Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or The Hunger Games.

Note: My apologies for the somewhat lumpy updating schedule during June. Family stuff happened, but no camping trips are planned for July, and I'll be doing Camp NaNoWriMo, so hopefully that'll give me the kick in the pants I need to get going more on this.

A Rare Thing

Francine Temple, 42
March 21st, 08:40 AKST

She had barely slept all night.

Francine stretched a little, squinting at the screens as the sun continued to creep over the horizon, reflecting off the layer of new-fallen snow. All across the island, the contestants were waking up. Surveying their surroundings. Getting their bearings.

Monet and Penelope had set up camp on the southern tip of the island, and, ever since Ky's attack, hadn't had any trouble. And even Ky's attack hadn't proven to be much trouble for Penelope to handle. Judah had been rather tight-lipped around her about what sort of program, exactly, Penelope had been involved in, but whatever it was, her training seemed to have paid off.

Even most of the contestants without any experience, though, seemed to be doing pretty well. Since Ryden's death, Parker and Clara had managed to avoid trouble, and Victoria and John had been too focused on getting up the mountain they'd found to even think about looking for anyone else. A little to the north of the mountain, Akil and Piper had finally settled down for the night after putting some distance between them and the boy she'd killed.

The boy she'd killed. Isadore. At the lake, Ben, Cassidy, and Natasha were waking up, completely unaware that Isadore, too, was now dead. Francine shook her head. Maybe they would be safe for a while. The only other contestants in the area were Hadley and Rosalind, and it seemed unlikely that they would want to head back to the lake.

Unless, of course, they needed water. That was what Mack was probably going to try to frame the fight as – a skirmish over water. Just like animals. Fighting over food and water. Defending their territory. It wouldn't be hard for him to make it look like that was what was happening.

And, to some extent, that was what was happening. Cyrene and her clones certainly seemed to be guarding their lake, ready for anyone who happened to come along looking for a drink. Fortunately for her, most of the other contestants were a good distance away. And Reese and Simon, who were the closest, were heading in the opposite direction.

At least they seemed to have some direction. Ever since leaving the lake, Austin, Verona, and Jayden had been content to wander rather aimlessly. So far, though, it seemed to have worked, and Snowball had been able to keep them away from the other contestants. Taylor and Terry had passed close to them a while ago, but were now heading towards the northern lake, where Cameron was still trying to wake Tariq. Once they reached the lake…

Then what? Would they really attack Cameron and Tariq? Would they offer to share the lake? A day ago, she would have found it hard to imagine the contestants killing each other over a little water. But now…

Now some of them had done exactly that. And some had killed each other for less. Francine closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. It wasn't their fault. If they hadn't been told this was a fight to the death, none of them would have considered harming the others. They were only doing what anyone would do in their position. Exactly what she would do if she were in their place.

But it didn't matter. It didn't matter that a group of human teens – or even adults – would almost certainly behave exactly the same. It didn't matter to the rest of the MAAB, and it wouldn't matter to the audience. To the country. It wasn't fair. But it wasn't going to change.

Not without a lot of work.

Cameron Mercer, 14

Dragging Tariq away from the lake was a lot of work.

Cameron took a deep breath and pulled again. Then pushed. He'd managed to move Tariq a few yards so far, but it didn't take a genius to figure out it wasn't going to do much good. There was now a clear trail leading away from the lake, even if the terrain wasn't flat enough to see them clearly. But he kept pulling, because it felt better than doing nothing.

At least the effort was keeping him warm, even if it did nothing to hide them. But what good was being warm going to be if someone found them? Dying warm and sweating was just as bad as dying cold and shivering. He would still be just as dead if—

Then he saw them. Off in the distance, but still clear against the early morning sky. Two contestants, headed towards the lake. Cameron tensed, completely motionless by Tariq's side. What was he supposed to do now? If he could see them, they could certainly see him – and Tariq. It was only a matter of time before they arrived.

Think. Just think. He couldn't just leave Tariq. But he didn't want to fight. And he certainly didn't want to die. Cameron gave Tariq one more shake, his eyes wet with tears. Cameron wiped them away with his sleeve. Now wasn't the time to cry.

Unless…

Cameron bent over Tariq, letting his tears flow freely, pretending to ignore the figures approaching. With any luck, the pair of them had no idea what Tariq's power was. With any luck, they would think he was already dead. All he had to do was let them get close enough to see that he was crying. And then…

Closer. A little closer. At last, Cameron looked up, pretending to notice them for the first time. He sprang to his feet, slung both their backpacks over his shoulders, and bolted in the opposite direction, not daring to look back. If they caught him looking back, after all, they might find it suspicious that he was concerned about the fate of a corpse. The best thing he could do for Tariq was leave him.

He'll be fine. Cameron clenched his fists as he ran, heading back in the direction of the spot where he and Tariq had first landed on the island. Tariq would be fine. After all, his own family had been fooled into thinking he was dead. He hadn't meant to do that, of course, but he also hadn't meant to slip into a trance in the middle of the Games.

Had he?

Maybe he had. Maybe he'd thought that would be a good way to pass the time. Maybe he had thought a painless death – one he wasn't conscious for – was better than being awake.

Stop it. He's not going to die. After a little while, he could return to the lake. The others might be gone by then. Maybe they would assume that whoever had killed Tariq was still around. Maybe they would have the sense to find somewhere more protected to stay. Maybe.

Right now, 'maybe' was all he had.

Taylor Adams, 18

Maybe the other one was already dead.

Taylor glanced over at Terry as the pair of them ventured closer. The younger boy had run off too quickly for them to catch him, even if they wanted to. Right now, she was more interested in the lake. Where there was a lake, there might be fish – which was good because they were out of their jerky. The other boy didn't seem to be moving. Sleeping? Injured? Already dead? She wasn't sure.

But Terry seemed more interested in the boy than the lake, quietly making his way closer and closer to the body. Or, at least, she hoped it was just a body. Hoped that it wasn't a trap – that the boy wouldn't suddenly jump up and attack. "Wait," Taylor hissed. "What if he's not dead?"

Terry stopped in his tracks. "You think it's a trap?"

"Could be."

"Shit. And we walked right into it." She could see a bone already sticking out through the skin of his arm. Whether he had done that intentionally or whether it was his body reacting to his panic, she wasn't sure. Either way, he didn't seem to have much control as it grew longer and more pointed.

"Maybe he's already dead," Taylor offered.

"What if he's not?" The bone was longer now – almost long enough to be a spear. "We should make sure."

Make sure. "You're going to kill him?"

Terry's face was pale. "Not if he's already dead."

He had a point. Taylor hesitated a moment, then nodded. If the boy was already dead, what Terry was about to do wouldn't harm him. And if he wasn't…

If he wasn't, the only explanation was that this was a trap. He didn't appear injured. If he was sleeping, surely the other boy could have simply woken him before running. And he had appeared to be crying. If this was a trap, it was a good one. But wouldn't the boy have done something by now if he really was awake to hear them talking about killing him? No, he was probably dead.

He was almost certainly dead.

Taylor clenched her teeth, trying not to look away as Terry's spear-like bone stabbed through the boy's chest. Once. Twice. He didn't move. Blood began to seep out of the wounds, but that was normal. Wasn't it? Even if he was already dead, blood would still come out.

Slowly, the bone slid back into Terry's skin – all except the end, which was still coated in blood. Terry quickly made his way to the lake and dipped the bone in, washing it clean. "Well," Terry muttered. "If he wasn't dead before, he is now."

Taylor nodded. That was certainly true. They didn't have to worry about a trap anymore – unless the younger boy came back, which seemed unlikely. More likely, there had never been a trap at all, and they had interrupted the boy in the middle of mourning his friend. At least, she hoped that was the case. If not…

If not, Terry had just killed someone. Another contestant. Another mutant. Another person. But that was what they would both have to do, eventually, if they wanted to go home. The boy would have had to die eventually.

She just hoped Terry hadn't killed him.

Taylor shook her head, staring out at the lake. Unless she won, she might never know. Even then, she wasn't sure she would get the truth – not since the MAAB planned to manipulate the footage to their liking. She might never know the truth about what happened in the Games, beyond what she saw personally.

Maybe it was better that way.

Tariq Qasim, 22

Maybe it was better this way.

Tariq glanced this way and that, the fog shifting around the dreamland as he and Diana searched. From what little they knew, they didn't really have any idea whether they were getting closer to finding Erik. But, somehow, it felt as though they were making progress. And this certainly seemed like a better use of his time than trying to make a fishing net.

Not that making a net had been a particularly bad idea. It was just that making a net was only going to help them catch fish. Was only going to help them survive. If he and Diana could find this Erik – and if he could help them – they might be able to help everyone who was still alive on the island. They might be able to stop the Games. And that could save hundreds – maybe even thousands – of lives.

First things first. They still had to find him. Tariq gripped Diana's hand as they flew back and forth, this way and that, through crowds of people and patches of open space. All dreaming. He had to be somewhere.

Technically, of course, he didn't have to be. He could be awake. But something in his gut told him otherwise. There was a reason he was here – a reason he had found Diana. They were meant to do this together.

Suddenly, it hit him. Pain. Deep in his chest, working its way out. His grip on Diana's hand slipped, and suddenly he was falling. He landed on something soft, Diana at his side in an instant. "Are you all right?"

No. No, he wasn't all right. His chest felt as if it were on fire. "Maybe you should wake up." Diana's voice was shaky. "What if something's happening?"

Tariq shook his head. If it hurt this much, something wasn't happening. It had already happened. And there was nothing he could do. Nothing except hope that they could find Erik before…

"Look!" He staggered to his feet, staring around him in the fog. But the fog was clearing. People were running through the streets – streets that were suddenly strewn with broken buildings and flames. Tariq slipped his hand into Diana's. The pain must have brought the memory back.

Diana squeezed his hand. "I can try to change—"

"No. No, there's a reason this is what appeared. He's here somewhere." But why would Erik be here? These were his memories. The streets in Syria that he'd walked as a child, now torn and burning and littered with blood and bodies. The shouts were in his language. Women and children.

Children. Through the smoke, he could hear a child's voice. "Mama!"

"This way." Tariq pulled Diana forward, fighting the pain in his chest. Just a little farther. The buildings were changing. The people were still running, screaming, crying. But these were no longer his streets, his language, his time. Their clothes looked older. And the language…

"Mama!" A boy was standing in the street, crying, his arms reaching out for a mother who was no longer there.

Tariq stumbled forward, Diana at his side. The boy saw them and turned to run, but Tariq reached out and caught hold of his wrist. "Wait. Please, wait." As he did, though, another wave of pain struck him, and Tariq fell to his knees, clutching his chest.

"Who are you?" But the voice was no longer a child's. Tariq looked up, and, in the boy's place, he saw a man. Everything else had faded – the buildings, the people, the screams. Tariq's vision was growing blurry, but he could still see the man's face as he knelt down, laying a hand on Tariq's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Tariq gripped the man's hand tightly, fighting desperately to hold on – just a little longer. "Are you Erik? Erik Lehnsherr?"

"Yes."

Tariq smiled a little as he slumped to the ground, Erik's hands steadying him a little. "Then yes. Yes, I'm all right. I think my part is … is over."

Then everything went dark.

Cassidy Cruze, 16

Everything seemed so much clearer now.

Cassidy took a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling her lungs as she stared out at the lake. The rising sun reflected off the thin layer of ice that now laced the surface of the water. It was almost beautiful.

No. No, the water was beautiful. It wasn't the water's fault that the MAAB had chosen this island as their arena. The water could still be beautiful. The sunrise could still be beautiful. The island could still be beautiful, despite the ugliness that had been forced upon it.

The ugliness they had brought.

Cassidy glanced over at Ben and Natasha, who were slowly rolling over and opening their packs to retrieve some of their food. They'd left the fish out in the open, assuming the freezing temperatures would keep it fresh. Together, the three of them finished off what remained of her own peanuts and Juliska's fig bars, but none of them touched Isadore's cookies, or even his pack. What if he came back? What would he think if they simply rummaged through his food while he was gone?

It would be different if they were starving. If his food was their only option. But it wasn't. He'd given his map of the island to Ben the day before, and Ben was already beginning to unfold it. Already considering what their next move should be.

Cassidy quickly joined him. He had the right idea. There wasn't anything to be gained by staying here – not permanently. They could store their supplies here, maybe. Between the three of them, they could find a good hiding spot, and she could cover it in snow. But simply waiting here to be attacked again – that didn't sound good. They needed a goal, or they would simply sit here reevaluating everything that had already gone wrong. And it wouldn't do any of them any good to focus on that.

Especially her.

Cassidy clenched her fists. That was what her coach had always told her. Evaluate what went wrong – but then move on. Don't dwell on it. But a mistake while she was surfing had never cost anyone their life. Juliska was dead. Isadore had left. Only she, Ben, and Natasha were left together.

They couldn't afford to make any more mistakes.

So what had been their mistake the day before? Maybe it had been waiting. Assuming that someone would simply walk into their trap. They couldn't simply wait around for someone to come to them. Maybe things would go better if they found someone else. If they had a say in who they fought – and who they avoided. Maybe that was the answer.

Ben seemed to have come to the same conclusion. "The two who were hiding under the lake ran this way, I think." He pointed inland and to the north of the lake on the map. "We obviously don't want to run into them again. Isadore went this way."

"Maybe we should follow him," Natasha suggested.

Cassidy shook her head. "If he wants to come back, he will. If not … I don't think chasing after him will do any good. He already has too much of a head start."

Ben nodded his agreement. "I think we should head for the coast. At least that way, we'll be near water, even if we leave the lakes. We could follow the coast in either direction, but maybe if we head towards the mountain over here…"

Cassidy looked where he was pointing on the map, then up into the distance. At the mountain they'd decided to avoid the day before, heading for the lake instead. Ben had suggested then that the mountain might draw attention from the other contestants, but would the other contestants head for the mountain, or would they want to avoid it?

And which scenario would be better for them?

Either way, sticking to the coast seemed like a good plan. If push came to shove, she could use the water in the ocean as either a weapon or as cover. Then again, they'd thought the same thing about the lake. They couldn't necessarily assume that the water would be enough to protect them.

It took Cassidy a moment to realize Ben was watching her. Waiting for her input. But why was it up to her? It had been her decision to stay and fight at the lake, rather than leaving. And that had been a disaster. But maybe that was why he was offering her the choice. He was giving her a chance to redeem herself. A chance to fix her mistake.

Nothing would ever really fix it, of course. No choice she made now would bring Juliska back. But maybe she could protect the rest of her group. "Let's head away from the mountain," she decided. "Anyone who already climbed it would be able to see us coming; we'd lose whatever element of surprise we might have on level ground. We need every advantage we can get."

Now that two of us are gone. She didn't say the words, but Ben seemed to have heard them, nonetheless. He nodded. "Away from the mountain it is. Let's find a good place to hide some of our supplies. We should only bring what we think we'll need. We don't want to make ourselves a tempting target."

A tempting target. Would someone really attack the three of them, even in the hope of finding extra food? The backpacks all seemed to have either food or water in them. Surely no one would be that desperate yet.

Still, it was better to be safe. They quickly packed most of the fish into one of the backpacks, taking only a few along in one of the others. They filled their two bottles with water from the lake, hid the backpack under some snow, and set out.

She just hoped she'd made the right choice.

John Knox, 21

He just hoped they'd made the right choice.

John yawned a little, stretching in the early morning light. He and Victoria had made it safely through the night. Now that he thought about it, though, that wasn't particularly surprising. Why would anyone want to climb a mountain in a snowstorm at night?

Why had they wanted to climb a mountain at all?

John shook his head. He couldn't quite remember why it had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now that they were halfway up the mountain, they might as well keep going. Once they reached the top, they could figure out where to go from there.

He just hoped they could find some sort of food soon. The snow meant that at least they wouldn't die of thirst, but their raisins and crackers would only last so long. He hadn't seen any plants since they'd begun to climb higher, and there didn't appear to be many animals. Maybe they'd be able to see more from the top, but the mountain seemed to be covered in rocks.

Maybe there was a reason no one else was climbing it.

John shook the thought from his head. If they didn't find anything at the top of the mountain, they could always head back down again. They didn't have anything to lose but time. And hiking down the mountain would certainly be quicker than their trek up. John glanced over at Victoria, who was still sleeping soundly. They'd traded watches a couple times during the night, but, at some point, both of them must have fallen asleep.

John stretched his arms. No harm done. They were both alive – and now they would both be well-rested. They could set out again whenever they wanted; they could afford to take their time.

Victoria rolled over a little, opening her eyes. "Everything all right?"

John shrugged. "We're still alive. Bit of snow during the night, but no sign of anyone else."

"Good." But there was something else in her voice. Disappointment, almost. Had she been expecting someone to find them?

Had she been hoping someone would find them?

No. No, that was ridiculous. Why would Victoria be looking for a fight? She didn't have any reason to want to attack any of the other contestants. That was why they had decided to climb the mountain in the first place, wasn't it? Because the others probably wouldn't want to. Certainly all but the strongest contestants would avoid climbing a mountain.

Oh.

But that didn't make any sense. If one of the stronger contestants found them, that might not end well – for either of them. Sure, he could turn into a bear, but compared to some of the others' powers – especially ones that could be used from a distance – that might not be particularly helpful. And Victoria's power seemed to have something to do with persuasion. She'd simply told Ryden to relax, and he had. But she'd needed to get close. She'd needed to touch him. Her powers wouldn't do any good against someone who could strike at them from a distance.

And neither would his.

Austin Vonley, 13

Staying in one place wasn't going to do them any good.

Austin slowly crawled out from under their tarp, careful not to wake the others. Not yet. They could afford to sleep a little longer, but he felt better keeping watch. If he saw someone coming, they could gather up their supplies and leave. Keep running, like they'd been doing since landing on the island.

But what else were they supposed to do? If they stayed in one place too long, someone might find them. Then again, the same was true now that there was a layer – however thin – of fallen snow on the ground. Wherever they went, they would leave tracks – tracks that any of the other contestants could use to find them.

Of course, the reverse was also true. They would be able to see the other contestants' tracks. Maybe that would help them avoid the others. Austin glanced around in the early morning light. The only tracks so far belonged to Snowball, who clearly didn't mind the cold or the snow. Tracks leading away, tracks leading back, and then away again. Maybe the fox didn't like the idea of staying put any more than he did.

Jayden and Verona were stirring by the time Snowball returned, something clenched firmly in her jaws. Austin took a step back as the fox dumped it at his feet. Verona knelt down, examining what Austin could now see was some sort of dead animal. Three dead animals, actually – small and furry. Almost like mice, but a little bigger. Verona stroked Snowball's head. "Good girl." Then she handed one of the creatures to Austin. "Breakfast, I guess."

Austin couldn't help a shudder as he took the creature by the tail. Were they supposed to eat them raw? But Verona was already retrieving the knife they'd been sent the night before. This probably wasn't what whoever had sent it had intended, but it was something. Austin held the third rodent out to Jayden. "One for each of us, I guess."

But Jayden backed away a little. "I'm—"

"A vegetarian," Austin finished. "Yeah, I noticed during training."

"Vegan," Jayden corrected. "Ever since I visited a slaughterhouse and … and I could hear the animals in my mind. You have no idea how that … how that feels. I just couldn't…"

Austin nodded. "Look, I get it. But if this is all we have—"

"We still have some raisins and nuts left," Verona interrupted, opening her pack and handing what remained of her nuts to Jayden. "You can have those for now, if you like, and later, if you decide you want a mouse—"

"Vole."

"Whatever. I'm sure Snowball can manage to find some more."

Jayden nodded. "Thanks."

Verona shrugged. "Don't thank me. You're the reason we have a fox as a friend in the first place." She carefully slipped the knife into the vole, starting to peel away some of the skin. Austin looked away. Were the animals safe to eat raw? Should they try to cook it first? Maybe, but would they be able to start a fire?

Did Verona really know what she was doing?

Verona Diaz-Kamden, 13

She had no idea what she was doing.

Verona did her best to ignore the churning in her stomach as she sliced deeper into the vole, cutting away the fur and skin. There wasn't much meat, but there was blood. More blood than she would have guessed would come from such a tiny creature. It was already all over her hands, dripping onto her clothes. But it was too late to stop now. The others already thought she knew what she was doing. That she was convinced the animal was safe to eat.

It was almost funny, now that she thought about it. They didn't care that she'd grown up in the city. That she'd never been hunting or even fishing. That the only place she'd seen animals like this was scurrying around in the basement. For whatever reason, they'd decided she knew what she was doing.

No. No, they hadn't decided that. She had. Because someone had to. Someone had to look like they knew what they were doing, and no one else seemed to want the role. Verona wiped away some more of the blood before sinking her teeth into the vole and taking a bite. She chewed. Swallowed. Spat out some of the blood. It didn't taste good, but it was something. It would keep them from starving.

"Maybe we can figure out how to build a fire later," Austin suggested, taking the knife when she offered it and beginning to slice up his vole. Verona nodded, but she already knew it was a pointless suggestion. Even if they managed to find something that would burn – which seemed unlikely, since they hadn't found anything more than a few small shrubs the entire day before – it would almost certainly be damp. And they had no way to light anything. No way to keep a flame going in the snow even if they managed to light a fire.

But saying so would be just as pointless. Most likely, Austin knew exactly how silly the suggestion was. He was probably just trying to say something. Anything that might sound good. But he might as well have suggested that there might be a McDonald's around the next corner.

Verona took another bite, a tiny bone crunching between her teeth. At least they had Snowball to help them hunt. Catching the voles would have been much more difficult on their own. And if the voles were the largest prey available on the island, finding food was going to be a full-time job.

Maybe that was a good thing, though. If finding food was difficult, that meant that the other contestants wouldn't be able to find it easily, either. If the rest of the island was as barren as the parts they'd explored – a little grass, a little moss, patches of shrubbery here and there – then the others would have just as hard a time finding food. Maybe more, since they didn't have a fox on their side. Maybe the lack of food actually gave them an advantage.

That certainly wasn't something she'd expected.

Monet Amit, 23

They hadn't really expected to feel safe in the arena.

Monet rolled over, smiling a little as they crawled out from underneath their parachute. They and Penelope had traded watches throughout the night, and gotten about as much sleep as they could hope to. The snow had finally stopped, and the wind had died down during the night. Maybe things weren't so bad.

A glance at the body in the distance, however, was enough to bring the reality of the Games back. The body of the boy who had attacked them still lay where they had left it. A reminder that, even now, they weren't completely safe. But, as strange as it felt to trust a twelve-year-old with their life, Monet couldn't shake the feeling that this was the safest place to be in the Games.

Penelope, meanwhile, was already rummaging through their backpacks, retrieving what was left of their food. It wasn't much – a little of their crackers and granola bars. They'd finished the dried apples the night before. "We'll have to see if we can find more food soon," Penelope pointed out.

Monet nodded. "What about the ocean? If we can find a way to catch some fish, that might last a while."

Penelope nodded. "That sounds like a good plan. But we'll have to be careful. If we get too wet…" She let the words hang in the air. Wet and cold wasn't a good combination. If they got too wet, they could die. But maybe the fact that it was so cold now was a good thing. Maybe that meant the other contestants would play it safe and avoid the water.

Maybe they had the right idea.

But it was too late to back out now. Going fishing had been their suggestion. Penelope was already moving closer to the cliff, as if trying to decide where the best spot would be to jump down. She'd made it down safely before using her powers, but it would be best not to land in the water. Maybe there was some place with a bit of shoreline below…

"There." Penelope pointed off to the right. "That looks almost like a beach. Let's head that way and see about breakfast."

Breakfast. Fish for breakfast. Monet nodded. That didn't sound so bad. Right now, it certainly sounded better than crackers and granola bars. But how was Penelope planning on catching fish? Maybe they could make a net out of one of their parachutes. But how would they use it without getting wet themselves? Would there even be fish in the shallow water when it was this cold?

Stop it. The MAAB wouldn't have chosen this island as their arena if there was no way to get food. They wanted the contestants to kill each other, after all, not starve to death. They would find some food. They would eat breakfast. And then they would figure out what to do next.

Monet followed Penelope along the edge of the cliff. If nothing else, it was a good excuse to get away from the boy's body. He was dead – they were sure of that – but the body still made them uneasy. It was a reminder of the reason they were there. The fact that only one of them was going to make it out of the arena alive. And the fact that they felt safe around Penelope … well, that wouldn't help if they were the only two left.

But that was a long way away.

Clara Seville, 19

She could only hope the other contestants were a long way away.

Clara glanced over at Parker, who was still sleeping soundly despite the cold. They'd traded shifts a few times during the night, but this was the first time Parker had seemed to actually be fast asleep. Neither of them had been able to sleep for a long time after the cracking noise they'd heard in the distance. But, finally, she'd been too tired to worry about what might be out there, and, apparently, Parker had eventually come to the same conclusion.

And they were still alive.

Clara shook her head as she glanced around at the snow. One day in the arena, and they were still alive. But was that really much to be celebrating? Ryden was dead, yes, but how many others? How many of the other contestants were still alive? They had no way of knowing. No way to tell exactly how far along the Games were. And if they didn't know that, there was no way they could guess how much longer they might have to survive.

So they needed to find food. They still had a few fig bars and two cookies left, but those wouldn't last them long. Her stomach was already starting to protest the meager rations they'd allowed themselves the day before. After Ryden's death, she hadn't really wanted to think about eating. But now … now it was all starting to catch up to her. Chances were, when Parker woke, she'd agree. Finding food needed to be their first priority.

Especially now that they had water. Well, they had snow. But that was close enough. Clara scooped up some of the snow and pressed it to her lips. The snow melted quickly in her hands. Maybe it wasn't a very efficient way to drink, but it was something. They wouldn't die of thirst as long as they had plenty of snow.

Clara couldn't help a chuckle. She hadn't really imagined they would end up being grateful for snow. Then again, a few days ago, she wouldn't have imagined any of this. She would never have guessed she would be trapped in an island death match with twenty-nine other mutants.

No. No, not that many. Not anymore. Exactly how many were dead, she didn't know, but it was at least a few. Maybe more. Whatever their chances were now, they were better than they had been the day before.

Clara shook her head. Their chances weren't better. Her chances were better. Because, in the end, her chances were what mattered. Parker wasn't going to survive this. Couldn't survive this, if Clara wanted to go home. Parker would have to die.

Clara glanced away from the parachute. Away from her friend. Parker didn't have to die yet. But even thinking about it – about the possibility of her friend's death – made Clara cringe. Ryden was already dead, and that was bad enough. Losing Parker, too … could she really handle that?

But the alternative was worse. Thinking about her own death … No, that wasn't something she wanted, either. And given the choice between her life and Parker's…

But that wasn't a choice she had to make. Not yet. Chances were, it wasn't a choice she would ever have to make. What were the odds that the Games would come down to her and Parker?

If they did, though, Clara knew, it wouldn't be much of a fight. Parker could sense and influence people's emotions. That wasn't going to do her much good in a fight – not against someone who could take control of her body. Maybe emotions could make a person want to fight, but it was their bodies that did the actual fighting.

That was a fight she would win.

Hadley Cadolyn, 17

This was a fight he could win.

Hadley took a deep breath, concentrating as hard as he could on the ground below him. The snow flew as the ground shifted this way and that, rising and falling as if the earth itself was breathing. Something scurried out of its burrow, terrified – right into Rosalind's hands. "I got it!" Rosalind called, grinning. "I got one!"

Hadley grinned, and the ground began to settle a little. They'd already finished their cookies and granola bars, and, not wanting to return to the lake, had decided to see if there was anything to eat underground. The creature in Rosalind's hands was small but plump. And it was certainly better than nothing.

The creature gave a high-pitched squeal, squirming in Rosalind's grasp. "Shh," Rosalind whispered, squeezing, and, almost immediately, the creature went silent. Hadley took a step closer as Rosalind squeezed harder. "I think … I think it's dead," she whispered.

Hadley nodded. "Nice work. Let's get a few more, and we'll have breakfast."

"So we just … eat them raw?"

Hadley smiled. "We won't have to." He reached down, and the soil around them began to bubble. Something warm was rising out of the earth. Something hot.

Rosalind gasped as she took a step back. Steam was rising from the crack in the ground, and, below it, they could see something glowing. "Did you just … make a pit of fire?"

Hadley stared. That wasn't quite what he'd meant to do. He'd only meant to make a small fire. But the heat rising from the ground was growing more intense. "I think so. Wish I'd thought of that last night."

Rosalind giggled. "Hey, at least we won't freeze now."

Hadley nodded. "Let's see if it's hot enough to cook this rat."

"Vole."

"What?"

"I think it's a vole. We used to see them when we went camping – my family and me, that is. It's a different species, but … close enough."

Hadley chuckled. "All right, then. Let's see if we can cook this vole, and then find some more." Rosalind smiled back. They weren't going to freeze. They weren't going to starve.

Hadley shook his head as another vole fled from its burrow, frightened by the sudden rise in temperature. It was quickly followed by another, and then another. Soon, they had enough for breakfast – and then some. Rosalind caught the little creatures as quickly as she could, squeezing them painlessly to death and stopping their squealing. Not a bad use of her power.

Maybe things weren't so bad, after all.

Ben Lyons, 19

Maybe they'd made the right choice, after all.

Ben glanced at Cassidy and Natasha as the three of them continued on, keeping close to the coast, avoiding the smoke in the distance. They'd noticed it a little while ago – a column of smoke rising high into the air. But it hadn't taken them long to decide not to investigate. Anyone who was that unconcerned with being spotted by the other contestants probably wasn't someone they wanted to run into.

Stick to the plan. Their plan had been to explore the coast. To stay close to the water in case they were found. Cassidy's powers would be more use closer to the water, and, if push came to shove, Natasha might be able to get them down to the shore safely. It was maybe fifteen or twenty feet down, and not as steep as it had been when they'd first reached the coast.

Ben clenched his fists as his gaze strayed once more to the smoke in the distance. There was a part of him that wanted to go, anyway. That wanted to find out who was there. Whoever it was, they could either create fire or had found some other way to start it. And finding any sort of kindling seemed unlikely in this weather. Cassidy had some matches in her backpack, but they were useless without a way to light them. He hadn't seen any trees as they'd parachuted onto the island. Maybe there was enough brush to light a fire, but surely it would all be damp from the snow.

Don't worry about it. Whoever was over there, they weren't his problem. Not unless they decided to head towards the coast, which seemed unlikely. Anyone who had found a good place to stay would probably stay put. Wouldn't they?

Then again, they weren't staying put, despite having found a good spot by the lake. They were out exploring. So what made him think that others wouldn't be? Maybe the smoke was a distraction. Maybe the other contestants were actually somewhere else entirely. It was a good plan – if it was, in fact, a plan. Or maybe they were trying to be spotted, trying to draw other contestants in, trying to lure them into a trap.

All the more reason not to go.

"You're curious, aren't you," Natasha observed. "About who might be over there."

Ben nodded. "Of course. But not curious enough to risk our lives. Whoever's over there might be trying to set a trap."

Natasha shrugged. "So were we. Didn't work out so well, did it?"

"But we weren't trying to attract people. We just happened to notice that someone was coming. If it is a trap, they've had more time to prepare. We don't want to walk into that sort of trap."

"We don't want to walk into any sort of trap," Cassidy pointed out. "But maybe … well, maybe better one we can see than one we can't."

Ben shook his head. "I don't think so. Besides, what if other contestants have the same idea? There could be two or three groups heading for that smoke right now. We don't want to get caught up in the middle of something like that."

Natasha shrugged. "So we wait."

"Exactly. We wait. Let them fight it out – if that's what's going to happen. After a while, if there's still smoke, then maybe … well, maybe go and see who's left."

Cassidy nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

Victoria Ramirez, 21

She wished she could say she had a plan.

Victoria shook her head as she and John set out again, making their way up the mountain towards … what? What did she really think she was going to find up there? It had seemed like a good idea a day ago. But a day ago, they'd had plenty of food. They had plenty of water now that there was a fresh layer of snow, but they'd just finished the last of their raisins and crackers for breakfast. It was only a matter of time before they would have to find something else.

Victoria drummed her fingers on her leg as they continued. "Maybe we should—" she started, but John was staring at something else. Something in the distance, on the other side of the mountain. Smoke, rising from … something. A fire? Did that mean there were other contestants in that direction?

Probably. A fire wouldn't simply start on its own. Not here, in the snow. So either someone was there, or they had been recently. "Maybe we should head that way," Victoria offered. It wasn't what she had been about to say, but the idea of a fire – of anything warm, really – was too good to resist. "If they've found a way to start a fire, they might have something useful."

John shrugged. "Or maybe starting fires is just what they do."

Maybe. But if that was the case, why were they only seeing smoke now? It had been cold yesterday, too. Sure, there was snow now, but that should have made it harder to start a fire. Victoria shrugged. "Can't hurt to find out."

"It might," John pointed out. "We don't know how many of them there might be. There are only two of us."

"But they don't know that."

"They will if we go that way. They'll be able to see us coming a mile away. It might be a trap. It might—"

Victoria clutched John's hand tightly, meeting his gaze. "It might be a good idea."

"It might be a good idea," John repeated. "After all, if they're lighting a fire now, maybe it means they've found food. Maybe they've found some sort of animal or something and decided to cook it."

Perfect. "Even better. I'm hungry. What about you?"

"Starving."

Not quite. They weren't quite starving. Not yet. But unless they found food soon, they might. And she had no intention of getting to that point. "Head for the fire, then?" Victoria asked with a smile.

John nodded obediently. "Let's go."

Victoria smiled as they changed course – heading along the side of the mountain rather than up it. There was no harm in finding out who had set a fire. If it turned out to be someone dangerous, they could always head the other way. Or, if push came to shove, she could instruct John to attack while she made her escape. She didn't want to – not yet. But it was always good to have a backup plan.

Maybe she knew what she was doing, after all.

Vincent Reid, 27
Coach

He had no idea what he was doing.

Vincent took a deep breath. Even the air felt different in the dreamland. Maybe it was the fact that there was no wind. Would his powers work here even if there was? Maybe. He had no way of knowing. He wasn't even sure whether or not Diana would know he was here. He and Maria had been taking turns sleeping ever since Alvin turned Ian's collar off. But whether Diana was having any luck – or whether she would be able to find him again even if she did – he had no idea.

"Ian!" A voice in the distance shook him from his thoughts. "Ian! Maria! Vincent!" Suddenly, he saw something through the fog. Two figures, approaching quickly. Almost flying. Diana and…

Vincent swallowed hard as they approached. The man beside Diana wasn't quite what he'd imagined. He'd imagined someone more frightening, perhaps. More intimidating. Someone who didn't look quite so old, quite so tired. Still, now that he was here, Vincent was absolutely certain. This was the man they'd been looking for. "Erik. Magneto. Please, we need your help."

"Who are you? What's happening?"

Vincent glanced at Diana. "You didn't tell him?"

Diana shook her head. "I got through 'teenage mutant death match' before he asked for proof, and I figured I'd see if any of you three were here. Where's Ian?"

Vincent shook his head. "Can't sleep without his collar on. You'll have to make do with me for now." He turned back to Erik. "My name's Vincent Reid. I teach … taught at Professor Xavier's school."

A hint of a smile appeared on Erik's face. "So some of you did survive. That's the best news I've had in weeks." Vincent's surprise must have shown on his face, because Erik continued. "I'm sure it's no secret that Charles and I had our differences, but I don't relish the thought of losing any of my mutant brothers and sisters, however misguided their ideals. I had hoped that some of you survived, but there have been … conflicting reports of what happened that night."

Vincent nodded. "The Sentinels attacked without warning. Some of us destroyed Cerebro and the school's records while the others fought the Sentinels off. Three of us were taken prisoner; I don't know how many others might have escaped."

"Three of you," Erik repeated. "Diana here seemed to suggest there were more."

"There are. The government collected them from all across the country, and they're being forced to participate in a fight to the death. The three of us are their … well, their coaches. There were thirty of them at the start, but now there are only twenty-two left."

"After how long?"

"A day of the Games themselves. If you're going to help us, you have to do something soon, or there won't be anyone left to save."

For a moment, Erik said nothing. Studying him, perhaps. Weighing whether he could trust what Vincent was saying. "Where are you?"

"An island, somewhere off the coast of Alaska."

"Alaska."

"Yes."

"That's not very specific."

"I'm sorry. They haven't given us many details. We do know that there are Sentinels guarding the island."

"They're expecting an attack?"

"They're being careful. They don't want anything to go wrong. They're planning to show the Games on television once they're finished. They'll use it to turn public opinion against mutants."

Erik scoffed. "Turn it? There is nothing to turn. Humans have always hated and feared us. They always will."

"Maybe you're right," Vincent admitted. "Maybe you were always right. Now isn't the time for that debate. If the Games go as planned, it could give the government the excuse they need to enact harsher laws against mutants. Fear that once simmered below the surface could explode into hatred and violence. Please … can you help us?"

"I don't know." Vincent opened his mouth to speak, but Erik held up his hand. "I don't know whether we can help. I don't know whether we'll be able to find you in time. Whether we'll be able to make it past the Sentinels even if we do. Whether any of you will be left by the time we get there. But I do know that we'll try."

"We?"

"I am not alone, either, my young friend. There are not many of us, but we will do what we can."

Diana took a step towards them. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Erik shook his head. "Thank you, my dear, for arranging this meeting. Your gift is … truly remarkable. If we arrive in time, I hope you'll be there to—"

"I'm afraid not." Diana looked away. "I'm already … I … my powers apparently still work even after I'm … dead."

Erik's gaze hardened a little. "And your friend – the one who helped you find me."

"Tariq."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Tariq was helping you?"

Diana nodded. "He disappeared. I was hoping maybe he just woke up, but—"

Vincent shook his head. "He was killed in his sleep."

Tears filled Diana's eyes as the fog seemed to grow thicker. "I should have let him wake up. He wanted to stay, but…"

Vincent laid a hand on her shoulder. "He made his choice, then. A choice that may have just saved lives." He turned to Erik. "Diana Pierri. Tariq Qasim. Remember their names."

"I will. I'll have to consult with the others, but I'll be in touch soon. Diana knows where to find me now." He fell silent for a moment, hesitating. As if there was something he wanted to ask. Something they'd both been avoiding. "You said three of you were taken prisoner, but that others may have escaped. Do you know … Did Charles survive?"

Vincent looked away, tears brimming in his eyes. "No," he whispered.

Silence. But then Vincent felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Erik beside him. "You were there."

"Yes. The three of us. We tried to protect him, but … he stopped us. He didn't want us to die trying to save him."

"No, I don't suppose he would."

"The Sentinel shot him. I saw him die – felt him die. But he told me … just before the end, he told me to find you. Find Erik. He knew you could help us. He trusted you, in the end. And that … that's good enough for me." He reached up and grasped Erik's hand. "Help us. Find us."

Erik couldn't hide a hint of a smile. "Your trust is … a rare thing."

"It's all we have right now," Vincent admitted. "It's either hope that you'll find a way to help us … or accept that twenty-nine young mutants are going to die while we can do nothing but sit here and watch. We have to hope. It's not brave. It's not noble." He shook his head.

"It's all we have left."

"He seems to genuinely want to help you. And that's a rare thing, for people like us."