Recommended Listening: The Way It Is by Bruce Hornsby

Rome Gnaeus, District 1

Apparently the Capitol doesn't like us much this year. We've been exploring as much as any other Career group—actually, more than any Career group I've seen. Since none of our hunts have been successful, we've upped and upped our number of daily excursions, and at this point we hardly rest at all.

I don't know how we lost favour. The Cornucopia incident, probably. The bloodbath was admittedly pathetic. Has the Capitol been against this group since the beginning? I know they've helped out the Careers before, sending them convenient natural disasters and such to drive the other tributes toward them. I highly doubt the Capitol's lost the power to do such things, so I guess they just don't approve of us.

Or at least they approve more of someone else. A lot of cannons have gone off today, none of which were caused by us. Maybe the Capitol decided to help out some promising psychopath. Pretty sure that's happened before, too.

In any case, we're definitely not going to get any more help today. There have been enough deaths to keep the Capitol buzzing long past nightfall. Any tribute we get today, we'll have to catch ourselves.

Today, we've proven the prarie crater is still unoccupied, certain parts of the mountainside don't have any tributes lounging around, and no one's in a somewhat safe part of the pine forest. We didn't try to venture in very far; I'm pretty sure those muttated pinecones are what did Vash in, and I'd rather not follow his fate.

Right now, we're just navigating the mountain again. I lead the way, most of our supplies in my backpack, while Ania, Sve, and Finni follow in single file for now. We're crossing a pretty narrow lip of stone, so our normal formation is not really possible right now.

"Ah!" comes a yelp from behind, accompanied by the clattering of bouncing rocks. I snap my gaze backward to see Finni tumbling and flailing around madly for a handhold. She's barely fallen a metre before Sve manages to snatch her arm and starts to pull her back up.

Tsk. Wish I were next to her when that happened. It's so dog-eat-dog out here, and I'm dying for a show of chivalry.

Or maybe I would have rather had Ania fall behind me. So I could lurch out, putting my life on the line for her safety, while she lets herself be pulled up in shock. And when she recovers, she'll finally realise just how much she really loves me.

Or something like that.

Sve pulls Finni up slowly, not wanting to compromise his own position and send himself and his girlfriend tumbling. Finni whimpers, trying not to move much. She does, however, attempt to help Sve out by pushing herself up on one of the jutting rocks.

And then the rock abruptly gives way.

Finni jolts down a bit with another yelp, but Sve doesn't lose his grip. Panting, the girl watches the rock clack down a ways with a shudder, and then looks at the hole she opened up and stares.

"S-S-Sve?" she starts timidly.

Sve doesn't give a verbal response, but his expression shows the faintest trace of questioning.

"C-can you pull me up a little faster? I see e-eyes in here!"

Sve's eyes flare open, and he starts tugging harder, almost slipping off the rock.

Finni's been pulled up about a foot by the time she's attacked.

Before anyone can lift a finger to stop it, whatever was hiding in that hole—something with fluffy, lime-green fur—jumps out, and, with a high-pitched sound that brings back some painful memories from the dentist's, stabs its rotating cone of a tail into Finni's stomach. Sve reacts quickly, swinging her away from the mountainside and the creature, but the momentum's too much for him, and they both go tumbling down. It's only for two or three metres, luckily for them, and then Sve sits her up against the mountainside.

I can tell from here how shredded a vortex has been drilled out of her abdomen; she has an apple-sized hole through her skin and an appropriate amount of blood coming out of it.

Sve looks—no, glares—up at us.

"Bandages. Now," he demands with a growl.

And it's hard for even me to imagine doing anything otherwise.

Greis Karpusi, District 8

So much for my peaceful little hideout. I guess the Capitol's not too fond of teenagers who pretty much spend all of their time sleeping. Maybe they thought I was making fun of their Games, not having to worry about anything. I tried to clearly establish I was willing to play by their rules—reference: murder I committed—but I guess that didn't keep me safe.

Getting woken up abruptly by a donation to the face is more or less what kept me safe.

And by "safe", I mean "alive" rather than "got out of the suddenly-active volcano without purposely getting a burn on my arm to dissuade the Gamemakers from thinking I'm able to beat them". Because the latter definition of "safe" does not apply here.

I also let my bag of meltable supplies, the one just outside of the crater, get caught up in the lava. The other backpacks were already on me, in case I'd have to run from something quickly, so I still have a few days' worth of food. I didn't lose my weapon, either.

So, I still have a lot of supplies, so I don't look like an unprepared idiot, but I still got injured, so I don't look like I'm trying to beat the Gamemakers.

Because that's the last thing I want. If you make an enemy out of the tributes, there's not much of a difference since they all need you dead, anyway. If you make an enemy of your sponsors, you lose promise of supplies. But if you make an enemy of the Gamemakers, you're dead for sure. They don't want to be shown up. The whole purpose of the Hunger Games is to show we district people are helpless against the whims of the Capitol. So if it seems we're not, even for a second, things'll get a whole lot worse. The Gamemakers control just about everything here. You can't escape.

But you can survive if you do everything right.

And that's what I'm hoping to do. I've studied the Games since 11. I can't say I know everything about the Gamemakers—they're a twisted bunch of people, and the group switches out a few members from year to year—but I definitely have a good idea of how things work around here. If a certain time interval sees no deaths, a natural disaster or mutt attack is triggered. If a certain time interval sees nothing interesting at all, such as romances, non-death-related betrayals, confessions, etc., the Gamemakers will force tributes together with similar methods. In the latter case, the disasters and mutts generally aren't as dangerous; they're just hazardous enough to move tributes around without killing them. Because, sure, the Capitol thinks gruesome deaths in general are entertaining, but making the children murder each other instead of just siccing some animals on them is so much juicier.

It's disgusting, what they do. But how would Panem be without the Games? It's impossible to tell. You have to say, it's incredibly effective in keeping down rebellions. 45 years since the beginning of the competition, and still going smoothly. The Capitol's still well-off—they have enough free time to watch the Games and enough money to follow all of their fashion trends—and the districts still work for them. The Peacekeepers still have enough power and enough loyalty to keep dissenters in line. It seems like a pretty stable system. Horrible, but stable.

Of course, it'll fall eventually. Everything does. Everything from the first civilisations on Earth to the countries around the world from centuries ago. Panem will fall, too. Eventually, things will break down. Maybe the Peacekeepers will rebel. Maybe the amount of control will gradually weaken until the districts think it's time to rebel themselves. Maybe the Capitol citizens will become aware of the evils of the Hunger Games and bring it to a stop.

But whatever happens, it won't be soon. It won't affect me. I'll be long dead—one way or the other—by the time change comes. So, right now, I only need to worry about right now. My life. It may be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it's significant right now.

And I plan on keeping it.