Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M

Last night was the most amazing day I've had so far in the arena. Even though I didn't manage to get my hands on Nikki, we killed her allies, including one of our most formidable opponents in the Games, as well as another tribute, the weak Twelve girl. Now that Tiffany and I have solidified our position in the Final Eight, I'm not as thirsty for Nikki's blood as I was before. I'll get to taste it eventually, but right now all I want to do is celebrate our victory.

We scour the beach for the rest of the night anyway, but find nothing. I'm sure the audience loves my maniacal grin as I swing my bloodstained axe in front of me, the sky flowing red and orange as the sun rises.

"This is useless," Tiffany finally says as we reach the waterfall. The thundering of the water makes her words difficult to hear. "She got a headstart, and she has fear on her side. She could be miles away."

"What do you suggest?" I ask.

"We need to head back to the Cornucopia and rest," she says. "Then we can go hunting again."
The idea doesn't sound great at first. Despite our lack of sleep and hours of searching, I don't feel tired in the slightest. However, I know what message Tiffany's words are hiding. She's wondering about Hadrian, and what shape he's in. He hasn't died, but he could very well be unconscious and as good as dead, or even up and walking again. The second option makes me feel sick, and fills me with rage.

"Calm down for a minute of your life," Tiffany says in annoyance. I glance up at her piercing blue eyes to see her watching me. My anger must have shown on my face. Her own is smeared with blood, so I point to my own cheekbone where the Twelve girl's blood stains her perfect skin. She reaches up and touches it gingerly, before wiping it away with disgust.

"Sorry. By the way, great job killing a weakling," she sing-songs as I walk backwards ahead of her. "Whose killed the strongest tribute now?

I frown, thinking about the eight-scorer that I killed during the bloodbath. Jason Sparks scored a nine, making him an even more impressive kill. I should have done it myself, but I was preoccupied with the girl.

"At least I didn't kill a pregnant girl," My laugh booms off the cliff that rises up around us, scaring a few birds into flight that are nesting on a ledge.

Tiffany raises an eyebrow at me, unbothered. "She was a tribute, same as us. If you want to win, maybe you should focus on making kills, not bragging."

"Is that what you're doing? I don't think I've ever heard you brag."

"I'll take that as a yes," she says, discreetly wiping the blood on her hand onto her jacket. "We're almost out of water, anyways."

I roll my eyes and turn back around, slining my axe over my back. I grab the slippery rocks beside the waterfall and hoist myself up. I'll go back to the Cornucopia with Tiffany, sure. But not for the same reasons that she is. My bloodlust for Nikki may have ceased momentarily, but I still need that sweet taste of death on my lips. And who has caused us more problems that even Nikki? It's the brutish idiot that is waiting for us at the golden horn. Regardless of what shape he's in when we return, the sand will soak up his blood.

Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F

I ran as long and as far as I could before collapsing into the sand. The sun was just coming up when I stopped, and I stay in that position until the sun is positioned in the clear blue sky perfectly. I know the Careers have probably given up the chase by now, or at least have lost my trail. If they do find me, I will fight them off with everything that I have.

I eventually pick myself up off the ground, shoving away any thoughts except those of revenge. I will have the chance to avenge Jason and Eryn, and wallowing in their deaths won't change anything. All I can do is assure that one of their murderers doesn't become a celebrity that is adored by the nation. Jason deserved the victory, and now I'll have to win it for him.

Just thinking about his electric blue eyes makes me tear up and simultaneously ball my fists with rage. I scream as I toss myself into the gently flowing water of the sea, taking a few moments underwater to calm myself. The difficulty breathing helps me get ahold of my senses. I will not die, no matter what. I need to do. Jason was the only person that made me feel anything in a long time, but I've had a whole life to learn how to become an emotionless killing machine. I can do it for a few more weeks.

I come up for air, gasping desperately and pushing my hair back. Water trails over my face and body. I wish I could just swim away from all of this. Away from the arena, away from Panem itself and to somewhere else that must surely exist.

But that is just a fantasy. I am stuck here, without food and water, and only my trident to help me exact my revenge.

I swim out as far as I deem safe, spending as long as I can in the water. It reminds me of my time training in Four. All students at the Academy were taught how to survive in water, of course, but my parents forced me to do extra training, to spend as much as a day in the water. The waves feel like home to me, the smell of sea salt and fish filling my nose, the sensation of seaweed gently caressing my feet when I swim closer to shore.

I swim back to the safety of the sand, looking out to where the large, curved rocks jut out of the sea. They're still quite far away, but in reachable distance for today. It will be a good place to sleep for the night.

Tomas Fields (15)- D11M

I'm roughly awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of two cannons booming throughout the arena. I shiver and wrap my jacket tighter around myself, the smell of sea salt filling my nose. The waves crash against my rock, spraying water up over me. I can only hope that whoever killed the victims are far away, preferably on the other side of the arena. I'm not sure I could run away, let alone fight back if I noticed the Careers were near me. My head is still fuzzy, despite drinking water last night. My eyelids are unimaginably heavy, and I drift off to sleep minutes later, wondering vaguely if I will even wake up in the morning.

But, of course, I do. The sunlight hurts my skin as I blink back into the world hours later. I can only imagine how sunburned I am, and how I must look. Am I even recognizable as the boy who pushed the Reaping ball off the stage?

I slowly slide off of my curved rock and begin making more water. My stomach is growling incessantly, but I ran out of my dried vegetables a long time ago. My only reprieve is the water that I hope I'm boiling correctly. It doesn't taste like salt, but I could be just extremely thirsty so that I don't even notice. My vision is still blurry at times, and my body feels heavy. At this point, I'm not sure dying in my sleep would be the worst thing in the world.

I wonder what my family said in their final eight interviews. Did my father show up, or did he refuse to participate? What did my mother think about me revealing my true parentage to the nation? I might never know.

I'm lying spread-eagled on the sand, not caring if someone comes across me and slices my throat, when I hear the tinkling of a parachute from somewhere above me. I think I'm imagining it at first, but then I spot the silver descending from the sky, the sun reflecting off the shiny surface. I eagerly stand and wait for it to come to me, leaning up on my tiptoes to grab it. Inside is a canteen full of clean drinking water. I grin to myself as I unscrew the lid and take a swig. It tastes so much better than my reformed seawater that I even laugh a little in happiness.

I notice a tiny slip of paper in the case, so I grab it and unfurt it to read in the blinding sun. Eleven pooled money together to send this- Seeder. My heart constricts inside my chest. The poor people of Eleven, who sometimes struggle to put food on the table, helped sponsor me? Why? I don't even have pure Eleven blood.

I sigh and sit back down in the sand, taking a real look at my surroundings for the first time. This really isn't a good place to be, out in the open where anyone on the beach or on the cliff could see me. I gather my things and pack them in my backpack, tossing the parachute and silver case into the ocean so that it will hopefully be washed away. I return to my large, curved, rock, which is apparently my home now. It seems safe, at least; the curve blocks me from view and is high enough that I would have an advantage if someone found me, but it's small and rough.

I have to win, for my district, I think to myself, taking another drink of water. Eleven has gone a long time without a victor that they must be excited to see me in the final eight. I owe it to them to win this thing.

I lay around on the rock, the sharp, jagged parts jabbing my back. The sun is in the middle of the sky when I start to hear strange noises. Perhaps the tide is starting to pick up? But if I'm not mistaken, I can hear someone walking in the water. I hesitantly turn to look beyond my rock, and jolt when I see the girl from Four wading through the water. She climbs up onto a rock not far away, but just back enough that she won't be able to see me if I don't move. I hold my breath fearfully, trying not to move. What do I do? What choices do I have except to stay here and hope she doesn't see me?

Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M

After last night, Tag and I haven't spoken much. He told me after I woke up that two cannons went off during his watch, and that's it. We spend the morning silently exploring the cave system, finding nothing of real interest. The only thing worth noting is a strange hole in the ground filled with water that is definitely a Gamemaker trap. Both of us are wise enough to steer clear of it and explore further, but overall, there isn't much to see.

"We should stay near the entrance," I say as we make our way back. "That way we can see if someone is coming, and we know the way through the caves to escape."

Tag nods without looking at me. I know he still must be upset, but fighting won't solve anything. When we return to the entrance, we sit and watch the desert. The insects are chirping loudly, the sun beating down on the sand. It must be ten degrees cooler in the shade, but we're still sweating profusely. I wipe some sweat out of my eyes and watch a group of birds pass over us, squawking indignantly.

Against the other wall of the cave, Tag is tying together some twigs he found under some bushes outside the cave. He's using some flexible twigs to tie the bigger branches together, but the smaller ones keep breaking. He huffs as another one snaps in half, throwing it to the ground. I don't know what he's trying to make, but I assume it's a trap of some kind. A trap for food would be nice, as long as it's not too large and suspicious. Maybe I should tell him that, but I think he would take it as an opportunity to argue more, so I stay silent. We still have some meat from the large cat, anyway. It's skin and fur is laying just outside the cave where no one can see it, but it's starting to attract flies and pests. We could throw it over the cliff, but someone might see it and deduce where we are. And I'm sure Tag plans to use it in some way.

"I need more sticks," he says flatly after a few minutes. "Watch my back."

"Fine," I say. He stands and steps outside the cave cautiously, looking around for anyone or anything that could pose a threat. He keeps his knife firmly in his hand as he gathers some sticks from the brown, nearly dead bushes along the mountain. He returns with an armful, plopping down on the ground and starting again. After an hour or so of trying, he has a fairly successful simple trap, large enough to capture a rabbit or snake or anything else worth eating.

"What do you think?" he asks proudly, "I'm not so useless after all."

"I never said you were useless," I say gruffly. "Where will you set it up?"

"Right here," he says with a grin. "If something tries to walk in the cave, it'll get stuck."

"Are you sure it will work?" I ask skeptically. The part that's supposed to be rope is just pieces of twigs tied together, and I'm not sure it will withstand the weight and force of an animal.

"Trust me," Tag says, placing the trap in front of the entrance, hidden somewhat by a bush. "My friends and I did things like this all the time. You have to use what you have."

"You made traps?" I ask doubtfully.

"No," he sneers. "But we made anything we could with whatever we could find. It was our job."

I don't answer this time. Tag moves us further into the cave so that animals won't be afraid to come near the trap. I have my doubts, but I don't voice them. If he puts his energy into this, then he can't put it into hunting other tributes.

Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M

The day is hot and heavy and wet, the sun hanging lowly above me. Inside the Cornucopia, I have some reprieve from the sunlight, but the metal on the outside heats up and makes the inside unbearable. I find myself sitting outside the golden horn, in the shadow that it casts, blocking the sun out with my hand. I apply the medicine every couple of hours, trying to stand with my splint on my leg. My body still hurts exponentially, but I'm able to walk a bit, and even swing my sword. Then after tiring myself out, I plop back down again on the ground and eat some pork and fruits from our supplies.

I've spent so much time alone now that I've sorted all of our supplies and stacked them for easy access. Hopefully when Tiger and Tiffany return, they will be grateful and realize I'm able to fight with them. But I know that that probably won't be the case. Tiger hates me, and Tiffany doesn't care much whether I live or die. If they come to see me awake and capable, they might decide to get rid of me once and for all. The thought of having to fight both of them fills me with fear. I could take on a lesser tribute for sure, but both of my companions are formidable fighters.

I'm laying in the shade, my sword at my side, watching the birds fly above me, listening to the insects chirp. Then I hear something else, and see a twinkle of silver above me. It couldn't be another gift. I've already received too much for what I've done in these Games. But it is! I quickly stand and grasp upwards for the parachute.

I open the package eagerly, pleased to see the familiar rolls of District Two. The round rolls are cooked with raisins and oats. The bread is tough, just like I remember, when I pick it up. It makes me smile. Underneath them, is a photo that surprises me. It's a small cat, solid gray, in my brother's lap. I recognize the cat, it's one of the many street cats that live in Victor's Village. It had taken a liking to Cassius after he came back from the Capitol. He joked that he should name it Bellona after the Head Gamemaker, since it starting running his life. That joke always made me laugh, and it does now as well.

Photos are rare gifts in the Games. This must have cost my brother a fortune to send. His status as a victor probably helped as well. Beside the picture is a note from my mentors. Don't let your guard down. You're our victor- Celia and Cato.

I nod as I place the note back inside the case, so they know I understand their meaning. I take a bite out of a roll, sighing as the taste of cinnamon and raisins hits my tongue. It's been so long since I've had some genuine Two cooking. Capitolite food is lavish and fine, but nothing compares to food from home.

I hold up the picture of the cat, studying what I can see of my brother in the picture. I can't disappoint him, or the district that sent me this bread.

I painstakingly stand, feeling my joins protest. My shoulder screams in pain, but I grit my teeth and hold myself steady. I grip my sword tightly, swinging it in front of me. My strokes aren't as powerful as they used to be, but I'll be able to hold my ground if I keep my head on straight. I need to remember why I'm doing this: for my family, my district, my country. But most importantly, myself. I will be the victor of the Seventy-Seventh Hunger Games.

Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F

My nights have been filled with terrible nightmares since I killed the Five girl. Terrifying dreams of demons holding me down as I sleep are pervading what's supposed to be my only reprieve from the Games, and I can only hope it will let up soon. I speculate it has something to do with the fact that I have now killed a person, something I will never be able to come back from.

Don't think about it. I tell myself sternly. It would be of no use to get hung up on things like this. It's not like I had a choice to kill her; she was the one that told me we had to fight! And this is the name of the game, after all. If I want to survive, I would have to kill eventually. I keep telling myself this over and over, hoping it will stop the nightmares.

I spend most of my day sitting around eating grapes and reading. But I'm over halfway through with the journal, so I force myself to slow down and take more breaks to sit and stare over the cliff at the desert. If I ran out of pages to read, I might go mad from boredom. I'm used to being busy all day in Ten. I'm starting to tire of eating grapes, too, but I try not to think about that either. I should be grateful that I have anything to eat at all.

My water supply is weaning, but I make sure to ration it out for at least today and maybe tomorrow. After I run out, I might actually have to leave my little hideout… but I don't want to think about that. I can deal with my problems as they come.

It's easy to sit in my shack and read, and pretend that I'm back at home reading a book that one of my teachers at school managed to snap for me. It happened sometimes when I was in middle school. The teachers would do their best to get books from the Capitol that weren't instructional or histories of Panem, and give them to us when they could. I would read when I had the time, but when I got older, I had to take on more responsibilities at the ranch. I've forgotten how much I loved to read, and escape to somewhere else for a little while, especially somewhere as perfect as in this journal.

Many people apparently lived in these mountains before we were here, and two lovers lived in this shack. It's sweet to read about them doing normal, everyday things; taking care of their crops and livestock, fishing down at the shore, spending time with other people at a late-night meal. It reminds me of my schedule in Ten.

But there are the dark parts of the journal as well. One of the lovers isn't always happy, and sometimes goes into great fits of anger. The other is the one that keeps this journal, who is flighty, and always suggests that they should leave the mountains and sail somewhere else, to find a better, more prosperous place to live. They argue sometimes about leaving.

Still, I'm happy to keep reading it. I know it isn't real, just something that the Gamemakers planted to add some intrigue for the audience. I don't doubt that they are shown various pages of the book as I'm reading it, so that they can follow along somewhat.

But then I come across the worst part of the journal.

The angry, stubborn one starts having terrifying nightmares about a demon. It comes and sits on my chest and tries to strangle me. The quote in the journal reads. I feel a full-body shudder run through me at that. It's impossible .There's no way that I have the same dreams as a made-up character in this book. That would be ridiculous. I'm just too tired and bored that I'm making things up. I close the book and set it on the ground, taking another sip of water. It's time for lunch anyway.

Spool Nylon (12)- D8M

Seb and I are sitting at the cave with the pool of water. The dark water ripples with the gentle breeze that whistles through the caves, as if guiding us menacingly into its dark depths. I don't trust it in the least little bit. I keep my eye on it as Seb watches over the cliff with keen eyes.

"I see someone," he says suddenly at about midday. "The girl from Four."

I scramble over to the side of the cliff, staring over the beach. The girl's long brown hair swings behind her back as she sprints over the sand.

"She's running from someone," I say.

"There's no one else," he says flatly.

"Why else would she be running?"

He doesn't answer. He must not like it when I outsmart him.

"Whatever," I huff. "We can't do anything to her up here."

The girl runs completely across the beach, stopping at the formations of curved rocks and finding one to camp out on.

"We could go down there are kill her," I realize suddenly. "She's setting up camp! She wouldn't know that we were coming, and she's a ten scorer like you! We could make a name for themselves!"

But my excitement is cut short by Seb's callous reply: "We won't be going anywhere. This place is safe, and you already set up traps for food. Are you going to abandon it?"
"We have to kill if we want to survive-"

"We can keep an eye on her up here," he interrupts me sharply. "There would be no sense in leaving right now."

I get to my feet, balling my fists angrily. "I should never have allied with you! A whole lot of good it's done me!"

"Tag-" he tries to say, but I stomp away before he can finish. I have the knife that he's afraid to use, and without any supplies he will surely die, even if he did score a ten. I can survive on my own.

As I near the cave at the entrance, I start to hear strange sounds. Is it Seb coming after me? No, it's coming from ahead of me. I cautiously creep forward, then straighten up with a grin when I see what it is. Another one of the large cats is trapped in the trap that I set up earlier. It looks up and stops it's struggling as I approach, its eyes wide and frightened as the grip of twigs around its neck tightens.

Then it suddenly breaks out into a loud yowling sound, unlike anything I've ever heard come out of a cat. Outside the cave, a dozen other cats appear, all of them baring their teeth and hissing at me. The one in the trap growls at me, the tufts of fur on the tips of its ears and around its head growing longer, its eyes narrowing at me and turning red. Its teeth turn into vicious fangs, and soon its head and mouth are much larger than before, the fur sticking straight out and its mouth making a hissing sound like a snake. It yowls again and the other answer, before dashing in synchronization toward me.

I immediately turn back and run for my life, blood pounding in my ears. The sounds of the cats growling just behind me, nipping at my heels, keeps me sprinting through the caves.

"Tag!" I hear Seb yell, then the pitiful yelp of a cat. He speeds up to match my pace, breathing heavily as we run.

"What happened?" he asks incredulously between breaths.

"The trap may not have been such a good idea," I yell, glancing behind us to see the cats hissing at us, their tongues long and hanging out of their mouths. Their glowing red eyes have my feet moving faster.

"The caves won't go on forever," Seb shouts. "What do we do?"

I can only register for a moment that he's asking me for advice. We make a sharp right turn, and only a few caves ahead of us, there is another cliff, a straight drop to the sharp rocks below.

"We head for the cliff!"

"What?"
 I don't answer, but he continues following my lead until the cliff is just a few feet ahead. Then I grab his arm and pull him away just in time, so that we skid out of the cats' path. They don't have time to slow down before they barrel right over the cliff, yowling all the way down to the bottom.

Only two cats manage to keep their balance and jump straight towards us, their eyes bulging with feral rage. One growls ferociously as it jumps toward me, but I hold my knife up in front of me and it impales itself onto the blade. It whimpers and falls limp against me. I grunt as I shove it away from me, turning to see Seb wrestling with the other cat. He manages to push it over the cliff before I can get to him, and we can hear it hissing until it hits the ground.

We sit and pant for a while, trying to catch our breath.

"That was a close one," I say. Then I notice Seb is holding his forearm strangely, his opposite hand covering it. "What's wrong?" I ask sharply, moving closer to him.

He lifts up his hand to reveal two deep puncture wounds in his arm where the creature bit him. Blood slowly leaks out, but the wound doesn't seem deep.

"I'll be fine," he says. "Just need to keep it covered."

"We should clean it," I say, standing and brushing the sand from my pants. "Back to the river we go."

Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F

Tiger and I traipse the arena in the burning heat, sweating profusely. Tiger marches forward with purpose, his brows furrowed and a smirk on his lips. His skin is golden and damp beneath the sun, his muscles bulging through his clothes. The Capitolite women will be drinking in his appearance right now, hoping they will get a chance to see him in person after he wins. He would look amazing in his specially tailored suits, shaking Caesar Flickerman's hand and waving to the crowd.

But he's not as handsome as Price, my boyfriend. He will look even better in those suits, and the Capitolites will desire us.

I'm the one that has killed the Sparks boy after all. Tiger has done nothing but be a nuisance to me and Hadrian, threatening to kill him and acting unstable. But, he is from District One. It's my duty to support him so that he wins if I don't.

As the Cornucopia comes into view, I slide my sword out of the sheath on my back, preparing for the worst. I need to help defend Tiger if he makes a rash decision to challenge Hadrian. Tiger's footsteps speed up, a maniacal grin on his face as he swings in axe in front of him.

"Hadrian!" he shouts, pacing in front of the mouth of the Cornucopia. "Where are you, coward?"

"Here." A figure stumbles out from behind the golden horn, his eyes narrowed in determination. He uses his broadsword as a cane at first, but then lifts it into the air, his biceps bulging. He towers over Tiger. "Is this really what you want to do?"

"Shut up and fight me!" Tiger brandishes his axe menacingly. I realize for the first time, as Hadrian steps forward heavily, that Tiger might not win this battle. I didn't expect Hadrian to heal so quickly, or even be able to walk at all. I glance around the base of the supply mounds and see two silver cases and parachutes laying around. I thought his district would have lost faith in him by now, but apparently not. He won't be easy to kill.

Hadrian lifts his sword over his head and brings it down sharply, but Tiger easily dodges it, staying crouched as he swings his axe toward Hadrian's side. Hadrian parries the blow and twists the blade away, and the two of them slowly sidestep in a circle around each other, glaring into the other's eyes. I decide not to intervene yet, if at all. This is Tiger's fight after all, and I wouldn't want to anger him.

Tiger screams in fury as he suddenly rushes forward, slicing at Hadrian neck. Hadrian manages to flinch away, but the heavy blade of the axe grazes his cheekbone, and blood pours down his face. Tiger dashes forward again, this time aiming for Hadrian's legs. The Two Career stumbles and loses his balance, wincing from his sliced cheek and the pain from his existing injuries. I notice as he nearly falls that he's wearing a splint on his leg underneath his pants. Perhaps this fight is stacked in Tiger's favor after all, like I originally thought. It doesn't surprise me. District Two has its fair share of brutish tributes, but One is by far the superior district.

Tiger lunges forward again and Hadrian barely parries his blow, pushing him away with all his might. I can smell Hadrian's fear as he stumbles backwards again.

"You're a weak idiot, just like your brother," Tiger spits out venomously, circling Hadrian. "He had to kill half his strongest opponents in their sleep, and you allowed yourself to be injured by two weak tributes. A disgrace!"

He brandishes his axe again, but Hadrian stays put, only barely dodging the blows. He must be trying to conserve his energy.

"After I kill you, District Two will thank me for getting rid of you, and bow at my feet. I am the only tribute here who has what it takes to win! And I won't do it dishonorably!"

"You're just as dishonorable as Cassius," Hadrian says weakly, parrying a blow from Tiger. "No one can win with honor. You're the idiot if you think you can."
Tiger roars as he lunges forward again, but Hadrian actually manages to take him on for a little while. My grip on my sword handle grows tighter as I ponder Hadrian's words. Tiger is indeed a very strong tribute, but he is insane. Cassius Cato might have won in a displeasing way, but he isn't a nutcase. Will District One really welcome such a victor as Tiger?

No one can win with honor.

Tiger yelps in pain as Hadrian slices the tips of his sword over his chest, then looks down at where the blood slowly stains his shirt, roaring in fury and lunging again. Hadrian holds him off well. He knows how to stand his ground well. I raise my sword and step behind behind Tiger, unbeknownst to both of them.

"Panem will thank me for killing you!" Tiger screams.

"They will," I say, thrusting my sword through his abdomen.

The force with which I pull it back out has him falling to the ground, gasping for air as blood flows in rivers out of his body. His head turns as his wide and fearful eyes meet mine, standing over him. He chokes on his own blood for a minute or so, then falls silent. cannonshot is heard around the arena a second later.

"Tiffany…"

I look up to see Hadrian standing, sword in hand, still in a weary fighting stance.

"Relax," I say, wiping Tiger's blood onto the back of his jacket. "I was just tired of hearing his voice."

Hadrian smirks, letting his sword down. "Me too."

Hello everyone! I hope you all had a great week. I'm headed back to school tomorrow, so sadly the next update may take a while. On the other hand, it might actually come out very quickly as a way to relieve stress. Who knows! I certainly don't. This chapter, we lost Tiger.

8th: Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M- created by SurvivalAboveAll. Killed by Tiffany. Tiger was a great, well-rounded character that you could simultaneously feel bad for and hate at the same time. I applaud his creator for making him so fun to write about. I will sure miss writing from his perspective, and I hope the rest of you will miss reading about him. His parents and sister will definitely miss him as well.

We're down to seven tributes! Please review with what you thought of this chapter! See you next time!