Day two, evening. Some overlap with the events of last chapter.

SHARIF NAFTI, DISTRICT EIGHT MALE

I don't know how long I've been huddled in this tiny room that reeks of shit, but I feel like it's been an eternity. Weeks. Realistically, it's more along the lines of hours rather than days, but time passes strangely in the arena. My overnight truce with Loren flew past, and yet the hours since I ran from her when I heard approaching footsteps feel longer than the days spent in the Capitol.

Was I wrong to run?

No. My own survival comes first. We had to assume it was the Careers making their way through the arena, and I wasn't going to risk being spotted. If Loren took too long to grab her things and get out after me, so be it. We weren't allies or district partners or anything related.

But I haven't heard a cannon since then.

I try not to think too hard about the awful smell in this tiny stone room as I remember the faint screams I heard echoing through the arena not too long after I left Loren behind. I know they found her. There's no way they didn't. And yet... no cannon yet.

Did she run? Escape?

When no resounding boom immediately sounded, I was afraid she might have sent them after me as some sort of twisted plea deal. But I haven't heard footsteps pass this way, even though I ducked into the first door I could find after I left the servants' quarters.

My mind keeps drifting to dark places. Did they torture her? Take her with them to come up with some gruesome entertainment for her demise? Leave her for dead?

I hope Loren managed to run away, but I know that is far too optimistic. This is no fairytale, no happy endings. And honestly, if I was thinking logically I should tell myself it's a good thing they got her, no matter the method. If Loren's dead, it means I'm one step closer to getting home.

But there's no cannon. And I'm scared for what that means. What if she's bait? What if it's only been a few tortured minutes since I left her behind and I've been dragging out the time sitting in this room? What if they've tracked me and are waiting right outside the door until I venture out, thinking the coast is clear? What if they plan to use Loren to lure me out of hiding?

Selfishly, tactically, that's why I'm still in this foul-smelling room. I don't want to be here, but it's safe. If I wait here until a cannon fires, maybe that offers me some degree of immunity towards whatever happened after I left that room.

Does that make me a bad person?

I'm in the Hunger Games. I think I can be a horrible person and get a pass for at least a few days, since I'm expected to kill for my survival. But is it better to be horrible and win, or be good and die?

Depends on the way you die, I suppose. If being a good person gets me a horrible death- like whatever Loren's probably suffering- I'd rather kill and win to avoid it. But if I can get a relatively easy way out, something quick and not too painful, maybe sticking true to my morals is the safer option.

Does that make me a coward?

Which is braver, dying as yourself or living with the person you become?

I don't like either option, honestly.

Maybe being true to myself is just doing nothing. That's what I'm good at. Sitting back and letting life happen to me.

Fuck, I feel like total shit. I'm horrible for abandoning Loren, aren't I? She reached out to me, gave me food when I had nothing and companionship when we could have killed each other. And I left her to the mercy of the Careers. It's not like she had a chance of winning, really, she's young and kind and couldn't hurt a fly. And on some level I wanted to protect her, and I failed.

That's me. I don't do anything. What else could I have possibly done? If there's nothing I can do, it's perfectly fine to do nothing at all. This is no place for heroes.

But some part of me nags. What are the chances of me surviving? Are my odds any better than Loren's? If our places were switched, I have no doubt she'd try to help me. I talked to her for one night, but I'm sure of that much.

I stretch and move towards the door. Is this a stupid move? Probably.

I should just stay in this stinky room and do nothing for as long as possible. That's safe. That's fine.

No. This once, repay a kindness. If I find Loren, I'll help her. I'll do something.

A cannon fires. Fuck.

I softly open the door, remembering at the last second my paranoid theory about being ambushed. I flinch, but nothing happens. The corridor is empty, the only movement the flickering torchlight and shadows.

I creep down the hall back to the door I came from, and gently push that open.

I poke my head into the room full of cots, grimacing at the thought of seeing a dead body.

The first thing that catches my eye is the huge smear of blood on the cot closest to the door. I sigh. It has to be Loren's—her food and parachute lie abandoned on the other end of the room.

But there's no body to be found. I see a trail of bloody footprints and drip marks leading towards the other door, and I sink to my knees as I imagine the scenario that led to this.

Nothing I can do about it now. Loren's gone.

LOREN ASOU, DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE

I keep one hand out in front of me and the other clamped across the gash in my belly. The fiery pain in my shoulder burns with every step and my vision pulsates, threatening to black out with every step I take.

I sob as I walk, hoping I won't trip again on the stone stairs. I don't know where I am, I can barely see through the tears and the pain, I'm just blindly stumbling. I found the stairs, not long after I managed to pull myself to my feet and drag my injured body out of the room the Careers found me in. I hope they didn't find Sharif. I told them I was alone, hoping they wouldn't notice as he fled the room. I hope he's all right.

I'm not.

"Help… please!" I gasp as I fumble my way up another step. I'm climbing up now, although I have no clue how many stairs I've climbed at this point. It's just step after step. I don't know where I'm going I can't see where I'm going, all I can do is use my good arm to guide myself along the wall and hope to end up somewhere safe. Maybe I have sponsors still, maybe I'll find someone who can save me.

I don't know how long I laid in the room, consumed by the piercing agony. I don't know how long it took to crawl out and find the staircase. I don't know how long it took to summon the energy to climb each stair. Each step takes so much out of me. I'm still bleeding.

How much blood is in the human body? I read it at training, I know it.

How much blood can a person lose? I can't remember that either.

I can't remember much.

I'd like a snack, really. Like from the bakery at home, or one of my mom's homemade fruit crumbles. Or even from the feast the victors got for me and Kepler…

I'm so hungry. If I pretend the pain in my stomach is from hunger, does that help?

I try to climb another stair and start crying afresh, the hot tears adding another sensation to my body. It's like I'm trying to send the anguish from my wounds through my eyes to try and relieve the pain, to no avail.

How could they do this? How could they look at me and want to hurt me? How could they?

I'm not angry, really, just confused.

I suddenly become aware of myself crying, but it sounds like I'm far away. It reminds me of the way Neon sounded yesterday. Yesterday?

I try to take another step, but I fall flat on my stomach. I scream with the hurt, as my stabbed shoulder crumples and drives my arm into the hole in my gut.

I'm going to die, aren't I?

I heard another cannon, I think, a little bit ago. I thought it was my own, but that was silly. I'm not a ghost. If I were, it wouldn't hurt so much.

My death is still to come.

There's no sponsor, no magic cure. This is it— just like Neon and Everlyn, I'm about to die.

I pull myself forward, striving towards some unknown goal. I don't know where I'm going, but I don't want to stop moving. If I stop, I give up. I don't want to give up. It hurts more if I stop. If I think about it.

There's no step right in front of me, and I'm inching forward rather than up a staircase. Have I found a door? An exit?

I don't know. My vision's fading. Am I imagining it, or do I hurt less?

Hurt less… that'd be nice.

I don't want my family to see me like this. I don't want people to see me hurting.

The thought of my family crying is worse than dying, I think. Beckett and Cai? Crying? I can hardly picture it. That makes it worse. So much worse.

I let myself roll over onto my back. A break. I need a break from moving. From hurting. From feeling.

I can't take a deep breath, but I'd like to.

I want to breathe.

The tears still flow, but now they feel more cooling on my cheeks as they run down the sides of my face, through my hair, and onto the floor. They feel cleaner. Like I'm running out of pain to put into them.

"Loren!" A voice gasps, and I try to respond but I don't get any words out. "Loren, it's me, Kepler!"

He's from home.

There's a thud right next to my head. Knees. He's kneeling. "What happened? Did you look for me? You almost made it into the chapel room, Loren, what happened—oh, God."

What's he talking about?

"Loren, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I never should have left you. I shouldn't have— oh. Forgive me." I feel pressure on my arms, face, body. Hands. He's checking wounds. No point.

"For what?" I manage to croak out. Does he have food? A blanket? A way home?

"Come here, I'm here. I'm here." Kepler drags me halfway into his lap, and I grunt in discomfort as my neck hangs at an uncomfortable angle.

"Kep-" I whisper, trying to open my eyes. They're already open but I can't see anything. A fuzzy black field twitches to the pace of my heart.

"Loren… I'm here."

That's nice of him. I feel a slow dripping on my face. Tears. He's crying?

My body shifts slightly as he rocks me back and forth.

At least I'm not alone.

I'm not alone.

I'm-

SHELBY LEONE, DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE

The second cannon of the day fires, and I cringe. If the first cannon wasn't Loren's, that one certainly was.

Eliana and Caelle shoot venomous glares towards me, and I pretend not to notice.

It's been so easy to pretend until now.

"Great, a kill that's not ours," Eliana mutters, rolling her eyes. She's angry about not being able to hunt and I know she blames our early return to camp on me.

Andros, shockingly, chides her. "It's one less tribute alive. We're trained to win, not trained to take joy in murder. Unless you took a class at the academy that I missed out on."

She makes a face at him, but turns away to lounge against the boulder that serves as the Cornucopia.

Andros… acting almost kind and diplomatic? I'm literally shocked. He turns to me and nods, and I shakily nod in return. He told me when we first got back that he was proud of me, like he was my dad teaching me how to fucking fish or something.

I bet he only sees me as a 'worthy opponent' now. But am I? Like, I stabbed a girl and then puked about it. Not exactly warrior material.

Not like Eliana Bash-Your-Head-In Schaefer, who I'm now concerned will kill me in my sleep for ruining her hunt. Caelle's bossy ass is half the nuisance when compared to this new development.

"So… who do you think the other cannon could have been?" Cyrus asks, and I can hear the strain in his cheery tone. Ugh, he's such a fucking geek here, trying to be all chummy and kumbaya. It's sweet in a fucked up way.

Caelle shrugs. "We'll find out tonight in the sky."

I wrinkle my nose and feel the sore bruising in my face. "Personally, I hope it's Althea from Three, for breaking my damn nose!" That gets a chuckle from the group, and a genuine laugh from Cyrus, although I feel ill after speaking up. Who am I to wish death on someone?

I have absolutely never felt anything like this before. I volunteered on a whim, training was fun if a little too structured, interviews were fantastic, and then yesterday hit like a hurricane.

Until I watched my allies kill the others in the bloodbath, I'd never realized how… real this was. I've watched it every single year on television, seen people die, knew the occasional tribute from Four who didn't come home… and it never clicked. It was a game show. And I love games. But not like this.

I thought killing would be, like, bad, but manageable. A nightmare or an unfortunate one-night-stand that was easily brushed off and forgotten. A new experience. Or I'd just manage to avoid doing it entirely.

But the way Loren screamed…

I force down the bile that threatens to come up.

I think this is what people call regret.

Cyrus sees something in my face and comes over to me, rubbing my back gently. "You good?"

"No, but what else is new? How does it feel to be the only person here who hasn't killed someone?"

Cyrus winces. "I mean… it feels pretty good, honestly, if your looks are anything to go by."

"Hey, don't insult my looks! Even with a broken nose, I'm clearly still-" I drop to a whisper so Eliana doesn't have anything else to take offense to "- the best looking one here!" Cyrus laughs again, and his mirth even brings a smile to my face. "Come on, Cy, is that pity laughter?"

"Of course not, even with a broken nose and kill to your name you're funny!" he protests.

"Whatever."

"On a serious note- maybe if you don't think about it so much, it'll affect you less. Distract yourself, think about other things. Don't stop moving. It helps- it might help, anyway," my friend says conspiratorially. I nod. For the innocent member of the party, that's not a bad tip.

"Hey, can we let the sponsors know we're ready for dinner? I'm starved and I could use another picnic!" I blurt out across the courtyard to the others. The mere thought of eating makes me feel woozy and sick to my stomach, but I'm determined to chow the fuck down. Distract myself? Note taken. That much I can do. Shelby Leone is a master of coming up with things to do.

I make a mental note to scratch 'hunting' off that list. The next time they make me go out, I'm gonna fake an injury or get 'left behind' or 'lost' or any excuse to not run into another tribute.

Andros motions towards the sky. "Shelby, you ordered a meal?" A parachute descends with another decently sized wicker basket attached, and my allies shrug and begin to congregate.

"Next time, I say we decide as a group when to ask for food, but I don't mind this. Shelby, I think you earned it today," Caelle says. You know what? She still has a major stick up her ass, but now I'll take it over Eliana's bloodlust. If anyone had told me three days ago that Caelle wasn't my least favorite person here, I'd have laughed.

Andros pulls a whole bird, cooked golden-brown, out of the basket. "I think this is pheasant. Maybe grousling?" He follows it with a bowl of steaming roast potatoes and a loaf of brown bread. Against my stomach's wishes, my mouth starts to water.

We divvy up the bird and dish out the food. I take a small portion of the meat and a heavy helping of potatoes and retreat a little bit. This is as close to private time as we get. Eliana marches almost to our sleeping room to eat alone, Cyrus sits not too far from me, and Andros and Caelle sit together next to the rock.

I adjust and move closer to Cyrus.

"Those two sure are together a lot."

He glances over at his district partner and her sidekick. "I suppose you're right. But no more than us, really."

"Yeah, but we're fun. What do they even talk about? Flirt by describing proper combat technique? We spend nearly all of our group conversations going over alliance strategy."

Cyrus chuckles dryly, almost choking on a bite of food. "Who knows, honestly." We both fall silent and watch the other pair for a moment. Their heads are bent together and they're not touching their food yet, just talking quickly and quietly. "Looks important."

"Either they're planning to kill us all, or that's their pitiful version of foreplay."

"Wow, Shelby, that's interesting coming from you."

"What do you mean?"

"The kill us all part. That was definitely the most morbid thing I've ever heard you say."

I roll my eyes and toss a still-warm potato from hand to hand, toying with it instead of taking a bite. "It's the Games." I'm taking the advice he gave me- the less I think about Loren the better. Keep her screams out of my head. The guilt- that's what it is I'm feeling, guilt- out of my heart. If I can just push her away from my thoughts, maybe I'll go back to normal and this'll go back to feeling like an adventure.

"I guess you're not wrong. By the way, do you feel like this arena is really confusing?"

I nibble on the potato before answering. "I can see that. I didn't see a whole lot of it today, but the stairs are… disorienting. I feel like I get so turned around."

"Exactly! It's like it doesn't make sense. It's the damn staircases in every corner of the castle."

"They're everywhere!"

"That's why I think we haven't found a lot of tributes yet. Not because we haven't been looking or spending enough time hunting, but because not all parts of the arena join together. I think it's in different sections."

"Oh, I see. You're shifting the blame from my hunt-ending freak out to the arena? That's why we haven't been as successful as Caelle wants?"

He grins. "If the shoe fits, am I right? And besides, I don't think we need to single-handedly kill the rest of the arena. More than one cannon went off today- the others can manage on their own."

I smile and take a real bite of my dinner, my appetite returning a little more. "Thanks for making me feel better."

Cyrus shrugs. "I guess it's the least I can do."

CALANDRA BELMONT, DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE

Redmond and I step through the door to find ourselves in some sort of kitchen. "I like this a lot better than the big open room next door," I say. I'll take a small, busy kitchen room over a fancy hall or sitting room any day. This area almost reminds me of home. It's rustic and down-to-earth. It feels like my parents or Adalyna and her family would fit right in to this environment.

And yet, it doesn't quite feel safe. It's the most comfortable I've been since we set foot in the arena, and yet it feels wrong.

"Wow, check out the fireplace," Redmond whispers. I look over to see the charred logs in the hearth and the scorch marks that lick up onto the ceiling above and the table nearby. There's a pile of burnt food on the table as well. Ugh. It's ruined, turned to charcoal and ash, but earlier it could have been nutritious and lifesaving.

"What set that kind of huge fire?" I wonder aloud. Redmond shrugs and I sigh. "Let's hope we never have to find out."

"Do you think this is a good place to settle for the night? I'm exhausted." Redmond sits at the wide wooden table and rests his head in his hands. We basically haven't stopped moving since the middle of the night, and neither of us have gotten any real rest since before we entered the arena. Since leaving Kepler, we haven't run into anyone, despite changing locations several times throughout the day.

I glance outside through the nearby window. The sky is beginning to take on the hues of sunset, streaking the clouds with orange and purple. "I think it's good enough. Small, the room is more crowded, so it's easier to hide and avoid anyone. And I'm tired too. I think we both deserve sleep as soon as the anthem plays tonight."

I assume Redmond will be watching the sky to find out who died today. There have been two cannons- I think that means there's thirteen of us left. It terrifies me, the thought that nearly half of the vibrant souls that entered this place have died in a day and a half. I don't want to see the faces in the sky, it makes it all too real. I know if I'm reminded of the humanity of the other tributes, I'll fall apart.

I try not to think of Kepler and how we decided to leave him when he was probably the most scared he'd ever been.

Calandra, stop. I force myself to be stern. He killed someone. If I focus on that, the memory of Kepler as my friend and ally feels more distant. I can't see him the same way anymore.

"Before we figure out where to sleep, can we check the doors in here? I don't want any nasty surprises," Redmond says, glancing around the room. I nod, and we stand and look around. There's three doors: one, the way we came, that leads back to the great hall. The other two are unfamiliar.

"Wait," I say, "that door is right next to the window. Does that mean it leads… outside?" I rush over, but Redmond pulls me back.

"Stop! What if it takes us out into the courtyard where the bloodbath was? What if that's where the Careers are?"

I pull my hand away from the door's handle like it's white-hot before creeping over to the window and peeking out. "No, it's not the same. I don't see anyone." I tentatively open the door and we look outside.

The first thing I see is the wall—there's no way out, so we're still stuck in the same castle arena. No easy escape. But it's not the same courtyard as we saw yesterday. It's smaller, more private. And, as I look along the perimeter, this is the only way in or out. This feels like a secret haven. There's a small shack in one corner that looks like it could be for storing gardening equipment.

"Redmond, check it out!" I step forward onto the lush grass, grinning up at the blazing sky and setting sun. A light breeze touches my dark skin, and I smile properly. It's a beautiful night. I think I can see the stars coming out.

"Look, there's a pond!" Redmond rushes past me to examine a pool of water on the other side of the—I think of it as a garden, really.

"Water!" I follow him eagerly. We both look into the calm surface of the pool to find our faces mirrored back at us. I'm about to plunge my hand into the water when I hear a faint noise like the barking of dogs.

"What's that?" Redmond whispers, whipping around in terror. I grab his hand as the noise gets louder. We don't have anything to defend us. What is it? It doesn't sound human. It doesn't sound like a tribute.

The odd barking noise grows until it sounds like a whole pack of dogs, and I pinpoint rustling coming from the shed.

"Run!" I yelp, dragging Redmond after me back towards the kitchen.

A monster bursts from the shed with a roar, and it is clear it's the source of the strange animal sound. Redmond and I scream and I fall backwards in my haste to get away from the beast.

It's not a dog at all, but some strange animal I've never seen even in schoolbooks. It screams again, sounding more and more like a scream, and I freeze in place on the ground as it emerges fully from the shed. It's twice as tall as any person, and its head looks like that of a serpent. Its long neck twists and uncurls as it looks around the garden, and its huge, sinewy body is that of a massive spotted cat. I can see muscles rippling in its haunches.

It takes a step forward, and somewhere in my brain I notice that its feet are hooves, not paws. What kind of strange beast?

I reach out for Redmond's hand, but I can't feel him near me. The beast sees me move and screams its barking roar as it lunges forward, the rows of jagged teeth in its snaky mouth sparking fear into my heart.

"Calandra!" Redmond yells, and I see him closer to the kitchen door.

"Run!" I scream, tears coming to my eyes as I scramble away from the creature. If I die, so be it, but he can live! He can survive!

He furrows his brow and takes off the pouch on his belt.

"What are you doing, Redmond? Run! Get out of here!" The thing snaps its jaws two inches from my feet, closing its teeth on the air where I was seconds before.

Redmond throws the pouch before turning to flee. He's giving me time to run, too! We can both make it!

The monster snarls and whirls around at the soft smack of the pouch against its side. I manage to get to my feet, but now it's blocking my path to the door! I hop from foot to foot, trying to figure out a way around the animal, but it runs forward. Toward Redmond.

My district partner has his hand on the door to the kitchen when it strikes out and catches his other arm in its teeth. He screams as it rips him backwards, sending him flying, and I scream too.

Redmond lands almost at my feet, arm bloodied and bent, and he whimpers as he lies crumpled on the ground.

I try to haul him to his feet, but the thing comes at us again and I have to drop Redmond to scurry out of reach. It growls at me and then, before I can do anything, pounces and pins my ally to the ground. The serpentine head rears back and then plunges down, tearing out Redmond's throat in one swift bite.

His scream cuts off just as I open my mouth to sob.

The cannon booms, and I stand frozen in shock for a moment as the beast begins to rip my friend's body apart.

I have to get out of here.

I abandon Redmond and rush back through the door, not turning back to see if the thing is following me. I slam the door shut behind me and press my full weight against it, and then the tears start flowing.

14th: Loren Asou. Ollie, thank you for your submission.

13th: Redmond Alderidge. JAJ, thank you for your submission.

We are back in business, folks! It means a lot that y'all checked in on me over the last few weeks. Sorry for the wait, that's life, but as long as I don't die from coronavirus this story is gonna get finished. We have eight or so arena chapters left, and I intend to write them a lot faster than this one.

Another location introduced, as well as our first mutt! Say hello to the Questing Beast, adapted from Arthurian lore! I'm doing a lot of research for this story (although I won't use 95 percent of it) and having a great time reading up on this era and style.

Questions!

Who do you want to see/think will be in the top eight?

What do you think a good pet name for this mutt would be? Personally, I'm thinking 'Spot', but that feels a little boring.

Drop a review and let me know! I hope you all are safe, healthy, and anti-racist!