A Friend

"If this is the end of me, at least I have a friend with me, weapon in my hand, a command, and my men with me."

Dina Brookfield, 15
District Three

I still can't bring myself to look back. I slowed down a while ago, but I haven't stopped. It's getting darker. Harder to see through the trees. I'm gasping for breath despite the fact that I'm barely walking – certainly not walking fast. I'm exhausted. I'm hungry. My body wants to stop.

But I can't. Because if I stop – if I'm no longer making any progress physically – then I'll have time to think. Time to remember. Time to try to come up with something – anything – I could have done to stop Rick from dying.

There's nothing, of course. Not really. Not in the end. If I want to go home, he had to die. But did he really have to die like that?

Not that there are many good ways to die, I suppose. But right now … well, right now, dying in my sleep doesn't sound so bad. There's a part of me that wants to curl up next to the nearest tree and wait for the end. Wait for someone to find me. It wouldn't take much to kill me now. After two days without food, I doubt I'd be able to put up much of a fight.

Just like Rick…

Finally, I stop. I bend over, my hands on my knees, breathing hard. Anyone who's in the area would be able to hear me gasping, but I can't help it. I had to get away.

By now, though, it's clear that no one is following me. The tributes who attacked us must have decided not to chase me. Makes sense, I suppose. They probably considered Rick the bigger threat. He was older. Stronger. He definitely seemed – at least to someone who didn't know better – to know what he was doing.

And yet I'm the one who's still alive. I'm the one who's here, while he's…

He's dead. There's no good way to put that. They killed him. Rick is dead. Lexi is dead. And I'm still here. There's a part of me that's still a bit … well, surprised by that. Eleven tributes are dead. Eleven. We're nearly halfway through the Games, and I'm still here.

I'm still here. But I have to keep moving, because if I don't find food – and soon – I won't be here for long. There has to be something in this woods that I can eat, but it's getting too dark to tell where anything is – or where I am.

Suddenly, my foot slips. "Damn it," I mutter. But then I realize why I slipped. The ground is wet. There's water. Real water, not swamp water. It's a little stream – not even a river, really – but it's something. I kneel down and dip my hands into the water, bringing some of it to my lips. It's still not food, but it's definitely a start.

Bentley Norman, 13
District Seven

I still didn't find food, but at least I found something. Water, running downhill towards the swamp. A stream, or maybe even a river. It's getting too dark to tell just how wide the water is, or how deep. But that doesn't matter right now. It's water. Water I can drink. Water that doesn't have a giant sea serpent in it.

Unless it does, of course. It's not as if I'd be able to see it if there was one. But when the serpent came to attack us in the swamp, it was because we weren't doing anything. Because we weren't being interesting enough. Finding water might not sound that exciting, but it's something. Something that'll help keep us alive.

Us. I take a deep breath as I turn back towards the others. Ada and Apollo and … and Phoebe. If they're still alive. There have only been two cannons since I left, so I know at least one of them is still alive. But how many of them?

And for how much longer?

Stop it. Instead of heading back towards the others, I follow the river for a moment. It seems to be getting deeper as I head downhill. Makes sense, I suppose, if it's heading for the marsh. It just keeps flowing downhill. Keeps going. And maybe … maybe it's time for me to do the same.

Even the thought of it makes my stomach churn. The others are counting on me to come back with news … aren't they? I never really told them where I was going. For all they know, I might be dead.

Maybe it's better if they think I am.

Because we all know that, eventually, we'll have to split up. And that 'eventually' is coming a lot sooner than I expected it to. There are only thirteen tributes left. If the four of us are all still alive, how long will it be before we have to split up, anyway? How much longer can we work together? Especially when I'm doing all the work?

Well, not all the work. Apollo came and scouted in this direction. But of the four of us, I'm the only one doing something right now to help our progress. And, unless something happened while I was gone, I'm the only one of us who has killed.

Not that it was an impressive kill. But it's more than the others have done. I finger my knife, tucked safely in my pocket. It seems strange, since I was the second-youngest in our alliance to begin with. But maybe … maybe I have the best chance, after all. And maybe I'd be better off on my own.

Ivone Eister, 17
District Twelve

Maybe I really am better off up here alone. There have been two cannons since the others left. Two more tributes who are dead. And I'm still safe up here at the top of the hill. Or, at least, as safe as I can hope to be. As safe as anyone can really expect to be in the Games.

Which is to say, not really safe at all. I keep pacing the edge of the hill. Sure, it feels safer up here, but a tribute could come along at any moment. I have to pay attention. I have to stay alert. But at least I'm not actively walking into trouble. At least I'm not out there with the others, looking for a fight.

I clutch my dagger tightly as the wind rustles through the trees farther down the hill. It's getting dark. Too dark for me to be able to see all the way down there. If someone is coming, this would be the perfect time. I can't be looking in every direction at once. And if they figure out that I'm the only one here...

The only one for now, at least. The others are coming back. When, exactly, I'm not sure, but there have only been two cannons. So at least one of them is still alive. Probably more than one. Hopefully all of them. Maybe those two cannons belonged to tributes that they found. Maybe neither of them belonged to my friends.

Allies. Allies, not friends. Because as much as I hope that they're still alive – as much as I hope that they're coming back eventually – they can't stay alive forever. Not if I want to.

Suddenly, I can hear a noise. A soft pinging, in the sky above me. The flashing light of a parachute is heading off down the hill – a little bit to the left of where it was headed last night. Could it be that it's going to the same tribute? I turn my dagger over in my hands. That doesn't seem fair.

Of course, it's not as if the four of us need anything right now. Food. Supplies. Weapons. We have everything we could want, so maybe the audience doesn't feel like they need to send us anything. Still, it would be nice to get something, if only as a recognition that we're doing a good job. That we're on the right track.

But are we? Unless those two cannons belonged to other tributes that Ra, Jayda, and Isaac found and killed, none of us have killed anyone since the very start of the Games. Maybe that's why they haven't sent anything. Maybe they're waiting for us to prove ourselves. I just hope the others are up to the task, because I'm not heading out into the forest alone in search of whoever got that parachute. Tonight – just for tonight – I can let them get lucky.

Ada Lavoisier, 17
District Five

I didn't think I would get this lucky. The parachute settles to the ground between Apollo and Phoebe's bodies. As if the Capitol is … what? Acknowledging what I did? Approving of it? Maybe. I don't know. And, right now, I don't care. We haven't eaten since the start of the Games, and we've had nothing but swamp water to drink.

No. Not we. There is no we, I remind myself as I race to the package and tear it open. There's a loaf of bread inside. It's small, but it's warm. Immediately, I take a big bite. Then another. Within minutes, the entire loaf is gone. Only then do I notice the knife – a small knife tucked inside the package, along with a note. 3M, 5M, 7F, 10M, 11F, SE.

The first five pairs make sense. Males from Three, Five, and Ten. Females from Seven and Eleven. A list of the tributes who died today. But, to be honest, that's not much help to me. I knew three of those already. Darrin, Phoebe, and Apollo. The other two – the boy from Three and the girl from Seven – are more significant because of who they're not. They're not Bentley. He's still alive.

And of course he is. There have only been two cannons since he left, and those belonged to Phoebe and Apollo. So the list doesn't really help. But those last two letters at the end – SE – what's that supposed to mean? Southeast, maybe, but what is southeast? More food? Water? Another tribute? Is that the way Bentley went? I'm not really sure which way is southeast.

Okay. Okay, think. The sun was setting off to the right as I was facing the hill. So that's west. Towards the hill would be south, then – more or less. So southeast – around the hill to my left? That's the way Bentley went. Are the Gamemakers trying to lead me to him?

And if they are, what do they want me to do?

The answer to that is obvious. They could have sent me plenty of food for the two of us. Instead, they sent me a small loaf of bread for me … and a knife. They want me to kill him.

The thought shouldn't bother me, maybe. I already killed Phobe and Apollo, after all. What's one more dead ally? But they were sleeping. Phoebe was injured, and Apollo … well, he was tired. He was tired of walking, tired of running – maybe tired of living. Maybe Bentley feels the same. Maybe I can pretend he does long enough to…

But he won't be asleep. Probably not, at least. If I find him, I'll have to fight. He's younger than me, but that's no guarantee in a fight. A boy his age won last year, after all.

But avoiding the fight … that's not a choice. Not anymore. The Capitol sent me a gift because they saw what I did. What I was willing to do. And if I want to go home, I have to be willing to keep doing it. There isn't a choice any more.

Lacey Blair, 16
District Eight

There isn't a choice anymore, really. I have to get some sleep. This isn't a great place for it, but maybe there isn't any great place to settle down in the arena. Maybe that's why tributes are dying so quickly.

Or, at least, it certainly seems like they're dying quickly. There are only thirteen of us left. Only one more than half. And I'm still here. I'm still alive.

But will I still be alive in the morning?

Stop. There are no guarantees that I'll make it through the night, but what could happen if I don't sleep now is even worse. If I don't sleep at night, I might simply collapse from exhaustion and fall asleep during the day, when it would be easier for another tribute to find me. At least this way, I'll be harder to spot. It's dark – very dark. With any luck, no one will find me. With any luck, no one will even be looking. Maybe everyone else will be sleeping, too.

I shake my head as I lie down under the largest tree I can find. I don't really believe that – that everyone else is sleeping. They certainly weren't last night, if the number of cannons is anything to go by. And, really, it's all I have to go by. It's not as if they've sent me a parachute or anything.

Then again, why would they? I haven't killed anyone. I've lost both of my allies. I've barely been surviving. And while surviving may be good enough for me, it doesn't look particularly impressive to the Capitol. If I want something from them – even their attention – I'm going to have to do something drastic.

I hold back a yawn as I close my eyes. I'm too tired to really think about that right now. And too tired to make a decision that might end badly. Best to get some rest first. Maybe things will seem different in the morning.

Different. If anything, they'll be worse. It's not as if food is going to magically appear overnight. But there's nothing I can do about that. I'll be hungry in the morning – that's just the way it is. For right now, I need some sleep.

Jethro Brackish, 14
District Four

Maybe I just need some sleep. My head has been aching ever since the boy from three slammed it against the ground. Mel has been telling me to get some sleep, to let her keep watch, and maybe she's right. It certainly worked well enough last night.

But last night, there were more tributes left. There are only thirteen of us left in the Games. Only a little more than half. How long can Mel and I keep working together? I told her earlier that we made a good team, but how long can that last? How long before she realizes that maybe she doesn't need me anymore?

Or maybe I don't need her.

I glance over at Mel as I finally settle down on the ground. "Wake me when you get tired," I offer, and she nods crisply. That's good enough for me. For now. For now, I need her. And she'll need me, if she plans on sleeping tonight. After that…

What comes after that, I can figure out in the morning. I'm too tired to think right now. My head hurts too much. I should be grateful to be alive, but, right now, I just want to sleep.

Mel Mills, 13
District Nine

He's almost asleep before he lays his head down on a tree root. Maybe he's more tired than I thought. Or maybe that boy hurt him worse than I thought when he slammed him against the ground. Jethro didn't say anything about being in pain, but why would he? It's not as if I can do anything about it. And it's not as if anyone in the Capitol would care.

I swallow hard. That's not fair. Some of them must care. It's not as if everyone in the Capitol is a heartless monster. Our escort, Phoenix, was always nice enough. And yet … we still have the Games. Enough people in the Capitol were in favor of the Games – or at least not openly against them – that they were a success last year. There was no objection. No protest. At least, not one that we ever saw.

But would we? If people in the Capitol disagreed with the Games, how would we even find out? There could be people watching right now who are sickened by what's going on, and we would never know the difference. The only ones we see – the president, the Gamemakers, the host, the escorts – are the ones who are excited about the Games. If there are people who aren't, they probably have the sense to stay hidden.

I lean back against a tree, staring out into the darkness of the trees in front of me. It doesn't matter what they think. Doesn't matter, really, whether any of them care that we're here. We are here, in the Games, fighting for our lives. I killed a boy today. And I did it because of them. Because of what they're doing to us. Or, at best, because of what they're allowing to happen. This is their fault – not mine.

I swallow hard, trying to believe it. That it isn't really my fault that there's a dead body only a little ways away from us in the woods. The boy from Three is dead. I killed him. Yes, he was about to kill Jethro, but I still did it. Might have done it even if he hadn't been about to kill my ally. I don't know. I don't know what I would have done if the circumstances had been just a little different.

And that … that scares me. More than I'd like to admit. I don't know what I would have done. What I would have felt. I don't even really know what I am feeling right now, except exhausted. Only two days into the Games, and I already want this to be over. I'm almost desperate for it to end.

But there are only two ways it ends. Either I die, or I have to kill again. And again. There are thirteen of us left. How many of the others will I have to kill if I want to survive?

Jae Park, 17
District Six

There's no telling when I might have to be ready to kill again. I finger my axe silently as I settle down against a tree, waiting in the dark. I'm not exactly tired – I got some sleep earlier – but there's no point in trying to make my way through the woods in the dark. I'd make too much noise. Attract too much attention. If I stay put, I'll save my energy, and have a smaller chance of being noticed.

I grip the handle of the axe tightly at the thought. I haven't been noticed so far – not by the other tributes, and probably not by the audience in the Capitol, either. Sure, I killed the girl from Seven, but it wasn't as if that was much of a fight. Chopping down her tree kept me from having to face her in a fair fight. If I was up against someone who wasn't pinned by a tree branch, would I really have a chance?

It would depend on who the other tribute was, I suppose. I could probably handle one of the younger, smaller ones. I'm armed. I'm one of the older tributes. But, at the end of the day, there's only one of me. If a larger group happens to find me…

Then I'll just have to make sure they don't. Larger groups probably make a lot more noise as they're heading through the forest. Hell, maybe larger groups would avoid the forest entirely. If the group of five decided to stay at the top of the hill, this is probably the safest place for me to be.

Probably. There are no guarantees. I'm not really safe here – or anywhere in the arena. No one is safe until the last cannon sounds. Until the Victor is decided, anything could happen. Anything.

Isaac Swarthy, 16
District Twelve

Anything could happen. Any moment now. Any second. The woods are getting darker as the clouds cover what little light is coming from the stars. There's still enough light from the moon to see some shadows and shapes, but every little rustle of the wind through the trees sounds like footsteps.

I grip my dagger tighter as we make our way through the trees. In front of me, both Jayda and Ra are clutching their weapons tightly, as well, glancing this way and that, watching for any sign of movement. My whole body is tense. Too tense. We're supposed to be the ones who are hunting. There's no reason for us to be nervous. Tributes will be hiding from us. Trying to get away from us. No one would be stupid enough to attack three armed tributes. Would they?

I don't know. Maybe not stupid. Maybe just desperate. We have some food in our packs, after all – we made sure to bring plenty in case we're gone longer than we thought. If someone happens to notice that, it might be enough to prompt an attack.

And if they're going to attack anyone, it'll probably be me. Not because I'm the weakest or anything, but because I'm at the back of the group. They might figure they could sneak up on me from behind without anyone noticing. And they might be right. I glance behind me quickly before scooting up a little closer to Ra and Jayda. Neither of them says anything. Neither of them accuses me of being afraid. Maybe they're just as scared as I am.

Jayda Greggory, 18
District Two

Maybe he's just as afraid as I am. Just as afraid as Ra is, if he's got any sense – which I'm not entirely sure about. He seems confident. But how much of that is just an act? I'm trying to appear confident, too – for the Capitol's sake. Maybe Ra's doing the same thing. Trying to convince the Capitol that he knows what he's doing. That he's not scared.

And it's not as if I'm about to admit that I'm afraid – not in front of the audience. So we keep going. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Because none of us are willing to suggest that we turn around and go back. We can't afford to look like a bunch of frightened kids who are scared of the dark. We have to keep going if we're going to have any chance of success tonight.

Success. What, exactly, I'm hoping for, I'm not sure. Stumbling across anyone in the dark seems like a million-to-one chance right now. We're having the same problem we had last night – the forest is just too damn big. The chances of running into each other are too small, especially when we can't see a thing.

We can't see a thing.

Suddenly, Ra stops. Maybe he's thinking the same thing I am. We can't see anything, but we can hear. And I definitely hear something in the distance. Something that sounds like voices. Or, at least, I think it does. It's hard to tell. Whatever it is, it's quiet. It could be an animal. It could just be the wind. But, right now, it's all we have to go on.

I nod to Ra, holding a finger to my lips. He nods back and turns to the right – towards the sound. As we get a little closer, I can tell that it is, in fact, voices. A boy and a girl, I think. And one of the voices sounds familiar.

Shit.

I know one of the voices. And, as I glance over at Ra, I can tell that he recognizes the other. He looks as surprised as I am. Maybe he wasn't expecting them to be alive. I know I wasn't. Because one of those voices belongs to my district partner.

Ra Schintozo, 18
District One

One of those voices belongs to my district partner. I don't know how she's managed it. I don't know how she and her blind ally managed to survive this long. But, somehow, they have. They're still alive.

And now we're going to have to kill them.

That thought makes me more uncomfortable than I'd like to admit. Throughout training, I was never particularly attached to Charlotte, but I never relished the thought that I might be the one to kill her. Once she made it away from the top of the hill at the start of the Games, I was hoping that would be the last I saw of her. That someone else would find her before I could.

But we weren't that lucky – Jayda and I. Even in the dim light, I can see the indecision on her face. She doesn't want to kill Julian. She doesn't want to kill a blind kid who, by all rights, shouldn't have made it this far. But they're the first tributes we've actually managed to find. We can't afford to walk away from a pair of easy kills. Not when there are only thirteen tributes left. Soon, it'll have to be eleven.

Isaac takes a step forward, shaking us from our hesitation. "So what's the plan?" he whispers, too quietly for our district partners to hear, even if they're listening. Which they probably aren't. They're chatting with each other, and I thought I heard one of them laugh a moment ago. It seems a shame to interrupt them now, but…

But it's what we have to do, if we want to survive. It's what I have to do. Jayda glances back and forth from Isaac to me, then back again. "All right," she whispers. "Here's what we do."

Charlotte Jacquard, 17
District One

What are we supposed to do now? Julian and I fell silent when we heard tree branches cracking in the distance a moment ago, but it's hard to tell which way they're coming from. One comes from the left, then another from the right. Maybe we're surrounded. Or maybe it's an animal. Or maybe it's just the wind. There's no way to know for sure, until…

Then I can see a figure, off in the distance to the left. "Get up," I whisper to Julian, taking my own dagger and handing him his spear as the figure approaches. I can see another one now – approaching from the right. And a third, coming from behind us. We're surrounded. They're armed. There's nothing to do but fight.

"Run," Julian whispers, but we both know it's too late for that. Too late for either us to escape. We got lucky last time, when the note that came with our parachute warned us in advance to run. This time, we don't have a choice.

I position myself facing two of the attackers – more or less – and back-to-back with Julian. "Wait for them to attack first," I whisper. Obviously. It wouldn't do any good for him to try to strike first against an enemy he can't see. We're already surrounded. The best thing we can do is wait for them to attack and hope they make a mistake. Hope they underestimate us.

"Hello, Charlotte." I nearly jump when I hear the voice. Well, shit.

I suppose it makes sense, really, now that I think about it. Who else's group would be out hunting in the middle of the night? Who else could still have this many allies left? "Hello, Ra."

"Ra?" Julian asks softly. "Does that mean—"

"Jayda's here, too," I confirm. "They're the two in front of me – Isaac is in front of you."

"Isaac?"

"Twelve." They're almost close enough to strike now. "He's got a dagger. Your spear is longer. Use that – hold him off."

Right. Even with a longer weapon, he doesn't stand a chance against someone who can see. And I won't be able to fight off two tributes in time to help him. This is it. This is really it. I'm not ready.

"I know," Julian whispers. Maybe I said the words aloud. Maybe he can tell I'm not ready for this. "Together?"

I take a deep breath. "Together."

Isaac Swarthy, 16
District Twelve

Together. If that's how they want to die, that's fine with me and Z. I take a step closer. Then another. The blind boy raises his spear, swings it in my direction. I don't even have to dodge. He wasn't even close.

This is going to be too easy.

I can see Ra and Jayda on the other side of the pair, approaching slowly. Cautiously. As if they're still expecting some sort of trick. But it's obvious now that these two don't have anything up their sleeves. They're prepared to die here, back-to-back, defending each other.

I take another step closer, dodging his spear. Ducking below it. A quick slice across one of his legs brings him down, and before the girl can do anything to interfere, Ra and Jayda move in. The boy jabs his spear blindly up at me, but it's easy to dodge. I take a step closer, making a grab at his spear and finally catching hold. It's easy – almost too easy – to yank it from his grasp. "Is that really the best you can do?" I spit. Z is having fun.

No. I'm having fun. The boy staggers to his feet, weaponless, blood dripping from his injured leg. I give him a shove away from the fight. Away from his ally. Away from anyone who can help him.

Charlotte Jacquard, 17
District One

I'm too far away to help him. I can see Julian out of the corner of my eye – and I can see the boy from Twelve driving him away from us. Splitting up the fight. But that's all I have time to catch as Ra's spear swings towards me. I duck. Dodge. But Jayda is getting too close, and her dagger finally meets mine. Ra circles around, but he seems more interested in keeping me from going anywhere than in actually fighting me.

But Jayda's strong enough for both of them. One stroke, then another. I dodge one, block another, then dodge again, but I'm breathing hard. Suddenly, Ra swings his spear against the back of my legs, and I topple to the ground. Before I can scramble to my feet, Jayda's blade slices across my stomach, and blood begins to spill out. Warm and wet and sticky, spilling across the ground. I grip my dagger tightly, but it's useless. Ra takes a step back, offering Jayda his spear. She nods a little as she takes it. Raises it. Drives it down into my chest.

At least it's quick…

Julian Masters, 16
District Two

He has no intention of making it quick. "One down," the boy from Twelve gloats as the cannon sounds. Charlotte's cannon, I have no doubt. I can't see what's happening, but if she was facing both Ra and Jayda … she knew. She knew this was the end.

Some sort of blade slices across my arm as something presses into my chest. The boy's knee, probably. I don't have to see his face to know he's smiling. He's won. So why doesn't he just get it over with? I wriggle a little beneath him, but I know it's useless. It's always been useless.

Jayda Greggory, 18
District Two

We both know it's useless. Ra and I hurry over to Isaac as the girl's cannon sounds, but it's already obvious he doesn't need our help. He has Julian pinned with his knee, squirming as Isaac traces his dagger along his arm. Then his chest.

I don't think. Can't think. Before I even realize what I'm doing, Ra's spear is buried in Isaac's back. Isaac slumps over on top of Julian, his eyes wide even as the cannon sounds. I kick his body off of Julian and retrieve Ra's spear. Julian inches backwards a little but still doesn't stand. Maybe he can't stand. "What happened? Charlotte?"

I shake my head before reminding myself he can't see it. "Charlotte's dead." I take a step back, handing the spear to Ra. "I'm sorry, Julian."

Julian sits up a little, wincing in pain. "Just … just make it quick."

Ra does. He drives the spear deep into my district partner's chest, and Julian's cannon sounds immediately. He's dead. I didn't kill him, but still…

Ra lays a hand on my shoulder, and I look up, startled. "Well done. He was extra baggage, anyway." It takes me a moment to realize that he's talking about Isaac. That I killed Isaac. An ally. An ally who was about to kill my district partner. A district partner who had to die anyway, but still…

I'm not sure what to make of any of it. Ra nods a little, as if he understands. Maybe he does. After all, his district partner is dead, as well. I killed her. And he killed mine. At least that way, neither of us will have to face our district knowing that we killed someone else from our home. Maybe it's a little thing – and maybe it's semantics – but maybe it counts for something.

But it only counts for anything if I survive this. If I'm dead, no one in the district will care whether or not I killed Julian. And I'm sure Ra is thinking the same thing. But he simply lays his spear down and begins to search the bodies for anything useful. After a moment, he chuckles.

Ra Schintozo, 18
District One

I can't help chuckling when I see the note. The note that could only have come from a parachute – a parachute that's nowhere in sight. So it's not tonight's parachute. Therefore, it must be from last night. They got a parachute last night. They were the tributes we were chasing.

At least we finally found them. We finally did something – something the audience will certainly enjoy. Our district partners are dead. Jayda killed an ally – but not, I must say, an ally I'm sorry to be rid off. He was always more of a nuisance than anything else. But Jayda…

If I'm being honest, I'm glad Jayda is still alive. That the pair of us made it through the fight unscathed. Not that it was much of a fight, in the end. But it was something. And maybe enough to keep the audience satisfied, especially now that there are only ten of us left.

Ten. Only ten. I hand the paper to Jayda, who shakes her head, taking in the tributes listed. D4F, D6F, D8M, D9M, D10F, D11M. The tributes who died on the first day – most of which we knew already. Ivone killed the girl from Four. I killed the girl from Six. Jayda killed the boy from Eleven. We knew Hannah was dead. That leaves the boys from Eight and Nine, neither of whom is really a surprise. The boy from Nine was one of the boy from Eleven's allies, and the boy from Eight was only Twelve years old. I would be more surprised if he was still alive.

Then again, I was pretty surprised to see Charlotte and Julian still alive, as well. So there's no telling who else might still be alive. Jayda and I trade a look as we head back for the top of the hill. We'll have to come up with some sort of explanation for how Isaac died, but that shouldn't be too hard. We just don't want to tell Ivone that we killed her district partner.

Grant Aquinas
District Twelve Escort

And, just like that, there are no pairs of district partners left. Ten tributes left, but no district pairs. The pairs from One, Two, and Twelve were the last, and now…

Honestly, I'm surprised both Isaac and Ivone have lasted this long. Then again, I wasn't expecting Elijah to last to the final five last year, and he did. Surviving this long doesn't really mean anything if they still end up dead. Isaac is just as dead as the boy from Eleven, who died first. And even if Ivone is the last to die, she'll still be dead. The only thing that really matters is who comes home.

And I was never really expecting it to be either of them. Or anyone from District Twelve. Hell, look at who won last year. A kid from One who was the son of two Capitol soldiers. And you can bet the Capitol had a hand in that. District Twelve? They're rebels through and through. I knew that when I volunteered to be an escort – knew I might get stuck with one of the more rebellious districts – but I was still hoping I wouldn't get saddled with one like Twelve.

It won't be long, though. Won't be long before some of the other escorts decide this is too much for them. Won't be long before some of them decide to retire, and I'll get to move up. Until then, I'll just have to wait and hope my tributes don't wind up being too much of an embarrassment to their lousy district.

And so far, they're leaving a bit to be desired in that area. Isaac couldn't even manage to kill a blind kid quickly, and Ivone is still stuck at the top of the hill watching the others' supplies. Not exactly an impressive showing, considering what their allies have done. But there's time, I suppose – for Ivone, at least. For Isaac – and for thirteen other tributes – that time is over.