A/N: It's been almost two years since I've updated this, which is insane. I've grown up a lot and experienced a lot of different stuff. However, I just bought the new prequel, and it made me nostalgic for this place and these stories. I've always felt terrible that I never finished this story, and I have such great plot ideas for it. So here's my attempt during quarantine to get it finished. The original games was supposed to be like 23 days, but I'm shortening it so I can get it all out. I doubt anyone is reading this but if you are...thank you so much and I hope you enjoy it! First we have District 9 eulogies since both of their tributes are now gone, and then we're onto the story! without further ado, Day 4!

DISTRICT NINE EULOGIES

Unity Carden

I want to break something as I stare at the two black monitors in front of me. I already sobbed when Sage was taken out at the Bloodbath, but there was hope inside of me. Sure, Sage was gone, but Luke was left alive, armed and in a giant field. This arena was built for a rough and tumble tribute from our District. But then the stampede came. And he was frozen in place. And it's just not fair! The tears pour down my face, and I know I'm sobbing and throwing a tantrum in front of all of the other Mentors, but I don't care. I'm the first Victor ever, I've always tried to act so regal, but the one time I get two decent tributes they die like this! They still die so early! I don't know if it's bad luck, if fate is against me, if Snow still hates me for the rebellious family I had during the Dark Days. Whatever it is, I just don't know if I can ever do this again. Sage and Luke deserved so much better.

District Nine

District Nine was devastated to lose two of their strongest tributes in years so early, but as is Nine custom, they mourned and then returned to their work, attempting to move on. Sage's family was a mess after her death; her parents divorced, and Rini could not model for over a year because she was so depressed. However, as time went on, Rini returned to modeling. She would eventually marry her friend Claudius Templesmith, and they'd move to the Capitol after getting married in their early 20s where Rini would get to live a lavish lifestyle. Although Luke's family was dead, Surter's family mourned him deeply, and Surter named his first child many years later after Luke. Ropin kept a small monument to Luke Saturn in the center of their little village, and strengthened protections against future stampedes.

Calico D'Amboise, 14

District Eight Male

I lay on my back, watching the sun slowly rise in the sky and nibbling on the last cracker that I have, trying to stretch out the tiny thing. My parents must've pooled together enough money back home or something, because yesterday morning I got a tiny sleeve of about a dozen crackers flown down to me while I was crawling through the grass. I tried to make them last, but there's only so much I could do when my stomach was grumbling and there was nothing to do but crawl all day. It's hard to keep yourself from devouring food when it's been four days since your last full meal.

The biggest thing I feel is tiredness. I'm happy I wasn't anywhere near the path of the bison yesterday, or I probably would've gotten trampled because I'd be too slow to get out of the way. Someone didn't get out of the way fast enough, the Nine guy was in the sky last night. That was a shocker to me. I'd have thought he would know how to deal with a stampede, and I thought he'd make it so much farther, this is his type of arena. But the Games never go like you think they would. No one thought I'd make it out of the Bloodbath, and yet here I am. I'm still kicking, and only god knows how.

After finishing my last cracker, I stuff the remnants of the plastic wrapper into my pocket and continue crawling in the dirt, pushing my way through the grass and keeping hidden within it. Maybe it's fear or boredom, but I haven't stood up in days, I've just been on my back or on my hands and knees. I have nothing else to do, and this arena seems like it goes on forever and ever, so I just crawl, crawl, crawl and try to pass the long, painful hours. We're barely 72 hours in, and I already feel like I've been in this prairie for months. I've seen enough golden grass to last me a lifetime.

The world starts to blur around me as I keep crawling, and I lose track of time, slipping into a dazed state. All I do is keep crawling, feeling the dry, crumbly dirt underneath my palms and the scratchy stalks of the golden grass rustling against my bare calves. Even those feelings start to fade away as I retreat into the recesses of my mind, the monotony of the crawling completely shutting me down.

My mind flashes back home for the first time in a long time. I really think about life, about how I acted, how I treated the people around me. I start to feel heat gather in my cheeks, and my jaw clenches. I feel shame. I feel guilt. I feel embarrassment. I think about how I treated our maid, how I treated my mother, how I treated my "friends." Tears don't come, I'm too dehydrated for that, but I feel invisible ones welling in my parched eyes. I was a jerk, and then in the Capitol I kept pushing that image. I just kept being cruel. I just kept being mean, because it was all that I knew how to do.

I stop crawling all of the sudden, stopped in my tracks by my thoughts. I was a terrible person. A terrible son. A terrible friend. And I'll never get the redemption from that. I'm going to die out here, in this neverending field of wheat, and the only way people will remember me is as the rude grandson of Button's mayor who died in the 22nd Games. I'm going to be irrelevant, scorned, forgotten, nothing.

My body begins to shudder as the guilt hits me harder. I'm so tired, I can't stop myself from thinking about everything I did. Taunting the poor or ugly kids at school to make myself feel better. Buying gifts so the popular kids would like me. Being rude to the help or my mom because I wanted them to treat me like I was an adult, when I was just a whiny little kid. I was just an infant, whimpering and crying whenever something didn't go my way. My body is wracked with dry sobs, and I shudder as I think about my father, laying in bed and barely breathing. He's embarrassed by me; everyone is. They may have pooled enough money together to send me crackers, but they have nothing else. All they've ever done is give, give, give to me, and all I've ever done in return is take and snarl.

"I'm sorry for being mean," I whisper under my breath, but I know the cameras must be catching it, the Capitol must be titillated with my breakdown. They love seeing the weak little boys and girls crumple and whimper, especially when they've been rude like me. They like seeing me fall apart and be unable to put myself back together. They like seeing me get squished like a bug crushed underfoot, an insect for them to laugh and point at.

I lay motionless in the grass for a long time, letting the waves of guilt, fear, and shame wash over me. I'm thankful I'm too dehydrated to really cry, or else my shirt would be soaked in tears. Eventually, boredom and the hot sun eats away at my feelings, and my thoughts return to my surroundings. I've been still for too long. If I want to prove to everyone why I deserve to be alive, and why I deserve their forgiveness, I have to keep pushing and surviving.

I peek my head above the grass for the first time in a long time to see where I'm at. I immediately blanch when I see that I'm less than a half mile from the Cornucopia. In my senseless crawling, I lost my sense of direction and headed straight for the golden Horn. I see the pack just beginning to rove around the grass near the Cornucopia, looking for anyone stupid enough like me to come close to their stronghold.

I curse myself as I duck back underneath the grass. There's nothing I can do; crawling will make too much noise, and I'll be too slow to get away from them moving on foot. They'll see me, and kill me. And there's no way in hell I can attack them. So I have to hope they go in a different direction, and just lay here, and pray. I have to pray they don't find me, because there's nothing I can do but hide and hope.

The minutes pass painfully slow, and my ears ache from trying to pick out any noise from the pack. Eventually, I hear voices slowly coming closer, and rustling of the grass. I lay as still as a stone, pressing my eyes tightly closed in fear and praying they pass right past me, skipping my little section of grass. The voices continue to close in on me, and I know they're going to find me. I'm not camoflauged, I'm not armed, I'm not anything except royally screwed.

Chavez's voice is the first one I can make out clearly, and I curse silently to myself, starting to shake with fear. If Chavez is the one to get me, then it's over. The Careers probably haven't made a kill in a couple of days if the cannon yesterday was from the bison, so they're going to be bloodthirsty and willing to put on a tortuous show for the Capitol. And Chavez is the craziest one. If he finds me...I'll be here for hours. I pray to see any face besides Chavez's.

Of course, Chavez's perfectly chiseled face comes into my field of vision first as he peers over me. I scream when I see him, and instinctually I rush to my feet and start trying to run away. Chavez whoops excitedly and then begins to laugh, able to keep up with me at a light jog as I huff and try to run away as fast as I can. But my little pudgy body is no match for his long, fluid strides.

I look back once, and see the rest of the pack following slowly behind. They all seem reserved, letting Chavez have the kill, letting him sate his bloodthirst by toying with me. Ardin looks annoyed, while Tyberios and the Ones show no emotion. However, while I'm looking back and not at Chavez, he makes a lunge at me and pushes me to the ground roughly.

I land hard, my shoulder flaring with pain. I scream again as he pounces on top of me, shoving me hard into the ground. He picks me up by the shirt and throws me to the ground again as I continue to push out bloodcurdling screams. Pain explodes across my body as I land roughly again, but I know the pain is about to get a lot worse as he draws out a wickedly sharp throwing knife.

"Want to play a game?" he asks with a devilish smirk, and all I can do is continue to screech and try to push him off of me. He punches me in the face, and I fall still as blood gushes from my nose, sobbing with no tears coming from my eyes as Chavez chuckles.

"I'll take that as a yes," he tells me before digging his knife into my cheek, making me scream louder than ever before. As he continues to stab me, the world starts to shimmer and bubble as I feel coppery blood pool on my tongue and roll down my arms. As the world gets fuzzier and fuzzier, and more and more painful, all I can think is that this must be my penance for the horrible life I've lived. I made everyone else suffer, and now I must suffer greater than all of that combined to make up for it. All I hope is that this makes up for everything I've ever done as I watch Chavez dig his blade into me again and again until I can't see him or anything but an endless sea of black.

Chavez Belasco, 18

District Four Male

BOOM!

I grin as I stand up from over the little 8 boy's corpse, wiping the blood on my knife against my shorts. His face, neck, and chest are peppered with deep gashes and curling cuts, all dribbling blood onto his clothes and the grass around him. I've made a mess, but an entertaining mess, and I know the Capitol will be pleased. More than that, I'm pleased. I haven't been able to sink my blades into someone since the Bloodbath, and getting to do so this morning just made my day.

I turn back to the rest of the pack after the boy's cannon fires with a wicked grin on my face, but no one congratulates me on the gory kill. My smile instantly drops, and annoyance bubbles in my chest. As the leader of this pack, I had rights to the first kill, but I expected some opposition. None of us have even seen another tribute besides ourselves and that 12 skank since the Bloodbath. But they all just stepped back, and let me have my fun. These people just don't make any sense. They're here to win, aren't they? To win, you have to kill. And the fact none of them have the slightest interest in making the first post-Bloodbath kill is mind boggling to me.

"Done with your fun?" Ardin asks me, and I can feel the harsh undertones in her voice. It makes me want to snap her neck, right here, right now. But I'm not an idiot. I know I've been rubbing these people the wrong way, and if I try to break the pack, I'll be at a disadvantage. I might be the leader and the strongest one here, but even then I'm not stupid enough to go up against four Careers at once. Eventually I'll get her; just not today.

"Didn't you hear the cannon, or are you deaf too?" I snap back as we begin to start searching again, fanning back out into our formation and prowling the fields for more tributes.

Ardin doesn't rise to my bait, but a glance backwards and I can see her face is screwed up in a sour grimace. That makes me smirk. Seeing her get all upset and bothered makes me joyful. It's always a good day when you can get under Ardin Varnell's skin.

The pack surveys the grasses around us in silence, and I can tell everyone is falling deep into their own thoughts. They're distracted, the grass around them pulling them away from the moment as it stretches on into infinity in the distance. I could completely throw a knife into Ardin's throat, or gut Zircon like a fish before they even knew what hit them. The others wouldn't dare pursue me, I know it, and my body itches to do something, to do more. Calico's blood is barely drying on my hands, and I'm already ravenous for another kill. The way none of the others have that same bloodlust is surprising, but not upsetting. If they're all a little shy about killing, that just makes my job easier. If they're all going to hesitate, the moment I make my move, they won't be able to react quickly enough. And that's all I need.

We scope out the mile or so around the Cornucopia over the next hour, and we find no one else. I'm not surprised; that 8 boy was a pure idiot to be that close to this Cornucopia this early in the Games. I don't really remember anything about him except that he's spoiled, so maybe he couldn't handle the hunger already and was risking his life for some food. Whatever his reason, he's idiotic, and no one else is stupid enough to come close enough to our den, because the grass around the Horn is empty of other tributes. We meet up in the field, taking a water break, and we start talking about what to do next.

"We've barely hunted past the Horn. I think it's time we make a trek out deeper," Tyberios says after guzzling half of a water bottle.

"I agree, I want to get the cowards hiding on the fringe," I nod, and everyone seems surprised I'm not being confrontational. What, I'm going to reject a good, obvious idea just because I'm willing to put on a show? These people must think I'm an idiot. I can't wait to carve them to bits.

"I think we should go to that big dark dot on the horizon," Zircon muses, pointing with his spear to a small, blurry brown shape that seems to be towards the edge of the arena. None of us have been able to make out what it is, but it can't be that big.

"Is anyone dumb enough to go to the only landmark in the entire arena?" Trinity sniffs, crossing her arms.

"If that 8 boy was stupid enough to come within a half mile of the Cornucopia, I guarantee one of them is stupid enough to go there," I growl.

"Maybe we should just stick to the fields," Ardin says, her eyes darting towards me to see how I react. "We shouldn't be foolish."

"Going to check out the only landmark in this sea of wheat isn't foolish," I scoff, shaking my head. "We're going to have to do it eventually, why not today?"

"I just want to make sure we're prepared, and there's nothing wr-" she begins.

"Look, Ardin, if you're scared to go farther than a mile from the Cornucopia, you can go make soup with the rest of the babies," I snarl violently. "I'm the leader of this pack, and I think we need to go check out that dot. And whoever wants to can come with me."

"Whatever," Ardin says, rolling her eyes. "Just because you're the leader doesn't mean we have to walk straight towards what is probably a trap."

"A trap!?" I howl, the anger building up inside of me. "Why would the Gamemakers trick the entire pack this early in the Games?!"

"It's called caution, you neandrathal!" she snaps back, getting closer to me now, her brow furrowed in absolute fury. "I understand you just want to go around torturing little kids, but sometimes you need to think before you go running off somewhere!"

"You are just a nasty little bitch!" I shout back. "I'm done with this insubordination."

"I can do whatever I please-" she begins, but I pull out the blade I used to murder the 8 boy, and she pauses, her eyes focusing on the blood soaked tip of the knife as she reaches for her own knife.

"Guys, stop it, right now," Tyberios barks, trying to work between us, but I shove him to the side, continuing to point my throwing knife right at Ardin's throat.

"I'm done with Ardin thinking the world revolves around her and her cautious plans. We've hidden out by this Cornucopia for four days. I want to hunt," I growl.

"Put down the knife, Chavez," Trinity says, the usually honey-sweet tone she uses with me gone. I glance over at her to see that she is frowning angrily, her hand clenching tighter around the handle of her hatchet. "We can still hunt today."

"I don't want to hunt with Ardin," I hiss. "I'm done playing her games."

"Playing my games?!" Ardin explodes, start to cackle. "PLAYING MY GAMES?! Everything is always all about you, you egotistical asshole! I've been keeping my temper, but if you're going to pull a knife on me because I disagree with you, I'm over it!" She pulls a knife of her own quickly from the belt at her side, and wags it in my face. "I can be threatening too, you dick!"

"Guys, please calm down," Zircon pleads, hands in the air, the only left trying to calm down the situation. Both Trinity and Tyberios have stepped back from us and have stopped trying to interfere, while Zircon is moving closer, attempting to de-escalate. "We can't split yet. You know they hate it went the pack splits early."

"I don't want to split," I reply evenly, staring down Ardin with force. "I just want Ardin to grow up."

"I just want you to shut the fuck up," she growls back. "You don't scare me, Chavez. I can take you."

I laugh loudly, shaking my head slowly. "You wouldn't even last a minute."

The two of us lock eyes for a long time, and even now Zircon has backed up, realizing if we want to fight, we will fight, and one of us will die today. My hands itch to just toss my knife while she's not expecting it and send her crumpling to the ground. I know I could get it right in her windpipe before she could react. But I also don't know what the other three will do if I kill her. I surely won't be allowed back into the pack if I do this...and I'm not sure I'm ready to go all alone. I'm not scared of being alone, but it might not be smart to break apart the pack yet, especially when there's still plenty of strong Outliers left.

I drop my knife, and immediately Ardin panics, confused by my actions. "What?"

"Let's just go hunting," I sigh. "I despise your guts, but we're stupid to do this now. I'll kill you soon, but not today."

"That's comforting," she chuckles, but I can see the relief in her eyes as she slowly drops her knife as well. She keeps her hand on the blade however, so I slide mine back into my belt of throwing knives, and I watch her until she does the same.

"We need each other for now," I manage to say, although it hurts. I hate admitting I need them. But 5 is better than 1, even if the other 4 are infuriating to no end. If that dark dot on the horizon is anything threatening, I don't want to show up there alone or be the first one to approach. It just makes sense, for now, to stay with them. But I'll be sleeping with one eye open. I know the end of this alliance is approaching fast.

Everyone stands around in silence for a bit, awkwardness pervading the five of us. I can't blame them; Ardin and I almost just killed each other. It's a hard silence to break. Eventually, Tyberios clears his throat.

"Let's just stick to the fields, and we can check out the dot tomorrow?" he asks, looking back and forth between myself and Ardin to see if either of us objects. He's clearly slightly nervous to be suggesting something to the both of us. He doesn't want war yet either.

"Sounds fine to me. But we have to go to the dot tomorrow," I reply, sighing. "I'm not letting Outliers get by in whatever that place is."

"I'm alright with it," Ardin murmurs, still looking on edge. She's nervous, but I can tell she isn't going to pull a knife on me. She'd be dumb to do it now. She'd be a coward, to do it when I'm not expecting it. Cowardice from a 2? It wouldn't go over well in the Capitol. And if she did take me down, I doubt the other three would keep a traitor amongst them for very long. So yeah. We've avoided the split, at least for today.

The five of us start heading west, combing through the fields of grass. The grass is shorter here, but it still goes up pretty high on me. Most of the tributes are probably crawling or laying down like the 8 boy was. At least he had the sense to do that. I don't see anyone walking around on the horizon, but I also know that most of the tributes in our field of vision have probably spotted us as well. While a clear arena like this makes it easier to hunt, it also makes it easier for the Outliers to spot us. I'm not too worried about any of them, especially when there's five of us. The scariest Outlier is the 11 boy, and I know I can throw a knife better than him. The only way we die in this arena is if we're ambushed, or if we turn on each other. It's exciting to know that this Games will probably come down to a fight between the five of us hunting here.

As we hunt, the tensions ease between us, and jokes and stories slip from our lips. I find myself smiling and laughing as we pick across the grass, finding no one. But I'm still having fun. I still can't stand Ardin, Tyberios and Trinity's closeness threatens me, and Zircon is a complete wildcard. But they're all charismatic and entertaining, or otherwise they wouldn't be here, fighting in the Games under the title of a Career. We don't find any other tributes, but that's alright for now; despite my hands fidgeting to take down another target, I can keep myself appeased with this simple conversation for a day. When I take the others down, it'll be splendid. But you can't be a badass all day every day. Sometimes you've just got to suck it up and put on a smile, and hopefully they'll remember that dazzling smile when my knives are buried in their throats a week from now.

Fuji LaMac, 18

District Three Female

The golden grass stretches on forever around me, and it takes everything within me to steady my breathing and keep calm as I crawl forward. One pack, still bulging with supplies despite it being Day 4, is slung over my shoulders, and I'm crawling like a beetle in the mud. I'm in the outer stretches of the arena now, so far from the Cornucopia that it's a barely perceptible golden glint on the horizon. The grass would be barely waist height on me if I was standing up, and I'm not that tall. It'd be at the knees of the tall Career boys. If I was standing, I'd be an obvious target for anyone around, maybe even a flick of motion visible from the Cornucopia. So here I am, crawling on my hands and knees like an insect as I try to keep myself from losing my shit.

It already happened once, the morning after I abandoned Omri and slashed open Ivy's stomach with the only knife they had that wasn't slung around Omri's waist. That same knife is tucked into the side pocket of my bag, but I ignore it. I also ignore the already peeling flecks of dried blood that coat the blade and handle. I will away the images that come into my mind, but they flood in no matter what I do or think.

Ivy and Omri, whispering about gutting me and tossing me out like a broken toy when the time is right.

Me, watching the stars twinkle unnaturally in the sky until I hear soft snores from both of them.

Me again, knuckles clenched tight around the hilt of the dagger as I dig it deep into Ivy's gut.

Ivy, eyes wide open in fear as she begins to scream, blood splattering down her chin and across my shirt.

Me, sprinting through the grass as Omri stirs and Ivy moans in a pool of her own blood.

The cannon, sounding loudly as I feel the tears welling in my eyes and dripping down my cheeks.

Everything was too much for me. Seeing Millard die. The other kids in the sky. And then, that nasty Ivy bitch, talking about killing me. I was barely awake when I heard it, but I heard it. I had no other choice. They'd be more alert as the Games went on. I would have never had another chance. They might've even cut me the next day if I hadn't made my move. It was smart, I think. I hope it was. But that still doesn't help me with the bloody memories and the stormy nightmares and the burning paranoia. It makes me want to scream; I did, that night, after I was far away from where Omri was probably cursing my name and Ivy's corpse was cooling. I was convinced I'd be found, that Omri would bury a knife in my neck, or that the Careers would come tumbling in torrents towards me from the Cornucopia. But nothing happened. I was just a strangled scream in the night. I got lucky, and since then I've tried to be quiet. It's hard, when all the thoughts clank around in my head like marbles in a bag.

Besides the fact that my mental state is absolute shit, I actually don't have a lot that I can complain about. I haven't seen anything living besides grass since that first night. I still have plenty of food and water, and I have a weapon too. I've made it far from the center of the arena; it'll take a long time for the Careers' searching to get here, and I know the Gamemakers will let me rest just because of the spectacular show I put on for them on Day 1. I've shown that I have the ability to kill, the need to go home, the will to end lives to better my own. I have a survival instinct. Not everyone has that, and those that don't are quickly weeded out of the Games. I have it, I know that now, and they're not going to get rid of me until I have to fight for my life against someone else. They want to see whose instincts come out on top.

I don't hold many illusions about my chances of going home, even if I've already made as many kills as some Victors. The entire Career pack is still alive, as long as the cannon earlier in the morning wasn't one of them. That cannon means there's twelve other people left besides me. That's a lot of people. A lot of bodies. A lot of death. It's going to take weeks for twelve people to die out here in this prairie, even if there's really nowhere to hide. It's going to be grueling. Slow. I have lots of food and a decent amount of water, but it'll run out eventually. And even then, if I was well fed and watered, there's precious few tributes left I could take in hand to hand combat. The girl from 10 or the pregnant one, Carmen, maybe I could. The dazed girl from 6, or the little spoiled boy from 8. I suspect the cannon this morning was one of those four, I pegged them all as Bloodbaths. Then again, people probably pegged me as a Bloodbath. Whatever. The point is, I can't fight the Careers. I can't fight the stronger Outlier boys. So I'm just biding my time, and giving it my best effort, and hoping that's enough.

I know the survival instinct will take over if I'm ever in a serious fight again, which I know will happen eventually. Still, it feels wrong to be so off guard, to just be crawling around aimlessly. Sure, I might not have much of a shot. I know realistically I'll be dead within two weeks. But still, my body makes me keep moving and a small voice inside of me whispers You can go home. You can see her again. You can live your life again. Keep fighting.

The engagement ring glitters on my finger under the arena's sun, taunting me to take it off. I know it's a risk; the light it throws off could be seen by people near and far. But I can't let go of it. It's like it's attached there. Even if I tried to pry it off, I couldn't. Just looking at it for longer than a couple moments makes my eyes well with tears. Cartenya...I can't imagine what my girlfrined- no, my fiancee- is going through back at home right now. That makes me chuckle just a little bit; I'm worried about her when she's sitting in her rich parents' air conditioned rowhome. Meanwhile, I'm fighting in a death match in the middle of an endless, godforsaken prairie. But that's just who I am. Or, really, that's the person she makes me. She is the only person besides my sister who has ever cared about me, or really seen me. And the fact I'm not going home doesn't really hurt me as much as it hurts me to know that I'll never get to see her again. That she'll be sobbing for weeks. That I'll never get to kiss her in the Justice Building as the secretary signs our marriage license.

The tears crowd my eyes, but I keep them at bay. I know the Capitol's eyes are on me now, at least every now and then when there's nothing else going on. I'm a killer, and I know that they like me. The morning after I killed Ivy and screamed about it, Takami sent me a tiny sugar cookie with a note that read "Don't give up. You're stronger than you know." I must be assembling a small cult following, or at least be interesting enough that some rich tycoons want to throw cash my way. Either way, all I knew was that the cookie tasted delicious, and Takami's message basically said "Shut the fuck up or you're never getting anything nice like this again." The Capitol liked seeing me carve Ivy's intestines to ribbons. They did not like seeing me scream about it into the night. I cannot be weak, if I want to survive, if I want to smell the floral shampoo smell of Cartenya's hair or wrap my arms around my sister Adata or finally get my dad to break out of his depressive stupor. I want to be able to talk to him about my mom's death, about how much I love him, about the girlfriend I've been hiding. I keep the tears at bay, for the three of them, the only three people who matter to me in this world, so I can talk to them again and explain everything that I can manage to.

As the sun begins to set over the horizon, I keep thinking about all the little things about them that make me laugh or smile. The way my dad used to tell ugly, awful, yet hilarious puns before my mom died. The way my mom used to brush out my hair every morning even though it was still messy afterwards. The tears almost spill when I think of her, but I keep pushing, keep smiling. The way Adata does circles around me in her wheelchair when we're going down the sidewalk to prove she's still faster and more agile than me, even if she can't stand up. The way Cartenya's lips fit perfectly on mine, and the way I saw infinity in her eyes when she put this ring on my finger that one fateful night three months before the Reaping.

For all of them, I keep surviving. I am going to die. My heart tells me it's probably true, logic tells me it's a certainty. And yet, I can't give up. I've gone too far, done too much, to just give up and let them win. My stubborness won't let the Careers win, the boys win, not even the frail girl from 6 who probably can barely walk by now. It has to be me. Even if I'm running on pure fumes of hatred, spite, and longing for my family, I will keep going until I can't go anymore. I will cling to life until it's wrenched away from me. That's all I can do. I'm satisfied with that as I watch the sun glimmer pink and yellow on the horizon, dreaming of Cartenya's lips on mine once more.

Lord Parthenia, 16

District Twelve Male

Miriam and I have dozens of books strewn around us as we sit next to each other on the creaky floorboards of the prairie cabin. Outside the window, the sun is setting, painting the sky in bright pinks and yellows before melting to a darker, more ominous mix of orange and red. The colors mix almost like blood as they ripple on the horizon. I know I should be flipping through the pages of the book, but the sunset holds my attention. Even more, the horizon holds my attention where I can see the Cornucopia, a speck of gold that makes my blood race every time I look at it. I won't let it show, but I know they're coming for us soon, and I'm worried we've made the wrong choice staying here.

I force myself to look back down at the book in my hands. Its pale blue binding is tattered, the pages almost falling out. I skim over the words, barely reading. It's a boring history book about life in Panem before the Dark Days, when the Districts supposedly lived in perfect harmony with the Capitol until they became greedy. From the words of the old-timers in Twelve I know it's horseshit, that the Capitolites are the monsters, but of course the Capitol would put their propaganda in the arena. They're not going to admit to anyone that they're the true monsters, not even to two kids who are probably going to die sooner than later.

Miriam slams the thick book she's reading to the ground, groaning and laying back. "I can't do this anymore," she whines, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand. "It's boring, and we're finding nothing."

We've been searching ever since we made our alliance in these books for some sort of clue. Eris told me that Ludum loves hiding clues in his arenas, and she's not wrong. I remember just last year, Lucia and her District partner found a store of food when they explored a frightening cave most tributes would run from. There's the genie lamp that led a kid to an oasis. Another time, I don't know from what Games, I remember some smart tribute solving one of Ludum's riddles, and he found a dagger. Not that a dagger would help us much, but still. There's nothing in this fucking arena besides this cabin and these books besides grass. If Ludum wants to hide a clue like Eris said, it's in this stupid cabin.

"Did you hear me?" Miriam snaps. "I said I'm done here. We need to move out and go somewhere else."

Well, at least she wants to keep working together. She's fiery, and it's nice to have company, and I think I'm starting to trust her.

"Sorry, I was...zoning out," I mutter. "I don't know. My gut just tells me there's something here."

"Well, whatever's in here can come out by now!" she howls, crossing her arms and laying back down on the floorboards. "I feel like a sitting duck. I don't want to be the dumb Outlier who gets caught in the only monument in the entire fucking arena."

She's right. She's thirteen and obnoxious and whiny but she's also smart and perceptive and right. We need to leave. We've been sitting here for two days digging through the bookshelves in this cabin. This cabin, which is so goddamn visible from every single part of the arena. The fact the Careers haven't checked it out yet is astounding. And maybe there's something in these books, but what are we going to get? A cake? A dagger? A bottle of water? All nice, but not necessarily worth getting butchered by Careers for. We need to head out into the grass, melt into the stalks, and pray they don't find us. That's the sensible thing to do.

But I've never been sensible, so I pull another book off the shelf. "There has to be something here. Some reason for this cabin, and all these books. It's special, you know it. If we leave, we're just waiting for them to kill us. This could be our chance to get something."

"To get a box of matches or something even dumber?" she groans, sitting up and staring at me. "Lord, I know you're convinced there's something here, and I want to help. But I want to survive, too, and I'm not staying here for much longer."

I instantly see what she means. She wants to work with me, but she isn't going to risk her life for what she sees as a fool's errand. It probably is a fool's errand. I should pack up right now, tell Miriam I'm happy to have someone to provide common sense for me, and sprint back out into the fields. I have my armor from some sponsors who must be drooling over me, I have food, I have water, I have company. I'll have a chance, if the odds are in my favor.

It all feels like gambling, though, like the poker games in smoky alleys back in 12 and the illegal betting in the whore dens over which tribute's going to die first. I wonder if any of my exes bet on me to be the first to go. Either way, the first thing I learned about gambling from Cressilda and Thor when I started working at the bar was that you have to follow your instincts. If your instincts suck, stay out of the gambling dens. And if they don't, then follow your gut.

Whatever I do in this arena is going to be a gamble. I'm going to need luck no matter what happens to be the last one alive here. And when I gamble, I follow my heart. I follow my instinct. And right now, my instincts are screaming at me that I'm in the right spot, that I need to stay here and keep searching. I can't explain why, but I know if I leave here I'm most definitely going to die. And if I stay here, well, maybe I have a chance.

"You can go if you want," I tell her finally in a resigned voice. "I get it. I just...I really think there's something here. Just help me search until midnight and then we can split the supplies and you can go. I'm staying here."

"Okay," she nods slowly, then faster, seemingly agreeing with the idea. "I can tell...you're convinced about this, so I'll help a little more. I'll try to focus, no promises." She chuckles quietly. "Who would've thought we'd be the two bookworms in the arena?"

I chuckle too, and I grin at her. "Thanks. Whatever happens, if you leave tonight, you always have a friend in me."

"Same here," she smiles softly, and I can tell she's being genuine. Then I see the sarcastic mask snap back over the thirteen year old's face. "Let's get reading, or are we just going to be sitting around sentimentally until midnight?"

"Let's read," I smirk in agreement, and we dive back into the books.

The couple of hours between sunset and midnight glide by slowly as I page through book after book. The shelves are nearly empty, and we've found absolutely nothing. I can tell Miriam is getting antsy; it's pitch black outside, and we read by candlelight, so small it can't be seen from outside. We checked. The only other light is the small flame flickering on the horzion. The Careers are no doubt bantering and sharpening their knives with thoughts of murder dancing in their heads as they toast marshmallows over the fire. The idea makes me snort. But the smile falls as I see Miriam slowly pick up another book. She's ready to leave, I can tell as she absentmindedly flips through another book. Our time's run out.

As I'm about to say something to her about it being okay for her to leave, I spot a book tucked in the shadowy corner of a lower shelf. I must've missed it earlier. My eyes dart towards the binding; it's pale green, with two words in blocky black letters printed on it: FOR YOU.

"I think I found something," I whisper as I slowly draw the slim book off of the shelf.

Miriam rolls her eyes, scooting over to me. "Another romance nov-" she begins, but she stops when we both read the name of the author scrawled on the cover beneath the title.

"Ludum Factorem," we both breathe quietly.

The Head Gamemaker's name hangs in the air, stunning me as I crack open the cover. Miriam peers over my shoulder as we find that the first page is blank.

"Well fuck," she sighs, but I leaf through the pages, and find something printed on the very middle one.

Before The Dark Days by Malchus Menachite. Page 506. 3rd Paragraph 16th Word.

I instantly set down the book and grab the pale blue one I was reading earlier, when Miriam first brought up leaving behind the cabin and going back out into the prairie. My hands shake as I flip to page 506. Miriam watches intently as my finger traces the lines and finds the word that the Head Gamemaker wants us to read.

"Brick," I whisper.

"Brick? Like Talladega, the Victor?" Miriam asks, but I'm already standing and walking towards the fireplace that cuts the bookshelf into two halves. My fingers trace the cold, rough edge of it as I whisper.

"Brick. Like the fireplace."

I pick up For You again, and continue leafing through the pages until I reach the back. Scrawled on the last page in the same handwriting as the first clue is a single letter.

"L?" Miriam asks, confused, but I scurry back to the fireplace and begin scanning the bricks slowly, surely.

"What the fuck are you doing, you're saying nothing to me and you look deranged!" Miriam snaps as she stands next to me with her hands on her hips as I run my fingers across each brick.

"Looking for the letter L," I mumble, and I think I've been very stupid and maybe the clue is about Talladega, the Victor, when my finger brushes across a carved L in the fireplace. Miriam notices how my body tenses, and neither of us breathes as I press on the carved brick.

It slides inward easily, and a small pop can be heard. We both jump to our feet and watch as the stone floor of the fireplace slides away slowly. A long, skinny oak box rises up from beneath the hiding spot. It has a gold clasp, and carved into the wood is the word "Congratulations." Miriam and I both share a long glance before I fall to my knees, undo the clasp, and lift the lid of the dusty oak box to reveal what our hard work has earned us.

"Holy fuck," Miriam gasps, hands over her mouth, and there's nothing I can do but stare, and then I begin to laugh, slow and quiet. But soon it rises, and I'm cackling, I'm cackling in glee, and Miriam is too as we both stare at the box's contents.

"We're going to win these Games," is all I can say before I start giggling again. "We're going to fucking destroy them."

A/N: Wow, that turned out to be such a long chapter, but I just missed writing this story so much and it felt so good to finally write out some of these characters, conversations, and events after so long. I hope it was good!

14TH: CALICO D'AMBOISE, 8M - Killed by Chavez

Calico was a tribute I hated at first, and I was so excited to make his death at the Bloodbath gruesome. However, I felt like he would be an interesting tribute to have survive the Bloodbath, and have some realizations and character development before being victim of the Careers hunting. I won't say I loved him or anything, but writing him truly was an exploration and I enjoyed it a lot. He was an interesting character, and it was fun to write someone with so many glaring weaknesses and someone who was screwed over from the get go.

Kill Count:

Chavez Belasco: 3 (Baron, Jayce, Calico)

Trinity Vegas: 2 (Rufus, Gaia)

Zircon O'Dile: 2 (Soya, Millard)

Ardin Varnell: 1 (Sage)

Tyberios Palatium: 1 (Bernie)

Fuji LaMac: 1 (Ivy)

Arena Events: 1 (Luke)

Well, that's the first chapter in two years! I hope you guys really enjoyed it, I know nothing is worth the wait that long, but I am really addicted to this story again. I have so many great twists and turns planned and I hope you guys are ready for it because I truly do intend to finally finish this story :)

What did y'all think of Calico's death? Of the pack almost splitting? Of Chavez being a peacemaker? Of Fujis state? What do you think Lord and Miriam found?! If anyone's still reading I'd love to hear your thoughts and I hope anyone left is as excited as me.

Thanks to anyone loyal enough and invested enough to still be here and still be reading. It means the world to me; I hope the rest of this Games is amazing to read and y'all enjoy it :)

Until Next Time,

Tracee