The answer to my previous trivia question was: the Rocky Mountains

The receivers of those points were QueenOfSwordsAndFire who answered first and got six sponsor points. The following three each received four sponsor points: The epic bookworm, DonPianta, and KitKat2014.

District Eight female tribute – Age sixteen - Rylinn Abrith's point of view~

Something about the world is off; maybe it is the way that the ground rumbles, or how I am losing my sense of time, or it might be that the edges around the world are fuzzy, like I'm looking into the reflection of a mud puddle. I mentally scream at myself to open my eyes, but my body feels drained of all its energy, although I'm sure I have been lying huddled up, hidden within the cover of this worn down hollowed out tree for several hours, days even. I must have breathed in more of that toxic vapour than I first thought I had. Everything about that moment is hazy, pieces of it missing, and then I remember Buck, the idiot who told me off before he acted cowardly, running off in another direction.

I sit up quickly, immediately regretting it the moment all my blood rushes to my head, making the ground beneath my feet sway more than it already is. I just need to breathe, and wait for this uneasy feeling to fade, even though being patient is something that I have never been good at. As I lean back heavily against the hollowed tree, the world continues to tremble beneath me, but I play it off as being nothing. They are probably just trying to scare me out of hiding, wanting to draw me out into the open, but even trapped in a world of mist, I'll listen to my instincts and what they tell is that for the time being, I am safe, but in a few moments time it would be revealed to me that my instincts couldn't be more wrong. I wipe my hand across the back of my mouth, dry blood still caked to my lips. How long was I out for? I try to remember everything of that day, the careers showing up out of nowhere, standing to face them, ready to take them on, but then Buck ran off, seeing something more deadly than the careers. I wonder if he made it, as I don't recall seeing his face in the sky, but if I've been out for longer than I hope I have been, than chances are something got to him.

I remember screaming, so much screaming, and it didn't come from me. I'm too proud to show such blatant weakness by allowing my fear to bubble to such an intense level. Maybe the screaming came from him, but maybe it's for the better. I can't have someone so cowardly on my side, he would only slow me down more than he was to begin with; I'm better off working on my own. Although I can't ignore the anger that is aimed towards him, that has rooted its way to my core. He left me to fend for myself, running off to save his own skin, but to be honest; it shouldn't come as much as a surprise to me. We are all only looking out for ourselves in these Games, the loyalties that are drawn together through alliances only running so deep. I rest my head in my hands, now more angry at myself, why had I been so stupid to ally with someone in the first place? I could be better equipped, in a better situation, if I had just gone into the bloodbath alone, without having to worry about the life of another. I guess there is no sense in holding a grudge against the dead; that is if he is dead, but even if he isn't, it is only a matter of time; at least now I don't have to listen to him going on about how I have no control.

I don't want to admit it, especially to myself, but Buck may have been right about that one thing. I have wanted to believe that I have some control in this, in the outcome of the dice that have been idly thrown, but I don't. I actually roll my eyes as these thoughts assault my mind; god damn Capitol, god damn Games, god damn all of this to hell. I never asked to be here, I never asked to be a piece in their Games, those people who volunteered, who are in this for the glory, they are the ones who are deserving of any early grave; dying without a purpose, what a bunch of idiots they are in my eyes. The more I think about this, the angrier I become, to the point I am blinding myself to my surroundings, something that is more than deadly. I'm so absorbed in my anger, and hatred towards things that I have no control over, that I don't notice how much the ground has begun to quake, not until the rumbling sound that shoots through the air like electricity is almost right on top of me.

"What the hell is all that noise?!" I burst out the moment that I can no longer hear myself think. I poke my head outside the safety of my hideaway, my eyes widening at the sight of the oncoming danger. Large wild beasts are stampeding towards my direction, their flesh decaying, the bones protruding from the skin. The creatures are grotesque, but don't look all that threatening alone, but in a herd they will easily walk all over me. I begin to curse at volume, acting quickly, glad that my bag is already draped over my shoulders, but as my fingers grope for my belt, expecting to be met with my whip, they only find thin air. My heart begins thudding wildly within my chest, my breathing becoming rapid; I have got to move, the longer I linger here, the closer the herd becomes, but with each second that melts away all my mind can focus on is my weapon. I whip around quickly, my eyes searching the disturbed dirt, until they spot a small glint of gold. My hands lunge for it, pulling back my whip, only to crawl out of safety, all of my intentions on running, but then fate seems to want to drag me right back down again.

As I crawl through the dirt, standing back on my feet, when I swing around to run, my whip flailing around dangerously, it become caught in the bark of the tree that had once held me safe, but now all it wants to do is hold me captive. I'm beginning to panic, tugging wildly on my whip, trying to release it from its holds, but all I am doing is further lodging it in place. This weapon is my final life line, that one thing that can help me avoid the icy claws of death. Without it I am more likely to die, but if I am to stay and try to fight for it, I am going to become nothing more than a roadblock that is going to be easily plowed over. This is when I begin screaming, but not out of fear, but out of frustration. "Bloody hell!" I scream at the top of my lungs, but my voice is drowned out by the thunderous noise of hooves against the dirt. If I don't run now, I'm going to become just another causality, and after the close call that I avoided the day before, I refuse to go down now.

I promised to myself in that moment that my name was drawn from the reaping bowl, that if I was to go down, I would go down fighting and that is a promise I will not go back on. I throw my tangled whip to the ground, turning on my heels and begin running in any direction that could promise me safety. I will my feet to move faster than they ever have before, but everything about the motions I am making, from the way I pump my arms back and forth, to the sound my feet make when they hit the earth, feels oddly familiar to me. I've spent the better half of my life running from figures of authority, my laughter generally following my every waking moment. It was always for the thrills, for being able to prove that I was one step above the law, but it is this one single moment that everything seems to be catching up with me. This may be some sick ironic joke to the world, but to me this final run means the difference between life and death. My eyes begin scanning the horizon, I can't outrun these beasts, although I would like to think that I can, but I have to look past my pride, past my need to prove myself, to show that I can win this on my own, and think logically. Off to the right the hills begin to rise into almost a shelf, a place that I can hide amongst until these beasts past, and I quickly turn on my heels, ready to run for my life.

The wind whips through my hair, the ends flying behind me like a pair of raven's wings, adrenaline is coursing through my veins, only egging me on further. I haven't been running for very long in reality, but I feel like I have been struck in the same place for all of eternity, my final salvation just out of my reach, but once I reach the hills, what I am met with is not safety, not a place where I can catch my breath, but yet another obstacle, a place where I once again have to make a final stand. I don't even see them at first; I'm too busy in trying to slow my pace down, knowing I have reached a place where those wild beasts won't be able to trample over my limp body. I only notice them the moment I run straight into the girl, both of our bodies tumbling towards the earth in a disarray of limbs.

District Six female tribute – Age sixteen - Nelira Blue's point of view~

I knew what I was getting into from the moment that I volunteered, but I never thought that the Games could be so bloody frustrating. Everything from the heat, to how little food and water we have been able to find, to how no one has sponsored either of us, to how much Collin talks when he should be keeping his mouth shut, as a way not to draw any attention to us, it all piles up, creating a heavy stream of frustration to bubble through my veins, to the point where I may just snap. I only volunteered because I knew Collin, the idiot that he is, wouldn't have even made it past day one if it wasn't for me. I've kept him alive this long though, and I plan on keeping him alive for as much longer as I can. Collin deserves to make it home, he's a good person who would never hurt a fly, but if I am to go down in this fight before he does, a part of me knows he will be soon to follow. Even when I glance over at him now, running his hand along the high shelves of land, tripping over his feet, quietly humming to himself, he's just hopeless, but even the hopeless deserve a chance at some point.

There is also the other nagging reason behind why I need him to make it home; if I can't be there, someone has to be around to take care of what is left of my family. I left behind a home riddled with depression and famine, a place that over the last few years I could not bring myself to call home anymore. Between having to basically raise my sister, living in bitter toleration with my mother, it is no wonder I decided to befriend Collin, a boy who is so cheerful, even though he comes from a family that struggles more than my own does. As we wander down the rolling hills, looking for anything that can sustain us for the next few days, my mind begins to run away from me. First my mind is focused on the fact that we did manage to find water, the stream was small, but it was enough, but then my mind falls to the small stream that ran through my backyard back in District Six, it was more of a mud puddle in my eyes, but that didn't stop my younger sister from running through it, getting her clothes sprinkled in earth and water.

Rose; she is the perfect image of innocence, and she deserves so much better than the life I was able to provide for her, but maybe if Collin or I can make it back home, she can have better. She won't have to worry about going to bed hungry anymore, or fret over the fact that her clothes are too big for her, being hand-me-downs from when I was her age. The more that I think about my sister, the more emotions begin to well up inside of me, some being ones that I can't place a name to. I've never liked being able to feel too much, not over the last few years that is. Ever since my dad perished, anger has seemed to be my constant companion. It helped me survive for awhile, but it has done nothing but slowly corrode my world. I have learned not to let my emotions get the better of me, but anger is that one that is able to cloud my vision, impairing my judgment, making it difficult to think straight. Then there were always those things that made me so angry that I wasn't able to avoid, no matter how much I wish that I could, like my mother. She had better be looking after Rose because I swear if she isn't, even after death, I will make sure that her life is hell. I hated my mother for being stricken by depression, for neglecting Rose. I could care less if she didn't pay any attention to me, but Rose is another story.

I give my head a quick shake, my nails having begun to dig into the palms of my hands. I can't be thinking about how things may be back home, they will only make me worry, or make me angry. I need to have a clear head, otherwise things here in the arena are not going to end too well, but something that should be easy, couldn't be more difficult to me. "Nel?" I hear a familiar voice calling to me from far away, a sturdy hand tugging on the sleeve of my jacket. "What do you want now Collin?" I snap, swatting his hand away. He doesn't even flinch at my tone, he just simply takes it, and for some reason that only pisses me off further. "I was just going to tell you a joke I remember one of my sisters telling me, maybe it could help lighten the mood," He says with his signature lopsided grin, not even the horrors of the Games being able to bring him down. We have both seen bloodshed, heard screaming throughout the night, been starving, thirsty, been watched like animals in a cage, but still he is able to smile, and a part of me just wants to smack it right off his face. It doesn't seem fair how Collin seems to constantly become the target of my anger; it's only because he has a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"I don't get it," I mutter, and he only raises his eyebrow in question. "Well you have to let me say the joke first," He begins, but I quickly cut him off. "No, not the stupid joke; how you can still smile after all of this, it isn't right!" The volume of my voice slowly begins to rise, even though I have been the one who has been bossing Collin around the last few days, telling him to keep his voice down that way no other tributes could overhear us. "Well its better than being all gloomy," Collin shrugs his shoulders, acting like the innocent boy that he is. Maybe I'm jealous about the fact that life can deal him the shittiest hand possible, but he still finds a way to smile, a tactic I have never been able to do. "We're in the Games Collin; people don't smile here, they don't tell jokes," I say while shaking my head. "I know, but I would rather be doing that, then what we are supposed to do here," As he speaks I notice the shudder that runs through his body. This is why he needs me, why he is so dependant even if he doesn't know it; he would never be able to kill if it came down to it, if his life was hanging in the balance.

I open my mouth to shoot back some retort, but I quickly silence myself at the sound of some kind of disturbance just over the hills. I strain my ears, trying to listen, but I can't tell what it is. "What is that?" Collin asks, but I don't answer him, his guess would be as good as my own. It seems too loud to be created by other tributes, and when the ground begins to quake is when I act on my instincts. "I don't know, but we need to get out of here, now," I say sharply, Collin nodding in agreement, but I know he would have gone along with anything I had said. We begin making our way down the slopes, along the rock and earth made shelf that spirals up into the sky to our right, it provides us great coverage, but the way it sharply turns makes it difficult to see where the noise is coming from, making it bounce off the walls so it could be coming from anywhere. We begin to quicken our pace, but then I am seeing stars, tumbling towards the earth, caught in a disarray of limbs.

At first I think that Collin has cut me off, tripping us both up, but instead of looking into the familiar deep blue eyes of Collin, I'm looking into a pair of lethal looking green eyes. Instantly my heart race begins to pick up, the fight in my coming to life. I can hear Collin shouting my name, but he's at a loss of what to do, but I know this girl needs to die if we want to live. The girl is stronger than I am, pinning her elbow against my throat, but my fingers slide down to my belt, searching for my knife, but panic floods through me when I realize it's not there. Everything happens so quickly, bringing my knee up so it connects with the girls stomach, the air rushing out of her lungs, throwing her off of me, my eyes searching for my knife, which must have been knocked loose from its place when I fell. I quickly glance at Collin, who is frozen in fear to where he stands, but when I finally find my knife, I am not the only one who has it in their sights. I drag my body across the earth, trying to reach it first, but the other girl beats me there, holding the prize triumphantly between her clutches.

I thought I would be more prepared for a moment like this, where we were caught off guard, but a part of me knows only one of us is going to make it out of this alive. "Collin, run!" I scream, when the girl scrambles to her feet, getting ready to lunge at him. "I don't think so bitch!" I scream before I throw myself at the girl, sending us both back down to the ground again, but the moment I hit the ground I know something is wrong. She has the knife against my throat, opening my neck into a sick red smile. I'm choking, drowning in my own blood, but my thoughts focus mainly on Collin. Did he get away? Somewhere far away I hear a struggle, a sick cracking noise, before the weight of the other girl is pushed off of me. I can't see, the world going fuzzy, slowly beginning to fade to black. I can feel my own warm blood slowly beginning to coat my body, but amongst the pain, the knowing that this is it, do I see something familiar.

Breath taking blue eyes are looking down at me, clouded with tears. Collin is alive, he managed to survive, that's all I repeat to myself in these final moments. I see his lips moving, but I can't hear him. My lips are trembling, trying to form words, but my strength is fleeting. Collin grips one of my hands, holding it like it was his final lifeline. I don't want to leave him behind, to have him fend for himself, but I realize that I don't have a choice. He brushes my cheek with a shaky hand, smearing blood across my face, but all I do is focus on his eyes; the last thing I want to see before the world turns to black. He is a piece of home, something that I thought I no longer had, but was staring me right in the face all these years. He's begging, asking me to stay with him, but I can't, I have to go. I spent the greater part of my life trying to keep this boy alive, but the most painful thing of all this is that I won't be around to see if he makes it.

District Six male tribute – Age seventeen - Collin Matthew Wrather's point of view~

I can't move, every nerve in my body fighting the commands that my mind yells at them. I've never been the type to be particularly brave, but I also didn't think that fear would have such a strong, vicelike grip on me. The girl with the raven black hair, who I recognize as the female tribute from District Eight, comes flying out of nowhere, colliding with Nel, sending them both hurdling towards the ground in a tangled mass. Nel has always been the strongest of the pair of us, the one who was always willing to run head first into a fight, but something about this is different. Maybe it is the fact that there is now a greater prize at hand, other than pride.

I take a few shaky steps backwards, my eyes wide, my mind racing, but my body is not listening. I'm mentally screaming at myself to move, to help Nel, but I wouldn't know what to do. I have never been in a fight before, I've never handled a weapon in my life, and Nel has told me that I wouldn't be able to kill if it came down to it. She said I'm too innocent, too pure to take a life, and maybe she was right, but I thought things may be different if I knew her life was on the line. Nel is here because of me, but I never put much thought into it before, mainly because I never put much thought into anything. That is why I have been able to slide through life with a smile dancing across my lips, even if it seemed out of place, especially here in the arena. Yet it is here that I really see why she had to volunteer, as she put it; without her I would already be dead, I really am hopeless.

Nel screams at me to run, but everything about those words just feels wrong. How can she expect me to just leave her behind; I would never be able to forgive myself if I were to part ways with her now. I almost feel like I've been submerged in water, the whole world slowing down to an unbearably slow pace. It's like looking through the water towards the surface, something that is just out of your reach. I may as well be back home, watching this all unfold, that is how useless I feel, drowning beneath the pressure of reality. I'm even worse than the people of the Capitol, the strangely colored human beings, who Nel is constantly cursing about. They all watch the fight from the comfort of their homes, grease dripping from their lips; I never bothered to care about what they did with their lives, but with Nel always swearing absurdities about them, I grew to adopt her opinion, and it is here that I draw together that I am worse than they are. Here I am, sitting in the hot seat, the front row, and still I am doing nothing. I can't speak, I can't will myself to move, I'm useless; the boy from District Six who everyone had expected to be finished off on day one, and I would have been if it wasn't for the girl who is fighting for my life right before my eyes.

Nel's voice is still ringing through my ears, my eyes wide as the District Eight girl stands to lunge in my direction, brandishing the knife that once belonged to Nel. I've lived in a world of starvation and depression all my life, but that was never enough to bring me down, but now all I can feel is fear, a crushing emotion that threatens to steal away my breath. The look in the girl's eyes is wild, but she looks scared almost; she doesn't want to die any more than Nel or I do. This is what sets me apart from most, no one in my position would be noticing the fear of my attacker, most would either be running or making their final stand, but instead I am noticing the minor details, things that shouldn't matter in this moment. I squeeze my eyes closed, bracing myself for the blade, but it never comes, but when I open my eyes what I see is worse than death itself. The girl has Nel on the ground, the knife held between her clutches glinting menacing in the glow of the sun. "No!" I scream, but words are useless against an edged blade, they don't stop it from cutting through Nel's neck, they don't stop her eyes from bulging from her head, they don't stop the way she now gasps for air.

Crimson is everywhere, hanging in the air, clouding my vision, buzzing through my head, soon to be stained to my hands. They all said I would never have it in me; that I could never hurt a fly, but it is now that I am going to prove them all wrong. The girl doesn't even have time to turn around and face me, to see the large rock that is now held between my clutches, she doesn't see it until it strikes across her skull, a sickening cracking noise ringing all around us. I bring the rock down once, twice, three times, only stopping when the girl drops to the ground, her cannon soon following after her. The people of the Capitol are all sitting at home, with their mouths hanging open wide, not expecting that I would be the one to rise up from the crimson. I was not a favourite in practice, I wasn't feared by the other tributes, I only came off as a gentle giant in the interviews, but now here I stand, a blood slicked rock held in my hands, my body trembling, tears clouding my vision. I don't have time to think about what it is I have done, all I can think about is Nel, dying at my feet.

I drop down to my knees, bringing my hands to Nel's neck, trying to stop the heavy stream of blood that flows from the gash, but my efforts are fruitless, useless. I've never seen so much blood in my life; I feel like I could drown in it if I allowed it to. "Nel, can you hear me?" I choke out, trying to keep my voice steady, but that attempt is almost as useless as trying to patch up her wound. Nel only looks up at me with wide eyes, her body withering on the ground, as the life slowly drains from her eyes. "Please, Nel you can't leave me here, you can't, you just can't," By now tears are streaming down my cheeks, and I feel no shame for the weakness that I show. Her lips tremble, as she tries to form words, but nothing but chocked noises slip free from her lips. I take her shaking hand in my own, holding it tight, as if it were my final lifeline, and in many ways that is exactly what it is. Nel is that one person who has kept me alive, even though she didn't have to; she didn't even like me when we first met, she saw me as nothing more than an annoyance, but over the years I slowly grew on her, and now without her I don't know what to do.

"Nel you can't leave me; remember I'm the hopeless one? You can call me an idiot a thousand times over, slap me as hard as you can, if that's what it takes; I would even be willing to switch places with you. I need you Nel; I can't survive here without you," I continue to beg her, gently brushing my hand across her cheek, smearing blood across her skin. I just want to hear her call me an idiot one last time, to have her push me out of her way when I clumsily step in front of her, I just want those little things that made her and mine's friendship so unique. I would be willing to give up anything to prevent this from happening, but it is my fault she is here, lying in the dirt, smeared in her own blood, clinging desperately to the last few seconds of her life. "Please Nel, I need you," I whisper, as I place my head on her shoulder, still gripping her hand tight. I haven't cried in years, I didn't even cry when my dad left, but right now that doesn't matter, tears dampen my cheeks, mingling with the blood that falls towards the earth.

With the sound of Nel's laboured final breaths echoing through my ears, I'm thinking about how we met; how I ran straight into her at school, running away from some other kids who were mad at me for kicking their only ball over the fence. She cursed me out good, even though we were only young; she had a mouth on her, which would only get worse as the years went on. I was drawn to her, and even now I'm not sure why. I followed her around like a puppy dog for days, driving her up the wall, until she became used to my company, and from there we were inseparable, but now here is fate, tearing us apart. "I'm sorry Nel," I whisper, as she draws in her final breath, her cannon going off somewhere far away; the moment I hear her cannon go off I snap back up, her once strong grip on my hand loosening. I don't want to accept this reality, I want to believe that our roles have been reversed, that for a change she is the one playing a joke on me, only pretending to be asleep, having smeared ketchup all over herself. I grip her shoulders, gently shaking her, calling her name, but when she doesn't respond I begin to shake her harder. "Nel, wake up!" I scream at her lifeless body, grief taking its toll on my body, turning my mind to mush, ripping my insides into two. When she still doesn't respond, and the realization that she is gone hits me, is when I drop her, now looking at my red stained hands.

"I want to go home," I say quietly. "I want to go home," I say louder this time, my hands shaking uncontrollably. The red staining my hands seems to be staring back up at me, whispering to me the things that I have done, and what I have failed to do. I look behind me, my eyes falling upon the girl from District Eight with her skull smashed in, and this is when I begin to feel sick to my stomach. I crawl away from the horror show, but careful not to let Nel out of my sight, I'm not ready for the Capitol to take her away from me. I breath in deeply, trying to calm my nerves, but when the thick scent of blood hits me is when my stomach churns, causing me to empty its contents, getting rid of what little nourishment I have been able to get my hands on over the last few days. Once my stomach is empty, I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth, crawling back over to Nel, holding her hand in mine again. It is useless to linger here, no amount of begging is going to bring her back, but just leaving her here like this, all covered in blood, her eyes blankly staring up into the sky, feels wrong. I feel like I need to do something for her, but my mind only draws a blank. Instead I sit there for what feels like all of eternity, tears budding at the corners of my eyes, only to break away to join the dirt and blood beneath me.

I can almost hear Nel yelling at me, telling me to stop crying, to suck it up and move on. It takes all of my energy to detach my hand from Nel's, but I don't move away from her right away. First, I carefully take her arm, removing her token, a bracelet made of yarn that her sister had made for her, the last piece of Nel I'll be able to keep as my own. I brush her hair away from her face, kissing her on the forehead before I stand up. I'm about to drag myself away from this scene, but stop short when I hear Nel screaming in the back of my mind again, telling me to take the bag from both her body and the girl that died by my hands body. I move robotically, first gently taking the bag from Nel's stilled body, but hesitating when I turn to face the other girl. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that my hands did this; I did something that no one thought I was capable of. What if this girl had family, people that cared about her? I try to ignore these thoughts, as I quickly remove her bag from her limp shoulders, grabbing the red stained knife that lays discarded by Nel's side. My breathing is shallow, as I turn to walk away, but every inch of my body screams at me to stay. All I want is to be able to cling onto these false dreams that Nel will wake up, but all I am doing is setting myself up for disappointment. She's not going to wake up; she's gone, leaving me behind to fend for myself, something that I have never been able to do.

I clumsily begin to walk away, basically dragging my feet across the dirt when I hear the disturbance in the air in the direction of where I came from. When I turn around I see the hovercraft appear, a claw dropping to retrieve the District Eight girl's body, then returning to snatch Nel away from this world as well. It takes all my strength not to drop to my knees, succumbing to my pain once more, but instead I tightly grip onto Nel's bracelet, forcing myself to move forward until my feet refuse to carry me any further. I don't make it much further until I collapse amongst a small indent in the hills grooves, leaning back heavily against the dirt wall. I still refuse to accept the fact that she is gone, a part of me is expecting her to come running around the corner, calling me an idiot for leaving her behind, but she never comes. I curl up on the ground, hugging my knees tight to my chest, feeling more like a child than I thought was possible. I idly wrap Nel's bracelet around the knife that is now mine, one that is both my damnation and salvation, closing my eyes, preparing myself for the moment that her face flashes across the night sky.

List of tributes that are still alive~

District One - Phoenix 'Foe' Sterling

District One – Dapar Radsha

District Two – Kenzi Rodgers

District Three – Kallina Censura

District Four – Vencitiy Corbinette

District Four- Theo Macdonald

District Five – Alexia Tide

District Five – Pike Rivers

District Six – Collin Wrathers

District Nine - Astoria Delacorte

District Twelve – Bluebell Hart

I feel bad about having to rip those two apart, but it had to be done, but on a happier note it didn't take me months to post this next chapter (; Now there are only roughly about six or seven chapters left so you all better be praying for your characters~

Now here is your sponsor question~

What type of berry does Gale toss into Katniss's mouth when they make fun of Effie on Reaping Day?

The first to answer correctly will receive six sponsor points and the next three to answer correctly will receive four sponsor points.