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The president drummed her nails on a screen. "The ones I detest are still alive."

Rick scowled. "You complain about that in every Games, and each turned out fine. This year is no different. What makes you think they are so dangerous? Besides, viewers love them. I can't kill them without an uproar."

"That was your mistake," she snapped. "You make the wrong people loveable. It is not just the Capitol viewers we must consider..."


When Percy met the eyes of the blonde from Luke's district, his mind blanked. He had no idea how to react. Every part of her during training and the interview had screamed danger, and if she was the mastermind behind Luke's betrayal...

He noticed that while her hands were quite casually at her hips, one rested on a dagger in a sheath, both of which had to be from the Cornucopia.

Yeah, he didn't want to be near her.

Her eyes did a swift scan of him, pausing briefly at the sword and knife at his belt. Then she marched away, going into the denser copse of trees that separated forest from meadow.

She looked fearless and way too competent to be from the textile district, but she was also too smart to even engage with him. This girl was truly dangerous.

The Gamemakers were no doubt upset that the encounter was so anticlimactic. Percy was wondering what kind of commercial break they'd added — blue cookies, perhaps? — when he saw a lion slinking through the meadows ahead.

It had every appearance of a normal animal save its fur that shined like gold — metallic gold.

There was a fraction of a second to decide: run for it, or warn the girl who might kill him?

Turns out he didn't need to do the latter. The girl had noticed it already, and she ducked behind a willow tree and peeked around it.

The mutt was stalking towards her barely four yards away. She breathed fast, eyes flicking around the area as she calculated the best escape route, but she wouldn't make it. And all at once he remembered that her name was Annabeth.

"HEY!" Percy shouted.

Both she and the lion turned to stare, and yeah, he did not think this through.

Now the beast was coming at him. He ducked behind a tree five inches in diameter as if it could conceal him. Annabeth used the time to sling her jacket over a branch and haul herself up.

The mutt lunged around his tree, and he darted away. They circled each other, and Percy started to think of better last words than screaming.

Then a piece of bread plopped in front of it, courtesy of Annabeth. The lion sniffed it suspiciously.

In that brief moment, Percy ripped open his backpack and threw a ham sandwich as far as he could, and the mutt chased after it.

He grabbed a branch and heaved himself onto it. At least his pre-Games training hadn't been for nothing.

The lion bounded back with mayo all over its face. He'd barely made it to a higher section before its claws sunk into the branch.

Percy drew his sword and slashed at its paws, but lo and behold, its fur acted as armour. But to his relief, the mutt's strength gave out and it fell back down. The Capitol had made it unable to climb.

Now it tore at the base of his tree, claws shredding through the bark like it was paper. He swore so loudly that a Gamemaker probably had to turn down the volume.

Annabeth shouted, "Could you hit its mouth from there? With a knife or something?"

Piper would have said yes instantly. He was a decent pitcher, but knives were different, and the one he had was for close-combat. Plus, he doubted the lion would sit quietly while he chucked sharp objects at it.

His tree was weakening, so Annabeth struck the muttation with a flying stick and it changed to hers instead. She took his silence as a, No, I can't throw for schist. "Do you have more meat?"

He sheathed his sword and raked through his disorganized pack. "One sandwich!"

Annabeth re-balanced herself on the thin branches as the trunk began to bend. "Catch this, okay?" She'd pulled a small object out of her bag, and when he nodded, she hurled it at him.

But her willow broke in two, and her throw went wide as she toppled to the ground. She scrambled into the upper part of the tree, and the lion snapped through the branches with its teeth and claws, crunching its way to her.

"OVER HERE!" Percy hollered. He let his hunting knife fly at its half-open mouth, but it hit the shoulder and glanced off in a shower of gold sparks.

But he got its attention. As Annabeth untangled herself, he took the ham from the sandwich and waved it around like a death wish. "You want it? Do you want it?"

It roared and leapt up, coming way too close to biting off his hand.

He took out his sword and swung it around as threateningly as he could. "I'll stab you if you come up!" He looked at Annabeth. "What did you throw?"

Poison! she mouthed, likely to not call attention to herself.

"Do you have more?"

She shook her head helplessly. He was glad she didn't take the opportunity to leave him and run, but he didn't want her to die, and especially not in front of him.

It was impossible for Annabeth to get around to retrieve the poison. Now was the time for his decision.

He ripped off a small piece of ham and chucked it to the side, then leapt off and scooped up the thing she'd thrown — a stinger wrapped in cloth.

Now it was Annabeth's time to be a distraction, and she yelled furiously and lobbed a thermos at it.

It clanged off the golden fur, and the mutt whirled and lunged, only to get whapped in the snout with a branch she'd been holding back.

Percy shoved the stringer into the slice of ham and flung his medkit.

Yet the lion didn't turn, probably tired of the back-and-forth. Even his heavy thermos yielded the same result. Annabeth edged around the fallen willow, putting it between her and the lion. Her dagger shook in her hand.

Then the lion vaulted over to her.

She screamed and sprinted to the side just as it landed, and she bolted in his direction. She sped right past him shrieking "THROW IT THROW IT THROW IT!"

Percy sent the meat into its open maw like a bullet.

It slowed barely two yards from him, confused that it tasted food before it even caught them. He took off after Annabeth, and they zigzagged through the line of trees along the meadow.

"Boost me!" she ordered.

He let her stand on his knee and lifted her so she could scramble onto a high branch. He hoisted himself after her right before the lion launched itself at his legs and took one of his shoes.

It returned to clawing at the bark, but slower. Was the poison working? Tiredness seemed more likely. The stinger must have gone straight down its throat without piercing anything.

He thought Annabeth was out of plans, but she absolutely wasn't. "Have you got any rope?" she asked, searching through her pack for ideas.

"Yeah," he said, bringing out several loops of nylon cord he'd intended to make a net with.

She grabbed it. "Get ready to stab its mouth."

He nodded readily. She dangled the end of the rope, teasingly wiggling it back and forth.

The mutt sprung up to bite it. She yanked the rope away and he plunged his sword down the lion's throat.

Unfortunately, when the lion slid down, one of its claws sliced open his inner forearm.

Percy stayed motionless, breathing hard and scared to move as agony raced to his shoulder. The lion yowled on the ground until it stilled, and his sword slipped through his fingers and stuck into the dirt, blood dripping onto it.

His entire hand was shining with crimson, and he panicked. "Oh my god oh my god —"

Annabeth lifted his arm and laid it on her lap. It took her some time to peel back the strips of his jacket sleeve, and only then did he dare to look at it again.

He'd seen worse from watching the previous Games, but it was different when it was so close. And his own.

Blood was spilling everywhere, and she searched through her backpack. She ripped apart a clean T-shirt and mopped up some of the blood before pressing the clean pieces to the wound. Then she bound it with bandages without missing a beat.

She was done so fast that his mom probably hadn't seen anything serious, but he could feel the blood coming out of him.

"Am I going to die?" he asked frantically. He couldn't tell if his sudden urge to faint was out of blood loss or fear for his life.

"No," she said, but her face had turned grey as if she were the one injured.

And Percy suddenly realized that they were practically strangers. "Annabeth, you don't have to help me."

"You saved my life," she said, like it was already settled, and she wiped at the red on her hands. "The acid rain is coming soon. Tributes too, most likely."

Percy had been focused on the lion and then his injury, and now he remembered why he'd wanted to leave the forest in the first place. "Yeah, let's go."

She hopped down first and caught him when he followed and nearly keeled over from dizziness.

She retrieved his ripped leather boot and hurriedly gathered the stuff they'd flung about. The lion had a lot of meat, so she had him stand guard while she skinned parts of it. Percy tried not to retch as he started to understand why Piper had wanted to go vegetarian once.

And just like that, they were a team, moving through the meadows together as if they'd planned to from the start.

He didn't think about how only nine tributes remained, or how no one had ever made an ally this late in the game without seeing them die.

• • •

Travis's worst mistake was taking the first opportunity he got.

Getting rid of one of the strongest tributes would be great for his odds. He just didn't take into account how it was one of the strongest tributes.

He loaded a poisoned dart — thanks, sponsors — and scoped the area with the binoculars he'd gotten ages ago from the Cornucopia.

The forest had finally been completely destroyed.

It might be days before he saw anyone, but it was sure to happen. The desert was definitely going down next, and at least one person would cut through the burned forest to escape from the desert to the meadows, where he hid among the grass.

And hopefully, they'd see the silver parachute he'd planted.

He had actually planned to hide in the destroyed forest, but the Gamemakers didn't seem to like that. A bunch of raccoons had come, trying to take his stuff. He guessed that there weren't enough cameras in that area.

The Gamemakers sure liked to mix it up. The meadows frosted over at night, but the days were hot like the desert. It was really uncomfortable.

Travis munched on a chunk of bread stuffed with cheese and gulped down some lukewarm water.

No one was around, and he reviewed his limited knowledge of human anatomy, trying to figure out the best places to shoot a dart.

The neck was a given. Same with the inner arms and upper legs — anywhere he could easily feel a pulse.

He was glad he'd taken the blowgun. At first he thought he'd abandon it soon, but he quickly got the hang of it. It was engineered magnificently. Despite it being only two feet long, a forceful blow was enough to send darts a clear hundred metres. And if he tilted it higher, they could go extremely far.

Moonlight glinted off steel, and he looked up to find someone running with a spear in her hand.

Travis readied his blowgun, following the girl from Two barrelling across the field. And she did notice the parachute, but to his dismay, she scooped it up without slowing.

The neck was too hard to hit at this speed. He hesitated and made a split-second decision. He aimed for the spot in her side that he'd stabbed earlier in the Games.

He knew he'd hit his mark when she came to a stop and looked around wildly.

To his frustration she'd raised an arm to protect her neck. Travis sniped at her wrist, but it struck her elbow. Then she ripped out both darts and came sprinting right for him.

He cursed and reloaded, but she'd whipped her leather jacket around to block his shots.

She was getting much too close and he didn't dare turn his back, so Travis abandoned all stealth. He rose and yanked out his poison-coated dagger.

"Hey, you're not Prissy!" she yelled, tossing her jacket aside. "You stole my stuff TWICE?"

She held up her spear, and there was no way she'd miss at this distance. No matter which way he feinted or dodged, she could adjust her aim the instant she released it.

When all else failed, he fell to trickery. Travis swung his dagger as if to throw it but didn't let go.

Her gaze followed the phantom trajectory, and he sprinted to meet her. If she had the longer weapon, he could stand a chance if he got in close.

He made a slash at her neck, but she slammed her weapon onto his, pressing down until he had to drop it, nearly impaling his foot. She struck him with the shaft, forcing him back.

When Travis fell, he knew he was done for. The poison wasn't working fast enough. His lungs struggled for air as she planted her knee on his chest.

"You've ruined my chances of going home," she said, voice catching. "I might as well do the same."

He grasped her spear just before the point hit his chest.

"That won't work, punk," she growled, breathing hard. Lined with green veins, her spasming hand twisted the base of her spear. Red electricity crackled around the tip.

He waited to be shocked numb — or even to death — but the current travelled to his ring instead, making it burn orange as it charred his skin.

The Career's jaw dropped. "How —?"

Travis let out a battle cry and shoved the spear aside. He lunged and slapped his hand to her face.

She dropped her weapon and bellowed in pain as his ring burned her eye. Soon he'd blinded the other one too.

Then she punched him in the kidney. When he collapsed, she seized his collar and slugged him across the nose. His head snapped back and pain burst in his face as he realized he'd broken something. Blood ran past his mouth, and his ears rung.

She grabbed for her knife, and she really shouldn't have been surprised when she came up empty once again.

He drove the blade into her chest until the cannon boomed. Then he sat back, exhausted and terrified. The Career had been gripping his shoulder, and he quickly shook her off.

Travis had nearly died.

Blood trickled down his throat from his nose, and that shook him from his stupor. He tilted his head forward and tried to wipe his face with the end of his shirt. But whenever he so much as touched his nose, it flared with agony and made a horrifying crackling sound.

To distract himself, he checked over the Career. The poison had long spread past her shoulder and definitely to her heart. She had an inhuman amount of strength to keep fighting while the poison weakened her. Anyone smaller wouldn't have been able to take him down like that.

Travis carefully took off his stained shirt and wiped his red hands with it before dropping it on her, covering the knife. He put a new shirt on and left the body.

He found his original dagger and winced. The ring had severely burned his finger, making the rest of it numb. He was afraid to take it off lest some flesh come with it, so he swallowed a few antibiotics and bandaged the whole thing.

"Thanks, Connor," he said, loud enough for the microphones to hear. "Your token saved my life."

He was too shaken to continue using the blowgun, so he took the spear and made camp in a small ditch he'd come across earlier.

The anthem played, and the sky showed the girl from 1, and then the one from 2 that he'd gotten rid of.

The guilt was rising again, and he pushed it down. Of course, he'd paid close attention to every interview, only ignoring their names, so he knew how much this girl had wanted to make her father proud.

It made no difference. He couldn't think that way if he wanted to survive. The Games were no place to be selfless, and no one good ever won.

His whole body hurt and he wanted to go home. There were still seven tributes to outlast. That was, what, three or four more days? Surely he could do it.

Please let him make it.