After all, he's trying to do the same thing. He just knows how to do it right.

.oOo.

Dimitri Muller, 16
District Two Male
1 Kill

For a while, they just stand and stare at the burning cabin as it sinks further into oblivion. Triton is the first to step back, glancing over at Thetis with a warning look. She nods, looking a bit startled, and turns towards Dimitri. "You ready to search?"

Dimitri nods, feeling for the long sword that he keeps strapped to the back. The leather strap that holds it in place is just where he expects it to be, and he touches the steel just to make sure that it's still there. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's head to the top and look for someone."

"Of course. We'll search, then get back to Lumara." Triton finishes the conversation as he skis back out the forest, Thetis at his heels. Dimitri follows them both, watching the twins ski with one another. Although they've only met a week ago, they're comfortable with one another. Somewhere in the Capitol, they had evidently decided that they'd work together over the rest of the careers.

Thetis has agreed fully to whatever deal they have with one another. Dimitri can tell by the fact that she doesn't speak to him as she used to, preferring to stick close to her twin. But Triton is hesitant - there's something in him that's loyal to District Four, and he makes sure to keep Lumara in any conversation they have. His allegiance is to his twin - yet, he can't let go of District Four.

Dimitri admires that. He likes seeing someone who knows where his loyalties lie, even if he's divided. It's one of the reasons he kept with the careers after the bloodbath. He could have abandoned them - maybe he should have, but he trusted Triton. Triton's trying to win in a way that he thinks the Games need to be done, and Dimitri knows how the boy from Four feels.

After all, he's trying to do the same thing. He just knows how to do it right.

They're out of the woods quickly, and Thetis jumps onto the first seat that swings around to head back up the mountain. The ski lift is still working, even if all of the cabins in the woods are burning down. That's a relief for them all. "You two coming, or what?"

"Right after you," Triton murmurs. He grabs a seat and hauls himself up onto it, Dimitri doing the same with a third. They all settle in and wait as they look for any signs of tributes. There's still the thick, billowing clouds of smoke that come from the cabins, but if they see any sign of life from the tributes…

Like that tiny, grey wisp of smoke that's coming from their right.

Dimitri kicks the back of Triton's seat, and the boy from Four yelps in surprise. "Look to your right," Dimitri hisses. "I don't know if the tribute's still there, but that's not a cabin."

"You're right," Triton whispers back. They're whispering for no discernable reason, but it feels safer. Maybe it's because they're so close to finding some tribute, to getting another chance to survive in the Games. This is their chance.

They don't want to waste it.

So instead of wasting their chance, they call to Thetis. And after she realizes what they're about to do, she nods. Then, the three leap off of the ski lift and into the forest below.

.oOo.

He thought that it'd push it all away, that the fear of being hunted at every moment would make him the person he needs to be.

.oOo.

Gilbert Dongalls, 15
District Six Male
0 Kills

Gil's tired, so tired. He doesn't know what to do anymore, not when his food's starting to run low and the cabin, his only form of shelter in the arena, is gone. It's burnt down, and he only managed to get out because he had been just alert enough to leave.

He knows that he got out, that he's still alive, that he has to calm down and focus, but he wonders what would have happened if he hadn't moved until a few seconds later.

Maybe it would have been better for everyone.

After what feels like a long while, he straps on his skis, taking a long time to make sure that all of the bindings are still in place - though it's not really that, he just doesn't know what he's going to do after he starts moving. So instead of doing that, he's dragging out whatever task he can think of for himself as long as possible. It'll take a while, but that's what he wants.

It'll take his mind off of everything for a while. He hopes.

All too quickly, though, he's strapped on his skis, organized his packs and the items inside them, and made sure that the axe is in a position that won't kill him if he falls three times. It's time to move, back to the slopes.

So he starts skiing.

He's still rough around the edges when he tries to ski - he's never seen someone do it, so he pushed at his poles and tried to drag himself through the snow at the start. Soon enough, however, he figured out that it would be easiest if he used his legs to push through the snow when he wasn't on the hills, the poles used to balance him. He falls seldom, and faceplants even less.

If he wasn't in the Hunger Games, he might be proud of himself. But of course, he's in the Hunger Games.

And there's only nine others, here with him.

What would Doug think of him now? Would he be excited, hopeful that another tribute of his could win so soon after Isa? Or does he know better? Does he know that it's only a matter of time before Gil crashes, before Gil figures out a way to get himself killed before he can actually win?

Because no matter how he pictures it, Gil can't think of a way that he'll get out of the arena alive.

He shakes his head fiercely, surprised by the display of emotion even as he does it. He shouldn't think like that - he should be stronger than he is. After the bloodbath, he thought the arena would take away every demon he has. He thought that it'd push it all away, that the fear of being hunted at every moment would make him the person he needs to be.

But no, he's realized that it's not the moments of action he needs to worry about. It's when he has nothing but his thoughts to keep him company when he's most vulnerable.

That's when he knows that he's about to die.

.oOo.

Oh well, he might as well be himself to the very end.

.oOo.

Chase Farlay, 16
District Eight Male
1 Kill

He keeps on stoking the fire with the firewood that he's been cutting off from trees around the clearing, tossing in smaller pieces of kindling to make sure that he doesn't kill it. He doesn't need that right now, he wants to keep warm. It's been getting steadily colder in the arena - the game makers are gearing up for something, and he doesn't want to be the one affected by it.

For now, he'll keep the fire going.

He rises to get some more firewood, knowing that his stockpile is getting a bit too low. He has no more food now, either, but he doesn't know what he'll do about that just yet. Maybe he'll make a snare. He saw rabbit tracks as he was walking through the woods to find this area to camp down in, and there's piles of round, fresh droppings wherever he walks. This place must be teeming with rabbits, and he's hungry.

Rabbit stew would be good for dinner.

It occurs to him that he should keep the fire low, just in case that other tributes find him and try to take his shelter and a warm fire, but he can't bring himself to do it. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to lose the fire just yet, but it's more because he's too stubborn to do it. People say that he makes reckless decisions for a reason, after all, and this is probably one of his worst yet.

Oh well, he might as well be himself to the very end. After all, who's going to look for his tiny fire when there's billowing clouds of smoke over the tops of the trees? He doesn't know why they're there, but it'll hopefully block out his own fire.

Maybe.

After taking his axe to a dead log, he piles the kindling in his arms and trudges back to the shelter. Ducking under the small door, he drops it all next to the fire. After a moment, he pushes it a bit away from the fire with a foot - it wouldn't be the best idea to let his shelter go up in flames because he was too lazy to move a few pieces of kindling. Instead, he stacks them in a neat pile and watches the flames.

The kindling seems to be a bit too big to properly catch on fire, although it's managing nicely so far. But the rest of the pile that he hasn't thrown in yet seem too large, too gangly to properly catch. He should cut them with his axe.

Wait, he left his axe at the dead log.

Chase leaps to his feet, the fire forgotten. He curses and sprints out of the shelter, running to get his axe. He doesn't know why he's moving so fast to get it, but he doesn't know where anyone else is in the arena and there's something in the back of his mind warning him that he'll lose it if he doesn't get it right now.

So he gets there as quickly as he can, and grasps it by the handle. The wood is polished and smooth, and he swings it through the frosty, crisp mountain air before wiping snow off of the blade. He doesn't want to rust it, after all.

Then, Chase walks back to the shelter. A jaunty tune, popular in his school, pops into his mind, and he begins to whistle it out loud. It's a pretty tune, and a bird of some kind pauses in its hurry to find food to sing it back to him. Chase smiles up at the bird, and it gives him another cry that sounds like the word "run!"

He ignores it - it's just a bird, after all - and walks back to his shelter. He keeps whistling the tune, grinning like he's on top of the world.

But then the tune dies on his lips, and his mouth drops open. It's like his heart has leapt into his throat when he sees what's into the shelter, and Chase fights back the urge to dry-heave onto the intruders.

"Welcome back," says Triton Clifford as he thrusts a trident into Chase's fire.

.oOo.

This is their best shot.

.oOo.

Triton Clifford, 17
District Four Male
3 Kills

He pushes the trident into the fire, letting it dig under some of the bright-red and orange coals before pushing them out of the fire and at the boy from Eight. A shovel would have worked better, but enough coals leap into the air and hurl themselves at the boy for Triton to be satisfied. The boy blocks some with his axe, but a few hit his cheek and spin away, steaming as they sink into the snow.

The boy's cheek looks burnt from the impact, and Triton gives him a grin.

That turns out to be the wrong decision.

It's only because of Thetis that Triton doesn't lose his head right then and there: as the boy hurls the axe at Triton's neck with frightening speed, she throws herself at her twin and shoves him into the wall of the shelter. The axe bounces off of the wall and towards Dimitri, but the twins ignore their ally's cry of surprise as they try to get back up. They've managed to break the wall of the shelter with their impact.

"Get away!" the Eight yells at them, his face bright red. He looks frightened. But Thetis and Triton are back on their feet with weapons in their hand, and Dimitri follows suit after he checks to see that the wound that the axe's blade left on his arm isn't too deep. "Get out of here!"

When Triton's trident flies towards the boy's face, it's the Eight who flees instead.

They're all after him like a pack of hounds eager for the kill, Triton pausing only to grab his trident from the snow. The boy is fast, too fast for them to catch him with ease. They're left only the choice to play the game of endurance, where they try not to slow down until the boy falls or makes a crucial mistake. Either will work.

Dimitri and Thetis take the lead at the start, Thetis swinging her naginata - and barely missing, for that matter - at the boy's heels. But their speed begins to fade when the boy starts weaving through the trees, and Triton sees the agony on Thetis' face as she begins to flag. She waves them onwards, taking one last chance to get the kill by throwing her naginata at the boy's back.

It bounces off a tree instead. Just like that, it's only Dimitri and Triton chasing the boy from Eight.

"Get - get to the side," Dimitri manages to gasp as he keeps up with Triton's pace. The boy from Eight is moving too fast for them to properly catch up, so they're stuck trying to keep at his heels. It's practically impossible, and the fact that they're running through snow with heavy weapons in their arms only makes it harder. "I'll throw the sword - it won't work - it'll startle - then you'll try."

Triton nods slightly, and starts moving to the right. Almost immediately, he sees what Dimitri is planning - they're coming up on the slopes, and the boy from Eight will have to slow down to get over the bank and to where he can sprint down the hill. This is their best shot.

When the boy leaps onto the snowbank and claws his way up, legs churning as he rushes upwards, Dimitri throws his sword. Although he misses, it crashes into the snowbank just above the boy's head. The Eight pauses out of fright, turning to move up a different way, and Triton aims.

A second later, the trident flies through the air and away from the boy. For a moment, Triton realizes that it's not going in the direction of the boy - it's too far to the left now to hit the boy where he is.

Thankfully, however, the boy is moving to the left just as fast as the trident is.

When the trident pins the boy's right arm to the snow, he screams in pain and tries to wrench away. Blood is seeping from his shoulder, staining his light jacket as it continues its journey to the ground. Dimitri is on the boy quickly, grabbing his fallen sword and bringing it back to the boy.

The boy is screaming now, but Dimitri leans down and whispers something in his ear. It must have been calming, Triton thinks, because the boy from Eight sags in relief as Dimitri draws his sword and swings it as hard as he can.

"You did it!" Thetis screams when she catches up, and they all nod. The cannon is still ringing through the air, and they allow themselves a small smile before turning back to the forest. After all, they have to hurry back to the shelter to fetch their skis - something that they had hidden in a bank of snow so the boy wouldn't see.

This time, though, they won't run.

BEGINNING OF DOUBLE UPDATE - REMEMBER TO READ THE NEXT CHAPTER

9th: Chase Farlay, District Eight Male; Killed by Dimitri Muller. Created by paperairline.

Chase was a cool guy. He knew his strengths and weaknesses and was just generally very chill about it all - he did his thing, enjoyed himself, and had a good time when he could. It was his recklessness that did him in, getting him caught by the careers when he should have kept a lower profile. But now that he's gone, we're down to the final eight. He'll be missed for his generally happy spirit, and the fact that he nearly got away. Thank you, paper, for Tracks!

And that's it! Remember to read that next chapter, and have a good day.

Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ