Guys, I don't know anymore. Life's crazy, I guess, but I haven't updated in EIGHT MONTHS. I have a novel of my own in progress that I hope to have published before I graduate, and I've lost a lot of motivation to write this, which is sad, seeing as how I currently have the fate of 15 tributes left undecided. Well, four of them remain undecided to me, but you get the idea. I will put up a poll on my profile to decide the fate of this story, and I will do my best to follow whatever you guys (if there are any of you left XD) decide.

Anyway…

Reviews!

Clis2339: I can understand wanting more death, seeing as how the Games are progressing but none of the tributes are any closer to Victory. I promise though, death shall reign in the Arena again, and soon. I have each day carefully planned until the Final Four, making deathless days such as 4, 5 and 7, necessary for character development. Thanks for the review!

dreams and desperation: I'm glad you think so! Thanks for the review!

I'd like to note that this starts at 2200 on Day Seven. It will not linger on Day Seven, but I'm saying it now to avoid confusion.


Darius Line, Age 17, District 5

District Five Male, Sixth Quarter Quell


As the death recap lights the sky, nobody in the Arena is surprised when the words Day Seven: No Deaths shine over the night. The seal of this wretched country reappears for a moment, before fading into the darkness. The anthem's absence leaves the jungle strangely quiet, though it doesn't take too long for the sounds of chirping and buzzing to force their way back into my head. Right as I think I've drowned them out, they return.

It occurs to me that I've managed to survive precisely six and a half days in the Arena. Of course, progress here isn't determined by time, but rather by how many tributes remain. The first few Hunger Games never lasted more than a few hours. This year, more than half of us are left.

I suspect the Gamemakers will do something soon to speed things up a little. They must bow to the Capitol's wishes, of course, and if they're getting bored, the Games need to get interesting. Whether that be mutts, floods, the explosion of a volcano, it can't be too far off. I suspect there'll be at least one death tomorrow, maybe two. That will be the most in a single day since the Bloodbath.

As long as it isn't me. I think tiredly, Or Devon. I'd rather have someone in this darned Arena who won't kill me on sight for at least a few more days. Top Ten, maybe?

I don't spare my District Partner much thought. I'm far too tired now, and my body cries for sleep. I haven't done much of anything since Day One physically, but I'm always so tired. The hunger probably has something to do with it.

It must be well past midnight before sleep finally manages to overtake me.

The dreams that flood my rest are the same as always: visions of lava, trees, terror. Screams. Whatever trauma I've experienced in the Arena up to this point, I see again on the nightly. Faces flash past, but they seldom remain long. Most of them are of no consequence any more, glowing apparitions in the sky. The nightmare's quickly cut short, however.

My eyes fly open, pain ripping into my chest. My vision is impeded by a large figure towering over me, the first light of morning creating a curtain of shadow. I look up, groggily, as the boy from Two rears back for a punch.

"How good of you to wake up, Five!" He grins, baring his teeth in a wolfish snarl. I involuntarily shrink back, my mind hyperaware as knowledge of Death's swift hand approaching encroaches upon it. His fist smashes into my face, but I barely feel it.

Crimson, sticky blood coats the very tip of his sword, and my eyes wander downward, toward the numb cold I now feel below my collarbone. A small incision, about an inch and a half wide, allows blood to roll out of my veins and through my Arena-worn shirt, and panic grips my heart. The older boy laughs, and I catch sight of his District Partner a couple paces behind him, rolling her eyes. I catch her eye and she shrugs her shoulders apologetically, but I see the grin threatening to break out.

I search frantically for a way out, and I realize that they haven't removed my club from where it sits next to me. Puzzled, I wonder for a moment before rolling over it, my fingers wrapping around the thinner bit of the shaft that has become my handle. I stand, whirling around, pain fading in my chest. I stumble, then, as I catch sight of a sword darting for my abdomen.


Mason Lepodolite, Age 18, District 2

District Two Male, Sixth Quarter Quell


I'm caught by surprise as the Five boy rolls away. The emotion quickly wears off, however, replaced by annoyance. How dare this boy even consider escaping me, a Career? I'm delighted, however, when he stands, spinning to face me with a snarl on his face. I lunge, the tip of Cassia's sword hungry for the boy's insides.

My blow is deflected to my right, and I barely have time to duck as Five's club comes screaming toward my head. I jump back after the branch whistles past my head, a soft breeze touching my face, and I raise the sword, my stance ready. Oh, this is going to be fun.

He wields his stick with both hands, fear and anger and desperation reflecting in his eyes. I laugh as he stumbles back, blood quickly soaking his shirt. I hope I didn't hit anything vital.

The tip of my sword strikes out again, and though I anticipate the counterblow, I allow Five to bat my sword away, then watch as he crashes through the air in a heavy overhand blow. I roll toward him, blade carefully held before me. I hear him curse, and he steps back again. I come out of the summersault, falling on my feet and leaping. The boy's momentum carries him forward as I soar over his shoulder. His neck, exposed to me, gives me an idea.

I bring my sword up, remembering a move Rocky Malfe performed two years ago. His sword cut cleanly through a girl's neck while she was off-balance. I feel the blade connect, but the ripping sensation is quickly replaced with panic as the cut halts, throwing me off-balance. My momentum yanks Five back, my interrupted trajectory making my tumble to the ground. I land on my back, my head striking rather hard. My vision goes red as the corpse lands on top of me, head striking my nose.

When my sight clears, I groan, moving my head to the side as Five's blood pools onto my neck and chest. I catch sight of a boot, and I look up to Cassia's face, a sneer molding her expression.

"Really, Mason dear. You've already killed the kid. Don't humiliate him further."

I glare at her, slipping my arms between my chest and belly, and the corpse of the deceased tribute. I grunt as I shove, the body floating easily a meter and a half off the ground.

Cassia screams as blood splatters her face, and I sneer as she stomps off. I look down at the mangled remains of the Five boy. Blood soaks the black stone, and the dull ring of a cannon breaks the still air.

I cross my forearms, raising my right in Victory and lowering my left to the boy, to Death. A salute to the fallen, something few actually have the honor to give once in the Arena. I wouldn't let Cass see, of course. She'd think the boy, a mere Five, too far below our station.

But oh, that fight, however short, was glorious.


Cordin Bolt, Age 16, District 3

District Three Male, Sixth Quarter Quell


I was on my way to the river when the cannon went off this morning. I jumped, of course, as I'm sure the other thirteen survivors did. It was a good twenty minutes, however, by the time the hovercraft drifted away, tribute safely locked away until the end of the Games. Or the Final Ten, when the tributes from Districts no longer vying for the crown are taken home. At current, that's just Twelve and Thirteen, though One, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten and Eleven could have been eliminated now. I suppose we'll see tonight.

Now, however, in my little grove overlooking the sea, I'm not sure I really care who died. I mean, they were all going to die anyway, right? The less I have to face, the better. I haven't even seen anyone since my run-in with the Careers. Nearly half of us are gone, and I'm sitting pretty. Why should I care who dies? The Games aren't about morality; that gets you killed.

A wall of water shoots up over the side of the cliff. Sea spray flecks my clothes, and I have a sudden burst of panic. I watch as the wall falls down toward my camp, and I quickly snatch my bag from where it sits against my climbing tree. I can barely glance around before the ocean slams into me.

For a moment, I stay where I am, my feet firmly planted, my back pressed against the strange tree wall. Panic grips me as I feel the wave attempt to pry me off, but the sensation quickly dissipates. The water falls to my ankles, then quickly flows out, back into the ocean.

I'm left gasping, but I don't give myself time to recover. I have no reason to believe that that was natural, not without having seen the water break against the cliff face first. No, I need to get out of here, before the Gamemakers decide they need to try again.

I climb the tree as quick as I can, but that's only so fast, weighed down as I am. The water soaked cleanly through my clothes and bag, and I'm sure that I now carry several dozens of kilograms of saltwater, but I manage to break the top. I don't take the time to check my surroundings, as I normally do, instead climbing halfway down and allowing myself to drop the rest of the way. I crash to the earth, but I quickly stand, breaking into a run as another wave crests the cliff.

A great series of cracks break the air, and I hesitate, looking back. The blue, crystalline wall somehow manages to rise above the trees, thousands upon thousands of liters swallowing my grove in a tempest. The trees themselves are ripped into the ocean by the torrent, and I start as I realize that none of them have roots holding them in place. The sound of stone giving way accompanies the screams of the fallen trees, and I stare, dumbfounded, as the very ground I've stood on the past couple days gives way, sliding loudly into the sea.

It's all over quickly, a massive, steep slope all that's left of my old camp. I glance around to the darkness of the trees; foreboding, unfamiliar. I'll have to be alert, watching late into the night for intruders. No place in the Arena is safe for tributes. I feel for my neck, where the night vision glasses hang.

They're not there.

I panic, feeling everywhere. Nothing. I quickly drop the bag from my shoulders, ripping it open. Nothing. I upend the bag, spilling all my prizes. Axe. Water bottle. That's it. Nothing. My best chance at avoiding the others, gone. All that's left to me is a way to confront them and live long enough to be entertaining. Almost a sign from the accursed maniacs who orchestrate this Game.

They've taken my home, my best chance of survival. How can I win? How can I trust this place and its horrors?

The answer to that is evident; I can't.


Cassia Lyra Maurise, Age 18, District 2

District Two Female, Sixth Quarter Quell


Not gonna lie, I had really hoped Mason would bite it today.

Don't get me wrong, I would really rather not have to deal with the moody princess from Four for the rest of the Games, but I'm already sick of both of them and we're not even halfway to the finish line.

Mason keeps bringing up his victory over the Five boy, pushing the fact that it's his fourth kill in the Arena and that that puts him even higher up on the kills list. It doesn't matter how many times I remind him that none of his kills were particularly difficult or noteworthy, but he continues to wear his pride on his chest.

It was almost enough to get me to stomp after Mera when we returned to camp this morning. Almost.

Now I'm stuck here, rolling my eyes and trying to not kill my District Partner while the girl from Four gets to blissfully hunt down the others. I doubt she'll find anyone though; I was surprised we had found Five this morning.

"You know what I just realized?" He asks suddenly, looking up at me from across the dead fireplace. I look up slowly, before he continues, "All of them had been girls, up until today. This was my first real fight with a guy."

I want to say something along the lines of define a real fight, but I bite my tongue. It pains me, but all I do is nod nonchalantly. My fingers itch around my sword's handle, and I imagine driving it through his face. The image calms me slightly.

"You know, there are still more guys left than girls. But I'm not sure many of them would put up a fight… Maybe Four? Or Six? I definitely want to kill Nine, but I suspect I won't get the opportunity." He sighs, looking out into the trees.

I cock my head. "Why not?" I ask.

He shrugs. "The Gamemakers know I'd love to take him, and so they won't give him to me until the end. Somehow, I doubt we'll be the Final Two." He looks at me grimly. "And, of course, I have a hard time believing it won't be you or Mera vying for the crown with me." He looks back down as I stiffen, thinking quickly.

I can't let my guard down. He's thinking up something, and if I'm not ready, my journey could end soon.


Logan Woodson, Age 16, District 7

District Seven Male, Sixth Quarter Quell


Things have definitely been quiet since my run-in with the Career girls three days ago, and I'm not sure whether that's good or bad. Not that I hate sitting up in a tree peacefully, but I don't think I'm going to get much more time to enjoy this. The Gamemakers have ways of spicing things up, after all.

Honestly, however, the Arena could almost pass for home. The sweet smell of damp trees and earth, the way this whole jungle lives and breathes. If it wasn't for the terror or the volcano or the smell of the sea or the constant, wet darkness. Okay, maybe I was reaching super far; this place is nothing like District Seven. I can almost imagine going back though; only half the field needs to die now.

Only half. At the current rate, the Games will last another week.


Devon Cynthia Rose, Age 17, District 5

District Five Female, Sixth Quarter Quell


I don't think Malaya nor I slept last night, probably for the same reason. I was supposed to take first watch, and while Aran promptly passed out, every glance I shot at Malaya earned a slight shift and her fingers tightening around her javelin. I know Aran was trying to be nice yesterday, didn't want to see anyone die, but Malaya was built, conditioned for this. I swear she stared at me during her watch.

Now, though, as we wait for the recap of today's one death, she seems at peace leaning into Aran's shoulder. I go ignored several feet in front of them, as they talk about home and what they'd do in another life. They'll go far, I know, if only because I know the Capitol likes tragic love stories. I, on the other hand, am expendable. It's only a matter of time before they decide I'm not worth the effort, and throw me to the wolves.

I am almost jealous of how at ease they are in the other's presence, as though they haven't another care in the world. I suppose that, apart from staying alive, they really don't. Niether of them has another person they care about in the Arena.

And I suppose I don't either.

I'm not sure how to react as the face of Darius Line appears in the sky above, his face taught with lines of anger. There's a fire in his eyes caught even in the photo they took of him before we ever left home. Home.

"Devon?" I hear Aran call from behind me, and I turn. "Are you okay?"

Of course he'd be the one to ask if I'm okay, the only one who'd actually care. I try not to look at Malaya, whom I imagine to be glaring, as I say "I guess. I never knew him before, but we had connections you'd think were too much of a coincidence to be chance." It was true. We had both been negatively affected by our Head Peacekeeper, and were perhaps here because of him. I'm sure he's sitting with his buddies, glad to be rid of a child who never deserved such a fate.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, hopefully quiet enough that the cameras can't hear it but loud enough for my poor Partner to hear from wherever it is he's found himself. Then, louder, "I'll be fine."


Deaths!

15th Place: Darius Line, Age 17, District Five Male

Nearly Decapitated by Mason Lepodolite, District Two Male

Time in Arena: 6 Days, 20 Hours, 33 Minutes, 49 Seconds

I'm not sure how I had originally planned Darius to go. I knew he'd be a stronger tribute, killing a couple before going out in a duel. However, I know that I thought he'd last longer. Nobody was originally going to die today, but I was impelled to increase the pace of the Games, if only because of my update speed. Originally, Days Four, Five, Seven and Eight were going to be deathless, and I almost killed three today. I'm sorry a tribute like you fell so soon, Darius, but look at it this way: you lasted to Day Eight.


Again, I'll be putting a poll on my profile. Please voice your opinion!

Also, I don't think I'll be doing the daily recaps anymore. They're too much hassle and take forever and a half to write.


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

15th: Darius Line, Age 17, District Five Male


Kills!

Marcus Caelum: 1 (Kenzi Williams, D7F)

Cassia Lyra Maurise: 2 (Thorn Ashbury, D11M; Sparky Montgomery, D13M)

Mason Lepodolite: 4 (Darius Line, D5M; 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)

Logan (7)

Thanatos (9)

Willow (11)


Questions!

I'm sorry, I wrote this late into the night and I just want to upload it. Thoughts?