Okay, taking my time this time. Breath. They won't riot if you don't post right away. At least I hope. *Gulp*

Oh, and I have a secret. Can't say, but if you venture, you'll find. Think about it. I won't name it quite yet.

Robyn Achene, District 11 Tribute

My body spazzed about, dodging and swaying away from the tirade of blows flitting from Westy's sword. This wasn't a moment for sarcasm. Which means a lot.

Finally, I managed to hook her foot, yanking back with the scythe. She yelped with pain, but managed to come in with a swift swipe of her blade. Ooow...that hurt.

The blow knocked me back a few feet, a shred of skin flapping slighty from my stomach. Blood seeped through my t-shirt, painting it a crimson red.

"Drale..." My voice trailed off, sweeping my blade to keep the Career at bay. "I need some help here."

"Kind of busy!" His voice came out strained, and I found him grappling with Asshat (where the hell did he come from...?). Westria hopped onto her feet in amazing show of agility. What the hell am I going to do?

She leapt forward, shoving me down. The tips of her hair tickled at my face and I worked hard to reach for my scythe.

My hand wrapped around something metal. Taking it up, I shoved the object at Westy, nailing her dead in the eye. The strike dazed her enough to make her crumple backwards.

"Shut up!" She screamed, yanking the fork from her eye. Both her hands banged the side of her temples and it scared me a bit. Three people were dead. We were down to, what, seven? Now one of the tributes were losing it. Yay.

Drale managed to wrap his arms around Trey's neck, and they struggled for control, the winning side wavering with every passing moment. The two Sixes darted from the tunnel they had traveled, skirting about the action. Thanks for the help!

My head swam from fatigue and loss of blood. Blurred figures danced in my vision but I blinked it clear.

Something metal banged against my foot and I looked down to find a blinking red disc. Nerves and adrenaline coursed through my veins as I kicked it away towards. it became a very intense came of hot potatoe, Westy tossing it back and me nudging it towards her.

Westy, frustrated, grabbed the mine, throwing it hard down a tunnel. The sound of a girl grunting with exertion echoed down, a body sliding away and the loud BOOM! a bomb or whatever the hell that was.

An angry shout called after words.

And for a moment, I actually couldn't think of a sarcastic comment. Because the voice sounded lost and empty. And broken. So broken.

Allie Manson, District 8 Tribute

I twisted around and found the boy from 6 huddled in a ball. Uneasily, I crept forward, finding his fists dug into the sockets of his eyes as he forced back the tears.

"No, no, no, no." His fist slammed against the cave wall. "FUCK!" Sobs worked their way out, and I found him actually over the limp body of his district partner. Her large round eyes fluttered open. Both her legs were gone and the reflex churn of my stomach rumbled.

"You were one of the greatest friends I ever had." Her voice was light an airy, barely a whisper. The boy shook his head, gathering her remains in his arms.

"No, you can heal yourself," his head shook, tears streaming down his filthy cheeks. "We'll stop the bleeding. You-"

"I love you, Dorian. Remember that the world is beautiful, and remember the colors." From her pocket, she pulled a book. Her sketch book, I believe. "Take care."

The boy, Dorian, choked back a sob. His voice calmed enough for him to say, "But it won't be the same Arianne. Not without you." He leaned down and kissed her.

The rumbling earshattering cannon sounded. Dorian sobbed over the girl's dismantled body. Did I just say dismantled?

I kneeled beside him, hands in my lap. "She pushed me out of the way," he stated, his face contorted in sad rage. "She saved me. And she's dead." Timidly, I draped an arm over his shoulders, letting him sob.

Heartbroken and lost. So, so, lost.

We sat there for a long moment when the ground began to shake, the walls tumbling. Dust kicked up into the air and some strange fog wrapped around us. I climbed to my feet, running off into the action portion of the tunnel, after finding the other way blocked.

"Just go," Dorian said bitterly. "I'll be fine."

My shoulder shrugged and I turned back towards the opening but I couldn't get my feet to move. Too many people have died already. Some i cared about so much. I've never talked to Dorian before but I had to help him.

Gripping his underarms, I heaved up, tugging him along. "Whoa, what are you doing?" his voice crackled.

"Saving your butt. Unless you want me to die too, I suggest you move!" He stumbled onto his feet. The twos duos fighting each other kicked up even more dirt and we stepped into the area.

Then the little section started to rise up, the side tunnels crumpling. Fog seemed to start to drift in around us and I couldn't even see my own hands in front of me.

Drale Shetler, District 10 Tribute

Trey was slightly bigger than me, but I had years of cattle training to build me up myself. When fog started to float, I had slid out from underneath him, rolling several feet. I couldn't find any one. My hand brushed against someone else's.

A fork jabbed into my hand. I answered with a typical response, yelling in pain.

"Oh, sorry, Drale," Robyn's voice floated through to me. "You're not dead, right?"

"No, I'm fine," I said, gripping her hand in mine. Suddenly two hands clasped onto my shoulders, tossing me to the side.

Trey heavy breath breathed in my face. Two words; breath mints. I've been hanging around Robyn way too often.

Asshat gripped my neck, closing tight. I attempted to jerk him off but he just squeezed tighter, banging my head against the stone ground. A sharp point seemed to slicing into the back of my head and it dazed my vision every so slightly.

"Who's the man?"

"Trey," I choked out. "Don't be a cow."

Finally he let go, punching me hard in the side of the face. "What you call me?"

I slid away, swiping away a few shaggy strands of hair. "I didn't call you anything. Just suggested you not be a cow. You're already an Asshat."

The boy roared with rage, pulling his ax over and raising it over his head. His hate filled eyes bored into me.

Suddenly, I found the eyes staring at me from my lap. And the wet feeling of blood.

"Night-night, you sick twisted bastard." Robyn's voice muttered throught the fog, her bloody scythe visible at my feet.

"Cow," I coughed. "Sick, twisted cow."

Standing, I found Robyn's face startling close to mine. She smiled awkwardly, but the slid downwards, yelping.

I tried to grab her but she was already gone. A cannon fired. Robyn?

Several other cannon's fired, people calling out in shock. My own feet started to sink but I tumbled to the side, away from the hazardous ground.

What the fuck is going on?

I'll just let the death count go. Things gotta stay mysterious. I know this chapter is short, but this is what I've kind of been leading up too.

I have a secret...remember that. And be curious. I'm telling you, the answer is literally a scroll and click away.