Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.

Note: Submissions for What You Fight Against are open until the end of the day on Sunday. There's still plenty of room, so get those tributes in.

Day One
Done Quickly

Felix Stout
District One Mentor

"Not bad at all."

Felix leaned back in his chair, grinning at Jade and Jasper. It wasn't unusual for the Career pack to make it out of the bloodbath without any losses, but he hadn't expected such an impressive showing this year. Even with below-average Careers – Careers who had scored low even compared to the stronger outer-district tributes – they'd managed to rack up five kills without anything more than a few scratches to show for it.

"Don't get too cocky," Jade cautioned, but he couldn't help a smile even as he said it. "There are still twenty-eight tributes left."

"And four of them are ours," Felix agreed, flashing a smile at Stellar. "Your boy made it out, too. And his allies. Not too shabby, either."

Stellar shook her head. "They're hiding in a closet."

"Only until Ronan and his allies leave," Felix reasoned. "They know better than to start a fight with three armed tributes when they've got nothing besides a bunch of clothes. That's smart."

"If they were smart, they would have tried to grab something from the bloodbath. Most of the Careers were occupied."

Felix shrugged. "They had no way of knowing that would happen. Better safe than sorry."

Stellar shook her head. "That's not how any of us won our Games."

"True. But we had training. We were ready. Consus is going to have to ease into it, but I wouldn't worry." Felix smiled. "He'll get there."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Instinct," Felix answered vaguely. If he was being honest, he was just trying to be kind. The boy and his allies had gotten lucky, or maybe the Gamemakers had something special planned for them. Probably the latter. Ending up clumped together like that on one side of the bloodbath was too much to be a coincidence. Just like it was too much of a coincidence that the younger girl from Six had ended up between two Careers. Usually, the Gamemakers didn't have to interfere to get rid of troublesome tributes. The other tributes did a reasonably good job of that themselves.

"At least the real Career pack isn't heading in his direction," Stellar mumbled.

She was right. Justus had apparently made a decision about which way to go – through the door to the left of the one Consus and his allies had gone through. Which didn't mean that they wouldn't eventually end up finding him, but it did mean there were tributes that were closer.

"I just hope they're smart enough to keep track of where they are," observed Oliver, who had apparently been listening. "Rooms like that, no natural light, stone wall all around – it wouldn't be hard to lose track of where they are, or where they've been."

Felix nodded. The boy had a point – and plenty of experience. Oliver's own arena had been a mostly underground giant prairie dog town. Last year had been a hospital, and the year before that a giant anthill. Apparently, disorienting arenas were in fashion.

"At least the rooms don't all look alike," Sabine offered hopefully. "A wardrobe, a giant cauldron, an armory."

Felix smiled. Of course the armory had caught her attention. Vashti and Mariska had found their way into the room, filled mostly with giant suits of armor. But a few of the smaller pieces might prove to be useful to them. And the two of them had picked up a kill, as had Margo and Annemae. All in all, the Career districts seemed to be doing quite well.

He just hoped it would stay that way.

Mariska Vasile, 16
District Eight

She just hoped it would be enough.

Mariska watched as Vashti circled the room again, almost smiling as he took in the sight. Suits of armor lined the walls, and rows of giant suits spread across the whole room. None of those were going to be particularly useful, of course; they were far too large. But scattered on the floor were smaller bits of armor. Arm guards, shin guards, gloves, and even a few helmets. It was as if the Gamemakers had planned for them to find this place.

Maybe they had. Maybe that was why they'd been positioned near the door that had led to this room. Or maybe there were several of these rooms throughout the arena. The castle. It was fairly obvious now even from the inside that that was what the arena was. The throne. The suits of armor. The stony walls. Why everything was so large, she wasn't really sure. Maybe it was simply to give them more room to spread out.

Or maybe it was something else. There had been giant-sized arenas before. An anthill. A prairie dog town. Even a whole giant town. That had been years ago, but they still showed footage of it, and it always made the tributes look so … so small. So insignificant.

Maybe that was the point – to remind them that even the most prepared, even the toughest of them were truly out of their league. Mariska scoffed at the thought. As if they needed to be constantly reminded that they were at the Gamemakers' mercy. Or maybe it was really to remind the audience, or to remind the districts.

"Something funny?" Vashti asked, circling back to her with an armful of supplies.

Mariska shook her head. "Just thinking," she offered, trying to cover her slip. "Quite a coincidence – us finding this place."

Vashti shrugged. "There are probably several of these rooms. If I was designing a castle – or an arena, for that matter – I certainly wouldn't want to put all the armor in one place. Which is probably why there aren't any weapons here, either. There's probably another room with those somewhere."

"That would be a nice one to find," Mariska pointed out. "Wonder who got that lucky."

"No way of knowing," Vashti admitted. "And maybe no one yet. But we can't count on that. And the Careers obviously have weapons, as well as anyone else who took them from the bloodbath."

"Not the girl we ran into," Mariksa observed. While Vashti had been searching the room, she'd made quick work of looking through the girl's pack. Their pack now. There were a few packs of crackers, a water bottle, and several strips of bandages. No weapons, but it was still a good start. And with the armor they'd found…

Vashti dumped the supplies at his feet and began strapping some of the armor on. "There's plenty for you, too," he offered.

Mariska hesitated. She didn't need it as much as he did, but if there was plenty extra, she didn't really have a good reason to say no. She quickly strapped on a pair of shin guards. They were surprisingly light, as were the armguards and the breastplate. A pair of gloves topped off the ensemble, but Mariska hesitated when she picked up the helmet. "Are we going to be able to see if we put these on?"

"Probably not as well," Vashti conceded. "So I'd keep the visor up until something happens."

Mariska shook her head, tucking the helmet into the pack. "I think I'll just keep it in here for now."

Vashti shrugged. "Suit yourself." He put his own helmet on – a simple metal dome with a chin guard and a visor. He slipped the visor down, testing his vision. After a moment, he apparently decided against it, and lifted the visor again. "If something happens, I can always put it down again, I suppose."

Mariska nodded. The important thing was that they had at least some protection. They had some food, some water, and some defense if any of the other tributes happened to find them. Not that it was likely to do them any good against the Careers, but it might deter some of the weaker tributes.

Tributes like the girl they'd killed.

Margo Devereaux, 18
District Two

They had killed a girl.

Margo shook her head, trying to focus as she and Mae explored the room they'd found themselves in. All around them was an assortment of what looked to be large gold coins, illuminated by the candlelight coming from the walls. It was a treasure room, but that wasn't likely to do them much good. Unless they could use it to buy sponsor gifts.

Margo chuckled a little at the thought. Mae looked up, confused. "Something funny?"

"No, I was just thinking … all this treasure, and there's not really anything we can do with it. Back in District Two, this would be enough to buy anything we wanted. Here…"

"Here, it's just a pile of useless stuff," Mae agreed. "Maybe there's something buried under all the gold."

The two of them started digging, but there didn't seem to be much that would be useful. Not that they were in desperate need of supplies. After they'd killed the girl from Twelve, they'd grabbed a pair of backpacks from the bloodbath. Inside were a handful of bandages, a bag of nuts, a pair of water bottles, an extra pair of socks, some rope, and some dried meat. Enough to keep them going for a while. Still, it would be nice to find something in one of the piles in front of them.

After digging for a while, they finally found a few things that might be useful. They'd each taken a few weapons from the bloodbath; between the two of them, they had several knives, a spear, a sickle, and a pair of daggers. In the pile, they found a jewel-studded dagger, a scepter, and a goblet. Mae raised an eyebrow when she saw the goblet, but Margo shrugged and tucked it inside her bag anyway. Maybe it would be useful if they wanted to boil water or something.

Mae's expression, however, was still one of confusion. "What?" Margo asked. "It's not like it's that heavy, anyway."

Mae shook her head. "No, it's not that. Do you hear something?"

Margo listened for a moment. She did hear something. Almost a kind of squawking sound, coming from nearby. Some kind of bird outside a window, maybe? Were they that close to the outside of the castle? They had no way of knowing, really, without going to check it out.

"Maybe we should go see what it is," Mae said, but buried in that suggestion was a question. She was wondering whether they should go see what it was, or whether it was some sort of trap. It wasn't unheard of for the Gamemakers to lure tributes to their deaths with something that seemed relatively harmless, only for it to turn on them.

But surely it was a bit early in the Games for that. And they'd been doing quite well so far. They'd picked up a kill together in the bloodbath before making it out with supplies; that was more than most tributes had done. Sure, they hadn't gone after the Careers, but the audience hadn't really been expecting them to do that, had they? Despite their relatively high training scores, there were only two of them. Considering that, they were doing quite well.

"Let's go have a look," Margo agreed, and the pair of them headed in the direction of the sound. The next room was dark. Almost completely dark. There were no candles. No windows. The only light came from the other rooms, filtering through the doors.

But that was enough to see the cages. Large, metal bird cages. And inside them were some equally large birds. Their feathers were black, their beaks long and sharp. Crows? Ravens? They seemed a bit large to be either.

Mae took a step closer to one of the birds, which backed away in its cage, squawking loudly. "Maybe we shouldn't stay here," Margo suggested, her voice shaking a little more than she would have liked. "Those sounds are bound to attract attention. And we don't want that."

But a smile was growing on Mae's face. She turned to Margo, grinning.

"Maybe we do."

Kilian Romane, 17
District Eleven

Maybe they'd made a mistake, after all.

Kilian glanced at Shanali and Ronan as the three of them headed into the next room. There didn't seem to be anyone in the room with all the clothes. In fact, he hadn't seen anyone since they'd run from the bloodbath. What if that had been a mistake? Should they have stayed and fought? Maybe. Or maybe they should simply have kept better track of where the other groups had gone. It wouldn't take much for them to overpower another tribute or two if they managed to find someone. And maybe that would make up for accomplishing nothing in the bloodbath.

Kilian shook the thought from his head. They'd made it out alive. They had weapons. They had some supplies. That wasn't nothing. Sure, none of them had made a kill, but would the audience really be expecting them to? It wasn't as if they were Careers, after all.

Then again, most of the Careers weren't really Careers. But from the sound of the cannons, they'd certainly been acting like a Career pack. There had been seven cannons at the start of the Games. That was a fifth of the tributes already dead. Just like that.

Kilian shuddered. At least Wes had made it out. His group had run through the door shortly before Ronan had caught up to them. Where they might have gone after that, Kilian wasn't sure. He hoped they hadn't gone the same way the three of them were going now. If they had – if they ended up having to fight – Kilian wasn't sure what he would do. He wasn't particularly close to Wes. They hadn't spent much time together on the train or during training. But they were still from the same district. That counted for something.

Kilian held his breath as they made their way into the next room. It didn't look like anyone was there. It took him a moment to figure out what was there. At first, it looked like a series of wooden pillars, but then he looked up. The pillars were really the legs of several large beds, which rose high above their heads. Ladders led to the tops of the beds, barely visible from down below.

Kilian turned to Ronan, about to suggest that maybe they could climb up and see if there was anything useful. Ronan, however, was eyeing a staircase on the other side of the room. "I wonder if that leads out," he muttered.

"Out?" Shanali asked.

"Out of the building," Ronan clarified. "If we can get outside – or at least to the top of the building – we might get a better feel for the arena. What do you think?"

Shanali shrugged. "Worth a shot. Kilian?"

"Why not?" He could think of several good reasons why not. The Gamemakers didn't take too kindly to tributes who tried to make their way out of confined arenas. But surely they would be able to tell from what Ronan had said that they weren't interested in escaping the arena – just being able to tell where they were inside of it.

The three of them made their way to the other side of the room and started up the staircase – a staircase that was far too large for them. Each step reached to his waist, and the steps wound their way around in circles up the tower. Up, up, up. Higher and higher. Kilian's limbs ached by the time they finally reached the top, pushing their way through a door in the ceiling. Slowly, the three of them helped each other out into the open air, and Kilian's breath caught in his throat once he looked up.

It was a castle. He'd guessed that much from the throne room that had served as the cornucopia, but he hadn't realized just how huge the castle was. They were atop one of five towers that reached towards the sky. The castle was surrounded by a moat, and most of the land around it seemed to be a rocky wasteland. In the distance was a forest, but that was probably there more for scenery than to actually serve as a shelter. There was no way to reach it – not without swimming the moat, and that wasn't the most appealing prospect.

"Looks like we're the only ones who've found our way up here," Ronan observed. The other towers seemed rather barren; if there were tributes who had made their way to the tops, they were doing a better job of staying hidden.

"Think this is a good place for lunch?" Shanali asked casually, as if they had their choice of places to settle down. Maybe they did. But they certainly couldn't have picked a better view.

They broke out the supplies Ronan had managed to swipe from the bloodbath. Inside were several generous portions of bread, meat, and cheese, as well as four bottles of water and a coil of rope. "Nice," Kilian whistled, grinning as Ronan passed around some of the food. This would be enough to keep them going for a while. And then… Later. He could worry about that later.

Right now, he was hungry.

Aleyn Tillens, 15
District Four

She was starting to get hungry.

Aleyn glanced around at Wes, Charu, and Consus as they crept out of the closet. Ronan and the pair from Eleven had passed them by without a second thought, which was just fine by her. She certainly didn't want to go after her district partner, and she was sure Wes felt the same. Eventually, of course, they would have to go after someone. But it didn't have to be right this instant. And it didn't have to be someone they knew.

"Where do you think we should go?" Charu asked in a whisper, as if someone might come bursting through the door to the room at any moment. Which was a possibility, of course, but if the Careers were going to come this way, wouldn't they have done it by now?

"Maybe we should just stay here," Consus offered, his voice low.

Charu raised an eyebrow. "Here?"

"Why not? We have somewhere to hide if the Careers come. We're close to the cornucopia, so we might be able to sneak in and grab something if we get desperate. I don't think we're likely to find a better spot."

Wes shook his head. "I think we should keep moving. There are bound to be more supplies somewhere, and what happens if the Careers who might be at the cornucopia get restless? The nearest rooms will be the first place they'll look."

Charu nodded, then turned to Aleyn. "What do you think?"

Aleyn hesitated. She wanted to stay put. The closet had seemed safe, at least. Hidden. That was what she really wanted to do. She wanted to hide. She wanted to crawl up somewhere safe and stay there until the Games were over.

But…

But that wouldn't protect them forever. And it wouldn't help them find food. "Maybe we should have one more look around before leaving," she suggested. "We can see if any of these clothes are a bit smaller, and keep them for later. Or maybe we can make some sort of bags out of the larger ones."

Consus nodded. "Exactly. Maybe there's no food here, but at least there's something we can use. We can always keep going later."

Later. That certainly sounded good. Consus seemed to be making the assumption, though, that there would be a later. If they didn't do something…

Aleyn shook the thought from her head. They had done something. They had gotten out of the bloodbath alive and unscathed – no small feat considering there were four of them. Maybe they hadn't gotten any kills, but they hadn't lost anyone, either. That was something.

And there had already been seven cannons. Whether they had personally done something or not, the audience was certainly getting their fill of blood and gore. The Gamemakers would probably leave them alone for a while before deciding to force some of the groups together.

But it was only a matter of time.

The four of them began to sort through the clothes. Most of them were large, but they found a few smaller robes, as well as several oversized pairs of socks that could be used as bags in a pinch. If only they had something to put in those bags.

Aleyn held her tongue as they kept sorting. They weren't likely to find any food hidden among the clothes. But there would be time for that later. It was only the first day of the Games. Only the first few hours, really. They would have time to find food and water later. They didn't have to worry about that right now. But eventually…

Eventually, they would have to make a move.

Klaudia Almasy, 18
District Eight

They probably wouldn't have to move for a while.

Klaudia barely held back a gasp as she, Skyton, and Connor finally stopped long enough to get a look around. They were in a large room, the walls lined with barrels. Some of the tops of the barrels were ajar, revealing stores of food. Fruit, vegetables, dried meat, cheese, bread … all there for the taking.

So what was the catch?

Klaudia eyed the food curiously as Connor and Skyton began opening the barrels. "Wait," she said quietly, but they didn't. They simply dug in, eating their fill. Klaudia waited. Waited. It was only once her lungs started to ache that she realized she was holding her breath. She let it out, then took another breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Because it always did, sooner or later. Nothing in the Games could be this easy. There simply couldn't be this much food, this far away from the cornucopia. What was the point? Why would the Gamemakers put it here?

It was Skyton who noticed that she hadn't started eating. "What's wrong?" he asked, confused. "Don't tell me you're not hungry."

Klaudia opened her mouth to say something, but Connor immediately whirled around, startled. "You don't think the food is—"

"What?" Skyton asked.

"Poisoned?"

Skyton thought for a moment. "Wouldn't we have noticed by now if it was?"

"Maybe. Or maybe not," Klaudia offered. "Depends on what it was poisoned with."

"If it was poisoned with anything," Skyton pointed out. "We don't know that."

"We don't know it wasn't, either," Connor objected.

Skyton shrugged. "If it was, it's a bit late now, don't you think? We already ate quite a bit."

"We did," Connor agreed, eyeing Klaudia. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Klaudia's face grew red. "I … I don't know. We don't know anything for sure."

"But you suspected."

"I guess."

Skyton stepped between the two of them. "Calm down, Connor. There's probably nothing wrong with the food. Why would they put all of it here just to poison it?"

"Why would they put all of it here in the first place?" Connor demanded.

"It's probably nothing," Skyton repeated. "We're just jumpy because Arabel—"

But he didn't finish the sentence. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe he didn't want to admit it to himself. Arabel was dead, and none of them had done a thing about it. None of them could have done anything. She had been too far away, clear on the other side of the room. Even if they'd wanted to try to reach her, they probably wouldn't have made it in time.

Probably.

For a moment, Connor said nothing. Then he nodded a little. "I didn't expect…"

"None of us did," Skyton agreed. "I mean, I just figured that if someone was going to die first, it would be me." He chuckled a little. "Guess I was wrong."

"Guess you were," Connor agreed. "And I'm glad."

Skyton blinked. "You mean it?"

"That I'm glad you survived? Yeah. Both of you. Arabel's gone, but the three of us have a better chance together than we would on our own, right?"

Klaudia nodded a little. He was right about that. And if it turned out that the food was okay to eat, they would have enough to last them quite a while. Skyton and Connor returned to sorting through the food, and Klaudia took a few hesitant steps closer. She was hungry. But not quite hungry enough to chance it.

Not yet.

Ti Bulgur, 14
District Nine

They didn't have to make a decision yet.

Ti paced across the room as the noises from the next room over died down. Apparently, the tributes in the next room had found some sort of food. Food they weren't entirely sure was safe to eat. Ti sighed. That was better than what he and Retro had found. Barrels. Lots and lots of barrels. Some large, some small, and most of them empty. Apparently, it was some sort of storage room, but at the moment, it seemed to be mostly storing cobwebs.

At least the cobwebs were a normal size. That was something. They didn't have to worry about giant spiders running around all over the place. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen any animals. Ti glanced over at Retro, who was looking through a few more barrels. "Shouldn't there be some sort of animals?"

Retro looked up, confused. "What?"

"A castle this size – it should have some sort of animals. Rats or something, right? Mice? At least some insects crawling around."

Retro shuddered. "Don't give them any ideas, Ti."

Ti chuckled nervously. Retro was right; the Gamemakers certainly didn't need more ideas for mutts. But surely they'd already thought of that. There were probably animals somewhere. And animals meant food.

Then again, they already knew there was food in the next room. "How long do you think it'll take them to figure out whether the food is safe?" Retro asked quietly, careful not to let his voice carry to the next room. They'd been able to hear the other tributes for a while, but one of the boys had been shouting. Now … now they could only guess. There hadn't been any cannons, so they were still alive.

Ti shrugged. "Not long, probably. If there is something in the food, they'd want it to act quickly, right?"

"Maybe."

"So if they're still alive by tonight…"

"You think we should take some?" Retro was catching on quickly.

"Why not? They're not likely to miss it. Sounds like they have plenty."

"We don't have any weapons."

"You think they do?" From the sound of the voices, the tributes were the boys from Ten and the older girl from Eight. He hadn't seen any of them grabbing weapons. Then again, he hadn't seen much after David…

David was dead. He'd been trying to avoid the thought, but now … Ti took a deep breath. David was dead. He and Retro were still alive. That wasn't quite how he'd expected things to go. He'd assumed that Retro, being the youngest, would be the most likely to die first. But age didn't seem to mean all that much now. The three tributes in the next room were all older than them, but if they could sneak in without them noticing, then they'd have a chance.

A chance at stealing some food, not at killing the three of them. He wasn't stupid. They weren't likely to all go to sleep at once. They would leave someone awake, but probably only one person. It wouldn't be that hard to sneak in when it got dark…

Ti almost burst out laughing at the thought. "What?" Retro asked, surprised that Ti was chuckling.

"I was just thinking that once it got dark, we could sneak in and get some food, but—"

"But it's not going to get dark," Retro finished. "Because we're inside, and there aren't any windows."

"Not in this room, at least," Ti agreed. "I guess we'll know it's nighttime when we hear the anthem, but aside from that, there's not really a way to tell day and night apart. So the middle of the day is just as good a time to sneak around as midnight."

Retro smiled a little. "So you think we should try to get something now?"

Ti shook his head. "No, we should probably still wait a little while. Until we're sure the food is safe to eat, or until some of them fall asleep. But if their room is as dim as it is in here, we shouldn't have any problem sneaking in and getting what we need." More importantly, there wasn't any rush. Now that they knew where the food was, they wouldn't have to take a lot at once. They could come back every now and then to get more.

Retro nodded. "Sounds like we've got a plan, then."

A plan. Yes, it did sound like a plan. Ti clapped Retro on the shoulder.

"I think we do."

Emmett Darsier, 18
District Four

Now he would have time to come up with a plan.

Emmett took a deep breath as the door slammed shut behind him. The room was dark – very dark. But that was a good thing, as long as there were no other tributes inside. He hadn't seen anyone else running this way, but there was no way of knowing whether this was the only way in or out of this particular room. The room he'd just passed through, after all, had several doorways leading out of it.

Emmett closed his eyes, then opened them again. It didn't make much of a difference, really. The room was almost pitch black, the only light filtering in through a small window high above his head. There were bars on the window. Some sort of a cell, perhaps. Maybe a dungeon.

Perfect.

Emmett stretched his legs and started to make his way around the room. In one corner, there was a large wooden table. Emmett slid his hand along the table until his fingers found something. It was a small, thin blade – almost a scalpel, really. Maybe it wasn't much, but it was a start. And it was a real weapon, which had to count for something. It was certainly more useful than the fake daggers at the cornucopia.

Suddenly, his foot brushed against something. Emmett looked down, and nearly burst out laughing. Lying on the ground under the table was an assortment of chains, whips, knives, and other instruments. It seemed this was a dungeon, after all, and a rather nasty one at that. Emmett bent down, lifting one of the chains gingerly. The clanking sound filled the room, echoing off the walls.

His hands were shaking as he laid the chain on the table, then lifted several of the other instruments in turn. It hadn't been an accident – the Gamemakers positioning him near the door that would lead in this direction. It was too perfect to be a coincidence. They knew what he was capable of, even if he hadn't accomplished anything in the bloodbath. They knew what he would be able to do with these weapons – these tools – if he got the chance.

Emmett clenched his fists. He couldn't blame them, really. The audience wanted blood and gore, and he could give them that. Part of him even wanted to. Part of him wanted the feeling of blood on his knife, of another person's flesh beneath his hands. He had always been good at this.

And it had always ended badly.

Emmett took a deep breath. Everything in the Games ended badly. There were no happy endings – not for the Victors who came out, and certainly not for the tributes who died. There was no scenario where he would come out of the Games happy and content, at peace with himself and the things he had done. So he might as well do what had to be done.

But not just yet. He would have time – time to prepare for anyone else who might happen to stumble into the room. It was only a matter of time before someone else decided to come this way. And when they did, he would be ready.

Maybe he had always been ready.

Merrik Haims, 15
District Three

He would never be ready for this.

Merrik took a deep breath as he and Dinah entered the next room – a room filled with oversized beds. The last room had contained mostly rather large barrels, and for a while the two of them had considered staying there and using the barrels as a place to hide. But it had seemed a bit too close to the cornucopia for his liking, and it hadn't taken long to convince Dinah that it would be best for the two of them to keep going.

The two of them. Merrik barely contained a nervous giggle at the thought. After they'd decided on the train that it would be best if they didn't work together, he and Dinah hadn't really spoken much. And yet here they were, working together. Or at least walking together. Maybe she was grateful that he'd pulled her away from the bloodbath. Maybe she was simply happy to have any company, now that her ally was gone.

And so was his. Lena hadn't been counting on his help, of course – not after what had happened during their private sessions. And maybe it was better this way – better that she had died sooner rather than later. Better that it had been quick. She was dead; there was nothing more they could do to her.

But he was still alive. The Gamemakers certainly could go after him, if they wanted. Unless he gave them a reason not to. He'd tried to do that during the interviews, of course. Tried to persuade them that the incident during training had been Lena's idea, not his own. Apparently, it had worked – at least for now. But how long would it take before they decided they needed to deal with him, too?

And what would happen to Dinah then?

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Merrik asked at last, quietly.

Dinah turned. "What? This room?"

"No … Us. Working together."

"Why not? Because of what happened during your private session? Everyone knows that was your ally's fault." She said it loudly, clearly as much for the audience's sake as for his.

Merrik nodded weakly. She had no idea. She didn't understand why else the Capitol might want to target him, and he didn't dare say it aloud. He had no way to warn her that the Gamemakers might have another reason to make him a target. They'd already made an example out of Lena. If they decided he was a danger, too…

Merrik swallowed hard. He didn't want to leave Dinah. But he also didn't want to put her in danger. If there was a target on his back, he didn't want her to get caught in the crossfire. She didn't deserve that.

No one did.

Suddenly, there was a sound from the next room. A rustling noise. "Someone's coming!" Dinah hissed, putting an end to their conversation.

Merrik froze, glancing at one door out of the room, and then another. One led back the way they had come. Two lay more or less to their right, and there was a staircase to their left, leading up. "Staircase," Merrik hissed. "It's our best chance. Someone else won't want to come that way."

But Dinah was already looking up at the beds. "Let's climb up there. We can see who it is. If it's someone we think we can take, we can ambush them. If not, we can hide under the blankets."

Merrik stared. What? How was she planning to get up there? The beds were feet above their heads. But as he watched, she started clambering up one of the giant ladders at the foot of the nearest bed.

Merrik's heart raced. The noises were getting closer. He had to make a choice. He didn't want to fight. And he certainly didn't want to get caught climbing up the ladder if someone happened to come in at the wrong moment.

He sprinted for the stairs.

"Merrik!" Dinah's whisper echoed off the stone walls. He climbed up one stair, then another. They were large – large enough that anyone at the bottom of the stairs wouldn't be able to see him anymore. He could wait here. After a moment, he couldn't hear Dinah's voice anymore.

It was the perfect place to hide.

Mae Swenson, 13
District One

There didn't seem to be anyone hiding nearby.

Mae shook her head as the others kept searching through the barrels. They'd found wine, ale, beer, and just about every other kind of drink they might want, but no tributes. Maybe that wasn't particularly surprising. If she was trying to hide from a group of Careers, she certainly wouldn't pick somewhere so close to the cornucopia. Well, the throne that was acting as their cornucopia. She would want to get as far away from the Careers as possible.

But that wasn't the position she was in. She was part of the Career pack. She and Genevieve had killed a boy. The first kill of the Games, if she wasn't mistaken. She had just as much a right to be part of the pack as any of them; they'd all proven that during the bloodbath. All of them deserved to be here.

But only one of them would make it out.

Suddenly, there was a noise coming from the other room. A whisper. She couldn't quite make out the words, but it was definitely a voice. The others perked up, as well. Immediately, Macauley made a move towards the door, but Etora stepped in her way. "Wait," she hissed.

Macauley raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because if the five of us go charging in there, whoever's there is going to run."

Macauley shrugged. "So we'll chase them."

"And maybe lose them," reasoned Justus, who was following Etora's logic. "But if only one or two of us go in – maybe one or two of us who don't look quite so intimidating…"

He let the end of that sentence go, but it was obvious who he meant. Etora grinned. "You and me, Mae?"

Mae hesitated. "You want to use us as bait?"

Etora smirked, holding up one of the dagger she'd taken from the pile under the throne. "This bait has some bite to it. We're all armed, and they'll be right behind us in case there's a larger group. But from the sound of it, there aren't a lot of them."

She was probably right about that. She'd heard one voice – and only briefly, at that. "Quickly," Etora whispered. "Before they decide to leave, anyway."

Mae turned her own cleaver over in her hands, glancing at the other Careers. They were watching her. Waiting to see how she would respond. Killing during the bloodbath was one thing. That had been a spur of the moment decision. This … this was calculated. That should have made it easier. It made sense. Everything that Etora was suggesting made sense.

So why was she so nervous?

Dinah Peralta, 18
District Three

There was no reason to be nervous.

Dinah glanced down from her perch on top of one of the beds. Partially hidden under the blankets, but mostly relying on the fact that it was quite dark in the room. There were candles, but there were few of them, and it was a pretty big room. The light didn't really reach all the way up to the top of the beds.

They were higher, too, than they'd looked from the floor. The idea of jumping down to the floor to ambush another tribute was quickly losing its appeal. Maybe Merrik had been right about running. But she was probably just as safe up here as he was on the stairs. Maybe more so. Would anyone who came into the room really think to look up here? Stairs, on the other hand … that seemed a rather natural place to look for stragglers.

Suddenly, she could see a little movement by the door. A tribute – no, two tributes. Two of the younger girls.

Two of the younger Careers.

Dinah froze. If these two were here, the others wouldn't be far behind. They had been part of the pack, after all. Certainly they wouldn't have split up this soon. They usually hunted together as a pack. If only two of them had decided to explore the room, there had to be a reason.

It had to be a trap.

She wasn't about to take the bait. Attacking even one of the girls would have certainly been a bad idea. Two of them was out of the question, especially when it would involve jumping down from her perch atop the bed onto the stone floor below. No, her best bet was to stay where she was and hope that the Careers would simply move along.

Right.

They'd heard her, probably. Calling for Merrik earlier. They knew she couldn't have gone far. It was only a matter of time before one of them thought to look up here, and then…

Then what? If they decided to climb up onto the bed, she would have the advantage – at least for a little while. If they tried to shoot her, she could probably hide. And neither of the girls seemed to have a bow.

Neither of these two. There was no telling what the others might have. Dinah held her breath, waiting. The two girls looked around, probably trying to look casual. It wasn't working. Despite their age, no one in the audience would see them as anything but Careers. They were killers. They were dangerous.

And they had seen her.

She was sure of it now. One of them had glanced up at the bed. Only briefly, but it was long enough. Long enough for Dinah to be certain she'd been spotted. The girl was trying not to let on that she'd seen Dinah, but was clearly whispering to her companion, who nodded a little. One of them turned and headed back towards the door the two of them had come from – maybe relaying a message to their companions. Dinah ducked lower on the bed, but she already knew it wasn't going to do any good.

She was trapped.

Justus Freeman, 17
District One

The girl was trapped.

Justus grinned as he, Genevieve, and Macauley followed Mae into the next room, where Etora was still keeping an eye on the bed above, making sure that the girl didn't try anything. Clearly, she knew better. She was lying there on top of the bed, waiting for … what? For someone to come and save her? Her only ally was dead. But then who had she been whispering to before? Maybe she'd found someone else.

Not that it mattered much now. He didn't see anyone else. If she had been working with someone, they were probably long gone by now. Justus glanced around at the others. None of them had thought to grab a bow from the pile of weapons at the throne. They'd just assumed that ranged weapons would be much use indoors. But there was more than one way to skin a cat, particularly when it decided to perch so high.

Justus shot the girl a grin, fingering the axe he had grabbed from the pile. The girl sat up a little, tense, as he approached one of the legs of the giant bed. Trying to climb up would give the girl an advantage. It would be better to get her to come down – one way or another.

Justus swung, the axe chopping into the wood. Not much. It would take a little while to bring the bed down. But they weren't exactly pressed for time. They could afford to wait. It would be even better, though, if the girl decided to do something rash.

For a moment, it seemed like she wasn't going to. Like she was just going to stay up there and wait for the bed to fall. Suddenly, in one motion, she leapt down from the bed, aiming for the nearest target. Etora, however, was quicker. She stepped out of the way, allowing the girl to land in front of her.

'Land' was a generous term. The girl struck the floor hard, screaming in pain. She tried to get to her feet, but part of a bone was sticking out of one of her legs. Etora took a step towards the girl, but then turned to Mae. "You're the one who spotted her. Would you like to do the honors?"

"Honors?" the girl growled. "You take one step closer, and I'll show you honors."

Mae took a step back. "You can do it."

Etora shrugged and stepped towards the older girl, who was still struggling, trying to get to her feet. She had spirit; he had to give her that. But it wasn't enough to save her. She tried to grab at Etora's hand as the dagger sliced at her throat, but one slash was enough. Etora gave the girl's body a kick, and she toppled backwards as the cannon sounded. Justus nodded, satisfied.

Just then, the anthem began to play.

Nephelle Sorena, 17
District Seven

The anthem caught her off-guard.

It hadn't seemed that long since the bloodbath. A few hours, at most. But maybe she had lost track of time. The anthem sounded off the walls of the room as Nephelle crouched lower beneath the table. It hadn't taken her long to find this room, and now that she had, she certainly didn't want to leave. There was a large table and chairs – large enough for a feast – but, more importantly, there was only one way in or out. Only one door to watch. As long as she kept watching that door…

At least no one would catch her by surprise. Of course, there wasn't much she would be able to do if a pack of Careers came streaming through that door. But at least they weren't likely to sneak up on her. And it had seemed like a good place to wait for the others.

The others. If they were still alive. She had run from the bloodbath without much more than a second glance. She had left Thomas fighting the boy from One, and Aven clear on the other side of the room, trying to reach them. She could have waited. She could have tried to help them. Instead, she had no idea whether they were alive.

But that wouldn't last long. The faces – wherever they appeared – would tell her whether they were still out there somewhere, at least. Slowly, Nephelle crept out from under the table and glanced up at the ceiling. That was usually where the faces appeared in indoor arenas.

Sure enough, the faces began to appear. The first belonged to one of the older boys from Two. The nurse – she remembered that from the interviews. Nephelle shook her head. He hadn't been far away from her during the bloodbath. Whoever had killed him, she was probably lucky they hadn't gone after her, instead.

Next was the girl from Three, followed by one of the girls from Four. Then the girl from Six – the one who had told everyone after her what to expect from the private sessions. Nephelle fought back a twinge of guilt. Had her own score benefited from what Lena had told them? She had no way of knowing, really.

Maybe it didn't matter. A high score hadn't been what had helped her escape the bloodbath. She had run. She had put her own survival before her allies. And she couldn't help wondering what it was going to cost her…

Nephelle swallowed hard, fighting back a lump in her throat as Thomas' face appeared next. He had needed her help, after all. Part of her had known, when he hadn't caught up to her, that he probably hadn't made it out alive, but she had been hoping, nonetheless. Now that hope was gone.

Then Aven's face appeared, and Nephelle couldn't hold back her tears anymore. Aven was dead. Thomas was dead. She was alone – all alone in the arena. That was what would have had to happen eventually, of course, but she hadn't been ready for it to happen now.

The last two faces belonged to the pair from Twelve. And that was it. The last faces faded from the ceiling, and Nephelle ducked back under the table. There was no point in waiting now. No one was coming to help her.

She was all alone.

Barlen Rimmonn, 13
District Nine

He was all alone.

Barlen barely stifled a sob as he buried his face in his sleeve. Leo was dead. He had known that, of course, before seeing his friend's face on the ceiling. He would never forget the look in Leo's eyes. He was sure of that.

And he wished he could. Barlen shook his head, rocking back and forth where he sat. The one thing he wished he could forget was the one thing he was certain would stay with him forever. Leo was dead. Leo had died to save him. His friend was dead, and he was still alive.

But how long would that last? How long could it last? He'd been counting on Leo to help him. To remind him of what to do, of what was going on. Now Leo was gone.

What was he supposed to do?

Barlen took a deep breath, his legs shaky as he finally stood up. There was no point in staying here any longer. He was still close to the cornucopia. At least, he was pretty sure he was. There was a large cauldron in the center of the room, and he was almost certain he'd come through the nearest door. He turned and headed for the other one.

Just as he did, however, he saw something near the doorway. A body. It belonged to a girl, and she looked familiar. He couldn't see much in the dim light, but as he got a little closer…

Oh.

It was one of his district partners. What was her name? He was pretty sure it started with an 'A.' He brushed the hair away from her face. Her head was covered in blood – blood that was no longer warm. What had happened to her?

Whatever had happened, he certainly didn't want to go that way. Barlen hurried around to the other side of the cauldron and through a different doorway, slamming the door behind him. To his relief, there was no cornucopia in sight. Instead, the light from the candles on the wall bounced off an array of instruments. Some large, some small, all shining brightly. A smile finally crept back onto Barlen's face. He'd never played an instrument before, and he might never get another chance…

He made his way to one of the larger instruments and plucked a string. It made a low strumming sound. He plucked it a little harder, and the sound got louder. Another string made a slightly higher sound, another a little lower. Barlen reached up to pluck one of the shorter strings, and a higher pitch echoed through the room.

After a moment, he strummed several of the strings quickly, one after the other. A low note, a high note, then a few notes in between. Listening to the sound, it almost sounded familiar. Maybe something he'd heard in a dream.

Barlen reached up and plucked another string. He wanted to remember more. The music … it sounded like it belonged somewhere else. Another place. Maybe even another time. And that was what he wanted more than anything right now – to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Maybe if he wished hard enough, all of this would be a dream.

Maybe if he kept playing, it would wake him up.

Basil Thatch
District Nine Mentor

"Want me to wake you when someone finds him?"

Basil shook his head, stretching his arms as he took a seat beside Duke on the couch. "Thanks for the offer, but no. I think I can manage to stay awake a little longer. Probably won't take long." It was only a matter of time before the music attracted another tribute or two in the area. They might be wary of music, considering what had happened during the last quell, but that wouldn't keep them from investigating forever.

Duke nodded a little. "I guess not," he agreed. "But that's why you picked him, right?"

Basil's face grew warm. He wanted to deny it, but he'd all but said as much at the reaping. Don't get your hopes up, and you won't be disappointed. Those were his words, but now … He was disappointed. Despite himself, he'd gotten his hopes up. He liked Barlen. He was a good kid. He didn't deserve…

"Yeah," Basil agreed reluctantly.

Duke snorted. "Doesn't make it any easier, does it."

"No."

"Maybe you could send him a message. At least tell him to stop playing that damn harp," Duke mumbled.

Basil chuckled. "Look, maybe our tributes don't rebel on a regular basis, but that doesn't mean sponsors are flocking to District Nine, Duke. Especially not to support a kid who can only occasionally remember what he ate for breakfast. Sure, the audience thinks he's cute, but that doesn't mean they're ready to fork over the resources it'll take to keep him alive."

"Maybe I can help with that," came a voice from behind them.

Basil turned, startled, to see Vester standing behind the couch. For a moment, Basil said nothing. He'd assumed, with Leo dead, that Vester would be sitting around reminiscing with the older Victors, or maybe even leaving entirely. It was no secret that he hadn't really wanted to be here, that he hadn't mentored since the last Quarter Quell.

Finally, Basil found his voice. "What do you mean?"

"My name still has some pull with the sponsors," Vester explained. "If we work together, we might be able to scrape up enough sponsors to send him something. Nothing elaborate, mind you, but something small."

"Why?"

"To help keep him alive."

"No, I mean … Why do you want to help him, rather than helping the other tributes from your district?"

Vester laid a hand on Basil's shoulder, and he almost shrank away. Almost. Instead, he forced himself to meet Vester's gaze. The Hunger Games' first Victor smiled sadly. "I think Leo would have wanted it. And since I can't send anything to him, I may as well be of use elsewhere. Besides," he added. "Do you think the other tributes from Two really need my help right now?"

He had a point. Margo and Annemae had made it away from the bloodbath with plenty of supplies. Etora had just earned a third kill, while Darian was sitting comfortably at the cornucopia with Elliot. The Careers didn't need Vester's help. Barlen did. He needed all the help he could get. Finally, Basil nodded. "What did you have in mind?"

Vester smiled. "There are two more people I think we should talk to."

"If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly."