A/N- Gah, sorry for the slow update guys, I've been busy with lots of revision for my exams in a few weeks, so this took me a little longer than expected. Ok, so this chapter is slightly different than previous ones, as it contains all 8 POVs of our surviving tributes...This gives us a look at where they are and how they're feeling when twenty four become eight...Enjoy!

Inva Reinhardt, District 3 POV

The snow is finally on its way out, the sprigs of grass and ends of long buried twigs are beginning to peak up from the ground and the bark of the trees is no longer sprinkled with dustings of icing sugar. There is no longer a stale, bitter wind in the air that would tear through the stray strands of hair that fell from my ponytail and send cold hearted slaps to my bare face. And there is no longer that constant fear that someone is following your footsteps.

Back in the churchyard, I walk along, disappearing behind the crumbling stone walls that surround the old building. This is another thing that I like about the church, it's quite private and I feel like I can hide easier without feeling too edgy about it.

Unbolting the heavy door, I push it open and toss my bag inside, the sound of the dead animal I just hunted echoing as it hits the flat ground inside the tattered bag. I close the door over, leaving it ever so slightly ajar in case I need to make a quick scarper inside.

I heard two canons while I was out today; one only minutes after the first. I don't know what happened, or who died, but I can find out.

The twenty four gravestones stand firm in the ground, their bleak grey colour matching well with that of the wall behind them. I still don't know why there are twenty four of them; only twenty three will die, so there is an extra one. Hm, maybe the Gamemakers hate odd numbers or something?

Pacing round so I can face the engraved sides of the gravestones, I look at the two new additions: Tal Fontaine, District Four and Heidi Fitzherbit, District Twelve. None of those names really mean much to me, but on a positive, another Career is gone. One less to worry about. Which reminds me, how many have died so far?

I count each gravestone that possesses a name and list the numbers in my head. One, two three...Ten, eleven, twelve...Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Sixteen. Sixteen out of twenty four.

Eight left. Wow. This is the final eight. And I'm still here.

Guthrie Zython, District 8 POV

Her hair falls soft through my fingers; fair locks slipping gracefully between the narrow gaps in my hands. The smooth texture is foreign to my rough palms that are stained with dried bleak mud and punctured with tiny holes that splinters leave behind. With skilful actions I bind the three sections of her hair into a golden plait that I seal with the lace of her boot and lie carefully down her left shoulder.

Sitting back on my heels, I look at Heidi, with her hair now neatly styled and her eyes closed in a gentle slumber. The usual tinge of rose pink that normally flavoured her cheeks has now withered and a new skin of white rose is left in its place. Death suits her, makes her look more angelic, but life looked even better.

In a state of silence, I run a gentle finger down her frozen neck, feeling the broken building of her bones beneath her cold and pale skin. The structure of the top of her spine as been fractured, like shattered glass in a window. And it feels painful to touch.

"Guthrie." A tap on my shoulder. "They'll want to take her body; we should get out the way."

I nod slowly. Yeah, I need to get out of the way, yeah. That's what I need to do.

Zephyr offers a hand and helps me to my weak feet. He guides me to the door as I'm a little unsure of what I am doing and my feet do the opposite of what my brain tells them to do, like my head is separate from the rest of my body. Because that's what I feel like now. The world around me is shrinking and my mind is blocking out thoughts that I want to think. Life feels like a dream and I just want to wake up.

I take one more glance at Heidi, whisper good night to the sunshine, and close the door.

Ren Elmwood, District 1 POV

My heart is in my mouth and my chest feels shallow and empty; beats echoing like a skeleton in a closet. My ankles crack as my feet pound on the ground with little haste; the sound like crackles of lightning within my bones. My lungs burn and sweat drips down my forehead, trickling drops into my eyes and causing them to sting and water and pain streaks of tears down my face.

What have I done?

Trees close like soldiers either side of me, squeezing my body tighter and tighter; my chest feels bandaged with metal. The pressure of the air is overwhelming; I can feel my brain being pinned to the back of my skull and the veins in my temple throb.

What have I done?

The forest around me is thicker now, the trees seem to be moving closer together and each time I look away and look back again, I swear they are even closer. Usually, I don't venture into the forest; it's not a territory I am used to and I'm not familiar with the way it works. I tended to stay back at camp, where everything was open around me and I could see all that was there; I felt safe there, I knew there. But here? I'm like a stranger in foreign lands.

My boot catches in the roots of a tree and I stumble forwards, my hands shooting out to break my fall. I land with a clattering crash and I feel an agonising pain in my left wrist. Clutching it with my right hand, I press my fingers into the bones beneath the wrist and try to numb the pain, but it keeps on going, like a solid grip on my wrist...

I shake my head furiously, I can't let myself think about it. About how I held that spear so tightly that my knuckles almost popped out of my skin when I stood before that girl, prepared to kill her. I know I didn't, I know I chickened out. At first I thought it was the best thing to do, but now, I know it wasn't. I just left that girl to face a far more worse death. Ray would have made it painful and horrible, whereas at least I would have done it quickly and as painless as I could.

Crumbled on the floor, I hold my wrist to my chest and bow my head to my up-brought knees.

What have I done? I've done the coward's act.

Zephyr Torelli, District 9 POV

Guthrie stands emotionless, his back thrown against the wall like he has nothing to care about in the world and his hands thrust into his pockets. I hate seeing him like this, all quiet and blank, it's not the Guthrie everyone is used to seeing. He normally is the joker and the happy-go-lucky kinda guy, but now, all that positivity has drained from his face. The Games can completely change people. They've changed me, I know.

"Guthrie, do you wanna talk about it?" I ask him, approaching the subject carefully. "I'm a good listener."

Guthrie shakes his head and says nothing, his eyes like those of a dead fish; reflective and empty.

I shuffle on my feet, the awkwardness of the moment weighing heavily on my shoulders. I know what it's like to lose someone you've been close to recently, but right now I can't think of what to say to make him feel better. I suppose there isn't really anything I can say anyway. I bet Luna would know what to say, but she isn't here, is she? And neither is the boy who killed her.

I keep remembering the moment when I felt Tal's body fall heavily against me, the weight of his body mass seeming to triple as his muscles became weak. The image of the sword jutting out of his back keeps replaying over and over, so real that I can still feel the warmth of his fresh blood soaking into my shirt...

My eyes glance down to my chest, where a huge pond of deep crimson has stained my shirt. It's Tal's blood and with each blink, it seems to grow larger and larger and more and more noticeable.

I grab at the shirt with a quick hand, twisting the material in a closed fist and screwing my eyes together. His blood is a mark, one that will stay beneath my eyes until I die, because I am sure to die in this arena. I have to face every second with his dried blood tattooed onto my shirt, taunting me and reminding me of my near brush with death and how his death saved my life.

But I'm not even a murderer. I didn't even kill him. I tried, I wanted to, but I didn't, I couldn't. Someone else had to do it for me. Because I failed. And failing is what I do.

Layla Roberts, District 4 POV

Someone's there. A boy. A Career. Sitting just a few metres under my feet. He doesn't know I'm here. And I don't know why he's there.

I saw him earlier on, trampling through the woods at top speed; quite clumsily actually, his long and lanky legs stretching out in front of him shakily and his feet hitting the ground with uneven intervals. For a Career, he seemed pretty out of sorts.

I was up in a tree at the time I saw him, about to set my crossbow on the latest unlucky animal that would later become my supper, and to be honest, I almost toppled out of the tree, I was that surprised. Well obviously not as shocked as he was when a low branch of a tree slapped him smack in the middle of the forehead and then later when he tripped over some roots and landed with a crunch on his wrists. That part was hilariously entertaining, might I just point out.

So now, he sits with his knees drawn up to his chest and looks nothing like a strong Career, but a young and innocent boy instead. Well, even if he wasn't moping on the floor he still couldn't look scary if he tried; his hair is too wild and curly and his cheeks are too dimpled to be called menacing, in fact, he's sort of cute in a way. Not a patch on Tal, however.

Oh, Tal. I haven't actually thought about him in a while, so let's push that image out of my head before I get distracted and end up allowing myself to be slaughtered by the boy below me. Time is ticking and decisions have to be made if I'm going to live any longer.

Shuffling as quietly and as carefully as I can, I bring the crossbow around in front of me, resting it between two branches so that I can angle it correctly. With one eye closed halfway, I peer down at the boy and aim the tip of the bolt for the centre of his skull. My fingers gently begin to squeeze the trigger and I prepare myself for the jolt as the bolt is released.

The last person this was aimed at was Phosphorus. That was when he handed me the weapon and gave me the chance to kill him. I didn't, but now he's dead anyway. If there was one thing that boy taught me other than how to effectively camouflage a cave and climb a tree easily; it was definitely how to trust someone.

But what would he be saying to me now? Would he be telling me to kill the Career below, or to slip away silently and let him go. I dunno, Phosphorus could be very unpredictable.

And so can I.

Bryn Rosella, District 2 POV

It's getting dark and it's getting boring now. The walk back to camp was slow, silent and awkward. The recent event was just swimming round in our minds, replaying over and over again, each time something seemed different. I can admit that I was pretty damn shocked at what Ren did before; I thought yeah, he'd probably back out of killing that girl, he looked sick about it, but I never would have expected him to turn like he did.

My shoulder still aches from my collision with the wall when I was pushed by Ren. If my arm wasn't wounded by that stupid tree girl then I could have stopped him. I could have sent a knife flying straight through that long, skinny neck of his and gladly watched him as he fell to the ground, his blood pouring from his neck like a miniature waterfall.

However, if I have to applaud him for something, it would be his fabulous punch he dealt to Ray's jaw. It was actually fantastic. For that one moment when Ren turned, threw his fist and smashed into Ray's lower jaw, I was team Ren. Normally I don't chose teams, especially neither of those two idiots, but for that one second, I loved Ren. But then that second ended and I went back to hating his guts again.

Now, I'm sitting on the roof of the Cornucopia, staring up at the ever dimming sky. It's almost nightfall now, the Sun is just setting as I think, its golden orange glow disappearing behind the curtain of the buildings ahead. When the moon is ready to rise, there will be faces in the sky.

There were two canons today; I know one belonged to that girl Ray killed earlier, the one who Ren chickened out of killing, but I do not know who the second one belonged to. If I had to guess, I'd say it was the stupid tree girl whom Tal was chasing after. I hope he killed her slowly and painfully.

The last of the Sun's light fades and suddenly, the music of the Capitol's anthem begins to play. I tilt my head back and watch as the words 'The Fallen' shine bright against the dark of the sky behind. And then I watch as the words blur into a picture of Tal.

I feel my heart plummeting.

A sharp pain tears through my body like a knife buried inside me that has just been yanked out through the middle of my chest and carelessly tossed away, my blood tainting it's otherwise glistening gleam. I'm aching, I feel sick. My insides are tangled with my outsides and everything seems the opposite of what it was before. A tight ball squeezes in my throat, blocking my airways and preventing me from breathing clearly; I want to cough, but all I can do is gulp.

I'm not normally an emotional person, but with Tal's face burning down to me like a God in the heavens and his name bold in my eyes, I feel the tiniest tear falling down my cheek.

Raymond Periwinkle, District 5 POV

He's going to pay for this. That little, puny bastard is going to pay for this.

I want to take his scrawny body in my hand and crush it so that I feel his bones break beneath my fingers. I want to squeeze his snapable neck so tight that his eyes fall out of their sockets. I want to break every single one of his fingers one at a time with the harsh force of my own hands. I want to take his spear and stake his heart, pushing slowly and twisting the point around until it pokes out the other side of his body. I want to see the fear in his eyes as I show him what pain really is and most of all, I want revenge.

The surface of the Cornucopia is slightly reflective, so as I stand before it, I can make out the purple patch on the side of my jaw where his fist bruised my skin. With a finger, I rub along the bruise, not even wincing when it throbs beneath my touch. The skin feels weak and damaged, but it's only a punch, I can deal with a lot worse than that. I can do a lot worse than that myself.

I hate to admit it, in fact I despise to say, that Ren caught me off-guard earlier. I wasn't expecting him to flip out like that, I thought he'd either give in and kill the girl or weep into a corner, so I was most definitely not expecting him to throw a punch. Of course, had I been prepared, I would have easily dodged it and decked him myself.

I wonder what he's doing right now; probably crying himself to sleep hidden somewhere. Not only has he betrayed his allies, but he's betrayed the whole of his district, and all the other Career districts as well. Boy, he would be in so much trouble if he went home; they'd probably banish him or something or worse, force him to stay and have everyone give him dirty looks of disappointment and failure. Of course, because I am such a generous person, I won't let that happen to him. No, I'll kill him before he can get home. And I'll enjoy every second of it.

Ren is going to learn what happens when you mess with Raymond Periwinkle.

Arya Firestone, District 7 POV

Slouching back, my spine resting comfortably against the rough tree trunk as if it were a cushioned chair and my head tilted towards the sky, I wait for the anthem to play. It's quite a peaceful night; the air seems calm and undisturbed, only a small breeze the size of a breath blowing gently against my cheek and the sound of the twitching in the forest has quietened to just a low murmur. The temperate has improved too; with the snow starting to melt, the air around seems that tiny bit warmer and I'm shivering a lot less than I was before. One could easily fall asleep on such a beautiful night, if I didn't have to stay awake to see who has fallen today. I know I definitely heard one canon, I think maybe two, or possibly a third.

Whilst waiting patiently, I think back to my close encounter with the Careers. I was almost certain that I would die; there were so many of them, four fully-trained tributes against a measly district seven girl. Not a fair comparison. However, it was only because of the environment that I escaped. I suppose being in a forest was an advantage for me, seeing that my district is half forest, and so I guess it wasn't that surprising that I got away. Although, I wasn't expecting to injure one of the Careers, but I'm glad I did.

My bow is still in my hand, the smoothness of it's shape comforting to hold. I stroke the surface of the wood gently with a delicate finger and then look up to the sky once more as I hear the anthem begin to play.

The first person to be shown is Tal Fontaine, the District Four boy. I'm quite shocked actually, it can't have been too long after he had chased me in the woods that he died, so maybe he went back to find me after I snuck away and bumped into another tribute?

And the second person is a girl, Heidi Fitzherbit from District Twelve. I vaguely remember her; I'm pretty sure she was the drama queen who made a fool of herself at her reaping and had some sort of mental breakdown on stage...I'm quite surprised that she actually made it this far to be honest. Oh well, she's gone now, so that's that.

The image in the sky fades out and the sky appears indigo blue once more. Two deaths today. Another two notches in my boot. I take out my penknife and bring my foot onto my other leg so that I can reach the sole of my boot. With the knife, I cut two marks into the boot alongside the others and return the knife to my bag. I then count the notches in my boot.

Sixteen notches. Sixteen tributes dead. Eight left.

It's the final eight. At an instant, a shiver passes down my spine and my heart thumps violently from behind my ribs. And all of a sudden, the woods seem much darker than before.

A/N- Alrighty then! So there are our final eight and boy is this gonna get hard for them...Hehe, I have some surprises set up for them, one which will affect all of them directly...but what could it be? Haha, you'll have to wait to find out!

Ok, so next chapter will be another Outside chapter I think, and then after that will be two chapters based upon the Final Eight Interviews! Exciting...how very interesting it will be and who, I wonder, will be speaking on behalf of the living tributes?

So what I really, really want to know from all you readers are 1) Who are your favourite/least favourite tributes and 2) Who do you think/want to win the 500th Hunger Games? Please, please, please review and let me know your answers! I'm exicted to find out who's the most/least popular and whether anyone will guess who is going to be the victor...

Well, until the next chapter, farewell from me and thanks for reading!

Thanks, FireflyLlama xxx