Damon Archer, 14, D7M:

Somehow, the untreated water didn't kill me. I vomited for an unknown amount of time, until my throat felt chafed and sore, but eventually I ended up gasping for air in the crusty dried clay between the river reeds. It was a long time before I dared to try the water again. The purification capsules had plenty of time to work, and work they did, because there was no second onset of sickness. Nothing too exciting seemed to be happening nearby, and in a way, the dirty water might have actually saved me from a worse danger. The Gamemakers traditionally send out mutts to chase after boring tributes, and the sudden bout of retching coupled with the fear of it being fatal might have satiated the audience enough to protect me from manmade obstacles. The ones found here in the arena are more than enough.

Of course, now I'm faced with a dilemma. What else is there to do? I found a reliable water source with a built-in defensive mechanism in the form of what I have determined is quicksand. This is the perfect place to build a camp. My strength has rapidly returned so I decide to increase my supply of food, especially since I've completely finished my crackers. Axes aren't very conducive to hunting small game, which I learn as soon as I take the unfortunate squirrel down. It's kind of mangled, but my attempts at catching further prey prove unsuccessful, which means it'll have to do. Since the morning sun is shining, I'm comfortable with building a fire, and it's not long before I have an unevenly cooked squirrel.

I apply some sunscreen, use the bathroom (not that there's really a bathroom out here), drink a little more water, and wait for night to fall. Needless to say, night does not fall, because it's still very early in the day. It's hard to resist giving in and eating the squirrel, but the smell of meat is tantalizing and will draw every predator in the arena to me if I don't do something. I begin gnawing on the charred side first and learn that it doesn't taste all that pleasant. The meat is tough and stringy and burnt and it keeps sticking to the back of my throat. The more evenly cooked side is worse in texture but not nearly as offensive flavor-wise. While I choke it down, I try to think of the good, happy food that Ma made. The gingham tablecloth and platters piled high with breakfast potatoes, the stewed onions with wild arugula, the pies she baked.

I wonder what Ma's doing. Even though the Games have actually only been going on for a few days, it feels to me, and probably to her, like they've been dragging on forever. It's strange to imagine my father going through the same thing, but no, he didn't have to. He died in the Bloodbath of his Games. Ma will be completely alone if I die too. I consider the Careers. Four remain. The ones that are left seem to be the highest-scoring of the bunch, most notably the girl who received a perfect Twelve. Two have already been killed, including the boy who stole my token in the Training Center, which I instinctively touch.

It belonged to my father before me. Will it ensure that I eventually share his fate? One thing's for sure: it's probably not a good luck charm. I haven't had a whole lot to be thankful for, but I'm very grateful the Careers haven't found me. My motivation is simple. I don't want to die, painfully or otherwise. I want to make it out of the arena and get back to Ma. I want to be safe, not just temporarily protected from the threats of sadistic Gamemakers and brutal killing machines. All of my troubles boil down to these Hunger Games that the Capitol forced me into, but I'm behaving exactly as I should, refraining from talking badly about the government and acting like I'm oh-so-okay with being here.

I need to endure this so I can make it home, because only one person survives the Hunger Games. Perhaps it's selfish, perhaps it's instinct, but I'm willing to do anything, anything at all to escape. The Hunger Games are the Capitol's way of reminding us of their control, and I don't dare to forget it. After all, only last night, I was close to death. I depend on the audience's generosity to survive, and my life is now controlled by the whims of people I've never met.

Quelling rebels like me is all about inflicting enough pain to keep us desperate for their help.

Ardledge Merton, 18, D4M:

Our traps are ruined. In fact, our entire camp has more or less been ransacked. The spindly trees and fake foliage we strung onto them have been toppled. The foliage itself has been shredded. Our careful snares and tripwire were all snapped. The enormous bull that came hurtling through it last night is now dead. It had run straight into one of our spear-lined pit traps, but it took some additional work to finish it off.

The bad news is that a good chunk of our supplies have been demolished, including most of our food. The only edible thing we have is a half-eaten packet of jerky. The good news is that once the bull was dead, Griffin suggested cooking it. I was a little bit apprehensive about eating a mutt, especially because Gamemakers in past years have made them poisonous, so he offered to eat it first to make sure it was safe. Emily, to my surprise, offered to butcher it. She explained that, in District Ten, the rancher she worked for used to perform butchering in her presence, and she could think back and try to remember what he did.

While she worked on that and Griffin fashioned a spit, Chip and I built a fire. His wrist is looking significantly better. The skin has puckered together in a jagged line, with no flesh or bone showing. It's still gnarly, but I can look at it without flinching, and none of us can detect any signs of infection. Once we had cooked the first cut of meat, Griffin confirmed it wasn't making him sick, so the rest of us dug in too. I was half-wondering if the poison was just slow-acting, but no, it was safe.

This morning, we're in the tent, eating freshly roasted beef on the bone. The Gamemakers truly are unpredictable, but apparently they were feeling generous, because the meat tastes good. Even with only our haphazard attempt at cooking, it's melt-in-your-mouth tender. I wonder if the other tributes are faring well. Do they have this kind of food? This single bull will be able to feed the four of us for a long time. I make some statement to the effect of "Yeah, we'll never go hungry if we have this!" but then Chip interjects with some wisdom of his own.

"Sure, but we can't take it with us. There's no way we could carry it all. And how are we going to preserve it? It's going to decay eventually."

"Well," Emily muses, "We could pack snow around it. That would keep it good, at least temporarily."

"Then we should probably do that now," Chip adds. "It might be snowy, but the sun's pretty strong this time of day. And I for one don't want to learn what rotting cow guts smell like."

"I think that goes for all of us," I agree. I unzip the tent flap and step outside, but the ground feels strange. When I look down, I realize why. I'm standing in at least a foot of water. My boots protect me, but when I survey the landscape, I get another shock. These are not trees I recognize. The supplies we had outside the tent are nowhere in sight. The Gamemakers put our area of the arena underwater, and apparently we, in our tent, have been aimlessly drifting on the surface of it for several hours.

My allies crowd around me, wanting to know what's happening, and we come to the conclusion that this is absolutely not good. We had the bull carcass outside, and after only two meals, it's gone. We have nothing but the meat we were eating and some dried meat strips. Normally, I'm a pretty optimistic person, but this definitely has me feeling lower than usual. Being lost with no food and only two bottles of water can do that to a person, and I'm hoping that Winnie and Adrian are somewhere else. Perhaps Adrian is busy eating his own breakfast, or maybe Winnie's giving him a bath. Maybe they're down at the marina, maybe Winnie's taking him with her while she fishes. Fishes?

I'm back in the tent in a second, and out again in two more. The fishing supplies I was sponsored will come in handy now. A rod, some tackle, a few hooks. I've been fishing for years. I explain to my friends that I need some space to do this safely, so I wade out twenty yards or so. I cast a few times, getting the feel of the current, trying to guess what bait the fish will be most attracted to today. I get a bite, and the fish tugs hard, but I win, watching the bail turn in its hypnotic elliptical motion as I walk backwards. Griffin holds out his shield and I trade it for my line and rod, which he holds firmly.

I pull the fish out, grasping it around the middle. Untangling the hook from its mouth, I set it in the upturned shield, readying my tanto for the killing blow, but I drop it, shrieking with surprise and pain as it somehow leaps up four feet in the air to my exposed neck, furiously sinking its teeth around my collarbone.

Jenna Reyer, 18, D7F:

I've always been an honest and rather serious person, but yesterday I discovered the fun in lying. Elle is the most boring person imaginable. Her only two personality traits are being arrogant and suddenly hating people for no reason. She's like a cardboard cutout, flat and dull. At the Bloodbath, she was super helpful,but then she went stark raving mad and decided she wanted Radley dead. When I asked her why, she got all huffy and refused to explain.

I was messing around with the supplies, trying to figure out a way to slink off without alerting her, when I took the first lozenge. The effect was instantaneous. My head cleared, my senses sharpened, and I felt shockingly rejuvenated. I thought to turn the bottle upside-down and discovered they were for energy restoration. One lozenge can eliminate your need for sleep for two days. I couldn't have her putting her paws all over something so valuable, so I did the only thing I could do: I acted as though I was discovering it for the first time, then acted really zonked out. It worked like a charm, she wanted nothing to do with it. Then, on a whim, she decided to go hunting for Radley.

She told me to stay put until she returns. Once she had been gone for a few hours, I packed up all the supplies she hadn't taken with her and went in the opposite direction. I didn't encounter many threats, and I tried to catalogue the remaining tributes. Who might I have to face? The first people that come to mind are the Careers. Two have already died. Four remain, the pairs from One and Two. Both Threes are still alive. Most of the big alliance is left too, the Ten girl and the boys from Four, Eleven, and Twelve. The Six boy is alive, as is Damon. Elle, obviously, is still around, and Radley must be also. His district partner is also alive. The last tribute is the girl from Eleven.

So who's a threat? All four Careers, of course. Damon, if he's as strong as his training score suggests, and if he risks incurring all of Seven's wrath to kill a tribute from his own district. Radley, but I doubt he would kill me either. And the girl from his district, who's kind of a wildcard. Truly, only one person outside of the Career Pack poses a danger to me.

Who will be the next to die? As much as I hate to admit it, each cannon that sounds is one less problem I have to contend with. The Threes are harmless, they got terrible scores, especially the boy. Six might go, he had kind of an average score and he seems like he fades into the background too much for anyone to truly care about him. The girl from Ten and boy from Twelve are just too young and inexperienced. And the Eleven girl is also kind of a runt, and a shy one at that. Damon, Elle, and the rest of the big alliance are maybes.

The Careers are my most substantial fear. They could attack me at any time, and they're known to go hunting for other tributes. I develop a plan for when I have to face off against them while I walk, crunching across the snow. Eventually, a scattering of brown and black dots peppers my vision. What could they be? They're far in the distance. They seem to be approaching at a rapid rate, though. I assume they're some sort of docile herd animal. As they draw nearer, I can make out huge bodies and long horns, and suddenly they're very close indeed. In fact, they're running, no, charging, directly at me.

Perched on a massive black bull is the Eleven girl. She has two backpacks that are hooked to one another. In one hand she carries an apple, in the other, a bullwhip. She's snapping the whip, urging the bulls on, and I hope that the trees conceal me so that they'll head past without a second glance. No such luck. I break into a run, zigzagging across the landscape, as the girl turns the bulls towards me. Suddenly she grows the apple at me, and I instinctively try to catch it. The bulls all swivel towards me, somehow doubling in speed, as each one hopes to be the one to get the fruit. A gargantuan hoof connects with my chest. The breath is knocked out of me at once and I crumple to the ground. A bone fragment is poking out of me, I can see the way it sliced through my clothes, but something prevents me from moving to staunch the bleeding.

I watch in horror as the girl slides down her bull's haunch, coming close, leaning over me, realizing that I made a dreadful mistake in underestimating her. I try to speak, to plead with her, try to bargain, maybe beg for mercy, but I find I can't. She slides a machete out of a scabbard at her hip and she grabs my head, tilting it back so my upturned throat is more easily accessible. The pain is sharp, and I feel disoriented and heady, and then it's like when someone snuffs out the candles in a room one by one. Segments of my vision go dark and disappear, until the final twinkle explodes in a starburst of black and the beginning of a cannon's boom ricochets in my ears.

Soren Ventra, 15, D3M:

I'm starting to feel a tad bit guilty about wishing death on Pola. It was excruciating to watch her try to pull herself to her feet and realize that her arm is paralyzed. She's getting used to doing things with her left hand, but she can only operate her weapon with her right, so we all have to trust in Zea's knife-throwing for the time being. Because Zea's the only one currently capable of defense, she's standing watch since Pola's kind of a sitting duck. As a result of this, I've somehow ended up with the job of waiting on her hand and foot. "Soren, could you please pass me the dried fruit?" she asks. I pointedly ignore her. "Soren, could you please pass me the dried fruit?" she repeats.

"Shut up, Pola! Get it yourself!" I spit.

"Soren," she says, very slowly and very loudly, "I need you to pass me the dried fruit." I reluctantly fork over the packet.

"Fine, fine, have it your way." She shoots me a withering glare.

"Thank you." She struggles to open it one-handed but eventually manages, then pops a flavorless piece of rubbery 'food' into her mouth.

"This is not fair!" I yell at the sky.

"Soren," Zea says, "Would you mind not screaming quite so shrilly? What if the Careers hear and come looking for us?" She's being awfully rude today. Last night I told her about how I ended up in juvie, and she seemed much more sympathetic than she does now.

"Then I'll beat their asses. Really, do you think I'm incompetent or something?" Pola raises an eyebrow knowingly. "Oh, you again! Do you think you get to treat me like crap just because you're down an arm?"

"No, but I think Zea has a point," comes the cool reply.

"This is not fair!" I screech again. "Sponsors, I need some help. I demand a luxury meal and a proper bed and some entertainment! And I want a giant hovercraft too!" I wait a few moments, but then I see a shimmer of silver. A parachute is headed for us. I eagerly snatch it out of midair. I doubt it's large enough to be a hovercraft or a bed, and I sniff it to see if there's food. Instead, a strong bitter smell assaults my nose. Then Pola grabs the package and shows where it says D3F on the side.

"Actually, I think this is for me."

"Fine! Have your stinky present or whatever!" She pulls out a large tub of something creamy and off-white. It's greasy-looking, with tiny blue particles suspended in it. For Pola's Arm, it's labeled. Pola wastes no time scooping up a generous dollop and rubbing it into her skin like lotion. Zea waits and watches. I wait and watch with her. Even if I dislike Pola,I'm hoping that the medicine works. How can she protect me if she's injured? As much as I enjoy lording my newfound power over her, she's a necessary part of the alliance.

Her arm twitches a little and scares me half to death. "It's coming back," she says, relieved. "Slowly, but it's coming back. I'm going to get better."

"How can I trust you?" I ask. "How do we know that you haven't just been faking so I'd have to pamper you?"

"Really Soren?" She looks almost amused as she smiles at me. "You think you can't trust me? You're not the most honest person yourself, you know."

"What's this about?" Zea asks, looking between us.

"Shut up, Pola!" I yell.

"No, I don't think I will. Zea, you've heard Soren complaining about being in juvenile detention, yes?"

"Of course, he whines about it every night."

"Have you ever paused to consider why he was sent there?"

"Pola, stop talking or I'm gonna stab you!" I hold up a stick, which Zea grabs and snaps over her knee. So much for threats.

"I have a most interesting story about it. Zea, you're aware of the way Soren loves playing the victim. How everything that goes awry is a personal affront to him, and how he's always in the right and everyone else is just a big ol' meanie. Well, when he was telling you of Genevieve's betrayal last night, he didn't exactly tell you the full thing."

"You don't get to say her name!" I shout, but Pola keeps talking.

"He conveniently omitted all the parts where he was at fault. There were a few details that he seems to have forgotten, and I feel it's my responsibility to inform you of just how much of an untrustworthy, backstabbing snake our friend Soren really is. Would you like me to tell you about it?"

"No!" I say.

"It sounds important. Please do," Zea says.

"Very well. It all started at the Kershaw Intermediate School of Engineering two years ago…"

Pola Velek, 15, D3F:

"...where Soren Ventra and I studied at the same time for a short while. He was snippy and pessimistic and nobody liked him except for one of the prettiest, nicest, most popular girls in the class. Her name was Genevieve Fitzgerald, and she was Soren's first and last friend. She was always very kind to him. She always looked out for him. More than once, she put her reputation on the line to keep him safe, because she cared about him as a good friend should. However, Soren was envious of Genevieve's other friends. He thought it was suspicious that she devoted attention to people other than him."

"Not true! Soren interrupts. "She spent a lot of time with them, which naturally means they were plotting against me!"

"He was either jealous that he had to share her with other people or very delusional. It doesn't really matter what his exact motivation was. Whatever the case, he was under the impression that Genevieve was being disloyal to him. You know when two people are dating and if one of them goes outside of the relationship, it's considered cheating? That's how Soren saw his friendship with Genevieve. In his eyes, she wasn't allowed to be friends with anyone else. He eventually became convinced that she didn't really like him at all, and that because she got along with other people, she must have been playing him for a joke. He believed this was akin to treason and decided to exact his revenge."

"Yes, because she was friends with other people, which was akin to treason!" Soren argues.

"Even after cheating happens in a relationship, most people simply break up and move on. They don't fanatically obsess over their exes or develop vendettas against them. But Soren is in a league of his own, and because he was clever with technology, that's the medium he chose to get back at her. He hacked into her account in the school messaging system and sent highly inappropriate content to the headmaster. It ranged from horrific, gory shows of violence to sexually explicit films to detailed death threats. Most of the material had been gathered online, but he wrote the threats himself. When it was discovered, Genevieve was taken into Peacekeeper custody."

"That's awful!" Zea looks disgusted.

"But then they discovered the breach in the security code that Soren had used to access her messages, and it was traced back to him. Genevieve was freed and compensated financially. Soren was taken into custody instead. The Peacekeepers wanted to send him to jail for his crimes, real jail, where he'd rub elbows with terrorists and murderers, but Genevieve bribed them into lightening his sentence. He was sent to the local reformatory instead, with common pickpockets and delinquents. Even after he deliberately tried to ruin her, she still stuck her neck out for him when she didn't have to. She tried to talk to him at the Goodbyes, in the Justice Building, and he had her thrown outside."

"Yes!" Soren exclaims. "It's all on her, why should I want to repair our friendship at the last minute? If she had just behaved normally and not conspired to be friends with other people, this never would have happened, so it's all her doing that got me sent to juvie, and it's her own fault that I had her kicked out!"

Zea's taken aback. "You're not denying that you did this?"

"Of course not! I'm proud of it!"

"That's an insulting thing to say. But really, is Pola's story all accurate?"

"Damn right it is!" Soren's wearing a wide grin, and it looks strange and unnatural on his usually scowling face.

"Then I say we revisit this tomorrow. But you know you just lost a lot of our trust, right?"

"Why?" Soren looks almost hurt by this. Zea leans in close to me and whispers,

"Does he really not know?"

"Unfortunately, no."

Livieoula "Livi" Carnelian, 18, D1F:

Rafe and Eliza are still hunting. They left early in the morning after we shared a soup cube dissolved in too much water. Oscar and I stayed at the Cornucopia camp all day. No other tributes passed by, but we did have an opportunity to witness the Gamemakers in action. In the middle of the morning, one chunk of the landscape seemed to shrivel down into the earth, like the ground supporting it had been deflated. Then the pond began to overflow, but only into that section. Water was being pumped up from below it, and as it swelled past the banks, it eventually grew to cover the whole chunk as far as I could see.

Common sense dictates that strange black lakes should be avoided, so I was careful refilling my water bottle. I don't know what the water contains, but I doubt it's anything good. Oscar wanted to accompany me, but I didn't let him. He's no use to anybody until his injuries heal. I didn't encounter anything dangerous this time, but it's always a good idea to be careful. I am not concerned about what the other tributes might do to me. What I am concerned about is what the Gamemakers might do to me. My challenges will come in the form of extreme weather or mutts or perhaps an erupting volcano or two.

The Capitolites can sponsor whatever silly little outliers they want, but we all know I'm the one who they'll love in the end. They adored me for my Twelve. They simpered over me when I gushed about them on the interview stage. When I grace that stage again in ten or so days, I'll be all anyone's talking about. The dead tributes will fade into obscurity, but I'll rise to star status. The truth is, there's no way I'm not making it out of this arena alive. Even though we have only one soup cube left. Even though I'll have to go without food. Even though I'll have to connive and manipulate and lie. Even though I'll have to kill the other Careers, who are all good people.

I'll do anything to get an edge. I'll do everything to come out on top. I look at Oscar, who's busy napping. He's kind of supposed to be helping me look out for trouble, but I don't want to disturb him for no reason. He could probably use the rest since he's on night watch duty today, but it's obvious he's not sleeping well. He's writhing around, drenched in sweat, deep in the throes of a nightmare. A nightmare about someone apparently called Alise. Is she a friend? A sweetheart? If so, their relationship seems pretty toxic. Oscar's mumbling has turned to loud begging, and I wonder if it would be kinder to wake him up. He's desperately pleading to the woman named Alise, asking her to stop hitting him, to put it down, put it down please, he doesn't really deserve such a harsh beating, please Alise, put that down, please, please don't hit, it hurts, it hurts so bad. It goes on and on, and it's terrible to hear.

I approach Oscar from the side, trying to figure out the best way to rouse him. I shake his shoulder genty, then a little harder. "Oscar, come on. Wake up." He does, untucking his face from his hands. I'm surprised to see that tears are streaming down his cheeks and his eyes are puffy and red. Whoever Alise might be, whatever she's doing to him is so awful it's making him cry in his sleep. I lighten my voice up into a gentler tone in an attempt to comfort him. "Hey, Oscar, it's alright. You're just dreaming. Alise isn't here, you're safe with me."

"Really?"

"I'm positive. Who is she anyway?"

"My mother." The words come out as a nervous croak.

"How are you feeling?"

"Cruddy."

"That's perfectly fine. We're going to wait until Rafe and Eliza get back, and then we'll have dinner, and then maybe you can talk about Alise if you want to. How does that sound?"

"Okay, I guess." He's understandably scared of me. We're more business partners than friends, and my occasional threats have destroyed any trust he might have had in me, but in this moment, I'm his only option, so he doesn't complain when I pull him into a hug. He slumps forward, burying his face in my neck, (I've gathered that he buries his face in things a lot when he's nervous) and stays there until Rafe and Eliza get back. We learn that neither of them caused the singular death that happened today, and our last portion of soup comes and goes.

No discussion about Alise ends up taking place, we're all busy talking about where to find food, but Oscar is barely paying attention. Before we all turn in for the night, I deliver my newest batch of orders. "Rafe, Eliza, I need you out there hunting tomorrow. Animals, not people. Be careful. Oscar and I will stay and guard the supplies again." Is the flicker of relief in his expression real or imagined?

I pull him to the side. "Oscar, tonight I need you to keep a sharp eye out for our thief. If they come back, you've got to be prepared to kill them. Keep your knives handy and wake me up if you have to."

"I will. Thank you." I pat him on the back.

"You're doing great. I know it's tough." It sounds like nothing important, but we both know the meaning runs much deeper than the words alone.


Kill Tracker:

Livi Carnelian: II

Oscar Poudret: I

Eliza Maddox: I

Rafe McClellan: I

Lyra-Rose Ripley (DECEASED): I

Soya Orlando: I


Alliance Tracker:

Career Pack: Oscar, Livi, Rafe, Eliza

Protective Older Brothers: Ardledge, Emily, Griffin, Chip

Manipulators and Their Meat Shield: Soren, Pola, Zea

Loners: Quinten, Damon, Elle, Radley, Soya


Supplies Tracker:

Career Pack: Blanket (x2), Climbing Gear (x2), First-Aid Kit (x2), Foam Roll (x3), Rope, Sleeping Bag (x3), Sunscreen, Tarp (x3), Poison, Warm Earmuffs, Warm Gloves (x2), Warm Hat, Warm Scarf, Water (x3)

Protective Older Brothers: Antiseptic Wipes, Climbing Gear, Crackers, Cured Meat, Field Guide, Firestarter, First Aid Kit, Fishing Supplies, Map of the Arena, Note of Advice, Nutrient Bars, Piece of Body Armor, Rope (x2), Severe Infection Medicine, Severe Injury Medicine, Shield, Sleeping Bag, Soap, Soup, Special Bonus 2, Utility Knife, Warm Gloves, Water Bottle (x2), Water Purification Capsules, Waterproof and Temperature Insulated Tent

Manipulators and Their Meat Shield: Apples, Binoculars, Blanket, Bread, Collapsible Lightweight Ladder, Compass, Dried Fruit, Field Guide, Firestarter (x3), Foam Roll, Map of the Arena, Medium Pack with Supplies (x3), Multitool, Net (x3), Night Vision Goggles (x3), Note of Advice, Powder and Puff, Rope, Safety Box (x3), Scuba Mask (x3), Severe Injury Medicine, Sleeping Bag (x2), Small Water (x3), Special Bonus 3, Special Bonus 4, Spool of Wire, Sunblock (x3), Tarp (x3), Trap Materials, Turbo Umbrella, Unknown Machine-Looking Thing, Utility Knife, Walkie-Talkies, Warm Gloves, Water

Quinten: Camouflage Set, Collapsible Shovel, First-Aid Kit, Insect Repellant, Map of the Arena, Medium Pack of Supplies, Night Vision Goggles, Special Bonus 1, Special Bonus 5, Sunblock, Warm Hat, Water Bottle, Water Purification Capsules

Damon: Antiseptic Wipes, Cheese, Compass, Grappling Hook, Multitool, Nutrient Bars, Scuba Mask, Sunblock, Turbo Umbrella, Warm Gloves, Water, Water Purification Capsules

Elle: Bread, Crackers, Mesh Sheet, Spool of Wire, Tarp, Trail Mix, Warm Scarf, Water

Radley: Blanket, Cured Meat, Beans, First Aid Kit, Multitool, Tarp, Trap Materials, Water

Soya: Apples, Bread (x2), Cheese, Crackers (x2), Cured Meat, Dried Fruit, Dry Wheat, Field Guide, Flashlight, Iodine, Jar of Lozenges, Resin, Soup, Warm Hat, Water (x3), Water Bottle, Water Bottle, Water Purification Capsules


Weapons Tracker:

Career Pack: Bandolier of Shurikens, Bandolier of Throwing Knives (x2), Bow and Quiver of Arrows (x2), Dagger (x3), Spear (x4), Switchblade, Unknown Bat-Looking Thing

Protective Older Brothers: Chainsaw, Dagger, Tanto, Warhammer

Manipulators and Their Meat Shield: Bandolier of Throwing Darts, Hidden Knife Gauntlet (x2)

Quinten: Spear

Damon: Axe

Elle: Shortsword, Unknown Scissors-looking Thing

Radley: Sickle

Soya: Axe, Bullwhip, Machete


Placement Tracker:

17th Place: Jenna Reyer, 18, D7F, trampled by bull mutt and throat slit by Soya Orlando


Eulogies:

Jenna: Jenna was a very physically strong tribute, and I really loved exploring her as a character! A combination of her assumptions about Soya and her lack of knowledge about the bull mutts resulted in a death that might have been avoided if she had the foresight to climb to safety in a tree.


Hey y'all!

I'm back after a few weeks of not updating, so you'll be getting updates every day for a while to make up for it. Do you think Ardledge will be okay? There's lots of drama with Soren and the girls. Livi's being the mom friend. I don't have a ton to say today, but tomorrow's chapter will feature Quinten and Radley. Any predictions?

– LC :)