Author's Note: Okay, y'all. We're getting down to the nubbins and all bets are off. Things are going to get confusing this chapter, so I'm investing in an extra bit of editing to be as sure as I can that the events that follow are as clear as possible. We're also progressing a bit faster than I thought, so I'm changing the poll to who you think will be the victor. Yes, at the end of this chapter we'll be down to our final 3. On that note, read closely and pay attention to details that the tributes might miss, listen to the cannons and watch the sky. Because of the nature of POVs being from tributes' perspectives, they may be inherently based on what that tribute *believes* to be the case. We have fallible narrators; they cannot always be trusted.

Also: warning this is a LONG chapter. There was no good place to split it that didn't awkwardly chop up the action.

Note on the tributes's feast gifts: Thank you for everyone who gave me ideas. Some of these came from submitters and some came from my own devices. Some of them might not be clear by the end of the chapter, so at the end I'll write out a list of who received what and it's current (as of the end of the chapter) location. Some of these completely change the tide here.

Final note: things get a bit gorier, so I'm upping the rating just to be safe. This was a difficult chapter, so I'm sorry and you're welcome, whichever you prefer.

Final final note: Please vote in my victor poll, who you think will be the victor. Please read the chapter first. Since we'll be down to the final 3. This will be the last poll and last chapter before the finale.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.

Unluckily Lead:

Raivel Aukins – District 3

"You have to go," Raivel encouraged his new ally. He didn't feel nearly as confident trusting Ridge as he would have with Bailey or Mobie, but, as he saw it, he didn't have much of a choice. He had to get medicine somehow if he wanted to survive. He'd used the medicine he had to save Ridge, now maybe it was time for him to return the favor. Raivel had, reluctantly, accepted that there was no way he was going to make it to the Cornucopia, especially after the announcement that it had been moved to the complete other side of the arena. He'd have to trust his new ally, both his abilities and his word.

Ridge nodded in agreement, but Raivel could see the hesitation in his eyes.

"Everyone else is going to be there," Ridge pointed out, his voice faltering. Raivel knew what must be going through his mind. Did he stand a chance? With several strong players remaining what could a boy like him do against them, especially if the pair that had already attacked him were still together. They could do a lot of damage; they'd both already seen that.

Raivel waited for the question that he suspected was coming: what's in it for me? Ridge wanted to get back to his sister; that's why Raivel had tried to save him in the first place. But now that he was on the mend, would he really be willing to go right back, putting his own life on the line? Why would he risk going into the mess of things?

"There's a secret passage," Raivel broke the silence again. "There are paths underneath the Cornucopia. They lead all the way across the arena, from this end to the other. They'll get you to the mountain unseen. I think they even lead within the mountain itself. You should be able to get in and out without being noticed, without even being in danger. There's an entrance not far from here in the hole nearest to the sanctuary entrance."

Ridge's expression lightened a bit. The idea of crossing unseen made him more at ease. Was that enough, though, Raivel wondered?

"Okay." Ridge answered the unspoken question. "Raivel, you saved me, I owe you. I'll bring back your medicine and whatever they've given me too. It'll be a piece of cake." Ridge had already lightened up.

"And if you happen to take down some folks in the process, well, you've got to do what you've got to do, right?" Raivel suggested, trying to keep positive. "Thank you," he said, trying not to wince as he moved his leg. Ridge rose and Raivel suddenly felt afraid. He would be alone again, leaving his fate in the hands of one of his allies, just as Bailey had when he left her. Would he share her fate?

"Here," Ridge offered, seeing Raivel squirm. "Stay by the pond until I get back. You'll be out of sight and have water. Maybe you can even catch a fish if you get hungry." The older boy picked him up effortlessly and placed him gently beside the pool. He rose to leave again, but then leaned back down and embraced Raivel gently.

"Thank you again for saving me. I'll be back soon."

"I'll see you then," and with that Ridge was gone. Raivel settled into the darkness to wait.

Nero Taplin – District 2

Nero fought to keep his eyes open. The announcement of the feast might have changed his entire game plan. Here at the Cornucopia he would have had the advantage. Nero clutched his hands in frustration. It wasn't fair. The feasts in the past had always been at the Cornucopia, not in a random part of the arena. That was most of the point of having a Cornucopia, to have an attractive target. Had the Gamemakers picked a favorite tribute? Someone who was already on the mountain? The couldn't have! Surely he would have been favored instead of anyone remaining. The boy from 11, the pair from 8, Jonas from 7 his district partner and the boy from 3. They were all that remained, just the seven of them. How could he not be the favored one among them?

It didn't matter, Nero thought. The decision had been made. Now all he had to do was decide whether or not to go.

It might be better to remain at the real Cornucopia, Nero reflected, allow the others to fight it out and then pick up the remnants as they fled. With his long range on the bow that certainly seemed the better option. Even from this distance he might be able to get a good angle on them if they escaped near the Cornucopia. And in that he could show the Gamemakers their error. He had worked hard to keep the Cornucopia and he deserved to be recognized for his efforts.

Then again, what if this was a test. If he didn't go, would he fall out of favor with any sponsored he had garnered? He wished he knew the answer. This had been so much easier when he had his allies to bounce ideas off of, to use their strengths. Now, without Jonas or Saphyra, he was all alone with his thoughts.

His eyes drooped and he pinched himself to remain focused. He was so tired. Keeping the Cornucopia without allies was certainly a challenge. Yet he had to remain vigilant. Perhaps just before dawn, when all of the other tributes would be rushing to the mountain, perhaps then he could allow himself a little rest.

He clutched his blanket a little closer as a chill breeze whipped around him. It was even more difficult to pay attention when it was cold.

Then Nero saw something that made him do a double take. He rubbed his eyes, pinched himself, certain that he had been asleep, that he was slipping into a nightmare. He clutched the torch he still held beside him, straining to see better in the darkness, unwilling to believe his eyes. He even took a couple of steps forward, to where the Cornucopia should be, waiting to feel it in his fingers. After a moment, he kicked the nearest stone in frustration as he realized what he feared he had seen had truly happened. The Cornucopia had disappeared. In its place was sheer emptiness. There were no more supplies, no more weapons, nothing. All he had was what remained in his hands. He clenched his fists. It seemed his decision had been made for him.

Jonas Tanner – District 7

He detested being quiescent, Jonas thought as he roused himself. Some time ago he had forced himself to slumber in order to press his advantage for the forthcoming skirmish. In the darkness, his concept of time had been entirely disoriented and the time of day had become increasingly abstruse. The only thing of which he was utterly confident was that, for the moment, he endured and he was still a contender.

Unfortunately, despite the shining rope from his defunct opponent, he was still a somewhat lost competitor. Subsequent to the proclamation of the feast, Jonas had deliberated, concluding that then would be ab anodyne opportunity to repose. Given the morning's impending festivities the other tributes would, indubitably be taking advantage of the same opportunity to prepare themselves, whether by increasing their proximity to the new location or strategizing in other manners.

With a clearer head, Jonas endeavored to scrutinize his alternatives. He could attempt to encounter the other contenders at the feast. That, however, would require localizing the mountain in a limited amount of time. He estimated his current position to be beneath the Cornucopia pillars. However, given the deficiency of any illumination penetrating the fissures of the cave, it was improbable that there were any paths to the surface in his vicinity. If that was the case, his success would depend upon navigating the conduits until he was able to emerge at the surface.

This wasn't a decision for which he had been primed. He had prepared for killing, betrayal, strategy, but never for ambiguity. He had to find a way back into the fray. But how? He detested the idea of wandering but equally distained simply waiting out whatever fate was preordained for him. Yet it seemed these were his two options and he would once again take the less vile of the two.

Jonas rose, attempting to gather his bearings, grasping his sword in his right hand and the rope in his left. When he had encountered the girl from three he had been approaching from what would have been her left. That meant the river was to his right. Was the mountain in that direction as well? Prior to his descent, he thought the mountain had been at his back. Had it, though? His attention to detail was superior, but now, when his next steps could depend on his exceptional recollection of a factor that, at the time, had seemed inconsequential he couldn't help but second guess himself.

"The massif was behind me," Jonas whispered aloud, permitting the audience access to his inner monologue. "But when I fell, did I fall unswervingly or was I rotated around?" He had to appear certain, he decided. The words had reinvigorated his resolve and Jonas turned to the right, keeping snug to the surface of the cave wall.

Splash. Behind him Jonas made out the unmistakable sound of footfalls, footfalls trudging through the river at his back. He no longer had the luxury of seclusion. He grasped his sword, and then reflected. If this tribute knew his way, he could follow whoever it was to the surface, rather than immediately eliminating them. He would only use the sword if he was attacked first, Jonas decided, but he needed to remain as elusive as possible. He scarcely breathed as the sloshing footsteps grew nearer. Either this tribute preferred walking through water or they hadn't discovered the path beside the river.

Soon enough the footfalls were immediately in front of him. Jonas could scarcely see the outline of a tall, skinny tribute trudging determinedly at a very rapid pace. That figure, however, didn't seem to notice Jonas, constrained against the wall, and continued onwards in the same direction. Jonas waited a few moments until the other tribute was a safe distance ahead, but still close enough to follow, and then set off in the same direction, presumably headed for the peak at the edge of the arena.

Margery Kelta – District 8

The dawn was quickly approaching and Margery could feel the adrenaline racing in her body. Soon they would get a second change at the bloodbath. That was, after all, essentially what a feast was. The Gamemakers wanted them all together again; anyone who couldn't sense they were being manipulated into this was fooling themselves. With only seven of them remaining, surely the Gamemakers wanted some action. They didn't just want to see a fight for the Cornucopia, especially not when that wouldn't lure out whoever was still on the outskirts. Hopefully the other tributes would be smart enough to heed the summons.

She and Leoric would be ready, though. They had been alternating between walking and resting all night so they could both be as prepared as possible. Now all that remained was for them was to climb the mountain.

"Do we climb it in the dark?" Margery asked. She didn't want to look like a coward if she was the one who said no, yet she recalled Altair tumbling to her death, with some assistance, in broad daylight. Surely some of the boulders were not as stable as they appeared. If Leoric expressed reluctance, though, he was the one who would look bad, not her.

Leoric was hesitating, probably thinking the same thing. Then he looked over his shoulder.

"Yes," he declared his voice certain. She was shocked at the determination in his voice, but then he gave her a look and she too, glanced behind them. Instantly she knew why he'd been so decisive. About halfway between themselves and the Cornucopia was a lone figure, visible only by the torch attached to his arm, fully illuminating the bow and arrow in his hand.

"We have to," Margery agreed and together they both approached the base.

"You should go first. You're lighter. That way if I jiggle a boulder it won't come down on you," Leoric instructed. Margery agreed, settling herself in for the climb, refusing to think of what happened if they failed, or if they didn't ascend quickly enough. She fixed her eyes on the next boulder up, blocking her mind to everything else, to the tributes below her and the cries of a beast above her. The only thing that mattered right now was the climb.

Ridge Therne – District 11

Ridge could see the ledge and, on top of it, all of the bags with their labels. He could hardly believe he'd actually made it. The last stretch of the path had been a very steep and narrow route in sheer darkness and Ridge had doubted Raivel's directions so much that he had nearly turned back. Now, though, he had the advantage. Dawn was nearly there and there were no other tributes on the ledge.

A smile spread across his face as he emerged triumphant into the sun. The fresh breeze on his face was a breath of relief. After so many hours in the damp darkness, he once again felt his familiar freedom. He was so delighted he wanted to laugh aloud out of sheer joy.

Except his quest was only half complete. He was here, but now he had to locate Raivel's medicine and his own bag, whatever that was. He spotted Raivel's first, marked with a "3" as the only district 3 tribute remaining. He grabbed that, scanning the other bags, marked 2, 7, 7M, 8F, 8 and then, at last, Ridge spotted his own, clearly marked 11. He breathed a sigh of relief as he grabbed it, the furthest one from the entrance. Even as he moved he felt something brush his feet. A snake? No, whatever it was moved more quickly, more lightly than a snake. He barely saw it, but a rope whipped out from the tunnel from which he had just emerged himself and disappeared again, along with one of the bags from 7. Had another tribute been following him? Surely that was the only explanation.

Ridge began to panic. If there was another tribute in the tunnels, they had certainly just gotten a weapon. He couldn't go back that way, not caught at unawares and especially not with such precious cargo. From further below on the mountain, he could hear a scuffle. Someone was coming up that way too. He was trapped.

Then he heard the cry from the air. The mutt had returned. But it was already nearly daylight. Would it fly him away from here? Ridge couldn't hope to be that lucky. The mutt landed, but, instead of thrusting him onto its back it engulfed Ridge in a giant hug. As the sunlight broke the crest of the mountain, Ridge began to understand; the creature wasn't flying him away, it was entrapping him, hopefully protecting him until everyone else had safely left. He considered struggling as he felt the creature turn to stone around him and the two bags in his hands, but, very quickly decided this was his best option. Now he would only have to hope he was right, for both his and Raivel's sakes.

Leoric Hughes – District 8

They were nearly to the peak when an arrow clinked off of the boulder beside him, just inches from his hand. Leoric didn't dare look down; he already knew Nero was closing in on them. Once they were at the top they would be safer, though, once there were boulders separating them he would have to choose to come after them.

But what awaited them once they did get to the peak? For all he knew some of the other tributes were already there. Margery had been so certain they would be the first, but he couldn't help but wonder if some of the stealthier ones had found another way.

He couldn't worry about that, though. He was inches from the brink. Margery was already up and running. She hadn't waited to make sure he got up okay. Was this where they were splitting? Was he on his own?

Leoric hesitated and looked back. Nero was already scaling the boulders. His training was obviously benefiting him as he was progressing much more surely than Leoric had. He had to move.

Even with that thought, the boulder in his left hand went tumbling down. Startled, he clung to the one on his right with both hand. The boulder fell far from the other tribute, who seemed completely unfazed.

"Come on!" he heard Margery holler from the top. "There's something you've got to see." So she was waiting for him, and pretty close by judging by her voice. That was all he needed. Grasping the next couple of boulders, Leoric propelled himself up.

"We're not the first," Margery whispered. She was right. Of the seven bags that should have awaited them, three were already gone.

"How's that possible?" Leoric questioned, baffled.

"Nero's," Margery accounted for, pointing to the bag from three. "The one from three, seven and eleven are gone. I think the two little orphan rodents from three and seven were working together. They must have snuck in. They're so little they could have found any way in."

"But not Ridge," Leoric said, determinedly. "He's fast, but we would have seen him."

"Leo," Margery hissed as she picked up her bag, marked 8F. He saw it too; the mutt that seemed to be so fond of Ridge was frozen in stone with a string hanging out of it, as though it had eaten him.

"There hasn't been a cannon, so he's still alive," Leoric whispered. How had he survived that beating? He'd left the boy for dead, but he wouldn't make the same mistake this time. He opened his bag, smiling. His gift would help immensely, he realized as he unveiled a large mace.

Margery's gift was equally lethal, a crossbow with several bolts. There weren't enough of them for her to waste them on risky shots, he thought, but with a well-placed blow . . .

"We've got some business to take care of," Leoric resolved, snatching up the boy from 7's bag and hoisting it over his back.

"I'll help," Margery volunteered, as though reading his mind. "Many hands make light work."

Leoric smiled, raised his mace and with the first blow decapitated the mutt. Its neck was solid, as though the jagged edges of the outside were just a façade covering a compact interior. Margery helped taking on one of the arms. This shattered and a drop of blood dribbled to the rock. His next blow, combined with hers, must have hit a vital fault or artery, whatever thoe mutts had for the creature shattered into smithereens sending slivers or rock every which way. Only the beast's massive wings remained intact, clattering to the ground. Their suspicions were confirmed as blood flowed from the remains of the statue, as though a body too had been crushed beyond recognition, and a cannon sounded. Leoric smiled in triumph, only to feel himself knocked to the ground. He'd completely forgotten Nero, he realized in a terrifying instant. Now the other boy was upon him!

"Shoot him!" Leoric shouted to Margery. In his mix of fury and confusion he could barely see as he struggled to regain his feet. His head was spinning from the impact and he thought he heard a beeping noise, slow at first, but quickening rapidly.

"Leo get back!" he heard Margery shout, but not before he felt another punch to his face. He stumbled back and felt his footing give way. He wasn't on solid ground anymore, but falling through the air. Then, all of a sudden he felt a great gust of wind thrust him even more quickly to the ground and then everything went black to the sound of a cannon.

Leoric was utterly confounded when he opened his eyes. He had been certain the cannon had been his own, but he was lying on his back, staring at the deceptively blue sky. How long had he been there? Where was he? And, most importantly, what had happened? He assessed the damage, still not daring to get off of his back. He still had the mace, a mace covered in Ridge's blood. A good distance away he saw what he thought was the base of the mountain. The blast had knocked him that far! It must have been some sort of bomb. Yes, the beeping, the explosion, that would make sense.

And the cannon! If it hadn't been his, then whose? Ridge's had already sounded. Was it Margery's? No, she had warned him to get away, so she must have realized there was a bomb too, must have heard the same noise he had. Then Nero's. Nero was dead! Leoric breathed a sigh of relief as the pieces fell into place. The last trained tribute in the arena was gone. Now he just had four more enemies, four more cannons and he could go home.

Bailey Thermes – District 7

That boy wasn't going anywhere. Bailey had taken cover in one of the nearby holes when she had heard the explosion. She had still seen it, though. Most of the top of the mountain had been blown asunder. This boy had been thrown, flying from the mountain. It was unbelievable that he was alive.

She'd been glad she hadn't made it to the mountain this morning. She had thought about it, but then thought better, wondering what the Gamemakers could possibly have put in her pack to entice her there. She couldn't think of a single thing. They wouldn't resurrect her allies. No, it had been the smarter decision to remain where she was and wait for the stronger tributes to fight it out.

Which it seemed they had done. The two cannons had signaled the falling of two tributes and now there were none besides this one in sight, this boy, fallen on his back.

He was older than she, clearly. She couldn't remember his name or his district, but now there was only one thing that mattered: he was going to die.

Bailey clutched her knife tightly, her resolve firm. She could approach him; stab him before he even fully regained conscious.

She popped out of her hole. Her legs trembled, but she forced them to move forward. She could do this; she had to do it if she was going home.

Then it happened. He sat up on his back, still stunned. He hadn't seen her yet; his back was still to her, but she had to make her move now. She was still a good distance away. She forced her legs to pick up speed.

She was almost there when he turned. She froze. Bailey had never seen the face of someone she was about to kill before. Now, petrified just a few feet from the older boy she looked into his dark eyes, his dark hair and could feel her pulse raising. Was this how the person who had killed her father had felt? Had they had second thoughts?

"It's okay," the older boy coaxed, his voice soft. He put a bag down beside him, a bag with a number 7 on it. Her bag! "I'm not going to hurt you."

Even as he said it, Bailey didn't believe him. He had a mace in his hand still; he was a threat and he had to be dealt with.

Her hand shook as she raced at him. Even as she charged, she saw him set the mace down, but it was too late; she caught him off guard, whether still shaken up from his collision with the ground or whether he hadn't believed her capable of harming him she wasn't sure. She didn't care as she plunged the knife into his chest. The boy coughed blood, splattering it in her face as he desperately struggled, his eyes wide with fear.

"Please," he managed, but that was all he said before she yanked the knife from his chest and stabbed it through his windpipe. There was a gasp as his last breath escaped him, rattling his body as he struggled and then the cannon sounded.

She collapsed even as she heard it, her entire body trembling. She couldn't bear to look at his face, his eyes still open. His brown eyes. Her father had brown eyes. She had brown eyes. Was she destined to kill only people who reminded her of those close to her? Mobie, this boy, this nameless boy. But he'd had a name, she reflected as she stared at his eyes, staring sightlessly back at her. He had a name and a face.

"He did have a name," she whispered, compelling her voice to settle, forcing her limbs to be still. "Now he doesn't. He'll be forgotten by everyone, except for me."

She sat there for a moment, still standing. They would come for the body soon. But she needed to remember this. With so few tributes in the arena and no allies, she needed a reminder of what she could do, of what she would have to do in order to make it out. She fingered her knife again.

"You'll be safe with me. I've got a good memory," she said as she dug the knife in and made an incision below his face. She maneuvered it carefully, as though she was carving a sculpture. His blood dripped over her fingers, even though his heart had stopped beating his clotting blood still flowed. It was odd how a body did that, she reflected, as she made the final snips behind the ears. At last her work was completed, the skin of the face completely removed. She couldn't take the eyes, but she would remember them, she vowed as she closed them. They looked out of place with the rest of the interior exposed, the muscles uncovered, shown for their true selves, but that was better. At least now she could be certain of her path. She now was showing the Capitolites that she was capable of doing what her parents could not; come home.

As though on cue, the gruesome carcass vanished in darkness. The mask she had made though remained in her hands, stable and confident. It was just as much a weapon as whatever lay in the bag.

The bag! Bailey had nearly forgotten it, but before her still lay the 7 bag. It was as though she had gone to the feast herself without the danger. Perhaps she should thank the boy. No, she stopped herself. She didn't owe him anything. Even if she had, it was far too late to repay him.

But he wasn't going to hurt you, her conscience nagged. His face, whole and alive flashed before her eyes as he had been as she attacked. He had been putting down the mace. She could have let him go. No, Bailey forced the voice back. Mercy had been her parents' weakness, they had both died. She would not make the same mistake. Now she opened her bag, only to close it again in confusion.

She would worry about that later. Now she needed to find shelter again. She needed rest and to recover for the last round. And she knew exactly where to go. Lifting the mace and her own bag, complete with the boy's face she set off for her sanctuary.

Mags Cohen – District 4 Mentor

Mags forced herself to watch the screen as Leoric's body mercifully disappeared. She bit her lip, forcing her stomach to not be squeamish. After what Excelcia had done she feared showing any weakness. Her fellow district mentor stood beside her, clearly impressed by what Bailey had just done.

"Beautifully done. Finally someone from seven with potential." Excelcia crooned. Mags braced as Excelcia was pouring salt in a wound. Beside her, even Echo looked uncomfortable, though that may just have been because of Nero's death. Compared to Bailey's actions, though, his explosion and the aftermath thereof had been kind, no desecration of his body and a quick death. Sometimes that was all anyone could ask for.

Excelcia smirked, closing in on Aeden again. Mags moved closer, in case she made another move.

"Oh relax," Excelcia laughed. "I just wanted to tell you, you should be proud, Sanderling." Aeden's face was already pale, his eyes not daring to move from the screen. Excelcia may have robbed him of his physical touch, but his emotions seemed more heightened than ever. He was clearly fighting nausea and it was a fight he wasn't going to win. He dashed from the room, presumably towards the nearest restroom.

Excelcia looked pleased with herself, until Esthelrir came up to her.

"Excelcia, I am warning you, one last time. Stop being a bully and leave Aeden alone," he said simply, his voice icy. Excelcia smiled in reply.

"He's right," Echo seconded. "You've put him through enough."

"He still has to get through this," Mags thought she heard Excelcia mutter.

She sat back, settling in to watch the rest of the afternoon, a strong drink in her hand and Esthelrir and Leunam at her side.

"I'm sorry about Ridge," Mags whispered, unsure of what else to say.

"Thank you," Eshthelrir replied. The room was silent, as it usually was when the numbers dwindled. Four of them remained now, only four, yet most of the mentors were still here. Even Steric was close to sober, though she had treated herself to a drink in honor of Mobie, a very strong drink that she seemed to still be nursing. If Steric was strong enough to stay here to the end all by herself after so many years, so could she, Mags thought.

"Ster," Mags thought she heard the barkeep whisper. "I really want you to be wrong." And she wasn't completely sure about the response, but Mags thought she heard Steric whisper "This time, so do I."

Raivel Aukins – District 3

Raivel wasn't aware of much besides the burning feeling in his leg. The pain was almost insufferable now; it had been excruciating since dawn and had only gotten worse. If Ridge was coming back, he was going to have to do so soon. As positive as he was trying to be, Raivel wasn't sure how much longer he could last.

He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for most of the day, staying beside the pool to try to keep cool. He was certain now that his leg wasn't just broken, but that it had become infected. He certainly had a fever, which, given the circumstances, meant only one thing: now, more than ever, his only hope was that Ridge would return.

That hope was becoming dimmer and dimmer. He'd heard at least one cannon since the feast this morning and a lot of other loud sounds. There had probably been more cannons, but he couldn't be certain. Since there was little for him to do besides sit around and wait, Raivel hadn't kept track as well as he should have. For all he knew Ridge was dead at this very moment.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something shiny in the shallow portion of the pool. In the most movement he had exerted in the last 12 hours he reached out and grabbed it. In the light of the setting sun, the penny shone with a reddish tint. Raivel clutched it tightly. He thought he remembered Ridge saying something about his coin, a long time ago, or had it been last night? With fire in his head it was hard to remember anything before the time he had been in pain, hard to even remember a couple of days ago, hard to remember his ally's faces.

Bailey's face. She was gone, now, he was certain, she wouldn't have left for so long without returning. He must have missed her face in the sky. How terrible of him! She had been his friend, his only family and he would never get to say a proper goodbye. The same with Ridge, he realized, as he clutched the coin. He would pay attention now, because deep in his heart, Raivel feared this coin was a message from the Gamemakers: Ridge was dead, no help was coming for him. He wouldn't miss his ally's face in the sky this time. Then he would accept that there would be no one to watch for him.

No one except the audience. If the tributes were as limited in numbers as he figured, they were in the final five or six. With Ailis dead, he was district three's last tribute. If only he could get someone to send him medicine, he still had a fighting chance.

"Please," he managed to say, careful to keep his voice confident. "I can do this. You'll watch me come home and I'll help everyone in district three. I'll put up a monument in Ailis's memory, I'll help my fellow orphans, I'll be the best victor district three has ever had, no offense Leunam and Iris. I've fought so far, now I need you to get me a little further. Then I can do the rest."

He smiled widely despite the pain, knowing the cameras must be on him. He could only keep it up for a moment, though; the pain was becoming that unrelenting.

"Please hurry," he said aloud. He didn't care if he sounded scared, if he sounded desparate; he was. For the first time he could feel himself losing hope as he began to shiver. It was getting colder. He couldn't know what death felt like, he'd never seen it, but he had an unsettling feeling that he was about to find out.

A whooshing noise came and, at first Raivel though a parachute had fallen. He looked around, though and saw nothing. Just that simple movement set his head spinning and he had to settle down again.

It was the end, he knew as he felt a wave of cold washing over him. It was almost welcome after the burning heat that had tormented him for most of the day. If only it had taken away the pain. His eyes teared up, but he bit his lip. If he was dying here, now, he was going to do it with some dignity. He breathed, each breath seeming to grow shallower.

Then he heard something. He wouldn't move, wouldn't risk the feeling of nausea that accompanied his every movement. It wasn't worth it now. Now he just wanted peace, freedom from the pain.

He shouldn't have given Ridge the medicine. It had been meant for Bailey and she was dead. But now he'd given it to Ridge and he was dead. And now, because he'd cared for his allies, he would be dead too. He shouldn't have cared for any of them, shouldn't have gotten a family. If he'd only cared about himself, he wouldn't be dying right now.

"Raivel," he heard Bailey's voice. She was calling to him from beyond the arena. So there was something after this! He could only hope it would be better. He was so close now. He could feel his final breath closing in, even as he felt a hand on his. Then he saw Bailey's face, her brown eyes filled with concern. "It's okay," she whispered and that was the last thing he knew. It was okay, he thought, smiling contentedly as he joined her, his own cannon sounding in the distance.

Leunam Valeres – District 3

"Damn it!" Leunam swore as the cannon sounded, allowing himself to pound his fist on the table just once. He'd been so close, closer than Raivel himself had realized. The last couple of hours Leunam had been furiously working to get the one thing Raivel had needed, even before his tribute had asked the audience. He had rallied sponsors, begged and pleaded, called in every favor he had and then some to get a second bottle of medicine. It had been difficult enough to get the first one, and, if it hadn't been for the urgency of the feast, he certainly wouldn't have been able to procure the first until the afternoon. But, given the circumstances, sponsors had been more than willing this morning. After Ridge's tragic failure, most sponsors had been more reluctant, skeptical that, even if Raivel had been in full health, that he could have held his own against the others.

Ping, ping, ping, the fruits of his labors floated down into the sanctuary, where Raivel's body still lay. But it was too late. His cannon had sounded already.

"Why was he smiling?" Leunam managed to ask, deflecting from what he saw on the screen as, slowly but surely the truth was dawning on Bailey. He didn't want to see her guilt over what had happened, that wouldn't do anyone any good. He didn't want to see her descend any further into the darkness that consumed her because he'd been just moments too late.

"He went home," Iris replied simply, quietly enough so only the two of them could hear. Leunam sighed, knowing she was right. He'd thought he had been re-joining Bailey in death. "If he wasn't going to come out, that was the way to go. He was at peace."

"This is why I keep you around," Leunam managed to joke, giving Iris a big hug. Now he just had one more person he had to put at peace.

He rose, trying to find Aeden. After having left the room earlier, presumably with a justifiably queasy stomach, he'd been keeping his distance from the other mentors. Leunam was fairly certain Esthelrir was helping the poor guy in any way he could sponsors, especially since two of his tributes still remained. Aeden had been through hell the last couple of days and if there was anything Leunam could do to lighten his burden he would.

"Hey," he greeted Aeden who was slumped his chair. He plopped down in the chair across from him that Esthelrir had vacated not long before. " I hope she does him proud," Leunam said, instinctually extending a hand to Aeden. "I'm sorry," he immediately apologized, remembering the he no longer had any physical feeling. "I'm rooting for her, my friend."

"Me too," Aeden whispered vaguely, actually meeting Leunam's eyes, though it seemed like a struggle. Just as he did, Leunam heard Iris whisper in his ear "don't let him look". And when he saw the screen on the wall behind Aeden, he knew why.

Bailey had begun to break down, tears flowing from her eyes, her body shaking. Her lips were moving, but she didn't seem like she could speak. She cradled Raivel's lifeless body, her eyes wide in disbelief. Any shadow of the killer who had not that long ago ended Leoric's life was erased for the moment. All he could see was a traumatized girl, mourning a great loss. More than the loss of Raivel, though, he could see in her face the loss of her parents from ages ago, the loss of her innocence and, the most terrifying the loss of herself.

Raivel's body, mercifully began to fade in her arms.

"No, no," her voice broke the silence as the cameras focused in on her. "Come back. Come back! What have I done? What have I done?"

Aeden turned, trepidation in eyes as he recognized Bailey's voice. All eyes were glued to the screen as Bailey's hands shook. She didn't seem to know what to grab first, but she settled on the parachute that had just floated to the ground. She pried it open to find the medicine meant for Raivel, as Leunam had known she would. Amid her tears she managed a laugh, a terrible, terrible laugh that sent shivers down the mentor's spine. Bailey clearly could see the irony in this; it was medicine that had sent Raivel on his quest to save her, a quest she had believed had claimed his life. In the end, though, this medicine, she held in her hand, had come just moments too late to save his life, but could still help her.

"I'm not scared of shadows anymore," she laughed, putting down the medicine. As if to confirm that, a shadow passed over her face and the look of the killer returned, the look she'd had on her face when she'd killed Mobie, killed Leoric. Then she opened her bag from the feast and brought forth a small button. In her other hand, she brought forth Leoric's face, the skin she had toted with her the entire afternoon. She began glopping some of the medicine on it and then she pushed the button. "No, I'm not afraid of the shadows. I am the shadows."

Margery Kelta – District 8

Another cannon! Margery steadied herself. She'd been looking for Leoric ever since they had gotten separated, but now the search seemed futile. Even if she were to find him, which seemed less and less likely, she didn't think she'd want to. There had been seven of them this morning; now, four cannons later the final three had been heralded. But who would those final three be? And how could she make sure she was the one of those three who made it out?

After the explosion she had abandoned the mountain peak. There was no longer a strategic advantage there and it was an eerie place to be. She certainly didn't want to be around if the Gamemakers decided that one winged mutt wasn't enough, since that seemed to be their lair. So she had returned to the beginning, and was back at the Cornucopia.

Aside from its height there was no real strategic advantage to its location. All of the weapons and supplies were gone; Margery's only assets were her cross-bow and bolts. She knew that she would need to end this quickly, but had no idea where her opponents were, or, for that matter, who they were. She would simply need to wait until the anthem sounded for the revelation to come. Then she could formulate a plan.

As the sun set she was relieved to not hear any screams from the sky. The mutts were gone. Now it would just be up to the tributes to win this.

The anthem sounded and faces began appearing in the sky. Nero's was first. She'd known he wouldn't survive the explosion. She couldn't have planned it better herself. Who could have known the statue would explode, but thankfully it had given them a beeping countdown. It had been enough for her to get away, to hurry down the mountainside. Nero, though had been so focuses on killing Leoric that he'd stayed there until the end.

Next came the boy from three. That was odd, she would have thought he and the girl from seven had been hiding together. Well, maybe they had been, she thought as she saw the next face: the girl from seven. But who had taken them out? Had Leoric survived the explosion after all and gotten to them? Or had Jonas? Jonas had to be left, since the only face that flashed out after the girl's was Ridge's. She smiled in satisfaction thinking how good it had felt to have her suspicions confirmed with the blood on the ground that had seeped from the statue.

So, the final three: her, Leoric, and Jonas. Now she had to think how to take down an overconfident ass and her own district partner.

Wolfgang Haberdasher – District 8

"What just happened?" Wolf demanded, utterly confused. Clearly the other mentors shared his confusion, confusion that none of the tributes comprehended, at least not two of the remaining three.

"The Gamemakers messed up. If you're going to screw up, now is not the time to do it," Steric commented. "Brutus is going to have somebody's head."

"Well, somebody ought to go straighten them out," Blake argued. But everyone's eyes were glued to the screen. In the falling darkness it was difficult to tell where the tributes were, much less what was going on. For the moment, it seemed like a lot of strategizing from Margery. Jonas too seemed to be formulating a plan, making his way towards the Cornucopia in the darkness, but not before picking up some twigs. There was something in his hand, something he was protecting with the shield that had been in his bag, the shield that had saved him from the explosion when he had covered the entrance to the tunnel.

"The cameraman's screwing up too," Wolf pointed out. "Where's Bailey? It's like she's not even there. The cameras in the sanctuary are completely black. I'm telling Brutus!"

"You can try going to Brutus and complaining, but he's not going to do anything," came a voice from the back of the room. All eyes turned to Cassius.

"What do you mean?" Wolf asked, confronting his fellow mentor. "Margery is out there, we need to make sure she's got her best chance of coming home."

"And that's what I was doing," Cassius commented. "The advantages of some feast gifts are immediately obvious . . . others, well, others leave a little more to the imagination." Cassius slumped back against the wall, as though he was satisfied that he'd provided a full and complete answer to the question. Wolf, however, wasn't. He remained as frustrated and confused as before.

The room was absolutely still, their eyes returned to the screen. So, the sky had been right, Wolf reasoned, from a certain point of view. From the last they had seen from Bailey, maybe she was actually dead, in some sense; her true self was dead, now all that remained was the darkness. And maybe, just maybe, the fact that Margery believed the fantasy that Leoric was still out there might save her life. Or maybe it would seal her fate.

Tributes' Feast gifts: (in district order)

2) Nero Taplin – food (location – blown up in the explosion the mountain

3) Raivel Aukins – medicine (destroyed when the mutt statue was smashed)

7) Jonas Tanner - shield (lassoed by Jonas currently with him making his way towards the Cornucopia)

7) Bailey Thermes – button (taken by Leoric Hughes, believing it to be Jonas's and then re-claimed by Bailey. With her in the 'sanctuary' (presumably))

8) Leoric Hughes – mace (taken by Leoric, then taken by Bailey after she kills him)

8 Margery Kelta – crossbow and bolts (taken by Margery currently with her at the Cornucopia)

11) Ridge Therne – bomb (taken by Ridge & then set to self-destruct after mutt statue was smashed. Exploded, killing Nero)

"I dreamt to-night that I did feast with Caesar,
And things unluckily charge my fantasy:
I have no will to wander forth of doors,
Yet something leads me forth."