Nightmares make me toss and turn on the rocks and sticks I've laid down on. I wake up in cold sweat, but the balmy air warms me up soon enough. I'm greeted by moonlight, staring up at the foliage.

Something in the air has made me not want to alert others that I'm awake. I look around slowly to see that Jax and Irene have taken the watch. They sit side by side, talking in low voices, their backs to me. I don't know how long it's been before they stand up, grabbing their weapons swiftly.

I let out a strangled scream right before mace comes down. The cannon blows immediately and I scramble up, grabbing a rock in the process. Irene had been gunning for Flayre and turns for me but it's too late. The rock hits her in the shoulder, and I hear a sickening crunch.

One of Flayre's arrows pokes through Irene's chest seconds later, Glinter aiming one of his knives at Jax.

He senses he will lose this fight, turning and running into the woods. Glinter's knife lodges in his left arm, but he barely falters.

The night goes calm again. Crickets chirp, leaves rustle.

The Capitol must be rolling right now. Who could have foreseen this? Career packs usually only betray each other after half of the tributes have died, or the leader picks them off one by one. This turn of events must be making the betting tables richer and richer.

I go over to Marina, who has reforged my opinion of District 4. Sponsors be damned, I close her eyes, saying the words we speak over animals that die in our District.

"Now you will return to the dirt as you came from it, as sure as the sun rises in the sky."

There's another cannon boom, and we all look around, but there are no disturbances around us. Seems like the tributes from District 2 were not the only ones to kill tonight.

We don't speak, but we pack up our things and continue. We don't worry about the weapons we're leaving behind, the hovercraft will pick them up before anyone else can get their hands on them.

I am sandwiched between Glinter and Flayre but it has happened naturally. I suppose we've ordered ourselves in the range of our weapons should we come upon a threat. Plus, I'm in the middle because I'm relatively useless.

Our pack has grown so small that I don't fear another betrayal yet. There are still 12 more people out there trying to kill us.

When night comes again, we stop to rest. I eat some more dried meat, sitting with a sigh.

"Do you think they had that planned from the beginning?" Flayre seems sad. I'm surprised, actually, that she put that much faith in the two. It's the Hunger Games, anything is possible.

"I think they were going to kill Marina and me." I frown. "I'm not sure why you were included too."

"You showed your worth." She motions to the woods, and I guess she's right. I'm good at following things. "And I killed that girl."

"They also knew you liked Marina and Sable." Glinter frowns. "They were going to kill all of us."

He turns to me. "But you were awake. You're the reason we're alive."

I shake my head. "I get nightmares. It's not because I'm psychic or anything."

"What do you get nightmares about?"

"I can't remember them." I shrug. It's true. I'm blessed not to know what my brain torments me with at night, although every once in a while there are things that come back to me.

"I dream about my family." He lays back, putting his hands behind his head. "They're not nightmares, but … I wake up with a weird feeling. Things are always off in them. My sister looks different, or my mother is missing, or something is out of place."

"I have nightmares." Flayre shudders. "My cousin's Games were unpleasant. When she died…"

So that's why Flayre was so popular, aside from her District 1 status. She's an old tribute's family member, and probably a popular tribute.

"My brother died too. In the Games." I lean my head back against the trunk.

The anthem begins playing.

Irene is shown first. She is fierce in her picture, and I'm glad that she's gone. Marina is next, and I frown. She was kind to me at the end, and I wish I could have known her longer.

I'll kill Jax, I think, for her. I can tell that Flayre and Glinter are angry too. We may have to flip a coin on that one.

We wander around the woods for a few more days, eating from our Cornucopia provisions and drinking water from the occasional stream trickling through the trees.

On the sixth day, we see that the girl from District 6 has died. No cannon sounded near us, so I assume someone in the desert had found her.

We celebrate our week of survival with a day of lounging around, talking about random things. I don't really know why we haven't run into anyone, but I suppose that the arena is on the larger side this year.

There must be more interesting things going on in other parts of the arena because the Gamemakers leave us alone until the eighth day.

Glinter is talking about the industry in District 1. Diamond cutters, goldsmiths, merchants — all the careers he could have chosen if he wasn't Reaped.

He's cut off by the sound of water rushing. I look around, and through the trees, I see that there's a wall of water flooding into the woods. We all stand, and I tighten the straps on my backpack quickly. It seems the Gamemakers have tired of leaving us in relative peace.

"Climb." Glinter and Flayre begin to scale the trees, but I've never been one for climbing. I'm hopeless at it, actually. There aren't many trees to climb in 10, and the ones that exist have low, user-friendly branches like the tree I found during the bloodbath. These are deeper in the woods, and there's no way for me to get up.

The water is rushing closer, and I look at my allies, who have already climbed higher than I would dream to. "I'll meet up with you."

Then I take off running.

I'm not sure where to, because the water is getting closer and closer, and I know it's coming from the river. so I can't get to the desert.

When the water sloshes past my knees, I give up and let it rise. I can swim well enough, but this current is more like a waterfall than a river.

I'm lifted off of my feet seconds after stopping, and I'm glad my pack is so secure because anything loose would have been lost. I'm slammed into trees, hit by branches, cut by leaves. Every once in a while something forces me under the water for far too long, and I almost think about giving up before I fight my way to the surface again.

I've been rushed far away from any semblance of familiarity, and I quickly give up my plan to meet back up with them. There will be no tracks to follow, no sense of direction.

I'm not sure if it's the adrenaline running through me or what, but several times I swear I see dark shapes moving through the water. Creatures with glowing eyes. One brushes my leg, but when I kick at it my foot hits nothing.

I blame it on the concussion I've probably acquired.

I don't know how long I've been nearly drowning while acquiring blunt force trauma, but the water slowly calms down and I'm left floating, almost serenely, through the trees. After a few minutes, I am laying on solid ground, and then the water is gone, and I am sopping wet.

It's so hot that I don't care about that, though, more concerned about the aching throughout my body. I don't think about walking quite yet, blowing the rest of the water out of my lungs and nose, regaining my breath. I wiggle my toes, relieved I can feel them, but my left arm is another story. My fingertips are cold and tingly, and my shoulder feels like … well, it feels like I was slammed repeatedly into a lot of trees. It's worse than getting bucked off onto packed dirt.

But not worse enough to make me quit.

I grit my teeth and stand. My body aches in protest, but I don't care.

I think the water was loud enough to drown out any cannon sounds, so if anyone was killed in the flood I wouldn't know. I hope it took out a few, that would satisfy the people in the Capitol for at least a few hours.

I'm alone, though, and in the woods, so I unsheath a knife and start moving slowly. My joints protest and my entire back feels like a big bruise, but my head miraculously feels fine.

After the flood, the last thing I want is to drink more water, but eventually, my mouth feels cotton dry. I pull out the water bottle I stuffed in my bag, but it's half full. I need to find the river.

I check the sun. It's mid-afternoon, so it's straight up in the sky. Unhelpful. I sit, waiting for it to start setting. If I'm correct, the sun was on my back on the way in, so if I head towards it I should go back out. Should. Who knows what things the Gamemakers have changed.

I can't see more than thirty yards around me in any direction in this damned forest.

My hair is sopping wet and heavy, finally coming out of the miraculous updo that it's been in since the beginning of the Games. I don't know what to do with it: a braid would be grabbed, a bun would come out too easily. I grab a knife, preparing myself, and start hacking away at it.

The hair falls in a circle around me. It's choppy and probably as unattractive as it gets, but it's chin-length and out of my way now. I look down at the ropes of hair, deciding that it can work as braiding material for a whip. I get to work, making the smallest of fires to burn the hair together when the tinkling sound of a parachute fills my ears.

The silver parachute drops down and lands by my feet. Attached is a whip, coiled up like a snake. It's golden, new, and the handle has a small button on the hilt. I push it and a short stiletto blade shoots out.

I uncoil it, noticing that the tip has about a two inch-length of sharp wire.

This is a killing whip.

Lihn knows I'm alone and in no shape to grapple. She's decided I'm worth the effort to protect.

I wonder what this cost. This is the second weapon ever to be gifted in the Games, the other being Finnick Odair's trident.

Perhaps people really are betting on me. I suppose it is the eighth day and I'm still alive, somehow.

I look up so the cameras have a clear shot of my grin. "Thank you."

While I sit, I investigate the poisons a little more. Taking the largest one out, I run the wire part of my whip through the loose tendrils of hair to get it wet, and dip it in the powder a few times, careful not to touch it. Then, I loop the shining thing in a loose circle and clip it on my belt.

My clothing has put up with the abuse surprisingly well. My boots are treated, it seems, because there's no water damage at all. The jacket has some tears and a bloodstain from the boy of District 6, but the pants are sturdy because there's not a rip to be seen.

Once again, the sun begins setting quickly. I make a note of it, but remember what Lihn said.

Do your work at night.

I let myself go to sleep, which isn't hard with the state I'm in now.


When I wake up, it's by the anthem playing.

I turn with a groan at how sore I am, staring up at the sky.

Nobody from Districts 1-10 have died today.

So Flayre and Glinter have both survived. Good for them. I hope someone kills them first so I don't have to.

Both tributes from 11 show up. I wonder if they were killed by the flood, but I also think about those creatures I saw. Maybe they were on the prowl, but for different prey. I shudder, because who knows what the Gamemakers have come up with.

Niyu is still out here too. He survived the flood if he's still in the woods, or he could be in the desert. Perhaps he thinks about where I am too.

Then the crunching of boots on twigs snaps me out of my reverie. I've slept with the knife in my hands, but I quickly put it in its sheath on my belt. It's useless compared to what I have now.

I unclip the whip, uncoiling it. The sun has already set and I can see well enough, so I sit up and rise slowly to my feet.

I still feel like shit.

Another twig snaps to my right. I hope the poison does its job because there's no way I can face 2 tributes otherwise. I'm too stiff to move quickly.

The one on my left comes first. The whip winds around her throat and I yank it, the wire cutting into her neck instantly. The one on the right charges shortly after, and I barely unwind the whip in time to grab the sword out of her hands with it, yanking it to the ground. I lash quickly at her face, and she grabs the wound. It's already blossoming with red, but I wrap it around her leg, tugging her to the ground. She doesn't get back up.

Their bodies convulse on the ground for a long time, hours maybe, and I realize I'm sobbing. I can't listen to it anymore and drive the blade attached to the whip handle through each throat.

Fantastic. The Capitol sponsors must be going wild.

I look down at the first girl. The tribute from 7. She's got foam on her chin, and I sob even more. I close her eyes, whispering the words over her. I walk over to the other girl, from 9, and do the same with her.

I suppose Marina influenced me even more than I thought.

I decide this will be the last act of softness that I will show. Clyde whispered the words over the boy he killed, and he was seen as weak and soft throughout the Capitol for it. Perhaps he was remembered kindly in 10, and in the boy's district, but nowhere else was it praised.

I will not be a weakling.

I force myself to quit the awful sobs that wrack my body, drying my tears, and letting a mask slip over my face. The poison worked quickly, but not quickly enough against an enemy like Jax or March. They would not let the pain take them out so swiftly.

I force myself to leave the bodies, grabbing my pack on the way. I head past the marker I set for myself to let me know where the river was, and start walking.

I'm probably half a mile to the river when I hear strange little hissing noises. I turn back, stopping my steady pace, and see a strange, pale creature looking back at me. It hisses again, and I see a long forked tongue flick past needle-sharp teeth.

The hiss must be a call for dinner because more join and stare at me. Well, I'm not sure if they can stare because they don't have eyes, but their heads are pointed in my direction.

Mutts. There are at least five of them. I can't move, staring at their claws instead. Almost as long as their teeth and curved into vicious points. They remind me of miniature versions of Irene's sword.

All of them hiss at once, and they crouch down.

Then I run. I run faster than I did after the gong sounded, and I'm sure it's due to the fear coursing its way through my veins. I have never felt fear like this. Those things would kill me in minutes, ripping me apart. I'm sure they would eat me afterward. I do not want to be their evening meal.

The hissing continues, and I feel something grab at my leg, but I can't stop. I keep pumping my arms, thankful that I'd been training on the treadmill this whole week because if I didn't I'd be dead.

I reach the river and dive in. I don't think about how I'd been in the water just hours before, but of the desert and running as fast as I can.

Something lands on top of me, grabbing my head, pushing me down to the bottom of the river, and I scream. I twist and turn, grabbing for the knife strapped to my belt, slashing at the thing over and over, and some horrible sound reaches my ears through the water.

I surface, panting heavily. One of the mutts is floating beside me, dead, and I look for the rest. They're at the bank of the river where I dove in, staring at me with their faceless heads. They hiss in unison again, and I hiss back, but they're already turning and running back into the river.

I hate mutts.

Panting, I swim to the other side quickly. One side of my head is burning, and I know the stupid thing scratched me good. I'm very glad there are no mirrors in the Games, though I'm sure I look great on camera.

I try to think about anything wound-related that I know. The boy from 10 a few years back died from an infection, though the cut was relatively small and shallow. That can't happen to me, not when I've made it this far. Not when I have Niyu's token to return to his father, though I doubt he'll even want it.

Niyu. I wonder if he has encountered these mutts, or if he's seen something equally as hellish.

I vaguely remember my mother when I cut my arm after a fall. She stopped the bleeding first, so I press my hand to my head. I wish I didn't, because now I can feel exactly what that thing did to me.

Three long tears starting dangerously close to my left eye and going all the way to the crown of my head.

My hand won't do anything against the blood flowing through my fingers, so I think about what else to do.

Clearly, slamming into trees, shock, or adrenaline (or a combination) have lowered my intelligence, because I'm halfway thinking about ripping up my jacket before I remember the first aid kit.

I fish it out of my pack and thank the Gamemakers that it's waterproof because there are basic supplies I need right now, and if they were ruined I'd be much worse off. I pour a small vial of alcohol onto a gauze pad and press it over the wounds.

It stings like a bitch, but I'm right out in the open, so I force myself to pack up and stand. I fill up the water bottle and put a tablet of iodine in it, putting it in my bag to purify while I start walking.

Blood trickles from some claw marks on my leg, and I can feel several holes in my back from the claws, but none are very deep and so I don't even pay attention to them.

Running has taken a toll on my already battered body, and I have to go even slower than I was before. My hips feel absolutely wrecked, and my back has some tingling sensation that I do not like.

I barely make it to the Cornucopia before I have to stop. Thankfully there's nobody inside, so I stumble in and slouch against the walls. I've been gritting my teeth to keep from crying the whole walk, and I know something has happened to my back in the past few days. Either the flood, running, or that thing slamming into me has done major damage. The most I can hope for is that the next few days pass quickly enough that the Capitol can heal me still.

The sun has begun to come up, and I let myself drift off into sleep again.

My last few thoughts are of Niyu, Brey, and my sister.