The next few days are pretty tame. I scout out the area immediately surrounding my hideout, setting traps all around. Ultimately useless, however, since they don't catch anyone. During this time, I don't see a single Tribute—aside from in the sky during the recanting of each day's deaths, of course—and, after I figure I've pushed the limits of the Gamemakers' tolerance of my passivism far enough, I set out to explore upstream.

I pass a few caves with no signs of life aside from a few birds and plants dotting the landscape. I reach the dam without any trouble, and take the time to survey it. It's big, probably about three hundred feet high, with water pouring out of a series of huge pipes near the base into the river bed. Its face is smooth concrete, free of anything a climber could latch onto to pull themselves up.

I could probably climb along the sides of the cliffs on either end, but…it doesn't seem worthwhile at the moment. Instead, I turn and enter one of the caves to my right. It inclines gradually for a short while after I'm stuck in the pitch black. I pull out of one of my bags' pockets a small flashlight and turn it on, allowing its dim light to illuminate the cave walls. They're rounded, clearly tunneled out, and dry. The latter aspect is good, because it'll be hard enough picking up any sounds of people or animals with the constant sound of running water in the background.

I spend the next few hours traversing tunnel after tunnel, making a rough map on a notepad I'd pulled from my supplies. It's not perfect, since I don't really have a way of marking three dimensions, but I make do. I discover a number of small caverns, some with walls covered in lines of minerals and crystals that reflect the light from my flashlight quite beautifully.

It's when I enter one of these caverns that I come upon the first signs of life since leaving the Cornucopia. This is filled with pathways winding around stalagmites jutting from the ground and the sound of water dripping from the ceiling. Footsteps—two sets of them—seem to be echoing from one of the tunnels feeding into the massive room. From the pace, I can tell that they're running.

Is one chasing the other?

No. They're both being chased.

I see the two boys emerge from one tunnel, gasping for breath, weaving their way in my direction around the stone obstacles in their path. The one in front is carrying an old-fashioned lantern, and with its dim, wavering light, I can see exactly what they're running from.

It's a dragon.

Well, not an actual dragon, obviously—some sort of muttation—but it's a giant, scaly lizard, easily ten feet tall and thirty feet long. It's covered in shiny scales, with four muscular legs ending in a number of vicious-looking talons. Its neck is long, snake-like, ending with a head full of far too many sharp teeth. Then it roars, and I jump, because it's suddenly charging through stalagmites, shattering them like twigs.

One of the boys is lagging behind the other—and then he's not. The dragon snaps him up with a might chomp of his jaws. Blood sprays everywhere, and the mangled corpse is thrown against the wall. A muffled cannon blast echoes off the walls as the body falls flailing to the ground.

I recognize the remaining boy as the one from Seven. The dragon's killing of his partner is good luck for him because he doesn't stop running when the dragon pauses for the kill—but it's bad for me, because he's running in my direction. And soon, the dragon will be following him.

I could turn and run, but I couldn't outrun the dragon. So I don't try. Instead, I climb up the side of the wall until I'm almost at the ceiling, clinging to the side of a ledge. My fellow tribute runs past me, and the dragon is only a few yards behind him. I have to time it perfectly.

I jump onto the dragon's back.

It's so intent on its prey that the dragon doesn't notice me clinging to its back, at first. I have plenty of time to draw my sword and plunge it right in between the ridges along its back, right into the spinal cord. The dragon gives off one choked cry before it slams to the ground.

I manage to hold on, mostly by clinging to my katana, wedged as it is between the massive vertebrae. The head twitches a few times and, finally, goes still.

I still wait a little bit before pulling my sword from the dead dragon, and inch around until I'm clear—just in case it has one last bite in it. The last Tribute's nowhere to be found, so I head back into the cavern and inspect the dead Tribute. I think he's the from Five, but his body's so mangled I can't be sure. Regardless, I go through the backpack lying next to his corpse. A few bandages, some vacuum-sealed beef, and a gallon of kerosene.

Hmm. That could be useful.

I take the tunnel that the boys had fled from. I pass two places where large amounts of blood are splattered—the bodies were already collected, somehow—and come to the biggest cavern I've seen yet. Easily bigger than a football field and more than fifty feet high, It's illuminated by a hole in the ceiling, light shining through onto a pool of water. I can tell by the smell of animal musk and droppings that this must have been the dragon's den.

I guess it's lucky for me that there was only the one dragon.

I take a circuit of the den and find, to my surprise, a nest—with a single, giant egg. I guess it was a nesting dragon, then. Sure, why not? The nest is the size of a king-sized bed, built out of driftwood and moss and dirt.

The wood makes for a nice fire, and the egg is surprisingly tasty.

I'm about to exit one of the tunnels into the canyon when I find another set of Tributes. Or, rather, they find me.

Their ambush is pretty impressive, for a pair of amateurs. The boy appears seemingly out of nowhere, looks startled, and runs away. I give chase, which is when his partner pulls a rope from the alcove she's hidden in.

A spear trap springs, and if I were a bigger target, it would have seriously wounded me. Instead, I somersault underneath, the sharpened wooden stakes tearing through my pants and slicing into my left leg.

I don't have time to worry about that, because the male Tribute is already lunging with another spear, trying to put me down before I can go on the offensive. It doesn't work—lifetimes spent surviving ambushes have trained me pretty well. My sword is out, knocking the spear to the side, swiping out at him and just barely missing his arm.

I stand, ignoring the burning pain in my leg, and put the wall to my back. I assess my enemies; the boy is holding the spear as if he knows how to use it, and the girl is wielding a pair of knives with a frightened yet determined look on her face.

My best bet is to charge to my right, away from the girl and into range of the boy, and hope she hesitates long enough so I can dispatch him swiftly without getting a knife in my back.

I can feel the blood running down my leg. Don't want to take too long here; that'll need a bandage.

Then, the girl gasps and falls forward, an arrow in her back. In the weak light coming from the tunnel entrance, I can see Gladiola reaching for another arrow, Anthony and Helena at her back.

SHIT.

I don't hesitate. I run for the tunnel, feeling the wind brush my face as an arrow whistles by, then I'm outside and running downstream. Hopefully, the boy with the spear can hold them long enough that I can get away. But I know I won't get far, not with the wound in my leg.

Damn it.

A few hundred yards and I hear the cannon blast. I push myself to run faster, although the cut on my left leg is throbbing. I disappear around a cliff face and see another cave, my best opportunity to vanish and recover.

Then the knife slices into my side.

It's enough to knock me off my feet, although the knife doesn't penetrate deep. I roll over onto my other side, reaching for my katana, but Helena is already on me. She's a few years older and about thirty pounds heavier, all muscle, and has no trouble pinning my right arm to the ground with my sword. My left grabs her right and we wrestle over the knife in her hand, but she knees me in my wounded side and she manages to slip free.

Her knife is at my throat. Her eyes shine in triumph. I can feel the blade starting to press into my neck.

I try to push her away, but I can't get any leverage.

She bares her teeth in a vicious grin. I watch in slow motion as the muscles of her arm clench as she prepares to drag the knife across my throat, ending my life. A noise distracts her, and she looks up, annoyed at the disruption of her kill.

Just in time for an ax to drive itself into her chest.

She flies off me, blood spraying everywhere. Her blood stings my eyes as I struggle to raise my sword in a desperate defense from my savior and possible killer. I turn over, the pain in my side making my vision waver. I can't rise higher than my knees. I'm gasping for breath, my heart struggling to pump adrenaline through a body increasingly short of blood.

It's the boy from Seven. The one I saved in the cave.

Is my reward for saving his life going to be his ending mine?

I keep my katana up, but he runs instead to Helena. He yanks the ax from her body. A cannon blast sounds as he turns to me. "Come on, the other Careers will think that the blast is from her killing you. We don't have long before they come after her."

His words take a moment to penetrate my sluggish mind. I try to stand but I'm too dizzy. Not good. "I can't stand. Blood loss."

He thinks for a moment, then nods his head. "Give me your bags. I'll carry you." I hesitate, and he snaps at me, "We don't have time for this, let's go!"

I drop my bags and he picks them up. After he's strapped them to his back and his ax to his side—still dripping with Helena's blood—he lifts me in a princess carry and runs to the cave. I struggle to stay awake, but as we disappear into the dark of the cave, my eyes close and I pass out.