A/N: Here's the next chapter. They're back in the games. Hooray. I hope you like it, and please, please, please review. It means a lot to me. -Knifethrower

Prim POV

I'll never be ready for this. No matter how hard I try, I won't ever say, "It's time" and take my place. I look to Cinna for reassurance, hoping he understands. I may have been through this once before, but that doesn't mean I don't have the feeling of impending doom. I will never get used to the death that these games stand for. I feel myself begin to tremble as Cinna adjusts the blue jumpsuit.

"I don't know what this is good for, but it has to be worth something in there." He says, securing a plastic purple belt around my waist. He wraps me in a hug before kneeling down to my level. "You have what it takes. You did this once, you'll do it again." I can do nothing but nod numbly.

Suddenly, Haymitch bursts into the room. "Haymitch?" He sighs in relief when he sees me. "I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye." I almost smile. That's one of the nicest things he's ever said to me. He takes Cinna's place, smoothing back my braids.

"You aren't supposed to be here." I tell him. He chuckles humorlessly, glancing nervously at the clock. "I'm not supposed to do a lot of things." I try to laugh, but end up choking on my own sobs. A rare look of compassion crosses Haymitch's face as he wraps me in a hug.

Suddenly, I can do nothing but waste my last minutes crying. The tears come thick and fast, falling down my cheeks and onto my jumpsuit. Haymitch rubs my back soothingly, feeling like the closest thing to a father I've ever had. "I… don't… want… to… go… back." I sob, hiccupping loudly.

"I know princess, I know." I bury my face in his shoulder until the sobs subside. An electronic voice begins a thirty second countdown, and I know this is it. Haymitch hugs me one last time, before standing to the side. I walk on shaky legs to the tube, hoping my breakfast doesn't make a reappearance.

I step into the tube, feeling more scared than I ever have. I was better off in my first games. Now, I know what's coming. I know what I'll have to do in order to stay alive. And this time, I'm not alone. That, in a way, is worse than having no one. Because if there's anything I've learned from my previous games, it that caring is what gets you killed. And I can't afford to die. Not yet, not today.

But the odds have never been in my favor.

Rory POV

What did we do to deserve this? I think, as I'm enveloped by the thick darkness. I smooth back my hair, trying to ignore the fear rooted in my core. I have to be strong. For Prim. I look up, hoping to see light, but finding only black space. It shows no sign of ever ending. Just an infinite stream of darkness.

I tighten the plastic belt around my waist. Nervous sweat drips down my forehead. I wipe it away, forcing myself to look ahead. Whatever is waiting for me up there, I need to be ready for. I can't be caught off guard the way so many tributes are. It would be a death sentence. My eyes close in preparation as the light filters into the tube.

I don't want to face what lies ahead of me, but I have no choice. I feel the sunlight beat down on top of my head. A smell I'm unfamiliar with fills the air. Water washes onto my shoes. I yank them away, opening my eyes.

I'm surrounded by water, the cornucopia an island in the middle of the pedestals. To my right, Finnick's accompanying tribute Pearl nods at me. I set my feet towards the cornucopia, seeing no other options. Prim is three tributes down, also turned towards the island. I wonder how many tributes here can swim. Probably not many. I look at the row of weapons, finding a bow among the stack.

It's mine, I know it. Because sitting right next to it, are a gleaming set of knives.

Finnick POV

This arena was built for me. I know it. The Capital is trying to tempt me. They're making it so impossibly easy to win this. They even left out three shining tridents within easy reach. But I can't be fazed. I know the audience wants to get me out just as much as Prim. They've been paying top dollar for me for years. But the rebellion needs me. And I don't want to be the Capital's slave anymore.

The clock ticks away with each passing second. My eyes find a set of sharpened axes floating on the shoreline. I glance at Johanna. She's already spotted them. They're trying to tempt her too. But Johanna isn't easily swayed. Two vests of knives are spaced a few feet apart. A bow and a sheath of arrows are lying next to one. The knives must be for Prim and Clove. Rory stares at the bow, confliction crossing his features. He knows the bow is for him. Everyone is being tempted. I have no doubt in my mind that blood will be shed.

The question is, by who?

Rue POV

The gong rings, signaling the start of a nightmare. I don't hesitate to leap into the water, the way Aunt Seeder showed me to. My feet kick frantically, my arms propelling in front of me. I slide easily through the water, doing my best on making it to the shoreline. I saw the slingshot. I know I have to get it.

Thresh is almost to the shore. Finnick is pawing through the weapons already. Prim is pulling herself onto the sand, Rory a few feet behind her. I pick up my pace, wondering where they could have learned how to swim so well in district twelve.

The bathtubs are big, but not like that. I laugh in a weak attempt to make fun of my own lame joke, only to get a mouthful of salty water instead. I sputter and cough, hauling myself onto the dry sand that clings to my wet suit. I take a moment to rest, before remembering that I can't do that anymore.

I scoop up the slingshot, along with a sharp packet or rocks. I load one quickly, turning around. Prim stands behind me, vest of knives over her wet suit. She twirls a deadly looking knife in her hand, before nodding to the forest. Cato, Clove, Finnick, Pearl, and Thresh wait there, each wielding weapons of their own. Rory appears behind Prim, a bow in hand. A coil of twine wraps around his wrist.

We follow them into the jungle, never stopping to look back.

Johanna POV

It's moments like these when I question my sanity. Actually, I always question my sanity, sometimes more than others. I know I should've left Henry behind. I would be with the alliance right now, instead of towing him to shore.

I was about half way there, eyes on the axes when I heard him begin to cry. So I turned back. Because it wouldn't have been right to ignore him. He still has a chance at seeing his family again. We all do. The rebellion was only going to wait three days. I can keep him alive for three days. I hope.

As silly as this sounds, I want him to be back with his family. Only because it's my fault he's here anyways. I pull him onto the shore, shoving him in the direction of the jungle. "Wait at the tree line." The bloodbath is no place for a twelve year old.

I fight my way in, reaching the axes just in time to slice the hand of another tribute. I've never seen her before. She must be one of the ones dragged in by a victor. I can't bring myself to feel guilt. I grab the second set of training axes for Henry as an afterthought.

He waits obediently at the edge of the jungle, like I told him. I hold out the axes to him. He leaps on them quickly, his face lighting up as it falls into the palm of his hand. I ruffle his hair, before leading him away from the dying tributes.

He looks up at me with admiration, something no one has ever directed towards me. I allow myself a small smile. Someone out there likes me. He looks questioningly at the blood on my wet suit. I just shake my head. He doesn't have to know that I'm a killer.

Not yet.

A/N: I hope you liked the chapter. Please, please review. The more reviews I get, the more inspired I am to write another chapter. I really want to know what you think about this story. Thanks!

-Knifethrower