I got my computer fixed, and am here with Day 2! Yess! Three chapters in one week, that must be a record or something for me!

Reviews!

Clis2339: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! It was surprisingly difficult to write, being that I was keeping track of more characters than are even the Arena, but it was fun nonetheless. Thanks for reviewing!

Wolfie McCoy: Well, while Than might have a rather "low" number of points, I know that Sponsors don't mean everything. I'm excited to write for him again, as I'm sure you're excited to hear from him again. Thanks for the review!

dreams and desperation: Unique. That's what I was shooting for, thanks! To be honest, I got the idea from LadyCordeliaStuart, who does something similar. Thanks for the review!

The First Adventuress: Always happy to know you're alive, and don't worry so much about reviewing. We all have insanely busy lives, and I know you wouldn't give up on Forest of Death. I can't be mad or anything if you don't update for a while. As I've said before, I've taken several months between updates. You're fine, really. And hey, I'm a Junior next year!

roses burning: I'm glad you liked it so much, I really do enjoy writing this story, and it warms my heart to know that you enjoy reading. I'm still trying to decide how often I'll do it, but I'm honestly swinging toward every Games day. Thanks for the review!

I want to take a moment to thank everyone who's reading. It's you guys who keep me going, if only so I can hear your kind words every chapter XD. My heart leaps every time my phone informs me that I have an email from Fanfiction, and I'd love to claim you peeps as friends . I'm totally not tearing up right now…

Also, if you want to know how the next few chapters are coming along, I keep track on my profile


Cordin Bolt, Age 16, District 3

District Three Male, Sixth Quarter Quell


The Careers are moving their supplies, away from the Cornucopia and into the jungle. I suspect they think it's too hot up there, but I'm not sure it's much better here. I've been spying on them all morning, as though I have had much choice. They moved themselves into a clearing by my tree, the one I found after the Bloodbath. I can't leave, or I'll surely die.

I'm not sure they'll see me though, this high in the tree. They've made a little camp, using the blankets and sleeping bags and rope to create tents strung about the clearing. I can see their worry, however, about their lack of supplies.

In normal years, the Careers end up supplied with crates of bread and apples and beans and stew and medicines of all sorts, but all they've brought back from the volcano besides their tent materials is weapons. More weapons than they'll ever use. Knives, spears, swords, as well as a trident, a bow, even a crossbow. A few packs, ones I suspect the other outliers didn't get away with.

My original plan was to rob them in the night for my supplies. That seemingly impossible task might be doable with my years of experience, but the volcano forced me to wait, because I could never get back up there and down again. Not alive, anyway.

Now, however, I can actually do it. I can snatch a pack or two, a weapon or two, should they foolishly put the One boy on guard sometime tonight.

And that's another thing. The One boy has a vine wrapped around his body, a leaf pressed to what I can only guess is a wound from the blood snaking its way down his bare back. He and the Two boy have removed their ponchos and undershirts, hoping to fend off the heat. The sluggish movement from One, though, makes me suspect there's something more than heat factoring here.

I don't know a lot about dressing wounds, but I'm pretty sure it's bad to use a jungle leaf.

"Well, here's the last of it!" The Two boy calls as he enters the clearing with his Partner, and the Four girl looks up. One doesn't move. "Now can we do something about him?" He asks, exasperatedly gesturing toward One. The girl from Four says something, then moves to the packs, piled near one of the makeshift tents.

She rips open one of the two green packs, yanking out some tree climbing gear, an axe, and a massive pair of goggles. I almost gasp when I recognize them. Night vision, something that doesn't belong in the Arena. The girl just moves on to another bag however, unhappy with her findings.

I make a note to watch what happens to those goggles. When I make my run, I will have to take those with me.


Cassia Maurise, Age 18, District 2

District Two Female, Sixth Quarter Quell


"So…" I say, trying to keep the excitement from my voice, "I think it's about time to go hunting. Who's going with me?" I look around our camp, to where Mera is looking for a better sword. Mason glances up at me from where he's sitting, and Marcus doesn't flinch from his tent.

"Whoa whoa whoa, missy, you can't say you're the one going just yet." Mera growls, standing up. "We need to figure out who's going to go and who's going to guard the supplies." I roll my eyes at this.

"Right. Well, Marcus is in no condition to go anywhere, so he can stay here." I glare back to Mera, who folds her arms.

"And what if someone comes with the intent of stealing, Cassia? He can't stop them now, can he? No, someone must stay back and guard." She looks over at the boy from One. "Marcus? Think of a number between one and thirteen, honey. The two closest to your number will go hunting, the one furthest will stay here." She grins at me, and I snarl.

"Okay." He groans.

"Six." Mera declares, staring me in the eye.

"Ten." Mason pipes up.

"Two." I say, figuring my District can't steer me wrong.

"I chose eight. Sorry Cass." Marcus' voice catches slightly as he says my name, though it's almost a whisper.

"That settles it!" Mera grins sweetly, and oh I want to stab her in the throat right now. "Grab your stuff, Mason, we have tributes to kill." She brushes past me, into the trees, and Mason is left scurrying to pick up his own sword.

"Sorry Cass." He mumbles as he passes me. I bare my teeth like a jaguar, and he has the audacity to look ashamed. He disappears into the jungle, leaving me alone with the liability.

I remove my vest in anger, throwing it to the ground. The sound of metal striking metal can be heard as the knives settle. I stomp over to the fire pit, and set to work building up a flame. Maybe I can catch something while the others are gone. We don't have anything that we can cook in our packs really, and I'm itching to kill something.

I strike a match, pressing it against the kindling below the wood. Slowly, a light appears, then more quickly, an inferno. I step back quickly, already drenched in sweat. This darned Arena.

"Cassia?" I can hear Marcus moaning from his tent, and I almost ignore him. Then I imagine Mason finding out I let him die, and then the Careers disbanding early. While I want them all dead, I have no desire to brave the Arena by myself. Yet.

"What is it?" I ask, allowing the annoyance to lace my voice. I stride to his tent, where I see him trying to sit up. His face is carved in a grimace, and I smirk at his weakness. He doesn't belong here. The wound in his back and his inability to fight through it are proof of that.

I look down at my right hand. My throwing hand. The Five girl's knife cut across my palm, a wound that should be healed in a matter of days. My bandage was caused by my own strength, my courage.

"I'm… Sorry." He says, finally looking me in the face. "But, um… Could you get me some water please? My lips are really dry, and I think that that might help…" He looks away, unwilling to say more. Again, I want to ignore him, but I have no choice.

I turn, remembering that the remaining bottle of water was left in one of the green bags, alongside an axe, some matches, and a pair of those weird goggles. Mera says she thinks she knows what they are, but she won't tell us until later. I look up to where the bags were left, and gasp.

Standing there, as though handed to me on a silver platter, is the boy from Three. Slinging a green pack over his shoulder.

"Hey!" I speak in anger, without thought. The boy turns eyes wide, before he smirks and sprints into the jungle. I run back to where I left my knives, a quarter of the way around the clearing, and I throw the vest on. I run at full speed to where the boy disappeared, breaking the treeline and searching frantically. I can't hear him, so he must have stopped. He can't be far.


Devon Rose, Age 17, District 5

District Five Female, Sixth Quarter Quell


I decided this morning that I should get moving, before I stagnate. While the area I set up in yesterday has plenty of food, I know that I'll quickly get boring if I scavenge all day for two weeks. Besides, there's an edge to the Arena somewhere, and I'd rather not be somewhere I can be surrounded.

I think I'm walking south, but in this thick foliage, who can tell, really? The shadows between trees seem to twist and lunge, and I wonder if I'll even be sane once I get out of here. If I even get out of here. I shudder. Past Quell Victors all seem to be insane to some degree, but then again, aren't all Victors? The Gamemakers always seem to make Quells more horrid and torturous than regular years.

Susan James, who killed random people in her District that she thought were opponents for five years after she won. Haymitch Abernathy, the boy who won a century ago and was punished for using the Arena's forcefield. Gloss Xerces, who witnessed the brutal death of his sister, and survived two Games. Amber Zaman, who, many suspect, resorted to cannibalism during her Games. Soldier Renslaw, the lone Victor with no chance of ever bringing one home.

Of all the years to enter the Arena, why did it have to be a Quell?

I pause as I hear the sound of running water. Pushing past a few more trees, I find myself on the bank of a wide river. It's not moving very fast, but I have no desire to swim through it; it looks deep, and who knows what's lurking at the bottom. Besides, it would take hours to dry my clothes again.

I decide, finally, to follow the river, searching for a narrow spot or some trees that would allow me to climb across. After perhaps an hour of walking, I come across a rather shallow area, with three rather large black boulders where the water becomes deeper. Happy with my lucky break, I hop across, though my now wet boot slips slightly on the second landing. I take stock of my knives again before continuing, and I'm relieved to see I still have six.

It must be another hour before I see a clear light through the trees, and I pick up my pace. I can smell the sea air, hear the waves crashing onto the beach, and I realize we're on an island. The Gamemakers do this often, I know, to keep the tributes from finding the true barrier. I reach the treeline, but I freeze as the dull ring of a cannon fills the air.

Briefly, I wonder who else died before I step out onto the sand.


Denny Rico, Age 14, District 10

District Ten Male, 6th Quarter Quell


Cheyenne and I woke up early this morning so as to hopefully start walking before the Careers got up. We haven't seen hide nor hair of other tributes yet, though I suppose that's to be expected. It is only day two.

And we've already lost an ally.

I can't say I knew Keola that well, and we didn't really talk a lot during training. She was, however, part of our small group, our best chance of survival. She was a person, not just another face from another District. Seeing her face in the sky last night hit hard, just as the other seven did. It's hard to believe that I'm here when they are not.

It's not hard to believe how hot it is here, though. I'm sweating through my shirt, and it's around four in the afternoon, if I'm correct. The extreme shade surrounding us is no help, and I wonder if all jungles are this warm, or if it's only a trick by the Gamemakers. To make us miserable, as though 25 of us dying isn't misery enough.

I look up again, to where Cheyenne is pulling ahead. It amazes me how at-home she seems to be here, despite a certain lack of forests back in Ten. She moves quickly and with ease, her agility pushing her over fallen trees and mud puddles. I, on the other hand, am not so fast, less made for moving through such a dense forest.

I'm breathing heavy, the pack I volunteered to carry weighing me down. Come to think of it, that might be why I'm pushing forward like a bull in the desert, unable to gain my footing properly. "Can we stop?" I ask at last. It feels weird asking a younger girl for a break, but I'm sure that if it was up to her, we'd keep walking until we reached the end of the Arena.

She turns, taking in my appearance before finally sitting down. She hasn't spoken since last night, and while I can't blame her, I wonder if she's mad at me. I ran away, putting our lives in jeopardy just from lack of supplies. I remove the bag, the bag she risked her life for yesterday. There's no food left in it, and we've yet to find a water source to fill our bottles, but I'm happy to not have the weight on my shoulders. She takes it, slinging it over her shoulder before leaning back again.

"How you doing?" I ask for what feels like the hundredth time. She glances at me hesitantly.

"I'm done. I just want to go home." She says, looking away again. She breathes deeply, letting it out loudly. I nod in understanding.

"Perhaps you can, Chey." I reach my hand to touch her shoulder, but I stop, instead letting it drop to my lap. She doesn't move, as though she didn't notice. "We're still together. Half the tributes can't say they have an ally, so we're already up on them."

She glares at me. "Let's see." She says, holding out her hand. She starts to tick her fingers off as she names tributes. "As far as we know, the Threes are separated, as are the Fives and Sixes. The boys from Seven and Nine are probably, as is Willow from Eleven. That leaves five Careers and the boys from Four and Eight. The arguably strongest tributes all have allies, Denny. Where does that leave us?"

"In a better spot than some may expect." I reply, smiling slightly. "People like you, so we must have Sponsors, and-" I freeze as I feel something pressing against my back, and I see Cheyenne looking at me, eyes wide. The sensation vanishes, and I quickly jump to my feet, turning to look at the offending creature.

The tiny, playful eyes of a jaguar cub look back at me, her head cocked as she sits casually.

I look around for Cheyenne, but she's nowhere to be seen. I kneel down in front of the cub, who I can guess is lost. I reach out, wondering what I'm going to do with it, when a deafening howl cuts through the air.

I jump back again, and the cub disappears into the trees. I look around frantically, deciding which way Cheyenne went. I think I see her fleeing form in the distance, but before I can follow her, another roar, louder than the last one, comes in the direction of the cub. I turn back, and a small cry escapes my lips.

In front of me, stalking her way down the tree I had just been sitting under, is a full-grown mother jaguar. Her teeth are bared, like dozens of daggers eager for blood. Her muscles stretch and flex under her hide, a sight so mesmerizing and utterly terrifying. Her eyes are an icy blue, staring into my soul.

I give a small yelp, before turning and running as hard and as fast as I can. My only hope is that the cat will leave me alone once I'm away from her kitten. Everything blurs as I run, and I don't dare look back for fear of looking back into the eyes of my killer.

I scream as pain flares down my back, a feeling of being ripped apart beginning in my right shoulder. I collapse as the jungle cat flips over me, and I start to scramble away as her jaw releases. The reprieve is brief, however, as another howl cuts straight to my heart, which I swear is no longer beating. I look up as the feline pounces again, her teeth clamping around my throat.

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't…


Jetta Carter, Age 17, District 6

District Six Female, 6th Quarter Quell


These boots are supposed to help us traverse the rocky terrain, to climb over roots and stomp through puddles. Mine somehow keep slipping in moss and on vines, but I haven't fallen flat on my face. Yet. I know it's only a matter of time before I fall, and a fall here could quickly become lethal.

But that's what they want, isn't it? They'd love to see me trip over my own feet and break my neck, love to see me year after year on Top Ten Tribute Fails. They'd love to watch me die, that's why I'm here in the first place.

I wonder for a moment if the cannon earlier today was because of a tribute's own mistake, or if the Gamemakers or another tribute forced their death. While I'll have no way of knowing unless I win, I will at least learn who it is tonight. Likely a loner like myself, defenseless and weak as the Careers bore down on them. I shiver, the image sticking to my brain. I must survive. I have to.

I don't see how likely that is, though. I have no allies, no supplies, no way of getting Capitol citizens to Sponsor me. I know Railer is trying his best, but there's only so much he can do. And what could I have done? While I would have loved to have allies, I know I couldn't bear watching one or more of them die, after bonding for who knows how long. And running into the Bloodbath is suicide, as the eight tributes from yesterday found out.

I had thought that I might find something here that I could turn into a blowgun, some dried out vines or something. My risk was quickly realized, however, when everything here appeared to be lush and green, useless for making such a weapon. While I could easily craft some darts, the gun itself is proving to be a serious issue. While the tube would likely have been brittle, at least I could use it once or twice. Crap isn't looking so good.

I wish the trees weren't so thick here. I might be able to see where I'm walking and stop sliding all over the place.

Suddenly I pause, straining my ears toward a sound unlike anything I've heard in this jungle thus far. The birds have paused, and it seems as though the whole area is holding its breath. I take a tentative step forward before slamming to the ground, my legs falling from underneath me. I collapse to the forest floor, slipping under a plant of some sort before I hear voices.

"I wonder if Cassia had some action back at camp." I freeze in fear as the boy from Two speaks, heard but unseen. I remember the phantom stories my parents used to tell me to scare me when I was little, and I imagine this is what it was like to be a victim.

There's a laugh. "Action? I doubt it. Maybe to change One's diapers. Or maybe she's still pouting about staying behind." I recognize the Four girl.

"What is your problem?" I hear Two demand. "What do you have against my District Partner? Or Marcus?"

"I'm sorry, am I hurting your feewings?" She asks in a babyish tone, "Because if you'd like, you and One can snuggle up together while the ladies go hunting tomorrow. Would you like that?" There's a crashing in the bushes behind me, and I picture the duo wading through them, heading straight for the volcano.

"You've got to be kidding me, Mera. If you had any sense, you'd-" There's a pause, and I realize that the Careers must have been almost right on top of me. A boot appears a few meters away, and, by the color of the poncho far above it, I see that it's the Two boy. "Would you look at these, Mera? They can't be natural, but… I don't know."

My heart begins to race as the plants around me twist around, the Four girl actually stepping over me. She squats down next to the spot where Mason was looking, examining it closely.

"Probably not wildlife." She determines, standing up. "Definitely a tribute. To be honest, though, I have no way of telling which way he or she went."

"Wait, look!" I turn my head away, eyes closed, certain that I have been discovered and a sword is about to pierce my neck. "There are more tracks heading that way!"

"You're right! They must have gone in that direction! Good eye, Mason!" I hear them crashing through the underbrush again, and I slowly open my eyes. Their retreating figures don't convince my heart to leave my throat.

Slowly, disbelieving in my own luck, I stand and run in the opposite direction.


Cheyenne Bruno, Age 13, District 10

District Ten Female, 6th Quarter Quell


I can't believe I did that. My tongue seemed to swell up, but my legs had no trouble propelling me backward. We both heard the roars, we both knew the danger. I acted, he didn't. Now he's dead.

It's hard to believe that I had been talking to him, right before it happened. He had been comforting me, trying to convince me that despite everything, one of us can make it out alive. I had already started backing away when the kitten showed up, and by the time the mother had shown herself, I was already half gone. The roars and screams behind me only elevated my terror, and the pack I had only just accepted from him seemed to weigh nothing in my flight.

He screamed, oh he screamed, before another howl drowned it out, then everything was silent, before the dull cannon piercing my heart like ice. I dared not look back. I dare not even speak. The beast is still out there, I know, and I'm the only one who knows about it.

Surviving another day is of no comfort to me anymore. Earlier today, I had an ally, a friend, a reminder of home. The day before, I had two allies. Now I'm alone, scared, and one of the two youngest tributes left alive. Two thirds of the competition is above sixteen, and I know the Sponsors will be gravitating towards them. Perhaps Denny was the lucky one, the one who died so honorably. I was the coward. The weak one.

Tears are streaming down my face, and I'm forced to stop my wanderings for the night. It's really late, and I should have stopped earlier, but I wanted to get as far from that place as possible. The death recap should be soon, but I don't need to see it. I know what it will show me.

Or maybe I need to look. One last sendoff to my ally, my Partner, my friend.

I'm already halfway up a mangrove as the anthem begins to blare over the Arena, the strained chords faint but overbearing. I look to the sky as the Panem seal fades away, and there he is, alive for the last time. His face, staring down sadly upon the Arena, accompanied by nothing more than District 10. That's all he was to them, to the people who sent him here. Who sent me here. He was alive, and now he won't see anything again. He won't know what happens to me, what might have happened if we weren't attacked.

His portrait fades away, and I long for it to reappear, just once more, so that I might properly say goodbye to him. Not to some ghost, someone who's death I might have prevented, but to a friend, someone who gave me hope. I can't do that now, he's truly gone.

As I climb back to the jungle floor, I realize that I want to win. I will win. For me. My family. For Tabitha.

For Denny.


18th Place: Denny Rico, District 10 Male, Age 14

Slain by the Jaguar

Time in Arena: 1 day 6 hours 37 minutes 14 seconds

Honestly, I came to a point where I had no clue what to do with Denny. He's an interesting tribute, but I felt I wasn't doing him any justice. I really did love this little alliance, and I can't believe it has fallen apart so quickly. I'm sorry Denny, but apparently you didn't have enough to win. Perhaps if you were faster than Cheyenne. Thanks Faceless for Denny!

26th: Sparky Montgomery, Age 12, District Thirteen Male

25th: Kenzi Williams, Age 16, District Seven Female

24th: Tulle Salane, Age 15, District Eight Female

23rd: Thorn Ashburry, Age 13, District Eleven Male

22nd: Keola Foeba, Age 13, District Twelve Female

21st: Harvest Miller, Age 14, District Nine Female

20th: Rebelle Rine, Age 13, District Thirteen Female

19th: Soot Maloy, Age 13, District Twelve Male

18th: Denny Rico, Age 14, District Ten Male

Sponsors!

dreams and desperation: 226 (Cassia Lyra Maurise, District Two Female)

The Fangirl in Pink Jeans: 95 (Infiniti Reagan, District Three Female)

caitiebug007: 101 (Devon Cynthia Rose, District Five Female)

roses burning: 123 (Devon Cynthia Rose, District Five Female)

The First Adventuress: 198 (Aran Quade, District Six Male)

JaymanRepublic: 111 (Logan Woodson, District Seven Male)

Clis2339: 151 (Henry Reynoso, District Eight Male)

Wolfie McCoy: 81 (Thanatos Rize, District Nine Male)

Mystical Pine Forest: 185 (Cheyenne Bruno, District Ten Female)

Alliances!

Careers (226 points): Marcus (1), Mason (2), Cassia (2) (226, dreams and desperation), and Esmeralda (4).

Malaran (Araya?) (198 points): Malaya (1), Aran (6) (198, The First Adventuress)

Brains and Brawn (151 points): Blue (4), and Henry (8) (151, Clis2339).

Loners!

Infiniti (3) (88) (88, The Fangirl in Pink Jeans)

Cordin (3)

Devon (5) (224) (101, catiebug007) (123, roses burning)

Darius (5)

Jetta (6)

Logan (7) (111) (111, JaymanRepublic)

Thanatos (9) (81) (81, Wolfie McCoy)

Cheyenne (10) (185) (185, Mystical Pine Forest)

Willow (11)

Questions!

Favorite POV?

Thoughts on Denny?

What about Jetta's amazing luck?

Cordin's?

Cheyenne's terrible luck?

Thoughts on the future?

Who will die next?

Anything you want to see?