My eyes adjust to the bright morning sunshine as the platform settles into place and I feel the sea breeze ruffle my hair. To my right there is clear land across a few hundred yards leading to what looks like sharp cliff drop off similar to home. Beyond that I can see a bit of the water sparkling and dancing invitingly. Looking straight ahead past the Cornucopia the trees rise up in a wide arc all the way to the stream off to my right. A quick glance over my shoulder shows more clear land all the way to the lake, with more trees beyond. Far in the distance that way I can see large rocky cliffs that suggest this isn't an island, but a finger of land.

I check the tributes to either side of me: Demmy from Twelve and the boy from Three to my right, the girl from Seven and big Solphis Gunner past her on my left. I can see Citrine around that way next, and a few down Marcellus. Plenty of allies to watch my back. The ground in front is littered with supplies that grow in value closer to the Cornucopia. There's a knife about half-way between me and the horn that I'll have to grab just to deny anyone else. Leaning on the side of the horn are a pair of spears that look my length. My second target. I set my feet as the seconds count down and spring forwards as soon as the gong rings, letting the rush of adrenaline drive me faster.

I slow for a step to snatch the knife by the handle, then keep sprinting until I get to the spears, well ahead of anyone else around me. I toss the knife at my feet and grab my preferred weapon, turning to face out towards the rush of people, heart pounding.

I'd thought occasionally what it would be like to kill someone, usually after a particularly ferocious sparring match at training, wondering if it would feel any different to clubbing dead a fish, or spearing a skate in the shallows. Whether I would hesitate to strike a final blow knowing that my opponent was a live, thinking person not a dumb animal, or whether it would all happen on instinct.

It turns out to be quite easy when the alternative is my own death. Solphis Gunner, who seemed to dislike me during training, rushes at me holding a simple wooden club. I duck away from his blow, striking out with the spear and feel the edge slice cleanly across his side. He turns with a yell and swings again, and I reach up instinctively to catch the downswing of his arm on mine and ram the spear home through his neck. He makes a funny gulping moan and drops to his knees, slicing the palms of his hands as he tries to pull the sharp metal from his throat. I turn away as he topples forward into a pool of his own blood, bright red against the sandy soil and grab up the other spear to face anyone else that might challenge me.

Already I can see a lot of the fighting is done. At least two small figures are retreating at a run, heading past the lake that was behind me. To the left I can see the crumpled figure of the girl from Seven who was next to me; further around Marcellus is sparring easily with the scrawny boy from Eleven, turning away the knife stabs with little effort, his sword already bloody.

Seeing no more tributes this way I head around towards the mouth of the Cornucopia where there is more action. The boy from Twelve is screaming near a pile of tents, his right leg nearly off at the knee. Angelus shuts him up with a quick slash across the throat, ignoring the spray of blood that speckles his face.

Out further that way I see Maria, the friendly girl from Five scrambling to gather up an armful of supplies that she must have dropped. Before I can move Anita sprints towards her and runs her through with a single spear thrust. Maria convulses twice and hits the ground, the spear standing out of her back like a raised mast. Carla appears from further around, her sword bloody too, and Marcellus joins us as well looking amused.

"Little brat put up a fight," he says. "So two for me. You?"

"Two," Carla replies shortly. "Girl from Three, I didn't catch her name. And the twelve-year-old from Seven. Little runt tried to sneak up on me and knife me while I was busy with the girl," she adds defensively. From training I know that they prefer to take on the tougher targets at the bloodbath. More of a challenge.

"I got Twelve. The boy," Angelus says, pointing to the body nearby. "And we all saw you deal with Five. What about you pretty boy, did you get your hands dirty or did you just stand around gaping while we did all the work?"

Since I grabbed the other spear my weapon looks clean, and there's surprisingly little blood spatter on my front. "Boy from Six," I say as casually as possible. "I left my other spear in him."

Angelus scowls but Anita gives me a clap on the shoulder. Carla glances around and asks, "Where's Citrine?"

"I saw her around my way," I say, and we all hurry to the tail of the Cornucopia, where we find her groggily trying to stand. The right side of her face is already swelling and a cut above her ear is bleeding freely.

"District Ten," she says, slurring slightly around her swollen face. "Double teamed me. I turned to hit the boy and the girl whacked me with a club."

She winces as she tries to step forwards and raises the hem of her shorts to show a long, shallow gash along the side of her thigh. "Then he knifed me."

Carla grabs her arm to steady her and I take the other side. "There'll be something in the Cornucopia for that," Carla says. "After that, first priority. Ten dies. Slowly."

Citrine smiles weakly at that and leans on us both as she hobbles around to treat her wounds. I feel like we should be doing something more proactive, but I don't really want to speak up in case the others feel like I'm gloating for taking down the biggest target in the bloodbath. Marcellus saves me the effort by clearing his throat and announcing, "Ok once Citrine is settled let's start gathering up supplies. She can start sorting. We'll give it a few hours then start out south-west."

Angelus pouts again at being told what to do, but doesn't argue as we start collecting the spoils of our battle and preparing for war.

~xXx~

The anthem plays as we break through the trees to find a wide, sandy beach. We all pause to look up and confirm the count from before: girl from Three, girl from Five, boy from Six, both from Seven, girl from Nine and boys from Eleven and Twelve. None of us saw who got the girl from Nine, though I'd guess it was either Markus or the pair from Ten. Either way, the count is eight dead, a third of the field. A little low, but the arena isn't so big that we can't track them down.

We keep hiking down towards the sand, keeping a look out for any signs of passing tributes. Each of us has a light pack of supplies in case of emergency, but the plan at least for the first few days is to do loops out and back from the Cornucopia, staying in easy reach of our haul. We'll take turns guarding—Citrine has first watch since she wanted time to let her cuts close over—and see how many we can take out who are silly enough to stay close by.

I pause on the edge of the beach, fighting the urge to toss my backpack and clothes and dive straight into the welcoming waves. I can only imagine the reactions of the others if I ask to stop and paddle for a bit, and even suggesting trying some fishing will probably get me laughed at. Right now we have no shortage of food.

I content myself with a few deep breaths and a long look before following the rest as they keep on heading south down the grassy plain between the trees and the sand.

"See something?" Carla asks as I catch up.

"Fisherman's habit," I reply. "Checking the weather and the slope of the beach."

Angelus snorts. "Afraid of a little rain?" he asks derisively. "Scared of a bit of thunder and lightning?"

Anita, who knows a bit of my history grabs my arm before I can take a swing at him.

"You inland folks don't know what a coastal storm is like," she says bluntly. "I hope for all our sakes that you don't get to find out."

I pull free of her hold and shoot Angelus a quick glare. "Sky looks clear, at least for now."

We keep walking.

Marcellus turns us back a few hours after sunset. We cut back through the trees, the waxing moon bright enough through the branches to use as a guide. It's not quite bright enough to prevent Carla, in the lead from tripping and falling neck-deep into a stream. She splutters and gasps as Anita and I haul her out, but ends up laughing with the rest of us on the bank.

She confirms what I thought about the clothes when they dry out within an hour, and by about two in the morning we are back at the Cornucopia. Citrine uncurls herself from a comfortable pile of sleeping bags to say all was quiet while we were gone.

"I'll take first watch," Carla says ruefully, scraping some dried mud off the hem of her vest. "I'm still feeling pretty alert after my swim. I'll wake next in an hour."

I grab a sleeping bag and drag it on to a relatively flat bit of ground, tossing away a couple of small rocks. All the nervous energy that I started the day with seems to have faded, especially after the long hike, and I fall quickly and easily asleep dreaming of the moonlit ocean.

~xXx~

Something prods me in the ribs hard, and I instinctively grab it and twist, trying to pull whatever is at the other end to the ground. A male voice that is too deep to be Oris yelps and I come quickly alert.

Angelus glares at me, rubbing his hands where he tried to hang on to the spear haft he was poking me with. "Your watch pretty boy. Try not to fall asleep. Wake Marcellus when you're done. He's last."

I sit up, rubbing sleep out of my eyes as Angelus saunters off back to his bedroll. Yawning and stretching, I use my reclaimed spear to stand, wincing slightly at the ache in my legs. I'm fairly fit, but not used to running as far as we did last night in one go. I guess I'll have to get used to it.

I grab an apple out of our supply pile and munch on it while I watch the sun rise. It's bright and clear, but not quite the same as at home. Not quite as beautiful. There's no sign of red clouds either, which means we're clear from any storms at least until afternoon. The wind is faint and from the north-east, a whisper that tickles my hair. Perfect fishing weather.

Probably perfect hunting weather too. I spend my hour's watch working loose the knots in my legs and shoulders while seabirds fly overhead. Nothing else moves as the arena slowly comes to life. When I wake Marcellus, I'm not at all tired, and decide to wander over to the lake to refill a few of our water bottles.

I have my spear in hand, and strike out of habit when I see a fish just below the water's surface. It's about the size of my hand, with a zig-zag of red-gold and bronze scales and wickedly sharp teeth, though juicy enough looking for breakfast. I decide not to go swimming in any of the waterways I come across though. I've heard stories about flesh-eating fish that swarm a person and tear them to shreds. Even if they don't actually exist normally, it's exactly the sort of thing the Gamemakers would create.

Marcellus suggests not eating it when I get back, on the off-chance that it's poisonous. I pout jokingly and he reaches over to pat my head. "Wear it on that necklace of yours if it means so much to you."

I stick my tongue out at him and grab my share of the breakfast he has set out—dried crackers, some jerky, an energy bar and an apple each—and start eating. He does the same, watching off into the distance in each direction for a few minutes between mouthfuls.

As I finish the last of my allotted food he goes very still. "Wake the girls," he says softly, his eyes on a point to the south east. I follow his gaze and see a few whisps of morning fog. Except morning fog usually sits in a layer not a column, and isn't normally so gray.

I shake Anita, Carla and Citrine awake then repay Angelus by prodding him with the spear-butt, stepping away faster when he wakes so that he misses his grab. He glares at me until I point to the distant column of smoke. Without another word he rolls to his feet and grabs his sword.

"Who is staying?" he asks Marcellus once we are all standing. The boy from Two looks around the group, then nods at Citrine. "One more day?" he asks her and she nods resignedly.

The medicine from the first-aid kit seems to have sealed over the cuts but she is still limping slightly and her right eye is swollen half-shut. The rest of us load up with our small packs and weapons and head out and a gentle run.

I'm starting to wear out when Marcellus signals a halt. I try to stop from gasping too loudly as I catch my breath. Beside me Anita looks just as worn, worse even since she's smaller and had to run faster to keep up. We lost sight of the smoke as soon as we entered the trees, but I'm pretty sure we're still headed in the right direction. So is Marcellus, who appears to have appointed himself our leader, as he calls us all over to a huddle.

"I'd make it another two hundred yards to the fire. Now, there's no guarantee that whoever lit it is still there, so we are going to spread out. Angelus you take the left, Anita the right. Carla, you take little Finn here and go around the back. I'll give it twenty minutes and call the charge. Got it?"

We all nod and Carla and I hurry back through the trees, trying not to step on anything noisy as we make our way roughly around behind where our target should be. After a quarter hour she stops me and points me towards the right direction.

"I'll go a bit further round. Don't get lost."

I scowl a little at her babying, but let it go. It's not as annoying as Angelus trying to push me around.

While I wait, I check my legs and arms for leeches, another habit picked up living on the coast, and find one small one on the back of my calf. It's barely started gorging, so I just flick it off, stopping the blood with my finger until it clots. I'm still sitting down when I hear Marcellus yell and have to scramble to my feet, charging in towards the suspected camp site.

To my left I hear a terrified scream and I reach a small clearing in time to see Carla casually cutting down the boy from Nine as he runs before her. She quickly sticks her sword through his ribs to make sure of it and we immediately hear the answering cannon.

The small fire is still smouldering slightly, what looks like a rat skewered on a stick cooking above it. I guess the boy was so excited about catching something he could cook and eat that he forgot the fire would lead us to him. Angelus prods through his pack, a small satchel holding a box of matches, some wire and a flashlight.

He pockets the last and tosses the rest onto the fire, where it slowly catches and burns. We watch it for a minute, then Marcellus signals for us to start travelling and we begin the run back towards the Cornucopia.

~xXx~

Marcellus decides that it's my turn to stay back on guard while the rest of them go out in the afternoon. I'm fine with this, and build myself a comfortable pile to sit in the mouth of the Cornucopia while I wait. The others head off, leaving me in the sudden strange silence of loneliness.

It makes me wonder what it must be like to be one of the non-alliance tributes. After an hour by myself I'm already starting to feel a little anxious. There is no-one watching my back. If another tribute decides to come raid our supplies then unless I hear or see them they might kill me.

While I'm confident that I could take on most tributes one-on-one, even if they got the jump on me, I'm not so sure about Markus from Eight, or the pair from Ten. Then again, Citrine has sat here alone much longer than I have with half her vision gone and she was fine. If I say anything, then the others will treat me even more like a kid. Or worse, they'll decide I'm an inconvenience and take me out. I have to suffer in silence and keep myself alert.

As soon as I feel my mind start to wander off into distant thoughts I make myself get up and practice a spear or knife routine. As the sun starts to drop below the water out to the west I fix myself up dinner from the food crates. It's bland compared to what I was eating in the Capitol, and I pull a face as I force down another dry cracker, wishing I had some of the juicy roast meats or sweet deserts that were on offer in the Training Centre.

Almost as if I'd spoken out loud a silver parachute drops in front of me carrying a small bag of candied nuts. I grin at the sky. No matter how alone I feel someone does have my back.

I eat them slowly, making them last as the night sets in. I still get up to exercise a few times an hour so that I'll be ready to answer any surprise attacks. It also helps keep my head clear of unpleasant thoughts.

It's why I started training after all; it gave me something to do to keep my mind off reliving that awful storm and the deaths of my family. Now in addition my thoughts start wandering to the dead tributes in these Games. At the time I felt nothing from killing Solphis except relief at still being alive and a sort of burning thrill at having won the fight. As I think back now, I can feel the scrape of my spear-head hitting his spine, can see the fear and pain in his eyes as he claws at the metal, only hurting himself worse. A part of my brain asks what right did you have to kill that boy?

My immediate answer is that he was trying to kill me, and he was. So what is my excuse for the others? Friendly Maria who was brave enough to talk to me at the parade, and who giggled when I tied her up in training. I didn't flinch when my ally stuck a spear through her back. What about the boy from Nine? He wasn't trying to kill any of us. He was just trying to survive.

It makes me wonder whether my allies feel the same way. Angelus and Marcellus seem to find the killing amusing, and Carla already has three dead to her name. Clearly it doesn't bother any of them. But what about Anita? She's only ever been friendly to me, but she didn't hesitate at all to kill an unarmed girl. Will she do the same to me when the time comes?

I make myself get up and start another spear routine, stabbing high and low, twisting and cutting, imagining that the only things in my path are lifeless, faceless dummies. As I finish I catch a glimpse of movement in the trees near the cliff. I duck down low and settle behind a pile of crates.

If it's some sort of animal or muttation I'll have to fight it alone, though I doubt the Gamemakers would send anything nasty on the second day, especially since we are making an effort to keep things moving. More likely it's another tribute who has come to see if they can steal from out supplies. If they are alone and saw me flashing my spear around they probably won't try anything, but if it's the pair from Ten, who have a formal alliance together, I might be in trouble.

I don't know how long I sit waiting, my senses on full alert, thoughts trained only on being prepared for a sudden attack from any direction. Because of that I hear the distant footsteps from the north before I see the beam of light that marks the pack's return. If there was anyone hiding out, they'll have gone now that all six of us are back.

"No luck?" I ask, standing as they jog in to our camp, though I already know the answer from the lack of cannons.

Anita shakes her head no as she leans forward, hands on knees, trying to catch her breath from the long run. Marcellus coughs and spits, then clarifies, "We found a bit of gray cloth, probably torn of someone's vest about a mile out, but for all we know they left it fleeing the Cornucopia. Might be worth another sweep up that way tomorrow."

"Sounds good," I say, reaching for my sleeping bag. Already I can feel myself relaxing in their company. If someone attacks now I won't be our front line.

"Get some sleep," Marcellus says to all of us. "I'll take first watch. Whoever is last get everyone up at sunrise. We'll hunt early."

No one argues and I'm asleep as soon as I'm wrapped up.