Author's Note

I do not own the Hunger Games.


The platforms rose slowly from the ground. Some of the tributes wobbled slightly, holding their arms out to keep their balance. Others were crouched down, their hands splayed against the ring of their platform to steady them. They blinked in the pale light as they took their first look at the arena.

The taste of salt was in the air. A thin fog hung over them. Thirty metres away at the edge of the sand trees lined the shore.

They were stood off the shore of a beach in a wide semi-circle, their pedestals fifteen feet from the sand. Supplies were scattered across the beach, a handful of bread loaves, a sheet of plastic, several canteens of water, a coil of rope, a few silver packets, a roll of wire. Further up the beach was the cornucopia, large and golden, with a wide entrance facing towards them. Closer to it were backpacks, bigger the closer they were. Inside silver weapons glinted in the light, and further back stood larger backpacks and enormous wooden crates. Atop it was a large screen displaying the number sixty.

"Welcome, tributes, to the Ninety Fourth Hunger Games!" came the voice of Elysium Buxom, the arena announcer. "In the cornucopia you will find all the supplies you could desire. If you wish to fight for them of course. May the odds be ever in your favour!"

He couldn't see her.

The semi-circle sort of curved gently around the beach, not so much that they were in a circle, but enough that she had to be on the entirely opposite side to him and maybe slightly further round, one of five or six tributes he couldn't see.

He forced his heart to beat quieter.

She could care for herself.

She had cared for herself for nearly two years.

She could care for herself.

She was sure he was worrying. She couldn't see him, which hadn't been the plan, but she could sense him. He was on the last pedestal at the other side, with Azrayk and the Career she couldn't see. They would have to run for the trees once they grabbed supplies and meet up there. Maybe twelve feet to her right was the boy from Eleven, and past him the girl from Eleven, who was the last in line. To her left was the boy from Four, who was staring fixedly at the cornucopia. Past him was the girl from Nine, Eleven's ally, and then the boy from Seven, with the boy from Two next to him and the Bad Vibes boy from Twelve past her. She couldn't quite see enough to see who was past him, but suspected it was the girl from Eight by the blonde hair. The next tribute was shorter, which meant it was probably one of the tributes from Three, since she couldn't sense Nathaniel. He was too new and far away.

He had to be right round the other side.

The clock ticked down to thirty seconds.

His was the last pedestal in line, lucky him, though it wasn't any closer to the beach. To his right was the girl from Two – a Career, just his luck, they'd have done that deliberately – and past her was Azrayk, who had shot him one unnerved look and was now scanning the other tributes. To Azrayk's right was the boy from Three, followed by the boy from One, and past that they were a little too far off for him to tell Districts.

The clock ticked down to fifteen seconds.

She could see a slingshot on a crate a little way away from the cornucopia. That was theirs, his most likely. She steadied herself on the pedestal. Now was not her time.

The clock ticked down to ten seconds.

There were a few knives glinting in the sand a short distance from the cornucopia, and better weapons even closer, large spears and shining broadswords. He'd have preferred a slingshot, but all it took to kill someone was to swing one of those, and he had the strength to more than do that. A spear then, and one of the larger backpacks. Maybe a canteen of water too, if he could grab one as he fled.

The clock ticked down to five seconds.

The boy from Four was eyeing her as though trying to decide whether or not he should be afraid of her. He should, but he didn't know that.

The gong rang.