"I am lost." - in this shirt by the irresponsibles

A Song for Snakes and Rats

Day 2 of the Games (Night)

Female Tribute from District Eight, Zenna Vicary

"Should we try hunting?" Denim suggests. I glance over at him, uneasy by the suggestion. We aren't Careers. We aren't going to hunt down the other tributes like some bloodthirsty monsters.

"I don't know," says Yorik. He looks over at Rahni, waiting for her to weigh in on the decision. "I feel like we need to do something. The audience will be getting restless."

"Maybe we should try it," says Rahni. She glances over at me. "Zenna?"

"We aren't Careers," I say.

"True," says Denim. "But we have to do something." He gestures his arms out wide. "We can't just sit here. Waiting."

"He has a point," says Proteus.

"So what do we do?" Rahni asks. "If we're going to go hunting, I mean."

"Maybe we split into twos," Denim suggests. "Leaving one of us to guard the supplies." Instantly, I feel a sense of nervousness. I don't want to be alone in the arena. Not yet, not when there's four trained tributes left alive alongside all the other dangers in this arena.

"I can stay back," Proteus volunteers. "I'm the biggest. It makes sense."

"What if three of us went out hunting?" Rahni suggests. "And two stayed back."

"I'm okay with that," Yorik says.

"Zenna?" Rahni asks.

"That's fine," I say.

"Okay," Rahni adds. "So you don't mind hanging back with Proteus?" I see what she's doing there, making sure that the district partners aren't off together. It's strategic. It's smart. I think about my pre-Games conversation with Tassia and how we both came to a conclusion the Rahni was to be watched. She's playing this game well.

But so is Tassia admittingly.

"Sure," I say.

She moves into the Cornucopia, before coming back out. "Let pack bags." We all just stand there. Her eyes shift. "Just in case we get separated." She walks back into the horn followed by Yorik and Denim.

I follow after them, wanting to watch, slightly paranoid that she's planning something with Yorik. The two of them are close. But they wouldn't try anything yet, would they? I feel like I'm drifting back into my survivalist mentality.

Yorik and Rahni finish packing before Denim, and so I have time to catch him. The words slip out before I can stop them, "Stay alert. This alliance can only go so far."

"Already spinning your web?" he jokes.

"You'll thank me later," I say. He nods and we walk back out from beneath the shelter of the horn. Proteus and Rahni are talking about something while Yorik fiddles with his spear. He seems lost. Perhaps the Games are more realer than he thought. I know they are with me. Strange, how you grow up your whole life watching something, slightly detached from it. But in a way, the Games were never really a threat, I suppose. I was too busy surviving my own days to think about the Hunger Games. Stranger, that this seems more real now than any hardship on the streets.

"We'll leave after the seal," Yorik says.

Tonight it is short with only the face of the girl from District 12 illuminating the sky. Sixteen of us still left at the closing of day two. I make note how no-one mentions Tassia. Her being alive still. All alone. Maybe she was the one to watch. Not Rahni. Not Yorik.

"Let's head this way," Rahni says. She takes the lead, letting Yorik and Denim follow.

"Bye," I say, waving. My heart pounds. My hands sweat. Why am I so nervous? Why am I so afraid? I've been alone. Many times. This is nothing new.

Denim turns and waves, smiling. I watch as they bush. I watch as the only thread that connects me back to District 8 gets further and further away.

Male Tribute from District One, Chime Chaminade

Somehow, I've made it back to the Cornucopia. I suppose it was real luck, following a monkey that was carrying bananas. At first, I thought he might lead me to a food source, but it worked out even better. He'd gotten the food from the Cornucopia. I know this because where I'm crouching, just a few feet in front of me, sits a small crate of ripe yellow bananas.

I've sat here, waiting, watching, as Fishboy and his band of idiots go out into the trees. There's only two of them worry about, the girl from District 8 and the boy, Proteus. I'm not too concerned about the girl. The boy I'm a little apprehensive to face off with, especially since I don't have anything but a spearhead to use as a weapon.

And I'm not too arrogant to think that I can handle both of them without getting myself in trouble. I can't afford an injury, I tell myself. Especially if I want to have a chance of rejoining the girls, although something tells me that there won't be an opening invitation. As of right now, I'm on my own. Avanelle probably wishing I'm dead and the other two probably thankful I got separated from the group.

I know I'm not like Nile, but something inside of me tells me they'd probably go looking for him. But no one comes for me.

Why would they? You're weak, says an inner voice. I tell the fear to shut up. It doesn't listen.

It's time to make plan, I tell myself. But who knows how this will go down. I've never really been one to practice stealth. Back home I wish I would have focused more on defense rather than offense. I wish I had focused on some of the other skills besides just combat. Like Camouflage would be nice right about now.

Still, I have to try. So I crawl in a few feet, braver. Especially now that Proteus seems to be walking around to the other side, leaving just District 8 to guard the opening of the horn. I could take her, I tell myself. I'll just throw the spearhead and after that I'll find another weapon. There's plenty laying around I bet.

So is that the plan? I tell myself. To rush in now or to wait. I tell myself that I need to just be brave. I just need to be bold. But something keeps my legs locked in, something keeps me grounded, and I don't exactly know what.

I look up from the brush, from the massive high weeds, watching to see where Seven has ventured off to. When I find him, he seems to be positioning branches all around the Cornucopia. What is he doing, I wonder?

Then I get it after he's placed about the fourth branch into the ground, surrounding the Cornucopia. District 8 comes behind him. She wraps the branches with what looks like cloth. It seems like they're trying to make some sort of torches. But I don't know how they're going to get them to burn. They'll need something that'll light.

The girl fiddles with the cloth before striking a match. I watch as the flame start small, like a yellow bubble, before blooming to an orange globe. Great, I think. There goes the element of surprise. There goes using night as cover.

Attempting to control the anger building, I breathe. The girl goes on to the next torch, lighting it. This time, however, I notice something odd. All the vines covering the Cornucopia behind her seem to shift, seem to move, positioning themselves away from the flames. Bizarre, I think. But then something even weirder is happening. The vines are coming off of the bronze metal.

My heart pounds as a slide backwards a little. What isn't alive in this place, I wonder? What isn't created to kill us? The vine moves up and higher, almost like a snake getting ready to strike. Proteus must be on the other side, putting torches down. The girl seems unaware. She goes to light another torch and the flame or the heat must be what's triggering the vines.

When she grabs the torch, moving it up, that is all it takes. The vine strikes, slapping her down. I watch as she hits the earth. It must knock her unconscious because there isn't a scream.

But then the vines swing down again, more of them slamming her. There is a scream that time. I hear Proteus yell.

"Zenna!"

He rounds the corner. Seeing the vines, he screams. And when they turn from the girl and to him, he's running backwards, not bothering to fight.

The girl briefly stumbles to her feet. But it's too late for her. The vines are on her again.

Female Tribute from District Seven, Rahni Vohra

The canon echoes out.

"Who was that?" Denim asks.

"I don't know," I say.

"Maybe we aren't the only ones hunting," Yorik says.

"Maybe," I say. The canon sounded close. Too close for comfortable.

"That was close," Denim says. "Maybe we should head back. Check on Proteus and Zenna."

"I'm sure they're fine," I say, although I'm slightly worried too. The canon was close, which I don't like, especially if it was a kill from the Careers.

Yorik shifts around the light. "Maybe this was a bad idea," he says. "Trying to act like Careers."

"I think we should cut the lights," Denim says.

"I agree," I say. Even with all the coverage from the vegetation, it might be a weakness to have light now. Especially with someone dying so close, because who knows if it's another tribute or another predator.

"Let's keep going," I say, attempting to keep my cool. As long as we're moving, we're fine, I tell myself. But truthfully, I don't know what I'm doing. Maybe we're too over our heads at this point. It would be nice if Hilt would send something to us.

But nothing comes from the sky. So instead of getting irritated by the lack of fortune, I let my mind wonder. I wonder what my mother is doing, if she's watching me right now. If she's proud of the leader I'm trying to become here. I wonder if she's giddy by the fact that I'm still alive. I wonder if she believes I'll come back home. I roll my eyes. What are you doing Rahni? You know she's home, drinking white liquor, rubbing her hands up and down the velvet dress. When she's drunkest, she puts it on and dances around the house. I never said it aloud, but I swore she loved that dress more than she did me. And I thought about burning it, I thought about taking it from her so that maybe she would wake up, get out of the little fantasy that she's still gripping on to.

"Do you smell that?" Denim asks. "It smells like a factory."

"All I smell is salt," Yorik says.

I take a good whiff and suddenly I'm smelling pines. "I smell timber." I follow after the smell and arrive at an abundance of glowing yellow flowers. They seem to curve out when they see us, itching closer.

"Nobody touch them," I say. "It's a trap."

"Are they what's causing the smell?" Denim asks. He steps a looking closer, smelling. "Yep."

"You really think it's a trap," Yorik says next to me.

"I don't know," I say. "But let's not risk it. Let's keep moving." We move through the clearing of flowers, ignoring the ever changing scents. It goes from timber to perfume to the smell of apples for me.

Yorik suddenly stops. He coughs.

"What?" I ask, panicking. Is the scent poisoned? My heart flutters and I'm getting ready to run, to sprint out in any direction. But York doesn't look sick. He looks sad.

"It just smells like my grandfather," he says. "His fancy Capitol cologne."

"Oh," I say. I turn around before exhaling. Calm down, Rahni. Don't panic.

"Let's keep moving," Denim says, interrupting the moment.

We keep moving, searching the trees for any signs of a tribute. I try not to think about what will happen if we find anyone. I try not to think about what will happen if we run into Rowena or Avanelle. Both will be out for blood, I know it.

"Did you hear that?" Yorik says.

"I don't hear anything," Denim says. He chuckles. "You're just paranoid, Fishboy."

Yorik looks at me. "I heard something. Someone's here."

I didn't hear anything, but that doesn't mean someone isn't there.

A flock of birds breaks from the bush, screeching out.

I nearly piss myself.

Female Tribute from District Four, Nascha Martlett

Avanelle moves us through the vegetation, determined to find where the canons sounded earlier today.

"There goes another kill," she huffs.

"You think they're killing each other?" asks Rowena. I've volunteered to cover the rear, but Rowena keeps hanging back behind with me, instead of covering the middle.

"I don't know," I say. "Probably," I add. I can't shake the disappointment that swarms around me. It is suffocating. I let Yorik and his alliance take all the supplies. The embarrassment. I sigh. Even if I do win this, I'll have that to remember and no one will let me live it down. Not Orpah. Not everyone back in District Four. Not Tarian. A chill runs up my spine at the thought of him, at the idea that I didn't take all those beatings just to be beat again.

No, this is my silver lining. I'm not letting it slip though my fingers. I'm not letting this fresh start become a bad reputation.

And so with that realization comes a new behavior. I have to start acting like a leader and stop looking lost. It's time to compartmentalize the emotions. Deal with them when I'm on the train back to Four.

I stop for a moment, listening. There's the sound of running water. Excitement hits me. "Water," I say. Avanelle turns back to me. "What you say?"

"Water," I say. Then I add, "You know, the clear liquid you drink."

She laughs. "Finally, a personality."

I walk past Rowena and in front of her. "It's the sound of water. This way." I take lead, heading us through the brush and to wear it sounds like a river. It makes me think of home. It makes me think of all the times I spent sitting the beach, listening to the waves. The sound is different here, though. Softer, really. But still, I know water when I hear it. This is water.

We move through the vegetation, practically running now. I'm sprinting, hurtling past the leaves, until I'm in it. Ankle deep in water. I glance around, hoping to see more, but so much of the arena is covered by night. We have the light from the stars but even that's barely enough.

"About time you did something," says Avanelle. I handle her sarcasm better now.

Rowena goes through her pack and pulls out a flashlight. She turns it on, sending a beam of light out into the darkness.

For a moment, I have this urge to tell her to shut if off, that it will give our location away, but then I tell myself. No more running. No more acting like the hunted. We're Careers. We've trained for this.

So it's time to start making moves to change back the narrative. To take back my story.

There's a sudden tumbling of rocks to the left. Rowena beams the light and catches the tribute mid move. Eyes wide, he jerks up from the spot he's laying and runs.

He stumbles, climbing out of the riverbed, and that's what costs him his life. Because I'm sprinting faster, leaving splashes of water behind me. He attempts to flee into the brush, but I'm on him, taking a knife from my belt and sending it into his back. It's almost too quick killing him.

The canon sounds before I even find out who he is. This boy that marks my first kill.

Avanelle comes up behind me, followed by Rowena.

"Finally," Avanelle says. "We're behaving like Careers."

She walks over and flips the boy over. I stand there, slightly stunned, attempting to process the weight of taking a life. It all happened so quickly, I realize. No one ever mentions that. How easy someone dies.

"It's the boy from Five," Avanelle says. She looks up. "Anyone remember his name?"

"I don't," says Rowena.

I swallow. "Neither do I."

"Well," Avanelle says. "Better to kill a stranger than to kill a friend."

And for the first time, I agree with her.

Male Tribute from District Four, Yorik Questor

Another canon sounds close to us.

"Should we see what's going on?" Denim asks.

"I have a feeling it's the Careers," I say. Which means we'll need to think this through before we go rushing in. We barely made it out of the bloodbath beating them. And then it was because we had the numbers, five to three. Now it's three to three, a fair fight.

"Maybe we shouldn't get involved," Rahni says.

"Maybe we should set up an ambush," Denim says.

"Do you think that's smart?" Rahni asks me. "I mean, it's dark. We're evenly matched."

"I don't think we should ambush them," I say. "I think we should set a trap."

I think back to the flowers. "What if we led them to the flowers? Got them thinking of home."

"Would that distract them?" Rahni asked.

"It distracted me," Denim says.

"Same," I admit. All I could smell was my grandfather as we passed through the clearing of flowers. It rattled me to my core, breathing him in like that. The scent was consuming. It had to be specific in targeting my nerves, in attempting to break my composure, although I'm sure they didn't expect me to lose my grandfather before the Games. Did they? Surely, it wasn't planned. The arenas are created months in advance of the Games. So those flowers were already ideas before my grandfather died. They weren't just intentional to me. Were they?

"So whose going to be bait?" Rahni asks. "And how do we ensure that the Careers run this way. Right into the trap."

"Anyone want to volunteer?" I ask. Neither Rahni nor Denim step forward, raising their hand. I can't blame them. I don't want to volunteer either. Especially with Rowena and Nascha's aim, but something tells me that I need to be the one to step forward. Everyone else has risked something by joining this group, by following my lead. And now, it's my turn to risk something.

"I'll do it," I say. "I'll be the bait."

"Okay," Rahni says.

"Better you than me, Fishboy," Denim jokes.

"The two of you will have to position yourselves underneath the plants," I say. If this goes anything like I'm imagining, Avanelle will take the lead. "Avanelle will come through first. She'll want to kill me just to get back at Nascha." I look over to Rahni. She has the better aim. "You take her out." I think about Rowena. She's injured. "Rowena is injured."

"So handle her last," Rahni says.

"I can get Nascha," Denim says.

"Okay," I say. Because even though I want the Careers dead, I don't know if I can kill my own district partner. I don't think I've reached that level of cold. And a part of me is hoping the same can be said for Nascha, that she wouldn't kill me because she knows that if I win her family can benefit.

"Should we wait until light?" Rahni says.

"No," I say. "I think by then we might miss our chance."

"But what about the flowers?" Denim says. "They're bright."

"Another distraction," I say. I swallow down the nerves. "Now, how are we going to communicate? How am I going to find the flowers?"

"Can anyone whistle?" I ask.

"I can," Rahni says. "But won't you think they'll catch on."

"Can you whistle like a bird?"

"What if you just follow the scent?" Denim suggests. "I can still smell the factory a little."

"You can?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. "Follow me." We walk in the direction that Denim leads us and after what seems like minutes we arrive at the edge of the flowers.

"Okay," I say.

"Maybe Denim should be the bait," Rahni proposes. "I mean, he can smell them. You can't."

"I can now," I say.

"No, she has a point," Denim says. "I can lead them back here."

"But how will you find them," I ask. After walking back towards the flowers in the dark, I've lost all sense of direction.

"Wait," Rahni says. "Maybe we don't need bait." She takes out the flashlight. "Maybe they'll come to us instead."

"You think they'll fall for that," Denim asks.

"They're Careers," she says. "They won't be able to resist it."

A/N: Thoughts on who is gonna make the top twelve?

All deaths are based on realism, plot, and if I struggled to capture the voice of your character.

16th. Female Tribute from District Eight, Zenna Vicary. Corey, you know I love your tributes and honesty you're the reason why I even write on this cite. But with Zenna, I didn't know where to go with her. She was the spider, but sadly it seems the vines got to her before she could start spinning a web. Thank you for submitting her to my story.

15th. Male Tribute from District Five, Jeriah Chern. Olive, Jeriah was someone who I loved on form and loved writing in the Capitol. He was one of my normals to say the least. But with the loss of his ally and simply being at the wrong place, at the wrong time, it was realistic that his end was here. Thank you for submitting Jeriah to my story.