Disclaimer: I still don't own The Hunger Games.

Note: Results of the "favorite alliance" poll are up on the website. There's a new poll up on my profile, this time asking who you think will make it to the final eight. Please note that this is not necessarily the same as who you want to see in the final eight. (That'll be the next poll.) Maybe it's a bit early to even be thinking about the final eight, but since we're down to the regular 24 tributes (as of last chapter), I figured I'd throw it out there. And I want to have time for both that and the "want to see in the final eight" poll before we get down too close to the actual number.

Since it's a "final eight" poll, this math teacher would be delighted if we could all manage to vote for eight tributes this time around. :)

As usual, this poll isn't likely to affect anything, as I've already got a pretty solid idea of who my final eight are. Holy cow, did I really just type that? *double-checks notes* Yep, I've got a pretty solid idea of my final eight, and a tentative working plan for the rest of the Games. It's ... been a while since I've felt this organized about a plot. I'm pretty proud of that. (Now watch me shuffle everything around once I start writing the next chapter.)

Also as usual, anyone who dies in this chapter won't be included in the poll, so read the chapter first.

Day Two
Bad Begun

Duke Ballard
District Six Mentor

"He's not doing so bad after all."

Duke clapped Basil on the back as the younger mentor dealt out another hand of cards to the three of them – himself, Duke, and Kyra. Duke nodded towards a screen in the corner, which showed Barlen making his way back towards Vashti and Mariska. Or, at least, he was headed in their general direction, distracted every now and then by the blood on his candlestick or on the knife he'd taken from Klaudia. He'd used the knife to cut off a few strips from his shirt and bandage his shoulder, which would suffice until he made it back to his allies.

If he made it back to his allies.

Basil rolled his eyes. "Now don't you start, too. If Harakuise hadn't suggested coaxing him into an alliance with the other two, he'd be dead."

"Probably," Duke agreed. "But killing Klaudia … he did that all on his own."

Basil shrugged. "He got lucky. She hesitated."

"And he didn't," Kyra pointed out. "He knew someone was trying to kill him, and he fought back."

"Because he thought she was a ghost," Basil pointed out, discarding a four of hearts. "You really think he would have bashed her head in with a candlestick if he'd realized that she was a real, live tribute?"

Kyra shrugged. "Maybe. No way to know, really. The Games can make people do some pretty crazy things. Like collapse an entire anthill," she added with a glance at Basil.

"Or cut off their own leg," Basil chuckled, flashing a smile at Duke.

"Exactly," Duke agreed, giving his peg leg a pat. It had been a split-second decision during the finale. He and one of his former allies, the boy from One, had both been trapped by chains that had come to life in their prison arena, wrapping around their legs as the mutts closed in. Unable to reach his opponent while trapped, he'd used his own weapon to cut through his right leg at the knee, then finished off his opponent before passing out from blood loss.

The Capitol had loved it, just as they'd loved the fact that he'd refused a prosthetic, fashioning a peg leg for himself, instead. As far as they were concerned, it gave him style. It made him unique. That was all that mattered to them, in the end. They wanted tributes who were interesting, who gave them a show. And he had done that.

So had Basil and Kyra, each in their own way. Basil hadn't taken long to find his way to the center of the anthill, where he'd killed a girl who happened to wander in at the wrong time. Her supplies had given him what he'd needed – a way to collapse the anthill. He'd taken days to arrange everything just right, but when he'd made his move, the cave-in had buried the rest of the tributes alive. He'd crushed and suffocated them without ever raising a blade, making his Games one of the quickest on record.

Kyra's, on the other hand, was the longest to date. She hadn't had the audience's attention at first, but once she turned on an ally – an ally she had abandoned during the bloodbath – they began to take note. One by one, she'd outlasted the others, killing six tributes before it was all over. Twenty-six days – double the length of his own Games. She was the youngest Victor in more than four decades, all because she'd been able to give them a show and do what had to be done.

Duke's gaze strayed to a screen that showed Charu and her alliance, still trapped in the dungeon room. They'd spent almost an hour scouring the room for anything they might be able to use to pry the door open or climb up to the window. They didn't get it yet. They hadn't figured it out.

"I'm sure they'll find something soon," Kyra offered hopefully, picking up two cards when she thought he wasn't looking.

Duke shook his head, swiping one of the cards and placing it back on the bottom of the pile. "Don't count on it."

Basil raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? You think the Gamemakers are just going to leave them in there?"

"Why not?"

"They let Macauley out," Kyra shrugged.

Duke nodded. She'd tricked the others into opening the door, yes, but it was the Gamemakers who had made sure that they could hear her tapping. "There's no one else nearby," Duke pointed out. "But even if there were, they wouldn't let them try the same trick again. They'd just end up with a revolving door of tributes trapped and tricking their way out. They've got something much more interesting now."

Basil drew another card. "What do you mean?"

"Who do you think they'd rather have trapped in there?" Duke reasoned. "Macauley, or the four of them? Who would you rather watch trying to escape?"

"Macauley was more desperate," Kyra offered. "The four of them have enough food to last them quite a while."

"No harm in laying low for a while," Basil agreed. "They're probably safer in there than anywhere else in the arena."

Duke nodded. "And that's what one or two of them will probably say – at least for a while. Until they get restless. Until they start to worry that the Gamemakers are going to send some mutts after them. Until they realize that, eventually, they're going to have to do something."

"They are doing something," Kyra pointed out. "They're looking for a way out."

"Not good enough," Duke reasoned. "Not for long. You just wait; they'll be at each other's throats in no time." He shook his head.

"And that's what the audience wants to see."

Margo Devereaux, 18
District Two

This was exactly what the audience wanted to see.

Margo gripped her spear tightly as the footsteps came closer. Closer. The voices had died down a little, as if the two of them were starting to suspect that maybe they shouldn't be quite so loud. Or maybe they had simply run out of things to talk about. It did seem like there were only two of them. Darian and one of the other boys.

That narrowed the options a bit. There was Justus from District One, Elliot from District Five, and … that was it, wasn't it? Unless they'd picked up an extra ally somewhere. The rest of the Careers were girls, and one of them was already dead. If she and Mae could take out two of them now…

But that would mean killing Darian. One of their district partners. They'd always known that was a possibility, of course. There were five of them from District Two; it was only a matter of time before some of them ran into each other. Still, she couldn't help wondering what their mentors thought of all this. But they hadn't stepped in to stop them.

And why should they? This was exactly the sort of fight the audience would love. Two against two. Careers versus Careers. Except they weren't Careers – not really. And neither were the others. They were all pretending. It was just a matter of who could pretend better now that their lives were actually on the line.

Closer. Closer. She could see a few shadows now, making their way down the stairs. She nodded at Mae, who turned her own weapon over in her hands, waiting. Waiting for the right moment.

A figure passed through the doorway, and Margo charged. The figure gave a shout, dodging her blow. He had a dagger; she could see that now. It was the boy from Five. Margo swung again, and Mae charged at the second figure. Darian. So it was just the two of them. It was going to be about as fair a fight as they could ask for.

Except now the element of surprise was gone. The boy from five swung his own weapon, and Margo took a step back, ducking beneath his blow. He was startled. Still a bit confused. She could use that. She circled back towards Mae and Darian, who were trading blows. Neither of them seemed to be getting the better of the fight. Maybe she could help them, once—

Just as she was making her way towards the others, however, the boy dove for her legs. She hadn't been expecting that. She tried to kick his weapon away, but the blade sliced across her calf. Shit. She gave him a kick with her other leg, and the two of them tumbled to the floor. The boy was on top of her, but she still had her spear. It was an awkward position to use it from, though, and she only succeeded in swinging it towards his head. The boy grabbed hold of the shaft, dropping his own weapon, trying to gain control. Margo held on as tightly as she could.

She didn't have any other choice.

Elliot Stone, 18
District Five

He didn't have any other choice.

Elliot yanked back on the spear, trying to wrench it from the girl's grasp as Darian and the other girl circled around behind him. As soon as he finished dealing with this one, then he could go help Darian. Elliot clenched his teeth. He should have been expecting an attack. The Gamemakers had wanted them on the stairs for a reason. They'd wanted the two of them to follow the birds to exactly that spot. It had all been arranged. It had all been leading to this.

The girl gave a yank on the spear, nearly pulling it from his grasp. Elliot leaned forward, trying to get some leverage. He'd dropped his dagger nearby. He could pick it up, but that would mean letting go of the spear. And if he did that…

No. He could do this. He pulled back quickly, then leaned sharply forward, pressing the spear towards the girl's throat. He just needed another moment or two. Then—

Suddenly, he felt something sharp, stabbing into his back. A blade was sticking out of his chest. Through his chest. What…?

He turned, expecting to see the other girl. Instead, Darian stood behind him, his dagger no longer in his hand. The other girl – his other district partner – stood beside him, weapon raised, just as baffled as Elliot was. It didn't make any sense. Why would Darian…?

He didn't have time to figure it out. Darian reached for his dagger, yanking it out of Elliot's back. Elliot crumpled to the floor as blood began to pour from the wound. He could feel the other girl scrambling out from under him, covered in blood. His blood.

Quietly, as if in a dream, he heard something clatter to the floor. He could hear voices, but they all seemed muffled. He couldn't make out the words. Maybe he didn't want to. He didn't want to know what they were saying.

He just wanted the pain to stop.

Elliot closed his eyes. It would be over soon. It wouldn't take long. Not with this much blood. It was only a matter of time before…

Boom.

Darian Travers, 14
District Two

Boom.

Darian held his breath as Elliot's cannon sounded. His would soon follow, if his gamble didn't pay off. He had been losing the fight. Mae had almost had him pinned. Even if Elliot had been able to help him, he might not have made it in time. So he'd played the only card he had. He already hated it. But he hadn't had any other choice.

Had he?

Mae had been trying to drive him back towards the others so she could help Margo once she finished him off. It had only taken him a split second to turn and stab Elliot in the back, instead. That had been enough to surprise Mae. Enough for her not to kill him.

Not yet, at least. He'd thrown down his dagger immediately, which would look good to the audience. To them, it would look like he'd been planning this all along. Like he'd been working with Margo and Mae to betray the Career pack. He hadn't been doing anything of the sort, of course, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that it looked that way to the audience.

None of that would work, of course, unless the other two went along with it. Mae helped Margo to her feet, never taking her eyes off Darian. He didn't make a move for his dagger. He didn't make a move to run. It was up to them now. Were they going to kill their unarmed district partner in cold blood, or were they going to risk going along with his plan?

His plan. He didn't even have a plan. Only a few moments ago, his plan had been to head back to the cornucopia with Elliot and see if the others were back yet. Darian's gaze strayed to Elliot's body, and his stomach churned. It wasn't fair. They had been chatting away on the stairs only a few minutes ago, as if nothing was wrong. As if nothing could go wrong. Such a stupid mistake. Such an obvious mistake. So obvious…

Would the audience buy that?

Darian put on his best smile. "You heard us coming, right?"

For a moment, he got nothing. Then Margo put it together. "You wanted us to hear you?"

"Figured it was probably you," Darian agreed in what he hoped sounded like a casual tone. "Heard you earlier running from those birds." It was a guess, but not a bad one, considering he'd seen a few bandages on their arms. He nodded towards Elliot's body. "He never suspected a thing."

That much was true. Elliot would never have expected this. But that was why he was dead, and Darian was alive. Darian held out his hand. "I'd say we make a pretty good team."

Margo hesitated. But not for long. Her leg was hurt. She didn't want another fight. And she certainly didn't want to kill someone who was offering to help them. She glanced at Mae, who nodded. Margo shook his hand as the anthem began to play.

"Welcome to our pack."

Merrik Haims, 15
District Three

At least the pack was getting smaller.

Merrik nodded a little as the face of one of the boys from Five appeared in the sky above. It was getting dark – dark enough to see that it was the oldest one of the three boys, the one who had joined the Career pack. That made the second Career gone, and both of them had been from District Five. Of course, thanks to the twist, Five still had two tributes left, but one of them was twelve and the other was the boy with the bleeding disorder. Chances were, neither of them would pose much of a threat.

Of course, that was what people probably thought about him, and he was still alive. But he wasn't alive because he'd killed. He was alive because Skyton hadn't wanted to let him die. Clearly, he hadn't wanted to let anyone die. The older boy was nice enough, but 'nice' wasn't going to get them very far in the Games.

Still, other tributes being kind, taking pity on him … well, that was the reason he was still alive, so he couldn't exactly complain. And he wasn't in a position to refuse help if it was being offered. Merrik turned his attention back to the sky, where the other face belonged to the girl from—

Eight? That didn't seem quite right. "Wasn't she one of the faces last time?" Merrik asked, but he already knew the answer. She was. He was certain of it. Yes, there were two girls from Eight, but they looked absolutely nothing alike.

And Skyton was nodding his agreement. "Something's not right. That's twice they've shown Klaudia's face, and they haven't shown Connor's at all."

Connor. It took him a moment to place the name. "Your district partner?"

Skyton nodded. "We were working together, the three of us – well, and Arabel, but she didn't make it away from the bloodbath in time. I was there when Klaudia killed Connor, but we got her face instead of his."

"Instead of his," Merrik repeated. It was starting to make a little more sense. "They showed the face of the person who did the killing, rather than the person who was killed. But that would mean…"

He let that hang in the air for a moment. That would mean the girl from Five was still alive somewhere. Before he could take that train of thought any farther, however, the griffin beside them started stamping wildly. It was almost as if it was frightened of something. No. No, frightened wasn't quite the right word. It was anxious. Restless. "Maybe he wants to go for another flight," Skyton offered.

"Or maybe he's hungry," Merrik mumbled, but he didn't object as Skyton climbed onto the mutt's back and then offered him a hand up. As soon as he'd settled onto the creature's back, it took off. Merrik clung tightly to its feathers as it circled the castle. Once. Twice. Then it flapped a bit farther away from the castle, turned around, and hurtled back towards it. Almost as if it was getting a running start. Well, a flying start. Merrik could see a window coming up quickly. A painted window – some sort of painted glass.

Glass that shattered as the griffin crashed through it.

Merrik closed his eyes, burying his face in the mutt's feathers as the glass sprayed past him. Fortunately for him and Skyton, the griffin took the full force of the impact without even flinching, flapping down to the floor below the window and landing at least somewhat gracefully. Skyton rolled off the creature's back, and Merrik quickly followed his lead. Whatever the reason the Gamemakers wanted them here, at least the mutt didn't seem interested in killing them.

Not yet, at least.

Mariska Vasile, 16
District Eight

It didn't really make any sense yet.

Mariska turned to Vashti, who seemed just as puzzled by the faces that had appeared on the wall as she was. This was the second time Klaudia's face had appeared. "Looks like the Gamemakers are playing with us," she muttered. Not that it was much of a surprise, really. The anthem was already being played seemingly at random. Why should they expect the faces to be accurate?

Vashti opened his mouth as if to respond, but before he could get the words out, there was a terrible crashing somewhere above them. Mariska almost screamed, but she managed to stop herself in time. A noise that loud almost certainly meant other tributes were nearby, and anything that might give away their position was suddenly even more dangerous.

At least they'd decided to stay down in the tunnels to wait for Barlen. That decision had probably just saved their lives. If there were tributes who were that careless about making that much noise, they probably weren't worried about being found. And tributes who didn't have to worry about being found were dangerous.

Vashti motioned down the hallway in the direction Barlen had gone, pointing at the wax trail their younger ally had left on the floor. He was right; it wasn't safe to stay here any longer – not now that they were certain there were other tributes nearby. It was only a matter of time before the other tributes, whoever they were, found their way into the tunnels. It would be best if they were long gone by then. Besides, Barlen's candle had almost certainly run out by now. If they were following his trail one way and he was following it back in the other direction, they were bound to run into each other.

If he was still following the trail.

Mariska shook the thought from her head. If he wasn't, there was nothing they could do about it now. For better or worse, they had sent him off on his own. That was why Vashti had wanted him as an ally, after all. They'd needed someone they didn't mind sending on ahead to look for trouble. Someone disposable. Someone they wouldn't miss.

But she would miss him if something happened, as much as she didn't want to admit it. She had been relieved that his face hadn't appeared on the wall, although that didn't mean as much as it usually did. If the faces during the anthem couldn't be trusted, then there was a chance he was already dead, and if someone had killed him…

They could be walking right into a trap.

Suddenly, she could hear footsteps in the distance. Vashti flattened himself against one wall, and Mariska did the same along the opposite wall. She couldn't see who it was yet; the footsteps were coming from around a corner up ahead.

As soon as the figure rounded the corner, however, she breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out into the hallway. "Barlen!" she called, careful not to be too loud. There was no telling who else might be nearby.

Then she saw the blood. Blood on the candlestick he was holding. Blood on the knife. Where had he gotten a knife? And there was blood on his shoulder, which he'd done his best to bandage.

Barlen stopped when he heard her voice. But only for a moment. Confusion passed over his face briefly, and then recognition. He glanced down at his arm. "Mariska! Where's Vashti? Is he all right? There were cannons, and the faces, and the faces are wrong, or they were wrong, or…" The words came pouring out of him as he threw his arms around her. "She's dead. She's dead, and I killed her. I thought she was already dead. I didn't know I was killing her. Honest, I didn't. And she was trying to kill me, and I thought it was a trick, and—"

Vashti stepped out of the shadows. "The girl from Eight? You killed her?"

Barlen nodded vigorously. "I didn't mean to. I didn't know what I was doing."

Mariska froze. Klaudia. Barlen had killed Klaudia. So she hadn't been dead the first time her face had appeared, and Barlen hadn't known. He hadn't realized what he was doing.

Vashti shook his head, laying a gloved hand on Barlen's shoulder. Half-hidden behind his helmet, there was a look on Vashti's face that was almost approval. Almost satisfaction. Almost pride. He gave Barlen's shoulder a squeeze.

"Yes, you did."

Vashti Rii, 16
District Five

"Yes, you did."

Vashti removed his hand from Barlen's shoulder as the younger boy looked up at him, his eyes wide. "What do you mean? I didn't want to kill her."

Vashti shook his head. "Of course not. But wanting to and meaning to are two different things. Whether you realized it at the time or not, she was trying to kill you. And you wanted to live. Some part of your brain decided you would rather kill than die, and that's a good thing. That's what's going to help you stay alive in here."

For a while, at least. Long enough to be useful. The boy had already proved more helpful than Vashti would have guessed. He'd killed a tribute, which would certainly meet with approval from the audience. And now they had a weapon. Well, Barlen had a weapon, but that was just as well. If he was going to be the one scouting ahead and risking his life, he would get the most use out of it. Still…

"Did she have anything else with her?" Vashti asked before Barlen could open his mouth again.

"What?"

"The girl you killed. Was she carrying any other supplies? I see you got a knife off of her."

"Looks like she got a blow in first," Mariska observed, nodding to Barlen's shoulder. "Let's take care of that; then we can worry about supplies." She opened the bag they'd taken from the girl they'd killed after the bloodbath. There were a few bandages inside – enough to patch up Barlen's shoulder, which she quickly set to work doing.

It didn't take long. The wound wasn't deep, and Barlen had already been able to stop most of the bleeding simply by bandaging it on his own with a few strips cut from his shirt. Still, a wave of nausea struck Vashti at the sight. If that had been him, he would be dead. Yes, he was wearing armor, but there would always be places the armor didn't cover. All it would take was one blow in the right place.

Vashti took a deep breath, shaking the thought from his mind. That was why they had sent Barlen on ahead, after all. It had been his job to scout out the area, and their plan had worked. Now they just had to get moving again before…

Before what? If someone else had found the entrance to the tunnels and was following them, they would certainly have heard them by now. Barlen wasn't exactly being quiet. Of course, he had no reason to. No way of knowing that someone might be coming after them. Come to think of it, he had no way of knowing that. The crash had been loud, yes, but everything seemed to echo strangely in the castle. It could have been several rooms away, and they might have been able to hear it.

Still, it couldn't hurt to be careful. As soon as Barlen was all patched up, they set out, following the trail of candle wax he had left. It didn't take them long to find the body, still lying where Barlen had left it. Mariska kept her distance, as if she expected her district partner to spring to life and attack. But Vashti ventured a little closer, searching the body for anything that might be useful.

There was a little food in her pockets – a little bread and cheese, some crackers, and a small bottle of water, about half full. There was also a vial of some sort. Vashti tucked it inside his pocket. Medicine, maybe? Where would she have found that? Had the sponsors sent it? But why would the sponsors send something to her? And why had her face appeared twice?

That still didn't make any sense.

Mae Swenson, 13
District One

It didn't make any sense.

Mae glanced back and forth at her allies as they finished the rest of their meal. None of them seemed particularly bothered by the fact that the faces had been wrong. The Gamemakers had made a mistake. They'd shown the girl from Eight twice, and if that was wrong, what else had they mixed up?

None of the others seemed to care one way or the other, though. Justus and Etora were still eating. Genevieve had finished her meal and was circling the throne, as if expecting an attack. As if anyone was really going to attack four Careers. That would be a mistake.

Wouldn't it?

Unless…

Unless Genevieve had been right about Darian joining up with his district partners. That would explain why Elliot was dead and he wasn't. If Elliot was dead. If Darian was with the others from Two, it was only a matter of time before they decided the Career pack was too good of a target to pass up. That was what she would do. Try to take out the rest of them while they were confused and disoriented. While they were already fighting among each other.

Genevieve and Etora had settled down a little bit, but they hadn't said much to each other during their meal. Not that any of them had said much of anything. What was there to say? Macauley and Elliot were dead. Darian was gone. If they were going to go out hunting again, they couldn't risk leaving two of them to guard the supplies, like they had before. And if they only left one, that person would be an easy target if the group from Two did decide to attack.

But if they didn't leave a guard, the supplies would be free for the taking for anyone who happened to realize there was no one there. Of course, the same had been true however long Elliot and Darian had been gone before the rest of them had returned. How long had that been? Hours? And yet the food and supplies had been mostly untouched. If any of the tributes had taken something, they'd certainly left plenty behind.

But that wasn't the point – not really. There was enough to go around; there always was. But if anyone could just waltz back to the cornucopia and take whatever they wanted, then tributes wouldn't go hungry. And hungry tributes started to make mistakes. They were easier to find, and weaker when they were caught. It was called the Hunger Games for a reason, after all.

Tributes who were starving didn't stand a chance.

Nephelle Sorena, 17
District Seven

She wouldn't stand a chance if she didn't find some water soon.

Nephelle staggered into the next room, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. She was still clutching the horn she'd found in the room with the musical instruments. The next room had held nothing but a large cauldron in the center – with absolutely nothing inside. In the next room, there was nothing but armor – most of it far too large even if she wanted to make use of it. She shook her head. All she wanted was a little water.

Well, food would be good, too. Food and water. She took another hesitant step forward, glancing around. There didn't seem to be anyone nearby, which could be good or bad. On the one hand, it meant no one was likely to jump out and attack her. On the other hand…

On the other hand, other tributes might mean supplies. Anyone else who had lasted this long had probably found something. Or taken something from the bloodbath at the start. Nephelle shook her head. It wasn't the first time she'd caught herself wishing she'd grabbed something. But if she'd stayed, she would probably have ended up dead, just like her allies. Just like Thomas and…

Aven. Nephelle clenched her fists, frustrated. She'd had to think just to remember her ally's name. How long had it been since the bloodbath? Two days? Three? There had been three sets of faces projected on the wall, but somehow that didn't quite seem right. Or, at least, it hadn't before. Maybe it had been that long.

Maybe it had been longer.

Just then, she heard something. Some sort of rustling sound, coming from the next room. She took a step closer. Then another. She opened the door a crack, and nothing sprung out to attack her. She could see someone sitting beside one of the barrels, her back turned to Nephelle. Nephelle's heart leapt. Was the girl alone? Did she have food? Water? She wasn't watching her. Maybe she would be able to slip in long enough to grab something. That was all she needed. Just something.

Just enough to keep her alive.

She opened the door a little more. Then a little farther. Just wide enough for her to slide through. It didn't even creak. Immediately, she crouched lower, ducking behind one of the larger barrels in case the girl happened to turn around. She didn't. Nephelle gripped her horn a little tighter. She was safe. She was still safe. She could still turn around, go back the way she had come, and no one would know the difference.

Then she saw the bag. It was on the floor beside the other girl, just lying there. There might be food in it. There might be water. But she couldn't just grab it. The girl would notice. She would catch her, and then it would all be over. There was no way she would be able to outrun the other girl. Not in her current state. Nephelle clutched the horn in her hands.

She would have to kill her. Or at the very least, knock her out. If she hit her over the head with the metal instrument, that would give her time to grab the bag and run. That might work. Maybe she didn't have to kill her. After all, what were the chances that one blow from a horn would be enough to kill? But enough to leave her opponent dazed and confused? Almost certainly.

Slowly, silently, she crept up behind the other girl. Closer. Closer. She was standing almost right behind her.

Then she saw the other two.

They were sleeping – or, at least, they appeared to be. The two boys had been hidden behind the barrels, but now she was close enough to see them. Shit. If she woke them, it would all be over. Which meant she couldn't kill the girl who was on watch. If she killed her, the cannon would wake the others. Not that she'd wanted to kill her, anyway. She just wanted food. And from the look of these three, they were doing just fine. They could spare a little…

As silently as she could, she took a deep breath. Then she raised the horn up, the shadow flickering on the wall, and she immediately realized.

That was a mistake.

Shanali Theisen, 17
District Eleven

She saw the shadow just in time.

Shanali let out a scream as the weapon came down, but she managed to roll out of the way just in time. She couldn't see exactly what it was, but she saw the girl lunging towards her, and immediately reached for her own dagger, which was lying at her side. She didn't have time to think. With one quick movement, she drove her dagger into the girl's chest.

The other girl fell, gasping, coughing, spitting blood. Shanali could see tears in her eyes. "Water," she gasped. "I just … just wanted …"

Boom. The cannon sounded just as Kilian and Ronan reached her side. "What happened?" Ronan asked.

"Are you all right?"

"Who is she?"

"Was she attacking you?"

"What's that in her hand?"

Shanali barely heard their questions. She inched her way closer to the other girl. Her eyes were still open, staring at nothing. There was something in her hand. Something Shanali had assumed was a weapon. But it wasn't.

It was a horn.

Shanali's stomach churned. The other girl hadn't been armed at all. She'd been about to hit her with a horn. She must have been desperate. Desperate enough to think that trying to steal from the three of them was a good idea. "She just wanted water," Shanali whispered.

For a moment, the questions stopped. There was silence. "Water?" Ronan asked.

Shanali shook her head. "That's what she said. She just wanted water. That's all she wanted – just a little water." She had died over a little bit of water. Shanali had killed her because she'd wanted a little of their water.

But she hadn't known that.

There was no way she could have known that.

It had looked like the girl was attacking her. She had been bringing the horn down. But there was no way that would have killed her. Was there? She would probably have just taken some of their supplies and run off while she could. That was what Shanali would have done if…

If it was just her, rather than the three of them. That was the only thing separating her from the girl in front of her. She had allies; the other girl had been alone. Or if she had had allies, they were gone. Dead. Just like her.

"Is that a trumpet?" Kilian asked, confused. "What was she going to do with that?"

"Nothing," Shanali said quietly. "She couldn't have done anything with it. I thought she was going to kill me, but she … she never really had a chance."

Ronan laid a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Shanali hesitated. Physically, she was fine. The other girl hadn't laid a hand on her. But she felt like she was going to be sick. There was so much blood. Slowly, she reached over and shut the other girl's eyes. She couldn't admit that – not while the audience was watching.

And the audience was always watching.

Kilian Romane, 17
District Eleven

The audience would be watching them.

Kilian held his breath, waiting for Shanali's response. She looked like she was going to be sick. Hell, he felt like he was going to be sick, and he hadn't just killed someone. Shanali had. But the audience would be watching, waiting to see how she handled it. Whether she was going to crack.

"I'm all right," she said at last. "Just a bit startled. I wasn't expecting it to be that quick." She managed a nervous chuckle.

Good. That was good. The audience would get a kick out of it. And he had to admit, it made him feel a little better, too. Yes, the other girl hadn't really been armed, but she'd been trying to steal their supplies. And in the heat of the moment, there was no way Shanali could have known that she didn't have a real weapon somewhere. She had fought. She had killed. And she had made it look easy.

The audience would like that.

Sure enough, the next thing he heard was a quiet pinging noise coming from above, and a parachute floated down from the ceiling. Shanali looked up, startled, as it landed by her feet. There was an 11 on the package, but it was pretty obvious which of them it was intended for. "Looks like someone likes your handiwork," Kilian offered, nodding towards the body.

Shanali froze. Only for a moment, but it was there. His comment had caught her off guard – maybe even disturbed her. Shit. He'd been trying to make a joke. Trying to lighten the mood. But Shanali took a step away from him as she opened the package.

Inside were three water bottles and three pairs of glasses. Shanali hesitated when she saw the water bottles – exactly what the girl who had attacked her had been looking for. The look on her face left no doubt that she'd made the connection, but she said nothing. Instead, she laid the water bottles on the ground and handed each of the others one of the pairs of glasses. "Night vision glasses?" Ronan asked.

Kilian nodded as he put them on. "I think so, yes."

Ronan shook his head. "But why? It's not that dark in here – not with all these candles. And there have been plenty of them in the other rooms, too. Sure, it's not daylight, but it's not exactly pitch black."

Kilian glanced around the room. "But it could be."

"What do you mean?" Shanali asked.

Kilian nodded to the door that lay slightly open on the other side of the room. "Looks like the other girl snuck in through there. Opened the door and just slid through, and we didn't even notice – not until she was right on top of us. But if we shut the door again and snuff out the candles, it will be pitch black. Anyone who comes in here will have to open the door, and suddenly light comes pouring through. That's a dead giveaway, wouldn't you say?"

Ronan cringed a little. Maybe 'dead' giveaway had been a poor choice of words. "What about the body?"

He hadn't even thought about that. What were they supposed to do with the body? There had to be some way for the Gamemakers to collect them, but not while they were in the same room. Kilian glanced at Shanali. "Maybe we should find a different room, then," he offered. "We can't close all the doors to this one, anyway."

It was true. There was a door leading back to the cornucopia that they wouldn't be able to close. Maybe it would be a good time to leave, anyway. Shanali's scream might have drawn attention from the Careers. Sure, the Gamemakers and the audience were probably satisfied with what Shanali had already done tonight, but that didn't mean the Careers wouldn't take the opportunity to attack if they saw one.

Shanali nodded her agreement. "Which way do you think we should go?"

Ronan glanced around. "Well, that one leads back to the cornucopia. That one leads back to where we heard that tapping before. So … that one?" He gestured towards the only other door.

Kilian shrugged. "Sounds good to me." The three of them headed for the door, with only a glance or two back at the body they were leaving behind. Maybe the night vision glasses had simply been a hint that it was time to get moving.

Maybe it was best to leave while they still could.

Retro Liu, 12
District Five

Maybe it was best to leave while they still could.

Retro sat up slowly as Ti gave his shoulder a gentle shake. It was time to trade watches. But the truth was, he'd been awake since the last cannon. How long ago had that been? It had felt like hours, but maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him because he was trying to get to sleep. Retro rubbed his eyes. "Do you think maybe it's time to go?"

Ti raised an eyebrow. "Go where?"

He didn't really have a good answer for that. Just a feeling that maybe they'd pushed their luck a little too long. They'd been sitting here next to a huge pile of food for quite a while, and nothing had happened. Apparently, the Gamemakers had been busy elsewhere. But it was only a matter of time before that changed. How long could they expect to just sit here and do nothing?

But the question remained. Go where? What else were they supposed to do? It wasn't as if they were armed. It wasn't as if there were any other tributes nearby that they could attack. They'd been prepared to attack the girl from Eight, but she was gone, and they hadn't seen or heard anybody else since then.

But it was only a matter of time.

"I don't know where," Retro admitted. "But it's only a matter of time before someone finds us, right?"

Ti shook his head. "Well, that's true whether we stay here or keep moving, don't you think?"

There wasn't much to say to that, either. He was right. The whole purpose of moving on would be to find other tributes, after all. If they just kept moving and didn't find anyone, the Gamemakers were just as likely to get annoyed with them as they were if they stayed put. They needed to have a plan, a goal. And right now, they didn't.

Ti lay down, stretching out along the floor. "Look, let me get a little more sleep; then we can figure it out. Okay?"

Retro nodded. That sounded fair. Just because he hadn't been able to get to sleep didn't mean he shouldn't let Ti get some rest. "Wake me up in a few hours," Ti yawned. "Or if something happens, of course."

"I will," Retro promised. What was he supposed to do if something happened? Besides wake Ti, of course. What were they supposed to fight with? Where were they supposed to run? Retro shifted a little, wondering what Ti would do if he did wake him up because of an attack.

He hoped he wouldn't have to find out.

Wes Bartoshesky, 16
District Eleven

He'd hoped they would have found a way out by now.

Wes paced the room again, as if the tenth or eleventh time around might be the time he actually found something useful that might help them escape. But there was nothing. There were plenty of weapons, of course, but they'd already tried to pry open the door, with no luck. There was nothing they might be able to fashion into an explosive, and none of them were really confident enough that they wouldn't blow the entire room up if they tried, anyway. There were bits of rope and chain, but none of them had been long enough to reach the window.

Even if they could reach the window, and even if they found a way to open it, what were they supposed to do then? Climb down? Try to find another open window? Neither of those sounded like good options.

Neither did staying put, of course, but they didn't have much of a choice at the moment. They'd eaten a little, already careful of rationing the food they had. They had no idea, after all, how long it would have to last. They could be trapped here quite a while.

That should have been a good thing. As long as they were alone in here, they were safe. Safe from the other tributes, at least. But how long would the Gamemakers let them stay put?

"What else do they expect us to do?"

It took Wes a moment to realize he'd said it out loud. Now everyone else was looking at him. "Who?" Charu asked.

"The Gamemakers. They have to realize we're trying to get out. But we don't exactly have much to work with. What's the point in trapping us in here? The point of the Games is to kill people, after all. How are we supposed to do that if we're stuck in this room? What do they expect us to do? Kill each other?"

Consus snorted. "That's probably exactly what they expect us to do."

Oh. He hadn't actually meant it. But now that Consus said it, it made sense. The Gamemakers were waiting for them to turn on each other, to start blaming each other for their predicament. "Well, we're not going to," Wes said emphatically, waiting for the others to agree.

Aleyn was the first to nod. "Of course not. We'll find some other way out."

"And we've got enough food to last us quite a while," Consus agreed.

"Thanks to you," Charu pointed out. "That was good thinking, grabbing so much from the pile."

Smart. She was making sure she was on Consus' good side, which wasn't a bad idea. If anyone was going to snap and decide to start a fight among them, it might be him. He was the one who'd had the guts to go back to the cornucopia, after all, even if it meant risking a fight with the Careers. How long would it be before he decided the rest of them might not be worth keeping around?

Stop it. They'd only been trapped for a few hours, at the most, and he was already getting paranoid. Consus wasn't any more likely to snap than he was, and chances were something would happen before then. The Gamemakers weren't just going to leave them in here forever.

Were they?

Etora Nanovi, 12
District Two

Were they finally asleep?

Etora took one more look around at her allies. Justus had taken the first watch, and then Genevieve. They'd even let Mae take a turn before apparently deciding they couldn't avoid letting her keep watch forever. Etora shook her head. What did they think she was going to do? Try to stab all three of them before the cannons woke them?

No. No, but she couldn't stay here much longer. Genevieve was starting to get suspicious. The fact that those suspicions were completely unfounded meant nothing. And they were unfounded. Probably. Darian probably wasn't with their district partners. But even she couldn't be certain – not completely certain – that Genevieve wasn't right about him.

Genevieve was wrong about her, of course. She hadn't been planning on leaving the pack – not until now. But Genevieve had made it pretty clear that she didn't trust her. Maybe it was better to get out of the way now, before the pack split completely.

The pack always split eventually, of course. That much was a certainty going into the Games. She'd known from the start that they couldn't stay together forever. But she hadn't expected the split to happen quite this soon. It was only … what? The second day of the Games? Maybe the third? There wasn't really a good way to tell, but there were still twenty-two tributes left. More than half of their original number. That was a bit early, wasn't it?

Etora shook the thought from her head. Yes, there were still more than half the number of tributes there had been at the start. But they'd already lost almost half the pack. Probably. There was something wrong with the faces that had appeared, but surely Macauley and Elliot would have come back by now if they were still alive. It wasn't as if the rest of them were trying not to be found. They were right were anyone would expect the Careers to be.

As for Darian, he probably wasn't coming back, either. Whether or not Genevieve was right about him joining up with their district partners, he'd been gone too long to simply have lost his way. He was gone for good.

So maybe it was time for her to disappear, too.

No, not just 'maybe.' It was time to leave; she was sure of it. Whatever advantages there might be to staying were outweighed by the dangers. If there were only four of them, they couldn't leave two of them to guard the supplies. That would mean only two of them could go hunting, which wouldn't be a good option.

So they would have to leave only one, if any. And none of them were good option. Justus wouldn't want to stay; he wanted to be in charge, which was no good if there was no one to be in charge of. Genevieve was too impatient to stick around the cornucopia doing nothing. Mae would seem like an easy target for anyone who happened to find her alone at the cornucopia. And the others wouldn't want to leave Etora alone, in case she simply disappeared like Darian had.

Like she was about to do.

Etora took a deep breath and packed a few more things into her bag. A little more food. A blowgun with a few darts. A couple more knives. Nothing the others were likely to miss. Nothing that would slow her down. She couldn't afford to move slowly once she was away from the pack.

As quietly as she could, she headed for the door she'd been eyeing for a while, directly across from the direction they'd gone before. Yes, it was probably the direction the others would go once they decided to go hunting again. But with any luck, it would be hours before then – more than enough time to put a good bit of distance between them, or to take a left turn instead of a right after passing through the door.

Only once she'd reached the door without any incident did Etora risk a glance back at the others. Mae was watching her. Damn. She'd thought all of the others were asleep. But Mae was sitting up, watching her with curious eyes. But if she was going to wake the others, she would have done it by now. Wouldn't she? Maybe she realized what Etora did – that letting her go quietly would be the best way to avoid a fight among the Careers. That was better, wasn't it? If she left quietly, then none of the others would have to choose sides. That was certainly better for them.

And it was better for her, too. No matter who the others sided with, the chances of her coming out of a fight between the Careers completely unharmed seemed pretty slim. And it was still early. Too early to put a target on her back. If she left now, without causing a rift between the others, they wouldn't really have a reason to come after her, even if Mae told them which direction she had gone.

Still gripping her dagger tightly, Etora took a step through the door. Then another. Still, Mae did nothing. Okay, then. She turned and ran, waiting for some sound from the others, some sign that Mae had woken them. Nothing. Good. Now all she had to do was get as far away as she could.

Then she could worry about the rest.

Tamsin Lane
District Eleven Mentor

At least she wouldn't have to worry about Shanali for a while.

Tamsin yawned as Shanali, Kilian, and Ronan settled down in the next room, the one filled with armor. It hadn't taken them long to shut the doors and snuff out the candles. Now Kilian was keeping watch, and the other two were sleeping soundly.

Across the arena, most of the other tributes were resting, as well. Maybe they'd managed to maintain some sense of when it was nighttime. It was around midnight, after all. The second night of the Games. Thirteen tributes were dead already.

And Shanali had killed, which was certain to keep the audience happy for a while. Sure, it hadn't been a particularly long fight or a difficult one, but she'd proven she was willing to kill. That was worth a lot, as far as the audience was concerned. The Gamemakers would probably let them be for a while.

Probably. There was always the fact that there was a griffin in the next room, but Merrik and Skyton had seemed content to settle down for the night, as well. Skyton was sleeping peacefully on the mutt's back, and Merrik was curled up beside them. They were probably counting on the mutt scaring away any tributes who happened to find them. And considering there was only one way in or out of the room – and that the one door led to the room where Shanali, Kilian, and Ronan had settled down – they would probably sleep undisturbed for a while.

The tributes from Two, meanwhile, had settled down at the base of the stairs, figuring it would be a good vantage point. They already knew there weren't any other tributes on the stairs, so the chances of someone sneaking up on them were pretty slim. In any case, the only other tribute in the area was Etora, who had found her way to the treasure room. And even she was making her way in the opposite direction.

Back at the center of the arena, the three remaining Careers from One were resting undisturbed. Mae had taken over keeping watch when she'd seen Etora sneaking off, and hadn't bothered waking any of the others yet. Maybe she didn't want to explain that she'd simply let Etora sneak off. Maybe she wasn't tired. In any case, it would probably be a while before she woke either of the others.

A few rooms away, Retro was still keeping watch while Ti slept, both of them unaware that Macauley had settled down in the next room. For a little while, she'd been eyeing the door that led back to the cornucopia, but had apparently decided against heading back in that direction for now. Instead, she'd curled up in the large wardrobe, sleeping soundly for the moment.

Far below any of the other groups, Vashti, Mariska, and Barlen were making their way through the underground maze, heading away from the room where the griffin had crashed through the window. Or, at least, they'd started out heading away from it. Tamsin couldn't tell exactly where they were now, but they'd apparently decided that moving on together would be safer for a while. They certainly didn't seem interested in settling down for the night.

Neither did Wes' group, but they didn't have much of a choice. The four of them were still awake, eating a little more of the supplies that Consus had procured from the cornucopia. It was only a matter of time before they would have to get some rest, but none of them seemed to want to be the one to suggest it. Wes had hit on the right idea earlier without realizing it; the Gamemakers were waiting for them to turn on each other. Any suggestion that the others go to sleep would immediately raise suspicions about whoever had offered to stay awake.

But they couldn't stay awake forever, either – not without getting irritable and restless. Tamsin glanced over at Violet, who was passed out on one of the couches. Not that Tamsin could really blame her for that. There wasn't much that even the most competent mentors could do about a situation like this. There wasn't really anything they could send, even if the sponsors were willing. They already had food, water, and weapons. It was just a matter of how soon one of them decided to use one of those weapons.

The gift she had sent Shanali, however, had served its purpose quite well. It had gotten the three of them moving, not to mention reinforcing the idea that Shanali had done the right thing. Not the easy thing, by any means. She would probably feel guilty for a while, considering Nephelle hadn't had anything more dangerous than a musical instrument at her disposal. But she was alive, and she and her allies would probably be safe for a while.

"Are you sure the water wasn't overkill?" Elijah asked, taking a seat on the next couch.

Tamsin looked up, shrugging. "Maybe. But the audience liked it. Nothing like sending them exactly what the tribute she killed was looking for. Besides, I wanted to see what she'd do."

Elijah shook his head. "And?"

"And what?"

"And did she pass the test? She looked a bit rattled, but—"

"But that's good," Tamsin finished. "That's what the audience wants to see. They don't want to see hardened killers, fighting without mercy or remorse. Or, at least, they don't want an arena full of them. One or two? That's entertaining. Any more than that, and they wouldn't seem like teenagers anymore. And that's the fun – watching kids try to deal with an impossible situation. I'd say she's handling herself pretty well." She leaned back a little, smiling.

"Let's just hope they can keep it up."

"Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill."