AENEA REGINA SINGH, DISTRICT ONE

1:06 PM, THE AFTERMATH, THE FOREST

After the bloodbath had unraveled, Aenea had wasted no time in directing the Career Pack to their next location. Thankfully, from the Cornucopia, she'd noticed a path that had been deliberately placed in the center of the forest. The abundance of cover that the trees provided and the potential for something that awaited them at the end of the path was promising to Aenea. She had quickly decided that they were going to head that way after they'd stocked up on supplies.

While Aenea knew that most Career Packs would try to hunker down around the Cornucopia and keep the area locked up, such a thing wasn't ideal with the layout of this Arena in particular. The Cornucopia's location meant that they would have to take shelter inside of the Cornucopia itself. While its location was technically defendable due to the body of water that surrounded it in its entirety, it wasn't a place that they would be able to inhabit for long. Besides, it was more effective to start at one side of the Arena and cut through all the Tributes there before moving onto the next.

The first side they would thin the numbers on would be the tundra side. To their surprise, however, it wasn't cold at all. In fact, it was actually scorching hot. Some of the Careers had leaned down to scoop up some snow, which was still cold to the touch. Aenea wasn't surprised that the Capitol technology at the Gamemakers' disposal had been used for such a strange environmental touch. Biomes with swapped climates weren't the weirdest thing, but they would certainly prove to be an interesting element as the Games played out.

Aenea was hardly worried about the odd temperature. That could be dealt with once they'd figured out a place to settle. The District One girl was more concerned with getting from point A to point B with everyone intact—With the exception of Vitus, of course. It was a shame, really. The District Two boy had showed so much promise prior to his death. He had never been intelligent, but his brawn would've been helpful until Aenea was ready to dispose of it. At least the boy from District Eight had done it for her.

As the Career Pack moved through the snow, they began to remove their parkas. The intense heat that was beating down on them was particularly miserable. Moving through the snow was already difficult enough on its own without the added heat. The only good part about the ordeal was the fact that no one thought to complain. Every single one of them had set out with a goal and they were not going to let a little bit of snow stand in their way. For that, Aenea was grateful. It was nice to not have to cut down whiners.

"So, where do you think this path leads?" Sutton asked as they trudged through the snow.

"Somewhere the Gamemakers want us to go. The outer District Tributes will stray from the path because it leaves them vulnerable. If they don't feel like they can defend themselves, they won't take this route. The Gamemakers are trying to funnel us someplace." Aenea answered.

"Think it'll be a trap?" Isaac pondered.

Aenea shook her head, "No. I trust my judgement."

"Yeah, besides, getting there'll be snow problem," Erebor piped up.

Her eyes rolled involuntarily as the sounds of Leona trying not to laugh fell on her ears. Aenea glanced over her shoulder at the girl from District Three, who was basically the only tolerable member of the group—And that was because she didn't even speak. Aenea had grown to like her for that reason and that reason alone… Well, and she took care of their lack of range. She'd even proven herself useful by securing a kill during the bloodbath.

Clio broke through the middle of the pack, pointing to the far end of the path. She signed at Isaac, to which he quirked a brow. The dark-haired boy squinted and took a few steps forward before looking back to the group.

"There's a building up there." Isaac told them.

Leona tightened her grip on the straps of the large supply pack she was carrying, "I think it might be worth taking a look. If we can turn it into our camp, we would have a significant advantage over the other competitors in the Arena."

"Let's get moving, then!" Erebor said as he broke off into a run along the snowy path.

The rest of the group followed, each of them maintaining a steady jog as they went. Aenea wasn't sure how long it took them to arrive at the next clearing, but when they did, she relished in the fact that she had been correct. Just as she'd suspected, the Gamemakers had wanted to lead Tributes to this portion of the Arena.

Just beyond the clearing, a dilapidated cabin-like structure stood tall at the base of some particularly large mountains. It housed at least two floors and the front of it featured a massive triangular window. Aenea wondered if the inside was furnished or if it was being used to hold any other supplies. She turned to look at the Career Pack.

"Look around for the different entrances. We want to make sure we know every way in this place and every way out. Once we've figured out the exterior, we'll move in and decide whether or not we'll be staying here. Understood?"

Everyone nodded and the group separated, examining the structure from every possible angle. Aenea lended her efforts to the search as well, coming across a pair of cellar doors near the rear of the lodge that were locked. She made a mental note of that for when they went inside the building. Maybe, if they were lucky, they'd be able to locate a key. When the Career Pack reconvened, they pointed out the entrances and exits they'd found. After doing so, they moved into the lodge and took a look around.

The interior was hardly in much better shape than the exterior. The wooden floors were scuffed and dusty. Some parts of the floor had been carpeted, but the material had been torn apart and looked like it had been sitting there for years. The first floor of the lodge boasted a lobby with a high ceiling and a conversation pit like the nicer homes in District One, though this one surrounded a circular fireplace. The second floor of the lodge only hung over half of the first, creating a balcony that overlooked the lobby. It also featured individual rooms, each with miscellaneous pieces of furniture strewn about and some even containing beds. A large, wooden staircase led up to the second floor and sat just beside what appeared to be the remnants of some sort of dining hall.

"What do we think?" Erebor asked as he flopped down in the conversation pit, making himself comfortable against the aged cushions.

"I think we stay here. It's ideal, really. The mountains mean that other Tributes can only approach from the front and we don't run the risk of being surprised. It's a good shelter and it allows us some privacy from one another, as well. We would be foolish not to stick around." Aenea told him.

Erebor nodded, "Sounds good to me."

"Great," Aenea turned to face the others, "Any objections?"

There was no response and Aenea smiled.

"Wonderful. Now, let's get unpacked."

EMMANUEL ASH, DISTRICT THREE

3:23 PM, THE AFTERMATH, THE MESAS

Things had been relatively quiet during the walk through the desert. For the majority of their journey, everyone had just been trying to keep warm. Emerging from the cold water at the Cornucopia and stepping into the desert only to be greeted by the even colder chill in the air had been shocking to say the least. Emmanuel had initially hoped that walking into the desert would provide heat that could dry him and his allies off. Unfortunately, that hadn't been the case.

On the brighter side of things, though, they had finally gotten to a spot where they were a safe distance from the Cornucopia. The mesas and the dunes that dotted the desert were surprisingly good for cover. Despite the fact that the half they had ended up on was undeniably the more open portion of the Arena, Emmanuel and his allies still felt confident that they'd made the right choice. They headed to a decent-sized portion of the mesa that allowed them a better view of the landscape while also providing cover on one side.

When they finally plopped down, Sonora threw open her pack and began sifting through it. Emmanuel sat down between Cherry and Pepsi, who shivered as they took off their still-damp parkas. The District Three boy took off his pack and placed it onto the ground before him, pulling it open and taking a look inside. Within he found a bundle of kindling sticks, a few ration bars, and a metal canteen. Emmanuel took the canteen into his hand and shook it, frowning when he realized that it was empty.

"You got kindling!" Sonora's voice nearly gave Emmanuel a heart attack.

"Yeah, why?" He asked as she crawled forward and took the bundle in her hand.

Sonora rummaged through her own pack, "I got a fire piston! We can start a fire with this! All we need is some sticks for proper fuel."

"Do we really want to start a fire? Won't the other Tributes see the smoke?" Emmanuel asked.

"It's that or we freeze to death." Sonora countered, "And quite frankly, I'm not real interested in the latter."

"I'd love a fire… It's too cold." Pepsi said quietly.

Cherry got to her feet, "I remember seeing some trees not too far off from where we are now. If one of you wants to come with me, we can gather some. Do you need anything else to start the fire, Sonora?"

The District Nine girl nodded, "Tinder. Anythin' smaller than your finger. Make sure it's dry, too. You can probably get some from the little shrubs we saw 'long the way."

"I'll go with you," Emmanuel offered, "Maybe we can catch something while we're out, too. Did anybody get a weapon?"

Pepsi reached for her parka and retrieved a hunting knife from the pocket on the inside. The blade had been sheathed in leather and the handle was made from fine wood. Pepsi held it by the sheath, handing it off to Emmanuel. He accepted the knife and pulled the leather covering away from the blade, examining the craftsmanship of the weapon. The top of the blade was serrated and jagged, while the bottom of it had a smooth curve leading up to the pointed tip.

"How did you get this? This is a nice knife," Emmanuel asked as he placed the sheath back over the blade.

"I saw it on one of the platforms when I was coming to meet you all, so I picked it up as quickly as I could and kept running. All of the other supplies had either gotten knocked off or taken. I just grabbed what I could, really!" Pepsi replied.

"Well, thanks! I think this'll be really useful," He said, to which Pepsi nodded.

"Ready to go?" Cherry asked.

"Yep! We'll be back soon," Emmanuel told Sonora and Pepsi.

"Be careful, now!" Sonora called after them.

The pair made their way back in the direction that they had come from, examining their surroundings as they did so. The desert was honestly rather beautiful. The soft, rolling dunes and the way that the afternoon sun painted shadows across the gently sloping landscape was unlike anything Emmanuel had ever gotten to see in District Three. It looked like a painting he had seen before. In some ways, it was almost funny that something so beautiful had come from something as unfortunate as the Hunger Games. Emmanuel had always felt like irony followed him everywhere.

"Hey, Emmanuel?" Cherry's voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over them while they walked.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for helping me out of the bloodbath… I never learned how to swim, so I didn't think I was getting out of there until you came along." The District Seven girl admitted.

Emmanuel shrugged, "It was nothing, really. We're allies, you know. There's no way I was leaving without you."

"Well, thank you." Cherry said, "If you hadn't done that, I'm not sure we'd have a full alliance the way that we do now… I gotta say, it feels really great to know that we didn't lose anyone."

"Yeah! I think we have a strong start. All we really need to worry about now is food and water."

"And avoiding the other Tributes," Cherry added.

"Right, and avoiding the other Tributes. I think we've got this, though. We'll be alright." Emmanuel told her.

"Yeah… We'll be alright."

NYLE SEATON, DISTRICT FOUR

4:51 PM, THE AFTERMATH, EASTERN CABIN

The start of the Games had come and gone so quickly that Nyle could hardly believe it. It had all unfolded in just a matter of minutes. It was one thing to watch the bloodbath occur on the television in his own home, but to be apart of it and witness it in real time was another. Nyle had tried to keep his eyes off of the carnage, opting to grab what he could before fleeing and meeting up with Clarus. In his hurry, he'd actually secured a pack and three throwing knives. Clarus had also gotten his hands on a decent-sized pack.

They had quickly decided that they were off to a pretty good start.

Though, if past Games were any indicator, things could turn around in an instant. Nyle wasn't going to let himself get comfortable, but he did feel alright with relaxing a little more than he'd initially thought he'd be able to. With Clarus watching his back, he knew that everything would be alright. Besides, he was watching Clarus' back, too. Just like they had planned before the Games, they were sticking together and doing what they could to remain in the running.

For the past few hours, it had mostly been walking. Walking and collecting snow to pack into the four water containers that Clarus had in his pack. The excruciating heat was not pleasant in any way and Nyle had already experienced just about enough of it. The fact that such extreme opposites could exist in the same place at one time was a little odd to Nyle, but he knew that most of the Gamemakers' Arena implementations defied logic. He was just hoping that the weather would change soon enough.

"No way," Clarus said, coming to an abrupt halt in front of Nyle, who nearly bumped into him.

"What?" He asked, peering around his ally.

There, a run-down excuse for a cabin stood in the middle of a dinky clearing. A part of the roof had caved in completely and the door had been ripped off of the front entrance, but it sure beat wherever they'd have to sleep otherwise. Clarus charged ahead like an excited puppy, bounding through the snow and bursting through the front door of the shelter. Nyle followed suit, entering behind him and taking a look around. There was a ladder with a few steps missing that led up to a small loft meant for sleeping. The floor that they stood on was completely barren and the only other thing of note was the small window at the rear of the structure.

"It ain't much, but it's home!" Clarus announced as he took off his pack and set it on the floor, "Never thought our first bachelor pad would be in the Arena, now did'ja?"

Nyle looked up at the hole in the roof, then to the permanently ajar entrance, "What should we do about the hole? It's gonna be really rough if we're trying to sleep and then snow starts blowing into our faces, yanno?"

The District Ten boy opened up his pack and presented Nyle with a black tarp, smiling proudly, "I reckon it's an easy fix with this. I'll get up there in a second and patch it up. Just let me cool off for a while. It's miserable out here."

"You can say that again," Nyle said, "On the bright side, we don't have to get a fire going. Not in this heat, at least."

"Yeah! I'm just hoping it'll stay this way overnight… If it gets cold and the Gamemakers decide to make this place make sense, I'm gonna be one unhappy camper." Clarus joked.

Nyle chuckled, "Better watch it, Farley. You're gonna speak it into existence if you keep talking like that."

"Naw. Gamemakers have got better things to do than sit around taking suggestions from the likes of me." Clarus thought about it for a second, "But if they're listenin', I sure wouldn't mind a heaping plate of those delicious apple tart thingies… I can't remember what they're called."

"Galettes."

"Galettes!" Clarus echoed triumphantly, "Where would I be without you?"

Nyle shook his head, "A thought I don't even wanna entertain, bud."

"Hey, uh, speaking of food, though… I'm pretty hungry. Did you get any food in your pack?"

"Let me check, actually. Couldn't quite get a good look when we were out there facing the elements, yanno?" Nyle quipped as he sat down on the floor of the cabin and unzipped his pack.

The District Four boy combed through the contents of the supply bag and chewed on his bottom lip. Inside were a few water purification tablets, a space blanket, some fishing line, and a tiny first aid kit containing band-aids, gauze, and antiseptic wipes. Nyle hadn't exactly expected to bring in a feast, but he'd been hoping for at least some food. He looked over to Clarus, who was going through his pack again.

"Anything?" Clarus asked.

"Nothing. Anything on your end?"

"Nothing."

"Then I guess it's time for a good old-fashioned hunt," Clarus grinned as he jumped to his feet.

NICHOLAS CARRILLO, DISTRICT SIX

6:28 PM, THE AFTERMATH, NORTHERN CABIN

Since the loss of Henry, things had been pretty heavy. Nicholas could hardly believe that the District Nine boy was gone. Less than twenty four hours ago, he'd been so full of life. He'd been dancing like a maniac and laughing, cracking jokes with everyone and enjoying the evening. Nicholas wondered if he had known that today would be his last day.

He hadn't seen Henry die. He was grateful for that, too. But he had witnessed the aftermath of his ally's death. He had watched Atticus vomit while Elesa patted him on the back and tried to soothe him. He had seen the way that Nami's upbeat behavior had taken a considerable dip. He had recognized his own feelings pertaining to Henry's death—He had acknowledged the absence of a friend. His friend.

Making friends had never come easy to Nicholas. Now that they had been placed into his lap, now that he had made them, they were already being taken away. The District Six boy had always thought that fate was a cruel thing, but it was true now more than ever. Seeing the way that his other friends responded to the loss of one of their own was excruciating. It filled Nicholas with a sense of helplessness that brought him a great deal of discomfort.

Fortunately for himself and for the group, Nami seemed determined to lift the spirits of everyone else.

They had effectively found a place to call their own for the time being. It was a two bedroom cabin that the four of them could fit comfortably in. Elesa and Nami had decided to share one room, while Nicholas and Atticus inhabited the other. The floor wasn't going to be the most comfortable place in the world to sleep, but Nicholas knew it was far better than the alternatives that were available. Admittedly, Nicholas had already begun to feel nervous about sharing a room with Atticus. Sharing a room with Atticus likely meant that he would have to talk to him about the things that were going on around them and Nicholas had never considered himself a good conversationalist.

Now, apparently, was not the time to worry about that. Instead, Nami wanted everyone to lend a hand with catching and preparing dinner. Nicholas figured that she saw this as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone; Getting their minds off of Henry's death and providing themselves with a meal. They had moved just beyond the edge of the tree line outside of the cabin and to the small lake, where Nami handed everyone some sticks she had collected. After they used the two knives being shared among the group to sharpen the ends of their sticks into points, Nami began instructing them.

"If you see a shadow in the water, make sure that your grip on your fishing spear is tight… Then, when the shadow is getting closer to you, stab at it as quickly as you can!" Nami said as she walked along the edge of the water on the lookout for any movement.

Nicholas watched as she stopped dead in her tracks before plunging the makeshift spear into the water. When Nami pulled it out, a fish was wriggling to and fro on the pointed tip. She moved a few feet away from the edge of the water and plopped the fish off of the spear and into the snow.

"Now you guys try!" She told them.

Elesa was the first to get on her feet, moving down to the water and doing as Nami had said. Nicholas got up and meandered over to the water's edge, trying his hand at mimicking what Nami had done. Atticus took a moment, but he eventually joined in and even managed to catch a fish of his own. Nicholas nearly caught one, as did Elesa, but their lack of a catch was made up for when Nami caught two more fish on her own. After their time at the lake, they returned to the nearby cabin to begin cooking up their dinner.

Atticus and Nicholas had been tasked with collecting fuel for the fire and any future fires that they would need to make. Meanwhile, Nami and Elesa went about preparing the fish. Atticus had been armed with one of the two knives while Nicholas was left without a weapon, which was fine by him. As far as he was concerned, the thought of killing someone would only occur to him if his allies were in direct danger. For the time being, he was sure that things were okay. It was only the first night in the Arena. People needed to get settled before anything too insane happened… At least, he hoped.

"Pretty sure I heard voices somewhere along the way over here," Atticus said as they moved through the dense forest, "Wouldn't be surprised if the Careers shacked up somewhere nearby."

Nicholas' mouth threatened to go dry at the mere mention of the Careers, "Do you think they'll go out looking for other Tributes tonight?"

Atticus shrugged, "Hell if I know. All we can do is hope that the bloodbath was enough to tide those sick fucks over for the night."

"How many did they kill?" Nicholas asked.

"Five, I think… Both from Eight, the girl from Eleven, the boy from Thirteen, and…"

Nicholas felt a pang of guilt as his voice trailed off.

"And Henry." Atticus finished, "Fucking Henry."

"I-I'm sorry, Atticus—"

Before Nicholas could even process what was happening, Atticus had whirled around to face him, "Don't. Don't apologize. Don't be sorry. None of this is your fault, or my fault, or fucking anybody's fault except for the Capitol and that bitch from District One."

Despite the anger in his face, Nicholas could hear the wavering in his voice. The District Twelve boy appeared so different now than when Nicholas had first met him. When Henry had first brought him around, Nicholas had felt somewhat intimidated. Atticus didn't seem to care much what others thought of him and that was something Nicholas couldn't quite wrap his head around. He got along with everyone so well and he took no issue in saying exactly what was on his mind. It was something that Nicholas admired, something that Nicholas wasn't going to let Atticus lose while he was stuck in this Arena.

"Hey, um…" Nicholas started, "I know that, uh… You're feeling a lot of anger right now… But I promise it will go away soon. The anger doesn't stay forever… It fades away after a while."

"That's sweet and all, Nicholas… I do appreciate it, really, but there's no fucking way I'm getting over this until I can make it right," Atticus said through clenched teeth.

Nicholas felt his heart rate climbing, "What do you mean?"

The District Twelve boy turned around, continuing on to collect the firewood like they had set out to do, "I mean I'll be the one to kill her."

SETT EPICUS, DISTRICT ELEVEN

9:12 PM, THE AFTERMATH, THE RUINS

Sett's mind had been racing nonstop ever since the bloodbath.

As the minutes ticked by, he began to wonder if he'd made the right choice. After Kolton had been killed off, he had started to consider Aenea's offer again. He hadn't banked on losing a member of his alliance so early on in the Games. At the very least, the kid had taken out a member of the Career Pack. That was one less person that Sett had to worry about, as well as one less person he'd need to kill to keep Aenea at bay.

Things were falling into place too quickly for it to seem coincidental. For the entire trip to the ruins, all Sett had been able to think about was the consistency that aligning himself with Aenea would offer. It wasn't like he would be honor-bound to her, either. The second that things took a turn, he could dip out and worry about himself. If things played out the way he had a feeling they would, it would come down to himself, Aenea, and maybe one or two other members of the Pack.

The District Eleven boy sat with his thoughts, his stomach full and his body warm from the dying fire nearby. They had, technically, gotten off to a decent start. Losing an ally was never good, but they'd still set up camp and successfully hunted something to eat. Tyrell had used his handiness with a crossbow to kill a rabbit and Maine had skinned it and cooked it up for them. It was enough to get them through the night, but Sett didn't know how much longer they'd be able to go on like this.

"I can offer you supplies during my watches…" Aenea's words echoed in his mind, "It's you or them."

Sett looked toward the ruins that were a few dozen feet away. In the dim light, he could make out their figures as they rested in their sleeping bags. His gaze moved down to the brass knuckles that he had acquired from his pack. Each ring was adorned with two pointed spikes for puncturing and slashing. Other than the brass knuckles, all he had to work with was a simple dagger.

It would be so easy.

He rose to his feet, kicking some sand onto the fire to suffocate what remained of it. Wisps of smoke danced through the air until they disappeared into the cold night air. Darkness engulfed the immediate area and Sett walked toward the ruins where his allies were. He wasn't sure if they were actually asleep or not, but he figured it wouldn't be a problem. In the darkness, they wouldn't be able to make out much of what was happening. All he needed to do was take them out before they could get the jump on him.

Sett stepped onto the cracked stone floor of the ruined house, barely able to make out the silhouettes of his allies like he had been able to before. As silently as possible, he moved toward Tyrell, pulling the knife from his belt and preparing to kneel down to slit the boy's throat. He inched closer slowly, poised to strike as his breath was held deep in his chest.

In a fraction of a second, the boy had rolled onto his back and fired his crossbow at Sett. The knife fell from Sett's hands and clattered across the stone at his feet. The District Eleven boy had heard the bolt as it scraped past his ear, tearing off a portion of the cartilage and causing an instant trickle of blood to begin flowing down his neck. Sett lunged forward and knocked the crossbow from Tyrell's hands, but the District Seven boy retaliated by punching him square in the nose.

"Maine! Get up!" Tyrell shouted at the girl, who was still prone behind Sett.

He could hear her stirring behind him and he punched Tyrell in the face with his brass-clad knuckles. The sound of the punch connecting in unison with the tearing of flesh was like music to Sett's ears. His hit had found its mark and he could practically envision Tyrell's head swinging backward with the force of the blow.

As Sett whirled around on his heel, he threw a blind elbow in the general direction of Maine. Unfortunately, the girl wasn't where he thought she would be, and he only realized this when he felt her knife slashing through his parka and cutting into his arm. Sett snatched her by the wrist with his other hand, attempting to wrench the knife from her grip as he heard more movement behind him.

District Seven was still up. Sett thought he'd put him down at least temporarily. In the dark, he swore he could make out the sound of Tyrell attempting to load another bolt into the crossbow. Sett pulled back his injured arm and threw a well-placed punch at Maine. A cry of pain left her lips as the brass knuckles connected with her eye and nose, causing a stream of blood to obscure most of her vision and dribble into her mouth.

Sett hit her again, this time in the chest, sending her down to the stone floor below. Her back connected with the hard ground and he could hear the wind as it was knocked from her lungs. He descended on Tyrell again, scrambling toward him in an attempt to prevent him from firing off another bolt. He heard the click of the weapon and ducked his head as he threw himself in the boy's direction. Much to his surprise, he collided with Tyrell and sent them both toppling into the sand.

He gritted his teeth as he weathered the frantic blows that Tyrell threw at him. A few connected with his head, others connecting with his neck and shoulders as he attempted to subdue the smaller boy. As they blindly fought for their lives, Sett's fingers found the knife that had been knocked out of his hands and he grabbed it as quickly as he could. In a series of rapid movements, he plunged the knife into various parts of Tyrell's upper body. He had no idea where he was stabbing, only clued in to the unique locations by the different sounds that were produced by the act.

As he brought the knife down again, he was met with a soft popping sound. When he withdrew the blade, a warm spray was ejected from the wound and Sett realized that he had stabbed the boy directly in the neck. Tyrell's grip was still like iron as Sett attempted to free himself from his clutches. From somewhere behind him, he could once again hear Maine moving around. Sett wasn't going to let her get the jump on him if he could help it.

He punched Tyrell in the face again, causing one of the boy's hands to completely lose hold of him, at which point he pried his other hand off of his arm. He could hear the boy's ragged breaths as he attempted to take in what little air he could. The noise was almost enough to drown out the sounds of Maine's approach. Almost.

Sett threw a punch in the direction of the noise. When his fist didn't connect with anything, he went to throw another, but found himself on the receiving end of a punch to the face. He took a step back from the blow, recovering in time to throw another hook in Maine's direction. Unlike the first, this one landed, sending Maine to the ground again. Sett kicked as hard as he could in front of himself, feeling the toe of his boot collide with the girl's ribcage.

She gasped in agony as Sett kicked her again, and again, and again. When he was certain he knew where her body was lying on the sand, he kneeled down and pushed her onto her back. With the help of his brass knuckles, he landed a hefty blow against her temple, which made her body go limp. As Sett rose to his feet, the boom of a cannon sounded out over the Arena. He glanced over to where he had left Tyrell's body, still able to hear the wheezing of his shallow breaths.

It was me or them.

Without looking back, Sett gathered up the supplies leftover and took off toward the opposite side of the Arena.

He had a Career to find.

THE FALLEN

19th Place: Maine Guernesey, District Ten - Cause of Death: Killed by Sett Epicus

18th Place: Tyrell Oxton, District Seven - Cause of Death: Killed by Sett Epicus

EULOGIES

Tyrell Oxton, District Seven - Tyrell was a dazzling inspired submission that I was utterly blown away by. Getting into his head and figuring out the things that made him tick, if only for a short while, was a really fun experience. I think that he was an incredibly strong contender for the mental and social aspects of the Games, but I felt that his intellect and charisma also had the potential to do him in. Thank you to Manny Siliezar for submitting him!

Maine Guernesey, District Ten - Maine was such an alluring character with so many different sides to her, I truly wish I could have made that stand out more during her time on screen. I adored the fact that she had this prickly way about her that could be peeled away when it really needed to be. I truly feel like Maine and Tyrell could have made it far together, but unfortunately, this was where their stories drew to a close. Thank you to apricitybloom for submitting her!

KILL COUNT - END OF DAY ONE

Sett Epicus, District Eleven: III.

Erebor Pierce, District One: I.

Aenea Regina Singh, District One: I.

Leona Solari, District Two: I.

Clio St. Francis, District Three: I.

Isaac Oppenheimer, District Five: I.

[DECEASED] Kolton Falco, District Eight: I.