Quinten Aramdale, 17, D6M:

The royal-blue dot on the map is slowly creeping in the direction of the bright red one that represents me. I crouch just a little lower in my trench, hoping that my camouflage is realistic enough to fool the other tribute. Next to the blue dot is a tiny black-lettered piece of text. D9M, it says. That's Radley, who's probably very upset at me for getting in his way at the Capitol. Even without the concern of someone who's both attractive and homicidal about to arrive at my hideout, it's been a tough few days.

My medical kit contained a sort of brace for my ankle, but it's only preventing it from getting worse. I didn't study very much first aid in the training center, but I watched Radley enough to know that he did, and that he's good at it. If I'm discovered, will he help me? Of course not, he'll kill me immediately, because what self-respecting boy wants to be the subject of a homosexual's attention? Even just looking at him too long could ruin his reputation. That's how it was back in District Six and there's no reason to assume it's any different here. Having too much time to myself just makes me think about home, and I find myself contemplating all the things I've done wrong, especially while working for the Wallstones. It makes me feel worse about myself, but the familiarity is comforting.

Darkness descends, and I put on my night vision goggles to see better. The anthem begins to play, interrupting the reel of my personal failures that's been playing in my head. One cannon sounded today, and it's the face of the Seven girl that appears. One-third of the tributes have died. I idly wonder what the storm will be tonight. The Gamemakers have already graced us with a thunderstorm and a blizzard. Black clouds begin to appear overhead. People shift on the map. Most notably Radley, who still seems to be coming towards me. The tree line masks my view of his part of the arena, but I can see his dot speed up on the map. Suddenly it's rushing towards mine, and when I train my eyes at the sky, I understand why. A conical mass of thunderclouds has formed and is twisting in circles as it races across the landscape. It's a tornado, and Radley seems to be right in its path. I hunker down in the trench. It's set in the snow at an angle, nothing but a gash against the pristine landscape, and I wedge myself in it as deeply as I can.

When I still went to school, we learned about all sorts of weather that can impede transport. Tornadoes were a big concern, especially in our district, but there's a secret to surviving them. It's easy enough to ride the storm out if you're underground, even if only by a few feet. My shelter should spare me from the worst of it if I built it right, but I'm not exactly known for being good at things. I look down again at the map. The two dots overlap. Over the ominous hum of the tornado, I swear I can hear heavy breathing, and all of a sudden, something big and fast dives through the narrow trench opening, sliding to a halt just inches in front of me.

Radley looks more scared than mad. He's sprawled against the wall of the trench, chest heaving, clearly a lot worse for wear. He's smeared with dirt and blood. His hair is disheveled. It takes him a moment to notice me, but then his shoulders sag as the corners of his mouth tip up in a tired smile. "Quinten, right?"

"Oh, um, this is him. Er, he's me. You see, I'm, well, I'm him, and–" I stop before I can further embarrass myself, but he's busy pawing through his backpack, first methodically, then with a franticness that indicates something isn't right. "What's wrong? I ask.

"My sickle is missing." I'm instantly relieved. If he doesn't have his sickle, he probably can't kill me, at least not easily. I'm not in the habit of trusting people in general, but he has a very fair reason to want me dead.

"Why are you so worried? If you want to kill me, you can just say so. I know I deserve it." That last bit was probably not the right thing to say, especially since he looks so taken aback.

"How come you think that?"

"I spoiled your whole reputation, didn't I?" I explain the blushing incident, that I swear, no really, I swear on my life that I don't like him, and that I understand that it suggested that I was interesting in having homosexual relations, but I promise it's not what it looks like, and I still understand if he's going to kill me, it's really my own fault, and I won't complain if he needs to kill me to restore his honor after my ununtentional implication of sexual deviance.

"I hate to say this, but please tell me you're joking."

"Why would I be joking? It's the same in DIstrict Six as it is everywhere else, right?"

"No, it's not. What's with the whole obsession with thinking being gay is devience? Why is orientation so tied to honor? How come being perceived as anything other than straight means you deserve to die?"

"Well, it's wrong!" I sputter. "Homosexuals are terrible, selfish people who deserve to die so that they can't pollute the rest of the population with their evil ways! Everyone says so!"

"Uh huh." I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not, but he gives me the strangest look. "Sorry to break it to you, but that thinking is royally screwed up, on like, ten different levels. Can I tell you something?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Alright." He reaches out and cups one my hand, sandwiching it between both of his. It's uncomfortably adjacent to hand-holding, actually. Mrs. Wallstone would definitely give me a beating for this. "Quinten, it sounds like you've been fed lies your entire life about what being gay is, and now you've got a bad case of internalized homophobia."

"What's that?"

"That's when you dislike gay people because of what the people around you said to try to justify treating them terribly, but really it's because you're scared that you're gay and they'll treat you terribly if they find out." It sounds plausible, but it's impossible. It's been drilled into my head my whole life that gay people who believe they are normal are the worst, most insidious of them all, and it takes me a moment to realize that what he's saying is true. Only five minutes after having him unexpectedly bursting into my trench, I feel like I'm being subjected to an interrogation that hits uncomfortably close to home.

"I'm going outside for a while. I think it's safe." Sure enough, the tornado has passed. A furrow has been dug in the snow, but nothing else of consequence has happened. I try to consider what Radley's saying. It seems an awful lot like he's expecting me to ally with him, but I don't know if it's a good idea. An attractive possibility, sure, but I'm still not convinced that he's trustworthy. I wish my mentor could communicate with me, and as if he's reading my mind, two silver parachutes miraculously appear. One contains some medicine to fix my ankle quicker. The other is a note, saying: You'd do well to trust Radley, he's honest and he'll protect you. I'd recommend sharing your blanket with him too. ;)

The semicolon and parentheses at the end have no significance to me. Did he type them by accident? Whatever the case, the first part makes sense. He wants me to team up with Radley, and for some reason, he also thinks I need to share my blanket with him. I don't see the issue until I realize that, in order for him to have half, I'd need to sleep directly next to him. Almost touching him, actually. Which would be terrible, because I still don't know if he meant what he said or if he was just trying to make me feel better. My decision is almost too easy. I suppose the Hunger Games call for desperate measures, and sleeping in inappropriately close proximity to someone of the same gender can probably be excused in favor of survival. I am acting under my mentor's orders, after all, so I suppose I'll just have to make do.

When I go back into the trench, Radley's still sitting against the wall. It takes every last bit of my courage (not a whole lot) to say it, but eventually I decide it must be done. "Will you be my ally?" I blurt out.

Radley Allaway, 17, D9M:

The first order of business is combining our supplies. The people of the Capitol apparently really like Quinten (I can't blame them, he's cute as hell) and have been showering him with sponsor gifts. However, my main priority centers around accumulating some more food and water. Quinten and I collectively have only half a bottle of water, and we're going to run out quickly, especially if we decide to leave the trench and explore the arena. We've also independently finished all of the food that we got at the Cornucopia. This means that our condition is going to rapidly deteriorate unless we get more, and quickly.

On the bright side, my chest wound is healing nicely. In the grapefruit orchard, I was able to locate a few medicinal herbs to speed my recovery. Plus, my first aid kit came with all the trappings, and I didn't skimp on making use of them. I almost fell into the trap of thinking, this should be used in an emergency only. I'm in an emergency right now, but what if there's a bigger emergency later? Fortunately, my brain decided to overcome its doubts. In addition to the gauze, medical tape, and other bandages, there were a few medications in the kit too. I've made modest use of the pain pills included. My injury is still far from gone, but it's scabbed up with no signs of irritation, like pus, swelling, or redness. I've been checking it regularly, and so far it's not infected.

Quinten's first aid kit contains the exact same things as mine. He hasn't used anything except for the compression brace, which he placed on his upper calf, mistakenly believing that it would be too tight on the wound itself. He explains that he hasn't known what to do with his ankle and that it's feeling more painful than it did when it had just been injured. The reason is obvious: he's spent three days walking around as though there's nothing wrong with it. That's sure to make things worse. The first step is un-twisting it, setting the bone properly so that it can start to get better. Quinten produces a package of medicine, apparently he just received it from a sponsor. It's presumably for his ankle, so I'll have to figure out what to do with it. Then I'll make a splint and wrap it so it doesn't get jostled when he moves. He seems relieved to learn that I know what I'm doing. Am I a doctor? No. Am I the closest thing here to a doctor? Yes. By far. Once he agrees to let me help, I begin by laying out my supplies.

When I'm done, I have him roll up his pant leg, cuffing it above the knee, and remove his heavy boot and the thick sock underneath it. The boot has almost formed a suction-like attachment to his foot, and it's gripping it way too tightly. I unlace it, but it's still tough to yank past his ankle, which is nearly double the size of the other one. "How long has it been since you've taken your boot off?"

"I haven't."

"Whyever not?"

"I thought I'd be less likely to fall if I kept it the way it was. Did I make it worse?"

"Yeah, you made it worse. It's still perfectly manageable, though, so please don't fret." He looks like the only reason he's not crying and apologizing is that I asked him not to. Even when I was just casually passing Quinten in the Training Center when he was talking to Harry, it's easy to tell that whoever's running the show in District Six is doing him wrong. He's been made to feel that even the most mild slipups are serious misdeeds, and that his wrongdoings merit severe punishment. Back in District Nine, most people had good families, but there were always a few kids who acted like that. They'd fall over themselves begging for forgiveness if they accidentally brushed against someone or interrupted in a conversation, and not in the sarcastic, snotty way some folks did. They were genuinely scared because they'd been told that they were terrible, undeserving people, and that everyone around them would do the same thing if they knew the 'real them.' And even outside that, they always had a certain look to them, like they were living in a state of constant fear

I suspect that Quinten is in the same boat, so I'll have to be extra careful about the way I say things. I don't want to frighten him or make him panic because of an avoidable misunderstanding, but that's not the only thing I'll have to be careful of. Some of his bones are in the wrong places, and I'll have to be very careful setting them back into place so that I don't accidentally cause more damage. I practiced quite a lot in the Capitol, but I haven't had a test with real-life stakes. I cannot afford to mess this up.

I begin by feeling around the part where the swelling is worst, and I easily locate the protruding bone. It must have been pushed out of place. I gently apply pressure to the top of it, guiding it back into its natural cavity. I wish I could just pop it back into place, but I need to take this slowly so that I don't make a mistake. Quinten whines softly, so I pat his thigh. "You're doing a great job staying still for me. Give me just another moment or two and I'll be all done with the bad part." I stay true to my promise. Once the bone is back where it should be, I pick up the medicine. I've watched the Hunger Games enough to know that most of the medicines are creams or ointments. This one comes in the form of a hypodermic needle.

The Capitolites tend to infantilize those of us who are district-born. They assume we're too stupid to understand their more complicated processes. However, in the Hunger Games, most tributes don't have a strong understanding of the Capitol's medical care, so they simplify it for us. It works no matter where you initially put it so that even the stupidest tributes can figure it out. It's for this reason alone that I don't hesitate in jabbing the syringe into the most inflamed area. Almost immediately, the redness begins to die down. I finish my task by wrapping the ankle in a snug layer of gauze, then securing the compression bandage on top of it. Quinten decides that he wants to go to bed, which is perfectly understandable. We've been up for most of the night.

He offers to share his blanket with me, and I happily accept. It might be safer than being up on the surface, but huddling in a snow trench means that I'm freezing. We have to get pretty close together to make it work, but that'll also help dispel the cold. Quinten crashes almost immediately. Despite his earlier reservations about physical contact, he's perfectly happy to use my arm as a pillow. I, however, am having trouble sleeping, and I consider why I'd even be willing to throw my life away for someone I've known for less than a week. The answer is there, I just don't want to admit it.

The truth is that I'm codependent to an unhealthy degree. I go around attaching myself to people not because I want them to give me attention but because I want to give it to them. At first glance it sounds sweet, but the problem is that I don't know how to take care of myself. I haven't taken up any hobbies, haven't made any close friends. I have no real identity outside of my family. Loving other people is the only thing I know how to do, and if I can't do it, I have a habit of falling into a pit of self-loathing. I live on a moral high horse. I like to think I'm a good person, and that I do my best, and that I put others before myself. Auntie Tamsin always said that I was selling myself short by squandering my time and energy, but I do have a selfish side. I just try to keep it at bay.

Unfortunately, I'm in the Hunger Games, so I might not have that option.


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

Queer and (Maybe) Romantic: Quinten, Radley

Loners: Damon, Elle, 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), 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

Queer and (Maybe) Romantic: Basic Injury Medicine, Blanket, Camouflage Set, Collapsible Shovel, First Aid Kit (x2), Insect Repellant, Map of the Arena, Medium Pack of Supplies, Multitool, Night Vision Goggles, Note of Advice, Special Bonus 1, Special Bonus 5, Sunblock, Tarp, Trap Materials, Warm Hat, Water, 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

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)

Queer and (Maybe) Romantic: Spear

Damon: Axe

Elle: Shortsword, Unknown Scissors-looking Thing

Soya: Axe, Bullwhip, Machete


Hey y'all!

Do you ship it? Why or why not? Quinten's feelings are so all over the place but he didn't catch his mentor's little hint, did he? Radley, on the other hand, is feeling like his situation has improved, is making good use of his healing skills, and is experiencing a rare moment of self-reflection. (I have to warn you that if they hypothetically became a couple and hypothetically ended up as the final two tributes, no Everlark-style double suicide attempt will take place.) I don't have a ton to tell you at the moment, but I'll have the next chapter up tomorrow morning!

– LC :)