Who's ready for the tail-end of this battle?

I feel like the last chapter was kind of insane with the deaths, and this chapter is going to be pretty similar! I've been speeding this up slightly, but I'm doing my very best to give a general overview of everyone, so let me know if you think I need to do more of that :)

I apologise in advance for any mistakes this chapter. I'm sure there have been mistakes before, but this chapter was really tough to edit. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Also - I will not be uploading any chapters until 2021! Please check my profile for an idea of my update schedule.

Thank you to Remus98 and Alecxias who reviewed!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form. I only own the arena I have created.

"The flame is not out, but it is flickering." ~Ken Burns.

Lewis Coltsfoot, Fifteen, District Twelve Male

I hear the cannon.

Shura…

I don't need to look to know; Shura's screaming was more than enough.

I swipe yet again at Ashton, a little more aggressively than before. While the others fought, the two of us have been engaging in a somewhat half-hearted stalemate. I don't really want to start a killstreak, yet at the same time, I have to kill someone if I'm going to make it to the end. Not my favourite option, but needs must, right? I have to push past this bad feeling coiled away in my stomach and focus on what I'm doing here. Kill Ashton. Dathan will kill Lenore. Both of us kill Izzy. That idea seems so simple, right? Doesn't it just seem so easy for me to keep at least one of my allies? Parker's already gone. Shura's just died and Dathan or I could be dead any minute now. Three against two. Not good odds, not impossible ones either.

Shura…

I'm in shock, but the pain is beginning to set in.

Shura's relentless energy and his absurd sense of humour used to ring in my ears almost constantly. Now I can't hear anything. Hell, I wish he was still here going on about needing to get spicy, ya know what I mean, Colt? or something equally outlandish. The mere presence of Shura's manic mutterings has become something that's calmed me. Now that there's a near silence beside the sounds of fighting? It's a gap I never truly realised was there until a few seconds ago.

"We don't have to do this," Ashton notes, jumping back from me as my short sword swipes at him. "Shura's dead, Leigha's gone. We're one for one. We can still ally…"

Ashton's face is contorted in pain. Whatever connection he'd made to Leigha was severed by Dathan's actions and it's clearly getting to him more than he'd like. Dathan's kill kind of confirmed our operation for me – before we were merely fighting, now, we're merely trying to survive. I don't agree with any of this; how am I supposed to? But this is the only way forward. Sooner or later, everyone around me will have to die if I plan on living.

"There's no way," I tell him apologetically. "Nobody will forgive Dathan. Nobody will forgive Izzy."

"Isn't there room in everyone's hearts for a little forgiveness?" Ashton asks, almost meekly. "We're not animals. We're people."

"I hear you," I nod. "But this is the Hunger Games. We're no longer people. We're entertainment."

I've confident that the cameras will cut that out, but I don't care if I'm saying it. Ashton is making all the right points with his morality, but there's no such thing here. There's only death; Leigha's crushed skull and the knives in Shura's eyes are enough to confirm that.

Ashton's face sets.

"I'm sorry…" he mutters.

To our right, Lenore has engaged in a battle with Dathan, dodging nimbly out of the way as he slams his hammer down on to the ground beside her. Izzy wipes the blood from her face, a faint red smudge working its way across her skin. She quickly runs in to help.

It all seems to happen quite fast, and but it's Dathan's voice that captures my attention.

"Lewis, go!"

Dathan fends off Lenore and Izzy, but only barely. It's clear on his face that he's aware that it's a fight he might not be able to win, especially as he cries out as Izzy kicks him in the stomach and Lenore's dagger buries itself deep into his shoulder.

"Dathan…" my voice comes out a weak whisper and tears begin to cloud my vision but I desperately blink them back. I try again, my voice stronger. "Dathan, no!"

"Lewis, I swear, fucking go!" he calls back as he dodges out of the way of another swipe from Lenore, kicking Izzy back. Despite him continuing to fight on, I can tell he's tiring, and the hammer slows him down. "Save yourself, Lewis. Do it for me! For Shura. For Parker."

"Do it," Ashton urges me, agreeing with Dathan. "Do it and have a chance at living."

"I don't want to betray him," I tell Ashton.

"You won't have to," he tells me, coming towards me, knife raised. "I'll give you a reason to run."

Swift on his feet, Ashton leaps towards me a stabs the knife into my arm. Paralysing pain erupts from the wound as my hand spasms, dropping my sword. Ashton scoops it up and jabs it at me, but he's too slow. I manage to stumble out of his way, hurrying to the edge of the platform we're on, ripping out the dagger. I regret it almost immediately.

"Lewis, stop getting hurt, just go!"

Another yell from Dathan forces me to look back over the edge, looking down at the various platforms and the foggy abyss below. Then, an idea forms itself in my mind; of course, I could never escape just by running, but Dathan's sharp mind has reminded me of an arena outfit accessory that I've forgotten I have.

"Your parachute!" he yells as he's stabbed once more in the side, howling in pain as he's brought to his knees.

I don't need telling twice. I close my eyes, clench my jaw and fall off the edge of the platform, Ashton's dagger flat against my chest. I'm a second into falling before I'm pulling the mini parachute attached to my colourful bodysuit, the parachute cushioning my fall, but not stopping it. I land harshly on solid ground a few platforms below, stumbling to my side as the vibration of the impact ricochets through me. My shoulder screams and I rip off the parachute, dropping Ashton's dagger on to the glass and tying a wonky tourniquet with the glossy material. The pressure of the knot hurts, but it's ten times more manageable. Blood cakes my hands as my vision swims; I'm torn between crying and fainting, and honestly, I wouldn't say either are good for me right now.

Even with my messed up vision, I can tell that there are old ruins strewn across this platform. Cracked worn stones form what could have been a small chapel. Not wanting to be found, I crawl my way into an alcove, my backpack heavy on my back, my eyes watering in pain. I'm aware that there's no cannon yet, but goddamn it there will be. My chest rises and falls, my heart racing and the pain building until I feel almost driven feral by it all.

Now that I've lost everyone, I have to go on.

But…how?

Lenore Van Duren, Fifteen, District Ten Female

I don't know how we did it, but we have.

I've got a nasty nosebleed. Ashton's covered in scratches and faint bruises. Izzy looks worse for wear, her two shoulder wounds sickeningly red, despite the bandages she's winding around them, taken from Shura's backpack. Dathan's wheezing on the floor, stabbed several times by both Izzy and myself. With Ashton coming in to help us, it wasn't long before my district partner found himself on the ground, defenceless and dying.

I would have thought that I could have found something in me to care.

He's always been that charming, pleasant boy on the train, but it just ended up this way. I had to make my choice, and I chose to ally with those who I trusted the most. Ashton. Izzy. Leigha. Dathan, somehow, just didn't seem to fit into that equation.

"I'll kill him," Ashton offers, pointing his blade at Dathan's throat, stolen from Lewis.

"No," I sigh, grimacing. "I'll do it."

"She should do it," Izzy agrees, her neck twitching involuntarily. "The issues with our alliances lie with her more than us. It's her life to take."

"I don't mind," I respond.

It's true, of course. I really don't mind, mostly because killing Dathan doesn't frighten me. Sure, the body's warmer and the blood is hotter, and the whole process is very much messier than a typical autopsy back in Ten, but at the end of it all, taking a life? Not my intended mission, but it's natural. We are born, we live, and then we die. Death is inevitable. It comes for us all in the end. It is a certain reality.

My switchblade is ready at Dathan's throat, prepared to slice, to create a rose-red mouth under his chin to drink the air in. I don't even give Dathan a chance to say anything. It's death. Quick. Efficient. Over and done with. As my dagger sinks in, his open mouth gargles as he tries to say something, anything. He's holding on to whatever sliver of life he has left.

He doesn't succeed.

A cannon fires, his glassy eyes still filled with fading terror as he watches me.

"Another tale of dead men to be told…" I mutter, closing his eyes for him, bowing my head and grasping his warm hand, caked in red blood.

"What the fuck?" Ashton curses from beside me, clearly disturbed a little by my ruthless actions, but I pay him no mind, keeping my head bowed.

I honour Dathan. I respect his fighting spirit. I appreciate his wishes to protect and help me, no matter how misguided or badly interpreted they were by everyone else. I take just a moment to truly dwell on the role he has played during these moments. He's off in the land of the dead now, a place I know nothing about, but a place we must all be ready for one day. Shura is next, blinded by two kunais. I remember his energy, his ferocity. I respect it. I honour it. I pray for his soul to continue onwards, for his wonderous tirades to never end. I move over to Leigha, ignoring her destroyed skull as my dirty hands brush against her cooling elbow. Leigha's sweetness and her dedication, her need to be herself yet her ability to be cautious – it all comes back to me now, an image of her smiling in my mind. While she met a violent end, I'd like to think that my own wishes can be laid to rest. Maybe somewhere, in another world, she's laughing at home with her family beside fields of wildflowers.

If only…

Yet, death is as cruel as it is kind.

At least Leigha's death was swift. Unfortunately, not everyone in here will have that luxury.

"I…I'm sorry," Ashton breaks the silence.

I look up at him, Izzy's attention brought away from her bandages. Ashton paces back and forth, deliberately not looking at the corpses around us.

"I just-" he begins, but swallows, pausing. "I just need a moment. I just need a minute to process all of this."

Izzy rises from her spot on the floor and walks over to Ashton. He flinches, but she doesn't falter, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him, laying her head on her shoulder. Ashton freezes but then relaxes, tears spilling from his eyes. In mere seconds, he's crying quietly on to Izzy's shoulder. Standing up, I move over to them too, wrapping one arm around Izzy, and the other around Ashton. Even with Leigha gone, the three of us are still here, together.

For a second, everything seems just right.

Then, Izzy stumbles.

"Izzy?" Ashton asks, wiping his tears away, his sadness replaced by confusion and concern. "Are you okay?"

"I just feel…so…tired…" she mutters.

I'm at her side in an instant, checking the bandages on her chest; they're spotted deeply with blood. Even from here, I can smell its metallic odour, and while the bandages aren't soaked through yet, they look to be heading that way. If we don't do something soon, then another one of my allies may meet the cold arms of death just yet.

But like all clouds, there's a silver lining.

Far off in the distance, I hear the familiar chime of a sponsor's parachute. As Izzy leans more and more on me, slipping into unconsciousness, I prop her down beside one of the gravestones as three gifts come falling from the sky. Five. Seven. Ten. One for each of us. Ashton catches his gift, but I can tell he's already in panic mode, his eyes widening at Izzy's condition. I don't even give Izzy's gift a second glance as it lands nearby; instead, I'm on mine in a second.

My hurried, shaking fingers undo the clasp of the gift, which is held in a medium-sized leather bag, a tag attached to it. Grabbing the tag, I quickly read the words. There's not much there; my mentor's lost her mind. But clearly, she had some kind of sanity if she can send me a gift like this.

Save them.

That's all the note says, no name, no nothing. I even check on the back. Nothing.

Opening the zip of the bag cautiously, I peer inside. Medical supplies. Gauze. Plasters. Syringes. Antiseptic wipes. It's a fair amount of each, clearly an expensive gift, a combination of both my own and Dathan's sponsor money, perhaps?

"W-What are we going to do?" Ashton asks, giving me a worried look.

Calmly, I give him my signature eerie gaze back.

"Go," I tell him. "You need space right now. I've got this."

"Wait," he splutters. "But Izzy-"

"Go," I repeat. "I've had enough training to know how to use this stuff. I just don't need anyone panicking around me to do it."

Ashton nods nervously and leaves, heading down the glass stairs nearby. I begin rooting in the medical bag beside me.

I'm not losing another ally today.

Ashton Metz, Sixteen, District Seven Male

I've lost an ally today.

I'm breathing hard, trying to collect my muddled senses. I have to remind myself to remain calm. All of this goddamn change has affected how I'm functioning, and for what? Leigha's life in exchange for Dathan's and Shura's? I've walked far from Izzy and Lenore, as far as down on to the next platform, but I needed some space. There's so much going through my head that I need to remember to ground myself.

Leigha…oh Leigha.

It's almost too much, this sense of shock and loss, all mixed up into one ball of unknown emotion that I can't figure out or describe. Leigha, sweet, kind Leigha is dead. The idea of that in my mind just doesn't seem to make sense. Minutes before the fight began she was talking to me as if nothing else in the world mattered. Now her skull's been caved in by Dathan's hammer, and now Dathan's throat has been slit by Lenore, and now Izzy's being patched up by the undertaker's daughter.

Why is all of this so insane?

I breathe deeply, sitting down on a patch of worn grass to try to collect my fragmented thoughts. The last week has been a whirlwind, but it's time to wake up. It's time for me to focus. It's time for me to fight. I've always been the one to help others, the one to bring a smile to other people's faces. I can't let this anger and grief get the best of me. I swallow hard, willing myself to push down all of the pain and rage and hurt until it's coiled away in my stomach. I still feel tense, but I'll be okay. I always have been.

My sponsor gift is in my hands in a moment, and I twirl the box over and over, debating on whether or not I should open it right now. Shouldn't I be helping Lenore take care of Izzy? I honestly don't know. She didn't want me there, and she could tell I needed the space.

My fingers undo the clasp of the gift before me, opening the box.

There's a long dagger, laid on a bed of crushed velvet, shining silver and serrated, curved and angled in a vicious, spiked formation. It zig-zags a little, and it's a somewhat interesting weapon – I don't honestly know its true name. Regardless, it's a gift, and one I can use. I open up the note, prepared for what Harvard has to say.

Good fight. Split off as soon as you're able. Numbers are dwindling. ~H&R

I frown slightly. Those sound like Rowan's words more than Harvard's, but since Nova's long gone, I guess they're working together to try and bring me back home. Maybe my participation in that fight has helped me enough to stay alive, but I know what this knife means.

I don't want to use it just yet.

This conflicted feeling mixes into my grief and sadness. There's so much for me to think about, but I have to worry about the things that matter. Jun can't help the District all on her own, and I know for sure that my help will only make her work so much easier. I have to get back to them, with Lenore and Izzy's help.

A feeling of unease tingles the back of my neck as my memories replay what's just happened. Lenore's almost ritualistic treatment of Dathan's, Shura's and Leigha's bodies was unnerving. She's creepy, more than I want to admit and in a way that makes me uncomfortable. I thought I knew her before all of this, but killing without remorse? It's terrifying to see it in action.

I shudder at the thought of seeing Lenore's eyes stare into mine as her knife sinks itself into my neck.

I push more of my emotions down. I can't deal with all of these concerns and worries at the moment, so I'll ignore them. For now, I'll focus on helping out with my allies wherever I can.

The walk back across the grassy platform is a quick one, and in mere minutes, I've walked up to the next payette, slipping the box holding my dagger into my backpack. I move over to Lenore. Izzy's colour has returned to her cheeks, her skin no longer holding a greyish quality to it. She's still unconscious, but there's hope. I think she'll be okay, at least for now. Lenore finishes bandaging the second of Izzy's nasty wounds as I crouch down across from her. Shura really got Izzy with those two knives, and I can't imagine the pain she must have been going through.

"How is she?" I ask.

"I think she'll be okay," Lenore responds calmly. "Izzy's sponsor; I didn't want to open it, but it had some healing salve in there it started doing work almost right away. There's not a big pot of it though. I've used a lot of it, but with that, some dressing and some bandages? I think she'll be fine."

"I'm sorry about panicking," I gesture awkwardly. "Just the fight and Leigha dying…"

I try to avoid looking over at Leigha's body. We haven't moved from this spot yet, so the Gamemakers haven't come to take any of them away.

"It's okay," Lenore reassures me with a ghost of a smile. "We were all scared."

"Even you?" I joke. "Even the goddess of death?"

"Ooh, I like that," she laughs, and I smile too, ignoring the uncomfortable lurch in my stomach as the memory of Dathan's death resurfaces. "Did you clear your head?"

I nod, the smile not quite meeting my eyes.

"Thanks for being patient with me."

"It's stressful," she shrugs. "You've got so much pressure on you emotionally, like all of us have. It's normal to need to step away."

"I needed it," I admit. "But now, I'm back and I'm ready to help out where I can."

Am I? Am I really? Yes, I care about Lenore and Izzy, but I should be focused on my own survival. Lenore's aura and Izzy's eccentric attributes; I don't fit in. When Leigha was alive, I did. So what do I do now? Just carry on like nothing's changed?

"Hey, Ashton, can you help me to move Izzy to the next platform?" Lenore asks, bringing me to the present. "We need to bring as many of the supplies we took off Shura and Dathan too."

"Yeah," I hesitate, bending down to gently take Izzy's feet. I don't want to jog her or cause any complications. "Of course."

Of course, I can. Of course, I will.

How long will it be before I say that I can't?

Orion Trent, Eighteen, District Four Male

The crest of the next platform is before us, the last one of its chain, suspended in nothingness.

The girl from Twelve had an ally; the weird boy from Five. After she died, it made logical sense to trek our way up the platforms to find him. We're all on little sleep; Aisha's pushed us hard to get these kills to show the Capitol that we're prepared to do anything to survive. I'm not particularly enjoying myself, but I'm not going to speak up against Aisha about it. There's no point in adding any further tensions to our group right now.

Austin is colder than ever, and Vanity is almost dead silent. Aisha's been taking the lead ahead, determinedly moving onwards and upwards, never stopping, never faltering. I'm kind of stuck in the middle here, to be honest.

We make our way up the stairs, keeping our eyes peeled for the boy from Five. Patchwork concrete painted in a hundred different colours ripple across the platform, dominated by trees and wildlife. A wooden log cabin lies a few metres to our left. As one of the larger platforms, the middle of the patchwork concrete holds a marble fountain, painted in a myriad of colours similar to the stone beneath it.

"If we weren't here to hunt, I'd dare say that this is art."

Nobody's asking Aisha to speak up, but she does so anyway, merely stating her own thoughts. Vanity too, draws level with her, admiring the colour.

"Yeah," she agrees. "It's nice."

"Where's the boy from Five?" Austin questions, his bright eyes surveying the area to see where he can spot him.

There's a lingering smell of smoke in the air, faint, but present. He's definitely here.

"Vanity, Orion, check in the house," Aisha orders. "Austin, you're with me."

Vanity and Austin exchange a brief look; they clearly don't trust us. However, if they wanted to disobey Aisha, they don't show it. Vanity files behind me as I enter the house and Austin follows Aisha onwards into the trees. The house itself isn't overly large; arguably it's more of a small cottage. What furniture is has is wooden and splintered, but it's a house nonetheless. Looking around it, it's almost reminiscent of the one back home...the similar patterned windows, the driftwood making the furniture, the faint smell of smoke and wood permeating my nostrils. There are clean shelves and a few chairs as well, with stairs leading up to the rest of the building.

"I'll check upstairs," I tell Vanity. "I hope that's okay. Could you check the cupboards for me, please?"

I'm always polite, despite the tension in the pack right now. I know it's not good to continue making things worse, so if anything, I'll try to be a mediator. If I can smooth things over with Vanity and Austin (even though I've done nothing wrong) then maybe I can avoid a premature fight.

I move up the creaking stairs and explore the bedrooms. There's two of them, one smaller than the other, both laid out with the bare essentials, straw mattresses and ragged linen blankets. To any tribute, this is close to luxury in the Games. Imagine being able to bunker down here. As my memories flash before my eyes, the smell of smoke almost seems to strengthen as I sit down on one of the mattresses. Before I know it, my piece of driftwood turns over and over in my palms.

Orion…

Memories ricochet in my head, coming to the forefront of my brain, vivid pictures in full colour as I imagine the smoky tendrils pooling around my feet. Absent-mindedly, I feel the cool metal of the machete at my side, dull and smeared with dust and dirt. I imagine the days when I heard the floorboards creak as my little feet thundered down the stairs. My Mom, my Dad; they were so carefree and open. Yeah, sure, Dad was a rebel sympathiser and he wasn't the most liked man in town, but he was happy. He was proud. He was grateful for everything that he had in this world, only for the flames to burn him and my Mother with it. I still remember lying there, whimpering, burning flesh across my skin as my tears dribbled on to their empty faces.

Orion!

As my memories grow stronger I feel the heat on the back of my neck and the smoke fills my lungs, the coughing and the ashes swelling upward to fill every part of me. How I wanted to escape but found that I couldn't – I wanted to be stronger for them, but I wasn't. I wanted to be a better son for them, but I wasn't. What did I get out of all of this, by sitting here, right now, with smoke in my lungs and the crackling flames of my memories strengthening around me?

"Orion!"

A scream, Vanity's. I blink, brought back to reality and all I can see is smoke.

To my left, a rafter collapses, burning and bright, charred wood collapsing down beside the bed I'm sitting on. Fire. The house is on fire. Instantly, the fear crawls across my skin from the pit of my stomach, grasping at my throat as it grapples for air. I'm coughing, but I crawl my way across the top floor, half-frozen, half forcing myself to move. I've been here before, and I've had to fight through this already, but somehow this house is on fire, and there's nothing I can do about it now. I can't freeze up as much as my limbs feel sluggish and my head feels foggy. I can't give up even as my lungs are turning to ashes in my mouth and the sounds of more rafters falling set my smoking heart into a race that terrifies me more than death.

I scramble down the stairs as the roof partially collapses above me, smoke and flame thick and heavy in my ear as I blindly slide through the wooden splinters on the floor, desperately clawing my way out.

"Aisha!" I yell. "Vanity! Austin!"

"Orion!"

I can make out Vanity through the smoke, fighting with the door, a burning rafter bolted over it, preventing my exit. For a second, I freeze. Maybe this is really just the end for me. Maybe this is the moment where I realise that I have to give up. But no, I am not that child anymore. I will not fall victim to the flames that want to bubble my flesh and draw it from my bones. With a roar I run forwards, reminding myself that I'm still alive and that one burning rafter won't stop me from escaping this burning house. I'm not my parents, and I will live through this!

I ignore the scorching pain on my hands, pulling the rafter towards me with all my might. The pain from all of my old burns were worse than this. I cannot give up. Aisha's words from the training centre ring through my head as clear as day, cutting through the thick veil of smoke that threatens to numb all of my senses.

Whatever happened, you're blaming yourself for it. Don't.

I scream in a mixture of agony and perseverance as all of my inner determination bursts forth. I reach through the open door, Vanity's firm hands helping me to pull myself out of the burning house just as it collapses further. I'm half-dragged away from the house, coughing and choking, thankful for the oxygen entering my lungs.

"Why did you leave him in there?" Aisha curses, her tone accusatory.

"I thought I heard someone coming," Vanity hisses back. "I wasn't sure."

"It's not her fault. This guy set everything on fire," I hear Austin saying. "The trees, the house, everything."

Through my blurred, watering vision, Aisha shakes her head, with Austin standing over the boy from Five, currently pinned under his knees, defenceless.

"Get rid of him," Aisha mutters, exasperated.

Austin says nothing more, standing up and raising his spear. The boy from Five merely regards me calmly, as if he expects to die like this. Austin wrinkles his nose, sending the spear straight through the kid's back. There's a brief struggle and a strangled scream, and then boom. A sponsor almost instantly finds Austin, a twinkling sound flying down and landing at his feet. He stares at it for a moment but doesn't open it, instead stuffing it into one of his packs as Aisha checks me over.

Coughing still, I roll over on to my back.

For a second time, I've escaped the embrace of fire.

Aline Liu, Twelve, District Nine Female

Our fire crackles as another cannon sounds in the distance.

"Twelve left, right?" Cleve asks, looking up.

"Eleven," Barric corrects him. His expression is serious, but his eyes are filled with a glimmer of hope.

I have to admit, I'm hiding a smile. People dying isn't the reason why; I'm glad that we're getting closer and closer to going home. Returning home to District Nine? Such thoughts are almost forbidden in a place where such devastation exists. Even so, I can't help but admit that my chances of survival have continued to rise higher and higher.

The evening has come again, and while Barric was uncertain about setting a fire at this hour, several cannons have gone off today. He's deduced that we're more than likely safe in knowing that the Careers have probably had their fill of killing other tributes. That's our main issue right now. Careers. There's still four of them alive, and four against the three of us is more than an unfair fight, its impossible odds. Even with my abilities and Cleve's training with his dagger, we're no match for their experience.

I glance over at my wooden butterfly swords. My hands are red-raw from whittling the log of wood down, and it's taken me hours upon hours to get here. My body is exhausted, but a big part of me is so happy that I was able to make a replica of what I had at home. It's crude in a way; the wood is splintering a bit, but I've added spikes to the swords where I can, so I hope I can at least try to scratch someone or stab them with the wood if they get too close. It's nothing special, but it's better than nothing.

"How long do you think it's going to be before there's only eight of us left?" Cleve wonders aloud.

"Well, we should be careful," Barric says cautiously. "They only need three more deaths. I don't want to worry you, but if they find us, we're goners. We need to wait this out. Let the Careers turn on themselves."

I nod in agreement with this.

"This sounds like the best plan," I confirm. "Avoiding Careers is our smartest move right now."

Barric turns over the meat on the fire one last time; his spoils from his hunting and foraging earlier. Once he's done, he's quick to stamp out the embers as the evening air turns blue. Another night is upon us.

"We've been in here three days," I note. "They wanted a faster Games this year, and they've gotten it."

"The less time we're in here, the better," Cleve shrugs. "If one of us gets out, we can go back home!"

Barric smiles at this, but the fading embers betray his face, his expression pained. I'm about to ask him what's wrong when the Capitol anthem blares out across the arena, showing the faces of the fallen.

The boy from Five shows up first. I don't know much about him, but he was allied with the girl from Twelve. The girl from Six is the next. I remember her being near the argument that happened back in the training centre. It looks like even the larger alliances are starting to lose members now. My words ring true when the energetic boy from Eight and the strong-looking boy from Ten flash up. I wonder what happened to the boy from Twelve, their other ally? Finally, the girl from Twelve appears. I wonder if the Careers found her and the boy from Five?

"Five deaths," Barric lets out a low whistle. "You're right in saying that they're speeding things along."

"Do we know who's left?" I ask, racking my brain. I'm sore and tired from the day's work, and even my clear and calm mind can't completely focus on what's in front of me right now.

"Well, there's the three of us," Cleve offers. "And the four Careers. That makes seven."

"You've got Lenore, Ashton and Izzy," Barric mentions, nodding his head. "They're all still allies. And Lewis, from Twelve, out there on his own. I doubt he'll last long. I guess that either the Careers found Dathan's alliance or Lenore's alliance fought them and won."

"How do you remember all their names?" Cleve asks, tilting his head.

Barric shrugs.

"I don't know," he admits. "It's something about watching past Games and looking over the names of the tributes and the victors and how they survived. I guess remembering names comes naturally to me."

"Well, at least we know who we're up against," I point out. "The Career Pack and a likely tough alliance. I don't want to say anything but…"

"You think we're in a rough spot, is that it?" Barric smirks slightly. "Don't worry. As I said, we'll play it safe. We're going to have to fight eventually, but for now, we lie low. Wait for the Careers to turn on themselves, and then we'll start moving."

Suddenly a faint sound of twinkling reaches my ears and I look up excitedly. Could it be time for us to receive a sponsor gift? None of us has received one so far, so a part of me quells this sense of hope in case it's some kind of dream.

It's not.

Two sponsor gifts float downwards, a large one marked "9" and a small one marked "11". Cleve, happy to receive any kind of contact, stands up eagerly and retrieves his gift. Even with his mature attitude, his face wears a wide smile, so I know he's feeling just as relieved as I am. Barric, who in the light of embers looked ten years older, brightens up. I can tell he's worried about us and how we're going to move forward, but now I'm wondering if he's thinking about himself too. He really should. He can't protect us all the way to the end, surely?

Barric opens our gift and a glorious smell wafts from it. Against my better judgement, my mouth waters hungrily. Barric lets out a small laugh of relief as he turns the box around to display a basket of food: a large loaf of fresh bread with salted butter, a hotpot filled with soup, several portions of dried, cured meats, and a small single bar of something I don't recognise. I guess we've earnt this from all of our hard work making my swords and with Cleve's training. My stomach growls hungrily; thank goodness to whoever was kind enough to send us a feast like this.

"Aline," Barric smiles. "How about some bread and soup?"

A smile breaks out across my face.

"I'd like that very much."

"You two, look at this," Cleve whispers. Barric and I both turn to see Cleve holding a flute-like object, with a small case of four glistening sharp needles, small feathers protruding from the end of each one.

Barric chuckles and Cleve nods in response.

"Someone sponsored me darts."

Dathan Corvair, Seventeen, District Ten Male. Remus, I don't know where to start with Dathan. I was so torn with him, so when I originally placed him, I made him a bloodbath. The more I wrote Dathan though, the more I genuinely found that I enjoyed him and so I found him ending up here. I moved a lot of tribute's placements around, but Dathan's change in position was the biggest jump (9 placements higher than he originally placed), with Leigha's and [redacted] coming in after that. I loved his sense of intelligence mixed with the recklessness you described. I can only hope that after four years, I did him justice. Placed 13th. Throat slit by Lenore Van Duren.

Shion Qing, Seventeen, District Five Male. Haiden, you know your boy yo-yo'd from here to there to everywhere. There was a point where I pegged him as a bloodbath, another time where I put him in the final 8, and so I've settled on somewhere in the middle. I tried my best to understand Shion – he was so deep and complex that he really challenged my writing and I enjoyed him a lot! With the current tributes in the running and the Careers chasing after him, I couldn't envision him getting further than here. Thank you for all of your wonderful support and for believing in me! Placed 12th. Speared by Austin Ogara.

Alliances:

Careers: Austin, Vanity, Aisha, Orion

Smol Protection: Aline, Barric, Cleve

Honestly idk: Izzy, Ashton, Lenore

Going Solo: Lewis

Kills:

Austin - III
Vanity - I
Aisha - II
Orion - I
Career Pack Assist - I
Izzy - I
Lenore - I
Dathan (DECEASED) - I
Morgana (DECEASED) - I
Arena - I

Ahhhhh, we're here! Just into the final twelve, and we don't have long before this is finished. We're going into single figure chapters until the end of Picking Up The Pieces, and I'm so thankful to everyone who's been here for the ride so far. Thank you so so much for everything!

Before we get to our celebrations and the finale, we've got a few chapters to get to first, and a little more to unpack in terms of plots. We've still got three big alliances (and Lewis on his own oof), so it's going to be a big finish, for sure.

This chapter was a big one for playoffs and plots, especially with some characters and their development. This chapter was really fun to write for me because there was so much that I felt that I explored with the characters and the dilemmas they were presented with.

Lewis has had to run at the cost of his allies. Do you think he'll be able to last for much longer?
Lenore's had a rough time, but finally, her issues with Dathan have come to a close. What did you think of these two rival alliances and how their battle turned out?
Ashton's struggling with his emotions. What did you think of his thought process this chapter?
Orion's fighting fire with fire, and it looks like he was able to fight past some of his own fears and instincts. How do you think he'll progress from here?
Aline's finally got her wooden swords and some sponsors! What do you think about their sponsor gifts? What about their game plan for the next stage in the Games?

This one has a lot more in it, but I'm glad it did. I added in the extra POV's over the last two chapters because I wanted to focus on some extra development ideas I had. I feel like that was a good choice? :D

Lastly, Merry Christmas, and have a Happy New Year! I hope you all stay safe and well~

Over and out!
~Mental