"Games. You like Games" - Games by Lenon Stella

A Song for Snakes and Rats

Day 1 of the Games (Morning of the Bloodbath)

Female Tribute from District One, Avanelle Aran

Smile. Strangely that is all I can think as the sun beats down on me, as the seconds on the clock tick away. Smile. Everyone is watching. Smile. Let them think it is a show. Smile, smile, smile. The sickness will go away if you smile.

But I feel sick. To the point that it rattles me. . .

Fifty seconds. I look over to my left, seeing the boy from District 8. He winks at me. Actually winks. And for some reason, that is enough. It's enough for me to realize that this is a game. This is a show. And though I'm scared. Terrified, even. I can't let these bottom feeders get the best of me. These anti-careers who think they're going to be the crowd favorites.

I didn't do everything I've done not to get the crown.

I didn't sacrifice my integrity.

I didn't come here not to kill.

I didn't waste all that time training.

I didn't promise my sister that there was more. Only for there to be more missing. Only to give her grief alone with the hopelessness and loneliness and poverty.

No, that boy. Jeans, from District 8. He has no idea what that wink did for me.

I look back over to the clock. Twenty-five. I exhale, in out, in out. I look around, taking in the tall, thick trees that tower over the giant bronze horn covered with vines. I look around the opening, searching for my axe. And there's plenty of gear and tent equipment and weapons pouring out from it, but there's also something else, something strange about the way the vines are slithering out from the horn.

I glance back over to the clock, playing it safe. Fifteen seconds. That's all. Then it's days before my life changes. Before my sister can say yes to more, instead of no to everything.

"You're dead," says the boy from District 9 to my right. I know he expects me to turn to him, to think that because he's given me a threat that I'm scared. But I'm not. I stay focused on the towering trees in the background. I stay focused on all the greenery and as the clock dwindles down, it seems more and more color appears. Pinks. Purples. Yellows. Flowers opening up as the sun hits them. For a moment, I find it strange that there's so much beauty about to witness death. But then I tell myself this is a show, and there needs to be a setting the audience can awe at.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

I loosen my legs, arching forward.

Six. Five. Four.

I know I can out run Nine, but Eight might be more of a challenge.

Three. Two. One. I exhale right as the gong sounds. And then I am on the dirt, kicking it up, feeling the hair hitting my back. The bronze isn't far away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a few ahead of me, but no one who I couldn't take down. This is my show. This is my big opening act. Just like the reaping, I'll need to do something show-stopping.

In seconds, I am at the entrance of the horn. In seconds, I'm digging through the weapons, pleading, praying to find it. My axe. My hand reaches right around the handle before I'm grabbed, yanked clean in the air, and tossed to the ground. A shoot of pain goes up my tailbone upon impact, and I think I hear my teeth crunch, but I shake it away. I look forward, forcing the smile.

District Nine is there. Sesame Seed.

"Looking for this," he says. He holds up the axe. "Shame."

And I'm not looking at him anymore, but the person behind him. Nile. The sword. And then Sesame Seed's head is in on the ground. Clean cut. Blood splattering me. And I'm still trying to smile, still trying to think through all the ways that I'm still in control, still calling the shots.

But I'm swallowing in the blood now, tasting it, struggling to keep it together. Sesame's blood stinks. It feels drowning, covering me. But I smile, telling myself this is what I signed up for. I'm supposed to be bloodthirsty. I'm supposed to kill with ease. I'm not supposed to squirm at the bitter taste.

And so I laugh. I spring to my feet, scooping up his head and slinging it out at the closest body. It's the girl from District Three who it hits. She instantly screams, falling backwards.

"Don't be such a prude!" I yell. But I can't stop thinking about the blood, the pieces of Sesame's hairs sticking in-between my fingers.

"You okay?" Nile goes to ask, but I'm shoving past him, scooping up the axe.

The girl from District 3 screams. But that's about all she can do. She's so caught off guard by the head. She digs her heels into the earth, desperately panicking to get back to her feet, but I'm on her. I'm on her too quick. My body freezes, wanting to slow down the scene, wanting to hesitate, but I force it forward.

And then it becomes skill. It becomes instinct. The axe is in her stomach. She screams. I think I do too. And unlike the laugh, unlike the picking up the boy's head and tossing it, the scream is the only thing that is real. It is the only part of me that doesn't belong in this facade.

But I don't let myself stay there—in the real part of me. I flip back on the facade, knowing that games keep you alive here, and I plan on surviving past this little three act play.

So I turn around, pulling out my axe, searching for my next kill. And it isn't surprising that her district partner—the boy who seemed to be fascinated with the bugs more than he did anything else during training—is standing there.

I move in on him next, and as I'm running, I hear it. The sound of a spear I've heard a million times before. At the last second, I slam myself to the dirt, letting it go over me. Then I am back on my feet, watching the boy from District 8 head my way. He's the one who threw the spear.

So he'll be the next one I kill.

Male Tribute from District Eight, Denim Lane

When the spear leaves my hand, I'm certain that it will impale into the body of Avanelle. But then she's on the ground, slamming herself to the dirt, and before I can blink, before I can think, she's sprinting towards me. My element of surprise is gone. Vanished. Desperately, I fumble with the spearhead, panicking. I don't have another spear. Just this short blade that isn't going to do much when her axe gains the distance.

I step back, knowing my only option of winning is by staying out of reach. But then she could throw the axe and I'm hearing my heart pound as she moves in quicker, charging me. It hits me that I've never fought with weapons before. No shards of glass. No knives. We fought clean mostly in the streets. And my confidence hinges, tittering over the edge, and I'm thinking about dying, about everyone watching me bleed out on the screens. All because I was cocky. All because of my mouth.

And then Avanelle is on me. But also so is Zenna. She throws a knife, catching Avanelle off guard. The blade slices across her thigh and she screams. It gives me the distance, the escape room, to get even further back.

I have enough sense to watch around me now. To notice that others are fighting in close proximity. To my right, I see the boy from District One trying to gut the girl from Eleven. I have this urge to help her. But then I'm focusing back in. Avanelle isn't dead. And I can't leave Zenna to just deal with her.

I turn back on my heels, focusing in on Avanelle, who is smiling. Zenna stands close to her. A little too close, if you ask me.

"Someone seems shy," Avanelle says. She winks at me. And I fluster, all the playing, the thinking this was a game leaves me. I'm scared. Terrified of this girl.

Zenna doesn't speak back, but sends another knife in the direction of Avanelle, who this time gets the strategy and dodges it easily. It hits me that she's better than the both of us.

"We'll need to double team her," says Zenna. She circles, pulling another knife.

"Someone's brave," Avanelle says back. And then she's rushing us. Zenna throws another knife, and I'm charging in with my spearhead, knowing I have to be brave, have to help Zenna take down the Careers. It was the plan. Go with the plan.

I swing out with the spearhead, hoping to catch Avanelle off hand, but I'm out of reach and she's easily leaping back. Scrambling, I slam myself to the ground, just barely dodging the axe blade that slashes through the air where my guts were minutes ago. My fingers dig into the earth, pulling myself back up. Avanelle swings for me again and I leap out of the way, barely. Zenna slashes at her from the otherside, thinking she'll catch her blind spot, but Avanelle turns around, swinging, almost taking off her head. Determined, I swing out again and this time it catches Avanelle on the arm.

Heat rushes through me too, though and I see the blood. I see it trailing down my own bicep. I stumble backwards, wondering if I'm about to watch my arm fall off. I look for bone. And there it is. The blade cutting past the muscles, past the skin. My legs want to give out. I'm going into shock, I think.

Zenna's words bring me back to reality. "Denim, duck!" I throw myself to the ground, the axe blade hurtling through the air. I go to get back to my feet, but pain slams into my face and I'm back on my back.

I feel the wind leave me and I'm struggling to breathe. Back on my feet, I turn around, watching Avanelle running towards the jungle, attempting to retrieve her axe.

"She's coming back," Zenna says. She's right at my side. I turn to her, barely blinking before she tosses me a knife. Luckily, I catch it. Then I'm squeezing the hilt when Zenna takes off, charging after Avanelle. I don't want to follow her, but I know I have to. Because if Avanelle lives. We die. Simple. And I'd rather die fighting than have Neem see me as some form of coward.

And wasn't that the plan. Take out the Careers early so that the rest of us have a fighting chance to get home.

I'm moving through the underbrush around me, thick green plants with blooming bright fluorescent flowers. Now, that I'm moving away from the chaos of the cornucopia, I think I hear buzzing. Or is it rattling.

Zenna stops suddenly a few feet from me. Avanelle has made it to her axe but she doesn't turn back and charge. No, she keeps running. And I have no idea why until I see it. Slithering up through the greenery.

Large yellow body paired with white pale eyes and a pink forked tongue.

"Snake!" Zenna says. She continues stepping back. I do the same, following her.

"We need to move," I say. And my voice doesn't sound like me. I feel like I'm speaking behind a cloth or underneath a mask. Everything seems muted. Or maybe its because all I can hear is my heart pounding.

"Run!" Zenna says.

"Where?" I ask. The Cornucopia is behind us. We could go back there. But then the monstrous snake is moving towards the path, attempting to cut us off from the rest of the group.

"We'll come back," Zenna says. "Just move."

"Should we warn them?" I ask. But Zenna is already running, sprinting towards the jungle and away from the reach of the snake. I look back at the Cornucopia, seeing Proteus and Rahni shuffling through a nearby crate, oblivious to the threat.

And yet I don't yell out any warning.

I don't know why I just turn and run, following Zenna's lead. On the streets, the gangs weren't always kind, but we looked out for each other's when it came to mutual threats.

That snake would have been one—a mutual threat.

But then I remind myself that this isn't the streets. This is the Hunger Games. And unlike back home, where so many of us lived, only one of us can survive in this place. It has to be me.

Male Tribute from District Two, Nile Shadid

The pair from District 7 would have joined the boy from District 9 had not the girl from District 10, Alys screamed.

She catches me off guard, giving away my element of surprise. The boy from District 7 jumps back and away from the crate. The girl scrambles away too, but I keep her in my peripheral. I tell myself that I can take the three of them. That they are like the kids back home. The unskilled, helpless twelve year olds.

The illusion evaporates quickly when the boy from District 7 swings the sword, nearly gutting me. I swing out with my fist, catching him in the chin, before hoping to gut him with my own sword. Mid swing, I feel a rush of pain, of excitement, of warmth running down my back, and I see the girl from District 10 stumbling back, hand covered with blood.

Stumbling forward, I know there is a knife lodged in my back. The pain rushes, stimulating something in me. I feel alive. I feel calmer. And without really thinking about it, I'm cutting her down and turning back to the boy.

He screams. Or maybe it's his district partner who screams because she's sprayed by the dead girl's blood. Either way, I keep focused on the pain. I keep telling myself that this is it. This is what I've been waiting for. To feel something more than the deadening thud that seems to be my existence.

I step forward towards the girl, who I hope will be as easy to kill as her ally, but she's quicker than Ten and instead of taking the blade, she's leaping out of reach from it.

Quickly, I turn back to the boy, who is charging me. I have enough time to see him. Not enough time to stop him, though. We collide. My body hits the dirt. The blade of the knife seems to shove in deeper, ripping inside of me. More warmth floods my back, devouring into spine and lats and slithering down my shoulders. I grimace, focusing on the pain, hoping that it will motivate me to perform better, faster, killing more easily.

Four kills. That's what I'm going to have by the end of this. All because that blade that girl left in me. All because I'm awake because I have this reminder of how close death lurks over my shoulder.

The fist of the boy connects with my nose, snapping it, awakening me more. Warmth floods my face. I still think I'm smiling, but I don't know. I just reach for the boy's hair and when I find it, I pull him down, before slamming my forehead with his face. Teeth slice into my forehead, but I don't care.

That pain is nothing compared to the one growing in my back.

I reach for District Seven's hair a second time, hoping to connect my forehead into his face again. But when I reach up—slightly blinded by the blood and sun and maybe the pain—I'm cut off, feeling his fist slamming into my cheek. My teeth rattle. I swear I swallow something—perhaps one of the front ones. And I have to grit down, digging deeper inside, before sending a knee forward. I hope it slams into his back, but he catches me again with another fits and my vision blackens this time.

The pain feels overwhelming. It scares me this time. Before now, it's never been this real. Before now, its never been this focused. Suddenly, I have this fear that the pain is controlling me, instead of me controlling it. That sends a shiver down my legs, motivating me free. The girl will be back any minute, too, surely regaining her courage.

I go to slam my knees forward again and this time it catches the boy in the back, sending him forward. But somehow, the boy stops, not falling off of me. His legs tighten, gripping him into place, and I feel his hand in my hair, slamming my head to the hard earth. My vision goes dark than light. I feel like I'm watching the sun blink out.

Panicking, I swallow down the fear and reach out for my sword. It's somewhere. In the background, I hear someone else screaming, fighting, tumbling around. I think about yelling out for help, but that would make me weak. And I'm not weak. Not in the slightest. So instead, I reach again for the sword.

The boy says, "You're going to pay for what you did to Alys." His voice seems to shake. Like my body.

I want to tell him that it wasn't personal. But everything in the Hunger Games is personal because everything we do affects someone else intentionally.

Killing. Fighting. Stealing. Lying.

The boy goes to slam my head down again and this time I hear the girl, saying to just end it.

And I take that as my move to get back on my feet. I slam my fist into his side, hoping I'm catching him in the kidney, not the ribs. But everything seems dark and shadowy. My vision appears blurred and hazy. As if I'm trapped in a cool morning before dawn.

I grip at the earth, hoping to gain some footage, some leeway so that I can get this boy off of me. The cool earth slides down my fingers, complete opposite to the warmth that's spreading down my hips. I wonder if I've pissed myself in the blacking out. Probably.

"Just end it," the girl says. "Please, Proteus. Now!"

I laugh. Maybe its the fear talking. "Proteus, do it!"

I'm hoping it'll catch him off guard, allowing me to strike.

"For Alys," he says.

"Snake!" Someone screams.

For a moment, I look for it, but there is no reptile. There is only overwhelming, bright pain.

Female Tribute from District Twelve, McAfee Sylvane

The snake moves, scrambling the tributes, but I keep fumbling through crates. The girl from District 9 has enough sense not to move, either. She picks up an assembly of knives, ranging from small to large. There is a moment where I panic, thinking she might attempt to use one of them, but she only shoves it into her jacket.

I make note of that. Before I'm back shuffling, pulling up supplies where I can and shoving them into my own backpack. Jeriah stands behind me, keeping watch, barely holding onto the knife because his hand is shaking so badly.

"Come on," Jeriah says. "Hurry."

"I'm hurrying," I snip back. I grab a tent, shoving it into my bag. It's the last thing I wanted. With a rainforest comes rain, I'm certain. A tent is a necessity.

"Let's go," I say, turning around. "To the left," I continue. The snake moved to the right, I think. Jeriah moves out, but it's not before the boy from District 1 and the girl from Five are there. The boy looks scared, terrified. Weird, since he's a Career.

"Get him," the girl says. It's her own district partner that she's telling the boy to get. And it's a mistake, because I'm lunging towards her, protecting Jeriah. I clash with the boy. Our bodies slam together. Hard. Dizzy, I stumble off balanced. As I sway backwards, I swing out with my hatchet, remembering our proximity.

But I don't and the boy must understand that I mean to kill him, because he's scooting backwards on his butt. He resembles a dog dragging his tail though the yard. Oddly, I want to laugh but I don't. Then we're back on our feet, and the boy is charging towards me. For a second, I go to check for Jeriah, but he's handling himself against his own district partner. She swings at him, but he surprisingly dodges the blow. The second he isn't so lucky. He takes the blow, screaming. Instinctively, I rush over to help him against District Five. Who will definitely pay.

"Behind you!" Jeriah yells as he sees me darting over. I turn quickly on my toes, catching the boy from District 1. I swing out, but he's a Career. He's trained. He leans back, dodging the blade of my hatchet. But then I kick out, aiming for his knees and somehow connecting with the left one. He screams, falling to the ground. I go to swing my hatchet at him, an attempt to end it all, but he kicks out, connecting with my wrist. I hear a snap and the scream that leaves my lips hurts my teeth. The hatchet falls, but I'm picking it back up.

The boy from District 1 crawls away, half dragging himself, half limping to get to his feet. He grabs a knife. Readies to throw it, but I'm moving. We have to move, I think.

I look over to Jeriah, who is now bleeding, a gash across his stomach. His district partner goes to take another swing at him and he leaps out of the way. I rush towards him, ignoring the pain and getting out of the aim of District 1. I never saw him throw in training, but I won't bet my life on the fact of him missing. We just need to get out of the bloodbath. We need to get away from the others as quickly as possible.

And for that to happen, for me and Jeriah to get away, the girl from Five needs to die. Now, preferably.

I rush her. She doesn't have time to think. I know it. I swing out with the hatchet, hoping to catch her in the stomach, but only slashing her shoulder. She screams out, before lashing back out. Her blade doesn't come close, her aim messy because of the pain.

"Jeriah!" I yell, noticing him scooting back. "Help me!"

Five swings out again, frustrated. District One could be moving in closer, crawling in like the very serpent he is. Eager to strike.

Jeriah just stands there, so I yell again. "Help me kill her!" I swing out with the hatchet, but she dodges it, leaping back but nearly crashing to the ground. Jeriah seems to snap out of it now. He's moving in on her, finally taking the offense. He swings out with the knife, but it's a feeble attempt. His aim is poor. But still it is the needed help that gives us the upperhand. Distracted by Jeriah, I swing out, catching Five across the back. She screams this time, panicking.

"Chime!" she yells. I turn around, looking for District 1. But he's nowhere to be found. Probably crawled away, knowing that if he doesn't play his cards right he'll end up in the sky tonight, too.

I turn back to Five, who has fallen to the ground. She's panicking more so now, realizing the magnitude of her wounds.

"Please," she says. "I don't want to die."

"No one does," I say before catching myself. Then I look over to Jeriah. "Go!" I yell. "Run! For the trees!" He turns and Five takes this as her opportunity to strike. But I'm on to it. I'm quicker than she is, despite her guile. I'm swinging out, catching her right in the throat mid leap towards me. She goes to the ground, blade buried deep. A part of me hopes Jeriah didn't see me drive a blade into his district partner's throat.

But as I turn, pulling out the hatchet, he is standing there. Eyes wide, tears flooding down his face.

Female Tribute from District Six, Tressa Whitelock

"We need to move! Now!" I'm screaming, half practically dragging Errol from the crates. He's slow. Dazed by the sunlight or the rush of adrenaline.

"We need this," Errol says. He's tugging at a tent. He yanks again, attempting to free it, but I'm pulling him away. We need to move and now.

"Leave it!" I shout. I glance around, scanning for the Careers. The girls from Two and Four seem to have their hands full with the Anti-Career Alliance. Specifically, the pair from District Seven and the boy from Four. I see the body of the boy from Two laying there, lifeless. He's not the only one, but its the most shocking. That must be why the Careers are on them. They must have killed him.

"Got it!" He says. And I'm turning around, looking for what someone yelled as a snake, all while watching for the pair from District One. They're unaccounted for at this point.

We move out fo the Cornucopia and into the taller grass. My lungs burn from the heat or the humidity, I don't really know. All I can think of is run, don't look back, don't allow your mind to go there, to see if someone is following.

By the time we hit the tree line—really, its a thick brush of vegetation— I finally do the very thing my mind has been warning me to do. I look back.

"We're not being followed," he says. Errol breathes heavily, exhaling and inhaling loudly. The run must have took more out of him than either of us imagined. Briefly, I think back to the Parade. I was the pilot and he the plane. Funny, I'm leading us now. But then I think about how a pilot can only take a plane as far as it lets it. And judging from the looks of it, I worry if Errol can handle this. Surviving District 6 is one thing. Surviving the Games is another.

"We need to keep moving," I say. I sit down the pack that I grabbed, shuffling through it to see if there's water. First hydration. Second more walking or running, whichever we can handle. "We need to keep distance between us and the Careers."

"They seemed busy," says Errol.

"District One was unaccounted for," I say. I think about the boy who was already dead. "The boy from Two."

"Dead," he says. "I saw."

"Maybe they'll really do it," I say, hopeful. "Take down some of the Careers so the rest of us stand a chance."

"Doubt it," he says. He shuffles through his own bag, pulling out a canteen. He takes a sip, downing it. "They'll more than likely die trying." He wipes his mouth. "We can't compete with trained tributes."

"We'll have to," I say. He hands me the canteen and I feel guilty for not pulling my own out. Still, I take a sip from his, making a note not to reveal my own water supply just yet. The water feels cool against my dry throat. It makes my next words easier to say. "If we want to win."

"I know," he says.

I wait for the jokes or the laughter to follow, but there is nothing, only the chiming of birds overhead. I look up, noticing clouds of color. Bright yellows, reds, blues, and greens are ascending all around us.

"Errol," I say, watching as the birds swarm more so in numbers.

"Run," he says.

And I am running, leaving him, brushing past large circular leaves and searching for any place of coverage. Behind me I hear the birds singing, screeching, swarming on us. Errol yells out in pain, but I don't look back. I know the bird muttations are coming.

And then they are on me too, digging, clawing at my scalp. Hair pulls with their grip and I'm swinging out with my knife, hoping to kill them, but they're too fast, too small to kill.

Errol screams out again and my heart pounds, heavier, louder. Is there where we die? Only surviving the bloodbath to be killed by birds. No, I tell myself. We don't die here. I swing out my limbs again, slapping the birds away. A blue bird dives in for my eyes and I have the sense to look down. It's claws find my scalp instead, digging in and clawing away at my hair. I swing out the blade, circling and finding Errol to be almost as covered with birds as I am. Behind him, I see it.

A small hollow space beneath a large tree.

"There!" I say. "The burrow!" A bird hits me in the face, targeting my tongue. Blinded, I slap away at the mutt before sprinting towards the hole. I make it there in seconds.

By the time I'm underneath the roots, I feel the warmth of blood pouring down my run, slithering right past my cheeks. I look behind me, hoping that the birds haven't followed. They haven't.

"Over here!" I yell.

I watch as Errol covers the distance, the birds trailing him, only to swoop up as his slides beneath the roots. He's covered with blood, too. I even notice the patches of hair that seem to be missing, now replaced with open wounds. Exhaling, I grip my knife tighter. They could come in, could figure out how to fly beneath the roots, couldn't they? But the birds don't come. They only settle on the branches above us. Looking through the roots, I notice they're covered with a fuzzy gray moss. I wonder if that's what scaring the birds off. I wonder if it's something to be more scared of than the birds.

"You okay?" Errol asks.

"I think so," I say. But honestly, I know I'm not okay. I'll never be okay. Even if I survive this, I'll never be the same. Not after witnessing children die. Not after experiencing birds tear out pieces of my scalp.

And all because of what, I wanted to volunteer for someone who I loved, who I genuinely wanted to prevent from a fate I'll very likely have now. . .

I sit down, crossing my legs, exhaling another breath. I volunteered for this, I think. I literally gave them permission to kill me.

Male Tribute from District Four, Yorik Questor

Nascha sprints as we charge in on her. With Nile dead, Rowena and her seem to be off their game. It seems it caught them off guard. Good. They didn't expect us to do this sort of damage to the group this early on. But Rahni and Proteus killed him, which gives me hope, which tells me that maybe we can pull this off. Maybe we can kill enough off them to actually stand a chance in going home.

A wheezing comes to the left of me and duck, thankful because I nearly dodge the axe of Avanelle. She's back, which means we might have our hands full. I watch as she rushes my way. My instincts tell me to throw the spear, but I know it has the range and that I'm more likely to do more damage up close. Plus, it keeps her at a distance.

"Circle up," I tell Rahni and Proteus. "We need to form a circle." They do, coming to my aid. Rahni holds an axe and Proteus a sword.

I look for Rowena. Proteus said he gut her, but I don't see her dead, don't see where the blood is spilt. Adrenaline courses through me as I scan the fallen bodies, supplies, and wet blood.

"We have to be smart," I say. And at this time, out of the corner of my eye, I see District 8 come sprinting back through the grass. Where did they go? Were they waiting for the initial casualties to be killed?

"Snake!" Denim says. "Snake in the grass!"

My eyes barely stay on him, though, remembering Avanelle. She's stopped running towards us. She's weaponless now and seems hesitant. All impulsiveness and adrenaline of the moment must have faded. I expect her to act like a Career. I expect her to rush in, thinking she can take all three of us. But she doesn't . She just watches us, eyes squinting.

"This isn't going to end good for you, fish boy," she says. By this time Denim and Zenna have made it to the group.

"Circle around us," I say. "I don't know where Nascha is."

"Two is hurt," Proteus says. "I cut her. Good, I think."

"I don't see them," Zenna says. "Where's Tassia? Blair? Alys?"

"Alys is dead," Rahni says.

"Sesame too," Denim adds. Two of us down. Only Five of us left standing, because at this point we can't count Tassia and Blair to remain in the group. But then I see him District Ten emerging from the grass. He moves hesitantly. It catches Avanelle's eyes, too, because she's rushing towards him.

"Blair!" I scream. "Run!" I expect someone to move. None of us leave our positions to save him. No one steps up to risk their life to be the hero. We only watch as Blair barely manages to clear the distance, escaping Avanelle's reach. She circles back, just out of throwing range. No one risks throwing something at her. We can't afford to give her a weapon or any other supply to live off of.

"You okay?" I ask. Blair only nods. He's covered in blood. Whose blood I don't know.

Rowena and Nascha emerge from the vegetation finally. Rowena doesn't look wounded although she doesn't seem to be standing completely straight. Maybe Proteus did cut her. Avanelle falls back in line with them, to which Rowena hands her over a knife.

"We going to do this," Avanelle says. She glances over to Rowena and then to Nascha.

"It's your move, Nascha," I say. Rahni and Proteus step forward, instinctively preparing for the fight we all know is about to happen. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Denim hand Blair a knife, before positioning him behind him. So maybe there is one of us who still thinks of the others. Who is still willing to play hero.

"Come on," Avanelle says. "We can take them. It's just fish boy and his herd of outers."

Rowena looks nervous at Nascha. We wait, ready. But instead of leading the charge, Nascha only scoops up a bag and darts into the overgrown vegetation. Rowena follows without a second thought. Avanelle, however, screams and we stand, waiting, ready for her impulsiveness to create a fight that's bound to happen. But surprisingly, she doesn't rush in. She turns and follows the others into the rainforest.

It seems like an eternity before any of us move. This doesn't seem to be happening. The Careers not putting up a fight. I wait for them to come rushing back out, flinging knives and throwing spears, but they don't. And eventually, the echoing of canons, announcing the bloodbath is over is what loosens my grip on the spear.

Five canons sound. Three for Nile, Sesame, and Alys. The other two I do not know just yet.

"Should we look for more supplies," Zenna asks.

"I think so," Rahni answers. She looks over at me, waiting for direction. I just nod. Unsure what to do next. I didn't expect us to be the Careers. I didn't expect the hunted to actually become the hunters so quickly.

I walk around the boxes, shuffling through the crates, searching for anything that could be of use.

Proteus and Denim fan out, with Blair following Denim like he did Alys. Silently, I watch as Proteus picks up Alys and moves her away from the Cornucopia.

"The girl from District Five is over here," Zenna says.

"The girl from Three, too," Rahni adds. That marks five. Nile, the girls from Three and Five, Sesame, and Alys.

I look around, searching for anything that might seem out of place. I don't want to admit it, but I know Chime isn't far. He has to be close.

And I am right. I'm just too late in my thinking. Behind me, I hear the scream. I turn, watching Chime move through grass. Panicking, I glance around, searching for my allies. There is Zenna. Rahni. Proteus.

"Where's Blair!" Rahni screams.

There's no answer, because we know. He's dead.

The canon sounds, announcing the inevitable. Another one of us gone. All because of my big plan. All because of my idea that we could take down the Careers. But what if we can't, I think suddenly. And so how many more of us will die trying to do this impossible mission. I swallow, attempting to push it away. But the thoughts are there. It's all I can think about as I watch Denim, Proteus, and Zenna rush after Chime.

A/N: This chapter is long overdue. Honestly, I have a terrible tendency of getting bored with a writing project and placing it on the back burner. For that, I'm sorry.

So I'm not sure how realistic this bloodbath seemed. I really hoped it seemed real. In my mind, with the Careers being slightly outnumbered 5 to 3 there would be some hesitancy for them to attack. Especially since it's the bloodbath and Day 1 and they'd just lost Nile and (possibly) Chime. Anyway, for those of you who are Career fans, I'm sorry. You might not like where this story is going, because we honestly have a few snakes that might become rats and a few rats that might become snakes. Who knows?

Questions:

Thoughts of the overall chapter? (Favorite POV)

Thoughts of the arena? (Rainforest it is)

Thoughts of the bloodbath kills?

Deaths are based on realism, movement of the plot, and if I struggled to write your tribute (sorry, but there were a few I just felt like I couldn't capture.)

24th. Male Tribute from District Nine, Sesame Schild. Sunny, I thought the name was funny. Truly, I did. With Sesame, I struggled to really develop him past the anger and hatred of the Capitol. I hope I did him enough justice in the Capitol. He was a fun one to write. Thanks for submitting such a fiery character to my story.

23rd. Female Tribute District Three. Allegra Mulinari. Dyloccupy, again, this was another character that I genuinely struggled to write in the way I wanted. For me, without really meaning to, she sort of blended into the background. Regarding plot, I didn't really know where she would fit past the bloodbath. Thank you for submitting such a complex character. Thank you for submitting a lovely character to my story.

22nd. Female Tribute from District Ten, Alys Tarwyck. Remus, she was a struggle to make a bloodbath. From the start, I flipped bak and forth with the angle I wanted to take Alys. But at the end of it, she never really fit in with the plans I had for this story moving forward, so she had to die here. Thank you for submitting such a complex character to my story.

21st. Male Tribute from District Two, Nile Shadid. Bradilain, Nile was the last person I added to the bloodbath. Regarding his addiction to pain, I really wanted to explore that more but I feared it becoming his entire personality. Personally, I thought it realistic that it took two people to take him down. Thank you for submitting such a dynamic career to my story.

20th. Female Tribute from District Five, Fransiska Lunde. Padraig, I never really pictured Fransiska to be a villian. Mean, of course. But she was a survivor and had the means and guile to do what was necessary. All in all, I thought it fitting another survivor took her down. Thank you for submitting "another villain" to my story.

19th. Male Tribute from District Ten, Blair Cohen. CreativeFanatic, sadly, it seems I always kill littles in the bloodbath, but honestly I find their deaths to be the most realistic. Ironically, it was Blair's strategy of being a shadow that got him killed by Chime. Thank you for submitting the little to my story.