Author's Note: So, I think I am going to do a reviewer awards thing. Here are the rules:

1. We have to get to 150 reviews. Can you handle that?

2. I'll be rewarding the top two places with free story requests.

3. The rankings include ties, so I'll probably actually hand out more than two.

That sound good to you all?

Recommended Listening: Head Games by Foreigner

Fronce Foybon, District 6

"We're all going to die!"

I set down the berry I was picking with a sigh. "We are not going to die," I inform Igris yet again. He still doesn't seem convinced.

"What's going on now?" comes a grumble. Looks like Igris's shouting has woken up China.

Igris points an accusatory finger at me. "He's poisoned us all!"

"What...?" comes the drowsy reply as China sits up.

"Just ignore him; he's spouting nonsense," I sigh.

"Nonsense? Nonsense? This is not nonsense! If those are the same berries you put in the sauce last night...!"

"What berries?" China responds, looking around for the insinuator of this whole mess.

"These," I say, pointing to the meager pile of berries I've picked since the recent sunrise.

"Yes!" Igris responds. "The poisonous ones right there!"

I sigh. "Igris, they're not—"

"Yes, they are! I can guarantee I saw those in the Training Center, and they are poisonous!"

"Wait, what?" China responds, a bit more awake.

"I know what berries they are, Igris. And, unlike you, I know the proper way to use my ingredients."

Igris splutters. "When have I ever used ingredients incorrectly?"

I look at him blankly. "How about the time you substituted motor oil for olive oil?"

"I was out!"

"Why do you even act like that's an excuse?" I say in disbelief.

"Well—you're leading us off-subject!" he decides.

"I think it was actually your fault."

"I—"

"But," I interrupt, "I believe I was trying to explain why we're not poisoned. These berries—" I pick up my little stash—"can hardly be called poisonous in small amounts. With the diluted sauce I used, you'd have to get a good couple more spoonfuls than I dished out to just get sick. You'd probably have to down the whole rest of the bowl to actually die from it."

"Say what?" China deadpans, suddenly seeming a bit pale.

"There's nothing to worry about," I repeat. "I didn't give anyone a lethal amount. Especially you. Since you're a girl, you probably weigh less than us, and I wasn't completely sure how much your system could handle. So I gave you less. You'll be fine; don't worry about it."

China laughs weakly. "I... wouldn't be so sure about that..."

"What do you mean?" I respond slowly.

More nervous laughter. "On my watch last night, I... kind of... had a midnight snack..."

It takes a moment for her words to sink in. "You... You didn't—!" I scramble over to our supplies and find the bowl, which looks untouched. The cover comes off rather easily, though, and when I look down... The inside of the bowl is licked completely clean.

"...I thought I felt a little queasy last night, but I blamed it on nervousness from being in the Games..." She finishes with another laugh, a little more high-pitched this time.

I look back at the empty bowl with disbelief once more before setting it down.

Eston von Bock, District 7

Looks like another day of slave labour for Raivis and me.

The tree our alliance is settled in has its share of wildlife. If it's within Vahn's—and his pickaxe's—range, we don't have to worry about actually killing anything. Although the tree is so tall most of its branches are actually out of range, a few straggling wooden arms reach low enough for Vahn to get to.

For breakfast today, we have a squirrel and two bright yellow birds. In most alliances, you would assume that means we get one each, but if yesterday's trends continue, the total's going to be split in favour of our captor.

But, no matter how much we actually end up getting, Raivis and I are the only ones preparing the meat. Even better, we still don't have anything to skin them with other than our fingers and sharp rocks.

Either way, we get at it. Who knows if we would find food at all on our own, anyway, right?

Okay, that's a pretty bad excuse. We just kind of don't have a choice.

I'm about halfway done with the squirrel when my ally yelps.

I snap my gaze up. "What happened?"

"O-Oh, nothing," he stutters, rubbing his right index finger with his other hand. "Just... nicked my finger."

"Ah, okay." I go back to my work, but in a few seconds I notice Raivis hasn't done the same. "Are you sure that's it?"

"Y-Yeah..." He looks down at the little smear of blood and sighs shakily.

"You still kind of shaken up from last night?" I suggest sympathetically.

He nods, looking at me with the kind of puppy dog eyes that could sway President Snow. "I-I'm scared, Eston," he says softly. "Do you—do you really think he'll... ch-chop off my f-fingers?"

I look down. "I don't know" is all I can truthfully say.

Raivis makes a small whining sound, rubbing his hands together like he's paranoid of losing them. "What if—wh-what if he ch-chops them a-all off?" he whimpers.

"He won't do that," I assure him. "He's only keeping us around to do the dull work for him, so you'd be useless without fingers."

Instead of comforting him, this suddenly sends him into more of a frenzy.

"H-He's going t-to chop them all off, and th-then I'll b-be useless, and h-he'll k-kill me!" he squeaks.

"No, no, that won't happen!" I reply, reaching over and grabbing Raivis by his shaking shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. "The only reason he's threatening to chop off your fingers is so you won't run away. And he said if we didn't stay with him, he'd kill us. So he's doing this in order to not have to kill you."

"O-Okay..." Raivis looks down at his hands. "B-But he'll try to kill us sometime," he whispers.

"It's only the second day. Don't worry about it," I say, removing my hands and re-seizing the squirrel.

...Honestly, I'm a bit unnerved myself, now. We might be all right on food and protection, but... It'll only last so long. When the time comes for Vahn to turn on us...

I'm not sure what we'll do.

Greis Karpusi, District 8

The Cornucopia's not a bad mattress. Granted, I have to curl up pretty tight to fit in the tip of the horn, and the only blanket I have is a few packets of slings and things stacked up to obscure me from view, but... Not too shabby.

Heh. Before yesterday, I never would have thought I'd be hiding out here. But with so few Careers left after the bloodbath, I knew this thing would be unguarded when they went out to hunt. I wasn't expecting the 11's to ally with them, but it all worked out in the end, anyway.

So, while I'd rather not risk the noisiness of having breakfast, I didn't have too bad a feast last night. There were a lot of fruits, so my backpack has a few extra apple cores and banana peels in it. Wouldn't want to leave those lying around where the Careers could see them.

I wonder just how long I could stay in here. For the time being, until they need some slings and wrist braces. But I could rearrange the supplies back here every night, pulling the least-needed items close... As long as I stay silent, I'd be hard to find.

Oh, I'll probably leave when the Careers go hunting next. I shouldn't press my luck.

Although I guarantee this horn's going to be a lot emptier when I go.