I had another strip of beef in the morning and knew where I was headed. While I had slept my brain had been thinking things over it seemed. It was suicidal but what else could I do? I couldn't live out here. I knew where I could find food and I knew the Careers would be out looking for blood today. By now they would have stockpiled everything, probably using the Cornucopia as a base. If I wanted to eat, I had to raid that base. If I died, I would die doing something at least.

I smeared mud on my face, on the red stripes on my clothes and added a little to darken my pack. Maybe it would make me less visible, maybe if anyone was watching me, they would think I knew what I was doing.

The woods were quiet though whether because I was scaring everything silent or because there was nothing in them I didn't know. I wondered how much food was all around me. At least I wouldn't eat something that would kill me. It was sad way to go in the arena, killed by some toxic plant. I wondered why the Capitol included them. Perhaps just to make us suffer. To scare us. There were traps out here I knew, ways for the Gamemakers to attack single tributes if things got dull. Throwing a few fireballs or causing an avalanche, dropping a tree even… it was all good fun…

Near midday I reached the Cornucopia as a cannon sounded. Someone else was down and the five Careers had left M2 behind to guard their supplies. He sported a bandage around his left leg and judging by the way that leg was outstretched, he wasn't going to be going anywhere fast. He was however utterly huge. Careers were volunteers, they trained for the arena; they took every advantage they could and entering the arena as eighteen year olds gave them a huge advantage over the tributes from other Districts who might be as young as twelve. A twelve year old could swing a sword and barely scratch an eighteen year old while an eighteen year old armed with the same weapon and with years of training behind them could sever whole limbs. I had seen it happen.

He was between me and food. I had no weapon while he could choose between swords, spears, axes, knives… He had a spear at the moment, something with reach so he could keep people away from his injured leg I guessed. I listened and heard nothing out there but birdsong.

He had an excellent view of the open space but not his back. If I came up around behind the Cornucopia, he wouldn't see me coming. If I could surprise him, I could kill him. It was the only way I could kill him. A fair fight ended in my death, my inevitable death. I didn't know how I would do it yet but at the moment, I had to just get around him.

I hoped the mud kept me camouflaged as I trekked around the woodline, keeping one eye on M2 and the other looking for other danger. I could just see myself blundering into the whole returning Career pack. That would be a way to die; cut to pieces by four huge Careers. It would make the highlights reel.

From the moment my name had been called in the Reaping, I had wondered if when it came to it, I really could kill someone. In self-defence, I thought I could do it. I took my canteen and drank a little water, feeling queasy as I contemplated killing someone, even a Career, in a sneak attack.

All too soon I found myself behind the Cornucopia and there seemed to be absolutely nothing else going on out there. Perhaps someone else was watching M2. I referred to them all that way because it stopped them being human. Learning their names when we had trained together, that would have just made things a thousand times worse. Sex and a number, that wasn't a human.

The thought came to me that I did have a weapon. I could have found a stick and tried to use it as a club but what I had was wire. I remembered a Games where one tribute had killed three others in brutal silent attacks three nights in a row. He had been bigger than me though he had seemed psychotic from the off.

Was I psychotic for concealing my pack under some ferns and coiling wire in my hands? Or was I being smart? Was I using what little I had to my advantage?

I stepped slowly though if my feet were making any sound, it was drowned out by my heart pounding in my ears. They hadn't offered training in this. Were they watching me right now? Was the whole nation watching with bated breath, waiting to see if M2 heard me and killed me with one vicious thrust? Did he know I was there and simply waiting for me to get within range? My steps became smaller and smaller the closer I came to him, his back seemingly growing larger and larger beyond all reason. He was humming, bored with sitting and watching. Perhaps he was thinking about his chances, thinking about what would happen when the others came back, wondering how long their alliance would last. Career alliances always ended explosively, the tension finally snapping and a melee usually breaking out.

They never ended like this. Never ended with some taking twenty seconds to every step and steeling themselves for what they had to do. Had to do… Kill or be killed. Death was inevitable. I crossed the loop of wire and held it. Inevitable.

Sulla gagged as my wire wrapped around his throat and I pulled hard, the wire cutting into my hands. He dropped his spear as he grasped at his throat, losing all sense as he reached for what was choking him. The pair of us hit the dirt, falling on his bad leg and a muted scream cutting through his choking. I held him, pulling, keeping it tight. Sulla was much bigger than me but as the wire cut into his neck, all his size and strength meant nothing. His elbow slammed into my ribs, once, twice, thrice. It didn't matter because the wire was too tight and every attempt to shake me free simply tightened it. Sulla hit me again, more weakly. Again. Weaker. Again. Weak. Weak…

The boom of the cannon cut through me. Sulla was still. Lifeless. Confirmed by the Capitol itself, our lords and masters. Sulla was dead. I had strangled the life from him.

The wire had cut into his throat and I had to pull it free, pry it out of his flesh. Once I got it free, I had to get it free from my hands too. I wasn't cut but there were deep marks scored into my hands. I threw the wire away. I didn't want to touch it again.

A millboy from District 9 had killed a Career. That would be something for them to discuss in detail, a five scorer killing a nine. Ellis would be at a loss. I looked up at the sky, giving them something to puzzle over. It was a nice day, blue sky with fluffy clouds. Were they real clouds? Or just part of the arena?

M2 was no longer a problem. I ran back to my pack and then ran back to the Cornucopia, suddenly burning with energy. The horn was stuffed full of treasures and I abandoned my blue pack for a larger black one that came with back support. I helped myself to a belt for a hip canteen that was full, collected a large serrated knife with a forearm sheath that would certainly be helpful and then I went for the food.

I took what was practical. A small sack of apples, a large bag of biscuits that I knew were more than simple cookies, bread rolls and more dried meat. I wanted to take more but… I had to be able to move and even drinking the hip canteen dry, what I had taken weighed too much. That was the worst part of food, it was heavy. You couldn't carry more than a few days on you before it started to break your back. What I had would keep me going for two weeks if I went to sleep hungry every night. A week if I ate to satisfaction. Even a millboy used to carrying sacks of grain and flour found it heavy.

I didn't know what to eat in the woods. I doubted that the pampered Careers knew anything either. They needed these supplies. They needed them more than anyone else. And the weapons too… All I needed was a spear. Not M2's, one of the others. All of this had to go.

I used my knife to puncture a small barrel of cooking oil and trickled it over everything. It was kind of them to have piled it all up. I opened up more of the barrels, sousing everything and throwing away any water. I dropped my pack, ran into the trees and gathered a few handfuls of wood and added it to the pile. I shouldered the pack, hearing the sound of an approaching hovercraft and found my matches.

The oil took rapidly, setting fire to the sacks of provisions and the wooden crates and for the few seconds I watched; warped the plastic bins. Amazing.

I couldn't run, too weighed down. I moved as fast as I could out of the open ground as behind me, a hovercraft retrieved M2's body. I had killed Sulla and set fire to the Careers supplies. It was the second day of the Games and I had made a mark. A significant mark. Destroying Careers supplies wasn't an original tactic, people always attempted it because it was effective and made pure logical sense. I wasn't sure though if a single tribute acting alone had achieved it before. Even if all my fire did was ruin half of it, it would still be a massive blow to the Career pack.

They had no way of knowing it had been me but they would be out for brutal revenge on all of us now.

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I didn't find my nook again that night, I found a different one. The river hid any noise I made but also hid any sound anyone else made. I seriously doubted the Careers would be hunting tonight, they would be salvaging whatever they could from the ashes and plotting revenge.

The sky that night showed M2 and then F10. District 10 was out of it now. It had been a busy couple of days. I wondered what they were thinking in the Capitol, what they were thinking back home. I had certainly made the highlights reel.

I had killed M2 from behind. I had never seen his face as he died. The Capitol would give their audience close ups of both our faces. Make sure everyone knew what I looked like when I killed someone.

Perhaps because I knew he would have killed me without hesitation, I didn't feel anything for what I had done other than a sense of enormity for having killed someone. Perhaps the mandatory viewing of the Games had desensitized me. Perhaps seeing people crushed in mill accidents had done it far better.

The cold was brutal. It radiated off the river but I felt safe here. I was burrowed deep into the sleeping bag but that didn't help. The only thing that did help was that at least I didn't feel hungry. My best chance was for the Careers to slaughter everyone else and then fall to hunger. If I rationed, maybe I could last two weeks. Maybe…

Perhaps I wouldn't even have to kill anyone. Else.