As I write this beginning bit, I hope that the day I post will be the 23rd. But hopes are, all too often, dashed by the evil writing gods. At least for me. Anyway…
Yup. The 29th, and I still have 13 POVs to go. Darn.
Reviews!
The First Adventuress: It's so good to hear from you! I know, life, responsibility, et cetera, it happens! If you manage to get one out over the break (I write this three days before my own), great! I hope the same for myself! If not, I suppose that's just how it goes. Thanks for the review, and don't sweat it!
dreams and desperation: Thanks for the review, and I'm glad you liked the chapter so much!
roses burning: I'm pretty good, I think. Winter break is here, and I have time to write XD. Thanks for the review!
Wolfie McCoy: Nah, I'm still here! XD Thanks for the review, and if you're worried, feel free to PM me. I shall not give up!
… You know you've spent too much time away from the keyboard when you can't remember a certain tribute's last name…
On to the 13-page chapter!
Malaya Garnet, Age 17, District 1
District One Female, Sixth Quarter Quell
I've been in the Arena seven days, and nothing is going as I had planned. I'm not with the Careers, leaving two outer Districts as my allies. I'm not sure whether I trust Devon, not like I trust Aran. At the same time, I feel like trusting Aran goes against everything I've ever been taught, which, in a way, it does. One of the first rules you learn at the Academy is to never trust anyone in the Arena, something drilled into our heads as we go through many physical tests and exercises to determine our skill set. I never thought I'd break that rule.
I never thought I'd break the second rule either: stick with the Careers. I never was a particularly vicious one; I wouldn't grab a girl by the hair and laugh as I slit her throat. However, I'm also not against winning the Games either, something that nearly always comes from being with the Careers. So why then would I leave them?
There were supposed to be six of us: Mason, Cassia, Mera, a boy by the name of Tycho, myself and Marcus. I never thought the Pack would fracture so quickly.
I am reminded again of my old Partner, and I wonder again how exactly he might have died. Couldn't have been that arrow wound, could it? I shiver as I remember the shot, meant only to distract him while Aran got away. I was simply going to spare him, not join him. But that idiot jumped in the way and got himself shot. What should I have done? I will admit, I panicked. What would the others have thought? Would they have seen what I had done on purpose? Could I have convinced them otherwise? Did I really care?
But how did his face appear in the sky the third night? Could the other three have thought him dead weight? It wasn't that bad, they could have left him to guard while they hunted. Couldn't have been any reasonable infection; Mera or Cassia or even potentially Mason could have prevented that.
It doesn't matter anymore anyway. I think, shaking my head. You're alive, the Bloodbath's in the past. What happens next is all that matters.
I look away from the tree in which I'm keeping watch tonight. The moonlight filtering through the canopy just reveals the sleeping form of Aran, sleeping on the hard stone after insisting that the girls have the makeshift tent.
Another day, another lifetime.
Cassia Lyra Maurise, Age 18, District 2
District Two Female, Sixth Quarter Quell
Mera lost herself another kill today, the little girl from Ten no less. I swear, the amount of times we've been evaded this week alone makes me almost want to leave these two wannabes and hunt the others on my own. Until Mason is dead, however, that is unadvisable.
In total, the three of us have killed… seven of the total tributes? Marcus had the Seven girl, but he's four days dead. Mason has the Six, Eight and Twelve girls, Mera the Thirteen girl and Soot. That leaves me as the baby-killer of the group, taking the boys from Eleven and Thirteen, the latter being the only twelve-year-old in this year's Games.
I wasn't trying for the boy, no. In fact, Marcus wanted to kill him, the boy who had made fun of him in training. I was more than happy; I'm here to win as much as kill, and if I looked better after my Victory because I only killed older tributes, as well as those who attack me, all the better. Eleven tried to attack on his way down the mountain, which made the conflict unavoidable. Thirteen, however… well, he's only dead because that sneaky witch from Five managed to slither out of my fingers.
I feel around the palm of my right hand, searching under the cover of my sleeping bag for the scar that remains from the Bloodbath. It all happened so fast; the vest, twin flashes of silver, a boy screaming on the ground, my own surprised cries of pain. I couldn't believe the accuracy: that of my own hand as well as Five's. And the child's unluckiest decision in his entire life.
I sit up, suddenly realizing that the Capitol could quickly paint me as the monster of these Games. I can't have that! They'll never let me win if I only kill the younger tributes. If I keep up my current streak, I won't survive. I need to give them a show they'll enjoy, a fierce battle between two tributes that could last hours, potentially.
I'll go hunting tomorrow. Any tribute from Seven or above will be my target. I will redeem myself in the eyes of the throngs.
Infiniti Reagan, Age 17, District 3
District Three Female, Sixth Quarter Quell
Cheyenne's wound really wasn't all bad, it was mostly the terror and exhaustion from the past few days that had been affecting her. Using the bandages from my pack, a little memory from training, and some water from the cenote, I managed to clean her up and get her to sleep while I went to collect some more. I was honestly surprised to find her still at my camp when I returned, but I suppose she might be tired of moving around for a while.
"How are you feeling?" I ask as I squeeze through the trees surrounding my clearing. I catch sight of her jumping slightly as I speak, though her eyes remain on the ocean.
"Okay, I think." She replies quietly. "How did you find this place?" She turns to me. "It's remarkable, considering."
"I just… did, I guess." I say. "Just was kinda walking along the beach the second day; sort of stumbled across it. I was collecting vines when-" I pause, remembering that night. I was looking for the vines for my hammock when the death Recap lit up the sky. When the Ten boy's face appeared. "When, um… I found out about Denny."
We both cringe at my words, and Cheyenne turns away from the fire, shaking silently. "Were you two… close?" I ask tentatively.
"He was my Ally." She informs me, her voice a near whisper now. "There were three of us: Keola, Denny and me. I lost all my Allies in two days." She hugs her knees, bowing her head slightly.
"I'm sorry, Cheyenne." I tell her. "That must have been horrible."
"It was."
There's a long pause before I speak, "I lost my Ally the first day too. I never saw her after we decided on our strategy."
"It's the way of the Game, though, isn't it?" She looks over her shoulder, tears in her eyes.
I nod sadly. "I suppose it is."
Jasper Blue, Age 16, District 4
District Four Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
Another day without death. How many such as this will the Capitol stand for? Not that I want to die any sooner, but it seems to Henry as though the heavy rains on Days Five and Six were for the sole purpose of killing someone, and the Six girl was on the receiving end of that intent. It makes sense; it happens often enough. The fact that they had to do it with so many left is astounding. They don't usually do this type of thing until the final half at least.
And if they should do it again, who will draw the short straw?
I would hope it wouldn't be Henry or I, or even Mera if it came down to it. If neither of us can go home, I'd at least like a Four to. But what of the dozen others that remain? What do I care for them? How would I feel if the girl from Eleven died? Would it be the same as one of the Twos? Has this Game warped me so much that I wouldn't care if one of the youngest remaining tributes fell to the Gamemakers' brutality?
My own sword?
Since the encounter with One and Six, I've wondered how exactly I should react in life-threatening situations. Or even just encounters in general. If I came across Henry after the Final Eight, would I kill him? How would I manage that if we were the Final Two? What if I'm there with Ten or Eleven? At what point do I decide if my life is worth more than someone else's?
So much for being the dark horse Career of these Games. Tycho is, no doubt, laughing his arse off back home, watching as I stumble around with someone who's greatest skill is survival. Not that I'm complaining, of course; the stuff that my young Ally has managed to come up with is incredible, especially since he received his Sponsor gift the other day.
He's sleeping now, peacefully curled against a hollow in a mangrove. He seems unfazed by the sounds of the night, the chirps of insects and the constant sound of the flowing river. Seven days so far, and we remain unscathed. He remains pure and good.
If we survive the remainder of the Games, I decide, he must be the one to go home. He doesn't belong in this sort of setting; he deserves better than all this.
Devon Cynthia Rose, Age 17, District 5
District Five Female, Sixth Quarter Quell
I'm not sure how much I can trust my new Allies. I know Malaya doesn't trust me; her breathing has been unsteadied ever since she went back to "sleep." I've only been on watch a couple hours now, but I'm tempted to fall back asleep myself. There's no reason for me to be awake if she'll deprive herself of sleep.
And perhaps she wants me to look weak, I don't know. Make me feel uneasy. Aran seems more than happy with accepting me into the Alliance, but I worry about how he might have treated me if I were someone else. Besides, if it comes down to the Alliance breaking, there's no way they'd let me just walk away, would they?
I wonder, here in the dark, if the boy from Twelve ever felt this way. He was accepted into an Alliance he didn't belong in, a fact that wasn't exactly secret among the tributes during training. How hard did he think of that decision before making it? And where has it gotten him now? I brought it up to Malaya today, who explained to me that the others didn't really want her to know the reason, but the fact that he's dead now gives us all reason to believe they were only toying with him. How could anyone be so heartless?
Scratch that, people have been that heartless for centuries. Even before the Games, there were wars and such atrocities that the Capitol just wants to cover up. Our history books have been rewritten simply to omit what they don't want us to see or read.
My gut twists as I think of the outside world, far from here, where the worst I had to deal with was dirty looks and the threat of Darius Thunder hanging over my head like a knife. I had my friends, however, and sweet, sweet Ori. My heart beats rapidly as I picture him in my place, some fifteen years from now. Would he be taught not to make such foolish mistakes in the Arena as Soot Maloy? How could I teach him to be good and trusting, knowing that that could get him killed?
But how could I teach him to be strict and strong, knowing he could become a killer?
Cheyenne Bruno, Age 13, District 10
District Ten Female, Sixth Quarter Quell
The shadows around us dance in the firelight. Since our unavoidable conversation about death, Infiniti and I have transitioned to gentler topics. She's told me about Three, though she refuses to speak on some topics, while I've told her just about everything about Ten. It's strange, feeling so close to someone so much older than me. She must remind me of Charlotte, though they're still a year apart.
She's also spoken avidly about her younger brother Ryker, who's my age. I can't help but wonder: does Charlotte see me as Infiniti sees Ryker?
"I hate to stray back to unfriendly topics." Fin pauses, her voice quieting. "But we both know that we can't avoid the Games forever. So, then," She looks at me, "what are you planning for the new day, Chey? I know I'll have to pack up and move in two or three days, but until then I intend to stay here. What about you?" I look at her, and I realize that we've grown close, closer than we should have in this short amount of time.
Perhaps it's because we both lost friends here. Perhaps we almost see each other as siblings in another life. Companionship is hard to find once the gong rings, and I wonder if I'd ever be able to find it again. If I did, could we meet on such friendly terms?
I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly, though I wince as a shot of pain arcs up my wounded arm. "I'm okay." I say before Infiniti can voice her concern. "I think I'll stay a little longer with you, if that's alright. Give myself some time to heal, and I can at least help you find a better spot when you have to move. It's only fair after you saved my life."
"Sounds like a plan." She smiles. "So, we're Allies then? At least, for the time-being?"
"I'd say so." I laugh, the sound alien among the mangroves.
"If we're Allies, can I see what's in your bag?" She asks, nodding toward my forgotten pack. She did her best to clean the mud off it, but she didn't dare zip it open.
I shrug, "There's not much of use, but sure."
She reaches over, grabbing the bloodstained knife as she does. She decided I should keep it as it was, technically, given to me by the Four girl. She opens the zip, and begins rifling through it. I lean back onto my left elbow, knowing she'll find some iodine, matches…
"What's this?" She asks, and I sit up. In her hands are the strange vial and metal canister.
"Poison, I think," I nod to the vial, "and, um… I haven't quite figured out the metal thing yet."
"Cheyenne?" She looks at me. "This "metal thing" is a bomb."
Mason Lepodolite, Age 18, District 2
District Two Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
With each passing day, it's hard to believe how few tributes have died. I mean, sure, eleven is a lot, when compared to the original twenty-six, but only three have died since the first day. Heck, one of them was a Career. Not very good for our approval ratings, I'm sure.
Eleven deaths, three of which are my own doing, of course. All girls, from Six, Eight and Twelve. The two former's Partner are still out there, and I intend to get them too. I might have killed Soot too, but Mera insisted on getting her way with him.
I can't help but chuckle when I think about my second kill. Eight was annoying, and I had to make it quick. Twelve, however… no, I got to savor her. I can still see the look of terror as her gaze fixed on me, her frustration as she couldn't move. She pleaded with me, told me to leave her be. Oh, but it was just getting good. It took a moment to calm her down, yes, but…
I hold back a laugh, speaking instead in a gentle, almost concerned, tone: "You did a doozy, didn't you Twelve?" I shake my head, and she stares levelly at me.
"If you'd like, I can get you to the base of the mountain." I suppress a smirk as she cocks her head slightly. Oh, what people will believe when faced with death.
"Here." I bend down, reaching for her. She grimaces in pain as she shuffles away in a panic, and I let my annoyance show. "We don't have much time. They'll expect me to join them soon." Not that I'll have a tough time of that, I think.
I step forward, gathering the younger girl into my arms. She slowly relaxes as I take a few steps downhill, curling into my chest. I stop, but she doesn't respond.
Slowly, I wrap my fist around her swelling ankle, strengthening my grip on her torso. She cries out, and I laugh as I spin around, finally releasing her into a freefall down the mountainside.
The young tribute laughs back until she slams into the dark stone, five meters from the vast jungle.
Yes, good times, that.
Cordin Bolt, Age 16, District 3
District Three Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
The darkness here isn't so terrifying, not since I set up camp here. My alcove is about ten feet in diameter, the three-foot break overlooking the ocean keeping me cool during the day, though it can get a bit windy. A particularly large mangrove extends above the others, limbs branching out to make a kind of ladder up either side. Easy access, if you're willing to climb.
And I am. Most nights, I sit in the canopy, scanning the jungle for signs of danger. The night vision goggles I stole from the Careers, I've found, also have a heat-signature setting, one that allows me to see further and better than simple night vision.
Tonight, as I overlook the surrounding area, I see the usual bits of dull orange that make up the wildlife of the Arena: mostly large insects and small animals. I thought I caught sight of some sort of big cat, but it quickly disappeared several days ago. And, of course, there's the deep red of the volcano in the distance.
Tonight, however, I see twin humanoid flames, weaving in and out of the trees, following the cool blue of the river. Near as I can figure, the only possible Alliance is the boys from Four and Eight. Judging by their sizes, it's a pretty good guess. They're still a long way to the south, however, so I'm not as worried about the threat they pose as, perhaps, I should be. I can see them, of course, so that's probably the reason I'm so at ease.
I climb down the tree, content, as the boys seem to prepare for the night. I realize that they're the first sign of the Games since my escape five days ago, but I choose not to dwell on that. The less I see of my opponents, the higher the chance that I will survive another day.
That's all I must do now: survive.
Esmeralda Dawn, Age 18, District 4
District Four Female, Sixth Quarter Quell
My instincts itch for blood, for the feeling one gets as she buries a blade into her opponent, listening to their screams as the light fades from their eyes. I am a weapon of combat, a knife screaming for death. A tool for tortured souls.
That's all I've done in this Arena thus far. Both the Twelve boy and the Six girl felt my cruelty, the boy a solid half hour. Yes, I had my fun with them, but they were bested without combat, without shows of superiority or strength. Most deaths in the Games so far have been that way, from the boy from One to the one from Thirteen. Few exceptions, since we don't know what happened to the girl from Nine or the Ten boy.
The Thirteen girl however… I must admit, she was a worthy opponent.
In training, we were told that it could happen: some desperate outlier, one we thought so low that we could best them with a wave of the hand; one that could do more damage than anyone ever thought possible. It's rare, of course; so rare that we'd never suspect a thing until we were on the ground dead. Victors like Johanna Mason, weak until they could afford to fight head-on. Tributes like that have a habit of winning.
Thirteen had a lot of guts. She taunted me in training, smirked at me as we awaited the countdown. I thought she was trying to seem brave, that she'd really flee when the gong rang. I never thought I'd face her at all, let alone so early, let alone in life-or-death combat.
If it was later in the Games, she might have gotten me. I wouldn't have had my guard so strong, my adrenaline so high. If she had waited a few more years, she might have won.
But stupidity costs lives.
Thanatos Rise, Age 15, District 9
District Nine Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
There's still blood here. Not on the mountainside itself, no. That all washed away with the rains the last couple days. No, but there's several gallons spread in streaks all around the inner walls of the Cornucopia, sitting in dried rivers along the black ground. It's a horrid sight to behold; someone was tortured here.
It's not that hard to figure it out. It must have happened the first or second day, for the Careers had completely moved out by the third- there isn't even a strand of twine lying around. The way the blood hadn't pooled as much indicates a drawn-out death, leaving out just about any Bloodbaths. Except…
There was one cannon, after the first seven had sounded. It had been about an hour into the Games. It was probably him they did this to.
Or her, I suppose.
I can't shake the thought of my District Partner, who managed such a high score despite not having any obvious skills, dying on the first day. Had she been here, held down as a knife sprayed her blood around, screaming until her heart stopped beating? It's a poor ending for anyone, but imagining Harvest on the ground, writhing under the weight of a Career, somehow unnerves me more.
Is it because she was younger than me? Because I had spoken to her, unlike most, if not all, of the others? Is it because she was from home?
I had told myself that I hated her. That she didn't deserve her status. Well, she didn't. She lived a life overlooking the District while I lived in a shack next to a field. She lived a life of joy and prosperity while my parents hated my soul. Why had I been forced to deal with her? Some snobby rich girl who hadn't worked a day in her life and the Capitol loved simply because of her name.
Except she hadn't asked for any of this. She hadn't asked for Wheat to be Reaped for the Hunger Games. She hadn't asked for the experience herself. I had planned for it; I knew I was going into the Games, even if I hadn't expected to be Reaped. What right have I to be angry at her for wanting to survive? For brilliantly pulling a Johanna Mason?
Or had she?
She seemed so shocked when her score showed up. She was still in her pajamas; for the comfort, I had assumed. But… had she even shown up to the Sessions? I wrack my brain, but I can't for the life of me remember seeing her in the waiting room. Granted, the Three boy wasn't there either, yet he got an eight. What's going on here?
I shake my head, refusing to continue this train of thought. She's gone; I can afford to solve that particular mystery later, after I've won.
For now, I must put the memory aside, much like I must with the mess the Careers have created here.
However, like the blood, I know that such memories can be very difficult to wash away.
Logan Woodson, Age 16, District 7
District Seven Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
It's not very fair, living in the outer Districts. We're paid no attention, left to starve. In the Hunger Games, we fade into the background until it's our turn to die. It doesn't matter who we were before we were Reaped; the Capitol takes what it wants, and it will keep taking until we either die, or somehow win.
Already, two Districts dead in this sick Game, seven others halfway there. At this point, I'm District Seven's only hope for a Victor this year, but Two through Five still have both tributes alive and, probably, well. Why is it that Seven either doesn't get far, both dying in the Bloodbath, or we somehow reach the Final Four or win?
Kenzie didn't get very far. I never thought she would, but she had a very loving family and adoring fans all over Panem. Were there riots? Did anyone in the Capitol, who seemed to love her tricks and jokes, shed a tear as she met her bloody end? Would my death be met with silence, people trying to recall my name?
My Partner wouldn't have been very at-home here in the Arena, not like me. She was a model, never working in the lumber yards or mills a day in her life. That should leave me, of the remaining fifteen tributes, with the most advantage.
However, familiarity with the climate doesn't make a Victor, just as the ability to swing a sword doesn't. A Seven might be at home here, but I still need a weapon.
Henry Reynoso, Age 14, District 8
District Eight Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
How exactly I have managed to live this long is honestly beyond me. Or maybe not. I have an Ally, who has honestly done a great job of protecting me and providing me with company thus far. Without him, though, I would no doubt be dead. If I had come across One and Six myself, would I have survived? Probably not, based on how the Six boy reacted to the situation.
But Blue would do just fine on his own, wouldn't he? So why does he stay? Most Victors had an Ally at some point, so he's already set in those terms.
A lot of the other tributes this year never had Allies. Most of them are dead. Jetta, Keola, the Thirteens. Tulle.
I really thought she could win this year. Fifty-five years, and it somehow comes down to me. Cecelia had all the confidence in Tulle, Velvet tried his best to seem like he'd thought I'd make it, but we both knew that that was a long shot. Only one tribute from Eight my age has ever won the Games, and her Victory has so far been our last.
At fifteen, Tulle could have overcome that age barrier. Eight has no Victors her age, but that at least would be more likely than mine. She wasn't unskilled; she somehow had the ability to swing an axe as good as any Seven. Me? I know plants.
You need to be able to use a weapon in the Games. The only weapon I've used thus far is a knife. To crush beetroot seeds.
As the amount of tributes whittles down, I'm going to seriously wish that I could do something other than mix powdered hemlock.
Willow Orchids, Age 13, District 11
District Eleven Female, Sixth Quarter Quell
The Hunger Games can be incredibly lonely, which I think is worse if you were expecting company. A week ago. My last interaction with actual people was with the Careers several days ago, though I'd rather not go through that again.
Honestly though, how can anyone go through an ordeal such as this alone? I know many Victors have, so how are they not insane? Every shadow is a Career here, every movement you make reveals yourself to those who would want to kill you. How did they manage the terror without anyone to find some semblance of comfort with?
For a week now, I've probably been viewed as the weakest tribute left in the Games. I'm one of the youngest, for sure, I'm on my own, and I'm from the outermost remaining District. How am I supposed to keep the odds from affecting my thoughts?
Thorn would have been unfazed, I'm sure. He seemed so strong to me, so capable. He seemed determined to stick with me, help me live if he could. We never talked about what point we would reach before we split, but I wouldn't have been surprised if we lasted to the end.
But now he's dead. I'll never know what he would have been like in the Arena, and I'll never stop wondering what might have been.
I don't cry when I think of him anymore; he's been dead about as long as I knew him. I've somehow managed to outlive him and ten others, something I'd never imagined being able to do on my own.
On my own. If I somehow manage to survive this, it will be of my own volition. Excepting Crysta, my one link to the outside world, I am truly on my own.
Darius Line, Age 17, District 5
District Five Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
The Hunger Games, I've found, were aptly named. I haven't yet found, nor caught, anything I'd trust to be edible. I still have the small pack of jerky I received a few days ago, but I've reduced that supply to two strips already, and I've only had a few per day.
I'm tempted to beg for another gift, but I'm sure my funds were low already and the original package three days ago was no doubt expensive. At this point in the Games, I wouldn't be surprised if gifts are twice as expensive as before.
Despite the ever-present hunger, I've had a surprisingly good time in these Games. I haven't met a single tribute since… well, the first day. I only know the manner in which one of the fallen have died, though I can imagine how the others went. I've almost made the top half in this year's Games, and I've barely lifted a finger.
Now then, if I could just find a squirrel or something, I'd be set. I have my knife, makeshift bow staff, even a blowgun. Shouldn't be that hard. To kill something so small, I think. I have to find it first.
Aran Quade, Age 17, District 6
District Six Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
Malaya doesn't trust Devon. I get that, considering that we just found her today, but I see no reason to go so far as to assume she'd kill us. Dev reminds me of someone I knew once. She has the same kind spirit, that instinct to help others that doesn't come naturally to most people in this country. The only difference is that she's alive, and Jetta's dead.
I'd never say I knew my deceased Partner all that well. I had seen her before, might even have been able to place her face if you told me her name, but I never really knew her before we were both Reaped into the Hunger Games.
Besides, who would I be to orphan a three-year-old, or let someone I care about do it? Perhaps it would have been simpler to just let her walk away, but I don't want to make Malaya mad, not after what we've been through these past few days. I also don't want to lose any Sponsors we might have. If we had two confrontations without death, the Capitol wouldn't likely be happy with us.
I just worry about the next person who crosses our path.
If Jetta were alive, would I go ahead and shoot her in the throat? Probably not, though heaven knows the Capitol loves it when District pairs turn on each other. That seldom happens, however, unless of course the pair makes it to the Final Two. Still though, at what point will Malaya and I have to kill in order to progress? Will it be tomorrow, tonight? Or will it be in several days, when we're close enough to the end to taste Victory?
No, I wouldn't have killed Jetta. But would I have tried to kill Malaya, even after talking to her the night of the Interviews, had she chosen to stay with the Careers?
Placings!
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
16th: Jetta Carter, Age 17, District Six Female
Kills!
Marcus Caelum: 1 (Kenzi Williams, D7F)
Cassia Lyra Maurise: 2 (Thorn Ashbury, D11M; Sparky Montgomery, D13M)
Mason Lepodolite: 3 (Jetta Carter, D6F; Tulle Salane, D8F; Keola Foeba, D12F)
Esmeralda "Mera" Annalise Dawn: 2 (Soot Maloy, D12M; Rebelle Sunflower Rine, D13F)
Darius Line: 1 (Harvest Miller, D9F)
Other: 2 (Marcus Caelum, D1M (Sepsis); Denny Rico, D10M (Jaguar))
Alliances!
Malaran and Devon: Malaya (1), Devon (5) and Aran (6)
Careers: Mason (2), Cassia (2) and Esmeralda (4)
Fragmented: Infiniti (3) and Cheyenne (10)
Brains and Brawn: Blue (4) and Henry (8)
Loners!
Cordin (3)
Darius (5)
Logan (7)
Thanatos (9)
Willow (11)
Questions!
Thoughts on this format?
Would you have preferred something else with this chapter?
Thoughts on the future?
If you could change one thing in this story's past, what would it be? (for the sake of myself improving, thank you)
Until the next sunrise (in the Arena),
Lord Z
