Day Two, morning.

KEPLER MALLIS, DISTRICT FIVE MALE

A dull thunk wakes me up, and I blink my eyes open. Father? Mother?

The red upholstery from the back of the couch greets my eyes, reminding me exactly where I am.

The castle. The Arena.

Aviva. The weight of the knife in my hand. The give of flesh against metal.

A chill runs down my spine and the nausea hits like a wave. For a split second, it was nothing more than a bad dream! I felt normal again, for just a moment! But, like a flood, it all comes pouring back, and I groan. Time in the arena moves like sludge. I've only been here a night, and it feels like a nightmarish lifetime. The future is blank—who knows how long I'll be stuck here? If I'll live or die?

I don't want to die. But I probably deserve to.

What made that noise? I remember the sound that woke me up, and twist around quickly. There's no one there, no monsters under the metaphorical bed. I force my shoulders to release a little bit of tension. I didn't sleep well.

There's… no one there. Calandra and Redmond are nowhere in sight.

I stand, stumbling forward on shaky legs. Where'd they go? Where are my allies? The couches are empty and there's no sign of them in the rest of the large sitting room. What happened? Where are they?

Sunlight is streaming in the window. It's morning for sure. Who knows how long I've been alone?

Did something get them? No, it can't be that. There were no cannons, and no sign of a fight. Besides, I'm untouched. I glance down at my hands, which are still trembling. They haven't stopped since… since… Aviva. The swollen fingers on my hand are a painful reminder.

I gulp down the rising bile in my mouth, feeling just how dry and scratchy my throat is. I haven't had anything to eat or drink in a day.

Why would they leave? Where would they go? Maybe they're looking for food or water? That would be good.

But why did I wake up alone? The answer dawns on me as I remember Calandra's blank eyes yesterday evening.

I'm a murderer. I don't deserve allies. I don't deserve forgiveness. I don't deserve friendship or assistance or peace or any of it. Nothing else makes sense for why Redmond and Calandra have vanished without a trace.

They abandoned me.

Forgive me.

My legs go wobbly and I collapse back onto the couch. Tears press at the corners of my eyes, and I hurriedly wipe my face with the edge of my sleeve. Alone. I'm alone. I'm alone in the arena and my allies left me behind because I'm a killer and I can't be trusted and they'd rather leave me to die than be around me any longer.

My body starts shaking again, trembling from head to toe so strongly that I can barely stand. I have to go. Have to find them. Have to beg for forgiveness and beg not to be left alone again. I'll stay awake, I'll be lookout all night long, anything to not be alone. I'm scared. I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared.

A choked sob tears out of my throat, and I can't help but whimper.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement outside the window. The new jolt of fear is enough to distract me from my predicament, and I move cautiously to the open arch. Outside, hanging on a nail above the window, is a parachute with a wicker basket attached.

A sponsor gift. I snatch the basket with my good hand and pull it inside, tearing the parachute in my haste. Inside there's a bottle of water, a pack of some sort of jerky, and a sleeve of crackers. Without thinking I open the water and chug, only slowing down when I've drank half the bottle. I need to save it as much as possible, ration food. I pull out two crackers and slowly eat them, feeling the water slosh in my belly, and put the rest of the food away.

As I slide the jerky into my pouch, my fingers brush against my token. I pull it out, the familiar embossed leather cover offering a tiny moment of comfort. I flip through the pages, tiny pasted-in diagrams of scientific phenomena and formulas familiar to my eyes. My fingers linger on the crucifix stamped onto the cover.

Forgive me, Father.

I have to keep moving. I have to find them. I have to.

I tuck my arms across my chest and start to leave the room, but I accidentally kick something across the floor. The knife.

It's still crusted with blood, and I want nothing more than to leave it behind. But I need something. Protection. Maybe it's fate that made me bring it with me.

I bend down and gingerly pick it up by the hilt, letting it dangle limply from my fingertips. I still don't want to get too close.

I exit the room and look around. I'm in some kind of hallway or corridor, and I can see a staircase at either end. I can't remember what way I entered the room, so I don't know which direction will take me somewhere familiar and which will take me somewhere unknown.

Nowhere is familiar here. Nothing is familiar or comforting anymore.

I drag my feet to the left, half-walking and half-shuffling down the hall. It feels like my body isn't my own anymore, like it's rebelling against me for what I've done. For the egregious sin I've committed.

Midway to the door, I cross in front of another door. Should I? I doubt Redmond and Calandra would have only moved one door down. Still, I don't want to risk passing over them. A good scientist explores thoroughly.

Does that mean I'm willing to risk stumbling upon someone who isn't my allies? Former allies? Do I want to find the pair from Eleven, anyway?

Every decision I make will have an effect. It will have consequences. I take a deep breath and open the door.

Rainbow light spills into the room in dazzling colors. Rows of benches faces the opposite wall, where a huge stained-glass window bears a colorful image of the seal of Panem. A half-circle banister placed around the window looks… like an altar.

It may bear the seal of Panem and have minimal decoration, but I know where I am.

This is a chapel.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

I take a few staggering steps towards the altar before I can do nothing more than sink to my knees in the colored light from the stained window. The knife drops from my hand and clatters to the floor behind me.

It feels like an omen, me stumbling into this place. Like a symbol. Like… fate, however much I've fought my father's teachings and dug myself into science. Like even the arena is telling me there's no escape from my actions, no course of action but repentance and then eternal judgment.

I slump forward, pressing my hands against the stone floor despite the pain in my two reset fingers, and feel the harsh tears drop from my eyes as my whole body gives in to the heaving sobs.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have killed another person. I have lied. I have been a coward. I have doubted. Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.

INAYA STRATTON, DISTRICT EIGHT FEMALE

"Malek? Malek, wake up!" I groan, nudging my ally with my foot. He mutters something, still half-asleep, and then blearily blinks his eyes and sits up. As he stretches, he grimaces, hand gingerly going to his right shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Ah. Yeah, fine. Sucks to sleep on stone, that's all."

I nod, feeling a similar soreness radiate up my back as I think about it. "At least it looks like you got some good sleep."

"Did you… not?"

I shake my head, trying to not move the rest of my body. "I just still hurt. A lot. And I'm hungry—my stomach kept me up for half the night growling, I'm surprised it didn't wake you up too— and I really have to pee. Sorry, I'm just complaining now."

Malek slowly gets to his feet and offers me the half-empty water bottle we've been sharing. "I think we have a right to complain, considering that we're in the damn Games. I can only offer you some water, but I think our joint discomfort is a pretty good sign we need to be on the move."

I take a gulp of water, wincing at the depletion of the bottle. "Sorry. Thirsty, too, I guess. And… unfortunately, I think you're right. We should move before something makes us move."

Malek shrugs as I hand the bottle back to him and drains it himself. "We'll just hope that we find some more supplies."

He grabs my hands and starts to slowly pull me to my feet. My stomach aches with a shallow pain, but it's not as bad as it was yesterday. You're a big girl, Inaya, you can do this.

"And you're on your feet? How are you feeling?" Malek asks, no doubt noticing the way I'm protectively leaning forward over my midsection. I make a face at him, and he smiles. "Okay, definitely better than yesterday if you have the spirit to tease!" He steps forward, but trips over a hole in the floor neither of us had previously noticed.

"What's that?" I can't lean down to get a good look, but it's almost a foot in diameter. It must have been just on the other side of Malek nearly the entire time we were in here, and neither of us were in a state to explore even this tiny room.

"I don't know." He bends over to inspect it more closely. Then he chuckles, and I give him a quizzical look. "Inaya, I think it might be the closest thing we have to a toilet."

"You're kidding. No way."

"I can step out of the room and give you some privacy?"

"Malek, you're joking, right? This is your idea of a prank?" We're both laughing, but he's laughing at me, not the situation. "You go first then!"

"I mean, okay. But I definitely want privacy!"

"Oh, so you are serious."

He shrugs. "Not many other options around, right?" With that, I cautiously leave the room so he can have the room alone. We take our turns, as appalled as I am, and when I step out of the tiny room I fake-gag at Malek. "I know. I wish I could wash my hands right now."

"Ugh, don't make me think about it. Where to now?"

He shrugs. "I don't know what to do at all. What else is there to do except explore and hope we don't run into anyone or anything?"

I sigh and gingerly fold my arms across my torso as we prepare to move. We move down the hallway until we reach a corner. There's a staircase, but the hall extends. "Can we not take the stairs? They feel riskier than the hallway somehow."

"Fine by me." We creep down the corridor until we come to a huge double door. "We don't want to go that way. That goes back to the bloodbath."

I blanch at the memory. The bloodbath… Rhea. It all feels like a horrible nightmare, already fuzzy and distant. I feel guilty that the thought of Rhea doesn't automatically bring tears to my eyes, but I remind myself that this is the Games. Malek told me probably a million times today that there was nothing we could do and we needed to focus on ourselves.

I'm not good at that. Focusing on myself. But he's right, I can't think about Rhea until I'm home again. Then I can mourn. Then I can grieve. Besides, if Malek can keep going, so can I. Or at least I can fake it.

We come to another door, and this time we decide to take it. We emerge into a huge room with a vaulting ceiling and high arched windows.

"Wow," I breathe, and Malek nods. "It almost looks like a throne room. Like a fairytale."

He points towards a raised platform with a chair sitting at the top. "I think you could be right, too."

I shiver, suddenly feeling vulnerable and open. "Can we keep moving? I don't want to stay here."

"Take your pick of doors."

Malek has a point. There's at least four doors, not counting the one we just came through. One for each of the corners on the right-hand side of the room, and two more in the middle of the left wall. I pick the one further away on the left and start limping towards it with Malek in tow.

We find ourselves in a kitchen that could easily be a bigger version of any classic farmhouse. There's wooden tables for food preparation, a fireplace, all manner of pots and pans… and food!

"There's food!" I rush towards the table in the back of the room. The simple offering of bread and fruit looks like a feast after a day with nothing to eat but fear. Malek overtakes me and is chomping into an apple as I reach the table, but I hesitate. "Is it safe?"

"I hope so," Malek says uneasily as he swallows a chunk of apple, "now that you mention it. But I'm willing to take the chance."

I rip a chunk of bread from a loaf and stuff it into my mouth. The sunlight entering the room from the window is warm and fresh, and this room feels… light. Safe, even. I relax for the first time since entering the arena.

Suddenly, a shadow obscures the window for a second and I turn around, aggravating my wound in the process. Luckily, it's just a parachute bearing a tiny basket, floating straight through the window. "Inaya, we have sponsors!" Malek cries.

"They have really good aim, too." He upturns the basket and a sheathed knife clatters out onto the wooden table.

"Oh," I breathe. The sight of a weapon chills my blood and brings me back to harsh reality. I'm not in a farmhouse kitchen. I'm in the Hunger Games. Every time I have a moment of relief, something reminds me of the truth. I resent that.

"Do you want to hang on to this?" Malek asks, offering me the knife. I shake my head reflexively, backing away from it. "Hey. It's okay. It's okay. I promise I won't hurt you with it." He slips the sheath into a loop on his belt. "This will be to protect both of us."

I nod, but the image of friendship we've built shatters in my mind. Malek is armed now. And in the Games, promises don't mean anything. Rhea abandoned me before the bloodbath even started.

There's no trust here.

A shadow moves in the corner of the room where the food is. "Did you see that?" I gasp, whirling to get a better look.

I see nothing, but a fire roars to life in the fireplace. Malek jumps back from the open flame. "What? What?"

"I saw… I don't know. Something moved in the corner. I didn't get a good look."

Malek wraps an arm around my shoulders, just like he did backstage at the interviews. "Maybe it was a Gamemaker mechanism. Something that started the fire."

I pull away from my ally. "I thought it was something alive."

He looks around the room, his face draining of color. "I don't see anything."

"Let's grab as much food as we can and get out of here, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan."

ELIANA SCHAEFER, DISTRICT ONE FEMALE

I follow Caelle and Shelby as they stride through the great hall where we found Timo and Gareth yesterday afternoon. It's a girls' day out hunting, even though we got a late start. Caelle suggested it this morning.

I'm getting tired of always listening to Caelle's ideas. It's not like she's done anything wrong, I'm just getting bored of taking orders. I'd prefer some personal time to work individually. I feel like I'll hunt better on my own than in a group, anyway. Here, with Shelby always whining and touching her broken nose and Caelle leading us wherever she feels, I feel like I'm on a school field trip.

The Games feel like my new calling, but my opportunities are being squandered.

Still, I'll wait and see how today goes. I could use some more kills. Caelle already said—so graciously—that she'd step back and let me and Shelby take our turns when we found other tributes.

That got on my nerves. I know my fight with Mary Sue definitely got the attention of the District One mentors and hopefully the sponsors too, but I need to outdo Caelle and Andros if I want my fair share of the attention. And it's a little insulting to be placed on the same level as Shelby. At least I've done something so far.

We go the same way we did yesterday when we chased Timo. It was my idea to explore from the bottom level up, starting where we were already familiar. No jumping from room to room haphazardly like yesterday.

"Is this a dungeon?" Shelby asks, wide eyed, as we enter the place where Timo died. There's only a bloodstain remaining where we left him yesterday, and I briefly wonder how the Gamemakers removed his body. Some secret technology or whatever.

There are cages along the walls with a hallway down the middle. "What else would it be besides a dungeon?" I roll my eyes at the girl from Four. She shrugs and raises her hand to her face to check her nose again.

"Anything else?" Caelle asks, as she carefully examines one row of cells. "Do you see any doors or passageways or anything?"

I check along the other side of the large room. "I don't see anything. These all look identical to me." Each of the compartments have manacles attached to the walls, but nothing else. They're all empty.

"Check all of them."

I roll my eyes, but the three of us split up, going into each room and looking carefully at the walls, floor, chains, anything that would give us any more information.

"I don't see anything new, Caelle." Shelby says, running the tip of her spear along the bars of one of the cells.

We move on, finding another staircase at the other end of the room. We head up, and open the next door right back into the great hall.

"We're… back." I say flatly.

"Just in the other corner of the room." Caelle confirms.

"Damn. I hate this arena, it feels like a haunted house. Or a maze," I groan.

Shelby shrugs unhappily, but that's nothing new. That's most of what she's done since the end of the bloodbath.

"Well, let's keep hunting on this floor."

"There's two doors across the room. We didn't check either yesterday, we went around the outer edge." I point out.

Caelle nods. "That works. Closest door first?" She frames it like a question, but it's an order.

I enter the room first, spear prepped. As we open one door, there's a creak from the other side of the room and I see another door close. "Tributes!" I shout, and Caelle and Shelby burst into the room behind me.

I don't see anyone, but it's clear people have been there. There are rows of cots, several of which have blankets disturbed on top of them. There's also the remnants of a sponsor parachute sitting on the floor.

"Search the room!" Now that's an order I'm more than happy to follow.

Shelby runs to the far end, Caelle starts overturning the nearest cots, and I jump over one cot to reach the sponsor parachute.

There's a wail, and I look up to see Shelby pulling a girl out from under the furthest cots. It's Loren, from Five. She bursts into tears as Shelby hauls her to a standing position and then tosses her down on the cot.

"There's no one else here!" she sobs, "I'm alone, it's just me!" I scoff. What's her game with that attitude? We found her.

"Well done Shelby!" Caelle congratulates her find. I nod too, jealous. Shelby looks at the younger girl uncertainly. "Shelby. Are you going to kill her or what?"

Shelby looks at Caelle with almost blank eyes. "What?"

"You found her. By all rights, she's your kill," Caelle explains it with an air of pointed venom in her voice.

Shelby lifts her spear and Loren starts begging for her life, too terrified to move. She's like a scared rabbit or something. "Um, Eliana, you can have this if you want it."

I'm tempted, and I step forward and aim my spear at the sobbing girl. She shrieks and tries to cower away from me, but there's nowhere for her to go. The three of us have her surrounded.

I glance at Shelby, who's looking down at the floor. "Actually," I decide, "Caelle's right. Shelby, she should be yours." It may mean I'm sacrificing another tally under my name, but I think it'll be worth it to watch Shelby do this. She needs to. Otherwise, she's alliance deadweight. And as much as Caelle is starting to get on my nerves, I don't plan on do anything dramatic with this group quite yet.

Caelle catches my eye and we share a smirk, which feels good.

"Please, please don't, please, let me live!" Loren screams, pleading with Shelby to spare her. She's stupid. If Shelby refuses, she's still going to die.

But Shelby raises her spear, closes her eyes, and plunges her spear into Loren's stomach. The girl's cries of anguish ring out, and redouble in pain when Shelby pulls the spear back out. Caelle nods, and I allow myself a small grin.

Then Shelby heaves and covers her mouth, running past us and through the door we came in before retching on the floor. Her vomiting is followed by crying of her own.

Caelle huffs. "After her. This one is dead soon anyway."

I roll my eyes, raise my own spear, and bring it down through Loren's shoulder for good measure. Maybe if I'm lucky, her kill will be credited to me after all.

Her cannon doesn't fire immediately, but there's no point giving it a second thought as we collect Shelby and sit her down in the great hall. Loren screams in pain from the other room, and I sigh.

The Games are my new calling, but these allies of mine… might be holding me back.

VALERIE WANG, DISTRICT TEN FEMALE

"I feel like shit," Althea moans as we walk along the wall.

"You sound like one of my little siblings," I tease, rolling my eyes at her constant complaints.

"I didn't know you had siblings, are they even allowed to say shit?"

"Two younger brothers and two little sisters. And no, at least not in public. It's just the whiny part I was talking about." I wince. I think Althea was joking or being sarcastic, and I responded completely seriously. Luckily, it doesn't seem to kill the mood.

"Ugh, well then thanks for treating me like a kid, mom!" she pouts, twisting from side to side as she speaks.

I roll my eyes at her petulance. "Your back's still sore?"

"Can you blame me? I slept sitting up against a stone wall. Outside."

"Can I help? I think I know a stretch that might work."

"Ugh, please."

I direct Althea to stand back to back with me, and then as I bend forward, she tips backwards and leans on my back. I reach up and grab her outstretched arms, pulling her into a deeper arch. I hear her spine pop a few times, and she yelps.

"Did that work?"

"Holy shit, yeah. Wow. My back hasn't cracked like that since I last went to my chiropractor!"

"You had a chiropractor?"

She gives me an odd look. "Yeah? What about it?"

"Nothing, nothing. You just don't hear about it very often. My mom visited one a few times, but a lot of my old friends hadn't even heard of one when I mentioned it."

Althea checks her nails absentmindedly before we resume walking along the wall. "No offense, but I'm surprised there are chiropractors in Ten."

I shrug. "None taken, it's not like Ten did great things for me. I've spent my whole life taking care of my siblings and living a lie. Besides, the chiropractor was basically just a perk that came with being related to the deputy mayor. Plenty of people in Ten are into holistic medicine and whatnot, but medical training is a little out of reach for most."

Althea nods, and she looks like she's listening to stories about an alien planet. I never thought I'd be dissing my home to a spoiled-rotten rich girl from Three, but so it goes, I suppose. Talking about Ten even feels foreign to me, in this arena. Everything I say about my family, everything Althea says about hers, every old memory that bubbles to the surface—it feels infinitely far away and unreachable. The only reality is the castle wall.

"Althea, how many times have we turned the corner?"

"I… have no clue, actually."

"I think we've just been going in circles." I peer over the wall to figure out what side of the building we're on, and find myself looking down at the courtyard. Two of the Careers are down there, throwing weapons around, and I quickly pull my head back. "The Careers are out. Two down there, three in the wind."

Althea's eyes widen. "I think we should find somewhere to hide. I don't think anyone would come up here at night, but it's way too open in the day. If they find us up here, we're royally fucked."

We hurry over to the tower, the tallest spire of the castle where we first emerged onto the upper wall. "Down a floor?" I ask.

"Duck through the first door we find. As little time in open spaces as possible."

I lead the way down the staircase and into a hallway on the upper floor of the castle. As we move inside the castle's walls, I think I hear the sound of crying. I don't know where it's coming from, can't pinpoint a voice, but it could be echoing from anywhere. From anyone. I could be imagining it.

"Door!" I call back to Althea, and she shrugs. Might as well pick this room.

We burst in, coming face to face with the tall boy from Twelve. Gareth.

"Wha-" I start to exclaim, but I'm cut off.

"Hey!" he shouts, surprised and angry. He holds up his fists, the look in his eyes half fear and half anger. I'm reminded of the charging bulls that sometimes injure ranch hands in Ten.

I hold my hands up. "We can leave! We're sorry! Didn't mean to startle you!" But when I turn to Althea, her short sword is raised defensively. "Althea, put it down. We don't have to fight."

"Everyone's a threat," she hisses back, "I just want to be prepared."

"Gareth, we'll go. We're sorry." I say, but he doesn't back down.

"I just want to live," he chokes out. I remember hazily that his ally died yesterday.

"We all do," Althea says coolly, "but only one of us does."

"But we don't have to fight today! Not right now!" I say. I step forward and hold out my hands to Gareth, an offering of peace. "We can go and hope we won't run into each other again."

"Not more kindness," Gareth mutters.

"What?"

"I got a second chance and I have to earn my way out of here. I have to take care of myself. There's not room for kindness anymore. There's not!" I see a switch flip behind Gareth's eyes, and the anger overtakes the fear. He charges forward, tackling me. I fly backward, no match for his body mass, and the back of my head slams into the stone wall. He stands up, panting, but I can't quite get back to my feet.

"Althea…" I groan.

She yells and charges forward with the sword. On her first swing, the steel edge bites into Gareth's shoulder, and he clenches his jaw. She flails, and her second swing misses as he easily steps out of range.

He doesn't have a weapon. He doesn't have a weapon! I try to tell Althea, but my head feels like it's about to explode.

I close my eyes against the pain and sudden awful brightness of the light from the window, covering my ears against the cries of Althea and Gareth.

They both scream at the same time, and then the boom of a cannon rattles my bones. "Althea!" I mumble, forcing my eyes back open.

She stands, breathing hard, looking down at Gareth's body. Her sword protrudes from his chest.

"Althea…"

She turns back to me, her blond hair sticking to her face with blood and sweat. "Val, are you all right?"

"My head fucking hurts."

She rushes over to me and kneels in front of me, pulling me to sit upright and I feel her fingers checking the back of my head.

"No blood, thankfully. Not that I can tell, anyway. Wearing your hair in a ponytail was probably smart."

"Gee, thanks." That gets a dry chuckle from Althea.

"C'mon, let's get you on your feet. There's a bed, you can lie down for a bit."

My head spins as she supports my weight and helps me stand. "I think I might have a concussion."

"No shit. Don't fall asleep on me."

"Now that you mention it… a nap sounds nice." I try to make it a joke, but I realize I'm not kidding. Shit.

CYRUS AUGUSTIN, DISTRICT TWO MALE

A cannon fires.

"Thank fuck, it sounds like the girls are getting shit done out there," Andros says grimly as he throws another knife at the makeshift target we've set up in the courtyard.

"Good for them," I mutter as I practice some sword drills. We got kind of a late start this morning, since Shelby fell asleep during the last watch of the night. Thankfully, nobody really got on her case about it. Personally, I'm glad for the extra hour or so. Yesterday was too fucking long.

I'm sure all the tributes who are hiding out there are glad for it too. As long as my allies are occupied or asleep, they're safe.

Except, I assume, whoever's cannon that was.

"Who do you think got that kill?" I ask Andros, engaging in what will hopefully be a fruitful conversation. I haven't talked to the guy from One much, and it's been awkward just the two of us. He seemed fine enough to stay back and work out with me, but this whole time he's been Caelle's right hand man. The unwritten rules of our alliance: Caelle and Andros make the decisions, me and Shelby stick together, and Eliana does whatever the hell she feels like apparently.

He shrugs. "As long as it was one of them, it's fine with me. Your friend Shelby could certainly use a kill, though."

I force out a chuckle, hoping Andros will think it's genuine. "You're right, it's her turn."

He gives me a pointed look. "You think you'll be ready to step up to the plate this afternoon or tomorrow?"

I gulp. "Of course, dude. Of course." If it's not someone threatening my life, I don't think I could raise a finger against another tribute. What would happen if my allies saw? If they recognized my hesitation?

Andros nods. "That's good. Maybe some good old fashioned training has done you a favor."

I grit my teeth. I have killed. I've taken down potentially the biggest threat to all our lives, and yet Andros is treating me like I need to be coddled.

"I promise, killing isn't all that bad," he continues, "you just… do it."

I'm fed up with this patronizing attitude. "Andros. Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"I killed Shark."

Andros's knife toss misses the entire target and hits the grass. "Come again?"

I grip the sword blade for strength, just in case this makes Andros turn on me. "During the bloodbath. I killed Shark. I already have a kill."

He turns to look at me slowly, and eventually… smiles? "I'm genuinely surprised, Cyrus. Well done." He turns back to his target.

"You aren't betrayed? You aren't mad that I lied?"

"Why would I be? Shark wasn't my friend. He was dangerous and unpredictable. Plus, it proves you have some mettle in you yet."

I let the sword point fall in relief. "That was my thought process! He was too big of a threat!"

"I do have to wonder why you lied." His gaze, stoic and pointed, bores into my eyes and pierces my soul.

"Shelby. I didn't want her to know I killed her district partner. Andros—promise you won't say anything?"

"Okay," he says simply before throwing another knife.

That's all there is? No burning secret? No sense of betrayal? Andros is so fucking confusing to me.

He throws the remaining three knives in his pouch before collecting his weapons and turning to me. "I think I'm getting sunburned from being out here. Would you like to take a break?"

And now he's asking my opinion on things. I shrug and let my sword fall to the patchy grass. "Works for me."

"Besides, half the reason I wanted to train was to get your spirits back up. But since you killed Shark, I find that less necessary."

I see it now. I've earned his respect. "Thanks. I guess?"

I may have killed Shark, but Andros is bold to assume that means I'll be any use hunting. Still, if I have this new semblance of courage, I can use it to my advantage. I can stay on everyone's good side, and hopefully avoid finding anyone while hunting as long as I can. And by the time it comes down to it… maybe I'll have talked myself into being able to kill again.

It'll be easier if someone attacks me first, I repeat to myself. If they're a threat, I can make myself do it. It's not so bad that way.

15th: Gareth Abrell. Dyl, thank you for your submission.

The Games continue! Lots happening, lots of arena exploration going on. I have a few more locations to introduce, but then I will post a map so y'all can connect all the dots!

It's Juneteenth (or at least it still is in my time zone)! Google it for your daily dose of African American history!

Several new SYOTs are open! Megan (Da Member Hogwarts 2.0), Sophia (nevergone4ever), and Austin (mangesboy01) all have stories up and running. Special shoutout to Megan since she was my very first real internet friend back in the day!

Questions:

If you could visit anywhere right now without worrying about the pandemic, where would you go?

Drop a review and let me know!