The 146th Hunger Games

The Legendary Series Part I of VIII



General Rules
1. These Hunger Games are going to work differently than other Hunger Games in the sense that there will be an actual reaping to select the tributes. From November 9th to November 16th, every user interested in submitting a tribute is permitted to do so. There's two different ways users can submit tributes:


 * a. If a user wants to submit specific tributes, they should post the tributes' links in the comments section


 * b. If a user wants to submit all or a large amount of tributes, they should post the link to their main tribute bank or the category in which their tributes can be found. (Note: Not all of these tributes will be reaped.)

2. Please try to stay active. I understand if you're busy, but at least try to comment once a week. I do highly encourage and recommend sending your tributes advice after every day in the Hunger Games

3. I will update most frequently on the weekends, although I may update sometimes during the weekdays. Depending on my schedule, some updates might be small, but I will try to update at least once every two weeks.

4. I will be using vulgar language and attempt to make scenes rather gruesome or dramatic; if either of these make you uncomfortable, I would advise not participating in these Hunger Games

5. Feel free to correct my writing in the comments, especially if there's a spelling or grammar issue. Please do not edit this page without my consent. Constructive criticism is also highly encouraged and appreciated

6. Please try to follow the template I provide as closely as possible. I don't mind if you include other fields, but please include all the ones I require. Tributes not containing most of these fields by the deadline will not be entered into the reaping

7. I will not write the reaping, chariot rides, group training, or private training sessions. The story will immediately start at the beginning of the bloodbath when the tributes enter the arena. However, tributes may experience flashbacks of the aforementioned areas

Template
Name: (first and last name)

Age: (twelve to eighteen)

District: (Capitol or Districts 0-14)

Gender: (male, female, non-binary, etc.)

Personality: (should be in a sentence format, but list of traits also accepted)

Backstory: (should be in paragraph form)

Weapons: (preferably one or two, but three is accepted)

Appearance: (preferably both a lunaii and a real life image; writing a description is optional)

Strengths: (preferred, but optional)

Weaknesses: (preferred, but optional)

Reasons for Winning: (preferred, but optional)

The Possible Tributes
Cap= Males:
 * Lysander Gale (15) - Tehblakdeath
 * Surorian Chaos (18) - SirEatAlotISTK

Females:
 * Katrina Baymor (17) - The victor of 4
 * Xena Tere (15) - Zeebem10

Males:
 * -|D0=
 * Glacier Frost (17) - SirEatAlotISTK
 * Anthony Sharpclaw (16) - JackSilenzio

Females:
 * Crystal Sagittarius (15) - Wolfgirl23c
 * Hope Timer (14) - SirEatAlotISTK

Males:
 * -|D1=
 * Tux Bowden (18) - Tehblakdeath
 * Samuel Glowe (17) - Careersarethebest11
 * Linen Moonstone (17) - Zeebem10
 * Harry Torres (17) - JackSilenzio

Females:
 * Lively Quartz (15) - Careersarethebest11
 * Zapphire O'Quaid (15) - DrXax
 * Lila Highsmith (18) - Zeebem10
 * Miiko Dejong (14) - YourFavoriteSalmon

Males:
 * -|D2=
 * Daniel Kerano (17) - Blingbae
 * Pompeii Vulcan (18) - SirEatAlotISTK

Females:
 * Jacqueline Houston (17) - LittleEclairLover
 * Harpy Diadem (18) - SirEatAlotISTK
 * Courtney Dax (18) - Zeebem10

Males:
 * -|D3=
 * Caspian Mahoney (17) - Enraptured Misfit

Females:
 * Erica Edwards (16) - Blingbae
 * Lanni Binary (16) - Zeebem10
 * Jayda Idylwyld (17) - The Targaryen of District 4

Males:
 * -|D4=
 * Tunaroa Moeaitu (18) - Tehblakdeath
 * Mack Waterborne (16) - Wolfgirl23c
 * Dempsey Corbett (18) - Zeebem10

Females:
 * In Need

Males:
 * -|D5=
 * Nicholas Mecha (16) - Tehblakdeath

Females:
 * Electra Curium (13) - Zeebem10

Males:
 * -|D6=
 * Sage Mystic (18) - SirEatAlotISTK

Females:
 * Carina Mystic (17) - SirEatAlotISTK
 * Britney Munroe (18) - LittleEclairLover

Males:
 * -|D7=
 * Boston Van Ackerton (18) - DrXax
 * Limber Dogwood (15) - Zeebem10
 * Asher Millstone (17) - Blingbae

Females:
 * Lindell Brocklehurst (15) - LittleEclairLover
 * Elia Donsown (18) - Enraptured Misfit

Males:
 * -|D8=
 * Beaux Klipschitz (17) - DrXax
 * Baron Beckett (18) - YourFavoriteSalmon

Females:
 * Felicity Caspian (17) - Zeebem10
 * Haleigh Walker (15) - JackSilenzio

Males:
 * -|D9=
 * Alpha Quells (17) - Katagma
 * Servus Vinctos (17) - SirEatAlotISTK
 * Jonah Zarate (15) - YourFavoriteSalmon

Females:
 * Omega Quells (12) - Katagma
 * Araise Hasting (16) - Enraptured Misfit

Males:
 * -|D10=
 * Avan Falco (18) - Zeebem10

Females:
 * In Need

Males:
 * -|D11=
 * Basil Winters (13) - Tehblakdeath
 * Ray Xerxes (17) - JackSilenzio

Females:
 * Lydia Waterborne (13) - JackSilenzio
 * Anna Tommie (14) - JackSilenzio

Males:
 * -|D12=
 * Ash Vile (14) - Tehblakdeath
 * Tomer Wilt (17) - Zeebem10

Females:
 * Penny Wheatgrove (13) - Zeebem10

Males:
 * -|D13=
 * Avian Dorias (13) - SirEatAlotISTK

Females:
 * Bluebell Pax (16) - Wolfgirl23c
 * Marie Groves (16) - Zeebem10

Males:
 * -|D14=
 * Caesar Sharpclaw (17) - SirEatAlotISTK

Females:
 * Cynthia DelRose (14) - Blingbae

The Careers
Tux Bowden (1), Katrina Baymor (Cap), Miiko Dejong (1), Daniel Kerano (2), Jacqueline Houston (2), Mack Waterborne (4), Zapphire O'Quaid (4), Lydia Waterborne (11)

The Anti-Careers
Jayda Idylwyld (3), Surorian Chaos (Cap), Nicholas Mecha (5), Asher Millstone (6), Haleigh Walker (8), Basil Winters (11), Jonah Zarate (12), Avian Dorias (13), Bluebell Pax (13)

The Female Alliance
Crystal Sagittarius (0), Electra Curium (5), Lindell Brocklehurst (7), Penny Wheatgrove (12)

The Sharpclaw Siblings
Anthony Sharpclaw (0), Caesar Sharpclaw (14)

The Quells Siblings
Alpha Quells (9), Omega Quells (9)

Boston's Proposed Alliance
Boston Van Ackerton (7), Tux Bowden (1) (truce), Caspian Mahoney (3)

Loners
Britney Munroe (6), Baron Beckett (8), Avan Falco (10), Araise Hasting (10), Cynthia DelRose (14)

The Careers
Tux Bowden (1), Miiko Dejong (1), Mack Waterborne (4), Lydia Waterborne (11)

The Career Outcasts
Jacqueline Houston (2), Zapphire O'Quaid (4)

The Anti-Careers (Separated)
Jayda Idylwyld (3) (separated), Nicholas Mecha (5), Asher Millstone (6), Basil Winters (11), Avian Dorias (13), Bluebell Pax (13)

The Sharpclaw Siblings
Anthony Sharpclaw (0), Caesar Sharpclaw (14)

District Three and Seven Alliance
Boston Van Ackerton (7),  Caspian Mahoney (3)

District Nine and Ten Alliance (Temporary)
Alpha Quells (9), Araise Hasting (10)

District Nine and Fourteen Alliance (Temporary)
Cynthia DelRose (14), Omega Quells (9)

The "Truce"
Tux Bowden (1), Caspian Mahoney (3), Jayda Idylwyld (3), Boston Van Ackerton (7)

Loners
Crystal Sagittarius (0), Britney Munroe (6), Baron Beckett (8)

Weaponry
Awl: $250

Axe: $300

Baton: $300

Blowgun: $550

Bow: $550

Brass Knuckles: $350

Chakram: $500

Club: $350

Club (Spiked): $450

Crossbow: $600

Dagger: $300

Darts (x12): $300

Flail: $400

Hammer: $300

Hatchet: $350

Javelin: $500

Knife: $250

Mace: $350

Mace (Chained): $450

Machete: $400

Morning Star: $450

Needles (x6): $300

Poison: $250

Quiver of Arrows (x12): $200

Rocks (x12): $150

Scythe: $450

Shield: $300

Shurikens (x12): $500

Sickle: $450

Slingshot: $400)

Spear: $450

Spike Trap: $400

Sword: $350

Throwing Axes (x3): $500

Throwing Knives (x6): $500

Trident: $500

Whip: $350

Food
Apples (x12): $150

Bananas (x12): $150

Bread (loaf): $250

Cookies (x12): $150

Crackers (x30): $100

Dried Meat (x3): $150

Energy Drink: $300

Granola Bars (x12): $200

Oranges (x12): $150

Soup: $250

Water: $300

Warmth
Blanket: $250

Box of matches: $300

Sleeping Bag: $200

Medicine
Antidote: $500

Anti-infection: $500

Burn Cream: $450

Insta-Relief: $700

Painkillers: $400

Sleep Syrup: $350

Miscellaneous
Alcohol: $500

Canteen (empty): $200

Camouflage Paints: $450

Drug of Choice: $500

Flares (x3): $350

Flashlight: $300

Gasoline: $350

Gloves: $200

Hat: $200

Net: $350

Night-Vision Goggles: $500

Parka: $300

Rope: $200

Socks: $150

Spile: $250

Wire: $400

The Sponsoring Money System
The following factors play an influence on the amount of money the tributes receive for sponsoring: During the courese of the Hunger Games, there are three different ways to earn money or receive discounts on the gifts:
 * Whether they were reaped or volunteered
 * Their district (Capitol tributes get a bonus)
 * Whether they are a Career tribute or not
 * Whether they are in an alliance or a loner (romances get a bonus)
 * Their training score
 * Their odds of winning
 * The 8 tributes in the training favoritism earn a bonus
 * Every time a tribute gets a kill, they earn $100
 * Every time a tribute gets a distinct assist, they earn $50
 * Tributes on the Capitol Favoritism for a certain day of the Hunger Games earn a discount on the gifts if they purchase the items the following day (if your tribute was on the Capitol Favoritism for Day 1, you can send them discounted gifts for Day 2, but not for Day 3)
 * Games Favoritism #1: 75% off
 * Games Favoritism #2: 50% off
 * Games Favoritism #3: 40% off
 * Games Favoritism #4: 25% off
 * Games Favoritism #5: 20% off
 * Games Favoritism #6: 15% off
 * Games Favoritism #7: 10% off
 * Games Favoritism #8: 5% off

Tributes' Uniforms
The tribute's uniforms are all the same, with the only variation being the color of their jacket and the type of undershirt they're given. All the girls wear v-neck shirts while all the boys wear crew neck shirts. The color of these polyester shirts are a lighter shade of the jacket color. The lightweight, tight-fitting, waterproof jacket has a standard collar and hood, two pockets at the waist, and is zipped in the front. While it is also wind resistant, it doesn't entirely protect the tribute from cold weather. They all wear slim-fit, dark, thermal fleece pants specifically designed to be water and wind resistant. These pants are tucked into the tributes' combat boots. The black, waterproof boots have both lace-up and zip closure, go to the middle of the tribute's calf, and have grippy soles. The color of each of the tribute's jackets are the following:

The Capitol: Cardinal Red 

District Zero: Light Gray 

District One: Orchid Pink 

District Two: Orange Red 

District Three: Daffodil Yellow 

District Four: Light Sea Green 

District Five: Pale Turquoise 

District Six: Pale Green 

District Seven: Oak Brown 

District Eight: Blue Violet 

District Nine: Pumpkin Orange 

District Ten: Blood Red 

District Eleven: Lime Green 

District Twelve: Slate Gray 

District Thirteen: Navy Blue 

District Fourteen: <font style="color: #FFC0EA">Pastel Pink 

Capitol Favoritism
The Capitol Favoritism will show who the Capitol is rooting for, but only the top eight will be shown. Each day, including training, a new chart will be added, showing who is being rooted for the most. A tribute that is on the training favoritism chart were being rooted the most during training, and the entire training days. The charts will most likely change every day, so there'll always be a new chart at either the end of the previous day or the start of the new day. When the day starts, the chart will not change. When there's less than eight tributes left, the chart will only contain as many placings as the tributes that are left.

Training scores, amount of kills, romantic relationships, and other things that impact your tribute during the Hunger Games will influence the favoritism chart. Tributes that seem to be surprising, even if they may be weak, will also influence the decision, especially if they suddenly turn out to be a crazy killer while they performed terribly on training. Many different qualities will also influence the favoritism, as those who are charming will be liked more by the Capitol than someone who is rude. Ultimately, drama will be the thing that influences your tribute's favoritism in the Capitol.

This concept was originally created by Kaeghan. If you plan on using this in your own Hunger Games, please credit Kaeghan-is-a-Tribute, also known as Kaeghan, for the creation of this.

Nicholas Mecha - District Five
As I step onto my platform, I stare at my reflection in the surrounding glass. I see a boy who's trying to make up for all the bad things he's done in life; a boy who's just trying to bring good into an evil world. He's suffered and he's been in pain, yet, he got through it; he survived at the expense of part of his soul. He wouldn't be here if he hadn't been so vulnerable to evil, and the people he loved the most would still be alive. But then again, he used his experience to warn others who might be inclined to make pacts with the devil. In the end, if he ends up saving just a single person from making a pact with the devil, he won't regret his decisions.

"Launch to commence in ten seconds," a voice says over the intercom. I close my eyes, leaning my head into the cold glass as the voice counts down. "Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

The entrance to the glass chamber closes, trapping me within it. I turn in a circle, realizing that there truly is no way out of the Hunger Games anymore. This is it; I'm entering the arena where I'm most likely going to die. As the platform rises, I stare at my stylist, who sits nonchalantly on the couch. He gets to go home after this and spend time with his family and friends. His life isn't affected by the outcome of the Hunger Games. If I go home after this, it'll be either in a wooden box or with the guilt of outliving the friends I've made. I don't know which is worse.

I lose sight of my stylist as my platform rises, and I'm surrounded with darkness for a moment. Cold, almost nonexistent fingers trace circles around my neck, causing a shiver to run down my spine. The devil is behind me, I can sense him, but I refuse to turn around and look at him.

"You'll die without me," he whispers into my ear. "All you have to do is make a simple deal."

"I'm done getting involved with you and your affairs," I say, clenching my fists. "Just leave me alone! I'd rather die an honest man than survive with your help."

"You'll be crawling back to me sooner or later." His finger loosely massages the muscles in my arms. I stiffen. "Don't be so tense. Summon me whenever you change your mind, you should still know how."

He disappears a moment later, vanishing almost as quickly as he appeared, and the tube immediately starts warming up without his presence. I bask in the warmth, closing my eyes and tilting my head back in comfort. Sunlight shines into my eyes and face, and I can feel the blood start running through my veins again. It takes me a while before I open my eyes, afraid that the devil will be in my face, yet, I subconsciously know that he's gone. I finally open my eyes when the platform stops moving, and my eyes take a moment to adjust to the intensity of the sunlight.

To my left, Araise (10) stands with a calculating look on her face, her eyebrows knitted in concentration as she analyzes the supplies in the cornucopia. I never talked to her during training, but she seemed to be a nice person. However, with no allies and a meager score of five during private sessions, I'd be surprised if she survived the bloodbath. I just hope her death is quick and painless.

To my right, Omega (9) vigorously shakes with tears running down her cheeks. Being the youngest and the smallest tribute in these Hunger Games, she has virtually no chance of winning. But she came into the arena with her brother, who will undoubtedly sacrifice himself if it allows his sister to survive. It's admirable for her brother to volunteer, but at the same time, it leaves the two vulnerable to disaster. The Capitol loves watching the heartbreaking events of tearing siblings apart. It's cruel, but the Gamemakers will do anything that keeps the Capitol satisfied.

It takes me ten seconds to find Jayda (3), who's aligned between Zapphire (4) and Cynthia (14) on the other side of the cornucopia. As soon as the gong sounds, I'm going to gather supplies and assist her in whatever way she wants. She's a good leader and a good person, but some of the things I've heard her say makes me question her sanity. I once heard her mumbling something about apparitions haunting her, but I just ignored it. Even if she is insane, I'd rather have her be leader over Surorian (Cap) any day.

Thirty seconds remain before the bloodbath starts. I shake my head, trying to push any distracting thoughts out of my head. Satan will be watching, so I must prove that I can survive without him. I clench my fists and prepare to run. Let these Hunger Games begin.

Jacqueline Houston - District Two
Twenty seconds remain before the bloodbath begins, marking the official start of the Hunger Games. While I'm eager to start shedding the blood of my opponents, I know that Tux (1), the leader of my alliance, wants us to be more focused on protecting the supplies. Although he did earn the highest training score, I don't think that he's the most fit to be the leader, as he lacks the Career persona, especially if he's more interested in supplies than kills. Surely, he has the charming looks and leadership qualities, but I haven't seen him be a bloodthirsty Career yet. Until I see it, I refuse to acknowledge his leadership.

Ten seconds remain, and my eyes lock on a sheath of throwing knives that rests just a few yards away from my platform. Bluebell (13) is situated on the platform to my direct left, so if I outrun her to the throwing knives, I could catch her unprepared and kill her. But at the same time, she did earn the same training score as me, even though she didn't stick out as a threat during training. She definitely has some tricks up her sleeves, so I have to kill her before she reveals them.

"Five," the announcer counts down. I clench my fists. "Four." I get in a crouch position, preparing to run. "Three." In my peripheral vision, I see Bluebell (13) crouch down. "Two." I zone out the sound of Omega (9) sobbing. "One." I'm entirely focused on the throwing knives.

"Let the 146th Hunger Games begin!" the announcer says as the gong sounds.

I dash forward, reaching the throwing knives faster than I expected. As I pull one out of the sheath, I turn around, throwing it right towards Bluebell's (13) head. She ducks under the knife at the last moment and grabs the nearest backpack, using it as a shield as she charges after me. I throw another knife, this one hitting her in the thigh. She stumbles a little, but keeps charging after me. When she gets too close that I'm unable to get a clear shot off, I try charging at her, knowing that it's harder to stand your ground while stationary. However, the strength she exhibits as she tackles me takes me by surprise, so I end up dropping all of my throwing knives as I drop to the ground with her on top of me.

Bluebell (13) punches me in the face, and blood starts trickling out the side of my mouth. I raise my forearms to my face, blocking myself from her blows. She still gets a good hit right to my chin, knocking my head backwards into the ground. Enraged, I headbutt her after blocking one of her blows. Using her brief moment of shock to my advantage, I grab her by her hair, yanking it to the side. She flies off of me, and I manage to get on top of her. Locking her arms down with my knees, I start strangling her. Somehow, she manages to bend her body in such a way that her ankles wrap around my neck.

"What the f*ck!" I scream, releasing my hands from her neck to yank her ankles away from mine. "Are you some kind of ninja or gymnast or something?"

After flipping me off of her, she manages to kick me in my face. Upon contact, my nose makes a sickening crunch, and blood starts aggressively flowing out of it. As I lay on the ground clutching my face, she crawls away from me, reaching for something. In my peripheral vision, I see my discarded throwing knives. I lunge towards them, but when I aim one towards Bluebell (13) before she can kill me, she stands over me, kicking the knife out of my hand. She slams her backpack into the side of my head, making me black out for a few seconds. When my eyes focus again, she's running towards Jayda (3) and her other allies. At that moment, I make a promise to myself that I will kill Bluebell (13) in the arena, even if it is the last thing I do.

Wiping blood away from my mouth, I collect my remaining throwing knives, noticing that two are missing. I realize that one of them must still be in Bluebell's (13) thigh. If she was able to fight that strong with a knife in her thigh, I wonder what she might be able to do in perfect condition. At least now I know one of her hidden tricks, so I'll be more prepared the next time we fight.

That bitch will not defeat me again, I think, chuckling as I imagine her demise.

Alpha Quells - District Nine
I've known ever since I volunteered for the Hunger Games that I was going to die to save my sister, but I never quite realized how terrifying it must be for her. If she survives, she'll hold herself responsible for my death; she'll blame herself no matter what I say or do. Listening to her sobs now as I run towards the largest backpack resting in the outskirts of the supplies, I can only imagine how terrified she must be. If I make the wrong move, she could witness my bloody demise. So I stay focused on the backpack, knowing that it might contain all the supplies we're going to get in these Hunger Games.

I reach for the shoulder strap of the backpack at the same time as Britney (6) grabs the carry handle. There's a moment where we both pause, and as we look up to stare into each other's eyes, I recognize the fear distinctly shining in her eyes. Caught completely off guard, she kicks me as hard as she can in my groin. I drop to the ground on both of my knees, grabbing at my pants as my genitals burn. Tears begin to well in my eyes, but I wipe them away, refusing to be caught on national television for crying after a girl kicked my dick.

"You f***ing bitch!" I yell as she runs away with the large backpack.

"Alpha!" Omega (9) screams frantically, and immediately my attention shifts towards her. I get up, ignoring the pain in my lower body, and run towards my sister.

When she comes into my line of sight, I slow down as she doesn't appear to be in any immediate danger. Nonetheless, as I approach, her eyes widen."Omega, I'm fine," I reassure her, but she cuts me off.

"You have to help her," she says, pointing towards a pair of tributes—Araise (10) and Lydia (11)—fighting. "You have to protect the girl with the dark hair. We're fri—" She chokes on the last word, a new wave of tears streaming down her face.

"Omega, I don't—"

"No, you don't understand," she nearly screams. "She's given me hope when all hope is lost! She doesn't deserve to die, especially not at the hands of a Career."

I open my mouth to argue, but I'm at a loss for words. If this girl is truly giving my sister the hope she needs to survive the Hunger Games, then I can't let her die so early, especially with said sister watching.

"Run away from here," I say, pointing towards the tall grass that surrounds the cornucopia clearing. "Lay down in some of the tall grass close to the edge. I'll get Araise, but I need to know you're safe."

She nods, wiping the tears away from her eyes and putting a determined look on her face. I wait until she disappears into the grass before turning my attention towards the fight between Araise (10) and Lydia (11). While the latter seems to be getting the upper hand, wielding her sickle in such a way that even the farmers back in District Nine would be impressed, the former dodges all the attacks by either jumping out of the way or blocking it with a knife. During training, Araise (10) never struck me as being an agile person, but clearly, I had not paid enough attention to her. Nonetheless, her agility will only last for a period of time until Lydia (11) picks up on her patterns, so I start moving towards the girls.

Scanning the ground for any useful supplies, I decide to grab a backpack, much smaller than the original one I wanted to grab. Frantically, I rummage through the bag, trying to reach towards a knife or a flashlight or some sort of weapon to fight Lydia (11) with. However, the closest thing to a weapon I find is an empty water canteen. I look up towards the girls fighting, estimating how much time I have left to use before I really need to help Araise (10). Lydia (11) ends up over swinging her sickle, and using the brief moment of vulnerability to her advantage, Araise (10) lunges towards the other girl with her knife, nicking the girl right in the shoulder.

"You bitch!" Lydia (11) screams, swinging her sickle with even more speed and force than she had been previously.

The sickle hits Araise's (10) right wrist, sending the knife flying out of her hand. Terrified, she tries running away, but Lydia (11) grabs her hair, yanking it so hard that she falls on her back. As Lydia (11) raises the sickle to finish her off, I dash forward with my small backpack in my left hand and the water canteen in the other. Before she beheads Araise (10), I hit her as hard as I can in the head with the canteen, knocking her unconscious immediately upon impact. Araise (10) looks up towards me with a mixture of gratitude and fright, confused as to what my intentions were for saving her.

"Thank my sister," I say, helping Araise (10) to her feet and escorting her away from the bloodbath.

Although I expect the other Careers to try to attack me for defeating one of their allies, Araise (10) and I are able to escape the bloodbath relatively untouched. The other Careers must simply be occupied on killing other tributes, I conclude, so they probably weren't paying attention to Lydia (11) and Araise's (10) fight. Honestly, I hope they were oblivious to the entire thing, as having the Careers hunting me could potentially lead to Omega (9) witnessing my death much earlier than expected. More importantly, my plans to lay low during the course of the Hunger Games would be ruined with the Careers hunting me.

Except, as I flee into the tall grass with Araise (10) behind me, I run into a rather huge dilemma: Omega (9) is nowhere to be found.

"Omega?" I shout, hastily pushing the prairie grasses aside, searching desperately for my lost sister. My breathing speeds up, and my eyes start stinging as tears threaten to escape them. "Oh God," I eventually whisper. My entire body feels weak. "I just lost the only family I had left."

Asher Millstone - District Six
Everything seems to be happening so fast, yet so slow at the same time. I stand in the middle of the bloodbath, holding a crossbow with hesitancy as I take in my surroundings. Mack (4) dominates the mouth of the cornucopia, protecting the rack of swords from the other tributes. Surorian (Cap) crouches down against the side of the cornucopia, waiting for the opportunity to grab the pair of chakrams near Mack's (4) feet. Jayda (3) fights against Tux (1) over a crate of supplies. Bluebell (13) is wrapping gauze around a knife wound in her thigh. Nicholas (5) and Basil (11) gather backpacks and food from the outskirts of the cornucopia. Avan (10) starts fleeing the bloodbath with an axe and backpack.

A shout pulls me out of my trance, and it takes me a moment to register it as Avian's (13). He engages in a battle against Katrina (Cap), whose expertise with dual daggers astounds me. Even though she earned a high training score and above average odds of winning, I assumed it was more for being a Capitol tribute, not for having any serious skills. But then again, both of the Capitol tributes this year have proven to be an exception to the stereotype. Surorian (Cap) has an evil aura surrounding him, bringing all of those around him down, whereas Katrina (Cap) appears to have been trained with daggers for her entire life. Both have been dubbed as threats from the Gamemakers, and rightly so.

Katrina (Cap) swings one of daggers towards Avian (13), leaving a gruesome gash along his right forearm. Instinctively, he grabs at his wound, trying to stop the blood flow, which leaves himself momentarily vulnerable to another attack. She lunges forward with one of her daggers, embedding it into his stomach. A bloodcurdling scream escapes his lips as he falls to the ground with the dagger prodding out of him, making the hairs at the nape of my neck stand. With his remaining strength, he tries crawling away from Katrina (Cap), but she steps on his foot, stopping him as she prepares to deliver the final blow.

No, no, no, no! keeps repeating throughout my mind, although my muscles remain stiff. I should move, I should help him, I should protect him. But my muscles refuse to cooperate. It's as if I'm in a nightmare, unable to move until the worst part finishes. I stare at Katrina (Cap) as she raises her dagger, which seems to glisten in the sunlight, and catch a glimpse of the sheer terror resting on Avian's (13) face.

That face, the face I became attracted to during training, leaves a nauseous feeling in my stomach. The thought of Avian (13) dying sparks a reaction within me, and the feeling in my muscles return. I lift my crossbow, trying to suppress my hands and fingers from shaking as I aim at Katrina (Cap). Everything seems to slow down as she starts bringing the dagger down towards Avian's (13) head. I close one of my eyes, doing my best to slow down my breathing and focus on the target as the instructor taught me during training. Although my finger still shakes as I press the trigger, the arrow goes right through and lodges itself into Katrina's (Cap) wrist, causing her to drop the dagger before stabbing Avian (13) with it.

"You asshole!" she screams, staring directly at me as she gingerly the sensitive skin around the arrow. "You're so f***ing dead!"

With the arrow still sticking in her wrist, she picks up her daggers, ignoring Avian (13) completely as she charges after me. Before I'm finished reloading a new arrow into the crossbow, she tackles me to the ground, causing me to drop said crossbow besides me. Using her legs to pin my arms away from my body, she traces her dagger against my neck, leaving a faint mark. I squirm under her body, trying to push her off of me, but my efforts are worthless as she presses the knife deeper into my neck without breaking skin.

"You might want to stop squirming," she says, leaning into my face. "It'll only make it more painful for you."

I spit into her face, my saliva landing directly in her eyes. Her disgusted look brings a smile to my face. "I'm sorry, your awful taunts made me want to throw up."

"Oh, so now we're playing dirty," she says wiping the spit out of her eyes. Her face turns red from embarrassment and anger. "Well, guess what? I can play dirtier." Without warning, she digs one of her daggers into my shoulder. I scream in pain, but she shoves her forearm into my mouth, using it to muffle my screams. "What? Am I playing too dirty for you?" she says with a wicked grin.

Because I'm a dumbass, I end up taunting her more. "Nope, not at all," I say with a forced smile, biting down on my tongue to stop myself from screaming. "Actually, I was just wondering if your definition of 'dirty' was more related to what you did in bed than torture techniques. Hell, I bet that you were all into that kinky stuff. Well, guess what slut? Torture isn't supposed to be foreplay."

"Oh, so you would rather me just skip ahead to killing you?" she says. She twists the knife in circles in my shoulder, enlarging the already deep wound.

"It probably would've been better if you had," I say, smirking. I look over her shoulder, screaming, "Now, Bluebell!"

Katrina (Cap) turns around, raising her daggers to defend herself against the attack. However, no attack comes, as Bluebell (13) nor any of my allies stand behind her. As her weight shifts to be more on my right arm, I free my left arm from underneath her. Grabbing onto my dropped crossbow, I swing it into Katrina's (13) head with as much force as I can muster. When the crossbow connects to her forehead, she's flung aside, landing on the ground besides me. I manage to get to my feet before her, standing above her with my crossbow aimed at her head.

"I must applaud you on your trick," Katrina (Cap) says, rubbing at the spot on her forehead with a visible imprint of the crossbow on it. "But you won't kill me."

"What makes you so sure about that?"

"I paid attention to you during training; actually, I paid attention to you and all of your allies. I know that you have a high morality, and I know that killing another person will internally destroy you. If you kill me, you will be—"

The rest of her words are cut off as I pull the trigger of the crossbow, sending an arrow flying right into her chest. Her eyes widen, staring at the from the arrow in her chest with disbelief. I crouch down besides her, lowering myself so that our eyes are on the same level. The mood seems to suddenly intensify and sadden between us.

"I'm really sorry," I whisper when she looks into my eyes, trying my best to sound threatening but falling short. The evilness and wickedness in her eyes before is now replaced with fear. Is she afraid of dying? "If you hadn't attacked Avian, I wouldn't have been put in this situation. But I couldn't let you kill him."

"You . . . you love . . . him?" she mumbles as blood starts filling her lungs. The excess flows from the sides of her mouth, leaving trails of blood from the corner of her lips to her chin. "You . . . you're . . . s-s-screwed.”

In different circumstances, I might’ve laughed at the comment, but this clearly isn’t the time nor the place. “I know I am,” I whisper. As I reload another arrow into the crossbow, a single tear escapes Katrina’s (Cap) eye. “Don’t worry,” I say remorsefully, fighting my urge to wipe the tear away. “It’ll all be over soon.”

She closes her eyes as I aim the crossbow at her, apparently accepting with her inevitable death. It takes me a moment before I build enough courage to pull the trigger, sending the arrow through her forehead and into her brain. Blood splatters onto my face as her neck extends much farther back that possible, but I don't have the motivation to wipe it off as guilt and regret consumes me. I watch Katrina's (Cap) corpse collapse on the ground in an uncomfortable position before moving away.

I never expected to kill someone in the Hunger Games—truthfully, I never expected to fight for my life, as if I wanted to live. However, something changed the moment I met Avian(13). I found my purpose and my determination in the clueless boy. Maybe Katrina (Cap) was right: I am screwed.

Caspian Mahoney - District Three​
From inside the cornucopia, my view of the bloodbath is obstructed by Mack (4), who stands in the entrance of the cornucopia, protecting a rack of swords. Fortunately, I managed to grab a sword before he got there, yet, when I turned around to flee, I realized the Careers had unknowingly formed a semi-circle around me, trapping me in the heart of the bloodbath. On the west side of the cornucopia, Tux (1) is fighting against Jayda (3) over a large crate, while Zapphire (4) checks Lydia's (10) vitals to see if she is still alive. Miiko (1) and Daniel (2) are protecting vital medical supplies on the other side, but something causes the duo to move away from the supplies.

"Katrina's down!" Miiko (1) screams, running across the cornucopia with Daniel (2) behind her, leaving the east side vulnerable. "It's the boy from Six! Someone get him!"

As Tux (1) yells at Miiko (1) and Daniel (2) to return to their positions, I realize that my opportunity to escape is very slim. I'd only have to get around Mack (4), but with his back turned towards me, I should be able to take him out without anyone noticing. Before the Hunger Games, when I killed people, I always preferred looking into their faces as the life drained out of their eyes. But after being reaped, I noticed that the rules have changed: killing people from behind has become the quintessence of methods, while full-frontal attacks have become repetitive. The Capitol still loves their brave warriors, yet the sly spies tend to gain more attention.

Quickly, I skulk to a position behind the crate that's closest to Mack (4), giving me a better view of the bloodbath. While Asher (6) helplessly half-carries/half-drags Avian (13) away from the cornucopia, Miiko (1) and Daniel (2) follow with weapons in their hands, decreasing the distance between them at an incredible rate. However, Nicholas (5) and Basil (11) interfere with the Career pair's path, allowing their allies to successfully flee. With all the Careers either engaging in a fight or distracted by some other issues, I put my plan of attacking Mack (4) into motion.

Gripping onto my sword tightly, I lunge towards Mack (4), shoving the crate aside in the process. As the blade pierces his back and goes cleanly through his body, I shove my left forearm into his mouth, preventing him from screaming to his allies for help. Although he bites down forcefully on my forearm, the adrenaline rushing through my veins blocks out the pain, and I only shove it further into his throat. After a moment, his biting considerably weakens along with the rest of his body, and he slumps back into me.

"Shhh, just close your eyes," I whisper into his ear, guiding him towards the ground. "Stop fighting, it'll make the pain more bearable."

"F*** . . . you," he mumbles as blood oozes out of his nose and mouth. He tries turning his head around to spit into my face, but misses. "You . . . f***ing . . . bitch."

"Well, that makes you the victim of a bitch," I say, laughing into his ear. A shiver runs through his body, and it takes me a moment to realize he's going into shock. "Aw, fading so soon? We could've had so much fun." I run the back of my hand along his cheek, although my eyes stare at his ear, a morbid idea coming to my mind. "You wouldn't mind if I take a souvenir, would you?"

As I begin pulling my sword out of his stomach, his hands clamp around the blade tightly, stopping me. For someone going into shock, I'm surprised that he seems so focused on holding the sword into place. But if he really wants to stare at the weapon that killed him, I'm not going to deny him that. In fact, I hope that he remembers my face as he stares at the blade, with full knowledge that, if the Careers hadn't broken our truce after the training scores were announced, he'd still be alive. Tragic. Karma really is a bitch sometimes.

As I grab onto a different sword with a blade the size of my forearm, his entire body freezes, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the blade protruding from his stomach. He doesn't even flinch when I graze the tip of his ear with the sword, so I don't bother covering his mouth, sensing that he won't try to scream for help. Blood splatters onto my face as I begin sawing his ear off. Although the blood stings my eyes and causes them to water, I continue sawing until his ear is barely attached to his head. Finding the last bit of skin too tedious to try to cut off, I bite down on his ear, tasting the warm blood as I rip it out of his head.

"Thanks," I say, splitting the ear into my hand and rubbing the blood off of my lips with the back of my hand. "Now I have a token."

As I start moving away from Mack's (4) lifeless form, a sharp object lodges into my shoulder blade and bicep. Pulling the object out of my bicep, I stare at the blood on the tips of the shuriken before tossing it aside. When another is thrown into my lower back, I turn towards my attacker, raising my eyebrow at Zapphire (4) as she readies another shuriken. I allow the weapon to lodge into my chest without even the slightest attempt to avoid it. Although her attacks are essentially useless, a smirk is plastered on her face anyways.

"You realize that you're just wasting your shurikens on me, right?" I say, pulling the weapon out of my chest and holding it between two fingers. "I'm actually surprised someone as experienced as a Career is so useless when it comes to weaponry. Haven't you been taught how to properly kill someone with a shuriken?"

"Oh, I'm not ashamed of my skills," Zapphire (4) says with a smirk still resting on her face. "It might not hurt you right now, but just wait until later."

From behind Zapphire (4), I notice Boston (7) sneak up behind her with twin axes. I smirk. "Sadly, time isn't on your side this time." Upon her confused stare, I nod my head towards Boston (7). "You aren't the only one with allies."

Boston (7) starts bringing his axe down on Zapphire's (4) head with tremendous force, but she somersaults away from the attack, successfully dodging it. As Boston's (7) axe gets stuck in the ground, Zapphire (4) lunges towards him with one of her shurikens, but he manages to knock it out of her hand. Ignoring the trapped axe, he swings his other axe into Zapphire's (4) hip, lodging it deep into her bone. A quick, high-pithced yelp escapes her throat before Boston (7) grabs her by the neck and starts strangling her.

Zapphire's (4) yelp seems to have alerted some of the other Careers, as Miiko (1) and Daniel (2) immediately abandon their fight against Nicholas (5) and Basil (11) to come to their ally's aid. When they come within range, Daniel (2) throws a spear towards Boston (7), but I block it with my short sword. As they keep approaching, I glance up towards Zapphire (4), noticing the color of her face has turned into a dark red and her lips have started turning purple. But before Boston (7) finishes suffocating her, he throws her at the two approaching Careers, causing them all to drop to the ground in a heap.

"Nice throw," I remark, giving Boston (7) a sideways look. "I never realized how strong you were."

"Although I appreciate the compliment, we should really start leaving," he says, yanking his axe out of the ground with a sharp jerk. "The last thing we need is to get in a fight against all the Careers." He doesn't even wait for my response before he starts moving away from the cornucopia

"You know," I say with a mischievous smirk plastered on my face. "I think we're going to be more of a threat than the Careers."

Jonah Zarate - District Twelve
I don't know what to do. As my allies are fighting other tributes and gathering supplies, I'm standing towards the outskirts of the cornucopia, confused and afraid. I planned on staying near my allies during the bloodbath, but with thirty-one other tributes running for supplies, it was easy to get lost in the chaos. Somehow, I managed to grab onto a spear and a first aid kit before being trampled to the ground by Avan (10). I had been prepared to die in that moment, curling up in a ball to brace myself for the pain, but was happily surprised when he started running away from me. Fortunately, he had been more concerned about escaping the bloodbath than killing me, so I was able to get back on my feet.

With approximately half the tributes remaining at the bloodbath, I scan the cornucopia for my allies, looking to see where I can help. Nicholas (5) and Basil (11) are gathering supplies around the cornucopia, throwing as many useful supplies as they can into backpacks; Jayda (3) engages in a fight against Tux (1), which seems to be coming towards the end; Bluebell (13) is gathering medical supplies from a nearby crate; Asher (6) already fled the bloodbath with an injured Avian (13); and Haleigh (8) fled as soon as the gong sounded. My only ally who seems to need help is Surorian (Cap), who scans the bloodbath from inside the cornucopia, presumably looking for our allies.

"Surorian!" I call out to him, waving my hand vigorously in the air so he notices me. "Surorian, come on! You're going to get killed just standing there!"

As soon as his eyes land on me, a smirk spreads across his face, but it is wiped off a moment later. Instead of moving towards me, he readies one of his chakrams. "Don't move!" he yells, hurling the weapon towards me.

Although the chakram appears to be aimed dangerously close to me, I don't move, obeying his command. During training, Surorian (Cap) exhibited amazing accuracy with the weapon, so doubting his talents now will just cause unnecessary stress. As the chakram approaches my throat, time seems to slow down. I want to close my eyes, afraid that his accuracy might have slipped and he'll hit me, but they stay fixed on the weapon. Before I'm able to register that the chakram is indeed going to hit me, the weapon slits my throat with ease before circling back to Surorian (Cap).

As I collapse to the ground, dropping the supplies in my hand in favor of reaching for my slit throat, I tilt my head back, surprised when not a single tribute or danger stands behind me. Betrayal. The single word echoes throughout my head as I stare towards the sky. How could I let myself be so gullible? Surorian (Cap) was never the nicest nor the sanest of my allies, but I didn't think he was capable of betrayal. We all pledged our allegiance against the Careers, not against one another. How could I—no, how could my alliance come to trust this insane person? And how was I so easily tricked into believing he was loyal?

"Jonah!" someone screams, and suddenly, Bluebell's (13) face is directly in my line of sight, covering the sky. "Oh my god! How did this happen? Who did this?" Questions start rolling off of her tongue, but they get drowned out by a drowsy feeling that overcomes me. "Hey. Hey!" I don't even realize that my eyes are closed until she slaps me awake, and although I'm disoriented, I focus on her face to the best of my ability. "Keep your eyes open. You'll be okay."

No, I won't, I want to say, but the words get stuck in my throat. I'm not going to be okay, I've failed my allies, my family, my brother. The corners of my eyes sting as tears threaten to escape, but once the picture of my brother flashes in my mind, the tears flow freely from my eyes, trickling slowly down my cheeks and into the grass. My brother. He's going to be at home right now, in as much safety as District Twelve has to offer. But if you didn't volunteer, he would've been the one here right now. Tears must be streaming down his face, devastated as he watches me bleed to death. But at least he'll be alive.

"Carl," I mutter his name. Bluebell (13) leans closer, putting her ear near my mouth so she can hear me better. "Carl," I repeat louder before I'm struck with a bout of coughing. As the coughing subsides, I can taste the blood on my lips. "I . . . I told . . . him . . . I would—"

"Shh," Bluebell (13) whispers soothingly into my ear, moving my head so it rests on her lap. When she starts caressing my hair, I lean into the touch, allowing her tender fingers to comfort me as I lay dying. "Carl. Was that your brother?" I nod, or attempt to nod. Either way, she seems to understand. "And you told him that you were going to win." Although it's phrased as a question, she states it in a way that shows she connected the dots. "Don't worry," she says, pressing her forehead gently against mine. "You didn't disappoint anyone."

"B-but . . . but I—" I start, but I am unable to finish when another wave of coughing hits me. Bluebell (13) moves away from my face, rubbing my back gently as she waits until I finish coughing. "I'm goin' . . . t-to . . . die a . . . l-liar."

"Don't talk like that," she says, pressing her index finger to my lips. "You're not going to die a liar, especially not to your brother. You're going to die a hero. You volunteered for him; you saved him." I notice tears forming in the corners of her eyes, but she blinks them away. "You died for him."

"I-I . . . n-nev'r . . . see . . 'em . . . again." As more blood seeps out of my neck and through my fingers, words become more difficult to piece together.

"Don't worry, you'll see them all again in the afterlife," she says, an artificial yet sorrowful smile spreading across her face. I know she's only smiling for my sake, but watching the grin spread across her face brings an involuntary smile to my own. "And you'll see all the loved ones you already lost."

"M-mom," I murmur, closing my eyes to imagine my mom waiting for me in the afterlife. She died when I was only eight years old, and all my personal memories of her have faded due to time. The only reason I remember what she looks like is because she left behind a handful of pictures. Reaching into my pocket, I grab one of the pictures of my late mother, shakily passing it to Bluebell (13). "I-I . . . s-see . . . her."

"She looks beautiful," Bluebell (13) says, examining the photo with an honest smile. "She must've been an amazing person to raise a son like you."

"T-thanks," I mumble. If I had enough blood in my face, I would be blushing. "S-she . . . was." When Bluebell (13) tries sliding the picture back into my hand, I swat it away, refusing to accept it. "K-k-keep . . . it." Another wave of coughing escapes my throat, leaving an unbearably strong metallic taste in my mouth. "G-give . . . Carl."

"I'll make sure Carl gets it," she assures me, caressing the side of my face with the back of her hand. The smile slides off of her face, and she looks a me with a genuinely upset expression. "Jonah, I need you to know that you were a great person; you never let the Hunger Games corrupt your goodness." Of course, I never really got far enough for the arena to corrupt me, but I'm not going to mention that. "You were courageous and honest and loyal. I'm so sorry you ended up in the arena." She kisses my forehead gingerly. "This shouldn't have happened to you."

"T-thanks," I manage to say before choking on some blood. Bluebell (13) seems to notice that I'm close to dying, as her arms tighten around me and she kisses the top of my head.

With the feeling in my lower body and arms being completely desensitized, the numbness continues to spread throughout the rest of my body. Everything in my body is shutting down, yet I'm not nervous. Dying in the arms of an ally—no, a friend—is the best death someone could ask for in the arena. You don't have to worry about anymore pain, nor about dying alone. Compared to all the other possible ways tributes could die, I think I was lucky. And maybe my early death was for the best. If I wasn't going to win, I'd rather have my family deal with my death early than hold onto hope as the days went on. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.

Although my eyes start blurring everything together, I force myself to focus on Bluebell (13) for a few more seconds. There's one more thing she needs to know before I die. I can't die without warning her, without warning my alliance. "D-don't . . . tr-trust . . . Suror-Sur." I don't even manage to complete the last word before all the energy drains from my body, and I collapse into Bluebell's (13) lap.

Bluebell's (13) lips are moving as my vision starts blurring everything together into a pale golden color. She must've been saying something, but whatever it was, it never made it to my ears. I can't see anything, I can't hear anything, and I can't feel anything. My spirit feels disconnected with my body, and it's almost like I'm looking at myself from an outside perspective. I can see the blood gushing from the wound in my neck, and I can see Bluebell (13) crying over my body. But there's no more pain, no more feeling, and no more life.

Penny Wheatgrove - District Twelve
Electra (5) and I crouch behind one of the crates to the side of the cornucopia, surveying the bloodbath for our allies. From across the field, Crystal (0) stealthily sneaks into the cornucopia, carefully avoiding the Careers who are stationed right near its mouth. One would expect the girl with black and blue hair to always attract attention, but I've noticed that Crystal (0) has a way of making herself invisible to people whenever she wants. On the other hand, Lindell (7) seems to have caught the unwanted attention of Anthony (0) and Caesar (14), the infamous Sharpclaw siblings. I expect her to fight back—she is the strongest in our alliance—but instead, she abandons all of her supplies, fleeing with the brothers following closely behind her.

"Oh no, Lindell!" Electra (5) mutters sympathetically. When she turns towards me, her expression is serious and confident; it's almost hard to imagine that she was always smiling and bubbly a day ago. "Penny, we have to help her. She doesn't deserve to die from those monsters." I can taste the disgust in her tone, and I'm surprised it's coming out of her mouth. But that's what the Hunger Games does, it changes people.

"We have to wait for Crystal," I argue, looking away from Electra (5) to focus on Crystal (0). "She's right behind the Careers, and she's gathering all of our supplies. We need her to get out of there."

"But Lindell—"

"—is cunning and fast," I finish for her. "Although the two brothers might be aggressive and threatening, she's got all the intelligence needed to outsmart them. I guarantee we'll see her later tonight."

She bites her bottom lip, her facial expression clearly showing that she wants to argue. However, she must realize how rash it would've been to chase after Lindell (7), as she slowly begins to nod. "Okay," she concedes. "So we're waiting for Crystal then?"

I nod. "It looks like she's almost done gathering supplies." From inside the cornucopia, Crystal (0) flings a bow and a sheath of arrows over her shoulder. Before she starts to escape, she throws a first-aid kit into the large backpack she already managed to grab. "We should get ready; I don't wanna lose our only ally with valuable supplies."

"Should we grab anything?" Electra (5) asks nervously, glancing towards the backpacks scattered around the outskirts. "I don't want to be too useless of an ally."

"There's no time now," I say as Crystal (0) escapes the cornucopia undetected by the Careers, running towards the fields across the clearing. "Come on, we have to go now!" I start running in Crystal's (0) direction, but it doesn't take me long to realize no footsteps are following me. I turn around, agitated that Electra (5) ignored my command and ran for a backpack instead. "Electra," I scream. "Leave the backpack! We have to go NOW!"

But Electra (5) ignores my screams, even if I did have her best interest in heart. By the time she slings a backpack over her shoulder, Zapphire (4) notices her. Although the Career is bleeding from her hip, she advances towards Electra (5) unfazed. I scream for Electra (5) to run, but she remains frozen solid from fear, not even attempting to dodge the shurikens Zapphire (4) throws. It isn't until four shurikens protrude from her chest that Electra (5) collapses towards the ground, her blood mixing into the green grass. By the time Zapphire (4) looms over Electra (5), the younger girl finally seems to have come out of her trance, and lets an ear-shattering scream escape her throat.

As the scene plays out in front of my eyes, my entire body remains frozen. I'm an open target, standing in the middle of the cornucopia without any protection, and although I know I need to flee if I want to survive, my legs feel as if they're cemented into the ground. Maybe this is a sort of karma for killing my parents. Maybe I'm forced to watch the death of a close ally—hell, a close friend—because I didn't do anything to save my dad. And now, I can't do anything to save Electra (5) as Zapphire (4) mercilessly takes her life.

When Zapphire (4) starts bringing a shuriken down towards Electra (5), my lungs finally start working again. "ELECTRA! NO!" I scream as Zapphire (4) lodges a shuriken deep into Electra's (5) eye. Blood squirts onto Zapphire's (4) face and the younger girl's body goes completely limp, her head falling lifelessly to the side.

At that moment, everything inside of me breaks. Tears threaten to escape my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to show weakness in front of the Capitol. Although I want to cry—need to cry—I funnel all of my sadness into anger. I'm sick of letting my emotions destroy me; I'm sick of letting sadness consume me; I'm sick of losing those close to me. When my parents died, I made a vow to never take another life, but as I look towards Zapphire (4), all I see is anger. All I want to do is take her life for taking the life of someone I cared about. At that moment, I lose myself.

A howl escapes my throat as I charge after Zapphire (4). Although I remain weaponless, my momentum and sheer anger allows me to tackle Zapphire (4) to the ground. The other girl seems surprised by my unexpected strength, and quite honestly, in the back of my brain, so am I. But I'm finally releasing all of the anger and pain and suffering I have experienced within these last few years, so I can't hold it back. All the pain I bottled up is released with each punch, and I ponder why I never considered fighting as a stress reliever.

My punches become more and more intense as more memories flood my mind, and Zapphire's (4) face turns into a nasty purplish color. As my thirst for blood becomes stronger, I scratch from her eyes down to her chin, wanting to rip the skin off of her beautiful face to reveal the devil hidden beneath it. Blood flows from her wounds and chunks of her skin get caught underneath my fingernail, but I couldn't care less as I continue clawing her face. She tries pushing me off of her, but my legs firmly clasp to her sides, so all of her attempts are wasted.

When a sharp object is thrown into my shoulder blade, my entire body rigid as pain rapidly spreads throughout my back. Another sharp object is thrown into the middle of my spine, causing the feeling in my lower body to go numb. By the time the third object is thrown into the back of my neck, I collapse to the ground beside Zapphire (4), laying on my side as I glance up towards the sky. Jacqueline (2) appears in my sight, crouching down in front of me to gain my full attention. She twirls the knife in her hand mindlessly, looking at me with a slightly amused expression.

"I have to say, I'm kind of surprised you turned out to be a little psycho bitch," Jacqui (2) says, pointing her knife at me. "You could've gotten so far if you hadn't attacked my ally."

"I don't regret it," I say, smiling. I can taste the blood in my mouth, and I spit some excess on the ground. "I just wish I could've seen her die."

"Aw, how courageous of you," Jacqui (2) says sarcastically, placing her hand over her heart as if she were touched by my words. "You really are a brave little warrior." A cruel smile spreads across her face, and her tone becomes more serious and darker as she says, "But sadly, your time is up."

I tilt my head to the side, looking at the damage I made on Zapphire's (4) face. "Just remember, I had the lowest odds," I say, enunciating each word to effectively deliver my message.

Jacqui (2) seems unimpressed—in fact, she almost looks bored—as she drives her knife down into my heart. The pain becomes momentarily unbearable before it becomes nonexistent. I never thought about what it would feel like to die, but now that I look death straight into the eye, I feel satisfied. In the end, I didn't go down without a fight.

Miiko Dejong - District One
It's ironic how the Careers, who are supposed to be the strongest and fiercest alliance in the Hunger Games, have crumbled within mere minutes of entering the arena. The first tribute to die in this arena was a Career, and another two Careers are on the ground knocked out and dying. Tux (1), the leader of the alliance, keeps engaging in a fight with Jayda (3), but he doesn't seem to be fighting with his heart. His attacks seem delicate and careful, as if he isn't even trying to kill the other girl, even though she leads the powerful alliance targeting the Careers. Jacqui (2) and Zapphire (4) are the only Careers actually killing tributes, while Daniel (2) and I are protecting our supplies and allies, exactly as we were instructed.

With most of the tributes already escaping the bloodbath, the cornucopia seems much more open and it's easier to pinpoint some of the straggling tributes. Daniel (2) fends Bluebell (13) away from some medical supplies, forcing her to leave the bloodbath. Nicholas (5) follows her with two backpacks slung over his shoulders, leaving Basil (11) alone to gather supplies. Jacqui (2) helps Zapphire (4) to her feet, and the two girls trap Surorian (Cap) inside the cornucopia. As a bloody fight pursues among them, I hear footprint approaching behind me, so I turn on my heels, raising my katana and crouching down into a fighting stance.

"Ah, already prepared for a fight," Baron (8) says, arrogant smirk spread across his lips. He twirls a spiked club in his hand in an attempt to intimidate me, but I'm aware of all of his tricks.

"You aren't intimidating me," I say matter-of-factly. He stops twirling the spiked club, raising an eyebrow as he stares at me with deep concentration.

"I heard you only volunteered so that you could kill me." My facial expression must confirm his theory, and he slowly nods his head in consideration. "Very brave of you," he says sarcastically, accompanying his words with a theatrical applause. "I never realized how stubborn you could be while holding a grudge."

I grit my teeth, anger bubbling inside of my chest. "I think I deserve to be stubborn." I control the volume of my voice, barely managing to stay below a shout. "You killed my dad. You—"

"Ruined your life," he finishes in a gaudy falsetto, placing his hand over his heart to imitate being in distress. His tone becomes more serious as he says, "I killed many other kids' parents. And you know what happens when those kids try to fight back?" He pauses to appear more threatening, but I'm unimpressed. "I kill them."

"But are they as trained or as skilled as I am?" I ask, tilting my head to the side. "Because mutilating defenseless teenagers isn't nearly as difficult as killing a trained assassin."

"Wow, all of your training went right to your head," Baron (8) remarks, smiling. "Are there any traces left of that innocent little girl?" He squints his eyes, keenly observing me. "Hmm, I guess not."

"That's all because of you." I point my katana accusingly at him. "I wouldn't have had to mature as quickly if you hadn't killed my dad."

"Oh, so you're still pissed about that?" I stare daggers into his eyes, clearly delivering my answer. "Has it ever dawned on you that I could've been doing you a favor?" he asks in a serious tone. "You think that I'm such an evil person, but you fail to remember that your dad was tangled in my affairs. Have you ever considered how good of a man he actually was, or do you only think about the dad you remember?" A sour expression crosses my face, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "You really do believe he's innocent, don't you?" After a brief pause, he continues, "Your mom left you when you were little for a reason. And that reason was your dad."

Angered by the impertinent words, I hastily lunge towards him with my katana, aiming for his heart. He sidesteps the attack easily, and counters by swinging his spiked club at my wrist while I'm in the vulnerable position. Upon contact, my wrist makes a brutal crunching noise and the katana flies out of my hand, landing a few yards away in the grass. Weaponless, I stare at Baron (8) frozen, calculating how quickly I can grab the katana without him killing me. But he doesn't make a move to kill me; instead, he starts chuckling.

"Just like I said, you are impulsive while holding a grudge." He flashes me a toothy grin, causing a shiver to run down my spine. My whole body remains tense, anticipating a brutal attack. But that attack doesn't come; instead, he lowers the spiked club, letting the tip touch the ground. I raise an eyebrow, surprised by either his stupidity or his boldness. "I'm not going to kill you . . . ''yet," he clarifies. ''

"Why?" I ask instinctively and immediately want to punch myself in the face for my stupidity.

"Well, where's the fun in that?" he asks. "Killing isn't nearly as fun or as satisfying without tormenting and torturing your victim; and as far as I'm concerned, I'm not done tormenting you yet."

“So you’re just going to run away?” I ask, crossing my arms, ignoring the pain in my wrist. “I never knew that you could be such a coward.”

“Are you really in a position to be taunting me?” he asks, threateningly taking a step forward. I hold my ground, refusing to step back. “And besides, I never said I was going to just ‘run away.’”

With a swiftness I never knew he possessed, he strikes his spiked club at my knees, causing me to collapse on the ground. Although I can feel my left kneecap shattering, I force myself to look him directly in the eye, gritting my teeth to avoid crying out in pain. Tears threaten to escape my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to let them fall. Clearly unpleased by my refusal to show pain, he swings the spiked club again, this time at my head. Stars appear in the corner of my vision as I’m knocked to the ground, and my eyes become unfocused as I watch him run away from the cornucopia.

Once again, Baron (8) has defeated me, but this time he—surprisingly—didn’t take someone’s life. Does that mean that monsters really have the ability to change? If I wasn’t in so much pain, I’d be laughing at the very thought. No, Baron (8) is a damned monster, incapable of forgiveness and mercy and emotions. But like all monsters, he will fall and he will be destroyed. My only wish is that I’ll be the one responsible for his fall, and that I’ll be able to witness it firsthand. But at what lengths am I willing to go to achieve my wish?

Jayda Idylwyld - District Three
“Look, you don’t have to accept my proposition,” Tux (1) says, swinging his sword half-heartedly at me. “But if you want to survive far in these Hunger Games, you can’t just survive on that rag-tag group of tributes you’ve allied with. The only major threat in that alliance—besides you, of course—was Surorian.” He turns towards the center of the cornucopia, watching as the remaining Career tributes surround and ambush the weaponless Surorian (Cap). “And by the looks of it, he seems to be out of the picture.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” I ask, swinging my axe half-assed at him. For the past few minutes, my focus has been primarily on discussing the terms of Tux’s (1) proposal; the actual fighting has become a sort of afterthought. “Can I even trust you?”

“Oh, Jayda,” Tux (1) says, a flirtatious smile spreading across his face. “These are the Hunger Games! You can’t trust anyone n these.” With moves that seem almost mechanical, he flips the axe out of my hand and lets the tip of his sword brush against my Adam’s apple. His smile seems to spread even wider as I instinctively raise my hands in surrender. “But then again,” he says, pulling the sword away from my neck. “I could’ve done that five minutes ago and completely ruined your alliance, but I didn’t. So as far as trust goes, I believe I have enough to satisfy.” He pauses, folding his arms across his chest. “So do you accept my proposition or not? Because it seems like time is running out.”

As if on cue, a fire erupts from the center of the cornucopia, and Surorian’s (Cap) ear-shattering screams fills the air. I peer over Tux’s (1) shoulder, watching as Surorian (Cap) lunges towards the surrounding Careers as his body is devoured in the flames. Vulgarities escape his mouth as he curses the Careers, vowing to get his revenge through whatever ways possible. Unfazed by his performance, Jacqui (2) grabs an awl, skewering it through his forehead mercilessly. As his facial expression goes slack, she whispers something into his ear before pushing him to the ground and spitting on his face, letting the rest of the flames consume him.

“I need an answer,” he says impatiently. “You’re the last one here; you literally have no time left.”

- - -

''”You’re a good fighter, especially for someone from Three,” Tux (1) said over the sound of metal crashing into metal. The blade of his sword and the head of my axe continuously clashed as we attacked, blocked, and counterattacked each other. Surprisingly, we were pretty evenly matched, although I suspected he was holding back a little from the start. But at the time, I didn’t know why. “Were you training before coming to the Capitol?”''

''“You’re tricky,” I said, barely focusing on my words. I thought he was just trying to distract me, but I’d be damned if I let this mischievous Career deceive me. “You’re not going to catch me off-guard if that’s what you’re trying to do.”''

''“Oh, I wouldn’t imagine it,” he said, swinging his sword weakly at my axe. It was the first time I noticed that his effort had dramatically decreased since the start of our fight. “Tricking someone like you would be nearly impossible, even with my irresistible charms.”''

“What do you mean ‘someone like me’?” I asked, uncertain of whether I should be offended or pleased by his words.

''“I mean someone with the capability to survive the arena through sheer intelligence,” Tux (1) answered. As I lunged once again with my axe, my swing faltered slightly, lacking the strength I initially exhibited. Although he seemed to notice, he didn’t try to counterattack me as he normally would have. “Which is why I’m going to propose a truce between us.”''

''“You do realize that I’m leading the alliance solely against the Careers?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow slightly. At that moment, our fighting shifted into being more of a staged performance for our allies than that of actual malice. “What purpose would it be to establish a truce between the Careers and Anti-Careers.”''

''“I don’t think you’re understanding my proposition,” he said. “The truce would simply be between you and me; our allies would not be a part of the truce.”''

“How could either of us benefit from a truce?” I asked, honestly confused by his proposition.

''“I thought you’re supposed to be smart,” he remarked, chuckling. “Look, if you want to get out of the arena alive, the easiest way to do so is by making as many friends as possible. Alliances and truces mean less people are targeting you and less competition. And, honestly, I’m probably one of the tributes you don’t want to have as a rival, especially when the numbers start to dwindle.” He paused, momentarily analyzing my face. “Look, from the other tributes I talked to, they’ve only seen the positives of the truce. Why are you so skeptical on the idea?”''

''“And how many tributes have you already formed a truce with?” I asked, purposely avoiding answering his question. But in my opinion, it seemed more important to know who exactly I was forming a truce with than to answer his rhetorical question.''

''“Only two other tributes, Caspian and Boston,” he said. “If you want them to know that you’re a part of our truce, we created a symbol to trace into our wrists for this very situation where we invite another tribute into the truce. But I’ll have to give it to you after the bloodbath; that is, if you accept our arrangement.”''

“And what happens if I don’t accept it?”

''“Frankly, it’d be a poor choice on your part.” The smile on his face seems to falter slightly. “You might not like me for being a Career, but having a truce with three major threats only seems beneficial.” He paused momentarily, studying my face. Whatever reaction he had expected, I must’ve failed to show it as his smile shifted into a frown. “Look, you don’t have to accept my proposition. . . ,” he continued. Although I was already sold on the idea, I continued pulling a facade of uncertainty, waiting until the last possible moment to agree to the terms as I knew he would return to the cornucopia to kill innocent tributes. Despite our truce, I still secretly condemned the Careers for their bloodthirstiness and cruelty. But having one on my side couldn’t be such a bad idea, right?.''

- - -

“I agree to your proposition,” I say quickly while the other Careers are still focused on watching Surorian’s (Cap) corpse burn. I pick up my discarded axe and throw my backpack over my shoulder. “I’ll leave a path of stones to where we should meet to discuss more about our arrangement.”

“Good,” he smiles. “Now, if you want to flee the bloodbath alive, I suggest you knock the sword out of my hand and bury your axe into my hip.” I raise an eyebrow, confused about his instructions. “We’ve been fighting the entire bloodbath, so our allies are going to expect a much more dramatic climax than you just running away,” he clarifies. “Otherwise, they might suspect we’ve formed a truce, and that’d be bad for both of us.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, I bring myself to kick the sword out of his hand, sending it flying a few feet away into the grass. He seems surprised by my method of disarming him, but I continue doing as he instructed. Quickly, I bury the head of the axe into his hip, ignoring his sharp inhale of pain as he collapses to the ground. After yanking my axe out of his hip, one of his allies shouts from the cornucopia, and I look up to see remaining three Careers running towards me. I immediately start running away from the cornucopia as quickly as possible, grabbing a small bag of rocks before disappearing into the tall grass without daring to look behind me.

Lindell Brocklehurst - District Seven
Adrenaline pulses through my veins as I maneuver my way through the tall grass, leaving a flattened path in my wake. Sweat beads down from my forehead into the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision, but I refuse to slow down. I can hear the Sharpclaw siblings following close on my heels, but I’ve been able to significantly increase the distance between us since fleeing the bloodbath. However, with the sun setting to my left, there’s only so much farther I can run before I’m force to stop due to the darkness. And for some reason, I have a suspicion that the Sharpclaw siblings will be even more dangerous at nighttime, as if they are nocturnal predators.

As I continue running, the surrounding environment starts to shift. The tall grass starts thinning out, and it eventually gets to a point where the chest-high grass is spaced out in uneven clumps. Instead of having nothingness in front of me, coniferous trees start scattering my vision and I’m gradually surrounded by them. Although my access to sunlight becomes restricted, I’m still able to maneuver myself agilely between the trees and shrubs. After all, I am from District Seven—trees and nature are my domain.

Behind me, the sounds of the Sharpclaw siblings stepping on branches and twigs become more and more faint, as they are clearly not as adept to the forest as I am. While I move gracefully to avoid making noise, the brothers don’t seem to care about their racketing as long as they catch me. I assume they’re far behind me, but when I chance a glance behind me, I realize that they’re closer than I thought. Fatigue threatens my legs, but I force myself to speed up, pushing my body to the extremes. If I manage to get a little more distance from them, I should be able to climb a tree without them catching up to me.

My chances of fleeing up a tree, though, become diminished as a body of water appears in my direct line of sight. It seems to extend indefinitely to the left and right, so I know that if I try running along the edges, the brothers could easily catch up to me. As I continue approaching the water, I notice that I can see land beyond it, so the idea of swimming across comes to my mind. With my limited knowledge of swimming, I’d have to rely on the possibility that the Sharpclaw siblings either don’t have experience with swimming or aren’t fast at swimming. But with fatigue already threatening to slow down my body, I realize I don’t have much choice if I plan on surviving. A possibility is a possibility, and it is the only hope I have on surviving. Before I have a chance to second guess myself, I dive into the water.

The chill of the water hits me first, causing a shiver to run down my spine, and my muscles start to tense. As I try swimming towards the opposite side of the river, I’m overpowered by the strong current, which pulls me farther down the river than I expected. My lungs start burning from the coldness and the deprivation of oxygen, forcing me to have to thrash around to get my head above the water. When I do, I notice that neither of the Sharpclaw siblings jumped into the water after me, as they stand at the edge of the river, talking loudly.

“Don’t bother going after her, she’s already dead,” the older Sharpclaw brother says with a snarl. He opens his mouth to say more, but I don’t hear what he says as I’m pulled under water again.

I struggle to stay above the water due to the intensity of the current. The freezing temperature of the water continues to cause my muscles to stiffen, and I eventually lose all feeling in my lower body. When I do occasionally manage to get my head above the water, I’m only able to take one large breath of air before I’m pulled back under. Water forces itself up my nose and into my mouth, causing me to cough and gag. Any attempt to swim towards the edge of the river is futile and pointless, as I only end up wasting energy trying to counter the direction the current is taking me.

I don’t know how far I’m dragged until the intensity of the current starts to weaken and sweeps me into an ocean. Everything in my body hurts from the coldness of the water and the overexertion of my muscles, but I ignore the pain, my mind focusing solely on survival. When I’m able to tread above the water, I brush my hair out of my eyes, allowing me to get a good look of my surroundings. Trees are no longer anywhere in my line of sight, but instead, sand and splotchy areas of green grass are in front of me. Gradually, the splotches of grass become more dominant, shifting into the tall grasses I previously ran through. I conclude that the current must’ve swept me towards the south, in the direction of the cornucopia.

I barely crawl out of the water before I collapse on the sand, which seems to be radiating heat from soaking in the sun all day. Maybe I should trudge towards the tall grass and possibly find somewhere to hide, in case a tribute happens to be nearby, but the temptation to stay in the sand is too strong. The warm sand relaxes my muscles, and for a brief moment, I’m able to forget about the inevitable hypothermia I’m going to contract from swimming. My eyelids become heavy from the comfort, and before I know it, I’m drifting asleep. I know I should move—my efforts of fleeing the Sharpclaw siblings will be pointless if another tribute kills me in my sleep—but I don’t have the correct mentality to do so. So I just lay down with the sand sticking to my skin and fall asleep.

Zapphire O'Quaid - District Four
I force myself to scan the cornucopia, taking in the grotesque surroundings. Katrina’s (Cap) corpse lies in the mouth of the cornucopia, the tip of an arrow sticking out of her cranium. Blood seeps out of the wound, dyeing her white hair into a nasty, reddish color. Nearby are the remains of her district partner, Surorian (Cap). I watched as the Careers set him on fire, letting the flames consume his legs and lower body. Most of his clothes have been burned off along with his skin, allowing me to see his blackened tibia and fibula. However, it wasn’t the fire that killed him; it was the knife skewered into his forehead. Blood seeps from the knife wound down to his lifeless eyes, making it appear as if he’s crying blood.

I nearly throw up when my eyes move to Mack (4), whose corpse rests in a pool of blood. Twenty four hours ago, we were being interviewed. Eighteen hours ago, we were talking about our lives back in District Four. Twelve hours ago, we were eating our last full meal before entering the arena. Six hours ago, we were being escorted from the training center to a hovercraft. Two hours ago, we were hugging before being brought into separate rooms to prepare for the Hunger Games. Now, I stare at the sword protruding from his stomach, allowing a steady flow of blood to feed into the bloody pool underneath him.

If I noticed he was being attacked by Caspian (3) just a minute before, I could have prevented the ambush; I could have saved him. Mack (4) would still be alive, settling the dispute between Tux (1) and Jacqui (2). He could have won the Hunger Games, return home to District Four, become a father, share my story to his children, and die peacefully in the comfort of his home. But I was too late. The best I could have done was seek vengeance for Mack (4), which I did. Caspian (3) won’t realize what’s happening to him until it’s too late; he’ll already be succumbing to his wounds. All I can do now is wait for his cannon.

As if on cue, the cannons start booming throughout the arena. One for each of the fallen tributes. Three of the cannons will be for the fallen Careers: Katrina (Cap), Mack (4), and Lydia (11). Two will be for the fallen Anti-Careers: Surorian (Cap) and Jonah (12). The rest will be for the foolish weaklings who mistakenly chose to participate in the bloodbath. For the living tributes, each of the cannons should be music to our ears; it brings us one step closer to getting out of the arena. But some of the cannons carry heavier weight than the others.

Instinctively, I count the number of cannons as they sound. ''One. . . two. . . three. . . four. . . five. . . . . . '' The cannons stop. Only five? I tilt my head to the side, scanning the corpses scattered around the bloodbath clearing. ''Seven tributes died, unless. . . ''

“Guys!” I scream, only getting the attention of Miiko (1) and Daniel (2). “Two of the corpses are still alive!”

“That’s definitely the wrong word choice,” Daniel (2) comments. “But I think I know what you mean.” While he turns towards Miiko (1), he explains, “Only five cannons sounded, but we counted seven fatalities in the bloodbath.”

“Do you think we should tell those two?” she asks, pointing towards Tux (1) and Jacqui (2). “Or should we just let them continue arguing?”

“We probably should—tell them that is. Otherwise, they might turn their anger towards us,” I say. “I’ll even volunteer to do it. You two start checking the corpses’ pulses.”

As I approach the two arguing Careers, I’m able to decipher their yelling into actual words. “Are you f***ing kidding me? You think that you should still be our leader?” Jacqui (2) screams at Tux (1), on the verge of hysteria. “Your strategy of focusing on gathering supplies over killing tributes clearly didn’t work. Almost half of the deaths in the bloodbath were Careers! Maybe if we focused on killing—”

“More of us would be dead,” Tux (1) cuts her off, brows furrowed. “And besides, these are the Hunger Games. Tributes are going to die! The bloodbath merely distinguished the strong Careers from the weak Careers. We should actually be ashamed of accepting such tributes into the alliance.”

“Hey!” I scream, loud enough to get both of their attentions and render them speechless. “Two of the ‘dead’ tributes are actually still alive,” I say in a softer tone. “If you two could stop bickering and help check pulses, that would be wonderful.”

“Do you think someone faked their death?” Tux (1) asks, cocking an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly unheard of. But it would be pretty stupid of—”

“Zapphire!” Daniel (2) excitedly screams, cutting Tux (1) off mid-sentence. When I turn to face him, I immediately notice that he’s kneeling besides Lydia (11) with two fingers in the crook of her neck. Hope flutters in my chest as I start rushing towards the injured girl, with Tux (1) and Jacqui (2) following closely behind me. “She still has a pulse,” Daniel (2) informs us. “I think she must’ve been knocked out by someone. There’s a nasty bruise on the side of her head; it looks like she might have a concussion or a brutal headache when she wakes up.”

“So we only lost two allies in the bloodbath,” Tux (1) concludes. “But fortunately, with the supplies and medicine we maintained, we should be able to heal until everyone is in a nearly perfect condition.”

“Are you really trying to throw shade at me now?” Jacqui (2) asks, crossing her arms.

“Not necessarily,” Tux (1) responds with a smug smile plastered on his face. “But by protecting the supplies, we were able to secure vials of poison, a handful of antidotes, some anti-infection medicine, burn creams, bottles of painkillers, and a tube of insta-relief.”

“Unfortunately, the insta-relief will be useless for Lydia,” Daniel (2) says. “It must be applied directly to the injury, so it’s pointless against concussions and other brain damage.” He pauses. “You should give it to Miiko, she’s been hobbling around with a shattered kneecap since the bloodbath.” I glance towards Miiko (1), observing the thick layer of gauze wrapped around her knee and the spear in her hand acting as a substitute for a cane. “If she doesn’t get it treated soon, she might be immobilized for the rest of the Hunger Games.”

“And if it’s only for Miiko’s knee, we might not use all of it,” I add. “The rest can be preserved for future use or used on our existing injuries. I mean, at this point, bandages and anti-infection medicine should suffice.”

“That sounds good to—”

“Guys!” Miiko (1) screams hysterically. Everyone’s instincts seem to align, as we all grab for our weapons of choice while hastily turning towards Miiko (1). But she isn’t being attacked by one of the ‘dead’ tributes; instead, she’s staring at Mack (4) with wide eyes. “Mack still has a pulse!”

“Mack’s still alive!” I exclaim, dropping my shurikens as I run towards my not-so-fallen district partner. Although I trust Miiko’s (1) word, I’m inclined to feel his pulse myself, so I kneel besides Mack (4) and press two fingers gingerly in the crook of his neck. It takes a few seconds before I can feel the soft pounding of a pulse. Weak but still beating. Tears of joy threaten to escape my eyes, but I shake them off, putting on a confident facade instead. “Guys, we can still save him,” I say, standing up to face the other Careers. “But I’m going to need the insta-relief.”

“Do you really think you can save him?” Tux (1) asks, visibly tightening his hold on the tube of insta-relief. “He’s already lost so much blood. As soon as we take that sword out of his stomach, he’s going to be dead. Honestly, we can all agree that it’ll just end being a waste of supplies.”

“I don’t give a shit if it ends up being a waste of supplies and he dies,” I argue, becoming increasingly more angered and defensive. “What matters is that we tried to save his life. If the situation was reversed and you were the one with the sword in your stomach, wouldn’t you want someone to at least try to save you?” I pause, waiting for him to concede. When he nods, I continue, “Exactly! Now hand me the insta-relief. I’m going to save Mack’s life.”

Cynthia DelRose - District Fourteen
As the sun approaches its early stages of setting, I kneel down in the sand besides the ocean, tracing an outline of the arena and piecing it together to the best of my ability. I would assume that the cornucopia rests in the center of the arena, but in recent years, the Gamemakers have been ignoring that precedent, favoring it to be situated where the most action is destined to occur. Nonetheless, prairies surround the cornucopia clearing from every side, with no signs of mutations within them. In the southern region, the prairies cover the entire landscape up until the coastline, where it favors sand instead of tall grass. While traveling along the coastline, I encountered multiple kayaks, canoes, and rafts, so I would assume there are other islands in the arena. However, this may just be a ploy by the Gamemakers, as I haven’t seen any distant islands yet.

The sound of a someone stepping in the sand nearby draws my attention, and I instinctively crouch into a defensive position, prepared to strike if necessary. Swiftly and quietly, I creep towards the tall grass, using it as a camouflage as I approach the unaware tribute. I move painstakingly slow to prevent the grass from ruffling, so I don’t accidentally notify the tribute of my presence. As I inch towards the edge of the tall grass nearest to the tribute, I notice the long, black and blue hair from between the blades of grass. There’s only one tribute with that exotic hair color: Crystal (0).

Crystal (0) walks around a wooden raft, nudging it with her foot to inspect its sturdiness. The large backpack on her back draws my attention, but its the silver bow resting in the sand that peaks my interest. I wonder how she was able to secure one of the two bows from the bloodbath unscathed, unless the Careers never saw her. Maybe she has more skills than I thought a celebrity would have. Nonetheless, I need to get my hands on that bow if I want to survive.

When she starts pushing the raft towards the water, I realize that my opportunity to steal the bow is slowly diminishing. She throws her large backpack on top of the raft, leaving the bow sitting in the sand behind her. I quickly scan Crystal (0) for signs of any hidden weapons in her pocket or waistband, but it seems like she only managed to grab a bow in the bloodbath, meaning she’s currently defenseless. Even if she manages to reach the bow before me, it’ll be useless in such close quarters against my knife. Basically, she’s the defenseless prey and I’m the bloodthirsty predator.

Forcing myself not to rethink my decision, I rush forward towards the bow, clutching a knife in my right hand. After a few strides, I realize that the sand proves to be my greatest enemy, as it significantly slows down my speed and makes enough noise to alert Crystal (0) of my presence. The older girl immediately freaks out, slipping and falling into the sand out of panic. Within seconds, she manages to recover, bolting towards her bow with impeccable agility. When both of us are only a few strides away from the bow, I choose to slow down, thoughtfully refraining from beating Crystal (0) to the weapon. Instead, as she bends down to grab it, I surprise her once again: I tackle her.

A scream escapes her throat as I pin her to the ground, yet she somehow manages to maintain her grip on her bow. I position my knees in a manner to immobilize her legs and hold her wrist down to the ground with my left hand, preventing her from using the weapon. Nonetheless, she fights back with her free hand, digging her long nails into my right cheek relentlessly. I can feel the blood dripping down my face from her deep scratches, which eventually reaches the corner of my mouth, filling it with a metallic taste. When she notices the knife in my right hand, she becomes even more frantic, squirming brutally underneath my hold and throwing punches blindly at my face. I block the punches easily with my forearm, and as I poke the knife tentative into her neck, she goes deadly still.

“‘There’s a path we can walk through the loss and the pity,’” Crystal (0) recites. Before the Hunger Games, I did extensive research on each of the tributes with my mentor, so I’m able to identify the words as lyrics to one of the first songs released by the Starry Sentinels, her sibling band. “‘She’s out of the light, she thought it’d be safer / She said I wanna go home / Eyes turn grey like her face in the paper / She said I wanna go home.’”

“You want your last words to be lyrics to one of your songs?” I snort. “That seems terribly dull and unimaginable, but I must admit, you choose the perfect song. How does it end, again?” I taunt, tilting my head to the side. “‘There’s someone else here, we’re not alone / This will all be over tonight.’” A wide smile spreads across my face. “I have to admit, I appreciate the irony.”

“Ah, but will it just be over for me tonight?” she asks coldly. “Because I guarantee killing me will destroy your chances of gaining sponsors.” She returns my wide smile. “If you haven’t realized, I happen to be a big deal in the Capitol.”

“I think I’m going to test my odds,” I reply cooly, not feeding into her gibes. “During the Hunger Games, the Capitol is more interested in bloodthirsty killings than traumatized celebrities.” Her eyes go a shade darker; I must’ve struck a nerve. “Besides, isn’t this what you asked for when you refused volunteers? You are practically begging to be killed.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “Have fun at your family reun—” The sound of the grass ruffling causes my whole body to freeze, the knife wavering just inches above Crystal’s (0) throat.

“Hmm, that definitely sounds like two tributes, doesn’t it?” Crystal (0) asks, surprisingly calm with an indifferent face. “In fact, I’d bet it’s either the Sharpclaw siblings or Caspian and Boston. Either way, you’re f***ed!”

I tilt my head to the side, attentively listening to the two nearby tributes to visualize their location. Judging by the carefulness of their movement, I assume they are exploring the arena or hunting for tributes, but they’re at least a kilometer away. Fortunately, they must not have heard us yet, as their movement lacks liveliness. I voice this observation to Crystal (0).

“Yet,” she emphasizes, lips twitching into a smirk. “But if you move that knife even a centimeter closer to my throat, I’ll scream so loud that everyone on this island will know our location.”

The two approaching tributes sound as if they are within half of a kilometer, much too close for my comfort. “I’ll tell you what,” I whisper. “I’m not in the mood to call your bluff, and those two tributes are getting closer.” A loud ruffle of the tall grass supports my statement. “I’m going to let you go, but if we ever cross paths again, I will slit your throat before you can even blink. Got it?” I pause, waiting for her to nod before continuing. “Good.” I consider negotiating for her bow, but refrain from it, as it might cause her to do something reckless to get both of us killed. “Now I don’t want any funny business; as soon I get off of you, you’re going to run in the opposite direction. Understood?”

“Understood,” she says, an appreciative smile spreading across her face. For a moment, I wonder if her whole coldhearted demeanor was just a facade, but I push it aside. Who am I to judge if someone wants to act like a coldhearted bitch while looking death in the eyes?

When I stand up, freeing her trapped limbs from my control, she hurriedly flees with her bow and sheath of arrows. Hopefully, her rowdy exit will draw the attention of the nearby tributes, but if it doesn’t, I refuse to remain a stationary target. While scanning the surroundings, I realize that Crystal (0) must’ve been more terrified of me than she acted, as she didn't even attempt to retrieve her large backpack situated on the wooden raft. But her loss will end up being my gain.

I approach the raft and reach out to grab the large backpack, but I freeze as soon as I hear the ruffling of the grass loudly; the tributes are now near the border of the coastline and the tall grass. But it’s the footsteps that throw me off guard, as they don’t sound as heavy or as confident as I expected. In fact, judging by the lightness and hesitancy of the steps, I’d assume the advancing tributes pose no threat to my life, so I consider directly attacking them. Nonetheless, two tributes outnumber one, so I analytically formulate an indirect plan of attack.

Looking down at the raft, I notice that the slender logs are held together entirely by a complex arrangement of rope, with three opposing logs underneath maintaining its foundation. If the rope were to be cut, the entire raft would fall apart as soon as someone stands on it. But if I want to potentially kill the incoming tributes, I’d need the raft to crumble when they’re in the deeper water. Using my knife, I carefully nick the rope in four random places, precise enough to avoid cutting completely through it while leaving it thin enough to possibly snap. I flee shortly after to avoid confronting—and possibly scaring away—the two tributes.

By the time the two tributes reach the coastline, I’m about halfway towards my ideal hiding spot at the edge of the tall grass. Fortunately, I’m far enough away from the raft to be out of their eyesight, so I’m able to quickly dive behind a pile of sand without being noticed. I listen to the two tributes as they walk tentatively on the sand, while I subconsciously squeeze my knife tighter in case they journey into my line of sight. In fact, I don’t bother loosening my grip on the knife or daring to peek my head above the sand until I hear them pushing the raft away from shore. It isn’t until then that I know who will be my victims.

Omega (9) sits down in the center of the raft, tugging her knees closer to her chest as they travel farther and farther away from the coast. I can’t see her facial expression, but her body posture suggests she’s terrified, panicked, upset. Since her brother is nowhere in sight, I presume that he was killed in the bloodbath, as the two were practically inseparable during training. But she isn’t alone; her brother seems to be replaced by a young, blonde-haired girl. The girl shares many similar characteristics with Haleigh (8), but I don’t remember seeing the two of them talk once before the Hunger Games. Nonetheless, they seem to be allies now.

As soon as the two girls encounter a patch of rough water, the raft starts to gradually fall apart. Haleigh (8) frantically tries to hold it together with her arms, but the waves prove to be too troublesome. A large wave comes down on the two girls, forcefully knocking them off of the raft and causing the raft to crumble into its individual logs, exactly as I had envisioned. I watch as the two girls are swallowed by the dark water, anticipating their cannons to sound. But only one cannon sounds, followed by a prolonged silence as I confusedly scan the water for the survivor.

Suddenly, the twelve-year-old girl with red hair bobs her head above water, flailing her arms and pleading for help. She manages to grab onto one of the logs, using it as a flotation device to stay above the water, but her pleading never ceases. Although her screams are devastating and disturbing, a smile slowly grows across my face as I realize my first kill was Haleigh (8). Killing an older girl will definitely allow me to be more favorable for earning sponsors than killing a meek twelve-year-old. Additionally, there’s only so long that Omega (9) can tread water before she becomes too exhausted and ends up drowning, so I could potentially end up with two kills before nightfall. And with each kill, I’ll earn more sponsors and have more money.

With that thought in my mind, I turn away from the coast and journey into the tall grass, leaving the frantic twelve-year-old unsupervised in the middle of the dark water.

Sofia Brielle - District Ten
The only real escape from the arena is death; for once you win the Hunger Games, you become intertwined with it forever. I was foolish to believe that there might be a “happily ever after” when I returned to District Ten after killing my last opponent. But when I returned home, the nightmares still haunted me and the terror still crawled underneath my skin. I was foolish to believe that the Capitol would let me live out the rest of my life peacefully until I pass away from natural causes. But the Capitol controlled my every movement, forcing me to give speeches in every district during the Victory Tour and to fake a smile during the annual reaping. I no longer have any control of my own life; everything from now on will be staged and structured to the Capitol benefit.

As I glance around the empty mentors’ room, I’m tormented by visualizations of what might—or might not—have gone down in this room just a year ago. The couches and chairs would have been abandoned in favor of bar stools, yet the large television in the center of the room would have stayed on to avoid any unfavorable attention from the Gamemakers. This room would have been desolate, with the only noise deriving from the useless babble of the televised Capitol commentators and the inconsistent pings from the stranded tablet computers distributed to each mentor for their tribute. While I struggled to find a potable source of water, the mentors struggled to avoid intoxication. When I was a tribute, I would have been enraged and offended if I knew that my mentor was drinking as I was battling for my life in the arena, which would have definitely been justifiable.

But now that I’m a mentor, I can sympathize with the urge to drown myself in beers, booze, whiskey, or whatever alcohol is available. Simply watching the bloodbath brought back memories I wish I could forget; the memories of my experience in the arena that have been dominating in my nightmares. Before I entered the arena, I could distance myself from the innocent victims and ruthless killers. But now, every confrontation between tributes brings me back to the bloodbath and the arena; every kill brings back the complex sensation of being guilty for taking a life yet being hopeful for becoming victorious; and every fallen tribute brings back the faces of my victims. Will I always be tortured by these nightmares and flashbacks when a new set of tributes enter the arena?

When the Capitol anthem starts, my attention snaps towards the large television, watching as each of the fallen tributes is displayed across the screen. It almost feels weird to watch the fallen anthem on a television again as opposed to watching it appear in the night sky. Hell, it feels weird that I know exactly whose faces will be displayed, yet I’m still on the edge of my seat from anxiety. But as I watch the fallen tributes’ faces appear one by one, I realize that I’m not thinking about the tributes at all. Instead, my mind is focused on the mentors and their responses to their tribute’s death.

The first two faces happen to be the Capitol tributes, mentored by Leif and Marianna Alidee, a pair of siblings who won the Hunger Games only a few years apart. The siblings were confident their tributes stood a chance at victory, which significantly increased as the training scores and odds of winning were revealed. But it appears that their tributes weren’t prepared for the arena. Katrina (Cap) died within seconds of the bloodbath, surprising Marianna so much that she dropped her tablet on the ground, shattering the screen into millions of pieces. On the other hand, despite all of Leif’s shouts to flee the bloodbath, Surorian (Cap) managed to be the last non-Career tribute in the cornucopia and furthermore the last bloodbath victim. As his body was set up fire, Leif bowed his head in defeat, covering his face with both of his hands.

Following the fallen Capitol tributes are the faces of the District Five and District Eight female tributes, two tributes everyone knew would die from the start. Isla Ampere, the District Five female mentor, effortlessly tried to prepare Electra (5) for the arena, becoming dangerously attached to the young and vulnerable girl. But those efforts were wasted. After the young girl’s death, I was able to catch a glimpse of a tear falling down her cheek before she left the mentors’ room. Contrarily, Lorelei Haynes, the District Eight female mentor, was quite optimistic when Haleigh (8) survived the bloodbath, even if she fled with no supplies. But Lorelei left the mentors’ room immediately after the bloodbath alongside the other mentors; I don’t know if she’s been notified of her tribute’s death yet.

The final two faces are the District Twelve tributes, mentored by the famous Melanie Fray and Lyla Charmaine. Despite their tributes’ underperformance in these Hunger Games, the duo has been commended by the Capitol for being the most effective mentors from District Twelve. Within the last decade alone, over a third of the District Twelve tributes have placed in the Final Eight, with two of them even becoming the runner-ups of their respective Hunger Games. Although Jonah (12) and Penny (12) were young and inexperienced, nobody expected both of them to die nearly simultaneously in the bloodbath. Mel and Lyla shared matching dumbstruck looks as their tablets flashed red, obviously taken aback by their tributes’ deaths.

How will I react when—if—Araise dies? I wonder morbidly as the Capitol seal reappears on the screen, symbolizing the end of the fallen anthem. Will I scream or will I cry?

Daniel Kerano - District Two
Trust—defined as a firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something—is the most challenging principle to comprehend in the Hunger Games. All families, friendships, partnerships, and stable relationships require trust; yet alliances in the arena commonly lack it. Alliances are created solely for the purpose of increasing one’s survival and for personal convenience. Why else would the tributes from the Capitol and Districts One, Two, Four, and Fourteen typically come together to form the Career alliance? It’s definitely not because we trust one another; it’d be absolutely irrational to trust someone within days of meeting them. Instead, we create the Career alliance because we know all of us are trained, deadly, and dangerous. Simply, it’s the most beneficial and most convenient for us. But lacking trust does come with its disadvantages.

As I glance from one of my allies to the next, I realize that the lack of trust among the Careers could easily lead to its downfall. At the center of this mistrust is the relationship between Tux (1) and Jacqui (2). With every new command, it’s becoming increasingly evident that Tux (1) has been trying to distance himself from Jacqui (2) by giving her the jobs usually designated for the most useless ally. However, everyone in the alliance knows that Jacqui (2) is the only Career capable of winning a fight against Tux (1), so it seems like the older boy is almost afraid—or, I guess, suspicious—of my district partner.

Furthermore, the Careers are divided between who they support. While Miiko (1) and Mack (4) appear to side with Tux (1), Zapphire (4) and I side with Jacqui (2). The deciding vote will be determined by Lydia (11), who hasn’t made her position clear yet. While she seemed to be more focused on killing tributes than protecting supplies during the bloodbath, she may side with Tux (1) due to Mack’s (4) support, as the younger Waterborne seems to trust in her cousin more than any other ally. But as soon as she clarifies her decision, a civil war will erupt among the Careers; a civil war that will permanently incapacitate the alliance.

“Hey Daniel, are you even listening?” Tux (1) asks, waving his hand in front of my face. I shake my head, clearing myself from the trance. “Damn, what were you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” I instinctively say. He rolls his eyes, obviously unamused with my answer. “Sorry, what were you saying again?”

- - -

“Let me get this straight, you woke me up two hours'' earlier than everyone else so that you could tell me that you trust me?” Jacqui (2) asked irritatedly, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrow. “Why, exactly, do you think I even care about your trust?”''

''“Because I know of your plans to usurp Tux as the leader of the Careers.” I noticed her body tense and her eyes widen, erasing any trace of irritation from her face. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything about it. In fact, I’m actually on your side for this; the Careers need a stronger leader.”''

''“And you believe that I could be a stronger leader?” Jacqui (2) asked, a skeptical look crossing her face. “Or is there possibly another reason that you’re hiding from me?”''

''“Nope, no other reason. All I ask in return is a truce, in the case that the entire alliance ends up falling apart.” I narrowed my eyes when I noticed her hesitate. “And believe me, it’ll be in your best interest,” I continued. “Tux seems to confide and trust in me; I could almost be your inside man. You know, even Brutus needed his Cassius to overthrow Caesar.”''

''“Wait, did you just compare Tux to Julius Caesar?” Jacqui (2) questioned. “How do you even know about Caesar?Roman History wasn’t a required course at the Career Academy.”''

“Wait, you understood that reference?” I knew that Jacqui (2) was intelligent, but I didn’t think that she would understand a reference to an Ancient Roman dictator.

''“What, did you just assume that I’m stupid?” Jacqui (2) raised an eyebrow, challenging me to continue speaking. “Because I’ll let you know, I’ve taken every optional course available at the Academy.”''

''“No, I didn’t think you were stupid,” I clarified. “It’s just that nobody in our district really knows about Julius Caesar or, really, any ancient dictators and politicians. The only reason I know about him is because of my girlfriend.” I paused, inhaling and exhaling once before reintroducing my question. “Anyways, are you interested in forming a truce or not?”''

''“Hmm,” she hummed, placing her index finger on her lips. At that moment, I knew she would agree to my proposal; her hesitance was only a ruse. “As long as you have no intention of backstabbing me if things go amiss, I’ll agree to your truce.”''

- - -

“I was wondering if you would like to be promoted to the second-in-command of the Careers,” Tux (1) says, quickly glancing over his shoulder at our ignorant allies. “You’re one of the few people I trust in the arena, and, with your close relationship to Jacqui, I’m going to need your help getting rid of her.” He pauses, scanning my facial expression. “Unless, of course, you’re more loyal to Jacqui than you are to the Careers.”

“Jacqui is a crazy and narcissistic bitch,” I declare, focusing on maintaining a neutral facial expression. “It’d be irrational to have her lead the alliance. She’s proven to be too troublesome.”

“It’s good to know that I have your support.” He smiles maliciously. “Because with my plan, she’s going to be dead before dusk tonight.”

Linus Calypso - District Six
When I enter the mentors’ room after breakfast, I’m surprised to find three other mentors already in the room, as it’s usually vacant before noon, especially after the first day of the Hunger Games. Noelle Fidelity and Liam Ianthe—one of the District One and District Two mentors, respectively—sit together at a table in the kitchen portion of the room. They stare at me momentarily as I stand in the doorway before returning to their hushed conversation. In the living room area, Emery Quinn, the District Fourteen female mentor, lays down on a couch, watching the Hunger Games on the large television. Although I don't think she considers us friends, we won consecutive Hunger Games, so an easy camaraderie has formed between us as we’ve grown together as mentors.

When Emery sees me standing in the doorway, she gestures for me to come over to the couch, sitting up straighter to give me enough room to sit. “Thanks,” I say as I relax into the couch. “How’s Cynthia doing in the arena so far?”

“Let’s just skip the formalities,” she says bluntly. I would have been more offended had I not known that Emery hates dealing with useless small talk; she would much rather get straight to the point, viewing it as the most efficient way to have a conversation. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask defensively, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve literally done nothing.”

“Really?” she questions. “Then how, exactly, was Avian sponsored with insta-relief this morning? Because, as far as I could tell, Seraphim was one of the last people to leave the bar this morning. There’s no way he could’ve possibly sponsored his tribute with that medicine.” She pauses, leaning forward to stare into my eyes. “But you, you left the bar before midnight, giving you the perfect opportunity to send the gift before Avian died.”

“What do you want me to say?” I shrug. “That I used my own sponsoring money to send Avian the medicine? That I wanted to save my tribute’s last remaining ally? I believe my reasons were justifiable.”

“You’ve never sent a gift to another tribute before,” she points out. “So don’t try lying to me that you saved Avian for Asher, because Asher would’ve been much better in the long run if you let him get over his heartbreak earlier rather than later.” I open my mouth to speak, but she raises a finger over my mouth, silencing me. “No, you did this for your own personal reasons.”

“And what might those reasons be?” I ask.

“Maybe because these Hunger Games remind you too much about your own,” she says smoothly and calmly, erasing any trace of anger from her voice. “Maybe because this whole situation reminds you of what you had to go through in the arena. Of losing the love of your life before you could really have a life with him.” A shiver runs down my spine as the old memories resurface, memories I never wanted to think about again. Quinn notices and places her hands over mine in a comforting gesture. “Look, I’m sorry about being a dick, but, believe it or not, I care for your wellbeing. I don’t want you to get hurt from these Hunger Games.”

“Thanks,” I sniffle, rubbing my eyes before any tears can fall. “But can we talk about something else? I don’t really want to be thinking about my Hunger Games right now.”

“Yeah, definitely,” she promises. “Just know that if ever need someone to talk to, you can always come to me.” I smile, a warm sensation growing in my chest. She lightly laughs, pulling me into a sideways hug. “Anyways, I believe you asked me about Cynthia earlier. She’s been doing exceptional in the arena so far with only minor injuries from a tussle with Crystal. But after she managed to get the last kill yesterday, the Capitol seems to be increasingly more interested in her.”

“Oh, I didn’t know it was Cynthia who killed the girl from Eight,” I say. “Do you think Lorelei knows yet? Or was she out drinking late last night?”

“Even if she was out late, she probably knows by now,” she says. “But Lorelei knew the girl wasn’t going to last long. She was only talented at using needles; she didn’t bother learning how to use another weapon until the last few hours of training.”

“She was going to rely wholeheartedly on her allies to survive,” I summarize. “She wasn’t even considering the possibilities of separating from them.”

“Yeah, it’s actually kind of sad,” she sympathizes. “She was so desperate for allies, she even temporarily allied with Omega before her demise.”

“Wait, the little twelve-year-old from District Nine?” I ask for clarification. Emery nods. “Didn’t Cynthia just ally with her this morning?”

“Sort of,” she says. “Omega is a traumatized tribute, vulnerable due to her fear of never seeing her brother again in the arena,” she clarifies. “Cynthia didn’t befriend her in hopes of gaining anything out of the alliance. She allied with her to use her, whether it be to test which berries are edible or to be used a decoy when attacking another tribute.” She looks down at her tablet situated on the edge of the coffee table in front of us. “As soon as she becomes a handicap to Cynthia’s survival, she’ll be killed off.”

“That’s a little brutal, don’t you think?” I ask.

“You and I both know that’s just another aspect of the Hunger Games.” She grabs her tablet, unlocking it to look at Cynthia’s tribute statistics. “Besides, it already slightly increased her odds of winning. As long as she keeps entertaining the Capitol audience, there’s no reason to doubt her chance of becoming victorious.” She sets the electronic down on her lap, turning to look at me. “But it’s only the beginning; it’s too hard to tell who has the greatest shot at victory, despite the odds.”

Britney Munroe - District Six
Most of the tributes from District Six don’t stand a chance in the Hunger Games, since our district industry provides minimal assistance with the brutality of the arena. Unlike most of the other districts, we aren’t trained with weaponry and we don’t learn any survival techniques. Instead, we study the mechanisms of hovercrafts, we learn about the most environmental-friendly fuel, and we have countless general assemblies about drug prevention, as drug usage seems to be a widespread problem throughout the district. In fact, the only reason I survived a single day in this arena is from my knowledge of what I learned outside of the district, both beyond the fences and in the Capitol.

When I first learned I could squeeze between a tear in the fences surrounding District Six, more opportunities became available to me. I learned how to climb trees, hunt for animals, and use nature to my advantage. I learned how to follow hidden animal tracks to the source, and I learned how to use a bow. After nearly a year of perfecting my skills, I was able to earn enough money from trading to focus solely on hunting, while my father continued to work at the factory. Because I had to sneak a bow and a sheath of arrows to the fence every day, I learned how to stealthily avoid Peacekeepers and any unwanted attention. Essentially, I learned how to become invisible, to take without being seen, to be seen without being noticed.

I relax against the trunk of an oak tree, sitting on one of the highest stable branches with my thighs squeezed together so I don’t mistakenly fall. My large backpack rests on a branch above my head, pinned closely to the trunk, while I twirl a knife in my right hand, a knife that I managed to steal from Avan (10) earlier this morning. Below me, I watch as the former butcher—at least, I assume he was a butcher back in District Ten—prepares to go hunting, leaving his backpack unguarded behind some fallen branches. A smile crawls across my face as I watch him walk into the forest with only an axe in his hand. Apparently, he was too oblivious to realize that his knife was stolen to take the appropriate precaution to make sure it doesn’t happen again. But his ignorance will end up being my greatest asset in the arena.

Mindfully, I descend the oak tree, cautiously avoiding making any loud noises to catch Avan’s (10) attention, as he may not be too far into the forest yet. When I’m only a few feet above the ground, I jump off of the branch, landing inaudibly in a crouch on the soft grass. I take a quick moment to listen to my surroundings, breathing silently as I focus on any possible warnings that another tribute may be around. Satisfied by the lack of noise, I lower my defenses, straightening my stance and moving towards the hidden backpack. The moment I take my eyes off of the ground, I realize my mistake. Nobody can be that oblivious nor stupid; not even a butcher from District Ten.

I feel something clamp around my leg when I’m a step away from the backpack, and before I realize what’s happening, I’m hanging upside-down by my right leg with my knife discarded in the grass. A surprised yelp manages to escape my throat, but I quickly cover my mouth, hoping that Avan (10) didn’t hear my shriek. However, the odds don’t seem to be in my favor, as I can hear someone running through bushes and shrubs towards my location. I look below me, realizing that I’m dangerously close to a sharp slope; even if I did maintain my grasp on the knife, I’d possibly end up falling down the slope to my death if I cut the snare. Nonetheless, if I remain a hanging target, I’ll be dead either way.

Using all the strength I can muster, I bend my body in half, using my nimble fingers to try to untie the rope. During training, I remember learning how to create a snare to trap tributes, so if I can determine the weak point in the knot, I should be able to untie myself. Hope arises in my chest when I can feel the rope becoming looser around my ankle, but it is quickly diminished when I hear a soft chuckle. I tilt my head backwards, staring at the massive boy in front of me.

“I have to admit, I didn’t know you were still alive.” Avan (10) smirks, but his eyes turn icy when he notices the stolen knife on the ground. “Oh, so it was you that stole my knife.” He picks it up, examining it between his two fingers. “You didn’t even use it! That just sucks!” He laughs, tossing the knife aside. “You went through all that effort to steal a knife that you never got to use.”

As he takes a few strides towards me, I realize that my chances of escaping are dramatically diminishing. “Please, don't do this!” I scream, struggling helplessly against the snare. “Please!”

“Sorry, sweetie,” he says, smiling smugly. “I really don’t give a shit about who I kill, so long as it gets me out of here alive.” He wipes a tear away from my eye, laughing mercilessly. “Save all those tears for your family. They’re going to need it.”

At the mention of my family, I look at the emerald ring around my right ring finger, the same ring that belonged to my mother before she died in a gas explosion. All of my siblings died in that same explosion, leaving my father and I all alone and devastated. While my father turned towards drinking, I turned towards working, earning as much as I could to keep us off of the streets. I became stronger and healthier, becoming a shining hope for my father. If I die now, it’ll destroy him. No, I can’t die, especially not here in the arena. I can’t die for the sake of my father who lost everyone, my mother who only wanted the best for her children, and my siblings who died too young. I need to survive.

When Avan (10) swings his axe forcefully, I duck my head into my stomach, practically bending my body in half. I can feel the surge of wind from his swing against my hair, sending a shiver down my spine for how close I was to being killed, as I reach for the loose knot of the snare. His loud vulgarities are muffled from the pounding of my blood in my ears, but I don’t need to listen to his words to know that I undoubtedly enraged him. Before he’s able to swing again, I’m able to free myself from the trap, landing directly at his feet on my back.

He smirks as he brings the axe down on me, but I agilely avoid the attack, with the weapon lodging deeply into the ground between my opened legs. As he pulls it out of the ground with a grunt of dissatisfaction, I crawl swiftly between his legs, seeing no other escape routes with the slope behind me. I notice the knife laying only a few feet away to the side, almost close enough for me to reach. If I had a weapon, I might be able to fight back, even if he is bigger and stronger than me. But my attempt to lunge towards it remains futile and disappointing. Before I’m even able to get to my feet and sprint towards the weapon, he grabs my ankle, flipping me onto my back against the grass.

“Get the f*** away from me!” I scream, kicking him firmly in the stomach. He howls in pain upon impact, stumbling back a few steps until the ground under his foot disappears and he’s lingering over the edge of the sudden slope. He barely lets out another scream, attempting to reach out for a tree to maintain his balance, before he falls down the slope and into the body of water below.

I take a moment to calm down, regaining my breath from the unwanted excitement, and letting worrisome tears flow down my cheeks. Avan’s (10) screams disturbs the silence surrounding me, causing my blood to go frigid and my stomach to become queasy. But I force myself to crawl towards the edge of the slope; I force myself to see what I am capable of doing. My fingers tremble as I approach the edge, and the nauseous feeling in my chest becomes increasingly more distinguished. When I reach the edge, I’m not prepared for the sight below, the sight of torn limbs and bloody waters and crocodile mutts tackling one another for the fresh meat. I throw up all over the ground, with the distant sound of a cannon going off in the distance.

Araise Hasting - District Ten
The sound of a cannon echoing throughout the arena causes my entire body to tense, and I tentatively turn towards Alpha (9), unsure of whether he’ll break down in tears or lash out in rage. Over twelve hours have passed since he has last seen his sister, leaving serious mental damages to develop within the worried brother. Early in the morning, I noticed his eyes have become severely red and swollen, to the point where he flinches when he looks towards the sunlight. His movements have become frantic and feverish, and I constantly catch him jumping at the slightest of sounds in my peripheral vision. When he doesn’t think I can hear him, he has a tendency to whisper himself assurances about Omega’s (9) wellbeing. Essentially, he’s losing his mind without his sister; I can’t even imagine how Omega (9) might be reacting to their separation.

- - -

''After the Capitol anthem, I expected Alpha (9) to be relieved that his sister’s face wasn’t among the fallen, but instead, his anxiety and restlessness increased as he realized that his sister must now face the cold night alone. He started muttering to himself all the possibilities of what could happen—of what he assumed would happen—to his sister. All of my efforts to calm his nerves were ineffective, as he refused to acknowledge reason. Nonetheless, his fatigue eventually overcame him, and within an hour of the anthem, he was sleeping besides me, using his forearm as his pillow.''

- - -

“Alpha, are you okay?” I ask softly, moving vigilantly towards the distraught boy as if he were a wild animal. He continues to stare at the ground, lost in thought, with tears dwelling in his eyes. When I’m close enough, I rest a comforting hand on his bicep, gently squeezing it. “Hey, Omega’s a smart and agile girl. There’s no way another tribute could catch her.”

“But even the smartest and the agilest sometimes slip up,” he says gloomily. He tilts his head up towards me, allowing me to see the tears loosely flowing down cheeks. “What happens if that one was her?”

- - - ''I was woken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a boy whimpering and a persistent kicking against my shins. Besides me, Alpha (9) restlessly struggled against the invisible constraints of a nightmare, brutally tossing and turning in his sleep. “Alpha, wake up,” I whispered, lightly shaking him. He continued to tremble in his sleep, not comprehending my words. “Alpha, wake up!” I repeated louder, shaking him more aggressively. “Wake up!”''

''“Get the hell away from my sister!” he screamed, head turned towards me but his eyes remained closed. I tried to cover his mouth to prevent him from yelling, but he swatted it away. “Don’t touch me!” He swung his fists blindly towards my face, completely unaware of reality. His right fist firmly made contact with my cheek, causing a metallic taste to rush into my mouth.''

- - -

“And what if it’s not?” I question, wiping away his tears with my thumb. “What if you’re just putting more stress on yourself, hindering your ability to find your sister.” He closes his eyes, leaning into my hand on his cheek. “Cannons are going to continue going off throughout the day. You need to stop assuming it’s always Omega, for her sake and for the sake of your sanity.”

- - -

''“Alpha, it’s me,” I whimpered, grabbing each of his wrists with my hands to prevent him from lashing out again. He struggled against my hold, but gradually decreased his resistance as I continued to speak. “Here, just calm down. Take a few deep breathes. You’re doing good.”''

''“Araise?” he asked, blinking away the drowsiness from his eyes. “Araise,” he repeated, cowering his head into my lap. I could feel his tears soak into my pants, but I didn’t dare make a comment, afraid of another bad reaction. Instead, I brushed his sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes, allowing my fingers to soothe him out of his nightmare. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse from tears. “Please don’t leave me,” he begged. “I’m so sorry.”''

- - -

Alpha (9) remained silent, undoubtedly lost in a train of depressing thoughts. “Hey, look at me,” I demanded, moving his face upwards with my hands until his eyes were locked on mine. “We’re going to find your sister, you got that?”

“Yeah, we’re going to find her,” he repeats, an optimistic smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Araise,” he says, surprising me by pulling me into a fiercely protective hug. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“I would’ve been dead without you,” I admit, returning his hug with the same ferocity. He lowers his head into the crook of my neck, and I rub calming circles into his back. “So I’ll do everything in my power to help you find your sister. You have my word.”

Tux Bowden - District One
With tall grass surrounding the cornucopia, there’s no difficulty finding tracks of fleeing tributes, as any piece of disturbed grass could guide you directly to a tribute. That being said, it should—or, rather, would—be easy hunting for my competitors, had my mind been focused solely on hunting. But instead, I’m focused on finding Jayda (3), more specifically the trail she left behind for me to follow. “I’ll leave a path of stones to where we should meet to discuss more about our arrangement,” she said before she swung an axe into my hip upon my request. However, after a few hours of searching, I haven’t been able to find a single rock that seems out of place. Is Jayda (3) really capable of deceiving me?

I shake my head, refusing to believe that I could possibly be deceived. I’m the deceiver, not the deceived; I’m the player, not the played. Jayda (3) would best be described as a cunning and calculating girl, anything besides being foolish nor ignorant; even she must admit that joining a truce with all the major threats in the arena ensures the best chances for survival. And if she truly dared to betray my trust and turn her back away from this truce, she must realize that I’ll be rallying the entire Career alliance against her. I would do everything in my power to destroy her, as I am not a fan of childish games.

Wait a moment, I think, abruptly stopping in the middle of a stride. Daniel (2) bumps into me, as he has been following uncomfortably close behind me. ''Jayda is cunning and calculating. She wouldn’t just leave a path of rocks behind her; she would make them look as indistinct and unimportant as possible.'' I scan the tall grass more closely, scrutinizing the ground for the smallest of pebbles.

“What?” Daniel (2) asks, lifting his spear into a defensive position. “Did you see something?”

“No, I didn’t see anything,” I mutter, although my eyes focus on a small rock peeking slightly out of the dirt. Without having to take a single step closer, I know it’s the first rock of Jayda’s (3) trail. “But I was thinking that maybe we should separate for a while. The more ground we cover, the more likely we’ll find a tribute; and we’ll cover the most ground if we travel independently.” I don’t wait for his response before I start walking away, I just tap him lightly on the shoulder with a wide grin. “Scream if you need anything.”

- - -

After our initial department, I aimlessly wander in a wide circle around the first rock, carefully observing my distance from Daniel (2) to ensure that he isn’t following me. Although he seems oblivious of my knowledge of it, I know that the other boy doubts my ability as leader of the Careers, which became apparent after he talked negatively of his district partner. District Two is known to provide the most talented and loyal tributes in the Hunger Games, so it would be incredibly unusual for Daniel (2) to bad-mouth his district partner. Unless, of course, he was trying to mislead me into believing he was on my side while he really sides with Jacqui (2). But I refuse to be fooled, especially by the tributes from Two who have more muscles than brain cells.

When I am confident he isn’t following me, I continue to follow the trail of rocks. Each rock is carefully placed on the ground a few meters apart, with the visibility of the rocks varying greatly. While some rest nicely above the ground, others are buried so you can only see the tip of the rock. As I become closer to the target location, the rocks become increasingly harder to spot—one of them is completely covered in dirt so it only looks like a small bump in the ground. But I’m able to effectively scrutinize the surroundings, allowing me to reach the last rock at the edge of the tall grass within twenty minutes.

When I pull the tall grass aside, I’m surprised to see Jayda (3) sitting along the shore in unobstructed view, vulnerable to attacks from other tributes. For such an intelligent girl, I would’ve expected her to be more concerned about other tributes finding her and to be hidden somewhere in the grass or the sand. But instead, she sits in the sand along the shore, her bare feet touching the water as she stares mindlessly at the waves in the distance. Although she’s in a relaxed stance, her left hand firmly grips the handle of her axe, prepared to strike when needed.

“I would’ve expected you to be harder to find,” I say, unintentionally startling her. She quickly swings around, instinctively raising her axe and moving to her feet, but immediately relaxes when she recognizes my face.

“Are you saying that you followed the rocks easily?” She raises an eyebrow, a smile spreading across her face as she holds back a laugh.

“Ah, fine, I admit that it was hard to follow the rocks,” I concede, raising my hands in fake surrender. “But I was talking more about how you’re sitting out in the sand completely out in the open. Aren’t you afraid another tribute might pass by?”

“The closest tribute from here is Lindell, and she poses no threat to me in her current condition,” she says, shrugging. “Besides, my allies need to find me eventually; being out in the open will just make it easier.” There’s a brief pause while she sits down, gesturing for me to do the same. “Anyways, can we just get down to business with this truce thing?”

“Yeah, definitely,” I nod, gently sitting down in the sand besides her. “Actually, the faster we get this done, the better.”

Darsaya Iris - District Zero
I’m afraid to leave the District Zero suite, knowing that as soon as I do, the media will bombard me with questions about Crystal (0). Do you think she’ll survive? they’ll ask, scribbling notes as I fumble to compose an adequate answer. ''How did you train her? Is it weird that you’re mentoring a celebrity? Is it easier?'' Question after question, as persistent as a pest, until they suck all the words and energy out of me, leaving me in a mentally comatose state. But one series of questions is never enough for them. Each day—no, each hour—they continue to search restlessly for me, eager to ask another series of questions. But their source of questions will eventually run dry, even if it’s at the expense of Crystal’s (0) life.

Although I don’t want to leave the dining room, I force myself to stand up from the long table and move towards the living room, knowing that the television will be broadcasting the Hunger Games. I sit on the couch in the middle of the room, tucking my feet carefully under my butt, as I continue to nurture the same cup of coffee I’ve been drinking for the last two hours. My tablet rests on the coffee table in front of the couch, the screen constantly lighting up from multiple notifications from potential interviewers. But I ignore the tablet, staring at the television instead as the cameras shift to Crystal (0).

I must admit that I’m surprised with Crystal’s (0) exceptional knowledge on survival, as I would have never expected a privileged celebrity to even consider learning about survival skills. But Crystal (0) has proven to be full of surprises. She chose to ally with a group of younger, weaker tributes—against my recommendation—to attempt to protect them from the more dangerous tributes. During the bloodbath, she stealthily avoided confronting any tributes while obtaining a bow and a backpack from the mouth of the cornucopia. Additionally, when she did encounter another tribute, she’s shown to be capable of fighting for her life, with both fists and words. For someone with such a devastating past, she’s fighting as if she has someone or something to fight for.

While Crystal (0) gathers edible plants and berries in the arena, I set my lukewarm coffee down on the coffee table, exchanging it for my tablet. The tablet unlocks when I press my thumb against the home button, only being able to unlock from my fingerprint or a tedious passcode I never bother to remember. As I flip through the tabs, checking Crystal’s (0) vital signs and any potential threats, I hear the door to the suite open behind me. But I don’t bother glancing to check who it is, as only two other people have a key for this room: Neptune and Cadence, the two other mentors from Zero. It’s not until I feel the couch cushion sink underneath me as someone sits besides me that I acknowledge their presence.

“How long have you been out of bed?” Neptune asks quietly, sympathy heavy in his eyes. He hates when I watch the Hunger Games without him or Cadence around, knowing that my reaction in the past few years to my student-tribute dying has been catastrophic and heartbreaking. He glances from my expression to the lukewarm coffee on the table, a knowing expression crossing his face. “You could’ve called Cadence or I; we would’ve gladly come up.”

“You’re right, but I’m not doing it for anyone else,” I comment, staring directly into his eyes. I push my emotions away, creating a shield of dispassion to detach myself from reality. “I survived the Hunger Games four years ago; I’m old enough to watch them without having to be babysat.” I turn back towards the screen. “I’m no longer in the arena; nobody needs to be concerned for my safety.”

“You may have gotten out of the arena, but the games never truly end,” Neptune whispers, squeezing my shoulder once before getting up. As he’s leaving the room, I listen to him shout, “Remember what I said: You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

Baron Beckett - District Eight
When I hear the grass ruffle behind me, I stand up and reach for my spiked club, preparing to mutilate whichever foolish tribute dares to cross my path. I feel the excitement rise in my chest, anticipating my first kill of the Hunger Games, and I can taste the blood of my victim on my lips. However, its not a tribute approaching me; its a rabbit, hopping innocently out from the prairie, tilting its head upward to sniff the air. The rabbit continues to hop in sporadic intervals until it stops beside my foot, harmlessly staring at me with dark eyes. I take a moment to stare at its features: soft fur with brown and white splotches; a small nose that twitches as it takes in my scent; a handful of whiskers on either side of its nose, which tickles my legs; and two long ears with a pink interior that stick upwards.

“Hi, little bunny,” I say playfully, reaching down to pet the rabbit’s ears. It seems to appreciate my touch, leaning into the side of my legs to encourage more petting. “You know, you remind me of someone—or rather, something.”

- - -

(insert flashback)

- - -

“You know, it’s a shame,” I mutter to the rabbit, leisurely caressing its back. “In this world, the weak and defenseless always seem to suffer the most.” My hand moves towards the rabbit’s head, lingering slightly above its neck. “And, unfortunately, you’re one of the most defenseless animals in this arena.”

Quickly, I grab the rabbit by its neck, dangling it in the air so that it’s at my eye level. While it frantically squirms in my grasp, I tighten my hold on it, exerting my dominance over it. “You know what the best part of the kill is?” I ask the terrified animal, slowly tightening my grasp on its neck. “It’s watching the fear flash across their eyes as they realize they no longer have control over the situation.”

I squeeze the rabbit as tight as I can, my knuckles turning white from the strength; I’m fascinated by the sight of its eyes popping out of their sockets and the feeling of its blood drizzling down my hand. “Killing is an art,” I whisper to its corpse, tossing it aside. “And I happen to be a great artist.”

Lindell Brocklehurst - District Seven
I lay across my sponsored sleeping bag, basking in the warmth of the midday sun as it rests directly above me. My limbs are sprawled in every which direction; although sand sticks uncomfortably to my exposed arms and legs, I have no motivation to adjust my body as I don’t want to disrupt this pleasure for even a second. I allow my eyes to close, and I fiddle with my token—a silver bracelet with engraved leaves that my family gave me—in my fingers, attempting to imagine myself with my family back in District Seven before being reaped for the Hunger Games. However, the memories of the reaping seem to be permanently imprinted in my mind, blocking all the peaceful memories of home.

- - -

''“Lindell Brocklehurst,” the escort slowly enunciated into the microphone, her words echoing throughout the district square as the audience remained eerily silent. While I could hear some people exhale from relief, I could not breathe.''

''In that moment, my entire body felt frozen in fear as the girls surrounding me took a step back, indicating to the nearby Peacekeepers that I was the selected female tribute. Although I could see the escort’s mouth chattering into the microphone, everything seemed to be muted, as if I was in somebody else’s body living their respective life. The only sound I heard through this mute veil was the thunderous sobs of my brothers Oliver and Rowan; the sobs that seemed to be a combination of overactive sinuses and heartbreaking screams, which caused all adults in the crowd to feel their heart squeeze from sympathy.''

- - -

The sound of nearly grass rustling startles me out of my memories. For a moment, I’m relieved to have escaped the remainder of the memory, as it has plagued my mind since I last saw my family before departing for the Capitol. I only hope it won’t be the last time I ever see my family; I can’t bear the thought of leaving Oliver and Ronan alone without their older sister. However, the relief is quickly replaced by terror as the grass rustles again, except it sounds louder than it was previously. I realize someone—or something—must be approaching me, and, judging from the noise, it seems to be relatively close. Hastily, I reach for my knife and struggle to get to my feet, preparing to fight whoever’s approaching with all the energy I can muster.

I expect to encounter a tribute, possibly Anthony (0) or Caesar (14) after they realized I didn’t drown in the river; I do not expect to encounter a mutation, especially since I’m so close to the cornucopia. The polyorificious—meaning multi-mouthed—fox mutation jumps out from the tall grass, its red eyes glaring menacingly at me as its reddish-orange fur casually breezes in the wind. Its sharp, foot-long claws dig into the sand while it crouches down, its compact muscles clenching as it prepares to lunge towards me. I feel my face flush from fear as the mutation snaps its two jaws in my direction, razor-edged incisors lining the inside of each mouth. Inappropriately, I wonder how long it took the Gamemakers to create such a threatening mutation; it isn’t easy to create an animal with one head and two jaws.

I don’t have time to compose a strategy before the polyorificious fox mutation dives at me, jaws violently snapping towards my face. A scream escapes my throat as the mutation pins me to the ground, digging its claw deep into my left shoulder; in the chaos, the knife is knocked out of my hand, landing just a few inches out of my reach. I feel the mutation’s hot breath as it aggressively snaps at my face, one of its incisors nicking my right cheek. Fortunately, I’m able to forcefully kick the mutation in the groin, knocking it off of me; while it is temporarily incapacitated, I manage to regain my knife and sprint towards the river, hoping the creature is unable to swim.

However, before I’m able to dive into the river, the mutation’s claws wrap around my ankle, yanking me down into the sand just a few feet from the river. Although sand blinds my eyes and fills my mouth, I continue crawling towards the river, even as the mutation’s grasp on my ankle tightens. I feel the creature’s nails pierce the tender skin around my ankle, but I grit my teeth through the pain, recklessly kicking towards the creature’s face in an attempt to free myself. However, a bloodcurdling scream escapes my throat as a sudden agonizing pain erupts throughout my right leg; petrified, I chance a look towards my foot, nearly vomiting when I notice that everything from my ankle down has been dismembered.

“Son of a bitch!” I scream, tears streaming down my cheeks as I frantically kick my left foot at the creature’s face. “Get the f*** away from me!”

When one of the mutation’s fangs clench onto my thigh, I feel tears stinging my ears; hastily, I swing my body around so that the sand is against my back, the sudden change of position causing the creature to release its hold on my thigh. The mutation snarls towards me in displeasure, lunging towards my leg once again with its snapping mouth, but I kick it powerfully in its face, my heel connecting directly with its snout. Enraged, the mutation launches itself on top of my, pinning me to the sand with its razor-like claws going straight through my shoulders. My scream is muted as the mutation sinks its teeth into my neck, nearly ripping out my Adam’s apple. Although I thrust the knife deep into its neck to the point where only the hilt is visible, the creature seems unfazed by it, digging its fangs deeper into my throat.

Suddenly, an arrow protrudes from the mutation’s forehead, the tip covered in blood and some brain matter. For a moment, the creature tenses and pauses, its fangs still tearing into my throat, before it flops to the sand beside me, lifeless. Although excruciating pain courses through my body, I turn my head to the side, staring at the silhouette of the approaching tribute in my peripheral vision. With shaky fingers, I reach for the knife still lodged in the creature’s throat; I may be fatally bleeding out, but I refuse to remain defenseless against the passing tribute. However, when the features of the tribute becomes perceivable, I allow my fingers to just linger on the hilt of the knife, as it is fairly easy to identify my ally with her black and blue hair.

“Oh f***, Lindell,” Crystal (0) whispers, hand hovering over mouth as her complexion pales. She carefully moves towards me, her eyes widening as the extent of the injuries become more visible. “I’m so sorry,” she mutters, collapsing on her knees besides me while tears rolls down her cheeks.

“It’s not your fault,” I croak, placing my hand gently against her knee. She shudders under the touch, a sob wretchedly escaping her throat. “At least you—. . . you’re here. . . now,” I say between heavy sobs and inconsistent breaths. “I don’t. . . I don’t. . . I don’t want to. . . die.” The revelation makes me quiver in fear.

“Shh, you’re going to. . . you’ll be okay,” Crystal (0) lies as she unsuccessfully attempts to stifle her sobs, her fingers tenderly stroking my hair to calm me down. Although I know she’s putting up a facade for my own sake, I find comfort in her words. “Just f-focus on the touch of my fingers on your scalp.”

“I t-t-told my f-family that I. . . that I would win,” I struggle to say the words, my mouth feeling increasingly heavier by the second. “Oliver and. . . R-R-Rowan,” I whisper, losing the battle against keeping my eyelids open. “I— I’m s-s-sorry.”

- - -

''“Hey, you don’t need to cry,” I murmured soothingly to my younger brothers; in a crouched position that allows me to be eye level with my younger brothers, I wipe away their tears carefully with my thumb. “I’m going to be gone for a few weeks, but I’ll be back before you know it.” Behind my brothers, the Peacekeeper enters the room, signaling that my time is coming to an end. “But I promise—I promise—that I’ll come home. I will not leave you guys alone.”''

''“I love you,” I whispered into each of their ears as I embraced them for the last time in my life, unbeknownst to me at the time. With a fragile kiss to their cheeks, I watched them be escorted out of the room alongside my parents by Peacekeepers. I didn’t know I would never see them again.''

Avian Dorias - District Thirteen
(insert point of view)

Important Plot Points:
 * Tension between Avian (D13M) and Asher (D6M) as a result of latter's crush on the former; Avian completely disrespects Asher's sexuality, ultimately leaving Asher heartbroken
 * Bluebell (D13F), Nicholas (D5M), and Basil (D11M) manage to find Avian and Asher following their argument
 * Bluebell goes to calm down Asher, although their conversation remains unknown to their other allies (point of view limitation)
 * Nicholas calls out Avian for being an asshole; as a result, the entire alliance seems to have tension with Avian
 * At the moment, they are still clueless as to Jayda's location

Boston Van Ackerton - District Seven
(insert point of view)

Important Plot Points:
 * Boston (D7M) becomes increasingly worried about Caspian (D3M), as the former has been vomiting throughout the entire day; when he lifts up his shirt, Boston discovers that Caspian's back is covered in bluish-blackish marks at the points of incision from the shurikens
 * Boston recognizes the markings as a symptom of poisoning due to his previous teachings about the Hunger Games
 * Note: Since Capsian is poisoned from Zapphire's shurikens, he is in desperate need of antidote.
 * Anthony (D0M) and Caesar (D14M) are spotted across the pond by Caspian; although Caspian wants to fight them, Boston refuses due to his injury. The duo stay hidden in the surrounding greenery as the brothers make camp for the night.

Lydia Waterborne - District Eleven
I mindlessly twirl the stainless steel spoon around in the ceramic bowl, pushing a stray carrot back and forth in the chicken broth. Not for the first time, I wonder where I stand with the rest of the Careers and what my purpose is for being in the alliance, which has become increasingly questionable following my embarrassing performance during the bloodbath. When I offered to go hunting in the morning with Tux (1) and Daniel (2), I was declined; when I offered to help Miiko (1) set traps instead of Zapphire (4), I was declined; and when I offered to assist Zapphire (4) make dinner, I was declined. Everyone, except for Mack (4), seems to have developed a distrust for me despite my valiant efforts to assist them in any manner.

Although I continue to be treated as an unreliable pariah, I am still somehow aware of and involved in the approaching usurpation of Tux (1) by Jacqui (2), as the latter disclosed her scheme to Mack (4) and I while the others were away performing their designated duties. Once Mack (4) learned that Zapphire (4) had already aligned with Jacqui (2), he quickly followed her lead, as he remains in debt to her for saving his life. However, there seems to be something more between the two, possibly even a budding romance. When my allegiance was questioned, I chose to similarly align with Jacqui (2), as I only earnestly trust Mack (4) at the moment; I knew as soon as the question was posed that I was going to align with whoever he chose.

My eyes shift upwards from the broth to Miiko (1), the only ally besides Tux (1) who remains completely unaware of the organized usurpation. She eats her broth in the mouth of the cornucopia, leaning against a crate with her leg propped up on a backpack and an icepack resting on her left knee. When the overthrow begins, I wonder if she’ll defend Tux (1) or she’ll follow the rest of the alliance. Although I haven’t seen the two privately talk to one another, district ties run deep in the Hunger Games; I know that I would not kill Basil (11) unless it’s absolutely necessary, even though he is an Anti-Career. Nonetheless, in her current condition, she poses a minor threat to our other allies, as she will be unable to do any major damage with her katana while on the ground.

Miiko (1) must sense that I have been looking at her for a while, as she turns towards me. “Why are you staring at me?” she asks politely, although her eyes narrow a bit in challenge.

“Oh, um. . . I was just wondering about how you knew Baron before the Hunger Games,” I lie, the words barely registering in my mind before they leave my mouth. “If I’m not mistaken,” I continue, thoughtfully considering my next words, “it seems like the two of you knew each other beforehand.”

“Yeah, we encountered each other one time before the games,” she nods. “I, uh, used to live in District Eight,” she admits, blushing as if she’s ashamed of her district of origin. “But when I was eleven, my dad died and I moved to District One to live with my aunt.” She pauses, a dark shape flickering across her eyes. “Baron killed him,” she elaborates. “So when I heard he was going to volunteer, I decided to volunteer as well in order to finally get my revenge.”

“Damn,” I mutter, at a complete loss of words. I could never imagine myself volunteering solely to seek vengeance on another person. “My reasons seem so insignificant compared to yours.”

“Why did you volunteer?” Tux (1) asks, budding into the conversation. In fact, it appears that everyone’s attention seems to be directed towards Miiko (1) and I. Were we really talking that loud? “It’s not every day that a tribute from Eleven volunteers for the games, especially when they’re only thirteen years old.”

“Family pride,” I lie to protect myself. If I tell the Careers that I was blackmailed by my parents to volunteer, their views of me will undoubtedly diminish. In fact, the only reason I was probably accepted into the alliance is due to me being a volunteer and a relative to Mack (4). “I would be the first Waterborne from an outlying district to win.”

“You know why I volunteered?” Daniel (2) chimes in, saving me from the apparent scrutiny in Tux’s (1) eyes. For the first time since he returned, I realize his complexion has paled and he looks physically weaker than normal. I wonder if he has an infected wound or something, although I don’t recall him revealing any injuries following the bloodbath. “I met this girl—”

“Oh, please tell me you didn’t volunteer for the love and affection of a girl,” Tux (1) says, a charming smile plastered on his face. Although the words appear condescending, he vocalizes them as a joke, earning smiles from Daniel (2) and Zapphire (4).

“Well. . . ,” he utters, stretching the word and jokingly trailing off. Tux (1), Daniel (2), Mack (4), and Zapphire (4) erupt into a burst of giggles; however, Daniel’s (2) laughing is cut off by a fit of aggressive coughing. Everyone silences as he struggles to maintain his normal breathing pattern, concern evident in their eyes.

When he finally stops coughing, Zapphire (4) is the first to voice her concern. “Are you feeling okay?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah—well, no,” he shrugs. “I guess I’m just not feeling the best at the moment.” I notice beads of sweating forming on his forehead, but he wipes them away with the back of his hand. “I think I’m still adjusting to this new diet. Who would’ve guessed that the Capitol food would mess with my stomach so much?”

“Well, I’m thankful that I didn’t indulge in the food as much as you did,” Jacqui (2) says rather snidely. I tilt my head to the side, perplexed by her somewhat narcissistic remark. “Liam directly told you not to excessively eat the Capitol food. I don’t know why you ignored him; he is your mentor.”

“Are you sure it’s just the food?” Mack (4) asks, eyebrows knit together. It’s the first time he’s talking since we began eating dinner. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but you look like absolute shit.”

“Why, thank you. I’m flattered,” Daniel (2) says flatly, hand resting theatrically on his chest. “I think I’m just going to lay down for a bit.” However, when he stands up, he uneasily sways on his feet for a moment before he falls back down to the ground, landing on his butt. Mack (4) moves towards Daniel (2) to assist him, but the latter shoos him away. “Eh, actually, I’m just going to stay here,” he says weakly.

“Um. . . Daniel? Do you have a bloody nose?” I ask the—undoubtedly—sick boy, staring at a small trickle of blood seeping out of his left nostril. He shakily wipes his nose with the back of his hand, his eyes transfixing on his bloody hand as he pulls it away. Suddenly, he lurches forward, vomiting a combination of broth and blood all over his feet and its surroundings.

“F***!” Tux (1) screams frantically, springing to his feet as Daniel (2) continues aggressively retching, even after there’s nothing left in his stomach to vomit, and blood quickly oozes out of his nostrils. Every few heaves, he spews blood out of his mouth, a clear indicator of the fatality of his illness. Tux (1) seems to understand the meaning of it as well, as he turns to Zapphire (4) with an enraged expression. “What the f*** did you put in the broth?” he yells at the younger girl, demanding answers. “Did you poison all of us?”

“Tux, I need help!” Mack (4) shouts, the urgency of his voice directly Tux’s (1) attention away from Zapphire (4) and towards him. “His eyes are bleeding!”

“F***!” Tux (1) mutters under his breath, moving to kneel besides Daniel (2) and Mack (4). Daniel (2) falls forward from his knees to the ground, landing in a pile of his upchuck as he begins a series of violent spasms and convulsions. “Shit, he needs medicine ASAP!”

“Zapphire, where’d you put the medicine after you used it yesterday?” I ask, urgently turning to Zapphire (4) while Tux (1) and Mack (4) try to stabilize Daniel (2). She points to a crate inside the cornucopia; quickly, I rummage through it in search for the medicine. “There’s nothing in here besides blankets and rope!” I scream, dumbfounded. “Where did you put it?”

“It’s too late, anyways,” Tux (1) comments, staring furiously towards Zapphire (4). Besides him, Daniel (2) lies paralyzed on the ground with Mack (4) feverishly shaking him. “He’s already dead.”

For some reason, the cannon sounds more gloomy than jolly in my ears.

Mack Waterborne - District Four
(insert point of view)

Important Plot Points:
 * Tux (D1M) accuses Zapphire (D4F) for poisoning the food and hiding the medicine so they all die. He further accuses Jacqui (D2F) for coordinating the "attack" against the Careers.
 * Terrified, Lydia (D11F) shoves her fingers down her throat, forcing her to vomit; Miiko (D1F) and Mack (D4M) follow her lead.
 * Zapphire argues that she didn't kill Daniel (D2M) and that someone else must have poisoned him. Tux doesn't believe her and plans to kill her. However, Mack defends her, but backs down when directly challenged by Tux.
 * The Careers come to the compromise that Jacqui and Zapphire must leave the alliance, as they can no longer be trusted.The two leave with their designated weapons and a medium backpack.

Jayda Idylwyld - District Three
(insert point of view)

Important Plot Points:
 * Jayda (D3F) reveals that she used her intelligence to modify a water hemlock derivative, allowing it to have a sudden and delayed effect on the person that consumes it. She previously traded some of it with Tux (D1M) in exchange for food.
 * Jayda provides some commentary as she watches the anthem, amused by the deaths of Avan (D10M) and Daniel (D2M). She is concerned about the death of Lindell (D7F) since she was aware the other girl was near her.

Anthony Sharpclaw - District Zero
(insert point of view)

Important Plot Points:
 * Anthony (D0M) and Caesar (D14M) discuss the discrimination and negative treatment they received in their respective home districts due to their mutated appearance and inhumane demeanor.
 * Flashback to Anthony killing his first innocent person. He remembers the feeling of the blood covering his hands and lips; he remembers the heavy emotions, from terror to disgust; and he remembers his incapability to stop killing people.
 * In their vengeful state, they formulate a plan to go hunting throughout the day.

Araise Hasting - District Ten
When I’m awakened by the morning sunlight shining brightly through my eyelids, I immediately tense as I feel an unfamiliar weight pressing against my back. A muscular arm loosely drapes around my stomach and a calloused hand firmly grasps onto my exposed waist; both of which seem to tighten as I become fully conscious of my surroundings. Alpha (9) nuzzles up against my smaller frame, his nose gently rubbing against my neck as his warm breath causes the smaller hairs at my nape to rise. When I attempt to move away, he pulls me closer to himself until my back is firmly pressed against his chest. A small gasp escapes my mouth and the coloring drains from my face when I feel something poke against my thigh; I am uncomfortable.

''To Be Continued. . . ''

Important Plot Points:

When Alpha (D9M) wakes up, he impulsively and passionately kisses Araise (D10F), which initially startles her. However, she ends up kissing him back—despite not reciprocating the same feelings—for the sake of pleasing him, as she does not want to anger or upset her ally.

At the end of the point of view, the couple embark on a journey around the volcanic region, restlessly searching for the missing Omega (D9F)

Miiko Dejong - District One
(insert point of view) Important Plot Points:
 * Tux (D1M) confronts Mack (D4M) and Lydia (D11F) about potentially rebelling against him, demanding to know their reasoning for it.

Dolores Palacio - District Six
(insert point of view)

Important Plot Points:
 * It is revealed that Britney (D6F) is spending the majority of the day hiding in the same tree, somewhat traumatized by the previous day’s events.
 * Another mentor points out that the Gamemakers have been abnormally invested in creating mutations for this year’s Hunger Games.

Alpha Quells - District Nine
(insert point of view)

Important Plot Points: ''Coming Soon. . . ''
 * The seemingly-dormant volcano explodes as Alpha (D9M) and Araise (D10F) are exploring it, forcing the two to quickly flee. However, the duo is attacked by rock-octopus mutations (a mutation disguised as a rock and have lengthy tentacles with suckers lined along the inside, allowing it to stick to whatever it grabs).
 * One of the rock-octopus mutations pulls Araise to the ground, but Alpha chops off its arm with his (sponsored) axe. As more tentacles attaching to the duo, Alpha sarcrifices himself for Araise, being dragged down to the ground, where he is eventually burned alive by the lava.

Crystal Sagittarius - District Zero
(insert point of view)

Important Plot Points:


 * Crystal (D0F) creates a memorial site for each of her fallen allies—Electra (D5F), Lindell (D7F), and Penny (D12F)—using a collection of rocks, branches, and tree bark. As she’s recollecting her memories with them, she has a flashback to the second day of training, when Lindell asked her if she would be interested in an alliance.
 * At the end of the point of view, she vows to try to win the Hunger Games for all of them, holding herself responsible for keeping their memories and their sacrifice alive.

''Coming Soon. . . ''