A day passes, we cross to the final island, and another tribute dies. I had long forgotten my partner from District 9, Ames – I had considered him forgotten, like some shadow of my past I hadn't cared to remember. Now, seeing him in the sky last night, headed home to the district in a box…I feel a hole in my stomach. I never felt anything for my fellow tribute; he was a boorish, arrogant boy; heck, I hadn't even remembered him when recounting the surviving tributes to Mako. Still, realizing that I am the final, last hope for District 9 hits just a little harder than I would have thought.

On the other hand, now all the sponsorships Omaha and Selene gather go to me. Hooray.

The sun's bright and warm as I wake up to Day 6 of the Games. Soft waves ripple against the shore here on this bamboo- and palm-covered isle, white sand already hot and dry beneath my fingers. Autumn's up already from keeping watch in the early morning, curled up sitting and watching the shoreline as Mako snoozes nearby.

"Hey," I say groggily, pushing myself up from my palm leaf bed. "Anything exciting happen?"

"A coconut fell off of a tree…and the sun came up," Autumn answers wearily. "I'm not really a morning person…at least it doesn't get cold here."

"I thought you'd be used to the cold," I reply, stretching out on the sand to work the kinks out of my sleep. "District 7 being in the North and all."

"You don't have to like it to live in it," she notes.

I can see the wandering look in her eyes as she stares out at the morning horizon. She wants to go home as much as any of us; despite her quiet demeanor and withdrawn attitude, Autumn's expression gives away what's lying beneath her skin.

Damn these Hunger Games.

"What's it like?" I ask, more to divert my attention away from such morbid thoughts than anything. "Your home? It's…just, I've never been away from District 9 naturally, and I'm curious."

"It's…it's nice," she gives me a fraction of a smile, still staring off into the sun. "It's alive. There are trees everywhere; big ones, little ones. Lots of birds and other animals. Everything's green and brown and woody. Even all our homes are built inside the forest, with trails leading to parts of the district between trees and groves. At the center of town in the square, there's a giant tree…it must be so old, but it reaches up at least two hundred feet. The Justice Hall's built around it, so I never got to see the base of its trunk until the Reaping."

"I remember," she continues with a sad smile. "My little sisters, Summer and Brooke, were both still amazed by it when they walked in to…to say goodbye…hm."

Autumn looks down at her feet, her eyes darkening. I feel bad; I've led her right into memories best left forgotten. No one wants to be reminded that they'll likely never see their family and friends again.

"Hey," I scoot closer to her. "You'll see them again one day."

"If I do, then you'll be dead. Or vice versa," she sniffs. "There's only one winner. I'm sick of this."

"We all are, Autumn. But we don't have a choice. We have to go keep going."

I throw a hand over her shoulder, doing my best to comfort her when my own emotions are anything but stable. I have friends and family hoping I'll return too, even if it is only a few people. I wonder how Reed, Shrike, and my brother have been coping…are they turning into dark, unstable messes? That's not Sage, but Shrike wouldn't surprise me.

Well…at least maybe she and Reed will get together now.

"The Hell are you guys up already?" Mako grunts sleepily from behind us. "Freakin' morning people."

I throw a mean look back at him, but he's already turned and started stretching on the warm sand. Great timing, Mako. I pat Autumn on the shoulder and grab a piece of our remaining cooked fish, getting breakfast down as quickly as possible as Mako outlines his next plan for us.

"Right," he says, knocking some of the charred coals from last evening's fire around with his bamboo spear. "We haven't run into a single person since…well, since running into a mutt that sorta looked like a person. Gamesmakers haven't even thrown natural disaster our way yet – "

"They probably will now," Autumn grumbles.

"Euh…commentary…" Mako waves his hand at her. "Whatever. Before I was so rudely interrupted, obviously things are going swell for everyone watching with the nice little stream of deaths and action going on. We're rapidly running out of tributes to kill; however. The kids from 1 and Sulla are in a team; we know that. Tethys looked virtually unkillable back at the Cornucopia dueling with Sulla, and she's roaming around somewhere out there; I don't want her sneaking up on us. We're here. That leaves a few people…the two kids from 12, who I'm guessing have to be working together to survive this long from such an outlying district, the small girl from 10, and Autumn's missing-in-action district partner. Facts are facts; someone's going to have to kill them. We haven't done anything entertaining in a while – so I say we go hunt a few kids down."

"Hunt them down?" I question, furrowing my brow. "Mako, we're different from Crystal and Tethys because we don't just go looking to kill everyone."

"It's the goddamn Hunger Games, Skye," he pounds his spear butt into the sand. "It's not a courtesy call. If we sit on our asses out here, we're game to be picked off by another mutt or a typhoon or something. I'm not willing to take that chance just waiting to be offed."

"Then why'd we come out here to this island? Why not just go back to the main one?"

"Because I know how they're thinking, the tributes who aren't killers," he answers me. "Hell, my mentor Finnick told me himself during training. They're going to hightail it away from the Cornucopia and put as much distance between themselves and Crystal's gang – who are no doubt hording supplies there. That means they come here – which we haven't seen – or they've headed to the other island. I wanted to come out here because I wanted to box in the people we can kill without risking life and limb. Since we haven't run into anyone else, it's likely they're on the far island."

"We can't just walk on water over there," I dismiss. "There happens to be a bay and a coral reef between this island and that one."

"Yeah, I know what water looks like," he frowns, giving me an annoyed look. "This bamboo? It's damn good at floating and easy to make things with. There's plenty of vines hanging around the inside of this island, and other materials we can use. We're not exactly hurting for things here. Want to impress the Gamesmakers, make them want to keep us going? Then let's show them something impressive. We're gonna build a raft, we're gonna paddle over to that other island, and we're gonna go tilt the odds a little more in our favor."

I'm impressed with Mako's strategic thinking, but I don't want to simply go on a killing spree. I already stressed enough over Lattice's murder when he attacked me – launching an offensive on the weaker tributes, particularly the little girl from 10, isn't my idea of a fair fight. Still, I told Mako he was in charge…and I don't have any better ideas.

"Autumn?" I turn towards our companion. "Are you fine with this?"

Her green eyes flit between Mako and I, hesitant to speak up with opposition: "I think you guys already made up your minds."

"Good, unanimous," Mako cuts off any dissent. "Time to get to work. Skye, gimme your sword; I'm gonna go cut down a few bamboo trunks. You two start gathering vines and palm leaves; one of you work on getting some food together, whether that's coconuts or fish or whatever. We need to be stocked up if we're gonna go out and hunt some tributes down, and the Gamesmakes haven't left us high and dry or anything."

Mako lurks off into the woods, leaving Autumn and I alone on the beach. She's not interested in following his orders, however; my little ally instead grabs the glass bottle of petrol Mako's been holding onto since he found it in the mutt cave and rummages around in my pack.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I don't think he knows what he's doing with this," she murmurs, pulling out the ragged, dirty cloth towel from the sack. "The vehicles the Peacekeepers back home ride in use petrol to work. It's flammable…so if Mako's afraid of getting snuck up on by one of the other tributes, this can be another weapon they won't expect."

"So…just shoot one our flares into it, or something?"

"No. Stick the cloth in the top, screw the lid back on, and then light it on fire if somebody attacks. Throw it at them, and it turns into a fire bomb."

"That's…way too smart for the Hunger Games," I smile.

"Well, he's gonna get us all killed if he wants to go hunt tributes. I figure I'd better make a backup plan."

"Are you okay with this?" I ask warily. "I didn't want to say anything, but…"

"He's right, Skye," Autumn opines. "I don't want to do it either, but…if we don't find them, someone else will. I just don't want to have to actually do the killing part."

"I guess we'll all have to eventually if we want to get out of here," I bemoan. "Things can never really be the same after this…mutts, dead kids…"

"Look, let's just do our work," she replies quickly as she stuffs the towel into the petrol bottle's mouth. "I don't want to spend any more time thinking about this besides what I actually have to."

I leave Autumn to work on grabbing vines and other vegetation, preoccupying myself with focusing on finding food. Mako taught me the basics of swimming when we came to the island yesterday, and while he's not a very good teacher – nor I gifted at the task – I've got the basics of keeping myself afloat and moving in the water. It's enough where I can at least paddle myself a few feet out from where I can't touch the bottom of the sand, hoping to use Mako's spear to catch a fish or two.

The water's beautiful here, especially up close, and the job keeps my thoughts occupied from dwelling on how to force myself to kill again. Brightly colored corals dot the shallow bottom near my feet; if it wasn't for Mako's warning that they can be poisonous, I'd waste all my time collecting them and marveling over their oranges, blues, and reds. Small fish and squid dart around like colorful shooting stars in the water, jetting this way and that in fantastical patterns. If this is how the sea is in District 4, I envy Mako and the people from Panem's fishing district.

A white and gray seabird with a long, large bill floats by on the water, barking at me and flapping its wings angrily when I reach out to touch it. I suppose it would make a good meal, but I can't bring myself to stab the bird; it seems so content floating on by, watching the small, black fish that bolt in large schools for its next meal. I wish I could be that satisfied here.

I turn out to be a poor excuse for a spearfisher, but the flat, tan flounders that lie on the bottom of the seabed make for easy prey. I hold my breath, awkwardly kicking with my legs in the warm water and sticking my head into the ocean. There's one now, its black, beady eyes just visible under a camouflage of sand. I hold my spear out, hovering the point a foot above the fish before jamming the weapon into the creature's back. It squirms and wriggles, but no use – I've got it tight. In no time, I've got an actual fish to eat and a sense of accomplishment.

I add a few coconuts, another flounder, and some easy-to-grab mussels and crabs near the shore to bolster our food supply. We have enough water to make ends meet with the Gamesmakers pouring down rain every night, and this should be good to keep us going for at least a couple days.

Mako's returned by the time I get everything together, pushing a dozen bamboo trunks together with his feet and chopping holes in their ends.

"How's poking a hole in the raft going to help it float?" I ask.

"I'm gonna jam those smaller bamboo trunks through the holes," he nods over at a pair of thin rods in the sand. "Keep everything together that way. We'll at least know the raft won't fall apart on its own while we paddle over to the other island."

"What if we run into a mutt or something? Another eel?"

"Well…wouldn't be much different than a mutt on land, huh?"

We receive a gift in the middle of the afternoon. I've wondered about the lack of sponsorship gifts considering we're a team – with Mako's good looks to give us an edge with wealthy Capitol citizens – but apparently our plentiful supplies and run-ins with mutts have pushed our mentors to opt for a pricier gift rather than showering down food and basic materials. Floating down on a parachute is one of the stranger things I've seen delivered in the Hunger Games – a circular silver shield.

"Huh," Mako remarks as we inspect our gift. "I don't get it. We have a spear, a sword…what's this for?"

"Something we can't fight," Autumn answers quietly.

"What?"

"It's a warning," she says, lifting the shield in her hands. "Pretty light, too. Our mentors are telling us there's something – or someone – out there we have to be careful of. Something that'll kill us if we're not careful – and not well protected. This was probably cheaper than delivering three suits of armor, although I bet this nearly exhausted our sponsorship money."

"Psh," Mako dismisses. "I'll take it, but I ain't afraid of Crystal and her goons."

He may not understand it, but I do – and Autumn's right. Crystal and the volunteer band will likely try to attack us openly if they do, considering they're not the brightest people and pride strength over anything else. But they're hardly the only danger…and I'm guessing Selene, Omaha, and whoever from District 7 and 4 are working with them are cautioning us over someone else; someone far more dangerous and tactically brilliant.

Tethys. She's on the prowl, and I'm suddenly convinced the timing's no coincidence: Odds are she killed Ames, giving my dead district partner neither warning nor the chance to fight back.

Mako moves through building the raft faster than I would have imagined, finishing the thing before the sun even sets. Autumn and I work on a pair of crude bamboo paddles to keep us on course, and as the sun sets below the horizon, we've got a craft that looks much sturdier – and practical – than I would have dreamed we'd make.

"Look at this," I plant my hands on my hips as I inspect the raft. "You're kinda handy, Mako."

"Yeah?" he laughs. "Well, I said that about Autumn already so looks like you're next. When are you gonna start pulling your weight around here, lazy girl?"

"I'll have to think up some kind of creative encore," I smile. "Did you plan to build this just to impress me?"

"Honestly, I thought I was pretty impressive already," he shrugs with a smirk. "But being serious, let's wait out the night and cross the bay tomorrow morning. It's a straight shot from here, and I doubt it'll take more than a few –"

A series of shouts and screams cut him off. We both look up as Autumn bolts up from her nap, all of our eyes trained on the trees. Something – or someone – is nearby and hunting a tribute. I grab my sword as Mako takes the spear and shield, his knees already bent to counter the unseen force.

"If it's another mutt," he tells me quietly, nodding for Autumn to close in behind me. "Stay back and let me gore it. I'll funnel it right into my spear."

"What about the shouting?"

"He or she is probably dead by now…or wishes they were. Stay ready. Autumn – you're unarmed; go get the raft and our pack ready in case we need to get out of here."

But there's no cannon – not yet. Instead the bamboo leaves rustle at the treeline, something slowly crawling out from the underbrush. It's not a mutt, nor some other deadly predator conjured up by the Gamesmakes – it's Sumac.

Autumn's district partner crawls with both hands out of the dark forest, a trail of blood running from a grievous wound in his chest. His boyish face is contorted in pain, his skin specked with crimson flecks and his legs oozing fluid onto the sand. He's only got minutes left to survive.

"Sumac!" Autumn cries out from the raft.

"Auta," he groans, his breath coming in pained huffs. "No – dun come closa."

Mako backs away from the injured boy, his spear aimed just under the lip of the shield in defense. He was wrong, however. There are no mutts.

Just tributes.

Crystal strides out from the underbrush, her long hair flowing like a wave behind her. In her hand is a cruel curved blade, blood stained on its silver edge. Her eyes light up when she spots us.

"Well well," she remarks, licking her lip. "The night just got a whole lot more fun. Boys, time to come out; we don't have to share anymore. Everybody gets a turn tonight."