Oscar Poudret, 17, D1M:

It's a wonderful feeling to wake up and have food to eat. Livi's decided that I've had ample time to heal from my injuries, so even if I'm not exactly in tip-top condition, she and I are responsible for the hunting today while Rafe and Eliza stay behind to guard the camp. Before we officially head out, I go a short ways off to pee, and Fulton, in his neverending intelligence, decides to use the moment to send me a sponsor gift. Because it worked so well last time. But he decided to not label it at all, which is just as unhelpful.

I put it in my backpack for safekeeping, but as soon as we set out on our own, Livi immediately demands to know what sponsor gift I received. I consider trying to lie, but since that hasn't worked once, I pull out the parachute and invite her to take a look. She quickly determines that I've gotten night vision goggles, which she claims is a great thing. "Now we can give them to the person on night watch," she explains. "They'll have an easier time identifying whoever the thief is when they return."

"What makes you think the thief will return? They haven't been anywhere near us ever since the first night. Why would they come back?"

"Well," Livi says rather contemptuously, "They were successful. And everybody wants to experience success over and over. When the thief's supplies dwindle, they'll want more. They'll assume we've let down our guard. They'll steal again, but we'll be ready to kill them when they do."

"So we're sharing the goggles with Rafe and Eliza?"

"Of course we are. I'm sure they saw the parachute come down. We can inject a little more trust into them if we're loyal–for the time being, that is."

Livi has the oddest way of saying cruel and alarming things so casually and making it sound comforting. The subtext of her statement is that we'll eventually betray the Twos, betray meaning murder. I tell her this. "So we'll betray and murder them at some point? But that's so...dishonest. We're really going to deceive them into thinking we're being truthful and then taking advantage of that and stabbing them in the back?"

Livi gives me a patronizing pat on the head. "Oh Oscar, you make it sound so scandalous. All we're doing is setting up a backup plan. This maneuver isn't nearly as crooked as you're making it out to be. We're simply arranging things so that they won't call our bluff in the future. Some harmless subterfuge never hurt anyone, and you'd do well to remember it." I open my mouth to argue that it's not harmless if it results in two deaths, but Livi claps a hand over it. "Shush. I think I heard something." After a few seconds of careful listening, she shoves the both of us into some thick shrubbery and loads her bow.

It's only her secondary weapon, but she scored a Twelve, so I'd hazard a guess that she's more than good with it. I choose two knives from my bandolier. Livi leans close to me and whispers directly into my ear. "Oscar, you can't talk like that and call the Hunger Games murder. People are going to think you're a rebel, and if they do, the Gamemakers won't let you leave the arena alive. Just act like a normal Career, alright?"

"Did you drag me into a bush just to tell me that? I mean, you have a good point, but–"

"No. I said I heard something, didn't I? Keep up, please. And be quiet." After perhaps a minute, a large, lean deer ambles past us. The arrow flies through its throat and it drops dead almost immediately. Returning to her normal volume, Livi celebrates with a smile. "This is going to feed all four of us for a long time. Come on, we have to take it back to camp!" She picks it up and slings it over her back, shouldering the full weight, and hands me her pack, leading the way to the Cornucopia as if having no recollection at all of our conversation.

Zea Poales, 18, D9F:

Only two more days after this one, and then I'll rid myself of these fools for good.

Soya Orlando, 14, D11F:

My plan to weaponize the bull mutts worked flawlessly. A strong competitor is dead, her ally now gone too, at the hands of an unknown killer. I have no idea who it is, but the important thing is that there's no living tribute who would seek revenge against me for her death. That frees me up to focus on other things. For instance, that part of the bulls' territory in the lowlands went underwater, drowning many of the animals that were sleeping. Half of the herd, gone in one night.

The other half could go just as easily. Right now, I'm sitting pretty, protected by the leftover bulls, with plenty of food and water. In these past days, I've been an active force in the arena. I stole from the Careers and bent mutts to my will, whereas some of the other tributes invariably had a less exciting start. The Gamemakers are probably trying to liven them up by throwing different situations at them so they don't get too boring. I, on the other hand, have established myself as a threat to the viewers, so I can afford to settle down for a while.

I've decided to lay low these next few days, trying to avoid expending much energy so my supplies can stretch farther, and waiting for the herd to recover a bit. By the time this routine starts to get dull in the eyes of the Capitolites, I'll be out of food and on the move to get more, which will raise the stakes of my quest for it and capture the audience's attention as I once again make off with a haul from the Careers' camp as I steal their resources right from under their noses.

I have my whole strategy planned out. I'm basing my actions off of one thing only–what the people watching will want. I'm not stupid, I know that the Hunger Games are more about entertainment than punishment. The whims of outsiders will not directly decide my fate, but they will guide the Gamemakers' decisions, and those are the choices that really matter. I've seen tributes on television get shredded to bloody ribbons by mutts since they chose to hide and avoid the action for too long.

I of course want to avoid that sort of ghastly end, and I'll do anything to avoid my end in these Games, ghastly or not. The secret is figuring out what I need to do to escape the Gamemakers' focus. And since I don't have any qualms about trampling a girl to death with my pet bull, I also don't have any qualms about sucking up to the Capitol and playing the Games their way. Is the Capitol brutal and are their Games even worse? Of course. But if I want to live to one day see their downfall, I need to beat out the other fourteen remaining tributes first.

Suppose every tribute was given a single descriptor to summarize why their Capitol fans like them, what the appeal of supporting them was. Livi's might be "formidable", Jenna's might have been "proletarian". Mine would be "dramatic." People care about me because I don't do things in half measures and I deliver in spectacular fashion. The secret to winning the game that is the Games is taking time to formulate a strategy and playing with care. Livi's heralded by the traditionalists who like to see the Careers, their lapdogs, triumph over the runty outliers. Jenna was popular with those who liked to see a working-class underdog give the districts renewed hope.

Me? No Hunger Games fan can say they dislike me, because I've cracked the code. I can reel them in every single time because I consistently do what no other tribute consistently does: I give them a good show.

Radley Allaway, 17, D9M:

Quinten's very torn up about Elle's death. Unsurprisingly, his first instinct was to blame himself and forget that she was literally trying to kill us. Am I sad that Elle's dead? Yeah, but not all that much. She deliberately decided to attack me, and it's the Hunger Games. What did Quinten think was going to happen? Either both of us died or she died, and he made the best possible choice under the circumstances. The problem is that he hasn't realized that and seems hellbent on talking down to himself as much as possible.

He's refused to eat or drink anything, and as far as I can tell, he didn't sleep at all last night. He hasn't left the trench, not even to go to the bathroom, and he's spent his time curled up in a ball, crying. I busied myself by messing with the supplies and discovered a whole mess of trap-making materials, which I used to construct a few simple animal traps to replenish our food stores. I scatter them in the surrounding woods, which only takes a few minutes, and return. Quinten's state hasn't changed.

I've already tried to talk to him, but he's ignored me, so I decide to jump right to the last resort: picking him up and carrying him out of the trench. Some part of me hoped that the sunlight would instantly cure him and he'd snap out of it right away, but no, he's still sobbing into his sleeve and acting like I don't exist. I smooth his shirt, trying to get his attention. "Quinten? Quinten, you have to talk to me. Why are you so broken up about Elle?"

"Go away."

"I'm not going away. You can't just waste away underground because you killed somebody. Do you honestly think that dying will make up for someone else's death?"

"You know what? Yes, I do think that. Will you leave me alone now?"

"You're wrong, Quin. Stop punishing yourself for doing your best. We're under a lot of pressure and it's perfectly understandable to second-guess yourself, but you didn't do anything bad. You saved us, actually. You're a hero."

"Ha ha. Yes, the deviant murderer is secretly a hero. So plausible. And don't call me Quin."

"Sorry, Quinten. Can I do anything to make it up to you?"

"Put me back where I was and stop talking to me."

"I'm afraid that's not an option. You're staying alive and healthy whether you like it or not. And you're also going to start contributing to this alliance, because being a sad sack with no sense of pride in his work isn't doing you any good. So I think we'll start off by examining your ankle to make sure it's healing properly, and then we'll collect some melted snow to boil for water and check the trap line. Does that sound good to you?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Well too bad, because it's happening anyway, and you're going to participate."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Make me."

Ardledge Merton, 18, D4M:

Today's first order of business was eating the meal that we were given last night. The second is following Griffin-the-mentor's instructions from the note. Head further inland until the trees thin. Take a right until you hit the quicksand and dive in. You'll know it when you see it. After our shared breakfast of chicken and bread, we all started to walk away from the peninsula and into the orchards.

It goes quickly. Unlike in the snowy forest where we always had to watch our step, the soft, moist, black soil is easy to walk in and doesn't conceal anything that might be a tripping hazard. It's interspersed by patches of verdant grass, and the patches seem to overtake more and more of the ground until I realize we're all crossing a meadow. Somewhere along the way the fruit trees begin to decrease in number until barely any remain. "This is probably it," I decide. "Griffin said that–"

"Griffin-the-mentor or our Griffin?"

"Griffin-the-mentor. His note said that we need to turn right where the trees thin. They're very sparse here, so we should be in the right place."

"Are you sure?" He might have meant the spot where the trees begin to thin, in which case we've already passed it." Chip disagrees, as does Griffin.

"What if the trees haven't thinned enough? What if instead he means for us to go on ahead a little more?"

"Well," Emily says sensibly, "We're between those two points right now, so we'll have the least amount of land to cover if we do turn out to be wrong. I say we should turn here." After a brief agreement, we all decide to take the chance. Reeds begin to poke up as the ground gets squishier and new trees come into sight. Traces of melting snow are all around. This place looks closer to the area near the Cornucopia where we first met up than it does anywhere we've been since, which seems to be a good sign. However, the terrain isn't as firm and there's not as much shrubbery.

We're supposed to be looking for quicksand, so we all spread out and try to test where the earth is softest. Water slowly seeps up around our boots. Eventually, Chip gives a shout. "Help! I'm stuck!"

"Don't worry. You've found our quicksand!"

"Yes, but I can't get out! Are you certain Griffin-the-mentor meant his note literally?"

"Only one way to find out. He told us to dive in. We won't know unless we actually do it. The only question is who's actually going."

"Chip should go in. He's already sunk waist-deep. Here, we'll give him the rope so we can pull him out if we have to." Emily ties a sort of makeshift noose at the end of the rope and throws it to Chip, who loops it around his torso and under his arms. "Tug once to say you're okay, twice together if you want us to get you out."

"Alright." Chip obediently gulps in a breath of air before anyone can intervene and goes under the silty surface. I never approved this plan, but what am I supposed to do, pull Chip up so I can go in instead? That's not exactly helpful. Either way, I take the rope from Emily, preparing to hoist if something goes wrong. Griffin ad Emily both keep a hand on the rope too, watching as I spool more of the slack out to give Chip a longer range. We wait in anxious silence, watching and listening for any signs of distress. Then the rope ripples with a sharp tug. We feel for a second. None comes.

"He's fine." There's a collective sigh of relief. Then Emily suddenly extends her arms in poor imitation of a diving position and hurtles into the murky depths.

"No! Come back! What if you get hurt?" Griffin yells. No answer comes. More nervous waiting, and then another tug. "See! Chip wants us to pull him up! What about Emily?"

"No, hold on. Emily said two tugs together, one after the other. Those were very spaced apart. I think she's okay and has found him."

"What if they're in danger?"

"Then they'd probably have tugged again to make sure we understand. Come on, there's no way to know but go too."

"You want to go together?"

"Sure." With backpack and rope in hand, I dive alongside Griffin, praying that things will turn out fine. This muddy quicksand doesn't offer the visibility of normal water. I have no clue what's down here, but after what feels like forever, the suction pulls me not down, but through. I'm falling, and then my boots hit packed dirt with a rough thud. "What is this place?"

"A cave network," says Chip, appearing behind me. "And Griffin-the-mentor was right. We knew it when we saw it."

"Knew what?"

"Knew where to go." He leads us through the damp tunnel for a minute or two, passing offshoots and chambers without comment before pausing in front of an enormous vestibule. Light glitters from the strange icicle-shaped formations on the ceiling, but it's not them, nor the grand opening that makes it clear this is the right destination.

It's the silver-tinted spring welling up in the center that's jetting steam and refracting moonlight around the walls in what appears to be the image of the Capitol Seal.

Pola Velek, 15, D3F:

The tension in the air is palpable. Soren's withdrawn from his usual complaints and is instead unnervingly placid, even crossing into the territory of agreeability once or twice. He does what I say, and he does it immediately, with a smile on his face. It's the calm before the storm, and it's easy to tell that he's plotting something. No way has he magically become a respectful and cooperative person overnight. I'd guess that his plan is to butter me up with good behavior so I stop keeping such a close eye on him, at which point he'll strike.

It's the only logical solution. Soren has obviously noticed that the more he tries to wind me up, the more I'll micromanage him and check to make sure he's doing what he's supposed to. If he wants to steal supplies or kill me, he needs to create some space and distance himself from me so he'll be unsupervised long enough to pull it off. He can't risk me walking in and interrupting him, so he's trying to build up my trust in him enough to leave him alone for more than a few minutes.

It's not going to work. If I didn't know what he'd done in the past, it might have. I might have truly believed he experienced a change of heart and discovered the value of friendship after all. But he's already laid his cards on the table, and there's no ace up his sleeve. He can't deceive me because he's already proven himself to be selfish and devoid of morals. He's already openly admitted to deception in the past. He no longer has the element of surprise.

And he's not the only one acting strange. Zea has been withdrawing in her own way, alternating between Soren-like grumblings and a bubbly, chipper personality that just materialized this morning. I remember this persona from the interviews in the Capitol. She played up a very nice-nice attitude that bordered on ditzy, and it worked like a charm, enrapturing the equally ditzy Capitolites into rallying around her.

Yet another trick that won't fool me. She was putting on a show for them, but I've never been interested in theatre. Her little charade won't reap any benefits. She and Soren might be managing up on me, or they might just be simultaneously scheming, but whatever the case is, it won't be safe for much longer. Still, my arm is healing remarkably quickly. It's almost as good as new, and when it is and I can serve them on last time, they'll have no use for me anymore.

But I bet they're banking on me falling for their respective farces. I'm too sharp for that, though. While they concentrate on setting up their ruses and laying their smokescreens, I'll be reorganizing the supplies, since they don't pay much attention to what ends up in what pack, and I want it to be set up properly. I have a habit of going through the supplies a few times a day to re-ration and re-pack as necessary so we can make them as aerodynamic as possible, and if I do it a little more intentionally this time around, they'll never notice.

As the old saying goes, there's no outfoxing the fox.

Kill Tracker:

Livi Carnelian: II

Oscar Poudret: I

Eliza Maddox: I

Rafe McClellan: I

Lyra-Rose Ripley (DECEASED): I

Quinten Aramdale: 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, Soya

Supplies Tracker:

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

Protective Older Brothers: Antiseptic Wipes, First Aid Kit, Note of Advice, Rope, Severe Infection Medicine, Severe Injury Medicine, Small Meal, Water Bottle, Water Purification Capsules, Waterproof and Temperature Insulated Tent

Manipulators and Their Meat Shield: Binoculars, Blanket, Collapsible Lightweight Ladder, Compass, Field Guide, Firestarter (x3), Foam Roll, Map of the Arena, 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

Queer and (Maybe) Romantic: Basic Injury Medicine, Blanket, Bread, Camouflage Set, Collapsible Shovel, First Aid Kit (x2), Insect Repellant, Map of the Arena, Mesh Sheet, Multitool, Night Vision Goggles, Note of Advice, Special Bonus 1, Special Bonus 5, Spool of Wire, Sunblock, Tarp, Trap Materials, Warm Hat, Warm Scarf, Water Bottle, Water Purification Capsules

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

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

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

Queer and (Maybe) Romantic: Shortsword, Spear, Unknown Scissors-Looking Thing

Damon: Axe

Soya: Axe, Bullwhip, Machete

Hey y'all! I'm working off of Pages instead of Google Drive for a while, so I can't add any line breaks. Sorry. I know it's been a while since I've updated. Life has been very busy for me, but don't worry, I'm back on track and I have the rest of this story totally planned out. In addition, I just released the third prologue for Reprisal, which is another SYOT, so please consider checking that out! Updates are going to be coming out rapidly in the coming weeks, and I've finalized the rest of the death order and chosen my Victor, so have fun guessing who it'll be! –LC :)