Sve Oxenstierna, District 11

I'm still sitting silently. It's been a while. Maybe a few days. I couldn't say. Rain has fallen. The thickness of the limbs above me kept me quite dry. Natalya, too.

I find myself turning to look at her. She's still lying there on the roots. Her knife is still in her hand. Her eyes are still closed. I wouldn't expect that to change. Not since her cannon fired.

It was only a few minutes ago. After many other cannons. I wouldn't have known she was dead if a hovercraft didn't try to pick her up. It couldn't get through the branches. So she's still there. Maybe I'm expected to move her. I don't see why. I don't think it matters much where she is. There's nothing more for her to do.

When I look at her, I can feel the faintest throb of some other feeling besides my ever-present depression. I can't place it. Maybe guilt. I was here the whole time. I could have given her water the first time her eyes went too dry for her to keep them open. But I didn't. I could have gotten her something to drink from the torrential rainfall and put it to her lips to take in slowly. But I didn't.

Even if that's the feeling, it's so vague. I can't really say I'm regretful. Another life gone. What does it matter? You can only see so much death before it loses its effect on you.

And I'm starting to think I wouldn't have cared in the first place. None of these lives mattered to me. I was prepared to take them all for her. And I did kill one, that Wiremu. Even now, I can't say I've thought twice about destroying him. I just don't feel anything toward it. It was just a chore to be done. Something unimportant to get out of the way.

I guess that's how I feel about all of them. Just lives. They aren't much on their own. Not much added up, either. This is how the Capitol thinks. This is how it is. A life is as important as you believe it to be. And if you don't believe it's important, it's not.

The only life I ever really thought was significant was hers. And now it's gone. Everything important is gone.

Yet I remain.

Rome Gnaeus, District 1

I pull myself into the meadow crater as Ania circles the border for a clean-looking puddle. Finally locating one, she kneels down and starts to wash out her wound, hissing in pain.

I pause in my path to the Cornucopia to watch. As she clears away the mixture of dried and fresh blood, I can see that, on top of the scratches from the hammer's claw, her nose is positively dented in the middle.

I shudder a little. If that had gone to my skull like it was intended to, I wouldn't still be here.

"I guess I should thank you for that, huh?" I start with a grin, padding back over to where Ania scrubs off the last of the rust-coloured stuff from her face.

"No need," she responds, dabbing the water away with her jacket sleeve. "Remember the first time we met, that hit you took for me? Well, we're finally even."

"That's true…" Behind her, I draw a little closer, leaning to rest my chin on her shoulder. "But you and I both know you did it because you love me."

"Heck no," she spits, pulling her shoulder out from under me. She shakes her head and starts back toward the meadow.

I clamber after her. "Oh, come on, Ania!" I beg as we go over the wall. "There's no need to deny your feelings any longer!"

"What feelings?" she grumbles, landing on the grass and stepping over the bushes.

"You know what I mean," I coo, walking my fingers up her arm before she abruptly shoves me away. "Ania…"

She just crosses her arms—a bit awkward since her sheath got dented in the rockfall and she has to hold her sword—and shakes her head. "Rome, just shut up so we can tend to your stupid wrist."

"Okay, okay," I sigh, holding my arms up as we get to the mouth of the Cornucopia. While the vast majority of the supplies are long gone, I can still see a wrist support-whatchamacallit near the back.

"What are you waiting for?" Ania grumbles, nudging me with her knee toward the thing.

"All right, all right! A little pushy today, are we, Ania?" I duck down to enter the horn.

Ania scoffs. "I don't see how screwing around would do any good."

"Aw, I bet you're just upset from your injuries," I respond, reaching my uninjured hand for the wrapped-up wrist brace. "But that's understandable. No one's perfect." Deciding not to inform her that I, however, am pretty close, I lean a little further to get the package.

And then there's suddenly a sword sticking out of my chest.

I stare uncomprehending at the blood gushing out from my ruptured heart as the blade is slid back out of my ribs. It takes another second for the pain to register, but once it does, I immediately collapse on the inside curve of the Cornucopia. I end up sliding to the bottom after my blood gathers beneath me.

Here, lying on my back, I can see Ania looking down at me coldly, her sword glinting in the sunlight.

"A-Ania…" I choke out, unable to make my lungs work properly enough to form more words.

My district partner just shakes her head. "I always had to respect you for taking that hit for me. But from the very beginning, I have always hated—your—guts." She kicks me hard in the stomach, knocking the breath out of me, and I can't seem to keep breathing in.

"Go die, pig," she finishes solidly before turning and walking away from me.

I don't have much of a choice but to obey.

Eston von Bock, District 7

So many cannons have fired today that even Amer is quick to look up when the anthem starts. The faces flash up within seconds.

First is Rome. Another Career gone. Next up are the threes. The boy from 5 with the huge eyebrows is there, followed shortly by the 6 who was always buzzing after him. Next is the creepy girl from 9. Her livid glare at the camera, and at us for outlasting her, is the last thing to decorate the sky until the seal of Panem returns.

6 people. That's more than the bloodbath. I have to wonder what happened, but once I realise I'm imagining people's deaths, I stop. There's nothing wrong with being curious, but the least I can do for these tributes is not kill them all over again within the confines of my brain.

As the sky returns to its ghoulish shade of empty black, I turn my attention back to the ground. Raivis is rolling a small rock around in his hands, while Amer is squinting across the empty crater tiredly. Amer's still wary of looking Raivis in the eye, but at least the 12 isn't squeaking or stammering in terror anymore when Amer addresses him. At the sound of the 10's voice, Raivis's tremors creep back in, but it's easy to tell that's beyond his control. He's trying. He's still an intimidated, tortured wreck, but he's trying.

"Who wants first watch, then?" I start, knowing I'll end up taking it but not liking the tense silence.

"I... can try," Amer volunteers weakly, straining to keep his eyelids from falling.

"Still not the best idea," I inform him. He understands but is still downcast about it. "You can start once you're rested up enough, okay?"

" 'Kay," he mumbles, upset but too sleepy to fight about it. He slumps sideways at the crater wall, and he's snoring within a minute.

Raivis keeps silently toying with the pebble; it's a bit harder for him now since he's back to trembling. Not to mention he jumps a little whenever Amer accidentally snores a little too suddenly and loudly. I'm pretty sure that little bundle of nerves isn't going to fall asleep any time soon. Maybe he should take watch instead?

Wait... Did he get any sleep last night? He was always awake when I was, and it certainly didn't look like he moved a centimetre the whole time.

I look over at him now. Even in the moonlight, and at the angle he's facing me, I can make out the bags under his eyes.

"You should get some sleep." I consider adding that he doesn't look that healthy, but at this point I'm sure he'd think I mean he has smallpox or something.

Raivis looks at me blankly for a second before returning to his humdrum game with the stone. "Probably," he says quietly.

"Why don't you get some, then?"

He reflexively glances at Amer. Upon realising this, he cringes in shame and looks back away. "I-I don't know," he mumbles, passing the pebble between his hands. "I-I-I... I just can't." Catching the rock in his right hand, he sighs and slumps over, crossing his arms and putting his forehead to his upward-pointing knees.

"That's okay." I move closer to put a hand on his back. As always, he jerks before relaxing a little. "No one expects you to recover immediately. You want to go ahead and take watch?" I briefly register this as a bad idea, considering it looks like he fabricated all of the tributes this morning, but shake my head. He's not going to get to sleep, and I need to. The lesser of two evils, I guess.

"Yeah, I'll take it," he responds quietly.

"Thanks." I move to give him a little space before I fall asleep.