keeps glancing down at her jacket pocket, which gives me the impression that she has a weapon hidden there. A knife, probably.

"So...what now?" Jayda breaks the awkward silence that has enveloped us. I glance at Cecil, but he's staring wistfully off into the distance, thumbs tucked into his belt.

"We go after Surorian," I tell her. "What else?"

She frowns. "That is not much of a plan. Not a plan at all, really. More of an objective than a plan."

I scowl. "Do you have a plan?"

"Not really," she says, smiling ruefully.

"Have you seen any mutts?"

Jayda and I both spin around, surprised to hear Cecil speaking. He's staring at Jayda's face, analyzing her with calm eyes. At first I'm confused, but then I remember the impostor. It would be only too possible for this Jayda to be yet another fake.

"Mutts?" She asks. "Why do you ask? Are you looking for any specific kind?"

Cecil just shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. We should just get a move on. Who knows what the Gamemakers will do if we don't hurry?"

We set off, heading towards the massive tower that looms over the entire arena. The black spire is seemingly endless, piercing all the way up and into the sky. Where does it lead? It's obvious that we're meant to head for the summit, but why?

Jayda and Cecil are quiet as we walk. They stand on opposite sides of me, something that I think was intentional. Cecil put myself between them for safety reasons. Neither says anything. The only sound is the soft patter of our footsteps on the hard rock below.

"It's hard to believe everyone else is dead," Jayda suddenly speaks. Her voice is soft and quiet as she stares out at the tower with sad eyes.

"Not really," I say with a shrug. "I always planned to outlive them, so I'm not surprised that it has happened."

Jayda throws me a look that is a mix of pity and disgust. She opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it, obviously thinking better of it. We continue on for a few more paces before she speaks again. "Do you know what happened to Lilah?"

"Lilah?"

"The District 8 girl. You should know her. She was Cecil's district partner, after all."

"I know who she is. Or, I guess, was." There's a few more steps of silence. "Why do you care what happened to her?" I finally ask.

"She was my ally, of sorts."

I pull to a halt. Nearby, Cecil does the same. Confused, Jayda also stops, her head turning to face both of us at once. "What?" She asks.

"We saw her yesterday," Cecil admits. "She, uh, attacked us. We were fighting some mutts when she showed up out of the blue and charged Corin. I think she might actually have been the one who set the trap I got caught in."

"You killed her?" Jayda asks, her voice emotionless.

Cecil shakes his head. "No. She ran away before the fight with the mutts even ended. We don't know what happened after that."

Jayda nods, still as stoic and emotionless as ever. I grind my teeth, wondering just what she is thinking right now. Does she believe us? And, if she doesn't, what will she do about it?

"If you didn't kill her," She says after a long pause, "then that means Silve or Surorian must have."

I relax my grip and let my sword lower back to the ground. I hadn't even realized I was raising it. That's the end of our conversation. No more words are said we we finish our journey towards the tower. It only takes a few moments before we're standing on the edge of the cliff that formerly looked down into the swamp.

The base of the tower completely fills the basin, practically erasing the swamp from existence. The only remnants of it left are the stains of mud smeared across the towers side.

"Guess that means we won't be able to salvage any more supplies," I mutter.

"So what's the play?" Cecil asks. He stands on the very edge, gazing out at the tower with sightless eyes.

I eye the large, broad staircase that leads up to a set of equally wide doors. The tower is truly enormous; it practically blots out the entire western horizon. Are we suppose to climb that?

"There's only one thing we can do," Jayda says. She walks forward, taking the first few steps up the staircase. She doesn't slow down or look back. She just keeps climbing. I sigh and begin to follow.

"Corin?"

I turn to see Cecil watching me with a look that is more than a little apprehensive. "Yeah?" I ask.

"What if someone is waiting for us inside?"

I shrug. "Let's hope that they are. I'd rather finish this fight now then spend the rest of the day worrying about it." And better to finish this fight now, when we're all still fresh. That's our best chance of winning.

Cecil sighs. "Well, I guess you're right. Let's finish this."

I allow myself a wry smile. "Yes. Let's do it."

Jayda Idylwyld (District 3)
My stomach is twisting itself into a knot as I stand before the doublewide doors that lead inside the tower. So much has happened these past few days in the arena, but I'm sure that even more has happened outside it. How fares the war? Is the Capitol winning? Or is it on the brink of collapse? There's only one way to find out...and that involves winning these Games.

I can hear the quiet voices of Corin and Cecil as they converse behind me. I don't trust either of them, but I am beyond the point where trust matters. Surorian is dangerous, and I'll need their help in dispatching him.

"I am going to open the doors," I say, interrupting their conversation. "Are you ready?"

Corin is the one to respond. "We're ready."

I nod, then reach out for the knobs with trembling hands. What will we find inside? Have the Gamemakers set any traps, or are the only dangers from the other tributes? Brushing the thought aside, I turn the knobs and push the doors open.

They swing aside to reveal a wide, square room built out of the same solid stone as the rest of the tower. A tight spiral staircase takes up most of the rooms center, leading up through the ceiling and beyond. A small table sits off to the side, surrounded by a handful of rickety chairs.

"Doesn't look like anyone else is hear," Corin says softly, stepping forward to run a hand along the length of the table.

I shake my head. "No. Someone else has definitely already been here."

"How can you tell?" Cecil asks as Corin spins around, sword raised as if she thinks someone is about to spring out and attack her.

I point to the floor, where streaks of mud are just barely visable on the dark stone. "That came from someone's shoes," I say, letting my eyes follow the tracks. They lead towards the staircase, and then up to a higher floor. "And, whoever it was, they've already moved on."

Corin and Cecil move to join me at the base of the staircase. Out of the corner of my eye I see a third figure move to join them. My head jerks back and I'm about to shout a warning when I recognize the figure; Callie.

My shout turns into a hiss of frustration. Corin narrows her eyes at me, but doesn't say anything. Callie! When was the last time I've even seen her? I can't remember. Sometime in the arena, I think. Or was it just before that? Either way, the fact that my visions have returned now, after I've been suppressing them for so long, shows that my nerves have been frayed beyond belief.

"Are you okay?"

I blink, turning to see Cecil watching me with those wide blue eyes. I squeeze my eyes shut and nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just...just a little nervous."

"Understandable."

"We don't have time for this!" Corin shoves her way between us, making her way up the first few steps. "While we stand here blabbing someone could come in through those doors and attack us!"

She's right. I had completely forgotten that it's still possible for another tribute to still be outside the tower. They could very easily be making their way over here as we speak!

"Do we set a trap for them?" I ask, thinking out loud.

Corin shakes her head. "No. I'm pretty sure that the Gamemakers want us to reach the very top. The sooner we get there, the better."

I can't argue with that logic, and neither can Cecil. We unconsciously adopt a defensive formation as we begin to ascend the stairs. I take point, leading the way up. Cecil stands in the middle, fiddling with his shurikens, and Corin holds the rear, moving up the stairs backwards as we go.

My battleaxe is loose in my hands, palms damp with sweat. I can't remember the last time I was this nervous. I wish I could just fast forward to the end, where I wouldn't have to worry about the anticipation that feeds on the moments before battles.

The staircase continues spiralling upwards for many dozens of steps. I try counting, my quickly lose track with my frayed mind. All I know is that the staircase is long. Very long.

Neither Corin nor Cecil say anything as we ascend. Their focus is razor sharp, and they seem to communicate with another without words. That worries me. What if they decide to betray me?

I'm too busy thinking this to realize that the staircase has ended. I stumble over the last step, hit the ground, and slide across the now smooth floor into the second story. I quickly scramble back to my feet as Corin and Cecil rush into the room.

It's practically identical to the first, with yet another staircase spiralling upwards and an identical table resting in the corner of the room. "How many floors are there?" Corin grunts.

I shrug. "From outside the tower looked very tall. I wouldn't be surprised if there were a dozen more floors just like this."

As it turns out, my prediction is more true than I'd have hoped. No matter how many flights of stairs we ascend, there's seemingly no end. We pass through several more of the same identical rooms on our journey upwards. But that's not the end. We continue onwards, moving through more and more floors.

My body is stiff with tension, my neck sore from constantly craning it around to look for threats. Stress claws a route through my chest and into my lungs, threatening to suffocate me. Where are the other tributes? At least one of them is ahead of us, that's for sure, but what about the others? Are they moving up the staircases behind us right now?

I try to push these thoughts out of my head and concentrate on my current task. It doesn't matter where the others are. Not until they confront us.

We've easily passed over a dozen floors when Corin calls for a stop.

"How many damn floors are there?" She growls as she climbs up past Cecil and strides inside the next floor. "If things don't change soon then I'm--"

She cuts off as she finally noticed what I have. The room is still basically identical to all the others, but there's one big difference. There's two staircases.

"Which one do we take?" I break the silence to ask the obvious question.

"Do they both lead to the same place?"

"Probably not. That'd negate the need for two separate staircases."

We try to see what the difference between the staircases are but, try as we might, we can find nothing conclusive. We even climb each one to observe the rooms above, but that proves equally useless when all we discover is two more identical rooms.

"We should just choose one and move on," Cecil tells us. "There's little point fretting over a decision we don't understand."

There's some logic to that, I must admit. But still, I am loath to continue on without any idea as to what our ultimate destination will be. What if one of the paths leads to a trap?

Corin, however, has no such qualms. She strides forward and takes the leftmost staircase without a moment's hesitation. Cecil follows and I, after an agonizing few seconds of indecision, decide to come along. There'd be little point in abandoning my "allies" after all.

When I reach the top of the staircase, I find that Corin and Cecil are both standing rigidly still, staring at something I can't see. Confused, I push my way between them. "What's going on? Why have you..." The words die on my lips. Standing in the center of the room, holding a sword in one hand and a wickedly spiked shield in the other, is Surorian.

"Lo and Behold! Here she arrives, ready and able to fight, eager to see the bloody end that has been set for her!"

Surorian looks just as I imagined he would. Tall, imposing, and outfitted in a black suit of formfitting armor. His helmet, the one that Lilah told me about, is securely fastened to his head. The visor is down, making it impossible to see his face behind the darkened nano-plastic.

"Who're you talking about?" Cecil's voice rips me out of my thoughts. Corin has already stepped forward, placing herself between him and Surorian.

"A lion does not concern himself with the questions of sheep!"

Then, before I can even process his words, he's darting forward, impossibly quick. His sword goes flashing for Corin's head only to be deflected by her own parry. Unperturbed, Surorian thrusts out his shield, spikes first.

Corin meets the attack with her own shield, the spikes sinking deeply into its surface. Surorian growls in fury, then drops his shield, whipping out a knife with his left hand. Corin, suddenly hampered with the weight of Surorian's shield stuck to her own, isn't fast enough to dodge his next swing. She falls to the ground with a cry as the blade cuts across her thigh.

All of this happens in seconds. But while I stand around stupidly gawking, Cecil acts. In quick succession he flings three shurikens straight at Surorian. One pings harmlessly off his helmet, the other two strike his chest before bouncing away.

Surorian whips around to face us.

Cecil pales. "Oh crap!"

Cecil reaches into his belt for a knife, but there's no time. Surorian is racing across the room, sword out and flashing right towards...me!

I dive forward just in time, the blade slashing down and smashing into the wooden floor where I was standing only seconds ago. I turn to try and get my bearings, but before I can even do so there's a burning sensation in my leg and I stagger down to one knee. Blood pools down my right calf, stemming from a large gash. I gasp as Surorian looms over me. Lazily, almost contemptuously, he raises one hand and backhands me across the face.

My vision explodes with light. I feel myself skittering across the floor, coming to a halt as I thump against the far wall. Head throbbing, vision pulsating, I force myself into a sitting position and watch as Corin moves to confront Surorian. She's dropped her shield, holding her sword in both hands as she limps forward, obviously favoring one leg.

She's going to die. I realize that even as I reach down into my belt and retrieve the Starshatter. She's not good enough, not strong enough. Surorian turns to face her, his sword blazing an arc for her head.

"Corin!"

Cecil is there in an instant. He slams into Corin's side, shoving her away as the sword comes down. He screams as the blade bites down into his shoulder, ripping its way down past his chest.

Cecil crumples like a paper doll.

He does not get back up.

Corin is screaming, howling, raging. I can hear her despair as I toggle the options on the Starshatter, hoist it over my shoulders, then heave. Surorian turns just in time to see it explode. I bury my face in my arm and squeeze my eyes shut tight, but even then I still see a brief flash of light, followed by a high-pitched whining.

I have only seconds. I leap to my feet, unslinging an axe from my belt as I do, and look around for Surorian. There! He's standing at the edge of the room, swaying unsteadily as clumsy hands grasp for the fastenings that hold his helmet in place. The helmet that I've just shut off.

I take my axe and, with one, loud roar of fury, I heave. The heavy blade slams into the side of Surorian's helmet, followed by a loud crack! as a wide fissure forms at the base of the blow. As Surorian reels back from the concussive blow, I let loose with a second swing.

The helmet explodes, shattered pieces flying across the room as Surorian drops like a sack of stones. He hits the stairs with a thunk, then proceeds to roll downwards, his body thumping as he hits each and every step. I follow him down, fear forgotten in my blaze of righteous anger. The Capitol! I'll show them what I think of their damn tribute!

But, when I reach the bottom, I find that I have very little to do. Surorian lies in a misshapen heap at the bottom of the stairs, his limbs splayed at odd angles and his head resting in a pool of blood. His scalp is drenched in the muted red liquid. Does that mean he's...

Boom!

A cannon goes off. But for Surorian or Cecil? Suddenly terrified, I hurry back up the stairs, heart beating in pace with my steps. I explode up into the room, head spinning as I look for Cecil. I find him lying propped up against the wall, Corin at his side. His eyes wide and glossy, chest heaving as he struggles for each breath. So, he's alive...

"Jayda!"

Ignoring Corin's shout, I turn and stride back down the staircase. Surorian's body is still where I left it. "Dead after all..." I murmur to myself, bending down to pluck the knife from his hand. "You won't be needing this. Not anymore."

When I return to the next floor, Corin spins to glare at me. "You conniving little bitch!"

"What?" Stunned, all I can do is stop and stare. I must have misheard her. Surely she didn't just say what I thought she did. I stop and fix her with a inquiring look. "Are you...feeling okay?"

"Did you have that this whole time?" Corin ignores my question. Standing up, she fixes me with a glare that could fell giants. "Did you have a weapon like that, and not tell us about it!"

Oh. Oh...I feel my heart rate increase, adrenaline pumping through my veins, my body felling not at all different from how it felt when I fought Surorian. I hadn't envisioned this. Somehow, in my scheme to win these Games, I had completely forgotten to calculate how Corin would react if she found out I had mislead her.

That could prove to be a fatal miscalculation.

"If you had told us you had that we could have taken Surorian down instantly!" Corin quivers with rage, spittle flying from her mouth. "But no! You hid it from us! And because of that Cecil is going to...he's going to..."

I glance at the fallen boy. His face has gone deathly pale, and his breathing is heavily laboured. Each breath seems to weaken him further. He won't make it to the end, I realize. He won't win.

The fact that this revelation brings me joy...it makes me hate myself.

"I didn't think it was important," I say, all too aware how weak that argument is. Truthfully, I didn't want them to know. What if they stole it? They wouldn't have needed me then. And there's only one thing you do to an unnecessary person in the arena...

"I'm going to kill you!" I flinch back as Corin steps towards me. I don't want to kill her. I don't want to kill her.

But I will. Oh, I will. I have no choice. I cannot die here. My family needs me. Perhaps the entire country needs me. If I need to have this girls death on my conscience to live...so be it.

"Corin..."

We both turn at the sound of Cecil's voice. The boy, somehow, has found the strength to stand. He struggles a few steps, then falls. Corin is immediately there to catch him. As she slowly lowers him to the floor, I realize that I have an opportunity here. Two opportunities, in fact.

I could kill Corin...or I could run.

I feel the weight of the axe in my hand, already slick with Surorian's blood. Killing Corin would, in effect, kill Cecil. I would singlehandedly take out three tributes within minutes. Silve would be the only obstacle left in my path to Victory....

As I watch Corin kneel beside Cecil, talking softly to him, I see her. Standing just over their shoulders and watching me with sad, remorseful eyes, I see Callie. Suddenly, I break.

The sight of her breaks me. I can't kill Corin. Not like this.

Breathing deeply, I turn and run up the stairs. I hear Corin give a shout of surprise, but I know she won't chase me. She won't abandon Cecil. So, as I sprint up the stairs that will lead me to my destiny, I know that the only thing I have to fear is the path ahead of me.

Topher Celene (District 0)
I huddle beneath the simple oaken table, feeling lost and alone. Oh, that is not a new feeling. I have felt lost and alone my entire life. I haven't always admitted those feelings, but they've been inside me regardless.

I had always thought that my former life back in District 0 had been as like living in a cage. A gilded cage, certainly, but a cage nonetheless. It had shielded me from the truth of reality, and I had grown to detest that cage, wishing to see the world for what it truly was.

Oh, how naive I was.

The world is ugly and full of scars. Not the natural world, that's beautiful enough. No, it's the people that inhabit this world that mar its beauty. Pitiful, broken people who seek to either bring harm to others or to merely claw their way to the top of a self-made chain of power. There are outliers, yes. People like Emma, Nicholas, and Zamara. People who seek only peace and tranquility for all, people who do not wish to cause harn to anyone. People like them are the true beauty of humanity.

People like them always die.

I have seen it happen too many times to deny this truth. The good people get stamped out, trodden on, defeated. They die in their quest to live meaningful lives. Those people--my friends--are not permitted in this cruel, hard world.

Tears slide down my cheeks as I stare out at the cold, hard stone that is the floor, ceiling, and walls of this tower. Zamara was my last ally, yet I do not even know what has become of her. The last time I saw her was when she set out to the Feast. She died there, certainly, but I do not know how by whose hand.

I look back on that time with profound distress. I had tried warning her about losing herself, yet...it turned out that I was the one who lost myself.

All of my life I've had this intrinsic joy that existed merely because I enjoyed living and learning everything that life had to offer. But now I have experienced the true ugliness that is part of life. The raw, visceral malice that lurks beneath the slim veneer of human nature. I have seen it...and I fear it has damaged be beyond repair.

Footsteps echo from somewhere in the tower, speeding sounds of feet slapping against the ground. Either above or below me, I cannot tell. The tower becomes more complex after the twentieth floor, when the staircases split in two. Then, ten floors after that, the two split into four. Stairs and landings crisscross each other, forming a complex layer of pathways that I meekly followed Surorian through. I stopped following him at the fiftieth floor, choosing to hide under a table and wait for...

What? What am I waiting for? The other tributes to murder each other? For the last one to drop dead and have me declared Victor?

Foolish. I am oh so foolish.

The footsteps fade and I am left to the morose silence. A single cannon has sounded so far. I do not know who died. I try not to think who. The very thought of anyone dead is like a knife being driven through my chest. I do not want any more sorrow, any more pain.

I have hidden myself away ever since Zamara died. I have hidden from the other tributes, only encountering a single one in the past few days. Silve had denied me an alliance, and thus, denied me any real possibility of human interaction. Any one I meet at this point will merely try and kill me. Despite my newly sponsored weapons, I know that they will be successful.

Thumping footsteps sound on the staircase below me. This time I know that they will come to my floor. Feeling weak, I gather my weapons and crawl out from beneath the table. The heroes in the story never died while hiding under a table. Neither will I.

"You again?"

Silve appears before I even regain my feet. He stands on the topmost step, watching me with eyes that shine with a renewed sense of purpose. I can only smile weakly. "I assume you have not changed your mind about that alliance?"

Silve narrows his eyes. "I spared you once. I will not do the same again."

I splay my hands to the side. "Alas, I did not think you would." The hero wouldn't fight him. The hero would find a way to make an ally of him.

Silve steps forward, brandishing a sword in one hand and a long dagger in the other. I do not know what to do, so I do nothing. Silve frowns. "Aren't you going to defend yourself?"

"I would only fail." A hero would never give up without a fight.

He grunts in surprise. "So you won't even try? Where's your honor? Your sense of self-preservation?"

"Dead, I suspect. Soon I will follow." A hero always fights fair. A hero never disarms.

I throw my cleaver to the ground.

Silve shakes his head, eyes darkening with some unknown emotion. "Seems you've lost your will to live, just as I found mine."

"Is that so." A hero is someone like Silve. Someone who persists through life's hardships and carves his own path.

Silve nods. "Yes. Nylah showed me something. It was so simple, yet so extraordinary." He looks lost in thought, eyes misting over with remembrance. A hero would never take advantage of such a moment.

But I'm not a hero.

I never was.

I swing out with my left hand and, with the spork clutched firmly within, I smash into Silve's face. He screams as the spork pierces flesh, driving through the skin of his cheek. I kick out with a leg and catch him between the legs. As he falls to the ground, screaming out a curse, I snatch up my cleaver and sprint up the nearest staircase.

I'm no hero. I'm just a frightened boy, inhabiting a world that does not care for frightened boys or there friends. A world that will crush you the moment it can. A cruel, harsh world.

Tears flood my eyes as I run from the truth.

Corin Greer (District 5)
Cecil's breath comes in short, rasping bursts as he leans against the wall, using a lone hand to staunch the flow of blood. "I'm fine," he tells me for the umpteenth time, "I'm fine. I just...need some time to rest. I'll...I'll..."

He is not fine. I know it, he knows, the viewers know it. The wounds that he has received are beyond my capacity to heal, perhaps beyond anyone's. Cecil will not live much longer.

It's hard to breath. To think clearly. My body trembles with rage and helplessness. I am useless. Why can't I help him? Why couldn't I have defeated Surorian? I would say it's my fault, but it's not. It's Jayda's fault. She had a secret weapon and hid it from us. Cecil is dying because of her!

"Don't let anger cloud your judgment," Cecil rasps. "You need...to think clearly if you want to win..."

I blink, surprised to find tears in my eyes. When was the last time I cried? Was it...was it when Elijah died? I look down to see that Cecil is staring into the distance, waiting for my response. He is still blind. He can't see my tears

"I'm not angry," I lie.

He smiles. "No, you're right. You're not angry. You're furious."

Cecil always could read me better than he should have. Can always tell my emotions. Only Genevieve and Elijah could ever do that, and they'd each known me for years. But Cecil...he was a friend. A great friend. Perhaps the best friend I ever had.

Why am I thinking like he is already dead?

"You need to keep moving," Cecil says, looking at the staircase. "The others will reach the top before you, if you stay here."

"I'm not leaving you."

"I'll catch up. You just...you need to get there before Silve or Jayda. They could...set a trap for you...otherwise."

He won't catch up. His wounds are too deep for that. If I leave Cecil now, I won't ever see him again. I'll hear his cannon, but I won't see his death. Would that...would that lessen the pain?

"W-we agreed not to split up."

"This is only temporary. I...already told you I'd catch up...didn't I?"

There's no logical reason for me to stay at his side. He'd only hold me back and make himself an easy target for the others. But I can't just abandon him either! But...is it abandonment? When he's so weak? No. It's not. I've always thought about how I would do whatever it took to win, even if that included killing Cecil. So if I was willing to kill him, why wouldn't I leave him?

I slowly stand up. It's a hard decision, but it's the only one that makes sense. There's no point in trying to drag him up the stairs with me. No point at all.

"You were a good friend, Cecil," I tell him as I turn to face the stairs. "One of the best I ever had." He'll never know how much those words mean. How few people are worthy of being my friend.

He smiles at me. "And you're one of my best friends too."

I nod mutely. I don't trust myself to speak. How would he react if he knew that I'd already accepted the fact that I would kill him? That, buried beneath my pain, I feel a sense of relief that he is dying, dying before I had to kill him?

Would he still call me a friend, if he knew?

"I'm going to win," I find myself unable to keep the emotion out of my voice. "I'm going to kill Jayda, Silve, and whoever else I may need to kill. I'm going to win. So don't worry, Cecil. One of us is still going to win."

"I always knew that you would."

I nod, then take a step towards the staircase. But something holds me back. Unsure, I turn and walk back to Cecil. He frowns in confusion. "I'm sorry," I whisper as I wrap him in a hug. "I'm sorry for everything."

Then, before he can say anything in response, I turn and run up the stairs.

My body is on autopilot as I hurtle up the spiralling staircases, whipping past ever more of the identical rooms. I hold my knife in one hand, my shield in the other. Both are numb. Perhaps my exit was too hasty, but I can't focus on that right now. I can only concentrate on one thing.

Winning.

Eventually the stairs begin to branch into several different paths. I pause for only the faintest moment before choosing one of the paths at random and continue my path upwards. I know why these crisscrossing stairs exist. The Gamemakers want us confused and lost, so that we may accidentally run into each other. I wouldn't mind running into someone else. I'm angry. Furious.

Someone needs to die. No, everyone needs to die.

Floors upon floors go by as I hurtle my way upwards, not slowing or bothering to try and hide my footsteps. I want them to hear me. I want them to come fight me. They'll only be shortening their own lives.

The stairs continue. Up and up and up. I run for so long that eventually my calves begin to burn with the effort. I slow, my run turning into a jog. Dull pain seizes my chest and my breaths become short and quick. Why are there so many stairs? I remember how, on the outside, the tower seemed to rise up straight into the clouds...Surely the tower doesn't actually go that high?

Unfortunately, I think it does.

I'm soon unable to even sustain my jog. I come to halt in the middle of a room that is identical to the one I left Cecil in, except that instead of two staircases leading up there is six.

I stare out at the stairs, blinking slowly and trying to regain my breath as I attempt to figure out the difference between the staircases. Is there even any differences? What if they all just end up in the same--

Something hard slams into my back. I hit the ground at an angle, right elbow slamming hard into the ground. My knife is jolted out of my hand and goes skittering across the floor before coming to a halt at a pair of feet.

"Get up!" Silve steps into the center of the room, slashing his sword through the air. "I'd prefer to kill you on your feet, but if you remain lying then I'll just have to make do."

Dammit! I shove myself back to my feet, clumsily drawing my sword. In all my haste to find the others, I had completely forgotten to pace myself. My breathing is still hard from taking all those stairs, my legs still burn. By pushing myself to exhaustion, I might have just gotten myself killed.

Silve's sword swings for my head. I just barely have time to pull my shield up, absorbing the concussive blow. I stumble back, reeling with shock at the force. Silve grunts and swings again. This time I merely sidestep and reposition myself.

Silve drops back into a defensive posture, one leg back with his sword arm extended, the other arm holding a knife in a reverse grip. "Where's your friend?" He asks. That's when I notice his face. There's a hole in his right cheek, bloody and raw. I can just make out the inside of his mouth through the hole.

What happened? Has he already fought with Jayda?

"No answer for me?" Silve glances towards the staircase before snapping his attention back to me. "Very well. It seems you have no use for words."

"Damn right."

He smiles. "Then let us finish this!"

He lunges forward, sword tip flying for my throat. I slap the sword away with my own blade, then step inside his guard, ready to skewer him. But I forgot about his knife, and there's a sudden, blinding pain as he ducks under my blow and slams it into my thigh.

I stumble into a roll. Silve's sword cleaves the air over my head, then I'm rolling beneath the lone table. A moment later I reappear on the other side, hobbling with one good leg.

Silve closes the distance, shoving the table aside as he sends another blade slashing for my skull. I block the sword with my shield, stumbling back as he unleashes a volley of blows, all of which are blocked by my shield. But block is all I can do, and even that will eventually fail me. His blows are too strong, too frequent. My arms have already begun to go numb. It won't be long before they fail me completely.

Suddenly desperate, I let out a roar and charge. Silve sees it coming and tries to step backwards. Too slow. My shield's edge slams into his face, snapping his head around as the full force of my charge collides with him. Seconds later we both hit the floor. I'm scrambling back to my feet when a boot connects with the side of my head.

Blinding light. Pain. Blackness. More pain.

Vision slowly returning, I push myself back onto my knees. Shaking my head to clear the fog that obscures my thoughts, I turn just in time to see Silve's sword arcing down for my neck.

I roll. The blade bounces off the stones and I take the opportunity to slam my foot into Silve's wrist. The boy grunts in pain, dropping his blade as he reels back. I jump up and rush him, sword swinging out wildly. Silve stabs out with the knife still clenched in his hands.

I feel blossoming pain as the blade rips into my side but I ignore it, grinning with savage fury as my sword cuts a horizontal path towards Silve's face. The blade tears a wide gash across his forehead. He lets out a curse, stumbling back. Blood streaming down into his eyes, he reaches over his shoulder and pulls out a second sword.

Seriously? Who keeps two swords!

I fall back, anticipating his counterattack. It never comes. Instead, Silve turns and sprints up the nearest staircase. His thundering footsteps soon fade from hearing.

Ignoring his flight, I turn attention to my wounds. First I pull the knife from my thigh. Blood wells but does not spurt, telling me that no artery or major vein has been touched. The other knife, the one in my left side, had skittered across my ribs and now lies flat, embedded in skin and a few layers of muscle. With a gasp of pain, I pull it out, too.

Lucky. I am lucky that neither blow was fatal. Unlucky that both are extremely painful.

I stretch my leg, testing its range of motion. It locks up in pain if I press it to far. Not good. Despite being the one to flee from the fight, there is no doubt that Silve won this engagement. The wounds he's dealt me have seriously impacted my abilities. The ones I dealt him are superficial.

If only Cecil were here, then we could--

No. No, I can't think on that. I need to focus. I need to win these Games on my own. Cecil can't help. Not anymore. No matter how much I wish it to be true, Cecil is not going to help me. Not this time.

I check my weapons, make sure that each one is still viable. Then I pick up Silve's fallen sword and slip it into a loop on my belt. Finally, I begin my ascent up the stairs.

Silve better be ready. Because I'm coming for him.

Cecil Thayer (District 8)
Ten minutes after Corin leaves, after regaining some semblance of strength, I make my move.

I force my body to the stairs, ignoring its aching complaints. Ignoring the savage, tearing fire that is the pain that burns in my chest. I manage to walk up the first few steps, but then my legs give out and I collapse.

I lie there on the steps, breathing heavily and actively forcing myself to stay awake. My body wants to sleep. To rest. Everything hurts so badly. Surely resting would help? Except I know it won't. I know that, if I am to give in and rest, I'll never get up again. My eyes won't open. It's not rest that my body is begging for.

It's death. Death and the release that it offers.

I force myself to crawl. My fingertips curl around the edge of the stairs, muscles straining as I fight to pull myself up. Somehow, I find the strength. Even though I leave a trail of slick, wet blood behind me. Even though everything is urging me to just give in and accept defeat. Accept death.

I can't. I won't. I've never given before, never let myself be swayed just because something seemed impossible. I've made it this far, haven't I? Me, a blind kid from District 8. It shouldn't have been possible. I should never have survived the first few days.

But I did. Because I didn't give in.

My arms tremble with the effort. My breathing gets shallower with every step of progress. But I don't stop. I keep going, despite it all. I told Corin I'd catch up. So that's exactly what I'm going to do.

Eventually I reach the next landing. I pull myself up onto the smooth floor, then transition into a crawl. I crawl across the cold stones, crawl towards where I think the next staircase is.

I think I'm halfway there when I hear footsteps.

I pause and listen. Footsteps right above me. Who? Corin has certainly gotten further than this, and Jayda wouldn't have slown down. Silve? Is it possible that he's just lingering on the floor above me?

It's getting harder to think. Sometimes I think I see faint splashes of light, which frightens me more than anything. I'm blind. I shouldn't be seeing anything. The fact that I am...

I'm losing consciousness. Fast.

The footsteps are still there. Impossibly, it seems as if they're heading down the stairs. Why? What would be the point?

It doesn't matter, I realize. It doesn't matter if I can pull myself up. Whoever is up there, whoever is coming down to me, will kill me.

I force down a bitter laugh. Instead, I prop myself up on one elbow and, with my other hand, reach into my belt to pull out a shuriken. They won't get an easy kill. I won't give in that easily.

The footsteps approach, slow, then...

"Oh. My. I didn't..."

A voice. One that I don't recognize. Who...?

"Someone killed him," The voice continues, shaky and high-pitched. "And now they're going to kill me!" A male voice. Not Silve. So it must be...

"I'm not dead," I croak.

The boy lets out a scream, and I smile, imagining him flinching back from my dilapidated body. I begin to laugh, then. If it seemed impossible for me to survive this long, then what were the chances of Topher doing the same?

"You're...Not dead?" Topher's voice edges closer. I carefully line up a shot. One shuriken to the head..."You're...alive?"

I force out a laugh. "Just barely."

"I...I should kill you, shouldn't I?"

Something in his voice stops me from throwing my shuriken. The frailty of the tone, the desperation...

"What happened to you?" He asks.

"Surorian. Corin and I...we teamed up with Jayda to kill him. We succeeded, but...I had to protect Corin. I couldn't let her die. I just couldn't."

I hear Topher's breath catch. "A hero..."

"Excuse me?"

"Let me help you. Please." His hands are underneath me before I can even respond. He lifts me to my feet and I gratefully take the opportunity to lean against his shoulders.

"Th-thank you," I rasp.

"You're very welcome." There's a silence for a moment, then he speaks again. "How...how did you get in front of me, if I may ask?"

I don't understand the question. I slag against him, barely able to keep my thoughts in order. "I wasn't on a higher floor," I tell him. "If that's what you mean. You came back down to me."

"I...oh my. Certainly I didn't...I mean..."

"What?"

Topher's voice is flush with embarrassment. "I may have, um, accidentally ran the wrong way. You see, I had an encounter with Silve and, ahem, I may have been mixed up and accidentally, very accidentally, I might add. I might very well have--"

"You ran down the stairs instead of up, didn't you?"

"Yes."

I would laugh if I didn't think that the effort would kill me. "Did you kill Silve?" I ask instead.

Topher's tone is surprisingly morose. "No...I did not. I stabbed him, though. With a spork."

"A spork?"

"Yes. It was the only thing I had in hand, you see. I didn't...I'm not a hero. I couldn't...I can't do anything to help. All my friends die." His tone is nearly enough to finish me off.

"You helped me," I grunt.

There's a long silence, broken only by our footsteps on the stairs. I hadn't realized we'd begun climbing. "Did I?" Topher finally asks, his voice small and soft. "Did I...really help?"

"Yes...You did."

"Thank you!" It almost sounds as if he's crying, but I know that it's just my fevered imagination. Why would he be crying? For a long moment there's nothing else but the sound of our feet on the stairs.

"Topher...can I ask you for a favor?"

"Yes. Of course. I want to help you. I want to help, oh yes, I do!"

"Find Corin. Tell her that I'm sorry for failing her. I should...I should have been able to...help her more than I have..."

"I will. I promise you, Cecil. I will tell her."

"Good. Thank you." I feel the light closing in, now. I see it every time I close my eyes. I won't be able to go much further. I only hope that Topher is true to his word. I think he will be. He seems like....What is that noise?

Footsteps?

"Someone is coming up behind us," Topher suddenly says, the worry in his voice evident. I am merely confused. Who could possibly be behind us? Jayda and Corin both moved on and, according to Topher, Silve is also above us. Then how...?

"I am the resurrection and the life! The one who believes in me will live, even as they die!"

A cold chill runs down my back, drilling into my heart and wrapping itself there in a frosty embrace. I know that voice. I know it well. I heard it not that long ago. I heard it just before...just before Jayda killed him.

Surorian.

"Topher," I whisper into the boy's ear even as I feel the muscles in his body tense. "Listen to me. You have to find Corin. Now. Tell her that Surorian isn't dead. You can't let him catch her by surprise. You can't!"

"Two sheep gaze upon the lion and quake in fear!" Surorian bellows, his feet pounding as he steps forward. "They know naught what to say or how to say it, so their fear is their words!"

Topher hasn't moved. He seems frozen in shock or fear or some combination of the two. I grip his collar as tightly as I can manage. "Topher!" I shake him as hard as I can. "Topher! You need to go! Now!"

He finally snaps back to his sense. Bewildered, I feel him shift to face me. "But you...if I leave, you'll--"

"I know! Just go! Find Corin. Please."

I can feel the hesitance in his posture, in the way he shifts from foot-to-foot. His eyes must be flickering back and forth from me to the stairs. "I...I always run, Cecil," His voice is soft and full of despair. "I always abandon my friends. I can't..."

"You will!" I push myself away from him, squirming from his grasp. I stumble but, amazingly, stay on my feet. "You will run, Topher! You will run right now!"

Mercifully, he does. I hear his footsteps as he spins and plunges up the staircase. Hopefully he can run fast. I don't think I'll be able to hold Surorian off for long. Taking a deep breath, I turn to face the boy who should be dead. "How...how are you even alive?"

"Did you truly think you could kill me?" He steps closer, close enough that I can hear his breathing. I would stab him, but I can barely stand. I don't think I can even lift my arm. "Did you think that you could kill Surorian Chaos? Did you really?"

"You fell down a staircase."

"My armor is sufficient protection from that."

"Jayda told us how your head bled..."

"Head wounds always look worse than they are."

"The cannon...it wasn't for Silve or Topher, and neither of us three died..."

There's a long silence, then Surorian's hands wrap around my head, pulling me in close to him. "Do you truly think," He says, lips right against my ear, "that you have a chance of winning?"

I feebly shake my head. "Not me. Corin."

I can feel the smile on his face. "Let me tell you a secret. That cannon you heard...the Gamemakers set it off. On purpose. By using an item she should never have had, Jayda had gained a temporary advantage over me, but the Gamemakers intervened before she could...attempt to kill me."

I don't understand. Why would they do that? Why would...

"Where do you think I kept getting my weapons?" Surorian continues. "How I kept finding all those weapon caches? I knew which Feast bag held the armor. I knew that there were no traps on this tower. Do you know why I know?"

"You...You..."

"Just before the Games began, I was given orders. I was told to win at all costs, eliminate every tribute. Ensure a Capitol Victory. In return, President Stryker would grant my wish. He would make me a General in the war."

I feel myself begin to slip. Consciousness fading...need to tell...Corin...

"There can only be one Victor in these Games, Cecil. Only one. None of the other tributes are allowed to win. Only me. Do you understand? Only me."

Just before I lose consciousness for that final time, I feel his hands tighten around my neck. Then, in one quick, precise motion, I feel my neck snap.

Then there's just blinding light.

Corin Greer (District 5)
Boom!

The cannon brings me to a halt. I stop in the middle of a staircase, one hand on the wall, the other still holding my shield. A cannon...was it Cecil's? It seems all too likely.

I find myself staggering up the rest of the steps, suddenly overwhelmed with the grief I've been trying to bury. I knew this was coming. I knew from the very start that he had to die. But still...I hadn't expected it to happen in the way it did.

I emerge onto the next landing and, without even pausing, rush over to the next staircase. I'm pretty sure that each one leads to the same place. After all, there can only be one destination.

The very top of the tower.

I don't let myself get too caught up in emotion. Nor do I let my guard down. It's still possible that the cannon was for one of the other tributes, which would mean that someone out there just killed another tribute. Jayda or Silve, most likely.

Despite following his trail since our fight, I haven't seen a single sign of Silve. Of course, I know exactly where he's going. Up. Where else could he go? Still, I'm alarmed. My leg continues to stiffen, and it'll only get worse the more time passes. I need to end these Games now, while I still can.

I burst up into the next landing and immediately freeze.

The room has changed. No longer is it identical to every other room in the tower. Nor are there any more staircases. No, this room is different. Different, but still familiar. I've seen a room like this before. I've been in a room like this before.

The Launch Room.

I step forward, staring at the long glass cylinder that contains the Launch Plate. But there's not just one Launch Plate. No. There's six

"One for each tribute," I murmur, running a hand along the length of the glass. The Gamemakers designed it so that each one of us would have our own tube. Only, not all of us will use them. Surorian won't, and neither will Cecil.

I spin around, taking everything in. As far as I can tell, it's identical to the Launch Room that sent me into the arena. The only difference is the amount of cylinders.

I drift across the tubes, studying them. There's no staircase in this room besides for the one that led me up here. So, if there's no other path left, does that mean I have to use the Launch Plate?

I stop. One of the cylinders is different from the others. There is no Launch Plate inside the glass. I frown, then step back to reexamine the other cylinders. Sure enough, they all still have their plates. Only one is empty, which means...

"Someone has already used it!" But who? Jayda? I haven't seen her since she ran away. Silve? It would explain why I haven't seen him in any of the floors below. Topher? I had nearly forgotten he was even in the Games. I don't have an answer.

But it doesn't matter.

But what it does do is give me a choice. I can either send myself up after whoever it was that launched, or I can wait here and take out the others as they arrive. I don't like the idea of using the plate. I have no way of knowing where it will send me, or what is on the other side. On the other hand, waiting here will basically guarantee that I will come face to face with the other tributes. I'll be able to settle the score with Jayda. Be able to finish what I started with Silve. Be able to...no. Cecil is dead. He won't make it here.

I draw my sword. Take a few test swings. I will not go down easy. If the others want to win, want to get the privilege of using these Launch Plates, then they're going to have to go through me.

I smile and take my place in the center of the room. If everything goes as I wish it, then there'll only be one other tribute using the Launch Plate. Me.

I keep myself tense as I wait, bouncing from foot-to-foot to prevent becoming flatfooted. Jayda had an axe, I believe. Good. I'm more than certain that my sword and shield will be enough to defeat anything she can throw at me.

Time passes slowly, with no one showing up. I begin to wonder whether I should just use the plate after all when I hear the first strain of footsteps. Far below me, but moving quickly. I press myself against the wall, parallel to the staircase. When they enter...

Someone stumbles into the room.

I strike.

My sword flashes at them, slashing at a downward angle. The person turns and only has time to give off one frightened gasp before my sword is slicing through his body.

Topher thumps to the ground. Cleaver drops from his hands, clattering across the floor and coming to a rest at my feet. I kick it away, walking over to finish the boy off once and for all.

His watery blue eyes widen as they spot me. "C-corin!"

Ignoring him, I raise my sword.

"Wait! Please!" One of his hands curls around his face. The other remains lifeless on the floor. I begin to bring my blade down. "Cecil sent me! He...he needed to..."

My body reacts instinctively at the word "Cecil". With a desperate twinge of my muscles, I adjust my aim and send the sword flying over Topher's head. It slams into the stones and, the strain too much for my wrist, squirts out of my grasp.

Cursing, I fumble for the knife at my belt. "You better have a damn good reason for saying his name!" I snarl.

"I do! I do!" The boy struggles into a sitting position. His left arm, which I now see is marred with a huge gash that travels from shoulder to wrist, hangs limply at his side. My blade struck deep, it seems. "Cecil...he sent me to find you."

"You already said that." Is this some kind of trick? Did Jayda or Silve send Topher to try and confuse me, so that they may strike while my guard is down? My eyes flicker to the stairwell, but I see no movement. I turn my attention back to the boy. "Why should I believe you? And how did you meet Cecil? He was..."

Dying.

"I..." Topher licks his lips, eyeing the knife I wave in his face. "I found him while traversing the tower. He was...wounded." He launches into an elaborate story, then. One involving how Cecil told him about our attack on Surorian. I feel my stomach clench at his words. The only way he'd know that would be if Cecil told him. But if he met Cecil, then that means...

"What happened to him?" I demand.

Topher pauses. He looks up at me and visibly flinches. "I...I am sorry. He...he is dead."

Cold. I feel cold. Like icy hands are wrapping themselves around me, pulling me deeper into a frozen lake. Cecil...I knew he had to die. Was going to die. But...no. No time to think. Questions! I need information!

"Who killed him?" I hiss, thoughts vengeance already flashing in my mind. Did Jayda go the full mile with her betrayal?

Topher winces, rubbing at his torn and bleeding arm. "It...You will not..."

"Tell me!"

"Surorian."

I blink. Then I shake my head. "What the hell are you talking about? Surorian is dead. I watched Jayda kill him!"

"No, he isn't! I know naught how, but he is alive! He attacked Cecil and I while we were climbing..." His babbling words cease to have meaning. I'm no longer listening. This whole story is fake. It has to be. I saw Surorian die, I heard the cannon signalling his death. The cannon couldn't possibly have been for anyone else! Every tribute was there, except for Silve and Topher. And I saw Silve after the cannon. As for Topher, well, he is obviously very much alive. Something is wrong with this story.

"You're lying."

"What?" Topher looks at me with a new expression: Fear. "No! I am not! Why would I? What would I stand to gain?"

"Surorian didn't kill Cecil." A dead boy couldn't have done the deed. No, that would be impossible. Surorian didn't kill him. Someone else did.

"He did! I mean, I didn't see it happen, but I heard the cannon! He must have! Who else would've?"

"I know someone who could have. Someone who would."

Something in my tone alerts Topher to a new danger. He stops talking, stops even breathing. His head slowly turns to face me. His eyes meet mine, wide with disbelief. "You're not...You can't possibly..."

I nod. "I do."

"I didn't...I mean, why would I...? I didn't kill Cecil!"

His words are a shrill wail. Tears flood his eyes, but what are they tears of? Guilt? Despair? Acceptance?

"Cecil sent me to find you! He wanted me to pass on a message, to--"

"Cecil wouldn't do that," I cut in. "He would never send you after me, because he'd know that I'd never trust you. He'd know that I would strike you down the second I saw you." Oh, I believe that Topher found Cecil. I believe that, in his dying moments, Cecil told him about our fight against Surorian. But I don't believe that Surorian resurrected himself. I don't believe that he killed Cecil but somehow let Topher escape him. No. That doesn't make sense. Especially not when there's a much more convincing explanation.

"You either killed Cecil," I say aloud, "or you simply watched him die. Either way, you're a coward. You sought to lie to me and make me let my guard down. Your goal was to kill me, wasn't it?"

"I...no! Why would I kill you? Why would I..."

His protests turn into a scream as my fist takes him in the nose. Blood spurts as it breaks. I watch the blood dribble down the rivulets of my knuckles. I feel hollow. Inflicting pain on this boy only makes me feel worse.

I stand up and walk away.

"Wh-where are you going?" Topher calls after me, his voice even more nasally than before.

I don't answer. I reach the Launch Plate and tap a button next to it. The glass slides open and I step inside. "Up."

"You can't go! I-I need to pass on Cecil's message!"

"Don't need to hear it. I already know it." He would have said that he was sorry. That he wished he could have done more to help me. Even though he did everything he could, did more than he even should have. He was just that kind of person.

"Wh-what about me?"

"What about you?" I ask.

"What am I supposed to do? Where do I go?"

I stare at him. He's a miserable sight, leaning back against the wall with one arm hanging bloody and limp at his side. Blood still streams from his nose, streaking his face. It looks like a gust of wind could just blow him over.

I shrug. "You will wait there. Wait for Surorian or Jayda to find you. Then..."

"Then what?"

I shrug again. "Then you die."

I press the button that closes the glass. A voice begins counting down to Launch. I spare only a single glance back at Topher. He is, surprisingly, struggling to his feet, one hand wrapped firmly around that spork of his. Guess he won't go down without a fight.

Doesn't matter. I return my attention to the ceiling above me. My future lies up there. My life...or death.

"I'm not going to wait for death!"

I spin around just in time to see Topher lunging at me, spork outstretched. Eyes wide, I try to step aside only to slam into the side of the glass. I scream as something tears across the skin of my neck. Hands fumbling, I shove Topher away.

"I'm not a hero!" Topher stumbles back on his heels, using one hand to pry the tube door back open. "All the heroes are dead! Dead!" His eyes are wide and glazed over with pain. His wounded arm still lies limp.

"Shut up!" I lash out with a foot, connecting with his ribs. He goes sprawling backwards, landing on his rump. I pull my knife out, hold it in one unsteady hand. "You bastard! You did kill Cecil, didn't you?"

He shakes his head so violently that it looks like it's about to pop off. "No! No, no, no! I've never killed anyone! All I ever wanted was to help people. But most people don't want my help and those that do end up dead. Why? Why do they always die?"

He's broken. Somewhere along the way, sometime during the Games, he broke. Was swallowed by the despair and sorrow that surrounded him. He was never meant to withstand such brutality, such disregard for human life. He was too innocent. Too pure.

He didn't kill Cecil. I realize that now. He sincerely wanted to pass on his dying message to me, but I spurned him. Denied him. Show him even more cruelty. Except, even if I hadn't done it, someone else would have.

Topher is too good for this world. So that is why I have to remove him from it.

"I'm sorry," I whisper the words as I flex my fingers around the knife. Topher is rising to his feet, eyes overflowing with tears. His face burns a permanent place in my mind as I take the knife and, with one quick flick of the wrist, send it flying.

The blade sinks deep into Topher's chest. He lets out a loud exhale of breath, then stumbles back up against the wall. A moment later, he falls. He does not get back up.

The countdown finishes. The floor rumbles as the Plate lurches into motion, bringing me upwards. I let out a shuddering breath as, somewhere out there, a cannon sounds off. Boom!. Topher deserved better than this life. Hopefully he finds it in the next.

With one hand I feel at the cut across my neck. So close to the jugular. Topher had been less than an inch away from taking my life. Sloppy. I can't afford to make such mistakes again. Not if I want to live.

I return my attention once more to the ceiling, to the bright light that begins to shine down on me. As I've thought before...my future lies up there. My life...or my death.

Jayda Idylwyld (District 3)
I stagger up the steps, regulating my breathing as I go. I left Corin and Cecil far, far below me. Who knows where they are now or if, indeed, they are even still alive. Yet that does not matter to me right now; I cannot look back. Only forward.

I pause at the next landing and sigh as I spot another staircase. My legs are killing me, yet I know that I cannot stop moving, else I will soon be killed by something worse than my legs.

I force myself up the next flight, taking the stairs two at a time. I've turned off my brain. The time for thinking is long gone. The only thing left to do is end this game. When I emerge onto the next landing, however, I am struck. Something smashes into my right shoulder, spinning me through the air. I hit the ground, tumble and roll, limbs flopping.

My eyes stare up into the swirling dust, the ceiling behind it spinning.

A shape appears in its midst, and a hard-soled boot settles on my chest. I can not draw breath. The pressure of the boot is building, crushing my chest. I claw at it. Blackness closes around me. I can taste blood in my mouth. "I've finally found you!" A voice speaks somewhere above me. Harsh and tinged with malice. "It took a long time, yes. But better later than never, no?"

I freeze my frantic movements. That voice...no. No, it's not possible! How could he be here? Didn't I kill him? I saw the blood, heard the cannon. How could Surorian be alive?

The pressure on my chest doesn't let up. I hear the whisper of steel against leather as Surorian draws his sword. I know where that sword is going to plunge. Can't allow it. Mustn't.

With numb fingers I grab my knife and, without even being capable of sight, I slash it at Surorian's ankle. He doesn't even react as the blade hardly nicks his armor, but the force of the blow is enough to dislodge his foot from my chest.

I spring into action. Leap to my knees, roll to avoid Surorian's sword, then stand and pivot. Suddenly I'm face to face with him. He looms over me, violet eyes glittering with unexplainable hatred, lips drawn back in a snarl. "You cannot defy Death!"

"Apparently you can, though." I heft my axe, mind whirling as I take in my surroundings. The room is identical to every other. The only obstacle I can use are those table and chairs...

Surorian swings. There's no warning, no more words. His steel blade goes whizzing for my head, faster than even I can process. I jump aside to dodge, only to ram my knee against the corner of the table. Sharp pain jolts through me and I gasp, turning just in time to see the sword slash past.

Pain.

I scream and swing out wildly. Everything is red. I feel blood dripping down my face, spattering my clothing. The tip of his blade cut across my face, from the bridge of my nose to left ear.

Surorian catches my axe by the haft. He sneers at me, then, with almost contemptuous ease, yanks the weapon out of my grasp.

I stumble back, eyes wide with disbelief. He's so strong...how can I possibly hope to win?

There's no blocking Surorian's next swing. No dodging it either. I scream as the blade tears through my leg, slicing muscles and tendons. I drop like a stone, my head slamming against the hard ground.

Surorian looms over me. His expression is one of triumphant victory...only to be replaced by one of pure shock.

Something slams into him. Surorian's sword glints in the light as it spins from his hand and away down the staircase. He curses, snatching at his belt for a dagger, but before he can get there the figure is on him. Growling mindlessly as it hacks away at his shield, driving Surorian backwards. One last blow crashes into the shield and Surorian staggers from the force of it. He trips over the corner of a misshapen stone poking through the floor and tumbles onto his back. With a snarl of victory, the newcomer swings his sword down.

It slices clean through the portion of armor on Surorian’s shin and takes his foot off just above the ankle. Blood splatters across the stones. Howling with pain, Surorian drags himself backwards and tries to scramble up, only to shriek as he tries to put weight on his missing foot. Surorian collapses to the ground, sprawling on his back again, coughing and groaning.

When the newcomer turns around, I finally see his face. I nearly choke on my shock.

"Cecil!"

A wry smile flickers across his face. "Is our truce still in place?"

I can only manage a mute nod.

"Impossible!" Surorian screams from where he lies on the floor. Blood still flows from his severed ankle, soaking the ground. "Impossible! I killed you! Killed you!"

Cecil turns back to the boy, tilting his head. "Did you now? I may be mistaken, but I feel very much alive," He glances back at me, "how about you, Jayda? Do I look alive to you?"

"I..." I can't find the words. The last time I had seen this boy he was lying on the floor bleeding to death. But now he's here, looking practically unharmed. And not only that! He just beat Surorian in a sword fight. Surorian. How...?

"No words? Yes, I could see how you would be shocked. Very well." He bends down suddenly, hands wrapping around me as he pulls me to my feet. "I can explain. But before that, you have something you need to do."

"I...do?"

He gestures at Surorian. "Finish him."

"What! Why? Can't you..." I trail off, gaze fixed on the bleeding, broken boy at my feet. Surorian hasn't moved since he lost his foot. He lies there still, eyes glittering with the same seething hatred.

"I cannot kill him," Cecil says softly.

"Why not?" I can't do this. I can't kill him. Not like this. Not in cold-blood...

Cecil sighs. "It's complicated. Look, you just have to finish him—"

There's a shrieking roar, then Surorian is flying towards us. Somehow having found the strength to stand, he launches himself forward, arms extending towards me. There's a knife in his hand. Aimed straight for my heart. I open my mouth to scream.

Then Cecil is there. With one quick shove he sends me tumbling to the floor out of Surorian's path. Surorian adjusts midair and, switching the dagger between hands, he finds a new target.

The blade slams into Cecil's chest.

I scream. Slowly, oh so slowly, Cecil looks down to stare at the knife now embedded in his chest. He reaches out and tentatively touches it. Then he collapses.

"No! No!" I whirl, spinning to see Surorian hobbling towards me, sword outstretched. How the hell can he even still be moving? I dip to the left, ducking under the blade. With one hand I pull the second axe from my belt, then I pivot and swing.

Surorian turns just in time to see his death.

The axe carves a path through his face. It rips down from his right eye, slicing through his nose and lips. He howls in pain. I swing again. The axe slams into the crown of his skull and sticks there. His screaming comes to am immediate stop.

I can't feel anything at all-except a slight nausea and a desire to vomit. Everything is automatic now. I step back a pace, waiting, and the funny thing is that he remains standing there for at least four or five seconds, gently swaying. Then he crashes to the floor.

The violence of the crash, the noise, the small table overturning, helps bring me out of my shock. I come out slowly, feeling cold and surprised, and stand there for a while blinking at the body. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the cannon sounds. Boom!

"Congratulations." I turn to see Cecil lying propped up against the wall, knife still in his chest. "You killed him...for real this time."

"H-how can you be sure?" Images flash in my head. Surorian's destroyed skull. Everything leaking out. The blood...the brains...

"You're just going to have to trust me," Cecil smiles, then gasps in pain. In a moment I'm kneeling by his side. He tries to wave me away. "I'm fine...just fine."

"There's a knife in your chest!"

"I...yes, I guess that will prove quite...problematic..." His words are getting slurred. Are further spaced apart. My mind recognize what is happening even as my heart tries to deny it.

"You're dying..."

He nods. "Everything dies eventually." A short pause. "Well, maybe not everything."

I don't know what to say. He's dying because he saved me. But why? Why did he do so much to help me? We had a truce, yes, but he barely knew me and went well beyond what a truce would have expected from him.

His blue eyes find mine. "They sent him to kill you," He says softly, nodding at Surorian's body. "He's been looking for you the whole Games. He was supposed to kill you well before now."

My breath catches. I had suspected this, but to have it confirmed..."The Gamemakers?"

Cecil nods.

"Why?"

"I think you know."

I do. The other Idylwyld's don't want me winning. It only makes sense that they would do whatever it takes to see me dead. I knew they'd try to kill me, but to send another tribute after me? I would never have suspected such a thing.

A thought strikes me. "How...how do you know this, Cecil?"

He smiles. Head dipping down as the life slowly fades from his eyes. But before he goes, he murmurs one last thing. Words that hit me harder than any weapon ever could. "Though rock and dread may be your bed, so sleep, my baby dear..."

I watch his corpse for a few moments before standing. My chest feels tight. I can scarcely breath. The Gamemakers are trying to kill me. The Idylwyld's want me dead. And winning these Games won't change that. My life won't be in any less danger. But that doesn't mean I can just lie here and accept death. No. No, I cannot accept that.

I collect one of my axes but the leave the other behind. I'm shuddering at just the thought of prying it free from Surorian's skull. I also don't take anything from Cecil's body. It feels wrong, somehow, to loot him.

When I am prepared I begin my ascent up the stairs. It is slow going. My left leg, the one Surorian's blade tore through, drags behind me. I can barely even feel it. My head has also begun to feel oddly heavy, and my thinking has become hazy. This would worry me if I wasn't already worried about everything else that awaits me.

Eventually, after a tortuous climb that feels like hours even though I know it couldn't possibly have been that long, I emerge onto a new floor. Several clear tubes rest against the far wall. They are painfully familiar. The Launch Plates.

I suppose that the Gamemakers must love the irony of this. I hobble towards the nearest Plate, not at all surprised to see that two of the Plates are already gone. But before I get there I stumble over a body.

Topher. He lies at an awkward angle, one hand outstretched and clutching a spork. He looks so small in death. So...innocent. But I suppose that we're all innocent, aren't we? Except for Surorian, none of us had signed up for this. Even the Careers couldn't possibly have imagined how brutal this would be.

Leaving Topher where he lies, I enter one of the Plates. Immediately it begins to rise. I sink against the wall, grateful for the opportunity to rest. Unfortunately I know it won't be for long. When this lift stops I'll have to face the last two tributes. Corin and Silve. They—

I frown. Did I...did I miss the cannon? The one signalling Cecil's death? I must have. Because I certainly do not remember—

Bright lights flood my vision. I squeeze my eyes shut tight as a dull roar fills my ears. Waves? I slowly open my eyes, conscious of the sun's warmth shining down on me. The real sun. And that's when I finally realize that the roar I hear isn't the ocean at all.

It's the cheering of a crowd.

Silve Wisp (District 2)
The sun beats against my face. The crowd roars in approval. We stand in a tight triangle at a large crossroads, the Presidential Balcony looming above us, protruding from the black glass Training Center that goes straight up into the sky. The training center is not the only building around, but it is the tallest and most prominent.

I know this place. I have been here before. We all have. I pivot slowly on my plate, taking in my surroundings. Directly behind me, I can see the Victory Walk we had all come traipsing down on chariots only a week ago. The stadia that had held thousands of cheering and screaming Capitol citizens are just as full now as they were then. Hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of seats filled with people eager to watch us spill each other's blood.

The arena was below the Capitol. I had never even thought to envision such a possibility. It seems absurd. How and why would they make an entire arena beneath their own city?

"Citizens of the Capitol!" An enhanced voice cuts through the cheering of the crowd, and I look up to see, standing atop the Presidential Balcony, President Stryker himself. He is dressed in an elaborate suit, a wide grin on his face. Two tall bodyguards stand behind him. Stryker spreads his hands wide. "Are you all ready to witness the live finale?"

The crowd answers with a cheering roar. As President Stryker goes on to say something else, I let my eyes flit away from him. The Presidential Balcony isn't the only viewing platform set apart from the common crowd; there's also one for the Gamemakers and, set lower to the ground, three more balconies.

I grit my teeth when I recognize the inhabitants of one such balcony. My mother, Sophronia. She sits on a plush armchair, legs crossed and hands folded primly across her lap. Her narrow, pinched face is devoid of emotion. What is she thinking? I couldn't care less.

My half-siblings Sonder, Spyro, and Sonora are also present. None of the three seem very pleased, and why would they be? None of them have ever liked me. Behind them, nearly out of sight, sits my mother's assistant, Valora. I grimace. So she gets a seat but not Roux? I am not surprised but still, I find myself unreasonably upset that my father will not be present for what will be either my death or greatest triumph.

The other two balconies contain what I can only fathom are the family members of Jayda and Corin. Jayda's balcony is occupied by a middle-aged redheaded woman and a young, Reaping-aged girl who seems to be a miniature version of the aforementioned woman. Jayda's Mother and sister, I suspect.

Her father is not present, for he is currently sitting with the Gamemakers.

Corin's balcony holds two adults, a teenage girl, and a similarly aged boy. Her family, I guess. It is odd, though, that neither of the adults nor the girl look very much like Corin at all. The boy, however, is the spitting image of Corin. They look so much alike that I wouldn't be surprised to learn that they are twins.

President Stryker is still talking. He seems to be giving some sort of speech about national unity or something like that. I'm still not paying attention. Instead, I focus my gaze on the only people who really matter here.

Jayda and Corin.

Jayda is leaning against one side of her glass tube, breathing heavily and clearly favoring her left leg. She has an axe in one hand and a knife in the other. The wounds that she is afflicted with seem to be taking their toll. As I watch, Her eyes squeeze shut and she seems to be talking to herself. Trying to block out the noise?

Corin is in better shape. She holds both her sword and her shield, feet shifting in place as she pivots to take in everything surrounding her. The wounds she received in our fight seem to have been superficial, for they don't appear to hamper her in any meaningful way. Then again, she could be concealing their severity.

I stretch my arms, then feel at the cut across my forehead. I bandaged it with a strip of cloth I cut from my shirt, so it does not bother me. The hole in my cheek does, however. That whole half of my face seems to have gone numb, a bad sign.

Who'd have thought that the worst wound I'd receive be from Topher?

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" President Stryker steps forward so that he is in clearer sight. For the first time I notice that Anais Morrisa, Victor of the 399th Games, is on the balcony with him. "You are about to witness the grand and exciting finale of the 401st Games! Are you ready?"

An answering cheer rises up from the crowd. I tighten my grip on my weapons.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let the countdown begin!"

A ight flickers on above his head, coalescing into a holographic image of the number "30". So it'll be just like the bloodbath. A countdown, then a fight to the death. I am prepared. I killed Twan at the bloodbath, so I am more than capable of killing two girls here.

It was good fortune that Surorian wound up dead before I had to fight him. He was both taller and stronger than I am. Corin and Jayda, while roughly my height, are not nearly as bulky or muscular as I am. Corin is good with a sword, but in prolonged fights I have her beat. She's never fought a skilled swordsman before.

I have.

The number shifts to "10", and the noise thrums again, world buzzing beneath my feet. I will rush Corin when the countdown ends. Jayda is too slow and wounded for me to worry about leaving her at my back.

I will not die here. I don't know if I have found my purpose, but I have co-opted Nylah's own purpose for now. I will live for the sake of living. Live so that I can breath. So that I can see tomorrow.

After all, how will I find my purpose of I die here?

Corin Greer (District 5)
The countdown reaches "5".

I exhale, letting my body loosen and unleash all the tension I had built up. The cheering of the crowd is a distraction. One that I cannot allow to affect me. I haven't even bothered to observe them, because they do not matter. Not in the slightest.

Only Silve and Jayda do.

Silve is watching me, his eyes narrowed into slits, sword at the ready. He will try and rush me, kill me before I can mount a counterattack. It's a good strategy, especially in a threeway fight. If he can take me out early, then he will only have Jayda to worry about.

Jayda. Traitor. I will kill her, if I can. But I don't have time to focus on that. Not yet.

3...2...1...

Gong!

The glass tubes slide open. Silve, just as I expected, comes barreling towards me. I jump off my platform and land on the smooth cobblestones that make up the floor of the concourse. I sidestep just as Silve raises his sword. I weave behind him, then stab out with my sword, aiming to skewer his spine.

He twists out of the way, then strikes my shield with a backhand strike so hard that I feel the vibration rattle up the length of my arm. "Stupid Career!" I hiss as I backpedal, eyes flickering around to keep track of Jayda. She still sits on her Plate, watching us with an almost confused expression.

Silve strikes again. His blade smashes against my shield and the strap is stretched to its limit. With an audible Snap! it flies from my hands, skittering across the stones until it comes to a halt at the base of Jayda's base.

The crowd roars in approval.

Growling in rage, I lunge forward. Silve slaps my sword away and flicks out his left hand. A gasp of pain escapes me as his knife slashes across my shoulder. "What does being Career have to do with anything?" Silve demands, spinning to keep me in view.

I reorient myself and backstep to give myself more space. Silve is between me and my shield. I need that shield. Without it, I don't have the strength to block Silve's blows. Deflection and dodging is my only defence.

Silve frowns at my silence. I take the opportunity to strike.

I dance forward, feint to the left, then come up to the right, parallel to his sword. I expect him to try and block or parry, but instead he drops and rolls, ducking under my blade. He comes up behind me and I'm forced to jump back to avoid having his knife buried into my spine.

"You signed up for this!" I snarl as the crowd lets out a multitude of screams. Some cheers, some boos. "You wanted this!"

Silve shakes his head. "I did not. I didn't know what I wanted, but I know it wasn't this."

"Liar! You trained your whole life for this!" A whole life dedicated to nothing but the prospect of murdering others. Is it any wonder why the Capitol remains in charge, when our country is filled with brutes like this?

Silve flinches as if struck. For a moment he just stands there, looking lost. But then he shakes his head, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. "I didn't get a choice, Corin. That's what has been missing my entire life. I never had a choice."

"Do you think that makes you special? Well, it doesn't."

"No. No, I don't think it makes me special. But it makes me human." Silve shakes his head once more, then he charges. I step forward to meet him.

Our battle continues.

Jayda Idylwyld (District 3)
The crowd cheers wildly as Corin and Silve exchange blows. Up on his Presidential Balcony, Stryker gives his play-by-play commentary. I, however, am oblivious to it all. My head is foggy, my thoughts unclear.

Everything is blurry, unclear. What is happening? I'm only vaguely aware that we're outside in the Capitol Courtyard, in the wide open concourse that sits right smack dab in the center of the Capitol. How? Why? It's hard to think. Why is it hard to think?

With a loud clash of swords, Silve and Corin whip past, a whirlwind of movement. Surprised, I step back and stumble as I step off my platform for the first time. I'm cognizant of the fact that those two are my only opponents left. If they both die, I win.

So they need to die.

I hoist my axe and turn to face the duo. They've moved past me and are now duelling between the three Plates, in what is almost the exact center of the concourse. The cheering of the crowd is a dull roar in my head. Why is there a crowd?

There's something here, something I should be able to grasp, to think about. But my head is too foggy and my body too sore. There's a ring of people watching me, not in the crowd, but on the concourse. Apparitions. They've returned.

Can't look. Mustn't look.

Corin and Silve are still fighting. Silve seems to be winning. He also has his back to me. I take a shaky breath and dart forward.

He'll never see me coming.

Silve Wisp (District 2
Step. Block. Parry. Attack. My mind has turned off, my body acting on instinct as I duel with Corin. A exhilarating sense of freedom courses through me. This is what I was meant to be. A swordfighter, a swordmaster. No, the rote practice and fights against lesser competition didn't make me feel this way. I didn't have this excitement, this energy. But this isn't a normal fight.

This is a fight between two masters of the sword. Too people who are naturally gifted with the art of swordsmanship. Corin is better than she has any right to be. Despite never being trained in the forms and stances, she knows how to use them. If she had been given enough time, I am sure that she would have eventually surpassed me in skill.

But she didn't get that time, and skill isn't everything. Even where she the greatest swordsman that ever lived, I would still have two very big advantages over her.

Size and strength.

She cannot meet me head on. Doesn't even try to. She's constantly dancing around my blows, darting in periodically to throw a thrust or light slash my way. This plan would normally work against a bigger and heavier foe such as myself if not for the fact that I know exactly what she is trying to do, and that her injured leg is slowing her down. At this rate, she will tire herself out along before I do.

As the crowd screams their applause and President Stryker shouts out his commentary, I see Corin make her first big mistake. She sidesteps when she should have backstepped, and that gives me an opportunity. I slash forward, sword raking across her wounded leg.

She stumbles, going down on one knee. I strikes again, and this time she barely manages to keep the sword away. "Stupid Career! Do you...think winning is proof of anything? It's not. You wasted your life."

I back off, shaking my head. “You are pathetic, Corin. There you kneel, about to die. And you still think you’re better than the rest of us. You judge me for becoming a Career? What else was I to do?"

She bows her head. I growl and stride forward, lashing out with my sword. Corin tries to defend herself, but is just too weak. I easily knock her weapon aside, then kick her in the stomach, sending her backward against the wall.

She slumps down, sword lost. She teaches for a knife on her belt, but I steps up and plant my booted foot on her hand.

She hisses in pain and frustration, then looks up, eyes shining with fury. "Damn you, Silve! Damn you to hell!"

Ignoring her, I raise my sword for the final blow.

Then I sense it. I don't know what alerts me. Maybe her footsteps, maybe the displacement of air. Either way, it doesn't matter. I spin around, sidestep, and watch as Jayda hurtles past me, axe swinging wildly.

She stumbles to a halt, eyes wide with shock.

Then my sword is moving.

Jayda gasps wordlessly as the blade slices across her stomach, just below the ribs. Her axe drops to the ground, then she follows, knees striking the pavement first. Mouth moving but no words coming out, she stares at the balcony that holds her family.

I step forward, plant a foot against her back, and shove. Her head smashes into the pavement. Hard.

Then she is still.

Boom!

The crowd erupts into cheers. Ignoring their applause, I spin around to face Corin but she is already backing off, eyes narrowed to furious slits. I step forward, adopting a high guard position. I feel a brief tingling of emotion over Jayda's death but shove it aside. I need to focus.

"Will you look at that! Silve has just easily despatched Jayda, leaving only two tributes left!" President Stryker continues to narrate the battle, his excited tones echoing throughout the concourse. He mentions something about this being my seventh kill. Jokes about how there's not enough tributes left for me to break the record. I don't care. Records mean nothing to me. I can't even remember most of the people I've killed.

For some reason that bugs me. But why? It doesn't matter. Need to win first. Then I can worry about these trivial matters.

I turn my full attention to Corin.

And see that she is eyeing the shield at my feet.

With one quick, deft motion, I lean down and pick it up. The look of despair that flashes across her face is all I need to know about whether I made the right decision. I give her a small nod.

Then I charge.

Corin Greer (District 5)
Silvecomes on hard and fast, my shield up in front of him, herding me across the stones, jabbing and chopping quick with the sword, I stumble back, short of breath, looking for an opening but not finding one.

The shield slams into my chest and knocks my breath out, pressing me back. I try to dodge away but I lurch on my weak leg, and the sword darts out and catches me across the arm. I hiss in pain, staggering against the outer wall where, above me, citizens scream and cheer. My arm leaks, droplets of blood pattering from the cut onto the cobblestones.

Silve growls, dancing sideways and repositioning his sword.

I stop and watch him, breathing hard. The shield is a big one and this stoic bastard knows how to use it. Very unfortunate. I was hoping that he'd be clueless and that holding it would hamper his abilities. Not so. It gives him quite the advantage. He was quick, no doubt. Quicker than me, now that I had a bad leg, a cut arm, and a thick head from all my combined wounds.

I edge sideways, stooping more and panting harder than I actually need to, letting my arm dangle as if it is useless, blood dripping from the limp fingers. I edge around until my back is to the center of the concourse. A nice wide space, where I actually have a chance to get a decent swing. Silve follows me, his shield held up in front. His face is hard and expressionless as he advances. No words from him. A pity.

I roar, springing forward and lifting my sword above my head in both hands. Silve scrambles back, but not quite far enough. The blade tears a chunk from the corner of his shield, slicing clean through and chopping deep into the side of one of the cobblestones with a loud clang!, sending chips of rock spinning. The impact nearly tears the sword from my hands, and sends me flailing sideways.

Silve gasps and throws down his shield. Blood is running from a cut on his shoulder, a cut right through his uniform and into the flesh. The tip of the sword must have gashed him as it passed. Not deep enough to kill, unfortunately. I'll need to do more. Weaken him with a strike to the legs, maybe, then go in for the--

His sudden charge is completely unexpected, especially the speed of his sword as it whirls towards me. I barely manage to avoid getting my skull sliced in half, ducking and pitching to my right. I spring back, staying as low as possible, then straighten once more. The top third of my sword is slick with blood. I've halted the charge with a stop-hit.

Opposite me, Silve stumbles back, blood pulsing from his right thigh.

The lead leg is always vulnerable.

I shake off the numbing effects of the blow. Muscles and tendons in my neck and back are screaming in silent pain, telling me that I've taken damage. For the moment, however, I am still capable of movement.

A growl, as Silve attacks once more.

A two-handed thrust, broken timing--a moment's hesitation is sufficient enough to avoid my all-too-quick parry--then finishing in a full lunge.

I twist my body in an effort to avoid the sword. Searing fire burns above my hip as the blade saws deep. A wet, red rush of blood sprays out to the side. But I'm now inside Silve's guard. With a shriek of rage, I drive my own sword forward at a sharp angle, stabbing the tip into his armpit. There's a grating resistance as the blade slides against ribs, but then it's past and gouging upwards, along his shoulder blade.

He screams now. A scream of pain and fury. His sword flashes out uselessly for my head, a flimsy blow that I duck under with ease. When I straighten out once more, I slash out with my knife.

Blood spurts from Silve's neck as the blade slices through. He stumbles but does not fall. Eyes widening, he presses one hand to his neck, fingers digging into the wound. I stare in confusion, utterly confounded by what he is doing.

Then I see it.

He is holding his own artery shut. He's forced his fingers into the sagging rent of flesh, found the slippery tube, and clamped it shut. I've never seen such a thing before. Didn't even know it was possible.

But Silve is doing it all the same.

I'm so shocked, in fact, that I don't even have time to prepare for his sword. It seems to move with a mind of its own, reversing grip, lone hand lifting high, sword point down. There's a diagonal thrust, then the blade is tearing into my hip bone.

I scream, falling to a knee. Silve, one hand still holding his artery together, rips the blade back out and, before I can react, thrusts it into my chest. My breath explodes into a frothy mist of blood as the blade slides up my torso, alongside my heart and through my lung. The tip finally emerges just below my right clavicle.

Dead. I'm dead. Silve has killed me. I feel myself sinking, body giving out. My throat is clogging with blood, I'm drowning in it. Silve stares past me, eyes glazed over as he stares out at a faraway balcony, his face twisted with some unknown emotion. His fingers still hold his artery, letting him cling to life....

Body shaking, mind fading, I reach out with one trembling hand. Silve's eyes swivel to face me as my hand nears.

Too late.

With one last desperate surge of strength, I shoot out, grab his wrist and pull. The hand is jerked out of the rent in his neck, ripped away from the all-so-important artery.

Silve opens his mouth to shout, but all that comes out is blood.

Now unimpeded, the dark red liquid comes spurting out his neck, splattering his hands and my face. Silve jerks around frantically, trying to stem the flow. But it's too late. Oh, it's far too late.

His trembling form falls to the ground, body stiffening before he even hits. The crowd, which until this point has been screaming wildly, has suddenly gone quiet. There is no sound but my strained, laboured breathing. Then...

"Get down there! Doctors! Now!" President Stryker is screaming. He is in his balcony, jumping up and down as he screams out orders. The crowd is confused, lost. They don't understand what is happening.

But they soon will.

I barely feel myself hit the ground. I don't feel anything anymore. Stryker is screaming. Screaming and screaming. I see a flash of white as doctors converge on the concourse, a bright white mob that is sprinting right towards me.

Too late. They're too late.

Jayda is dead. Silve is dead. Now, I am dead too.

There will be no Victor. Not this time. The doctors are gathering around my body, barking orders as they begin to take out their equipment. Stryker is still screaming. His Games have ended in a disaster. A disaster worse than any that has come before.

The crowd has gone completely silent. They must finally realized what has happened, how the Games have ended. What will they do? How will they react? Doesn't matter. I'll never know.

The blackness closes in, but just before my mind fades, just before I die, I let out a smile.

Because I finally get to see Elijah again.

Epilogue
This was a disaster. Worse than anything that had ever happened before. Worse, even, then the result of the 400th Games. There was no Victor. No winner. That had never happened before. It wasn't supposed to ever happen. The Games always had a Victor. They had to have a Victor.

Except this time it didn't.

Auric hurried down the empty, desolate halls. Everyone else had left the compound, either to watch the Finale live or work out the technical logistics at the onsite Command Center. He was the only one left.

He didn't know how Stryker would try and spin this to the Capitol citizens. It would have been simple to fake a result had the Games been on tape delay, like they usually were. But this finale had been live. Practically everyone in the Capitol had watched the finale with their own eyes and had seen the horrendous result. There would be no faking.

Auric didn't like to think about what the repercussions might be. Execution for each and every Gamemaker—with the exception of Noctis Stryker, obviously—could very well be the result. The Great Families wouldn't like that, of course, but how could they protest? No matter how you sliced it, the Gamemakers had failed. Horribly and publicly.

''It wasn't my fault. It wasn't''.

Auric shoved the thought aside. It didn't matter what the repercussions would be. Not yet. He still had a task to perform, questions to ask. The Nahual. It had its own agenda, that much was certain. It had purposely gone out of its way to have Surorian killed, even going as far to circumvent its no-kill order by having Jayda perform the deed.

Why?

The thought kept churning in Auric's head. Why did the Nahual want Surorian dead? Why him specifically? It had mentioned something about the Gamemakers favoring him to Jayda, but was that it? And how could it have possibly known that? Auric himself knew nothing of any such arrangement and would have been supremely displeased if he did. What would be the point of betting on a rigged game?

But that was beside the point. No, the mystery wasn't how or even why the other Gamemakers had favoured Surorian. The real mystery was how did the Nahual know?

Auric's mind wrestled with this question as he entered the elevator and waited for its descent. When the doors finally opened, he burst into the hallway and set off at a brisk trot. The Nahual would answer his questions. He would make it answer his questions. But despite his haste, Auric paused when he reached the first checkpoint. Something was amiss...

There were no guards.

Auric blinked, looking around to take in the whole room. Yes, it was quite empty. Why? While it was true that most of the center's occupants had relocated, the Peacekeepers stationed here were meant to stay. Especially the Peacekeepers stationed here at the Chamber of Repose. After all, Auric had paid them triple to make sure they kept an eye on the Nahual.

So where had they gone?

Feeling a creeping sense of dread, Auric made his way into the decontamination chamber. His worry grew when the doors opened automatically for him—no anti-bacteria gas was issued.

This was wrong. All wrong. Proper protocol had been breached, nay, not just that. Any sense of order or regulation had been completely expunged. Nothing was as it should be.

There was an icicle of fear in Auric's heart as he stepped threw the final security door and into the Chamber of Respose itself. He didn't know what he expected to find, but what was waiting for him was definitely not it.

The Nahual sat crossed-legged on the floor, head tilted up and eyes closed. "You came," It spoke softly, not even opening its eyes. "I thought you would."

Auric carefully edged into the room. "What has happened here? Where are my Peacekeepers?" His eyes darted around, looking for any hint or sign of an ambush. But there was nothing to see in the empty white room. Nothing but the Nahual itself.

"They have went on a sabbatical, you could say. Their presence would have disrupted my master's plan."

"Your master?" Auric's heart thundered in his chest. Of course! The Gamemaker who had snuck in! The one who had issued the mysterious orders!",

The Nahual's eyes snapped open for the first time. The dark green orbs rotated until they came to a rest on Auric. "I believe you have met him before."

Mind whirling, Auric spoke carefully. "I am going to issue you some orders. You will do exactly as I say, understand?" The Nahual always followed orders. That was one of the most noteworthy things about it. In the seven years of its creation, it had never once failed to obey an order.

The creature craned its neck to the side, its expression decidedly lazy. "I will obey any orders I am given."

Auric nodded. "Very good! Now, listen up. Rule number one, you will not, under any circumstance, cause me physical harm. Either directly or indirectly. If any action would result in my harm, you will refrain from doing said action. Understood?"

The Nahual nodded. "I hear your words."

"Good, good. Rule number two, I will shortly ask you some questions. You will answer each one as truthfully as you possibly can. You will not try to lie or mislead me. Understood?"

"If you insist."

Auric nodded. The creature was being very compliant, as it was wont to do, but he still felt uneasy. Something was definitely amiss, something that, for some reason, Auric thought was bigger than he ever thought. "Okay. First question. How—"

"A moment, if you please." The Nahual cut in, its tone soft yet firm. "Before we begin, I would like to ask you a question."

"Oh?" Auric's skin tingled with sudden anxiety. "What, pray tell, would you like to know?"

The Nahual inclined its head. "What was the result of the 401st Games? Who was the Victor?"

For a moment Auric felt like lying. He didn't enjoy the idea of revealing the Gamemakers failure to this creature. But petty actions would solve nothing, so Auric just nodded. "Very well. The Games had no Victor. Corin and Silve both killed each other in the final seconds."

There was long pause. Then the Nahual slowly nodded. "Ah. So you are a truthful one. I wondered if you would be."

"Excuse me?" Auric was bewildered. Was it implying that it already knew the Games result? But how? Why? "What are you going on about?"

The Nahual merely smiled.

This was wrong. Something was horribly, irredeemably wrong. For a moment Auric thought to run, but he soon banished that childish idea. The Nahual couldn't harm him, after all. There was nothing to fear. Nothing but the truth.

"One of the Gamemakers colluded with you," Auric spoke slowly. "He sought to gain a desired result for the Games, and thus used you to try and make that happen. Am I correct?"

The Nahual nodded. "Correct."

"What was his desired result? Why did he have you kill Surorian?"

"I will answer your second question first. Why did he have me kill Surorian? The answer is simple: he wanted to protect his daughter."

At first, Auric didn't comprehend the words. Then it hit him. The realization was like a cold, hard slap. Shock flooded through his body and his hands clenched into fists as the knowledge of what exactly transpired made its way through his brain.

"Her father," Auric forced the words through gritted teeth. He felt like puking. It had been so obvious! "Her father sought to protect her from his fellow Gamemakers."

The Nahual nodded.

Damn those Idylwylds! They were always cheating, always gaming the system! They thought they were untouchable. Invincible. And maybe they were right. They had managed to interfere in the Games itself, something that Auric thought was impossible.

"But Jayda still died!" He said the words aloud, though he was speaking to himself. "No matter what Edgar intended, he ultimately failed. His plot was unsuccessful." The dread slowly began to leak out of him. Edgar's actions had been traitorous, true, but they weren't apart of the world-shaking plot Auric feared.

A rebel hadn't gotten control of the Nahual. It was merely a desperate father trying to protect his beloved daughter.

Auric found himself not despising Edgar as much as he thought he would. After all, the other Gamemakers apparently had been trying to rig it for Surorian. It was only fair that their deceit was countered by deceit.

But still, using the Nahual? Auric hadn't thought the man capable of that.

"You seem pleased."

Auric looked up, suddenly reminded of the creatures presence. It no longer sat cross-legged on the floor, but stood right before him. Auric was shocked by how tall its current form was. It was at least a good five inches taller than his own six feet.

"Why wouldn't I be pleased?" Auric glared at the creature. "Your master's plan failed!"

The Nahual casually studied its fingernails. "Is that what you think?"

Auric frowned. "What--"

The Nahual reached a hand out and gripped Auric by the shoulder. He shouted and tried to squirm loose, but before he could he felt something prick his neck.

He lost feeling in his body, then. Auric fell forward, into the arms of the Nahual. It carefully laid him down on the floor. "Do you know who my master is, Auric?" The creature leaned over him, eyes twinkling.

Auric had to work to form words. "N-not E-edgar..."

"Well, yes and no. He was indeed the one who first came to me and broached the idea of this plot. He promised me my freedom as long as I protected his daughter at all costs. I, of course, immediately agreed. After all, I cannot disobey orders, can I?"

Auric's mind was cloudy. It was getting harder to think. He couldn't move, couldn't shout for help. How had things gone so wrong?

"Do you recognize this?" The Nahual dug into its shirt and pulled out an object. It was bizarrely ordinary, a simple piece of rock with vein of iron on one side.

The very sight of it filled Auric with fear.

"Ah. I see that you remember this stone. I am sure that I needn't remind you that I was ordered to obey the instructions of whomever held this stone? Well, I am now the holder, so the only instructions I need follow are my own."

"N-no..."

"Yes. It was quite a large loophole. I am surprised that you and the others missed it."

Wrong! This was all wrong! Auric fought against his body, fought against the cloudiness that threatened his mind. "Is that...why you failed Edgar?"

"We did not fail."

"N-no? Then why...why is Jayda dead? His...daughter died. I th-think that counts as failure..." That's when it happened. The most disturbing thing Auric had ever seen.

The Nahual smiled.

"That serum I injected you with does not kill, Auric. No, it only mimics death. Depending in the dosage, the effect wears off somewhere between three hours to a full day after exposure. It is a truly frightening and very rage serum indeed."

It all began to fit together. Despite the fog of his mind, Auric could see exactly what happened and how. No one could have predicted it.

"Jayda is not dead," The Nahual spoke quietly. "I injected her with this selfsame serum when I was Cecil. The effects finally came in whilst she was fighting Silve. It was lucky that he did not land a more life-threatening blow. We would have truly failed, had he done so.

"All the same, she is alive. She should be waking up around now, in fact. And since all her competitors are dead....well, I believe that makes her Victor."

"C-corin and Silve...?"

"No. We did not plan for, or even envision, their simultaneous deaths. Edgar had made arrangements to smuggle Jayda out of the Capitol while everyone else thought she was safely dead. Alas, he now needs to crown her Victor."

Auric broke out laughing.

His laughter was a garbled, broken mess. More of a hacking cough, in fact. But still he laughed. Despite everything that had gone wrong, despite all the nefarious plans and double-crosses, the 401st Annual Hunger Games hadn't been a disaster after all. For there was a Victor.

And her name was Jayda Idylwyld.