Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9

Shimmer kicks me away from her, but we're both falling, tumbling through the rocks that are falling alongside us. My panicking mind somehow registers that we're in a massive, underground cavern, which is lit from the distant floor with an eerie, red glow. There's light from the hole above us, too, but it's quickly receding…

…but not as quickly as it ought to be…

I look around. Me, Shimmer, the rocks—we're all falling slowly, like we're sinking through water instead of air. It's like gravity decided to get lazy. Strange…

My heartbeat slows down a bit. I'm not going to die from falling, at least, I think as I hug my arm to my chest, trying to stop the bleeding and ignore the pain. Everything had been moving too quickly up there for me to even draw my hunting knife, which, thankfully, is still in my belt, although I've lost my backpack.

I wipe sweat from my forehead as I look over at Shimmer, who is a few yards to my right. She's glancing downward furtively as she nurses her right hand, and her leg is swathed in bandages. All in all, she's more injured than I am now. I'll have an advantage once we get to the bottom of this cavern.

Hopefully, she can't throw with her off hand…

I'm relaxed, gliding downwards, surrounded by rocks, but I'm still sweating like crazy. Why is it so hot all of a sudden? Shouldn't caves like this be cool because the sun doesn't shine this deep…?

I look back at Shimmer, who is still staring downwards, fingering her knife—her last one, I think; at least I can't see any more from here—with her left hand. She glances over at me, scowls, and then quickly turns her gaze downwards again, drawing her knife.

There's a sinking feeling in my stomach, and it's not from the fall. I look down.

My heart begins to pound again.

"Fluid fire, flowing flames…!" I whisper. There is no bottom. The distant ground is a mass of seething, bubbling red liquid. Heat radiates up from it as strongly as if it were a forest fire in the summer. I've never seen it before, but in school once my teacher mentioned a hot, red liquid that encircled the Earth's core and sometimes spurted out of volcanoes in deadly, fiery floods.

Lava. The ground is lava. And we are falling right towards it.

XXX

Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1

Nine's eyes widen in fear and she mutters something under her breath. It's about time she looked down!

The fingers on my right hand are bent in many directions, and none of them are natural. My left hand's fine, though, and I'm just as deadly with that one.

Somehow, the Gamemakers have slackened gravity. Maybe with altered force field technology?

That's irrelevant right now. I have to kill Nine before we reach the lava, which is too close for comfort—the heat is stifling—and getting closer by the second. If I don't…

There's got to be a hovercraft on standby or something, waiting to pick up the Victor.

I swing my arm through the air, trying to determine how much my aim will be affected by the altered gravity. Nine draws her own knife, glancing at me warily as she grabs a stone out of the air with her other hand.

I laugh. "What are you going to do with that?" I call.

She shrugs. "Something," she mutters. "Anything. I can't do nothing."

"Yes, you can," I say. "You could do nothing, and wait to get burnt to a crisp. It would make my job a lot easier—not that I'm worried. You die up here or down there; it's all the same to me."

"You might land before I do," says Nine.

"Corpses are heavier," I reply, taking aim.

"Your hair will burn," she says in a faraway voice, not seeming to notice.

"Your skin will turn

A rotten shade of black,

Down to the bone.

You'll scream and moan

As your life's taken back

Down to the place

That ends the race,

Where we're all running to.

My allies and friends

Whose lives you did end

Are there, waiting for you…"

"Shut up, forever!" I snap, whipping my left arm through the air and letting the knife, my last knife, sail towards her heart. It's moving slower than it usually would, but it's still fast enough to—

Nine draws her hands up close to her chest, trapping my blade between her rock and knife.

"Let's go down into the flames together, and we'll see who comes out alive," she calmly says.

I scream in fury as she throws my knife ahead of us, down towards the lava. It falls…

…and then it jerks sideways and skids in midair, as though it had landed on a hard surface, before falling again and dropping into the lava. A nearby rock does a similar dance, pausing in its descent and rolling before continuing downward.

Nine throws her rock. It falls, jerks, rolls, and stays still, resting on nothing.

Then my feet hit the invisible surface. The unexpected impact must hurt my injured leg, but I have so many cuts, breaks, and bruises, I don't seem to feel pain anymore. I don't feel much of anything anymore.

Nine squeaks in alarm as she lands in a sitting position, her feet hanging lower than the rest of her.

I don't need a knife to kill her. I'm Shimmer Argent, Winner of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games.

I. Will. Win.

XXX

Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9

I slowly slide backwards, feeling around behind me as I pull my legs up. It's like I'm sitting at the edge of a cliff, with my legs dangling over the edge, except that I can't see the cliff. Am I sitting on glass? Or is it a force field? And is this the edge of the surface, or a hole? Are there more holes? Am I backing up right towards a hole?

Blood from my arm is dripping down to my palm, which is leaving sticky, red handprints on the invisible surface. At least I can tell that it's safe to place my feet there. The rest I'll have to guess.

I slowly stand. It's so disorienting, looking like I'm standing in midair. I try not to look down at the lava, but the incredible heat and the occasional plunk of a submerging rock reminds me of its existence. I shuffle my feet nervously, not daring to place too much weight on one limb, just in case that limb slides into a hole, and then…

Don't think about it, Kayla! You're going to be fine.

Keep your eyes on Shimmer, Kay. You can do this.

"Right," I reply. "Right. I can do this."

Somehow.

Shimmer's inching towards me, slightly stooped over, her hands slightly clenched. She reminds me of a bear or another predator on the hunt. It's in her stance, in her eyes. She's stalking me.

But I've been stalked before. And I have stalked, as well. We're both hunters here, in the woods, chasing down prey.

And I plan on bringing home the biggest kill tonight.

That's it, Kay. It's just a hunt. Let's fill the quota.

"You were always the better hunter, Iceburg," I say, sliding around the hole I nearly fell through earlier.

Not anymore.

He's right, Kayla. You're the one who's still alive.

"You're not…?"

I hesitate. The sizzling pop of bubbles below me, the rumble of falling rocks above and around me, Shimmer in front of me. Bergamot and Anise aren't here. Or are they? I keep thinking that I hear… that I see…

A rock about the size of my fist falls right in front of me, dropping through to the lava, and I stop just in time to avoid stepping in the hole that it just alerted me to. I have to stay focused.

The falling rock gives me an idea, however…

Shimmer takes another step, dragging her injured leg along behind her. It doesn't seem to be taking any weight now. Funny, now she's the one with a limp. Now she's the helpless prey.

I take a step to the side, tightening my grip on the hilt of my knife. Shimmer matches my move, confidently planting her feet firmly on the invisible surface. I'm not watching her, though—I'm watching the falling rocks. They're still coming down from the distant, crumbling ceiling. I watch them hit, bounce, and fall.

Shimmer's getting closer and closer, laughing as she does so. It's a low, haunting cackle. She reaches her right hand out towards me; her fingers are curled like claws, like the claws on her outfit at the parade, the crystal monster's claws, threatening to rip me to shreds.

I jump at the claws, at the hands, surprising Shimmer and knocking her off-balance. She cries out as her lame leg slides sideways, right into the hole that I knew was there.

The rest of her torso follows it.

I roll aside, stopping my tumble as quickly as I can. Shimmer screeches, but it's not her dying yell; I can still hear her labored breathing.

I turn around, hunched in a crawling position. Somehow, Shimmer had managed to grab the edge of the hole with her left hand. She was holding her weight up by one fist, her fingers curled around something neither of us could see. I begin to crawl over to her, slowly feeling around in front of me, one hand leaving blood, the other still holding on to my knife for dear life, much in the same way that Shimmer's holding on.

"No!" she cries in a voice that's somewhere between a grunt and a wail. "I'm the Victor! Me! This isn't how it's supposed to end!"

"You're wrong," I whisper, reaching the edge of her hole and staring down at her. "You're wrong. This is exactly how it's supposed to be, Shimmer. It's all according to the Plan."

"Not my plan!" she protests, trying to lift her lower arm, but she can't raise herself high enough to reach the surface with it. "This wasn't my plan!"

I frown slightly. "You're right. It wasn't your plan. Nor, in the end, was it mine. I never really expected to get this far, but now…"

I hesitate, raising my gaze to the distant, light space above that is the sunlight.

"Here we stand, right on the brink

Of a world that I did not dare to think

Or hope—No, I did hope, for more,

For the chance to take the final score.

To bring one joy, to rise above,

To feel, to live, to cry, to love.

Who knows what's right, or what is real?

All we have is what we feel:

The sun's warm rays, the song of birds,

A friend's embrace and soothing words…"

I turn my gaze back to Shimmer, look her in the eyes, and raise my knife.

"The rush of blood, and hunger's pangs—

Now, doomed hunter, feel my fangs!"

My blade slices through her fingers, dripping red onto the surface. She screams, an inhuman wail of a cry, and she lets go. The wail continues as she falls, finally ending when the lava covers her head.

For a moment, there's silence.

Then the cannon fires, its sound echoing through the cavern. Before it completely dies away, the trumpets begin to play.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Claudius Templesmith's voice booms. "I am pleased to present the victor of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games, Kayla Rakkor! I give you—the tribute of District Nine!"

The cheers of the Capitol viewers, blaring from speakers somewhere, are deafening, but they barely seem to touch my ears. I uncurl my fingers, which don't seem to have any strength in them anymore, from the knife and let it fall. It sinks into the lava and disappears. Just like Shimmer. I wonder if there's anything left of her to take back to District One.

It's strange how numb I feel. It's like I'm not even here. Someone else just won the Hunger Games, someone I've been watching on the television.

There's a ladder in front of me. I blink at it.

Up you go, Kay, Bergamot says, taking my hands and placing them on the ladder.

"I'm so tired," I whisper.

You can rest for as long as you wish, Kayla, Anise assures me, her lips gently brushing my cheek. We'll watch over you.

The ladder sends a current through me, freezing me to it as it pulls me up into the hovercraft. The instant it lets me go again, I sag to the cool floor. It feels so nice against my hot skin.

Someone touches my arm, but I just want to lie down here forever, with Anise and Bergamot sitting next to me, keeping an eye out for hunters.

I don't want to worry anymore.

I just want to sleep…

XXX

Remaining Tributes:

Tribute-Name-Age

9G Kayla Rakkor 15

Victor of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games

A.N.: Early reviewers seem to be under the impression that the story is over. There will be more chapters. There's still post-game, after all!