Blood, Sweat and Tears.

But we can conquer the world, leave footprints on earth, we'll put in blood, sweat and tears.

Twill Mousseline, District Eight Female.

My hand instantly drops the knife, droplets of blood splashing down on the earthy soil. Twelve's body lies there, a red smile across his throat. I back up off his body, throwing myself to the ground beside him, fear and guilt swallowing me quickly. His hands are tied, bound by knots that I discovered I could do during training. He was so peacefully asleep and I caught him off-guard. I don't know whether to feel proud of myself for an act so terrible or disgusted that he didn't even get the chance to run or fight or survive.

I scramble backwards on the dirt away from him, waiting for the infamous metal claws to scoop him up.

But they don't come. Instead, the anthem blares, just like it did announcing everyone else that has died. It's almost instant; blood lolling down Twelve's neck and throat as his face jumps into the darkened sky.

Did he kill Nate? Probably not. It could have been anyone and besides the Careers, the boys from Twelve and Nine are the only physical threats.

I didn't even kill for Nate - I killed because that's what I have to do in order to go home. I shouldn't feel guilty about being selfish. Should I?

Deep, heavy breaths pass through my teeth as I lift myself off the ground, my red suit speckled with dirt. I grab the knife that lies abandoned on the ground, scoop up Twelve's knife too, collect my ropes from around his now cold wrists and swing both his backpack and mine onto one shoulder. It takes a while, but I eventually manage to leave the scene of my first kill.

I walk briskly through the forest, keeping the wall to my right. Anything could be behind it, which is obviously bad, but having one side blocked means that I only have to worry about in front of me, behind and then my left. It will narrow down on who can try and sneak up on me. Maybe Twelve had that idea, too. That would explain him camping out next to the wall. It weren't the greatest of ideas - but I can see his logic. I try to fight away the sickness and tears that begin to pepper my eyes. I actually willingly took someone's life and, right now, I feel both terrible and slightly relieved.

That isn't human.

A human should feel guilty and allow it to swallow him. But I'm not a human; I'm a tribute.

The sound of people whispering catches my ears and I freeze, body tense and heart thudding, both knives gripped in either hand. I hear some rustling and quickly push myself backwards behind a thick tree, hoping the trunk and scattered branches protects and hides me. The first blurred image to come into view is the boy from Seven, and instantly, I let my breath escape through my nose. It could have been worse - it could have been the Careers.

"And where do you think you're going?" I hear a female voice speak up.

A ghost of a smile forms on Seven's face as he turns around, a flash of strawberry blonde hair peering through the trees. His district partner, Evy, if I remember.

"I thought we'd keep moving. That was the idea, wasn't it? To keep moving without camping."

Evy clenches her jaw as the little girl from Three, wide eyed and small bodied, appears by her side. "I thought we were keeping around the area, though, to avoid Careers."

"They'll be at the Cornucopia still, bathing in the blood of the dead most likely."

"Or they could be hunting."

"That too," Seven smirks. "We'll never know, but for now, I want to keep moving. The further away from the red lights, the better."

Evy soon gives in as her district partner keeps walking, looking back to check on his two allies before disappearing through the trees. The last one, the girl from Three, stops and looks around. For a moment, she looks in my direction, and it's almost like she can actually notice me though I'm hiding. I don't know what she sees, since she sniffs from the obvious tears she's spilled and then follows both her allies. The sight of her tears and sad face lingers, though. Was she crying because they lost their ally, the boy from Six, whose clearly abandoned them? Or was she crying from the death of her district partner? I don't know; but whatever it is, it brings me to tears that silently fall. I haven't been able to cry over Nate yet. Now, I do. The boy who I rejected. For the boy who was kind to me. For the boy who, above all else, never changed. Twelve's face, eyes looking at mine as I slit his throat, also joins in. I cry for him too.

After a while, I continue to move, sliding a knife into my boot for back-up.

I want to scream - to cry and shout and everything. But I can't. I can't control my emotions, and if I allow them to control me even for a little bit, I might as well class myself as dead. Because now I've killed, there's no going back.

I'm no longer a human; I'm a tribute.

Marlin Roth, District Four Male.

Azolla's hand slips easily into mine as we all stand. Ajax brought back some food, a large crow he managed to kill, before Azolla easily lit a fire and cooked it for us. The whole time it happened, Cyra sat there, smug smile on, looking at Ajax and constantly making chicken movements. I don't think anyone understood - but it didn't stop Ajax from constantly growling under his breath and looking away. Since getting into the arena, some of us have changed - Cyra's attitude has increased dramatically and now, after proving to get a kill, she believes she's almighty and powerful. Ajax has toned down his attitude in response and chooses to either ignore Cyra completely or to respond with witty one-liners.

Besides that, the rest of us are the same. Lamont continues to sit on the side and watch without talking, Honor does pretty much the same, whilst Azolla hasn't left my side.

For some reason, I feel like she's scared. Scared of what? I don't know. I get that feeling and that's instantly followed by a passionate feeling of wanting to protect her. It's hard to explain, even harder to understand, but I've always been one to protect and be loyal. When my Dad died in the Games, my mother was distraught, and I became the man of the house. I made sure that she didn't wallow in missing him.

And when I win, well, I'll be able to provide more for her then she could ever imagine. I can give her a life she deserves.

"Lets go hunting," Cyra grins dark. "I want to kill some more."

"If you can manage it." Ajax says nearby in a hushed whisper.

"Excuse me?" Cyra responds.

Ajax sighs and looks up. "I said, if you can manage it. A little boy compared to a larger tribute, like him from Nine, is a huge difference. You might be able to manage it."

"I can more than manage it," Cyra smirks, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I could kill you right now if you want me too."

"Yeah? Then why don't you do it."

"Every alliance needs their token idiot, Ajax."

"That's why we're keeping you around, Cyra."

Tension is thick in the air, everyone including Lamont, looking back and forth between the two Careers from Two, waiting to see if either will be good on their word. You can visibly see Ajax's grip on his spear get harder, whilst Cyra casually rolls her scythe in her hand. Ajax is serious; Cyra isn't. In the end, Cyra laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she walks away, leaving an angry and flustered Ajax in our presence.

"I'll kill her."

Honor lays a hand sympathetically on his shoulder before walking pass. Ajax then flashes a look at both me and Azolla before him and Lamont disappear after the girls.

"Something is gonna happen soon," Azolla speaks quietly, squeezing on my hand gently as if I might be worried. It warms my heart to know that in a place like this, Azolla still manages to be exactly the same as she was within the Capitol. I always feared she would change; and truth be told, I didn't want that to happen. She's Azolla, my Azolla without knowing it. "Cyra is pushing the limit too far."

"And you're somehow surprised?" I laugh as we begin walking, much slower compared to the other four. "She's been like that since day one - now, the power is getting to her head."

"If she's not careful, Ajax will just spear her in the back. Then what?"

"We get on with everything else," I shrug, not really knowing what the right response would be. "If Cyra dies, there isn't much we can do. We might as well just keep on walking and moving forward. She'd do exactly the same if any of us died soon."

Azolla nods and mumbles in response, before looking at me directly in the eye. "Do you think you'd be able to move on, say, if I died in the next day or so?"

It's a strange, morbid question that no doubt causes my face to frown. Azolla notices it and smiles sadly, slowly pushing her hand out my mine.

"I see..."

"No no," I say, gripping her hand hard. "You didn't let me answer. I don't know what I'd feel, Azolla, truth be told I don't know what I feel now."

It's all a lie. An act. There isn't any point in me telling Azolla that I'm pretty much head over heels for her, because, well, she might not reciprocate as much as I want. As much as I yearn. It sounds absolutely ridiculous, and somehow, if the Capitol could read my thoughts, they'd no doubt laugh. It'd be an embarrassment and not because I love a girl who I've barely known; but for the fact that a Career should be heartless and driven, not floundering after a girl whose feelings aren't known.

"At least you're honest," Azolla smiles softly, but it's rather forced. "I appreciate that."

"There's no point in lying," I respond lightly, hoping to push it away. Azolla still hasn't changed; but I can sense there's something else there? Her hand goes limp in mine and I let it go. She seems a bit defeated, maybe even confused, I don't know. She begins walking and my mouth moves before my brain processes anything. "You didn't answer."

She stops. "To answer, I'd have to know, and I don't."

Margot Roybal, District Twelve Female.

Seeing Hacket's face in the sky feels me with a bit of dread and guilt, and slowly, I slip to the ground and take a seat. Kieran seems to understand and quietly slips into the trees, leaving me to my own. I expect myself to cry or something, but no tears form, and I should realise that as much as I want to cry, as much as I should cry, I just can't. Hacket wouldn't have cried over my death; why should I for him? Only one winner after all. If it's to be me, Hacket needs to be dead, and well, I'm glad someone else has done it.

I don't think I'd enjoy taking his life. Anyone's, actually, but it has to be done.

"You finished?" I hear Kieran say, hidden behind a tree.

"How kind of you," I growl back. "You can come out."

Kieran slides just past the trunk and offers the smallest, more kindest smile I'll probably ever get from her. Kieran, I've learned, isn't made for positive, kind feelings, much like me. That's one of the many things we seem to share in common. Our allies are both dead. My district partner is now on his way back to District Twelve alongside her district partner to District Ten. I don't know the names of anyone else besides Kieran. I can't feel remorse for any of the faces in the sky because I don't know them.

Me and Kieran have no-one but each other... and, well, it's not the greatest thing when we clash constantly.

"No-one is going to blame you for crying over your district partner's death."

I scoff. "You didn't cry over yours."

"Me and Sawyer weren't as close as you and yours clearly were," Kieran sighs. "Look, we only have each other now. We might as well make the most of it as we can."

"By doing what?"

Kieran pauses for a moment, kicking away a loose stone on the ground and bounds onto the tree, ricochet into the clearing and then comes to a stop at a soft piece of mud. Kieran's eyes furrow at it's quick stopping and slowly, she moves over there. I don't see the big deal in a stone stopping because it reaches mud. But, then, I hear the distinctive cackle of a brook. Kieran seems to gasp and I'm on my feet within seconds, by her side just as quick.

The scene in front can only be described as horrible.

A small river runs through parting in the trees, almost level with the ground. It's not even man-made; probably forged from the liquid constantly running through the mud.

And yes, I say liquid, because it definitely isn't water.

Kieran bends down and places her hand into the liquid.

"It's... it's warm and thick. I-I-It's..."

"Blood," I decide, because yes, it's the same colour as your uniform, crimson red and disgusting. Kieran saying it's warm and thick clarifies that it is indeed blood. A blood river? How fitting. "Our lovely river is indeed a river of blood."

"That's disgusting," Kieran gags, whipping her hand from the water and forcefully rubbing it on her suit. "Why?"

"Maybe they want us as vampires?" I joke. "You know, make us drink the blood to quench ourselves."

My joke turns out to be more for Kieran, and her eyes go wide and horrified. I could be true. If the backpacks only contain canisters, without water, then there must have been a water source somewhere in the entire arena. Clearly this is it. People will either dehydrate or they'll drink the blood. They can't have both. It's quite sickening to think about it. Even more sickening if you want to think about if it's real blood or simply a substitute.

"I'm not drinking it," Kieran stands her ground, crossing her arms over her chest. "I refuse to drink blood goddammit!"

A small smirk crosses my lips. "Then don't. No-one's forcing you."

And just like that, something new pops up and Hacket's image is vanished from my mind almost completely. He's still there, lingering, and probably always will. But no. I won't let myself cry or get upset over something I had no control over. I want to win. I want to go home. Letting Hacket dominate me after death isn't going to happen. I look to Kieran once more and her eyes soften but keep the sense of alert; she knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"You want to go hunting."

I've learned that me and Kieran are more alike than we'd like to think. I nod slowly. "Yes. I think we don't have enough time to just sit around anymore. It's a fight against dehydration."

Hayl Gartham, District Five Female.

The mud goes out from underneath me, taking my foot, and as my arms wave frantically, I fall backwards... only to be caught quickly by Dagan, his large arms around my waist. I feel familiar heat creep onto my face but push it away. Dagan helps me back onto my feet, his smile now a smirk.

"Don't laugh."

"You're so... innocent," Dagan laughs. "Sorry."

A crow above squawks and Dagan's eyes turn from warm to cold, his eyes snapping upwards to the source. The large bird sits perched on a branch, staring down with beady red eyes. It flaps it's wings whilst sitting, but it never flies. Dagan growls under his breath, hands on my shoulder. He whispers something I don't quite get, but he's then leading me forward and I understand he wants away from the bird. It's squawks grow more quieter as we lead it away.

"You know, I'm hungry," Dagan says randomly as we keep moving, skipping over trunks and roots unearthed. "And thirsty."

I smile, stopping and flipping the backpack over my shoulder, digging through. We have an empty canister but a small packet of dried apples. I pop the bag open and slip one out, plopping it into Dagan's open mouth. He grins after swallowing and heat, once again, claws at my cheeks. His face turns a similar beet red and I can't help but laugh at it. Everything seems to calm and sedated, it's almost like we're outdoors in the woods or something, not an arena full of death.

"Where are we heading then?" I ask, eating my own slice of fruit.

"I'm not sure, just keep moving I guess. If we stay, we could be found more easily."

I nod in response, closing the bag and zipping the backpack up once more. Dagan grabs his pitchfork and slips the spare knife - the knife he constantly asks me to arm myself with - into his boot, a black handle standing out against the red leg. The cut on his cheeks has healed a little, my make-shift stitches keeping it tame. He smiles and ushers me forward, and before I know it, we're walking once more. My feet ache and there's a constant pain in my leg, but I keep moving, determined to please Dagan. A large concrete wall comes into view and Dagan swears under his breath.

"What?"

"That can't be good," Dagan decides. "Anything could be behind it."

"Could be something a lot more nicer?"

Dagan scoffs. "Yeah right. The Gamemakers are never nice about anything. Guaranteed it's something for the finale."

"Finale?"

"Final five or three or something. Whenever the end is just in the last few kills. Don't you know that?"

I pause and shake my head. "Didn't really want anything to do with the Games if I'm honest. Didn't bother to educate myself in past Games. I know of Zeke and Cordelia's Games because, well, they are legendary in Five since they are our only Victors. I know my cousin's Games too, but I chose not to watch it."

I can see why it's bad. Most children learn or study themselves in the basics of the Games in the case or chance they are reaped. I didn't want to. Why would you want to learn about it? I know now, but before, I wouldn't have bothered. The further I could distance myself from them, the better, and now, I'm here because of something I didn't even want to watch. From Dagan's face and his thoughts on the wall, I can tell he knows a decent amount about it.

"What else do you know?"

"Not a lot," Dagan shrugs nonchalantly. "Those crows are Mutts, which means they're controlled, right?"

"I know that," I smirk. "I mean, in general."

Dagan's face contorts in confusion and then goes down, his voice now grave. "They'll kill you if you don't play the game properly."

"Properly?"

"If you don't kill or you don't fight. I shouldn't be saying it; but it's the only way to even give yourself a chance in survival."

His shrugs, his shoulders tight and tense, as he walks towards the wall. He runs his hand lightly across it and growls in apparent annoyance. He clenches his fist and it almost looks like he's about to hit until he stops himself, sighing harshly.

"What was that?"

"We need to do more, Hayl. I don't want too and it's not fair on you... but they won't let it happen. The thing behind here? It could easily be for us unless we do something."

And just like that, what was once calm and sedated is now ruined. He's right; I'll trust him because he's more educated in the Hunger Games than I am. But how? Why is Dagan so absorbed and knows so much? I'll never know. I don't even think I want to. It'd only ruin my image of him, and right now, Dagan's all I have and all I need.

I can't ruin that.

Azolla Midwell, District Four Female.

Marlin decides to keep hold of my hand despite what happened a brief moment ago. He's keeping his distance, though, I can tell that much. His hand might be linked to mine but his heart definitely isn't into it. He's holding on for the sake of it, not for a want. It makes my heart sink a little but maybe that's the thing I need? Maybe I need to learn to distance myself from Marlin; he won't be around forever and the last thing I need is to fall for someone that can't stay alive with me.

Why didn't I realise this earlier?

I don't know. I got absorbed by Marlin's kind words, kindness in general and then his warm heart. Everything just engulfed me far too quickly.

I like him. I'll forever like him. But it has to stop at there. I can lose a friend and mend myself, I don't know if I could mend myself after losing someone I care a lot more than a friend.

Cyra stops, hand in the air, directing us to stop. A dark smile is plastered on her face as she tilts her head from side to side.

"Here she goes again, using her perfect sense of smell like a canine," Ajax whispers, quiet enough for Cyra and Lamont to not hear, but enough for the rest of us. Without realising it, we've already been divided. Cyra is on her own, Lamont will choose to be on his own, Ajax might pair up with Honor and then I'll be with Marlin. "Oh great Cyra, do you smell something?"

"I hear something, actually," Cyra growls. "Footsteps."

We all stop and strain our ears before a whip of bright hair runs through the trees.

"Go!" Cyra shouts.

She runs forward, everyone else following, and a shriek can be heard from the bright haired girl. She shouts something I can't quite make up, but it's clearly for someone else. Then her footsteps are joined by another pair, and then another pair, and it's easy to tell there's three of them. My heart thuds as we jump over roots and side-step through trees, all chasing after the others. Ajax pulls back his arm and throws his spear when he catches the sight of strawberry blonde hair; not the bright hair, but maybe the hair of the ally?

It doesn't hit, but someone cries out, possibly scratched.

Our running is in vain. Ajax stops to collect his spear, embedded in the trunk, and he's quickly left behind. Whatever Cyra had her eye on has disappeared in the mass of trees. She growls, and instantly, a loud, thundering scream rockets through the nearby trees. Her grin is dark and powerful, but as she looks around, she can't quite work out the source. "Everyone, split up. Someone go back and get Ajax, the poor idiot must be crying over being abandoned."

Everyone nods in response, Cyra clawing at Lamont's elbow and leading him one way. Honor sighs and motions her hand backwards, confirming she'll go find Ajax for us. I doubt he's lost, but we left him a bit back; he might walk the wrong direction unless he can hear Cyra's constant babbling and animalistic growls.

"Just us then," Marlin says quietly. "This way."

He holds his trident at a level height as he scours for the alliance we just lost. I keep my harpoon by my side, not really wanting to use it but deciding I need to look like I want to. I want to win; but I want to kill on a fair fight, not a disadvantage. As far as I know, the alliance could be lost, small, scared and without weapons. Then, a part of me wants to find them and feels defeated when Marlin looks behind some trees and doesn't find anyone. If we find them, well, Marlin might be like me and decide it's best to let them escape. If Cyra or Lamont was to find them, well, three faces in the sky tonight for sure. I say tonight, but really, only a few minutes after the deaths. We don't get a tonight because it's always dark without sun. The shadows creep across the ground so hauntingly and Marlin slowly backs up, keeping by my side.

"I'm here." he whispers kindly.

"I can tell." I whisper just as quietly, a smirk evident in my voice.

A crow squawks. I flinch, gripping my weapon tight as we descend deeper and deeper in the darkness. Everywhere seems to be different in light; some areas are lighter, some are darker, some are illuminated by the red lights or the white moon. A crow squawks and I blink hard, realising it's becoming hard to see everything. I can see in front of me and to the sides, I can make out Marlin's figure, but not that much further ahead. I don't see a tree until I'm almost on top of it.

Marlin grunts before a loud thud. "Great. I tripped. Don't worry."

I laugh a little as a crow squawks. My eyebrows furrow at that. It seems... louder. Fear takes place as Marlin goes a little too quiet.

"Marlin?"

He mumbles back in return and I'm not mistaken by the thousands of bright, beady red eyes staring at me, scattered in the trees above. Marlin must be near me since I can feel his breath ghosting over my neck. I think we've found the bird's nest.

Then, as quick as a flash, the red eyes descend downwards, a swarm of blood orbs in the darkness, chased by squawks. I feel Marlin grab my body and force me onto the floor, followed by his scream. I stand up to help, swinging my harpoon and a spare knife around, smiling to myself when it meets something solid but then crying in response when I feel toughened talons claw at my back, pushing me to the ground. I scream again and the weight is gone from my chest. I can't see. I can't see.

Then, my heart stops.

Marlin cries loud. A broken, loud, bursting cry that erupts from his throat. I can't see him but his cries don't stop, hollering to the skies, to the Gamemakers, begging them to stop the crows. His cry becomes weak, still going but much more defeated. I stagger back and forth, unable to find his figure coated by moonlight. I hear the flap of wings and the red eyes begin to disappear. Marlin cries again and I try to find him, sweeping my foot out and spraying my hands. I can feel warm, sticky blood dribbling down my back, my arms, a stinging sensation on my neck.

My foot hits something and Marlin just screams.

I bend down to his shaking form, unable to see anything. I run my hands over his body, feeling the bumps and sensing the ripped shreds of his uniform, falling at the seams. My hands reach his face and he flinches. It's warm and sticky, coated in blood probably, but I make out his lips, nose, cheeks and then I reach his eyes.

My heart thuds and my stomach boils. Instead of touching lumps where his eyes should be, I touch what I presume is his eyelid, expecting to feel his eyeball behind. It's warm, sticky, and he cries.

There's no eyeball behind; it's a hollow hole.

His other eye is exactly the same.

They clawed Marlin's eyes out, and that's when my scream, pained, joins his cries in the air.

Danielle Rune, District Three Female.

Aspen runs his hand tentatively over my boot, unlacing the laces. I hiss in pain and tears silently trail my face. He slips my boot off and from behind, Evy looks sickened. I don't want to look as Aspen takes my sock off; but my eyes automatically lock onto my ankle, a sickly green and yellow, a bone ghosting just underneath the flesh.

"Your ankle is broken, I think," Aspen seems pained. "I think."

"Of course it's broken!" Evy cries, holding her arm with her hand. I can see some skin between her fingers, which means she must have been hurt. "A bone wouldn't be there and we wouldn't see it if it wasn't broken!"

"Don't shout at me!" Aspen shouts back. "I-I-I'm n-not a doctor."

"Clearly!"

I squeeze my eyes shut when Aspen places my sock and boot back on, hissing through gritted teeth and allowing the tears to run freely. Everyone holds their breath when a loud, ferocious scream echoes around us. Running from the Careers done this. I trailed back from Aspen and Evy, upset and tormented by seeing the boy from Twelve crush Chip's skull. The vivid image wouldn't leave my mind. Then, I saw a glimpse of the Careers, specifically the girl from Two, scythe in hand, and I panicked. I ran and they chased. They threw a spear and we avoided it, though it must have hit Evy even lightly. Then, we were close to freedom; I didn't see the stump. I ran straight into it, tripping over it and then slamming down awkwardly. I screamed in pain and Aspen helped hobble me to safety.

"We need medicine." Aspen decides.

"Yeah, well, why don't we just go down to the drug store and collect some!"

"There's no need to argue, Evy." Aspen's voice is quiet.

I keep my eyes closed by I hear Evy or Aspen - I can't tell - moving, boots crunching maple leaves and twigs. Then, the sound of Evy crying. I force my eyes open when I see Aspen applying a bandage to Evy's wound, which proves to be a deep gash on her upper arm. I look up, my heart hammering, tears dried on my cheeks and the blur of fresh ones in my eyes, to look through the canopy, expecting to hear a cannon and then see a face. Nothing comes and the shadows begins to loom over.

"There you go, sorted," Aspen says, and I look back to see Evy holding onto the white bandages, her red suit torn open on her arm. She carelessly rips the seams and yanks the thing off, turning one side into a short top, the other still with a sleeve. Aspen crosses the small clearing, lined with the trees, and sits down by my side. "Do you want some water?"

"We haven't got any." I respond.

"I can go find some," Aspen smiles. "You might be dehydrated."

Aspen's far too kind and loyal for this alliance. Evy, constantly mean and hardened and then me, pretty much useless and now, Aspen is willing to find water for me. But then what? A broken ankle means barely being able to walk without support. I'll only drag them down.

"You're an ally, Danielle, don't think differently," Aspen says, clearly seeing my face and reading my thoughts, if I knew he could. "If you want water, I'll go get it."

I nod, running my tongue on the roof of my mouth and realising it's thick of fur. Aspen smiles and gets up, collecting the metal canister from the bag. Evy glares at him as he passes her, but he jokingly sweeps down and places a kiss in her hair, but to Evy's disgust. Aspen disappears into the darkness, leaving me and Evy. Evy looks down at me from the stump she's sat on.

"He's too nice. This thing will swallow him whole. He doesn't deserve death and he definitely doesn't deserve the life of a mentor."

Evy's words are true. It's true for all the tributes in here, including the Careers, in over their heads. The Hunger Games have never been a pleasure, only a pain. My ankle throbs in pain and I choose not to cry. No more tears. Aspen is kind but he can't manage this alliance on his own. Evy could help, but it's if she plans to or not. I need to step up. Ironically, I can't, but I must. For my alliance, I must.

If we're to survive, I need to act like a tribute, not a girl.

Blood, Sweat and Tears by Paloma Faith.

The blog for this story is bttw hunger games . blogspot - all deaths will be notified here!

No deaths.

All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.

I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!

So far, who would you like to see get further than others out of alliances? So like, the alliance of Evy, Aspen and Danielle for example, who would you want to see last the longest?

And of course, a general review on my writing or the storyline is much appreciated and noted!

I know there were no deaths this chapter, but I thought it'd be a good time to introduce more of the arena, plots and the crows a bit more. Next chapter and every chapter after that will include deaths, so try not to get attached too much!

Also, I would suggest going back to the first chapter of this story (the prologue) because it's been updated. I've wrote and edited out the backstory to this SYOT, so you'll get a better idea of how many Victors are alive, the real thing that still includes the Victor's Purge despite no rebellion and so forth.

From now on, all my SYOTs will be based in what is dubbed the EsmeraldaVerse; the Games after the rebellion never went ahead. So, Wild One is the 105th and all others will continue to go upwards. Got it? :)