Night 6
Ainsley's eyelids feel heavy, but she does not allow herself to sleep. Her head throbs even more steadily than this morning and the tree branches swirl around her, but she is not dead yet. Ainsley pushes herself up onto her elbows and forces herself to sit up. Every movement makes her head spin and her stomach turn, but there is nothing more to throw up. It's easy to know now that she made the right decision to empty her stomach of the berries. Ainsley doesn't think she retained enough to be lethal, but she is feeling the effects, unless this is all in her head. This mixed with starvation, dehydration, and lack of sleep, Ainsley wonders if death would be more comfortable at this point.
Where's your fight?
Her mind shouts at her to stand but Ainsley doubts that she is able to bear even her own weight. She wants to move, to go to the Cornucopia and find what she needs to survive another few days in this place. Ainsley can't imagine sleeping another night in the cold slush as the humidity starts to stick her hair to her neck, but she won't allow herself to think of the alternative. She will not give in no matter how much she might want to. Giving into her aching body and throbbing headache would be suicidal. Ainsley stifles a cry as she pries her eyes open. The sun is too bright, but she can't afford to keep them closed. The other tributes could be anywhere.
Ainsley wonders how far away from the Cornucopia she might have travelled. She doesn't know how many days she has been here, or how many of those days were spent walking herself into a circle. She might be an hour from their starting point or ten hours from it. All Ainsley knows is that she must make it back there. She struggles to her feet and stumbles over herself for the first few steps. Everything hurts. Ainsley chooses a direction and begins to head that way, but the truth is that she has no idea where to go. She stays close to the trees and listens intently above the blood pounding in her skull. She can't afford to just wait around anymore, she has to get to the Cornucopia as soon as possible. There have to be supplies still leftover from their first day. If there aren't, well, Ainsley doesn't want to think about that possibility right now. She just focuses on putting one foot in front of the other.
Milan searches quickly outside of the cave before he sees the little rabbit, its white fur sticking out in front of the sea of grey. His face lights up, so he had actually heard something this time. Milan easily kills the creature, barely hearing the snap of its bones under his foot. He should cook the meat, but he also knows that he is too much of a coward to ever try lighting a fire. Never mind the fact that Milan doesn't know how to even begin to set one up. He picks up the flattened animal and scurries to the back of the cave with it.
Now that the wind is gone, Milan can hear every rustle and splash outside. Each one sets his heart racing, wondering if it will be another tribute this time. He can still picture the second tribute girl running out from behind that tree. He can't let go of the thought that there might be more of them, or worse that neither girl is actually dead despite Milan hearing their cannons himself. Is it possible that he imagined those sounds the way he has imagined the sounds coming from outside his cave? The more he thinks about it, the more plausible a theory it seems.
Milan knows that the other tributes will come for him. He can feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck as he pictures the girl pointing her knife at him. If Madina hadn't come along, Milan would have died by their hands. Instead, he lives another day. He is thankful for every second that his heart still beats, but it's not enough. Milan needs to win, he needs to beat the other tributes that will so callously point their weapons at him. They can't win, it has to be him.
That also means that it can't be Madina, but Milan is not ready to admit that yet. In his mind he sees them both surviving as long as possible. He laughs quietly to himself as he slices a piece of meat from the tiny bones. "Until the end."
Milan has already considered barricading himself into the cave and letting the other tributes finish each other off. However, none of the rocks are loose and none of the fallen branches are thick enough to put up much resistance. No, Milan is in this for the long run and he will be unprotected. He can't imagine sleeping even as his eyelids droop. Every time his eyes close, images of the dead tributes flicker through his mind until he snaps then back open. It could have been him.
It seems stupid to venture back into the arena when there are still so many left. Milan glances down at his boots and counts the notches, including the two new ones from this morning. If their cannons were real, that leaves ten of them still remaining. Nine more bodies that need to fall if he is going to go home, but Milan isn't as sure that he can make that happen. What if the others are together? What if they have already tracked him to the cave and are just waiting for night to fall so they can kill him? Is a knife enough to keep him safe? Will Milan even be able to survive the night?
He tries to steady his breathing, listening to the sound of the arena as his heart pounds in his chest. Milan wants to run but he doesn't know where to run to. He holds his knife close to his body, ready to lunge at anything that might challenge him. There is no other choice, Milan can't let his guard down and allow anything kill him. They can't win. It has to be him.
For the first time in the arena, Koda is able to truly lose himself in the process. It no longer matters what he is making and the wires that slip between his fingers could be anything. He thinks about the projects that his father was working on just before the ceremony. Koda pretends that the cave floor is his workbench and the sounds he is hearing are coming from the window his father likes to keep open in the summer months. The arena doesn't have the same fuel smell, but if Koda closes his eyes he can pretend.
Emrys has watched his ally work in silence for what feels like hours. He doesn't like being in the cave anymore now that the wind is gone, it seems like too obvious of a hiding place, but it's the only place dry enough for Koda's electronics. The sun is only just starting to dip in the sky, but Emrys suspects they will be spending another night here. They'll need some sunlight to plant them. Koda says he needs to wait to connect them until they're placed but Emrys didn't understand his reasoning behind that. It's just easier to leave the tech up to Koda, even though Emrys worries about his ally.
"You can take a break, Koda," Emrys says, but Koda doesn't even turn around. It's been like this all day, Koda working in silence and ignoring any attempt Emrys makes to talk to him. It makes Emrys worry, thinking about how withdrawn his ally was in the days following their bombing attempts. Is this the one that will plunge Koda into permanent silence? Emrys hopes not, but as the hours drag on it's harder to believe that Koda will be okay.
"Koda?" Emrys asks, louder this time. He doesn't dare shout, but he can't shake his fear for Koda. Emrys places a hand on his shoulder and his ally jumps away from him. Koda's wide eyes find his and immediately scramble for the wire he had been holding. Emrys pushes him back from the devices, for some reason unwilling to let him return to them so quickly.
The bombs were everything to Emrys just a few days ago, but now he is second-guessing himself. They've killed two tributes already, one unintentionally but Emrys forces himself to count Colm. The weapons are working better than Emrys could have dreamed back in training. Why, then, does he want to keep Koda away from them right now? "Koda, just stop for a second."
"Why?" Koda snaps, his voice even louder than Emrys'. His eyes bore into Emrys, wondering why he isn't just letting him work in peace. This is what Emrys wants and, right now, it's what Koda wants too. He could almost feel the unnatural breeze of the ventilation systems in the workshop, but now Koda knows that the air comes from the cave's mouth. Koda doesn't want to be in the arena, he wants to be home so desperately that it hurts.
"You've been working for hours," Emrys says, swallowing the indignity that he can feel swelling up in his throat. Before the Hunger Games, Emrys would have spat back with a hundred times the anger of Koda. Now, his voice is barely above a whisper. "Take a break."
"No," Koda says, his voice sharper than Emrys has ever heard it. They've only known each other for a couple weeks, but it makes Emrys take a step back. Koda scrambles forwards and snatches up the device, retreating into a further corner of the cave with it tucked under his arm. He glares for a moment longer before he returns his concentration back to the circuits. Koda's hands tremble and he lets out a grunt of frustration.
"Koda, please," Emrys says, once again coming up behind Koda. He is about to put a hand on Koda's shoulder, but he stops mid-way. It doesn't feel right to touch him, no matter how much Emrys thinks it could help. Colm's touch always calmed Koda, but it seemed so natural coming from him. Emrys is nothing like Colm, he doesn't know how to comfort a friend or even how to make a friend. That's not who Emrys is and, for the first time, he finds that this bothers him.
"You wanted this, just let me finish it," Koda says without looking back. His voice is almost unrecognizable with the hatred that steams towards Emrys. Koda doesn't even wait for an answer, he shrinks against the wall with his body tucked in around the device. Emrys leaves his hand hovering over Koda's shoulder for another moment before he returns it to his side. Emrys sits down on the opposite wall, watching as his ally pours over the tech. He has nothing more to say to Koda because he's absolutely right. Emrys wanted this.
As they head back to the Cornucopia, Zaid spots the reflection of the tribute's uniform as they walk silently past the tree. He forces himself to look perfectly forward, knowing that he should alert his allies but also not being able to stomach the idea of another death being his fault. First the girl at the Bloodbath, then the District 7 boy. Two people dead because of him, even though he wasn't the one to kill the boy. It makes him feel nauseous realizing that he can't even remember their first names.
As the arena started to darken, Laurent finally allowed himself to be convinced to head back to the Cornucopia. His fists tighten at his sides knowing that he is no closer to finding Airla than they had been this morning. She's beaten him again and she is probably laughing about it with Malachi right now. The stupid outer district boy who probably couldn't count to ten and certainly shouldn't have been allowed into their alliance, laughing at him. His jaw clenches so tightly that Laurent has to force the muscles apart, only now realizing how much they ache from the day.
Laurent looks behind him and sees Valya and Zaid still walking together. When he started noticing them talking around the arena as they hunted, Laurent thought maybe he was being paranoid. Now, every time he sees them, they are together. Sure, Valya comes over to talk to him every once in a while, but her presence is not the same around him as it is with Zaid. Laurent shouldn't care, it's beneath him to be jealous of someone like Zaid- someone that is so clearly unable to handle the arena that it's almost laughable- but he can't shake the feeling. Technically they are all on the same side, but that's not good enough for Laurent. He wants everyone to be on his side, to support him, and not to sneak around behind his back. Their chats could be innocent, but Laurent isn't willing to hedge his bets, not after Mercury. Laurent is the leader; it would be a mistake for them to think otherwise.
When Laurent turns to face ahead again, a glimmer of white catches his eye and he can't help the smile from crawling across his lips. He isn't sure what it means that he feels this ready to take on another tribute, but Laurent doesn't care. At first the power that he could hold over the others frightened him, but not anymore. Now he welcomes it with open arms. Without a word to his allies, Laurent launches himself under the nearby tree and grabs the tribute by the leg. They're small and he is able to easily drag them through the slush and into the open. He recognizes her, but only barely. It's Ike's little girlfriend from the Capitol.
Ainsley screams as soon as she feels herself being pulled away from the tree. She doesn't know how long she has been sleeping, but the fog clears quickly. She claws at the ground for something, anything to grab onto but there is nothing but ice chunks and the water they are floating in. Ainsley's head goes temporarily under water as she is pulled over a thick stream of water and she comes up choking. She thrashes out with every limb but none of her hits are strong and the tribute doesn't let go.
"Who do we have here?" Laurent says, the smile still settled into his skin. Valya rushes forward to help him but he shrugs her away. The girl is light and isn't putting up much of a fight, it's nothing that Laurent needs help with. He throws her leg to the ground and Ainsley scrambles to get to her feet. Laurent's boot comes down hard on her ankle, pinning it to the ground with a satisfying crack.
Ainsley screams again and Zaid flinches away from the sound. Valya glances back at him, but quickly returns her eyes to Laurent, whose eyes flicker between them. Valya wonders if she imagined the flash of recognition and her throat goes dry. She has come to learn Laurent's habits well, and nothing pleasant ever follows this particular expression. Valya becomes suddenly aware again of the weight in her pocket but she doesn't dare make a move for the gun. She doesn't yet know his intentions; she could be worried for no reason. Somehow Valya doubts this.
"Is he the leader you want?" Laurent yells at Valya. She doesn't dare move, not even to look at Zaid or the tribute who is still trying desperately to free herself. Valya swallows hard but the lump in her throat doesn't dissipate. In fact, she could swear it has doubled in size. Even in the dim moonlight, she can see his face has turned a deep shade of red. The only time Valya has ever seen him this angry was the morning they woke up without Airla and Malachi. "Is he?"
Valya knows that she should answer. She had hoped that she would have more time to choose the best route to the finale, but that time has run out. Valya trusts Zaid more than Laurent, but he isn't their leader. He hasn't been since they entered the arena. Still, confirming Laurent's words makes her feel like she is giving up on Zaid.
Laurent removes his boot from the girl's ankle and slams it down another half inch up her leg. Ainsley screams at him to stop, to let her go, but he doesn't even glance down at her. The pain is like nothing she has ever experienced and a new wave of dizziness crashes over her. Ainsley thinks she might pass out, but if she does that she is as good as dead. This can't be it. It can't be. Tears stream down her cheeks and she screams again as Laurent's boot grinds further into her leg.
"He's nothing," Laurent spits. He doesn't even register the girl on the ground anymore, all he sees is red. Zaid will never be half the leader that Laurent is and Valya should see that by now. If she can't see what an embarrassment he is, Laurent is perfectly willing to show her. "I bet he couldn't even kill her."
Zaid can feel tears pulling at his eyes, but he forces them back. He wants to yell back, to tell Laurent that he is wrong, but the words don't come. Zaid steps closer to the tribute and Laurent kicks her towards him. Zaid feels sick at the sight as he looks down at her. Ainsley's ankle is twisted at an impossible angle and tears stick the loose strands of hair to her face. She tries to get up, but her entire body protests and she falls limply back into the cold slush. As Zaid watches, he can't help the tears that finally fall into the water beside her.
"You're nothing," Laurent hisses. Zaid feels the sting of each letter, knowing that he has no argument to offer. He can't do it, just like Laurent said he can't, and he won't force himself to try. Zaid takes another step towards Ainsley, but a second later his fist connects squarely with Laurent's jaw.
Laurent grunts as he is thrown back a few steps, surprise and rage pumping more adrenaline into his veins. He closes the distance between them in seconds and his own fist finds Zaid's nose with an audible crunch. Laurent pulls a knife from his belt, but Zaid knocks it out of his hand. All of the pent-up anger at Laurent bubbles up to the surface. Laurent convincing them to kill Mercury, the things he did to drive Airla away, everything. He doesn't even bother to reach for a weapon as he pushes Laurent to the ground and lands on top of him.
"Valya!" Laurent roars as he lands another punch, this one in the center of Zaid's chest. Zaid chokes out a cough, but he doesn't stop. Laurent blocks a couple hits that were meant for his head before Valya gets to him. She doesn't seem to know what to do, but she reaches for Zaid first. Zaid registers the touch and immediately swings back around at her, his fist hitting Valya on the side of her jaw. She cries out and stumbles back, holding her face in her hands. Without thinking, Valya makes her choice. She kicks Laurent's lost knife towards him and the handle brushes against Laurent's fingers.
Not missing a beat, Laurent slashes upwards and catches Zaid deeply across his shoulder. Zaid tries for a few seconds to grapple the knife away, but Laurent's grip remains tight. Laurent kicks Zaid off of him and stumbles up to his feet, his head still throbbing from the first hit. Zaid looks back at Laurent, but he doesn't rush back into the fight. Instead one last look at the knife sends him running for the trees.
"Follow him!" Laurent yells and Valya nods, wiping the small trickle of blood from her lips. She feels for a weapon and finds it as she takes off between the trees after Zaid, her face still aching from the blow. Laurent is about to go with her when he sees the tribute girl dragging herself away from the small clearing. He curses under his breath, but luckily she hasn't made it very far. Laurent laughs but the sound carries no amusement as he makes his way over to her.
Laurent leans down over Ainsley, whose sobs have gone silent. Fresh tears stream down her cheeks but she does not cry out when she sees Laurent. Ainsley stops trying to drag herself away, realizing with certainty that she will not be able to get away this time. Their fight gave her precious minutes of distraction, but the pain radiating up her leg is almost enough to make her pass out. As he unceremoniously wipes the boy's blood from his knife, Ainsley stares straight at him and wills the tears to stop falling. He doesn't deserve to know how afraid she is.
He drives the tip of the blade into her chest, with one hand on the back of her neck to keep her still. She tries to bite her lip to keep from crying out, but a muffled scream still escapes. Ainsley forces herself to keep eye contact even as her head spins and her body all but gives out under her. It takes all the strength in her to choke out the words. "Eat shit."
Her face contorts in pain as he twists the knife in her chest. Laurent removes his hand from her neck and Ainsley falls back into the slush, water encompassing her head and blooming with red around his knife. He yanks the knife as hard as he can to free it from her body, blood splattering the bottom of his pants. He turns up his nose at the stains but decides it doesn't matter anymore what his clothes look like. Laurent grips the weapon tightly as he runs off to find Valya, barely noticing the cannon that follows him through the trees.
There are three faces in the sky when the anthem plays and, not for the first time, Madina recognizes all of them easily. The first two are the girls that she and Milan killed this morning; the last is the girl she should have killed several days ago. Madina waits for the tears to come, but her eyes remain dry. She isn't sure if it's better this way, not feeling the deaths as deeply as she should, or if it felt better to cry for the dead tributes. It's not that Madina doesn't care. It's just difficult to mourn so many people at once when she knows that they all have to die.
No sooner has the anthem ended than does Madina begin to hear a soft beeping sound. She crawls out from under her tree, straining her eyes against the darkness to see anything that might look out of place. The moonlight barely catches the white parachute as it starts to sink into the slush, but Madina rescues it the second she gets there. The sound was unfamiliar, but Madina knows exactly what this strange package is- a sponsor gift.
"Aubin," Madina whispers, her voice so soft that it barely reaches her own ears. Her mentor has been out of her thoughts for a few days, but as soon as she holds the cool metal in her hands all the anger comes rushing back. Madina wants to take this gift and shove it so far up his ass that a doctor will have to remove it, but Aubin isn't here with her. Another part of her wants to leave it to sink under the melted snow to show Aubin how much she doesn't need him right now. More of her knows that not needing him is a lie. Madina is starving and without most of her supplies.
Before she can think about it further, Madina pops open the container and can see a plastic dish of food waiting for her. She closes her eyes and clutches the meal to her chest, tears spilling down her cheeks without warning. As if on cue, her stomach begins to grumble and she tears into the food. Madina has taken in almost a quarter of the meat and some stray vegetables before she notice the white slip still tucked into the metal container. She heavily considers not looking at it, but curiosity wins out. There could be something important that Aubin wants her to know.
I always knew you could do it, my little fighter.
- Aubin
Madina crumples the note up in her fist and grinds it into the slush with her boot. She wants to scream loud enough that every camera will pick up her voice, but she doesn't dare. She's come so far and she refuses to throw that away with something so reckless. Instead, Madina tilts her head up to the sky and mouths the words as clearly as she can, hoping that her mentor will be watching. Go fuck yourself.
It's late and the moon is sitting peacefully over the arena, but Airla is not asleep. She knows that Malachi is awake as well, though he hasn't said anything in hours. His breathing is much louder and more rhythmic when he is asleep. Airla rolls over to face him and, sure enough, his eyes are open and he flinches when he sees her. She sits up and shakes her hair free of the fraying hair tie, wondering if it's time to either give in and wear her hair down or risk giving herself a new cut with one of her knives.
"Hi," Malachi says after a few moments of silence. He hadn't realized that Airla was still awake after they said their goodnights over an hour ago. Malachi isn't sure what's keeping him up tonight, but it's unrelenting. No matter how long of a day the arena throws his way, Malachi never feels tired enough to drop off into sleep easily. It means he will be tired again tomorrow, but that's nothing new anymore.
"Not tired?" Airla says, ignoring his greeting.
Malachi shakes his head and offers a weak smile. He stretches and sits up against the tree trunk, carefully massaging the muscles in his neck that protest his movement. Airla watches him for a moment as if deciding whether to say more before she finally does. "Anything you want to talk about?"
Airla isn't sure why she cares about Malachi's mental state, but she does wonder how tributes without training could possibly be holding up. The arena has been a full system shock for her even though she is technically prepared for this. She hasn't talked about anything close to this since Zaid and she wonders whether this is a good idea, but the words have already left. Airla's mind flickers briefly to her district partner, who couldn't be more different from Malachi. Zaid shows every emotion on his face no matter how hard he tries to hide them. Malachi's face doesn't show very much, but Airla has noticed that he tenses his shoulders almost constantly when he's nervous.
"How can you be okay with all this?" Malachi says without thinking. His tone feels sadder than he meant it, but he doesn't back away from the question.
Airla considers her answer for a moment but decides that there is no reason to lie to him. "I'm not."
Malachi lets out a humourless laugh before his eyes return to her as if expecting a more honest answer. Airla raises an eyebrow and repeats herself. "I'm not okay with this."
"You seem comfortable here," Malachi shrugs.
"It's televised, I knew what to expect," Airla says. She isn't supposed to talk about her training when the cameras could be watching, that was one of the only rules she was told before coming here. Airla never thought she would have to think about the rule. She was never supposed to be here in the first place, no matter what her father chose to think.
"Even after Mercury? Vervain?" Malachi presses. He wonders if he is being too nosy but he is genuinely interested. Nothing appears to bother Airla and maybe that makes Malachi a little bit jealous of her, but mostly it just makes him curious. He's watched the Hunger Games, as all the district people are forced to do, but the arena feels nothing like what he thought it would. It's at least a million times worse. He hasn't actually killed anyone but even being around the murders is nauseating.
"Who?" Airla asks.
"Which one?"
"Vervain," Airla says obviously, rolling her eyes. She can't remember ever hearing that name before, no matter how many times she tries to run it through her brain.
"District 7," Malachi says, dropping his voice to a whisper. It feels wrong to speak about Vervain as if him and Malachi had known each other. Still, Malachi can't believe that Airla doesn't remember his name. "The tribute Laurent tortured and you killed."
The name hits Airla harder than she expected it to. She knew he was from District 7, but she didn't know his name. Airla wraps her arms around herself and finds that she is unable to meet Malachi's eyes any longer. It feels so wrong that she didn't know Vervain's name, and now killing him makes her feel even sicker than it did before. At the time, Airla saw it as a mercy kill upon seeing what Laurent was planning. Now, it feels so much less honourable than that.
"I'm sorry," Malachi says, noticing Airla's retreat. He shouldn't have pressed her, he didn't mean to make her feel bad. It didn't feel like too far when he said Vervain's name, but Malachi feels like he might have crossed a line. "We can just, I don't-"
"Do you know all of their names?" Airla asks, her voice cracking on the last word.
"Um, y-yeah," Malachi stammers. He cringes internally, wondering if he should have lied. He watches Airla's reaction carefully as she looks up at him for only a moment before dropping her eyes again. Yeah, Malachi definitely feels like he has made a mistake.
"Tell me them," Airla says after a long pause. She isn't certain that she wants to know them before the words leave her lips, but suddenly it feels more important than sleep. Malachi is reluctant at first, but he slowly tells her all the ones he can remember. It's most of them, a lot of them already dead. Airla closes her eyes and tries to picture their faces, but for most of them she comes up completely blank. She just never paid much attention. After he's said their names a couple times over, Malachi begins to slip into a light sleep. Airla doesn't disturb him, instead running the names over and over again in her head. It doesn't change a thing about her situation, and the names begin to carve a deep hole in her chest. It would have been better not to ask, but at the same time it feels right to know.
The Gamemaker Control Room
"Maybe we should get Yulia in here," Aaro sighs as he tries again to plug the same sequence into his controls. The order from Tulio woke up the Terrains team at nearly three o'clock in the morning, but they all dragged themselves out of bed to work on it. It came in as category 1, about as urgent as it gets aside from emergency orders. Ignacio demanded they start work immediately to get it done before Tulio comes in at six. "She's better with holographics."
"She works on mutts," Ignacio says, not bothering to hide his disdain for the position.
"At least her mutts have all worked," Aaro grumbles and Ignacio shoots him a look from over his own control panel. The Terrains team has been in hot water ever since the weather controls were turned off yesterday. Now the whole arena is going to shit, but Tulio refuses to move the tributes when they could be so close to the end.
Ignacio slams his fists against the desk and the vibrations are strong enough that Aaro can easily feel them. "These damn panels won't stick."
Aaro shakes his head as his superior encounters the same error that Aaro has been struggling with for thirty minutes now. They need to block off the lake from the rest of the arena before the water levels rise too high. The problem is that none of the barriers seem to stay up where the Gamemakers place them. They keep slipping and no one can figure out why. Aaro looks at Ignacio for guidance, but he looks as stumped as before. "I can run a report if you want?"
"No, that'll take too long," Ignacio grumbles. He punches in another sequence and his eyes light up for a moment as the panels stay up. Aaro can see the exact moment they slip, just like they have every attempt so far. Ignacio curses but he is unwilling to disappoint Tulio again. "Extend the arena wall. It'll hold while we figure out a more permanent solution."
Aaro snorts. "Extensions are not nearly strong enough to hold back that much water."
"I didn't ask for your opinion," Ignacio says, the purple bags under his eyes looking even more pronounced by the light of his controls. He knows that the extension won't hold, but Tulio wants a solution this morning. It would be far easier to send in a team of engineers to build something on sight, but that's impossible right now. They need to create a barrier remotely, even though no one is sure how to make it work yet. "Just follow orders."
A/N: Hello, hello. Here we are now one more tribute down, another really tough scene to write I have to add. Apparently, I've developed some attachment to these remaining tributes because each death is getting harder. Who would have thought that would happen? Anyways only nine tributes remaining and some trouble stirring up with the arena. Good luck to those left.
Who do you expect to fall next? Who would you want to fall next?
I'll probably be back with another update in the next couple days. Thanks everyone again for all the support and the reviews you have been leaving. They really do help me to learn and improve so whenever you have time I love hearing your thoughts.
~ Olive