Chapter 33- Astrid Clearwater

"I say we put the plastic between two trees; then we'll collect water if it rains." I shake the tarp that we received a few hours ago in a parachute; the plastic makes a crinkling sound. This couldn't have cost much to send, so either our mentors are cheap, or there's not much money to spend. With three districts working together, you'd think they'd be able to pull together some funds. Especially since we have Elowyn.

"That could work," Tilling says timidly. She hasn't offered an original opinion since she joined the alliance, choosing instead to agree with whoever's talking. It's annoying.

"Put it down lower in the bushes so we can sleep under it, and we'll put some ferns over it to camouflage the tarp," Elowyn says, taking the plastic from me. "It's not going to do us any good if tributes going by find us."

"Go ahead," I say, my attention already turning to gathering up the basket of food that's still half full from earlier. We ate the meat right away, since it wouldn't keep, but we still have bread and fruit. And water from the pond. We've elected to stay here on the hill for the night, since it's close to water and it's as good a place as any. Well, Elowyn and I decided to stay here; Tilling just went along with it.

"Tilling, give me a hand," Elowyn says, using the strings from the parachutes to attach the tarp to the trees close to the ground. It's going to be a snug night tonight.

All around me shadows are falling on the plants and flowers of the rainforest; what little light still shining through the trees is of a queer quality. I didn't know how we would see the faces in the sky tonight, since we're surrounded by trees, but I managed to find a patch of trees where you can see through to the sky above, just a few feet away from where I'm standing now. Tonight, once all the light is gone, I'll stand here and see who's left the arena, and figure out who's been left behind.

"Astrid, what do you think?" Elowyn and Tilling stand next to the tarp, now attached at the two top corners to the trees, with the bottom lying on the ground. "We can use it like a blanket this way."

"Should work," I say, bringing the basket of food over and sliding it underneath the plastic. "Get some water; we won't be able to see much in a few minutes."

After scooping as much water as I can into my mouth, I dry my hands off on my pants and go back to the tarp, sitting down on the ground beside it. Small bugs crawl through the dirt; I hate them, have always hated bugs.

"How are we going to see the faces tonight?" Tilling asks, coming to sit beside me.

"There's a spot over there," I say, pointing, "That you can see up and through. That's how."

"Let's eat a little bit more, just in case we need to move tonight," Elowyn says, pulling the basket back out. "Here, each of you take a roll for now."

We three sit in silence, eating bread and watching the dark come down around us like a blanket. Instead of warmth, however, the night brings cold. I can hear Tilling's teeth chattering next to me. Our jackets don't do anything against the biting chill of the dark; we just have to stick it out until morning.

"With three of us under there we'll be warm," Elowyn says. I can barely see her now; just a pale grey figure with white braids. I think there's a full moon tonight; the ground ahead of us is streaked in white light.

I'm a city girl, and I don't know a lot about the outdoors, like both Elowyn and Tilling seem to. Their hands are callused from hard work, work that they've been assigned since they were children probably. In District 3, we're assigned our roles once we graduate school. The lucky ones get to take higher education; the rest of us are sent to manual labor in the factories.

All I've ever known are the cracked streets, the factories, the rundown apartments like my own that are all over the city. So different from where I am now. I'm not sure whether to hate the trees or love them. Elowyn loves the trees; her face softens when she looks at them. I don't think Tilling is used to trees either, though. Her face tenses when she looks at them.

Once the only light comes from the moon, the anthem starts up. "Let's go, follow me," I say, standing up and stretching out my seized up limbs. Tilling and Elowyn follow behind me until we all stand under the open patch of sky.

"Who do you think died today?" Tilling whispers.

"I don't know," I whisper back. We'll find out in a second.

The first face to appear is the girl from 4, the Career who didn't volunteer; who I marked as weak that first day of Training. So she's dead and the Careers are down to four. That bodes well for us.

The second is the boy from 7, Kiril. Next to me Elowyn puts her face in her hands and shudders a few times, but she doesn't cry.

"No weakness here," I whisper to her, wrapping my arms around my ally and I try to hold her from the pain.

"I know," she whispers, but keeps her breathing in check. "I hope he went out quietly. I hope he didn't suffer; he was only fourteen. I knew him from home. He loved to read." I remember her saying he was weak, but I know she didn't wish his death. He had to die for me to get home, though. They all have to.

"I'm sorry." No more faces appear in the sky; those two were the only ones to die today. The anthem finishes its last strains and then the seal disappears, leaving us in darkness. At first I think that the only light comes from the moon, but then my eyes adjust and I see something far more beautiful.

The skies are filled with stars; thousands and millions of them, all sparkling in a velvet darkness. Are they real or just a trick of the Gamemakers? If it's a trick, it's a beautiful one. Beside me, Tilling catches her breath as she looks up too.

"They're like that at home," she whispers. Her arm reaches up, I can see it in the faint moonlight; almost as if she wants to touch them. "The stars will always guide us home."

"Where is that from?" I ask. Tilling shrugs.

"An old District 9 saying. My mother says it to me a lot: the stars will always guide us home."

"What does it mean?"

"Wherever we are, the stars show us that we're connected and we're home. They're everywhere, so my mother might be looking at them right now, and we're connected then. Wherever the stars are, that's where home is."

"Do you really believe that this is home?" I ask, sarcasm edging into my tone. If Tilling catches it, she doesn't say.

"No. Yes. Maybe." Tilling goes silent for a minute then says, "I'm probably not going to leave this place, so for now this is my home. And then I'll join the stars and be home there too."

District 9 has some strange customs and beliefs, I guess. Still, I can't help but imagine Mama and Axel looking up at the sky, and even though you can't see many stars in District 3, they might be thinking of me, like I am of them. Maybe the stars do connect us all.

"Let's all go lie down before we freeze," I say, leading Elowyn back to the tarp and almost tripping over a stick on the way. Tilling lingers at the clearing for a moment more, then follows us.

"I'll take first watch," I say, climbing under the plastic. The ground sucks the warmth right out of you; we're doing this shelter wrong. "Hold on; I'll fold the tarp under so we're not on the ground." Luckily, it's long enough for me to do that and still be able to stretch out fairly well.

"Goodnight," I say once we're all lying down. Tilling's in the middle, Elowyn's on the far side, and I'm closest to the clearing side. I'm not tired, and I'm not sure the others are either. We're all lost inside our own heads; Elowyn grieves for Kiril; Tilling grieves for home; and I?

I think of stars.

Shore Seawind

"You get some rest; I'll keep watch and make sure the fire stays lit," I say to my three allies. I can see them by the light of the small fire we've lit on the beach. Aggie's face looks mysterious in flames and shadows.

"Fine by me; I'm tired," Dominicus says, flopping down on the sand next to the fire and closing his eyes immediately. He doesn't have any guilt over killing a boy today; actually, when the District 7 boy's face appeared in the sky, he laughed.

"You sure, Shore?" Tiara says.

"Yeah. You sleep; I'll wake you in a few hours," I say.

"Alright then. Don't let me sleep too long," she says, lying down near Dominicus. Aggie looks at me, her eyes dark and light at the same time from the firelight. She doesn't say anything; just nods once and lies down, closing her eyes. They can sleep; I won't be able to. Not for a while, anyway.

The breeze is particularly strong out here on the beach, making me pull my jackets closer around me. I put the raincoat I got from the Cornucopia on over top of my uniform jacket; it doesn't help much, but it's something. The fire helps more.

This is the end of Day 2, and we're down two allies already. I sit forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and rub my face in my hands. Cloak's dead, Kelpie's dead. Both died in water.

The ocean has always been my safe haven, and even now hearing the waves wash up on the beach makes me feel like I'm home. This is the place I was named for after all: Shore. I've seen the sea in all of its moods; from smooth, sparkling water; to storms that threatened to capsize the Jewel and drown me and Da. I believed that the ocean would look out for me when I was a kid. I felt safe in the water.

"Make sure she retains some dignity in death. She's a sweet girl. Don't let her suffer." Mags's words repeat in my head; what she said to me on the roof that one night. Now that Kelpie's dead, I hope that I fulfilled my promise to Mags well enough. I don't believe Kelpie suffered, and she died on her own terms.

Kelpie had to die anyway, and it wasn't my fault, so why do I feel so guilty?

Da's always told me that the ocean gives and the ocean takes away. "It's the balance of life," he said once, while pulling a net full of fish onto the Jewel. "The sea gave us this fish, but it will also pull one of our own back into the sea before the year is over. That's the balance."

"Why should we take the fish then, if one of our fishermen has to die for us to get it?"

I'll always remember that Da set down the end of the net and looked at me, hard. I wasn't more than ten when I asked the question, but I'll never forget the answer. "Without the fish we will die, and so will our livelihoods. Our lives are built around the sea; how could we give it up? The ocean is alive, and it will give and give until it can't give any more; and then it takes back."

"It could be one of us next," I said.

"It could be. But I'd be happy to give my life to keep the fish coming in." I remember thinking how superstitious Da was, and really, how all the fishermen were. Since then, I think I've started to believe it, though.

So now that the ocean has taken twice, when will it start giving back?

The fire crackles behind me, so I use a prong of my trident to stir the coals. I take a piece of wood we pulled out of the jungle and place it in the flames, then poke it a few times for good measure. The flames leap into the air, then disappear into nothingness at their very peak. Fire is beautiful, but not as beautiful as the ocean, in my opinion.

I am water; I have never been fire. I'm more inclined to flow somewhere else, or move a mountain when I need to, rather than burn and destroy what I have.

They voted me here, but right now I'd flow into the ocean and go home. Back to Thalassa, who's the only one who matters. I don't even matter; it's all for her. I'm going to win for her, and for the life we're supposed to make together. I touch the shell necklace, to make sure it's still there. I feel the rough edges of the shell and it reminds me of her.

I loved her for a long time before I told her. She was my friend when we were kids, but I only fell in love with her when I turned fourteen. She fell in love with me two years later. We've had a lifetime together already; I want that to continue going forward. I have to win. For her. For me. For everyone in District 4. And even for Kelpie. She didn't deserve the end she got.

The stars spin above me; an endless galaxy of light. I can see some of the constellations that Da taught me while we were sailing late; Orion, Andromeda, Aquilae. "As long as you can see the stars, you can find your way home," he said.

With the stars above me, the sand below me, and the ocean in front of me, I can almost believe I am at home. Thalassa always teased me about getting her a star; she said that if I really loved her, I would go into the sky and pull down a star for her to keep.

When I win, I'll pull a star down for Thalassa, and she can dance in starlight. She would be so beautiful in starlight.

When I win I'll give her a star.

Iry Coppersmith

My legs hurt from staying still, and I'm thirsty. I'm scared to move, even though I'm fairly sure Celosia is asleep. She hasn't found me yet, but she's still It, and we're still playing hide and seek. The longer I stay hidden, the longer I stay alive. But I'm cold, and it's dark, and I'm scared.

Maybe I'll move just enough that I can put my blanket over me; the ferns rustle a bit while I move around, but no more than what the wind is already doing. Celosia doesn't wake up, and I'm a little less cold when I hug the blanket to me and try to block everything out.

Terra, help me! If she could, she would, I know. She must be so worried back in the Capitol. I'm safe while the arena's dark, but once the sun rises and Celosia wakes up, she might see me. She won't stay here forever, and she might find me and kill me.

I can't let that happen.

My fingers find my necklace, slipping through the hole in the ring. It's funny, but the person I want most right now isn't Terra; it's Shuttle. I don't know why. She's taken care of me off and on since I was eight, so maybe that's why. She's like my auntie. She thought I could win. Thinks I can win. I hope.

I want to be anywhere but right here; in the Capitol, in Victor's Village, on a train, anywhere but the arena. I'm so scared; something could happen at any moment and I'd be dead. I don't want to die. I'm only thirteen!

Above me, the night sky is full of stars, more than I could ever count. I've always wished on the first star that appears each night, but I'm too late to find the first one. I'll pick my favorite star and wish on that instead. After looking at the sky for a few minutes, I find it; it's a little bigger than the rest, and shinier.

Help me figure out a way to get away from Celosia. That's my wish. There's a lot more that I want, but I'll keep it short for tonight. If I'm still around tomorrow, I'll make another wish on another star.

It was Terra who taught me to find the stars and wish on them. "If you find the first star and wish on it, then your wish will come true," she said, pointing up at the night sky. We would watch for them out of the window above my bed, in our old house on Engineering Road. I haven't thought about that house for a long time now. But I remember the windows that my father put in, and Terra showing me the stars.

I want my sister.

I let go of my ring and put my hand down on the ground; it brushes against something large and rough. It feels like a rock, a medium sized one with jagged edges. It must have dropped down from the cliff. How many more rocks could land on me tonight? Better not think about it.

Suddenly I think I know how I can get away from Celosia, and it's not going to be running away from her, but going to her. I feel cold all over, and it's not because of the wind.

Terra promised me I wouldn't have to kill anyone in this arena, that I could just hide and nobody would hurt me or find me. I'm going to be found tomorrow, and then Celosia will hurt me. My hands shake and my teeth chatter with the thought of my plan. Scared, scared, scared.

My sister can't save me, Shuttle can't save me; nobody can. Nobody is going to come and help me escape. I'm going to have to save myself. I could run away into the forest behind me, but what would I run into there? I'm thirteen; I'm the youngest now. I'm the target.

I don't want to, but I push the blanket off of me and grab the rock in both hands; it's heavier and sharper than I thought it would be. I'm scared. I don't want to do this. I have to be strong; this is how a tribute becomes a victor. I don't want to be strong. I want to be eight again, without a care in the world.

I hope Terra can forgive me; I wished on the stars like she taught me, and they showed me how to change the game of hide and seek.

I have to be It.

Nell Slatefield

It's dark, and I'm still stuck in a tree. Azlon's still awake; he's lit a small fire where he cleared the brush away, and now he's just sitting, looking into the flames. I'm not sure how long I've been here, or how long I have until he just decides to climb up and kill us, but it's time to go.

As quietly as I can, I unzip the backpack and pull out the slingshot. Azlon looks sharply over at me, but says nothing. I doubt he can see me; the light from the fire doesn't go too far. What am I going to use as ammo for my slingshot? I feel around, hoping to find a nut or something, but all I feel is bark. Fine, bark will work too, just not as well as something round would.

I really hope Trestle can get his act together when I start shooting these things off; we've got to be able to get out of here and run right away, before Azlon can come after us. If we can lose him in the dark, then we have a chance.

Pulling off a thick piece of bark about the size of a cherry, I load it into the slingshot, aim, and fire over Azlon's head. The bark taps against a tree, then falls; Azlon's head whips towards the noise and he grabs his knife. I pull off another bark and shoot that one too; it hits a tree. Azlon tenses even further.

Get ready to run, Trestle, I think. I hope he has the sense to figure out the plan; he suggested it after all. Another piece of bark gets shot off, hitting farther away this time. Azlon can't see what it is, but he can certainly hear it. For once, I stay quiet.

I can see him debating; should he go after the noise, which could just be a bird (or bark), or stay here and wait for us to get thirsty enough to come down? Decisions, decisions. Maybe another bark piece will help him decide.

This one hits closer than the others ones, rustling the bushes when it falls. Not a lot, mind you, but just enough that it gets Azlon to make up his mind. Grabbing his knife tighter, he leaves the circle of firelight and walks towards where the last bark fell.

Time to go.

I swing myself over the edge of the hill and drop down; it's farther than I thought it would be and I hit the ground hard, sliding down through ferns and who knows what else. Is Trestle coming? He's got to, if he's smart enough. And the way he talks about his escapades back home, I think he is smart enough to follow me.

The hill levels out and I skid to a stop; my feet hurt from the rocks I hit on the way down, and I'm fairly sure I'm bleeding somewhere, but it's good enough for me to have gotten away. Do I wait for Trestle or get out of here?

Someone screams from up on the hill, and it doesn't sound like Trestle. Azlon. No cannon, no cannon; what's going on? The screaming intensifies until I want to put my hands over my ears and block it out. Something awful is happening up there and I don't know, don't want to know.

I almost scream myself when somebody lands next to me with a thump. "Get up and go," Trestle hisses at me, leaping up off the ground and running; I go after him, the screams still echoing in my ears.

We don't talk, just run, curving around the base of the hill and going towards the direction where Azlon came from. It's mostly level; covered in rocks and branches and roots that trip me and cut my feet. I hurt; I hurt all over, but I have to run because Trestle is ahead of me, and if I stop for a second, I'll lose him and be alone in the dark. I don't want to be alone.

"Slow down!" I half whisper, half call to Trestle, but either he doesn't hear me or he doesn't care, because he just keeps going. I hit my head against something hard and rough; maybe a tree branch. I don't know. Warmth runs down my face; I don't even bother to brush it away.

Oh wonderful, the ground's getting steeper again. Soon I'm climbing after Trestle, hands hurting, toes being cut by rocks. I've gone barefoot all my life, and I usually prefer it, but I've never been in a forest before; never been in a place with so many bloody rocks. I hate this place! Why couldn't they have dropped us in an orchard or something?

After what seems like an eternity, I pull myself up at the top of the hill and immediately step into a pool of water. Perfect. Cut, bleeding, and now wet. Trestle's standing nearby; I can't see him but I can hear him panting.

"We got away," he whispers, then laughs a little. "See, the Weasel can get out of any situation."

"I got us out of that," I say. I'm still gripping the slingshot in my right hand; I pass it to my left and open and close my fingers, trying to get feeling back into them.

"But I gave you the idea in the first place." Trestle claps his hand on my shoulder. "Good job, ally."

"Thanks," I say, feeling my head. My fingers come away wet and sticky. I hate blood. The worst thing is when somebody does something wrong at home and they get whipped for it in the town square. I've seen too many whippings to count, and every single one of them has lodged in my mind. How their backs grow bloodier and bloodier with every stroke, until the Peacekeeper cuts them down and leaves them to bake in the District 11 sun.

Sometimes they're salvageable, other times they end up in the cemetery.

"Let's get out of this pond," Trestle says, splashing his way forward. I follow him, over to a place on the ground where the moon shines in through the trees. I wonder who was in the sky tonight; I didn't get a chance to see. Hope it was a Career.

I shove the slingshot back into the pack, then put the pack back on. You never know when you have to run. While Trestle sits down on a log that I can't see, I look up through the gap in the trees.

The sky is full of stars, and they're beautiful. I smile, even though every inch of me is aching. No cannons. Azlon's still out there. He could find us tonight or tomorrow or the next day. But we escaped tonight because of me.

The stars are particularly bright tonight, aren't they?

Terra Coppersmith

Even though the lights are the same as always, it really does feel like midnight in the Viewing Hall. There're only a few mentors around; one for every station. Except for Station 8, where it's me and Woven staying up late, watching the screens, horrified at what we're seeing.

"I want him dead," Woven says tersely. "Him and his fool of an ally."

The boy from District 6 took a piece of wood from Azlon's fire and threw it at Azlon while escaping. That piece of wood lit Azlon on fire. He's not dead, but he's burned badly now, lying half-conscious in the ferns.

"He'll die," I say, watching as the boy and his ally, the loudmouthed one from 11, end up on the hill right by the trio comprised of 3, 7, and 9. I wonder if the Capitol people will stay up tonight to watch, or if they'll just catch the recap in the morning. "They're too much trouble to keep alive."

Woven leans forward and buries her face in her hands. "I know we've chosen Iry, but I can't not help Azlon too. Not after what just happened." I look between the three screens; the big one has now switched to the boy from 9 getting attacked by crocodile mutts, while Azlon lies in the ferns unmoving and Iry huddles in the bushes, hiding from Celosia.

"Okay," I say, reaching for the chart of our expenses and how much pecuniae we still have. Woven pulls her head out of her hands and starts flipping through the gift options.

"Burn medicine; burn medicine," she mutters, then stops. "Here. We can send this."

I compare the cost of the medicine to the chart I'm holding. "That'll wipe our pecuniae out completely," I say.

"I'll get some more tomorrow. We'll get more sponsors; I just can't leave him like that," Woven says, closer to tears than I've ever seen her. I'm blocking out what Azlon must be feeling; he's not supposed to win, that's Iry. Iry who's sitting a few feet away from her potential murderer.

"Send it," I say. Woof's not going to be happy, but I'll leave that to Woven to explain. She hits the picture of the medicine, and just like that, a parachute floats down towards Azlon, landing directly next to him.

I don't see what he does with it, or if he can even move, because Woven's grabbed my arm. "What's Iry doing?"

The cameras give us heat sensitive footage, so we can see the tributes in the dark. Because of this, I can see Iry standing up, holding a rock. A big rock. "I don't know," I say, leaning closer. What is she doing?

Taking small, careful steps, Iry walks towards the sleeping District 12 girl; she looks determined, but terrified at the same time. My sister- what is she doing?

Suddenly, I understand.

"No! Iry, no!" I say, much too loud for midnight. Arla, the drunk from District 9, looks over from where she was dozing on her desk, but for once she doesn't say anything. "Iry, put the rock down!" I hiss.

"She can't hear you!" Arla calls over. I ignore her.

"Iry, no." But Arla's right; my sister can't hear me. Iry stands over Celosia, who's unaware a thirteen-year-old from District 8 is right above her. "Iry."

My sister takes a deep breath, raises the rock- and brings it down hard on Celosia's head. Woven grabs my hand. I feel numb. What? My sister did what? I spin around and look straight at Station 12, which is unmanned and abandoned.

Its screens stay lit for a second more, showing the same scene that's on my own screen. Then it shuts down and the screens go dark; fading to black like a dying star. When I look back to my own screen, Celosia's picture vanishes from the tribute roster.

"I think your sister might surprise you."

I think Mags was right.