District 4: Aquamarine Mer's POV:

It's late afternoon, soon after two cannon blasts - I wonder who died - when a floating piece of ice came over to the shore. I'm from District Four, so naturally I had stuck to the waterside. I had kept away from the water, though. It was cold. Cold enough without being in the icy water.

Then, I noticed a slab of ice drifting to the shore. No tributes on it. It was a good two hundred square feet on the surface. If I could get onto it, no tribute would be able to get me. But if I drifted out...nope. That'd be the end of Aquamarine Mer.

Anyways, it's not like I'm bothered by any others right here.

I've been in the arena for a few days now, and I only started out with a bit of food. Most of it's gone by now. Hey, I was hungry.

And I'm cold. I have a sleeping bag, but I can't stay in that all day. Anyways, it's not even enough to keep me warm at night. This arena is cold. Cold. You think you know what it's like to be cold? Pick your coldest memories. Drop the temperature a hundred degrees. Change into a swimsuit. That's about how cold it feels.

I have a bit of food left, so my main problem is the still-falling temperature. I bet I'll freeze to death before I get a chance to win. My odds of surviving much longer with only a shirt, jacket, pants, and boots, and a sleeping bag at night...they're not high.

I listen to the sound of the waves. They wash over my ears. Well, my ear. I can't really hear out of my right ear, thanks to an infection I got when I was five. So, my left ear picks up the sound of the water, and I'm comforted briefly, reminded of Four, back home. The water. The turquoise waves. The warmth.

I'll be returning there. There's no doubt in my mind. Any uncertainty I'd had is gone. I'm strong. I could be a Career. I'm great with weapons, especially tridents and spears. I'm strong. Stronger than them. Better than them. I can win this. Who cares if my right ear's a bit weak? It's not going to kill me. My left ear is good!

I know I will win this.

Back at home, they're rooting for me. They know I'm the best tribute in the arena. They know that I'm obviously going to be the winner. Luxe is strong, pretty good, but I'm not weighted down by an alliance. Oh, my odds are better than his, I'm sure. I can just picture the scoreboard thing in the Capitol. My odds are the best.

I resist the urge to plop down on the ice beneath me. I think my butt'd freeze over if I did. Best to avoid that.

My mind drifts back to District 4. I barely notice the cracks appearing several meters away from me. I only realize what's happened when the slab of ice is adrift, and the only way to get back to the mainland would be to jump into the freezing water and swim.

I'm already in danger of becoming an Aquamarine-sickle. I am not jumping into that water.

I begin to have second thoughts about this decision when I'm farther out. But it's too late. I could not make it back to the shore. If it was warmer, I could do it, no problem. But swimming in icy water for such a distance...not an option.

I crouch on the floating slab of ice. I watch as the mainland disappears. Oh, man. Now I'm stuck on an iceberg with nothing more than the clothes I'm wearing, a small sack on my back, and a few knives.

Sponsors must be tripping over each other to get to my mentor, and to send me something. Of course they are. They're not just going to let me die here.

Night falls. The temperature drops even further. I stuff myself into my sleeping bag, but it isn't enough.

The anthem begins. I wonder who's faces I'll see tonight.

Fabian Locke, Career, from District 2. A Career. A Career! How'd he die? Well, I'm even more obviously going to win now.

Belle Davidson, District 3. Well, I don't really remember her much. Of course she died.

Teal Gray, District 11. Was she the one I saw locked in the ice? Well, she survived longer than I would've expected. But no matter. Se's dead now. I'm alive. That's what matters.

The sky turns dark. I lie in silence, me left ear pressed into the ground. That's why I don't hear the parachute. I only feel the bump as something lands on my body.

I sit up and rip open the parachute.

It's a blanket. A thick, wooly blanket.

I gape at it, then mouth a quick thank-you at the sky. I was right. The sponsors do love me. Well, of course they do. How could they not?