Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.

Note: So I originally intended for my next update to be an X-Men one (I've been trying to alternate), but this chapter just sort of snuck up on me and ended up being easier to write. The next X-Men chapter is still coming, of course, but in the meantime, there's this. :)

The map on the website has been updated to include the underground portion of the castle. As with the other half of the map, more details will be added as the tunnels are explored, and there may be more entrances to be discovered. Also, anyone riding a griffin will just have an arrow pointing to the blue space above the map. I didn't feel it was necessary (or worth the effort) to make a separate map of the sky. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, just a friendly reminder to vote in the "favorite alliance" poll if you haven't already. A new one will be up along with the next chapter.

Day Two
Cling Together

Avery Bentham
District Three Mentor

At least it would be quick.

Avery held her breath as the griffin, with Skyton atop its back, circled lower in the sky. Closer and closer to the tower where Merrik stood, watching, his eyes wide. There was nowhere for him to go. He could try to scurry back down the stairs, of course, but Ronan, Shanali, and Kilian were still there. Even if they decided to spare him again, the Careers weren't far away. There was nowhere for him to run.

So maybe it was better if it ended quickly. If the Gamemakers had it in for him – and it certainly seemed like they did – then maybe it was better to get it over with now. Skyton, at least, would probably make it quick. It was just a matter of whether he would be able to hold himself together long enough to actually do it; he certainly didn't seem the sort to intentionally draw it out.

None of them did, really. Maybe Emmett, with the way he'd been eyeing the weapons in the dungeon, but he was gone now. No one else seemed like the kind of tribute who would make a death unnecessarily slow or cruel just for the fun of it. At least that was something. Maybe the audience would be disappointed, but…

Or maybe not. It wasn't always easy to predict how the audience would react to a tribute who tortured others unnecessarily. If the tributes were known rebels, of course, all bets were off. That was what had allowed the Gamemakers to deal so harshly with the tributes in her Games. They had been actively trying to rebel; the twelve of them had agreed not to kill each other. It was only once the Gamemakers had stepped in, sending mutts of the gods down on the Mount Olympus arena to separate and torture the tributes, that one of them had caved and agreed to kill the others.

She had caved. She had been the one to give in to their demands. So she had been allowed to live. She had killed the others. She had survived the arena, only to find that her family had already been executed for her actions.

The audience hadn't even batted an eyelid. But that was the exception. Her Games had been the exception that had paved the way for the Gamemakers to require additional tributes for the next nine Games. All those extra tributes – all those extra deaths – because the twelve of them had been foolish enough to think they could make a difference. More than a hundred deaths, all because of them. That blood was on their hands. On her hands. She was the only one left.

"Avery." It was only once Vester spoke that she realized he had an arm around her shoulders, and he was holding her tightly. She was shaking in his arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Avery," he repeated.

She nodded a little. "Yeah."

"Still with me?"

"Yeah." He knew better than to ask if she was all right. None of them were – even the ones who pretended to be.

"I'm sure he'll make it quick," Vester said quietly. It was all the comfort he could really offer. Merrik was as good as dead; he knew that as well as any of them. And he knew better than to offer her false hope.

Avery nodded. "I know. It's just…"

"Tell me about it."

He'd probably meant it rhetorically, but she blurted it out anyway. "I'm just glad there's no one in the Games who wouldn't make it quick for him."

Vester couldn't hide a wry smile. "You mean you're glad there's no one like me."

"That's not what I—"

"Isn't it?"

Avery said nothing. That wasn't quite what she'd meant, but he wasn't wrong. His Games had been just as much an exception to that rule as hers. He'd tortured the former rebel soldiers in his Games mercilessly, leaving them staked out in the sun to die of exposure after he'd finished with them. The audience, still bitter after the recent rebellion, had loved him for it, and the Capitol still played clips from his Games from time to time as a reminder to the rebels of what could happen if they dared to rise up again.

Apparently, it hadn't been enough of a reminder.

Vester shook his head. "Don't sweat it, kid. I'm glad there's no one like me in the Games right now. The audience doesn't really have a stomach for that sort of thing anymore – not unless they're convinced the tribute deserves it. What Merrik and Lena pulled during the private sessions was stupid and reckless, but not rebellious. The audience knows the difference."

Avery nodded a little. She hoped he was right. But she didn't have much faith in the audience's ability to tell the difference. Not after what had happened to so many people who had simply made a mistake, who had been a little too careless. Or who had cared too much. Avery's gaze strayed to Nicodemus as he wheeled himself over to the bar to fetch another round of drinks. She hoped Vester was right.

But she knew better than to count on it.

Merrik Haims, 15
District Three

He knew better than to hope the creature hadn't seen him.

Merrik ducked behind the nearest wall of the tower, but he knew better than to hope that would save him. The creature in the sky had already spotted him – and, more importantly, the figure riding on its back had seen him. The mutt hadn't quite gotten close enough for Merrik to see more than a shape on its back, but it was enough to know that someone was up there. Someone was hunting for prey.

And he was the only target available.

Merrik braced his back against the wall of the tower. There weren't a lot of options, and none of them were good. He could head back down the stairs and hope that no one was there. Hope that the Careers had moved on. That the other group of tributes had moved on. And that no one else had arrived. He could wait up here and hope that the creature would find someone else – anyone else. But a quick glance at the other towers revealed that wasn't a likely option. He could wait at the top of the tower and try to kill both the mutt and whoever was riding on its back before they could kill him. Also not a great plan. Or…

There was another option. It wasn't a good option, but none of his options at the moment were good ones. He took another step to his left, then another. He could feel the wind behind him.

He could make it look like an accident.

No one would know he'd done it on purpose.

It was better than being mauled to death by the creature that was quickly descending. It would be quicker, at least. Wouldn't it? It wasn't that long of a fall to the ground below. A few seconds, maybe. A few seconds, and it would all be over.

It was better that way.

Closer. Closer. He could see the creature's claws now. It opened its beak and let out a terrible shriek. Startled, Merrik took a step backwards, tumbling over the edge of the wall, hurtling towards the ground.

One second. Then another. Merrik closed his eyes as he fell. Suddenly, he felt a jolt – but not the sort of jolt he'd been expecting. He'd been expecting to hit the ground, but, instead, something soft and almost … almost feathery … was beneath him, lifting him up, little by little. Something that felt like a hand closed around his wrist, holding him tightly. "It's okay," came a voice. "You're all right. It's okay. We're not going to hurt you."

We?

Merrik opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. He was beside the other boy, on top of the mutt, and they were … flying. They were both flying. The beast hadn't killed him, and the boy hadn't let him die.

Why?

It didn't make any sense. The boy hadn't even had to kill him. He'd simply had to let him die. Let him keep falling. A few more seconds, and it would have been over. That would have been it. Merrik clung tightly to the creature's feathers as they landed on the tower – the same tower he'd stepped off of only moments before.

The other boy dismounted and tried to help Merrik off, but his legs gave way beneath him, and he crumpled to his knees. "Why?" Merrik managed to get out as the other boy helped him to his feet. "Why would you do that?"

The boy smiled a little. "Why not?"

Skyton Tate, 16
District Ten

"Why not?"

Skyton knew how silly the words sounded the moment they left his mouth. There were plenty of good reasons why not. The boy in front of him was his competition. He would have to die eventually if Skyton was going to make it out of the arena alive. He had no good reason to save the other boy. They didn't know each other. He barely remembered the boy's name.

But he did remember it. His name was Merrik. And for now, that was enough. That was enough of a reason. He knew the boy's name. He was a tribute, yes, but he was also a person, just like him. They were probably more alike than different. Somewhere else, they might have been friends.

Somewhere else. But not here. There were no friends in the Games – only allies, and temporary ones, at that. And that hadn't gone so well for him so far. Clearly, things hadn't been going in the other boy's favor, either. Would working together really change that?

Did he have any other choice?

Not anymore. Not really. As soon as he'd told the mutt to dive – to save the boy from falling – the choice had been made. If he didn't offer an alliance now, the move would be nothing but stupid. But if he had a reason to save the other boy – if they were going to make the perfect team – then what he had done was heroic.

That could make all the difference.

Skyton took a deep breath. The audience was watching; he would have to choose his words carefully. "I wanted another chance," he said at last.

The boy looked understandably confused. "Another chance at what?"

"To get it right. Working with someone, having allies. I blew it. I got it all wrong – and from the look of things, you did, too."

That hit home; he could see it in the other boy's eyes. And it would probably play well with the audience, too. They could understand that – the desire to work with someone, to not be on his own in the arena, especially this early in the Games. Hopefully, they would consider that a good enough reason.

But it wasn't the truth. The truth was, he hadn't had it in him to kill the other boy – or even to stand back and let him die. He couldn't do it. But he couldn't let the audience know that. As long as they thought he just wanted an ally, then…

Then what? Then maybe the mutt wouldn't decide he would make a tasty mid-Games snack? Maybe. Skyton held out his hand. "What do you say?"

The boy hesitated. "Alliances haven't been going that well for me."

Skyton chuckled. "Tell me about it. Two of my allies are dead. You?"

"Two. Lena and Dinah."

"Arabel and Connor." And maybe Klaudia. He still couldn't be sure what had happened to her, but maybe it didn't matter now. Now he had another chance. "And I'm Skyton."

"Merrik." The boy shook his hand. Skyton nodded as he clapped the younger boy on the back with his other hand.

"Let's get it right this time."

Justus Freeman, 17
District One

Nothing seemed to be going right anymore.

Justus shook his head as the four of them got a good look around the cornucopia. He, Genevieve, Mae, and Etora had made it back to the throne room without incident, expecting to find Elliot and Darian waiting for them. But the two boys were nowhere to be seen.

Mae had managed to calm down a little, but she was still glancing wildly from side to side, as if she expected their allies to materialize out of thin air. "Where do you think they went?" she asked no one in particular.

"Probably did the same thing Macauley did," Genevieve muttered. "Got tired of waiting around for us to get back and decided to go out and do something stupid."

"They're not dead, at least," Etora offered. "We'd have heard a cannon by now. The only faces were Macauley and the girl from Eight."

That was true, but it wasn't as comforting as it should have been. Elliot and Darian weren't dead, but they could be anywhere. With anyone.

"Maybe someone tried to steal something, and they went after them," Mae suggested, but she didn't sound convinced.

Genevieve scoffed. "If so, they did a pretty poor job of it."

"Maybe it was the girl from Eight," Etora suggested.

Justus shook his head. "If they'd killed her, they could easily have made it back by now. That cannon was hours ago."

"Maybe she wasn't alone, and they're going after someone else," Etora continued.

Genevieve shook her head. "Or maybe they're not coming back."

Mae looked up. "What do you mean? Why would they leave?"

Genevieve turned to Justus. "I think it was pretty obvious during the interviews what Malchus was trying to get them to do. All that talk about why we didn't let the other two girls from Two join the pack. What if they showed up and made Darian and Elliot an offer? Would Darian turn down his district partners?" She turned to Etora. "Would you, if you had been here?"

Etora glared. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Two Careers show up, ready for a fight if you don't agree to join them. Do you take your chances, or do you go along with them? Maybe give them a hint about which way your allies went, let them take their pick of the supplies." She nodded towards the piles. "You really don't think we'll find anything missing?" She turned to Justus, waiting.

Waiting for him to agree.

After a moment, Justus nodded. "The piles do look a little smaller." They did, but whether they actually were, or whether it was his imagination, he couldn't be sure. Everything seemed to be moving too quickly. Just a few hours ago, their whole alliance had been intact. Arguing about whether to keep moving or camp out for the night. Now…

Now it was all falling apart. That was what had to happen eventually, of course, but this was much too soon. Far sooner than he'd expected. He hadn't planned for this.

No one could have planned for this.

"It's too soon to jump to conclusions, though," Justus continued smoothly. "Let's have something to eat and wait a little while. If they come back, all the better. If not … well, then we'll know something else is going on, and we can figure out what to do from there." He turned to Genevieve, waiting. I backed you up. You owe me.

"Sounds like a plan," Genevieve agreed without hesitation. Mae nodded along and settled down to eat with the rest of them. Etora hesitated. Only for a moment, but it was there. She wasn't sure – not completely sure – that Genevieve was wrong about her district partners. And if it was just the four of them now – just her and three tributes from District One – she had to be wondering whether staying with them was her best option.

He would just have to make sure that it was.

Elliot Stone, 18
District Five

Maybe this hadn't been their best option, after all.

Elliot caught his breath as he and Darian reached the top of the stairs. A door at the top led them out into the open air. Elliot glanced around, expecting to see another tribute. That had been the idea, of course. This was where he would have gone to get away from the bird mutts.

But apparently, whoever had been screaming earlier hadn't had the same idea at all. It didn't take long for the two of them to realize that there was no one on top of the tower. It wasn't all that large, and it was very empty. So were three of the other towers that circled the castle. But the fourth…

Elliot pointed as soon as he saw the creature – some sort of winged mutt. Could that be what the other tributes had been running from? Maybe, but it seemed too big. Too big to have been in any of the cages they'd found. Maybe it was what had let the other birds out of the cages. In any case, it didn't seem to have seen themyet.

Which meant they should probably head back down the stairs before it did. They were armed, of course, but against a mutt like that, as well as the two tributes who seemed to be standing beside the mutt … not a good option. If the mutt was working with the tributes, that was a pretty clear sign that they should stay clear. Mutts usually didn't cooperate with tributes unless the tribute was pretty popular with the audience.

That was a lesson District Five's tributes had learned pretty early on. During the Ninth Games, Harakuise had used the eagle mutts in the arena to his advantage. Camden had done the same. Oliver had taken the idea a step farther than most tributes, befriending a pack of giant prairie dog mutts and even bringing one home with him after his Games. But none of that would have happened unless the Gamemakers had wanted it to happen. It made a good show.

And it was a show he didn't want to be on the wrong end of.

"Let's get out of here," he whispered to Darian, who was all too happy to agree. He hadn't wanted to leave the cornucopia in the first place, and maybe he'd had the right idea. For all their effort, they hadn't managed to find the tributes they'd been looking for. Maybe they would have been better off just waiting for the others.

If that was what Darian was thinking, however, he didn't say so. Elliot smiled as they started to make their way down the stairs. At least Darian was considerate enough not to rub it in. That, or he knew that wouldn't sit well with the audience. The audience liked it when tributes kept moving, kept looking for opportunities, kept up the pace of the Games. To admit that they should have stayed put would be a step in the wrong direction.

So they descended the stairs in silence, until Darian finally spoke up. "I'm sorry about Macauley."

Elliot didn't answer right away. It still didn't quite seem real. They'd seen Macauley's face on the wall, of course, but how could she just be … gone? Maybe once they got back to the others, it would start to sink in. They were sure to be able to tell him what had happened. How she'd died. She'd been with them, after all.

"Thanks," Elliot said at last. What else was he supposed to say? He'd known all along that Macauley would have to die eventually. Hell, Darian would have to die eventually in order for him to make it home. But he hadn't expected it to happen quite this soon.

It didn't quite seem fair.

Macauley Tierney, 17
District Five

It wasn't fair.

Macauley gave Emmett's body another kick for good measure. She was trapped in here, and it was his fault. And the worst part was, she couldn't even make him pay for it. He was already dead. As far as the other Careers were concerned, though, she was the one who was dead. She was the one whose face had appeared on the wall after Emmett's cannon had sounded. She'd immediately started pounding on the door, screaming for the others to open it, to let her out. Insisting that she wasn't dead.

But they hadn't listened. Or maybe they hadn't heard her. But she'd been able to hear Emmett perfectly fine when he'd been tapping on the door. Still, if they'd heard her, why hadn't they opened the door? Even if they thought she was dead, wouldn't they have been curious enough to open the door, eager to find any other tribute who might be able to imitate her voice that well?

So that left the possibility that they hadn't been able to hear her at all. Maybe that was the Gamemakers' doing. Maybe the doors only muffled sounds when they wanted them to. But why would they want to strand her here to die when she was doing so well?

Okay. Okay, settle down. She wasn't going to die yet – or anytime soon, for that matter. She still had a bit of food and a bottle of water in her pockets; they'd taken plenty from the cornucopia when they'd left, and each of them had stashed a supply in their pockets. Enough to last a little while. It would be better if she had her bag, but she hadn't thought to bring it when she'd gone to investigate the tapping noise. She'd assumed she'd be back for it soon enough.

But at least she wouldn't starve. Not immediately, anyway. Besides, there was no reason for the Gamemakers to abandon her to that fate. There had to be another way out. There was a window, of course. Probably large enough for her to climb out, if she could reach it. But it was pretty high along the wall, which meant a long drop on the other side, even if they were at ground level, which didn't seem likely. And trying to cling to the side of the castle until she could reach a window to another room didn't seem like the best option. Maybe if she couldn't think of anything else…

She could try to pry the door open. Or break it down. But it was made of some sort of metal; she wasn't going to be able to just smash through it like she might be able to do with a wooden door. And there didn't seem to be anything available that might be able to blow it up. The instruments on the table were mostly knives, whips, chains, and the like. Nothing explosive.

Nothing useful.

Maybe the sponsors would send her something, if she got desperate enough. But she didn't like the idea of asking for their help. Not when there might be a way out on her own. She might need their help later, for something more important. She could figure this out.

She had to figure this out.

If the sponsors were going to send something, after all, the time would have been hours ago, when her face had appeared on the wall. All they would have needed to do was send a message to the others to open the door. Simple. But they hadn't. Maybe that meant Sabine had a plan. A plan that didn't involve reuniting with the other Careers. Maybe her mentor thought she was better off on her own.

Hell, maybe she was right. She'd killed Emmett on her own, after all, with only a few scrapes and cuts to show for it. And what had the others done? They'd been sleeping – all of them. Well, all of them except Elliot and Darian, who were probably still at the cornucopia. She hadn't seen their faces on the wall, after all.

Except … those faces couldn't be trusted. Her face had shown up instead of Emmett's. Why? What had she done? Why would the Gamemakers want the other tributes to think she was dead? She was the opposite of dead. She had killed—

Oh.

She had killed. Was that what they were doing? Showing the faces of those who had killed instead of those who had died? Maybe. But that wasn't what they had done the first time. Why would they change it in the middle of the Games? And did that mean the girl from Eight had killed, as well? Maybe. But there was no way of knowing who she had killed.

Macauley gave Emmett's body another frustrated kick. Even if that was what the Gamemakers were up to, it didn't do her much good. What was she supposed to do with that information? It wasn't as if it was going to help her get out of this room.

Was it?

Ronan Callaway, 18
District Four

Was it time to go back down?

Ronan glanced around at the others as they ate a little more of the food they'd grabbed. They were getting restless, and he couldn't really blame them for that. They'd spent the night in the stairwell, and probably a good bit of the morning, too. Not that they had a good way to tell day from night without going back up the stairs. And that didn't seem like a good idea – not unless they wanted to run into the boy from Three again. There wasn't another way down from the tower – not one they'd found, at least – and his face hadn't appeared with the anthem. So he was still up there.

The Careers, on the other hand … What were the chances they were still at the bottom of the stairs? The girl from Five was dead, which meant the others had probably decided to move along. There was no telling how long the Careers had probably been gone. Chances were, if they left now, all they would find was an empty room.

"You think we should head down there?" Shanali asked, breaking the silence. Clearly, she was ready to get moving again. And maybe that was for the best. If they stayed here long enough, it would only be a matter of time before the Gamemakers decided to force them out.

Ronan nodded, still a bit reluctant. It was the right move, but that didn't make it any easier. Even if the Careers were gone, there was no telling who else might be in the room below them. It was easier to stay here in the stairwell. Easier to keep telling themselves that they could just wait a little longer, give themselves a little more time.

Ronan took a deep breath. Maybe it was easier now, but it would hurt them in the long run if they stayed put for too long. "Now's probably as good a time as any," he agreed, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

Shanali turned to Kilian, who nodded his agreement and picked up his axe from the stairs. Shanali packed up the supplies and shouldered her bag, gripping her dagger tightly as the three of them started to make their way down the stairs. Ronan took the lead, holding his mace out in front of them, warning anyone who might see them coming that they were armed.

Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs, and Ronan took a step into the room. Then another. Sure enough, the Careers were gone, and it didn't seem like anyone else had taken their place. "Okay," he whispered. "All clear."

Shanali didn't bother holding back a chuckle. "If it's all clear, then why are you whispering?"

Ronan opened his mouth, but nothing came to mind. Even if there was someone in the next room, the chances of someone attacking three armed, older, stronger tributes seemed pretty slim. Still, there was something a bit unnerving about hearing a voice out loud in such a large, empty room.

"Doesn't look like there's anything here," Kilian observed, changing the subject. "Or anyone."

"That's a good thing, right?" Ronan pointed out. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. That wasn't the sort of thing the audience wanted to hear. But what was he supposed to say? That he'd been hoping to find someone here?

Suddenly, he heard a tapping sound, coming from the direction of one of the doors leading out of the room. "That way!" Kilian hissed, immediately gesturing to the opposite direction. Ronan didn't need to think twice; the three of them headed for the door. The room was full of barrels, and Ronan immediately ducked behind one. The others followed his lead as he glanced around the room. There didn't seem to be anyone here, either. Just a lot of barrels.

Now he wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.

Barlen Rimmonn, 13
District Nine

The dripping was definitely a good sound.

Barlen smiled, satisfied, as another drop of candle wax fell to the floor, leaving him a perfect trail. Drip. He could do this. He was doing this. His friends—

He glanced down at the note on his arm. Vashti and Mariska. Those were their names. Vashti and Mariska were counting on him. They trusted him to … to …

Explore. That was it. He was exploring the tunnels. And he had to remember. He had to remember to leave himself a trail, or he wouldn't be able to find his way back to them. Back to Mariska and Vashti. Barlen grinned. He hadn't even looked at his arm that time. He'd remembered their names.

That was something.

Drip. The candle was growing shorter by the moment. But that was all right. There were plenty of candles for light along the walls of the hallway. Once his candle ran out, he could turn around and follow his trail back to report what he'd found. Except he hadn't found anything. Or, at least, he was pretty certain he hadn't.

Nothing except the shape ahead of him in the distance.

Wait.

Barlen pressed his back against the nearest wall, holding his breath. There was someone up ahead. Someone else was in the tunnels. He gripped the candle, a little of the wax spilling over onto his hand. Ouch. He barely held back a hiss of pain. He couldn't let the other person – the other tribute – know that he was here.

He remembered that much. Well, it was written on his arm, but that was pretty much the same thing, wasn't it? He was in the Hunger Games. That meant anyone else he ran into was a tribute. They were competition. Except…

Except Vashti and Mariska. They were his friends. And Leo. Leo had been his friend. But Leo was dead; he remembered that. Mariska and Vashti, though – they were still alive.

Weren't they?

Yes. Yes, they had to be. That was why he was down here, exploring. They had sent him. They were expecting him to come back with information. Information he didn't have yet. He didn't know who was down here.

And he would have to get closer if he wanted to find out.

Okay. Just a little closer. He could get just a little closer. Slowly, so slowly, Barlen inched his way closer, keeping his back to the wall, trying not to make a sound. But everything sounded so loud if he was trying to stay quiet. His breathing. His heartbeat. Everything seemed to echo off the walls of the tunnels.

He was closer now – close enough to tell that the tribute had blonde hair. Very pale blonde hair. He didn't remember which ones that might be, though. He would have to get closer.

Barlen gripped his candle as he slid closer. It was almost like a game. How close could he get without being noticed? Just like at home, when he would sometimes sneak up on his parents and surprise them. Except he didn't want to surprise this tribute. He just wanted to get close enough to tell who they were.

Just a little closer.

Klaudia Almasy, 18
District Eight

Just a little closer.

Klaudia held her breath as the steps behind her grew louder. Closer. It had to be someone who was trying to sneak up on her. There was no way they hadn't noticed that she was here, sitting on the floor of the tunnel, resting for a little while. She turned her knife over in her hands as the steps came closer. She just had to let them get a little closer.

Klaudia gripped the knife. There was no way anyone would be trying to get this close unless they meant to kill her. Skyton was the only one in the arena who might not want to kill her, and he would have said something by now. Or he would have seen that it was her and turned and run the other way.

No, whoever it was, it was either them or her. Only one of them was going to walk away from this.

And it was going to be her.

Klaudia took a deep breath, turned, and lunged at the figure behind her, tackling them to the ground. There was a yelp as she landed on top of them, plunging the knife down. Whoever it was, they were smaller than she'd expected. And they were holding a candle.

Then she saw his face.

It was one of the younger boys from Nine. Klaudia drew the knife out of his shoulder. He was staring up at her, wide-eyed. She recognized him. And, for a moment, he almost seemed to recognize her.

Then the candlestick struck her in the head.

Klaudia toppled over, dazed. Then the boy was on top of her. The candlestick came down again. And again. The knife – the knife she had meant to kill him with – fell from her grasp as the candlestick struck her wrist, pressing it against the floor. The boy scooped up the knife, and it plunged down towards her neck. "You're not here," the boy gasped as the knife found her throat. "You can't be here. It's a trick. It has to be. You're dead."

Klaudia almost laughed. Might have laughed, if her throat hadn't been filling with blood. The faces on the wall – they had fooled him into thinking that she was already dead. And there was no harm in killing a ghost, right?

Maybe she was a ghost. Maybe she had been dead all along – ever since her name had been called at the reaping. All of this … maybe she had just been delaying the inevitable. Maybe this was better. Maybe it would even be peaceful.

Maybe…

Charu Varma, 18
District Six

Boom.

Charu nearly jumped as the cannon echoed off the walls of the room. Everything seemed so much louder than … well, louder than she had imagined it would. Not that she'd really had any idea what to expect, but this … this certainly wasn't what she would have pictured. None of it. Eleven tributes were dead. There were twenty-four of them left. And none of those cannons had been members of her alliance.

They were still alive. And not only that, but they were doing well. They had food, water, and even weapons. Sure, most of that had happened in the past few hours or so, but that just made it even more impressive, really. Their luck had turned around just like that.

It was more than luck, of course. Consus had been willing to take a risk, and that risk had paid off. It was that simple. They were playing the Game well.

Or, at least, Consus was.

Charu shook the thought from her head. They were a team – for now, at least. What Consus had done would help all of them. Why did it matter who had been the one to get the supplies? They had them now. Next time, maybe she would be the one to step up and take a risk. Maybe—

Just then, she heard something. From the look on her face, Aleyn heard it, too. Immediately, she motioned to the others to be quiet. Not that they'd been particularly loud in the first place. But the cannon had prompted a little whispering, a little speculation about who it may have belonged to.

Now they all fell silent, listening to the tapping coming from … somewhere. The next room, maybe. "Think we should go see what it is?" Consus asked.

It was obvious what he thought they should do. But did they really want to push their luck? They already had pretty much everything they could ask for. They had plenty of supplies – enough to last for at least days. Maybe even a week, if they were careful. Why should they go looking for trouble?

And it was almost certainly trouble. Tapping could mean two things – either another tribute, or a mutt. Neither of those things sounded like a sound they wanted to be moving towards.

Unless…

She caught Consus' eye, and he nodded. Stealing from the cornucopia had been risky, but it hadn't gotten them what the audience really wanted to see: a kill. The audience wanted blood. Apparently, it didn't matter to them that there had just been a cannon. They were probably the largest alliance in the arena, apart from the Careers. Maybe the Gamemakers figured it was time for them to start acting like it.

Charu nodded, backing Consus' play. "No harm in going to see what it is, I suppose. If it seems too dangerous, we can always turn around and come back."

Right. That was exactly what Consus had said before heading to the cornucopia to scout it out. Sure, that had turned out well. But if there had been someone there, would the Gamemakers have let him just turn around and come back?

Aleyn opened her mouth as if to object, but before she could, Wes cast his vote. "Sounds like a good idea. We've been in one place for quite a while, anyway. I wouldn't mind a change of scenery."

Aleyn kept her mouth shut. If she disagreed now, she would be outvoted, and she would seem like a coward. Instead, she nodded along silently. But Charu could already tell what she really thought.

She was already sure it was a mistake.

Aleyn Tillens, 15
District Four

She was already sure this was a mistake.

Aleyn gripped her cleaver as the four of them headed into the next room. There were tall, thick wooden posts reaching towards the ceiling. It took her a moment to realize that they were beds. But the tapping wasn't coming from any of them.

It was coming from a door.

"I'll have a look," Consus offered, immediately stepping towards the door.

Before he could get too close, however, Charu grabbed him by the shoulder. "Wait a moment. If there's someone on the other side, they're probably waiting right there to ambush us. We can't just go rushing in there."

Consus raised an eyebrow. "So what's your plan?"

She didn't have a plan. Neither of them did. They were just making this up as they went along. Consus had gotten lucky with the supplies, but that was all it was. Luck. He was just counting on getting that lucky again.

But they couldn't depend on that. No one could. Eventually, every tribute's luck ran out – all except one. They had to assume that there was someone behind that door. Someone who would try to kill them as soon as they opened it. And if they could hear the tapping, chances were the tribute on the other side could hear them, and would know what they were planning.

Aleyn shook her head. Their best chance was to just leave, but she already knew the others wouldn't listen. Now that they had plenty of supplies, they were eager to prove themselves. Never mind that none of them had any idea what to do with the weapons they had.

"What if we charge in swinging?" Wes whispered, maybe realizing what Aleyn had – that whoever was on the other side of the door could probably hear them if they were too loud. "Throw open the door quickly, and then we all rush through at once. Maybe that will surprise them."

Aleyn held her tongue. That was probably what the other tribute was expecting them to do. But it was a better idea than sending only one person through, and they would probably have the other tribute outnumbered.

Before she could say anything, Charu and Consus were nodding in agreement, their weapons raised. As silently as they could, they crept closer to the door. Closer. Closer. Charu laid her hand on the handle, gripping her dagger in the other hand. Consus held up three fingers. Then two. Then one.

The door swung open. The four of them rushed through – Charu and Consus, then Wes, then Aleyn. There was a flurry of movement. Aleyn gave a yelp as something swiped across her leg. Someone was running – running out the door, and pulling it shut behind them.

"Aleyn!" Charu called, rushing to her side as she staggered forward. Aleyn looked down at her leg. It was bleeding, but it didn't seem too bad. Whoever had run through the door hadn't wanted to take the time to kill her – just distract her long enough to make her escape. But why? They could just open the door again and—

"Shit!" Wes realized at the same time she did. "There's no handle!" As if to prove his point, he immediately tried to wedge his fingers between the door and the wall to pry it open, without any success. They were trapped.

Aleyn clenched her fists as Charu opened her pack and took out a few strips of bandages. That was why the other tribute had been in such a hurry to get out of there. Why she hadn't bothered hanging around for a fight. Aleyn shook her head.

What were they supposed to do now?

Annemae Carty, 18
District Two

What were they supposed to do now?

Mae glanced over at Margo as the two of them made their way back into the room with the birds. Or, at least, the room where the birds had been. There was no sign of them now, which was probably good news. Unfortunately, there was no sign of any of the other tributes, either. Apparently, the birds' squawking hadn't been enough to make any of the other tributes curious.

Maybe that made sense. How many tributes would choose to run towards the sound of mutts and screaming? Probably not many. Certainly not any of the non-Careers. There probably wasn't anyone nearby at all. The only reason they'd come back into this room was because there didn't seem to be another way out of the room with the weapons.

Margo opened her mouth as if to suggest that maybe they should head to the next room. Or maybe back towards the cornucopia, back through the treasure room, to see if there were any tributes in that direction. But before she could say anything, they heard a sound. The sound of voices, coming from … somewhere nearby. But where?

Silently, Margo pointed to the stairs on the other side of the room. Mae nodded. She was right; there were tributes on the stairs. From the sound of it, the were still pretty far away, but the voices seemed to be getting a little closer. Or maybe the stairwell was making the voices echo. Either way, this was their chance. The chance they'd been waiting for.

Or, at least, the chance the Gamemakers had been waiting to give them. It was all part of their plan; it had to be. If there were tributes on the stairs, they couldn't have gotten there while she and Margo had been staying in the bird room. That left two options. Either they had been on the stairs the whole time, or they had passed through the room after the birds had chased her and Margo into the next one. It was too convenient to be a coincidence. Whoever was on the stairs, the Gamemakers were trying to drive them together.

And maybe it was about time. She and Margo had been lucky so far. Aside from the little encounter with the birds, they'd made it through the last few days unharmed. Days? Maybe. She had no idea, really, how long it had been. There had been two sets of faces on the wall, but they'd seemed a bit close together to actually be marking days in the arena. There was something going on there; she just wasn't sure what.

Not that it was important at the moment. The voices were coming closer. Closer. Mae gripped a dagger in one hand and a small sickle in the other. Positioned on the other side of the doorway that led to the stairs, Margo gripped a spear. It wouldn't take the tributes long to make their way down the stairs. Already the voices were getting louder. She could almost make out what they were saying. And one of the voices sounded almost familiar.

Almost like…

Shit. Mae looked up at Margo, who didn't seem to have put it together. Maybe she was wrong. She certainly hoped she was wrong. Because if it was Darian on the stairs, then the other person with him was probably one of the other Careers. And if there was more than one of them…

If the Careers were on the stairs, their best option was to run. Yes, they were armed. Yes, they would have the element of surprise. But if there were more than two of the others, they would be outnumbered. "Darian," Mae whispered, and Margo raised an eyebrow. Doing the math. She glanced at the door, then at the cages, and shook her head. This was what the Gamemakers wanted. It was probably what the audience wanted. Whatever their chances were, this was a risk they had to take.

They didn't have any other choice.

Balthasar Doyle
District Two Mentor

There wasn't any other choice.

Balthasar leaned back in his chair, watching as Darian and Elliot made their way down the stairs. Idiots. The two of them were chatting away, as if they weren't in the middle of a fight for their lives. It was mostly Elliot doing the chatting, but Darian hadn't had the sense to tell him to be quiet. Maybe they'd decided to act like Careers, after all – assuming that none of the other tributes would intentionally go after them, that they were virtually untouchable.

Meanwhile, Margo and Annemae seemed to be on the right track. With a little nudge from the Gamemakers, of course, but they'd finally taken the hint. If they wanted the audience to treat them like Careers, they had to act like Careers. And taking on two of the other Career tributes would certainly prove that they had what it took.

It was Harriet who finally broke the uneasy silence. "Not to tell you how to do your job, Balthasar, but if you're going to warn him … now would be the time."

Balthasar shook his head. He'd thought about it, of course. All it would take was a warning that they were about to walk into an ambush. Sure, they couldn't exactly head back up the stairs – not with a griffin waiting on one of the other towers – but just knowing that the other two were there would help them. They could work out a strategy. At least they wouldn't be caught off-guard.

But where would be the fun in that?

It wasn't fun for him, of course. Not really. But the audience enjoyed the suspense. They would want to see how Darian and Elliot would react, not to mention whether Margo and Annemae would actually be able to go through with attacking one of their district partners. Aside from the element of surprise, it was about as fair a fight as they could ask for. Two pairs of well-armed Careers, about to go head to head.

Balthasar took another drink. "I don't think I need to. You sure you and Mortimer don't want to tell yours to run and hide?"

That got a chuckle out of Harriet, but Mortimer just scoffed. "We'll see if you're so cocky once the fighting begins."

"Right back at you," Balthasar grinned. "Personally, I think my kid's still got a few tricks up his sleeve." He drained his glass.

"May the best Careers win."

"Doubtful it stood; as two spent swimmers, that do cling together and choke their art."