Moss Hawkins, 16, District 11 Tribute POV

As night begins to transform into morning, thirst weighs down on me. I haven't been sent any sponsor gifts yet. I know there's water in the trees but I have no way of getting to it without equipment.

I've decided that, since there's nobody left for me to protect, survival is my top priority. It would be good if I could just get some sponsors. Without them, I'll be forced to venture back to the Cornucopia and get a knife, risking being killed by a Career.

I try to consider the assets I have. I've been told I'm pretty handsome but I can't compete with Fawkes. I have muscles but I'm not as big as Eidolon and Mako. Houghton is taller than me and more handsome, not to mention a victor's son. I can throw axes but I don't have an axe and Rusalka is probably better than me.

Then there's my romance with Silver. I doubt that'll still attract sponsors given that we willingly split up in the bloodbath and I doubt Silver's keeping up the act. Even if I pretended to be in love with Silver, I'll have to compete with Rusalka mourning her boyfriend's death and Ageis and Régine, who are probably still together.

What are you better at than every other tribute here, Moss?

I have an answer. Survival skills. I'm the best survivalist in the arena, apart from Silver. But I don't have any equipment and he probably picked something up in the bloodbath. Silver with a simple knife is more impressive than me with nothing by a landslide.

Inspiration comes to me in the form of a monkey with orange-gold fur. I fight the urge to smile; monkeys see that as a sign of aggression. It starts bounding towards me and I back away, holding my empty hands up. It's a challenge not to make eye contact but I think I can manage.

I can have a close call with this monkey. I can survive and then the sponsors will know that I'm worth their money.

Until I hear a guttural, inhuman screech behind me. I don't even turn around. The last thing I ever feel is sharp claws raking down my back.

Asteraceae Croft, 16, District 10 Tribute POV

I'm considering taking a nap when Houghton points out the reddish-gold monkey on a nearby tree.

"Do you think it looks like me?" He asks.

"No, you're much cuter," I say. It's hard to tell in the moonlight but I think I made him blush.

Since my mentor is absolutely useless, I have to rely entirely on Houghton and his mentor for supplies from sponsors. That means I need to keep him wrapped around my finger. I've decided to use my charm. Judging by Houghton's interactions with his district partner in his first games, I'd say he has a thing for innocent, wholesome blondes.

I can be innocent and wholesome and I don't even need to put any effort into being blonde.

It's a shame that Houghton's so immature. He's tall enough to be eighteen but he's childish enough to be eight. Either way, it's hard to believe he's only two months younger than me. He turns sixteen in a week.

I watch as Houghton waves at the monkey, his smile bright. Suddenly, it leaps at him, screeching, teeth and claws bared. Houghton drops to a crouch, catlike, and draws his sickle. Then he springs up and starts hacking at the beast, faster than it can fight back. His muscles ripple in the moonlight.

I must say, I'm impressed.

Then a cannon fires. I look up, instinctively, and see a swarm of monkeys in the branches above me.

I scream as one of them launches itself at me. I brace myself for a very painful impact but nothing happens. Instead, I hear the sound of a blade sinking into a body and know that Houghton's saved me.

"Asteraceae!" He cries. "Run! I'll fight them off!"

I don't need telling twice.

As I speed away into the jungle, I wonder if I made a mistake leaving my ally. What if another monkey attacks me? This time, I won't have Houghton to defend me.

Soon, I realise that I'll be fine. I can still hear the sound of Houghton whooping like a madman and every monkey I see immediately loses interest in me and rushes towards the noise.

I burst though the tree line and onto the beach. I know the monkeys won't follow me.

Suddenly, I see two figures racing across the beach. Drachma and Mako. Two of the three remaining Careers. Fortunately, Rusalka seems to have left them.

I twist at my ring, wondering if I can poison them both. But, the moment I raise my fist, Mako lowers his sword. My fingers drop to the sand, served. I sink to my knees, vomiting at the sight of the stumps on my hand. They spray a thick stream of blood.

"Houghton!" I scream. "Help! Help!"

"Drachma, want this kill?" Mako asks, casually.

"Wait," Drachma says. "She's calling for Houghton. Keep her alive so he comes for her and we can both have a kill."

It occurs to me that I should probably stop screaming or I'll lure Houghton into a trap.

Then I realise that's exactly what I want. Two Careers versus one Houghton.

I don't usually gamble but my money would be on Houghton.

Houghton Field, 15, District 9 Tribute POV

I charge into the jungle, howling my lungs out. My sickle swings in a wild arc. Every time I feel claws catch on me, I slash out. Every time I slash out, I hear the dull thud of a severed limb hitting the ground.

A monkey lands in front of me. I dodge it and ram my sickle through its face as I pass.

I am a blank slate, a killing machine. I run on blood, death and chaos. My sickle sings as it slays monster after monster. My blood races.

Victor's blood.

I know that I am going to win these games.

I rush through the trees. Soon, the buzz starts to wear off as I realise there are no more monkeys left to fight.

That's when I hear the scream.

"Houghton! Please... Help me..."

Asteraceae!

I follow her cries as they grow weaker and weaker. As I run, a chorus of screams begin to rise around me. I ignore them. They're all strangers to me.

I burst out onto the beach. There are three figures there - Asteraceae and two other tributes. A dark-skinned boy and a girl with mousy hair. I recognise them both from training but I can't remember their names. I rush towards them...

And run straight into an invisible wall.

I attack the wall with my sickle but it does nothing. The other tributes rush forwards to face me but find that they can't get past the wall either. I can't hear them over all the screams but I can tell the exact moment that the girl gives up on killing me and returns to killing Asteraceae. She beats at my ally with spiked gauntlets until there's blood everywhere.

I'm reminded of a scene from the tape that Liza showed me on the train. A pretty, blonde girl - Liza almost forty years ago - was tied to a tree and carved up like a piece of meat. She'd screamed for me, begging me to save her. I'd come to her rescue - or, at least, the boy named Houghton on the screen had - and started fighting the torturer.

That was the story of how I'd died.

Apparently, I'd saved Liza. Out of the three of us, she'd bled out the slowest.

I'm told that's what I'm supposed to do. I used to save people.

But I can't save Asteraceae. I can only watch, helpless, as the girl punctures her skull. A cannon fires.

I feel like I've failed. I'm not sure what I had to gain from protecting Asteraceae, since only one of us could win, but I'm filled with so much shame as I retreat into the jungle to face the screams of so many strangers. I'm pretty sure one of the girls sounds familiar but I can't remember where I've heard her before.

Sometimes, I can't remember anything. Nothing is familiar but the weight of a sickle in my hand.

Navara Audi, 17, District 9 Tribute POV

Three cannons have fired since the anthem. Renault and I can't decide how many we've heard in total but thirst is making it hard to think. My head throbs with every heartbeat. I have to lie on the ground just to stop the world from spinning.

"Renault, how did you get water in your games?" I ask.

"I-I melted some s-snow," he answers.

"Great, that's really helpful."

When I see the snake, I think I'm hallucinating. It's long and neon-green, slithering along the forest floor. I try to move away but it sinks its fangs into me before I can react.

For the rest of my life, I burn. A fever stemming from two tiny puncture marks on my hand. Renault tells me that it's worse than the cold as vomit sears my throat and my lungs begin to fall still in my chest.

Tears of pain and sorrow fill my eyes. I know I'll never see Mercedes again and I still have no idea who she is.

A lot of deaths occurred this chapter. This is because the arena is going wild and all the outliers happen to be in the path of the hazards.

14th: Moss Hawkins, clawed by a monkey mutt

Moss just had to be a mutt death, especially since he was in the monkey segment. Moss got really unlucky. If he'd been able to stay with Silver, I would've liked writing their awkward friendship but, since he's on his own, I can't write any interactions between him and other characters. Also, Gabe ruined Moss' chances of survival by refusing to send him any sponsor gifts, since he's not part of the rebellion anymore. It made him reckless enough to spend more time with the monkey.

13th: Asteraceae Croft, skull broken by Drachma

Asteraceae had a purpose and that was to kill Peeta. Then her net ended up causing some unexpected chaos but, after that, she'd served her purpose. There are other villainous tributes who are more human and less pure evil. Plus I wanted to make Houghton more than Asteraceae's dim-witted minion. I think he's the only one who'll miss Asteraceae.

Speaking of Houghton, he seems to have found a loophole in the jabberjay section of the arena. Good for him. I've noticed that I've been throwing all the arena hazards at him over these last few chapters so at least he gets a break. Not that he needs one.

12th: Navara Audi, poisoned by a snake

Navara was an experiment gone wrong, in more ways than one. When I first came up with her, I'd run out of ideas and I wondered if it'd be cool to put another tribute inside Navara's head. So I chose Renault Flint, which was a bit of a mistake. Renault is one of the biggest introverts in Hunger Games history. He came fifth by staying out of the way. So Navara proceeded to spend this games staying out of the way. They never even got to talk to Mercedes. Maybe I should've been a bit bolder with Navara and put Titus in her head or maybe Navara was always destined to fade into the background. Someone had to be the quiet tribute.