Day 3! And what an interesting day it is! This one was fun to write, though it took me forever to get the thoughts in my head readable XD.

Reviews!

dreams and desperation: I know, I'm feeling pretty great about my current update speed! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for the review!

The First Adventuress: They haven't been too hard to write as of yet, and the almost pattern like setup of the whole thing honestly makes it simpler, and certainly easier than writing actual Games chapters at times. Thanks for the review!

Clis2339: Don't worry, I'm sure there'll be action at some point XD. It's the Games, after all! Thanks for the review!

Wolfie McCoy: As fun as it would be to be Collins under another name, I am not, sadly. Thanks for the complement, though, and the review!

roses burning: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, it is quite fun when the repetitiveness isn't killing me. I think I'm going to keep those around. I'm happy you're happy about Elliot and Gio. It was short but I suspect we'll hear more about it later. Thanks so much for the review!

Also, I wrote the last 2 POVs shortly after suffering some minor head trauma. Anything that didn't make sense? Typos, grammer, etc?

A note of advice: watch for flying PVC pipes. It does not feel good when one strikes you in the head.


Henry Reynoso, Age 14, District 8

District Eight Male, Sixth Quarter Quell


Blue and I got up early again, and my throat is already raw. While I got a few filled water bottles in the Bloodbath, we've yet to find a water source. We decided to go south today, hoping for water and our chance to survive. We move sluggishly but determinedly, and I'm sure we're a strange sight to the people watching us around the country.

I'm surprised at how quickly I've become attached to Blue. He's not exactly like my friends at home, but perhaps that's why I've enjoyed talking to him so much, getting to know him. He's so different from the people back in Eight, and the curiosity must be what drew me to talk to him.

Friends. A concept normally shunned in the Games, but our past lives might as well not exist anymore. Most of us won't have the chance to make friends ever again, so we cling to each other like a lifeline, some sense of familiarity in this world we've been thrown headlong into.

I think of my friends. James. The trickster whose mother died in childbirth. Rebecca. The bright soul who has a younger brother she supports by herself. Like me, people from tragic pasts and the need for someone to vent to. The need for someone who understands, who isn't full of pity. The last time I talked to either of them is almost a dream, a dream too good to be true.

No, Blue might as well be the only person I know. The only person who would grieve after my death, in a jungle filled with people who wish it more than anything, deep down. He's the older brother I always wanted, the one who can protect me from the bullies. But these aren't the bullies back home who poked and prodded and knew I couldn't fight back. These ones have a full intent to kill me.

My mind is jolted from its wandering as I slam into Blue's back. He's stopped, head turned and straining. I step back and look at his face, his eyes shifting randomly. His head swivels around to look at me, and a broad grin lights up his face. He never smiled in training, I don't think. He's loosened up in the Arena.

"Do you hear that?" He asks quietly. He barely raises his voice, aware of the ever-lurking danger that is the Careers. "It's faint, but it's there nonetheless."

I look at him for a moment, before stepping beside him. I strain my ears, unsure of what I'm listening for. Then, at last, I hear it.

The angry roar of river rapids.

While we both want to sprint headlong to the water, we also know that that would not be a good idea. We would dehydrate faster, but we would also alert anybody nearby to our presence. While I have placed my faith one-hundred-percent behind Blue and his spear, I don't want to see anybody die today, least of all myself and Blue.

We walk for at least an hour, and the sun is up now, directly above the Arena. The sound of rushing water has swelled to a crescendo, and as we break through one more section of trees, we can see the river through a slit between the trees. We march forward, and behold the sight.

The bank here is almost nonexistent, with about a foot of volcanic rock raising above the water level. The current is fast here, and I imagine it will become a white-water rafting course after the end of the Games. The angry liquid crashes around spikes of stone, foams in twisting lines over its width. Falling in would mean certain death, but Blue and I don't need to cross it. Not today, at least.

"Come on!" Blue shouts, waving me toward him. He's started walking upstream, no doubt looking for a place where the water will no doubt be cleaner and safer. I follow, and it's only a few minutes before we find a place to stop and fill our four bottles we had emptied the last two days. I take another swig from our last bottle as Blue adds a drop of iodine to each, before holding it out to him.

"Thanks." He says, drinking a fair amount himself. "So. You wanna go find something to eat?" He asks as he hands it back to me.

I watch him test the tip of his spear before I answer. "Sure, why not?"


Marcus Caelum, Age 17, District 1

District One Male, Sixth Quarter Quell


My vision has started to blur, and I'm cold. So cold. Someone has propped me up in the sunlight, and I suspect it's Mason. The figure hurrying around camp and tending to me is wearing red, something the Twos are wearing if I remember correctly. And Cassia's too inconsiderate to help.

I want to scream in frustration. I am a Career, not some stupid outlier! I don't know what's happening, but I'm almost certain that it isn't good. I remember the jungle being sweltering only yesterday, and today I have several blankets and a bright orange fuzz in front of me, but it doesn't help.

I think the girls went hunting this morning, and I remember them fighting over it last night, before Mason volunteered to stay back with me. It seemed unlikely, but maybe that's not what happened. Yesterday, I thought I saw Cassia chase a tribute into the trees and not kill them, but that's impossible, surely. I don't think anybody in this Arena could escape Cassia or Mera.

I watch curiously as the orange thing in front of me slowly shrinks into oblivion, before a larger, darker red one suddenly appears. I cough, trying to scare it away, away from my line of sight, so that I may see the orange thing. It's moving around carefully, unaware of the nuisance it is. I will shoo it away, I think, get it out of my way. It's in my way. Slowly, shakily, I reach out, another fit of coughs wracking my body as the piercing cold penetrates my hand, my wrist, my forearm. The red thing seizes my hand, I think, before it disappears. I retreat my arm, and am confused to no longer see or sense the orange blur.

There's a faint sound, something I almost recognize, coming from above me. I move slowly, the light hurting my eyes. I'm forced to close them, and the sound becomes more penetrating. I want to move to that wonderful sound, that melodic electronic beep that makes me feel hope. I open my eyes again to see a silver blur disappear behind a wall of green. The noise stops, and I look back to the orange. Wait. Where did it go?

Something moves. I look, and I see a tall green thing, darker than the light wall that surrounds me. It stands by a pile of black and silver, and I blink as a sharp light emits from the stack. A piece of the silver merges with the green, before growing larger and larger together.

While this game of colors has been interesting, I'm tired. I want to fall asleep, but I want to see what the green thing does. It towers over me now, and I notice the stark white circle on top of it. Nope, sleep. I feel myself fall back, and the world goes dark.

I hope the orange would be willing to help me push back the blackness. Black is boring.


Thanatos Rize, Age 15, District 9

District Nine Male, Sixth Quarter Quell


I've been watching the Careers since last night, and I've learned a few things in that time. One: They have next to no supplies. Two: The girl from One abandoned ship. Three: She injured her District Partner, and the boy from Two knows nothing about survival. Four: The Careers are going to be reduced to three extremely soon. Five: Tensions among them are high. Very high.

The girls from Two and Four got into an argument last night, causing the Two boy to stay back and guard One and the supplies. The girls left early this morning, and I had to hide in the shadows as they headed south in my direction. Since then, the boy from Two has been trying his best to care for the slightly younger boy, having changed his bandages at least twice. It is because of him that I am still here, a few meters into the treeline, hidden from sight.

As I watch, he squats down between One and his fire, and begins speaking. I don't catch what he's saying, but he seems frustrated about his inability to coax a response out of the other tribute. One breaks out into a coughing fit, his body shaking, before his arm reaches out toward his ally. Two grabs his wrist, looks down at the dying fire, then jogs into the trees, disappearing from sight.

This is my chance! I think, stepping forward. I can get a weapon and kill One, then get out before the Career gets back. I'm about to do it too, when a metallic beeping sound cuts through the air. I look up and curse inwardly as I catch sight of the silver parachute descending toward me. Harvest. That wretched mentor of mine is going to get me killed!

I stand impatiently as it comes, and catch it in midair, opening it quickly. Inside the small box, I find a bag of food, a pair of binoculars, and a small slip of paper. I hastily throw the cord connected to the binoculars around my neck, shoving them under my poncho. Then, the bag of jerky finds itself stuffed in my pants pocket. I unfold the note, and read the two words.

Patience. –Harvest

Anger boils up in my chest. She just wants me to die, doesn't she? That manipulative little girl! She wants me to not take this golden opportunity for supplies and a way of defending myself, and she bribes me with a day's worth of food and a way to watch the fighting from far away? No! My useless mentor can't seem to do squat for me, so I will do it myself!

I remove my hood as I look up, where I hope Ms. Summer can see me on her little screen. I shake my head slowly, throwing the empty parachute to the ground. I will not play her Game! I'm going to act. Now.

I march past the trees into the clearing, staring down the One boy. He watches me curiously as I make my way to the unguarded pile of weapons in the middle of the camp, spying the scythe I know was originally left for me. The Careers should have burned what they weren't using. Now they'll pay for their foolish decision.

The staff of the weapon sparks a memory in my arms, one of the years of practice I gave myself, one of my Session with the Gamemakers and what I did to score a Nine. This is a weapon of death and torment, a weapon created for my sole use. A reaper of souls.

I look up at One, whose gaze hasn't left me. I stride over to him, and let my anger control my actions. He stares up at me as I ready my weapon, ready to swing forward and drive the point into his heart. I rear back, watching his expression for a betrayal of his thoughts. Some semblance of what's going to happen. As I watch, his eyes roll into the back of his head, and I strike. The cannon sounds as my blade penetrates his skin, and I notice for the first time the dark tendrils reaching over his back and around his neck.

I want to scream in anger as I realize: Harvest lost me the kill. If she hadn't sent me anything, I might have killed him. But the infected wound somewhere on his back did the job I was more than capable of completing.

I stand, looking around for the backpacks I had spotted earlier. They're to my right, near one of the tents, but before I start toward them I hear a voice calling out. "Marcus! Marcus, are you alright? Marcus!" The Two boy breaks through the trees again, on the other side of the backpacks. If I try to nab one, he will surely kill me. So I do what's best for my own survival, and flee.

I'm almost to the edge of the clearing when the rattle of metal breaks the sounds of the jungle, and a spear leaps out from behind me, lodging itself in a tree. In his rage, the buffoon missed. I don't dare look back, not knowing how Mason will react to what just happened. I cut my way through vines and saplings, and don't stop until I hear the voice call out again, faint in the dense brush.

"How dare you? I will KILL YOU!" There's no noise again after that, so I move on as steadily and calmly as I dare. Perhaps my mentor was right.

Winning isn't simply outlasting the others.


Willow Orchids, Age 13, District 11

District Eleven Female, Sixth Quarter Quell


I hear the dull thud of the cannon, but I don't react out of fear. I've been pretty much living in this tree the past two days, my years of experience from climbing in District Eleven helping me move from branch to branch nimbly and steadily. My balance has kept me from falling, and that same balance helps me keep still even now, when I need it most.

I look down again from my vantage point, past the water and to the opposite bank, where two girls are arguing again. One of them has a knife in either hand, the other a sword, the tip casually embedded in the black dirt. I can't hear what they're saying, but they've been here the past hour, collecting water and fighting.

They pause at the cannon, however, and look at each other, before conversing a little more quietly and walking upstream. I thank the heavens above for my decision to pick a tree on the bank near heavy rapids, or they could have simply swam across and found me. The girls from Two and Four are strong and intimidating, but I suspect they'd never survive swimming through this.

I know I have to move though, in case they somehow saw me. I hate to consider it, but I suspect they went to look for an easier route, make me think I was safe. No, I can't let that happen. Regretfully, I sling my pack over my shoulders and begin to make my way down, carefully watching for footholds and branches to support me as I climb to the ground. I don't know how far upriver the Career girls will have to go, so I need to be fast.

My ankle rolls slightly as I hit the ground, but I take little notice. Images flash through my mind, of what Careers have done in past years when they caught a tribute that couldn't fight back. That escaped their clutches before. I remember the Twelve girl, her face appearing in the night just after Thorn. The life-ending snap of her bone. No. I cannot be like them. I'm going home, whether they like it or not.

I run as fast as I can through the jungle, unsure of whether or not I can sacrifice stealth for the sake of speed. I feel like I make good time though, as the trees and plants and black stone blur in the corners of my vision. I allow the images to continue to project themselves before me, so that they may propel me onward, toward safety. Despite my best efforts, the adrenaline vanishes quickly, and as such, I grow tired fast. I can't be a kilometer away when I have to stop and brace myself against a tree, though I should be fine for now.

It's a lot of work, surviving here. One wrong step can get you a broken neck. One wrong decision, and it's kill or be killed. I've been lucky so far, but how long will this streak last?

No, I can't think that way. I will go to the end of the Games, and long after that.


Esmeralda Dawn, Age 18, District 4

District Four Female, Sixth Quarter Quell


I can't believe it's only Day Three. Already, I'm done with this Game. I was supposed to come in here, kill a few tributes and be wearing a crown before I knew it. I wasn't supposed to have to deal with mouthy Allies.

We've been on our way back to camp for the past couple hours. We were forced to leave after only looking for the Eleven girl for only around a half an hour, or risk having to trek through the night. It hasn't really begun to grow dark yet, and we are making our way around the southeast side of the volcano, if I'm correct, and if it weren't for the pesky Two girl I'd almost be enjoying this.

"Next time you tell me not to, I'm going to anyway." She says for like the hundredth time. She wanted to try and throw a knife at the girl from across the river, and I told her that I didn't want her death to be too quick. If she hadn't charged out to the water the second she saw the girl, we might have made our way around, undetected.

But no. We're going back, empty-handed, with another death having happened elsewhere in the Arena. Again. "Mmhm" is my only response, to which she goes silent for a moment, and I smile as I imagine her expression.

I pick up my pace as I smell the smoke of a campfire. Maybe Mason had something to do with today's death. It'd be nice if Cassia's bickering would cease, if only for a moment. Distract her long enough to figure out a way to properly counter her arguments.

We break through the trees in silence, the sky growing darker and the sides of the tents illuminated by an unseen light. The crackling of the wood becomes audible as we weave through our camp, and I pause as I see a lone figure kneeling beside the fire, their back to us. Cassia continues marching ahead, however, and calls out, "So where's the gimpy one?" The figure jumps to standing, and I see the glint of a sword held aloft.

"He's dead," Mason informs her, and I start moving again, "killed by the Nine boy while I was out getting more firewood." I see his head turn, facing me, and I have to say I'm glad the deadweight is gone. I don't care what happened, we don't have to look for any extra food now, since we probably lost the last of it today.

"Dang. I was hoping you had gotten the kill today, because we certainly didn't catch anything." She shoots me a glare, and I want to groan from sheer annoyance. Can't she just let it go? She never would have hit the girl anyway, not with a killing shot. I just helped her conserve her knives. She should be thanking me. "We had treed the Eleven girl, but Esmeralda wouldn't let me."

I roll my eyes. "We never "treed" anyone. The girl was already there, on the other side of a river." I feel stupid, like a child explaining herself to her mother. What even the heck is this? "And, on that note, we actually have a water source. It runs across the Arena from what I can figure, and we walked East today. There's bound to be a good camping spot somewhere, and the tributes will likely flock to it."

"The Eleven girl-"

"Is going to die whether we kill her today or in a week." I interrupt, "We need water to survive right now, not kills. We can try looking for her later." I look to Mason, who has been watching the argument with amusement. He seems as though he agrees with me, and while I wasn't worried, I'm happy to have him on my side. It would be much more difficult moving camp to the river with two uncooperative allies.

The Hunger Games sure aren't what I expected them to be. If things between the Alliance is going to be this difficult, they're going to have to go.


Malaya Garnet, Age 17, District 1

District One Female, Sixth Quarter Quell


I don't understand what's happening to me. Over the past few days, my stress levels seem to be rising, and while that's understandable based on my situation, this is much different than what I had expected. I feel like I'm not in the right place, but I'm where I want to be. I feel like I have things to do, but no desire to do it. I may not understand it, but sitting next to Aran, I have a strange feeling of simply not caring.

I still don't know why I saved him in the Bloodbath. I told myself as I went to bed the night after I first talked to him that I would avoid him as much as possible. That staying with the pack and surviving were more important than having friends. I'm here to win, not expand on my social life.

And yet, somehow I have done just that. I saved his life, putting me in the dishonorable situation of traitor to the Careers, to my family, to my District. To Marcus.

I didn't kill him that first day, a fact which left me relieved. While I honestly never liked him all that much, he was my Partner, my one reminder of home. And I shot him in the back, left him to die. I know any of the others would have likely killed him the second they found out he was injured, though I don't see how he might have gotten away. If he did somehow make it to the jungle, I know he hasn't much time left. If Mera or even Cassia had mercy on him and bandaged his wound properly, he should heal in several more days. Then, he'll be up and moving. And hunting.

Hunting for us.

I know they've likely already tried to search for Aran and I, but I also know that Marcus would be better at finding me than anyone. While we never trained in anything even similar, we are still of the same District, the same academy. He knows my ways better than anyone, though he likely knows nothing about me as a person. My personal life. Aran, on the other hand, does.

I don't know how he does it. Since Day One, he's somehow managed to get me to talk about myself, though he doesn't press or make me feel guilty. He asks, and I somehow feel the need to answer, as though all my worries will vanish if I say it out loud to him. At first, I thought it was because he was going to die anyway. Now, however, I'm not so sure.

I've learned things about him, too. His mother died when he was eight, during childbirth. His father landed himself in jail soon after, and he's taken care of his little sister since then. She's the light of his life. He was arrested the night before the Reaping after he himself had been mugged and broke into a bakery. He likes watching the sun rise, both for its beauty and the fact that it signals the end of his shift.

"Who do you think it was?" He asks quietly. We've barely spoken above a whisper, especially at night. We both heard the cannon go off earlier today, but neither of us has been wanting to bring it up. I know he's worried for Jetta, his Partner.

"I have absolutely no idea." I say, the same thing I said yesterday, before the boy from Ten appeared. I wasn't surprised then, I knew he wasn't making it far. Perhaps his Partner was today. If I mention it, though, it wouldn't put him at ease.

It's really dark right now, and I know they're about to show the recap. The Gamemakers darken the sky so the cameras can better catch the light contrast, at ten o'clock on the dot each night. Our spot on the ground has a perfect view of the sky, as we determined yesterday. As the seal of Panem appears in the West, I sense Aran scoot over, grabbing my hand. I flinch slightly, but somehow, as though my actions were someone else's, my fingers grip around his palm, allowing his to do the same. I hear his breathing go nearly silent, preparing himself for what is to happen.

The seal hovers for a moment, the strained chords of the anthem diving into the hearts and minds of every tribute in the Arena. The words can barely be heard over the music, but we all know it by heart anyway; a song of horns and rising above and being thankful for the generosity shown to us.

I feel more pressure in my hand as the seal shrinks away, Aran's grip tightening like a viper. The face of today's dead appears and I stare at the picture for a moment.

I guess I was wrong. It wasn't the Ten girl. It also wasn't the Six girl. I look at Aran for his expression of relief, but his face is one of horror, of grief. I look up again. I recognize the face, the word District below his picture. The simple number accompanying it-

Then it hits me like a sack of diamonds. Marcus. Marcus, the boy who wasn't even supposed to be here. Marcus, who I joked with and bonded with on the train. Marcus, who stood beside me in the Parade, in training, the Sessions, the Interviews, the common room on Floor One. My Partner. My piece of home.

The boy I shot. The boy I killed.

I look back at Aran, and I can tell he's unsure of how I'll react, worried I might blame him. But what did he do? He wanted to survive, he didn't take the shot, he just wanted to talk to me, make sure I was okay.

I release his hand as tears fill my eyes. The image of Marcus in the night sky is gone, gone forever, and though I can't see him, I know he's there. I lunge forward, my arms reaching around his neck, my face falling against his chest. The top of my head slams into his chin, and he falls back slightly as he realizes what's happening, but I don't care.

What have I done? This is all my fault. What have I done what have I done whathaveIdone whathaveIdone?

I feel myself melt a little as his arms rub my back, between my shoulder blades, small circles that are surprisingly comforting and exactly what I need.

What am I doing here?


17th Place: Marcus Caelum, Age 17, District One Male

Slain by Sepsis

Time in Arena: 2 days 3 hours 36 minutes 1 second

Marcus wasn't originally going to go this soon. I knew he was going to be shot, and Mera or Cassia was going to help him, but then I decided that Mason would be the one to walk his way and Mason is honestly dumber than a box of rocks. I wanted to use his death to expand on Malaya a bit, and so he fell this chapter. Thanks to InfiniteDespair for Marcus, and a Career I never thought I would get.


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

17th: Marcus Caelum, Age 17, District One Male


Sponsors!

dreams and desperation: 240 (Cassia Lyra Maurise, District Two Female)

The Fangirl in Pink Jeans: 103 (Infiniti Reagan, District Three Female)

caitiebug007: 109 (Devon Cynthia Rose, District Five Female)

roses burning: 137 (Devon Cynthia Rose, District Five Female)

The First Adventuress: 212 (Aran Quade, District Six Male)

JaymanRepublic: 119 (Logan Woodson, District Seven Male)

Clis2339: 165 (Henry Reynoso, District Eight Male)

Wolfie McCoy: 56 (Thanatos Rize, District Nine Male)

Mystical Pine Forest: 196 (Cheyenne Bruno, District Ten Female)


Alliances!

Careers (240 points): Mason (2), Cassia (2) (240, dreams and desperation), and Esmeralda (4).

Malaran (Araya?) (212 points): Malaya (1), Aran (6) (212, The First Adventuress)

Brains and Brawn (165 points): Blue (4), and Henry (8) (165, Clis2339).


Loners!

Infiniti (3) (103) (103, The Fangirl in Pink Jeans)

Cordin (3)

Devon (5) (246) (109, catiebug007) (137,roses burning)

Darius (5)

Jetta (6)

Logan (7) (119) (119, JaymanRepublic)

Thanatos (9) (56) (56, Wolfie McCoy)

Cheyenne (10) (196) (196, Mystical Pine Forest)

Willow (11)


Questions!

What did you think of the chapter?

Any mistakes I missed?

Thoughts on today's death?

Favorite POV?

Thoughts on the Careers?

Malaran?

Know any stories that look like they have potential and need tributes? I have literally 3 in stories right now and I want to read more.

Hoping your Thorsday is as fantastical as ever!