NAILAH NEBIT- Soleil Kingston

It was her. I'd thought for sure it was Gigi and it was just me left with three Careers. I'd thought there was no hope, and yet somehow something in me had ignited and I'd been working for hours on my next desperate plan to stay alive just one more day. If the Gamemakers took away the part of the jungle that sheltered me, I would become the jungle myself.


Totsuki Sugihara, District Two mentor

Both by mutts. Hadn't had that happen since I started mentoring. Kind of a funny coincidence, since the career breakup and mutts were the two leading causes of death for careers, provided they didn't lose access to their supplies. It just seemed so senseless. I guess that must be how outlier mentors feel about their Tributes' deaths. Just... senseless.


District Two

After the usual swearing of revenge against anyone involved in the deaths of their Tributes- in this case, Anthony for abandoning Nero- Two settled back into more practical preparations for winning instead of indulging vendettas. The Nebits spoke less about their heritage after losing Nailah, emphasizing the history or culture when they did, instead of the martial aspect. Sometimes warriors should be honored, not emulated.


Dionysus Bacchus, District Two male (18)

"No way. Nailah? So it's you, me, Anthony and Soleil?" I mused to Gigi.

"I guess we should fight him sometime," she said. "Hopefully after he gets Soleil." Soleil was something we hadn't spoken much about. Gigi never liked to look at me when we did. Soleil was the last outlier and I supposed Gigi felt some sympathy, if not loyalty, for her. She knew what I'd do if we saw Soleil and she regretted it, as well as regretting that she knew it was wrong but didn't have the ability or the willingness to say we shouldn't do it.

"Let's give him a day or two to hopefully, you know," I said. "Hold down the fort for a minute, will you? I'll be right back."

It was always awkward trying to find a distance that seemed appropriate without getting out of each other's sight when we had to take care of business. The worst part was having to watch without, you know, watching. Luckily there were scattered patches of grass short enough that we could see each other's heads without seeing below the waist.

I about jumped out of my skin when I saw a tiny glitter near the ground. The number one rule of camouflage identification in the Academy was that if something glittered, it wasn't organic. Almost as soon as I saw it, quick enough that I didn't sound the alarm for Gigi, I saw it was a container lying abandoned on the ground. I picked it up and brushed some dirt off of it. What in the world? It was a flask.

"Someone's close by," I said as I stomped back into camp. "We gotta do something."

"Maybe someone left it here a long time ago," Gigi said. I would have believed her except for the panic that was suddenly in her eyes.

"Did you know about this or something?" I asked. It didn't make any sense. Why would Gigi not at least pick it up and add it to our supplies? I knew she was lying but couldn't figure out any possible reason for it.

Gigi took in a quick breath and tried to land on something to say. She wavered where she stood and then realized I wouldn't let up and seemed to sag.

"I did something stupid," she said.

"What? What are you even talking about?" I asked, so confused I couldn't even think to be upset.

"Someone sent that to me," she said.

"An empty flask?" I asked.

"It wasn't empty," Gigi said. She looked up and smiled like she'd just had her heart broken and was trying to be brave. "It was full of alcohol. I was supposed to give it to you. Then I was supposed to kill you when you were too drunk to fight back."

"But... you didn't?" I asked stupidly.

"I should have," Gigi said, her voice thin and rising with each sentence. "That's why I said it was stupid. I poured it out. I shouldn't have done it. I don't know why I did. It was emotional and stupid. All my life I've been tough and cold and for no reason at all, when it would cost me my life I decided to ruin it all."

"You were too scared?" I asked, still putting the pieces together.

"I didn't want to kill you," Gigi said. "Not that way. It was before the two Victor thing so I knew it had to be you or me. It was just... the alcohol. I guess I'd seen too many people like that. But that's not a good enough reason for what I did. What does it matter how someone dies, as long as they're dead? I guess it was that you were making it. You'd given it up and you were winning. I didn't want that to be why you died. I didn't want people to say in the end you were just a drunk."

My hand shook around the bottle. "How... why?" I groped for words. It didn't make sense. People didn't do that for people. I'd had friends back in One. I'd even had what I thought of as best friends. But it just wasn't possible in Two for someone to risk their life for someone else. And for someone they thought of as an enemy? I couldn't imagine it.

"I don't know either. I was sleep-deprived, I was malnourished, I was under insane stress... I made a bad decision," Gigi said. She didn't say she was happy about it, but I noticed she didn't say she regretted it.

"That was... really dumb," I agreed. "But wow you got lucky, because I'm dumb, too. I guess we made two bad decisions that cancelled out." I let the flask drop from my fingers. We didn't have much chance of getting out of here together. Anthony was out there somewhere and Soleil didn't survive this long by playing badly. But somewhere along the line we'd both decided that was something worth fighting for. "Let's get them out of the way and get ourselves home."


Anthony Morgan, District Four male (18)

Careers didn't learn first aid. First aid meant you were planning to get injured and that meant you sucked. But what you learned in your home, no one else had to know about. I was sure I wasn't the only Career who snuck in a few first aid lessons. Know who really sucks? People who die of treatable wounds because 'real warriors don't do first aid'.

I winced a little as the chemicals in my purified water stung just a bit on my wounded hand. I flushed it a few more times to get out any last bits of dirt before I set in on the really painful part. I knew by now the Capitol had easier ways to dress wounds than old-fashioned antiseptic. They just used that in the Aren for better television. Who doesn't want to see a big, strong Career whimper when he smears stingy goop like rattlesnake venom all over his hand?

After catching my breath, I started with the new skin. The first aid kit we'd carried with us wasn't extensive but new skin was a lot simpler than it sounded. It was essentially a bottle of uncolored nail polish- I'd actually used nail polish at home when I practiced. It sealed the wound so dirt and contaminants couldn't get in and gave the body time to heal without having to fight off a million infections. I painted it over all my exposed flesh and tried to hold my shaking hand still as it dried. It looked very metal, I had to admit- having strips of raw flesh visible all over my fingers and palm like some horror movie villain. It was awkward trying not to move my hand too much afterward, since it would crack the paint, but in just a day or two real new skin would start to form.

The needle and thread took me a long time to take out. I didn't know why the needle had to be so big. Was a medical needle really supposed to be that big? And would it have killed them to include some numbing cream? No, then it wouldn't be a good show, would it? I clumsily threaded the needle and held it over my skin for a minute. Just a few stitches. Maybe I can get it closed with just five or six...

My skin puckered around the needle as I tried to push it in and hesitated. Can I just stab it through real quick? It doesn't matter if I do long-term damage. They can fix that in the Capitol. I just need to get it closed.

I clenched my jaw and thrust. My instincts jammed my muscles and I pulled the needle away at the last second. I sat dumbly prodding for a minute, surprised at how much force it takes to break skin. I tried and failed again before I thought of something that might help. This really isn't good for me, I thought as I tightly tied a strip of fabric around my forearm. I should do this right. Well I can't, and good enough is better than nothing.

With the tourniquet in place my arm throbbed dully. It gave me what I needed to finally act, since the longer I left it on there the more damage it would do, and I didn't think I could tie it again if I failed the first time. No one told you how much it hurt to twist a tourniquet tight enough to work. I took in a sobbing breath as I pushed the needle through and tried to just turn off my brain as the skin bent more and more until it finally penetrated. Then I focused on clenching my teeth and my own heaving whimpers as the needle slowly dragged through flesh. I'd thought it would be easier once I broke the skin. I didn't think about how ever centimeter traveled was breaking new flesh.

I looked down dumbly at the crooked, seeping stitch in my wrist. Four more...