Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: Yep, quick chapter this time. This is the sort of chapter that comes easily to me. And it's about half as long as those interview chapters, so there's that, too.

Also, the results of the sponsor poll are up on the blog. Congrats to Evander, Shale, and Septimus, who were your top three choices, and will be receiving a sponsor gift at some point during the Games (provided they survive the bloodbath).

New poll is up on my profile, this time asking who you think will make the final eight. Please note that this is not necessarily the same as who you want to see in the final eight. I know it's a bit early for this sort of poll, but I wanted to get some idea of where you think the tributes will place before they start dying off.

Lastly, thank you for your patience. I know I've been a bit slow with the interview chapters, but, now that the Games are about to begin, I should be able to pick up the pace. But, first, one last pre-Games chapter...

Night Before the Games
Waiting

Inviticus Cassiano, 18
District One

He had told them.

Inviticus leaned back in his chair, content. Jaime and Jade were in the other room, having a conversation of their own. Neither of them wanted to admit what they all knew: he had been right about District Four from the start. He had predicted their betrayal. The others had simply been too blind to see it. And now they were too proud to admit they had been wrong.

Except for Jasper, who had nothing to lose by conceding the argument. "Looks like you were right," he agreed at last. "District Four is going to be trouble. Now they'll be looking for any way to make up for what Misha did. Any way to prove their loyalty. You can use that, but be careful. If they know you don't trust them…"

"I haven't exactly kept it a secret," Inviticus pointed out.

"Then you need to be careful."

Inviticus shrugged. Of course. It was the Hunger Games. Everyone needed to be careful. Eventually, everyone was a target. Even the Careers.

Even him.

He was ready, of course. He had prepared his whole life for this. But still…

"Any last-minute advice?" he asked, earning a shocked expression from Jasper. It was the first time he'd actually asked for his mentor's advice. Jasper had offered plenty of it, of course, but always unasked-for. And chances were he already knew everything Jasper could tell him, but, still, a little extra encouragement couldn't hurt.

"Just remember your allies are necessary at first," Jasper offered. "Especially with this many tributes, you can't afford to go it alone at the start. I know you don't like some of them. But you can work with them. You can use them. For a while, at least."

Inviticus nodded. It was nothing Jasper hadn't said a dozen times before. But somehow it seemed a bit more real now. A bit more relevant, more immediate. There was no more training. No more practicing. Tomorrow it was real.

And he would be ready.

Naella Sareen, 18
District Two

She was ready.

Naella nodded politely towards Harriet as she headed for her room. Harriet nodded back, their shared message clear. Naella didn't need any last-minute advice. If there was something she didn't know by now, it was already too late. The best thing she could do now was get some rest, because there was no telling how long it might be before she would truly be able to sleep again.

Naella changed her clothes quickly and slipped between the covers of the last bed she would sleep in for days. Weeks. However long the Games lasted. With forty-six tributes, perhaps that would be longer than normal. But maybe not. The Twenty-Fifth Games, after all, had barely lasted a week, despite the twelve extra tributes.

A week. A week or two, and she could be back here. In a bed. Sleeping soundly. Safe and victorious. Or she could be dead. It was a possibility, of course. But not one she was going to lose any sleep over – certainly not now, when sleep was so important. If she was going to die, no amount of worrying now would change that. And if she wanted to live, the best thing she could do now was make sure she was well-rested, to give herself her best chance.

Her allies were probably still awake. Thinking. Deciding. Pondering the situation in Four and how it would affect the Games. But there was no point worrying about that now. Tomorrow, everything would change, anyway. Tomorrow, she would see what her allies had decided, and she would act accordingly. There was no point in worrying about something she couldn't change. She closed her eyes.

Sleep came easily.

Horatio Connors, 15
District Three

He couldn't sleep.

Horatio turned over again in his bed, trying not to think. Trying not to dwell on what was coming. Trying not to question the choices he had made, the path he had decided to take. It was just another game, after all. Just another series of moves and gambits. Just another match.

But this was his life.

Finally, Horatio climbed out of bed and headed out to the main room, where Percival still sat on one of the couches, as if waiting for him. Horatio cocked an eyebrow. "Where are the others?"

"India and Aleron went to bed a little after you did," Percival shrugged. "Evander and Avery have been talking for at least an hour; Miriam went to check on them a little while ago." He smiled a little. "Can't sleep?"

"No," Horatio admitted.

"Neither could I, before my Games," Percival admitted. "Kept asking myself if I'd made the right choices. My allies, our strategy – I questioned everything."

"And what did you decide?"

"Nothing. The Games decided for me. I lost track of my allies in the bloodbath, and that was that. Point is, everything's going to change tomorrow, anyway. Whatever decisions you've already made … once you're in the Games, they're not that important. All that matters is staying alive – whether that means following your original plan or not."

Horatio nodded. "So all the planning, the preparation, the alliances … You're saying it's all pointless?"

"Not pointless, no. But you don't want to fall into the trap of thinking that what you've planned in advance is set in stone. That it's the only way to win. You have to be ready to adapt, to change your plans on a moment's notice based on the arena, based on what the other tributes do. Plans are important, but you can't let them control you."

Horatio nodded. "I think I understand."

Kendall Rios, 18
District Four

She didn't understand.

"Why would he do that?" Kendall fumed. "Why would he want to burn down the training center? Why would he do that to us? To the district?"

Auster and Naomi simply sat, listening to her tirade. On the other side of the room, Bierce and Kalypso chatted quietly with Jarlan, Imalia, and Mavina. Mags was in a corner with Brevin, who was doing his best to comfort her. Maybe Kendall should have been doing the same thing – trying to offer some comfort to Naomi. She had been Misha's mentor, after all. But right now, Kendall was too angry to even think about offering her comfort or help.

"We shouldn't have left him alone," Naomi admitted. "None of us wanted to; we should have listened to our instincts." She shook her head. "This one's on us – the four of us Victors. We failed him, and we failed the district. I'm just sorry the two of you are caught up in it now."

"You won't really close the training center, will you?" Auster asked, still in disbelief. "Not permanently, I mean. You'll rebuild it and reopen, won't you?"

Naomi shook her head. "Without any weapons? Without the Capitol's support? I don't see how we can. Unless…"

Kendall perked up. "Unless what?"

"If one of you wins – if someone from District Four is the next Victor – maybe that would be enough. Enough to raise support in the Capitol, to convince the president to change his mind. Silas knows he has to appear firm, but he's not unreasonable. We just need to give him a reason…" She trailed off. "I know it's a lot of responsibility for you, but—"

"—but it's what we were planning to do, anyway," Kendall finished. She was already planning to win. To be the next Victor. If that meant that District Four could remain a Career district, well, that was just the icing on the cake.

Maybe everything could still work out.

Liana Kinney, 18
District Five

Everything was working out perfectly.

Liana glanced up at Harakuise. "Did you plan this?"

Harakuise cocked an eyebrow. "Plan what?"

"What happened in District Four. The president revoking their status as a Career district. You expect us to believe it's just coincidence that District Four is losing favor just as District Five is starting to become a Career district ourselves?"

Harakuise chuckled a little. "While I'm flattered you think I'm capable of such a scheme … no. This isn't my doing. I'm clever, not omniscient. No one could have predicted what Misha would do. He was a loose cannon. The fact that his shot ended up crippling District Four rather than another target – that was simply good luck."

"Luck," Liana repeated, a little disappointed. She'd been hoping for some sort of complex explanation of how Harakuise had manipulated the Victors, the Peacekeepers, maybe even the president himself, to make way for District Five's rise as a Career district. The idea that it was just chance was a bit anticlimactic.

"Luck," Harakuise confirmed. "Sometimes things just work out, Liana. No plans. No schemes. Sometimes things just happen without our interference or consent. But," he added with a smile, "it's up to us to take advantage of them."

"The other Careers," Liana realized. "They'll be distracted. Divided. We can use that."

Harakuise nodded. "Septimus is clever enough to realize the same thing. During the bloodbath, find him. Help him. Follow his lead, and the rest of the alliance will do the same." Harakuise placed a hand on her shoulder. "You can do this, Liana."

Liana looked up, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. She had always believed she could do this, of course, but to hear it from someone else was … unexpected. Liana smiled a little, then squeezed Harakuise's hand tightly.

"Thank you."

Delvin Flynn, 18
District Six

"I just wanted to say thank you."

Delvin smiled a little as Nicodemus looked up, surprised. Delvin was almost surprised himself – surprised at the words coming out of his mouth. He couldn't remember the last time he had truly thanked anyone – or had a good reason to. Nor had he expected to be grateful for anything just before the Games. But, still, he felt like he should say something, and, for whatever reason, thank you seemed right.

The other tributes had already gone to bed. Nicodemus had probably tucked them in himself, Delvin thought with a smile. There was no one to hear them. No one who would know that he had let his guard down for a moment. No one but his mentor.

"For what?" Nicodemus asked, genuinely confused.

Delvin took a seat next to his mentor. "For not pushing. When Paget suggested forming an alliance on the train, you could have pushed for it to be all of us. But you let us decide for ourselves, and you didn't stop giving me advice when I decided not to go along with the rest of the district's plan." He shook his head. "Thank you for doing your job, I guess."

Nicodemus smiled a little. "That's why I'm here."

Delvin nodded. "I guess that's what I meant. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad someone's here. I'm glad they didn't…" He trailed off, unsure.

"Glad they didn't kill me?" Nicodemus finished.

"Well … yeah. That, I guess," Delvin agreed awkwardly.

Nicodemus nodded. "I spent a lot of time this past year wishing they had. Wishing they'd finished the job when they had the chance. But now … I guess there's a reason they didn't. I'm still needed here. And that's enough."

Delvin nodded. That much, he could understand. He was needed, too. His sister, his mother – they were waiting for him. They needed him, the way the tributes needed Nicodemus. He had to make it back for them.

He was glad someone understood.

Ciere Renole, 17
District Seven

She was glad no one understood.

Ciere watched quietly as the other tributes slowly detached from the group and made their way to their own rooms. Audra was the first to decide rest would be more productive than sitting up and worrying. Then Domingo. Last of all, Fallon headed for her room, as well. Still, Ciere sat, watching. Waiting.

For what, she wasn't sure. There was nothing left to say. Nothing to do. Nothing that would change what was about to happen. What she was going to do. What she had wanted to do for years.

For the first time in her life, she had no doubts. No worries. No questions about what she had to do. What she was supposed to do. What she wanted to do.

For the first time in her life, the three were all the same thing.

"Are you all right?"

Ciere glanced up, surprised, as Hazel took a seat next to her. "Yeah, I'm all right. Why?"

Hazel shook her head, puzzled. "Well, most people aren't, the night right before the Games. I know I wasn't. Casper certainly wasn't. Are you sure you're—"

"I'm fine," Ciere insisted, standing up and turning to go. "Worry about the others."

"The others already went to bed," Hazel pointed out.

Ciere shrugged. "Well, then worry about yourself. I'm sure you've got plenty of … mentoring things to do."

"Well, I suppose so, but—"

"Then you'd better get to it." She headed for her room. Hazel followed, ready to object. To try to help. To comfort her. But Ciere shook her head.

"Don't worry about me."

Baylor Alanis, 14
District Eight

"Don't worry about me."

Baylor wrapped his arms around Kit as the two sat together on the couch. Kit shook his head, tears in his eyes. Silently pleading, begging for Baylor not to go. Not to die.

But neither of them could do anything to stop what was coming. Once the Games began, they would each do their part. But, for the next few hours, they were powerless. There was nothing they could do but wait.

"You should get some rest," Carolina suggested at last. "Both of you. Baylor, you're going to need all your strength tomorrow. And Kit, you won't be able to help him if you're too tired to think straight."

Baylor nodded, taking his cue. He hugged Kit, then Carolina, then Lander, who ruffled his hair a little before shooing him off to his room. Carolina followed, then quietly closed the door behind them. "Thank you … for everything you've done for Kit."

Baylor smiled a little. "You're welcome. I just wish there was something more I could do."

"There is," Carolina admitted.

Baylor cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

Carolina shrugged. "What you're trying to do, anyway: win. I don't want to think about what it'll do to him if…"

"—if I die," Baylor finished, and Carolina nodded. Baylor forced a smile. "I'll certainly do my best."

Carolina turned to go, but then hesitated. "Baylor, there's something you should know. I promised Adelia I wouldn't tell anyone what she'd figured out, but … well, after what you've done for Kit, you deserve to know. And if she's right, it's not something you'd have an opportunity to use against her … not so soon before the Games. But maybe it'll help you."

Baylor smiled a little. He hadn't expected any reward for helping Kit – not really. But he certainly wasn't going to refuse information that could help him. "What is it?"

"It's about the extra tributes."

Melody Anson, 15
District Nine

"It's about the extra tributes."

Melody nodded a little as Baylor explained. According to the mentors, tributes from separate districts generally didn't visit each other the night before the Games, but, officially, there was no rule against it. And if what Baylor was saying was true…

She listened to every word, then shook her head. "Is she sure?"

Baylor shrugged. "No one can really be sure about anything before the Games begin. But it makes sense. It fits with what's been happening so far. If she's wrong, well, then no harm done. But if she's right—"

"—then we need a plan," Melody agreed. "What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know," Baylor admitted. "I just thought I should tell you … that maybe you'd have an idea."

She didn't. If Baylor was right … if Carolina was right … if Adelia was right. That was a lot of ifs. Could she trust them? Baylor, she was fairly certain she could trust. But Carolina wasn't even officially his mentor. Kit was. And Adelia had every reason to want to lead him astray. She didn't seem the sort, but that could be an act. It could all be a trick.

But could they ignore the possibility? It was the only lead they had, the only idea they had about what the arena might hold. What the Gamemakers might have in store. They couldn't just ignore it.

"Okay," Melody nodded at last. "I have an idea."

Calantha Harlyn, 16
District Ten

"I don't have any idea what I'm doing."

Calantha was surprised to hear herself admit it – even to her mentor. But she needed to tell someone. Anyone.

Tess smiled a little as she sat down next to Calantha. "Neither did I. Everyone thought I did. Thought I knew exactly what I was doing. So I pretended. Pretended to be strong. Pretended to be brave." She shook her head. "Do you know where it got me?"

"Home?" Calantha offered. She didn't want to mention the rest. What had happened to Tess after her Games. She didn't want to think about that.

But Tess simply shook her head. "Home, yes, but in a coma. The Games got to me, Calantha, more than I was willing to admit. More than I was willing to accept. Eventually, I broke free, but the Games took almost twenty years of my life. I'm still recovering. I don't want that for you."

"Neither do I," Calantha agreed. "But I also don't want to die."

"Those aren't the only two options," Tess pointed out. "The others … Glenn, Presley … They made it. Without snapping. Without breaking. Because they were willing to admit – at least to themselves – just how afraid they were."

"Afraid," Calantha repeated. That much, she could admit. She was certainly afraid. "And then what?"

"Don't hide from that. Use it. Your fear will keep you alive. It'll keep you sane. Grounded. If you pretend it's not there, it'll eat you up. Bur if you accept it … well, fear can be a powerful thing. A good thing. It can keep you going when you'd rather give up. It can drive you to do things you never thought you were capable of."

Calantha nodded slowly. "I just wish…"

Tess wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close. "I know."

And, for a moment, that was enough.

Elani Ingram, 14
District Eleven

For a moment, it was enough.

Elani looked around as the six of them sat together, silent. She, Philus, and Pan sat on one couch. Tamsin and Elijah shared a second. Shale sat alone in a chair across from them. "I guess this is it," Elani said quietly.

There wasn't much else to say. Her alliance had their plan. Shale had his. Come tomorrow, she, Philus, and Pan would be running away from the bloodbath as quickly as they could. She wasn't sure what Shale planned to do, but the chances of them seeing each other in the arena were slim.

Maybe that was for the best.

At last, Shale stood up slowly and extended his hand to Elani. "Good luck."

Elani looked up, surprised, but shook his hand as firmly as she could. "You, too." Then she watched silently as Shale shook Philus' and Pan's hands, as well, wishing each of them luck in turn.

It was a small gesture. But it was the friendliest he'd been since the reaping. Elani smiled warmly as the older tribute headed for his room. "Maybe he doesn't want to kill us, after all," she offered, trying to lighten the mood.

Elijah smiled a little. "Of course not. None of us go into the Games wanting to kill anyone – except the Careers, I suppose. But he will, if he has to. So once you're in the Games, get away from everyone. Including Shale."

Elani nodded. That had been the plan all along. Get away from the other tributes. Hide. Wait. Don't attack anyone unless they had some sort of advantage.

But they all knew that couldn't last forever.

Barry Zephir, 15
District Twelve

They all knew it couldn't last forever.

Barry glanced back and forth from Eleanor to Brennan. They both seemed so calm. So relaxed. Barry drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "So … now what?"

Brennan shook his head. "Now you get some rest, if you can. Pretend to, if you can't." He shook his head. "There's really not much else to do. Just one thing … one question. I usually make a small gift for the families of the tributes who … who don't come back. If there's anything in particular that you think your family would want…"

Eleanor shrugged. "They have everything they need."

Brennan nodded understandingly. "Barry?"

Barry hesitated. "No," he said at last. "I know what they want. Me. Back home alive. That's all they'd want, and that's what I want to give them."

Brennan nodded a little, as if that was exactly the answer he'd expected from both of them. "Just figured I'd ask. And if you change your minds … you know where to find me."

Barry smiled a little. "And what if we change our minds during the Games?"

Brennan shrugged a little. "Just say so. I'll be listening the whole time. Don't forget that. I'll help you all I can, but it works better if you remember that I'm trying to."

Barry nodded. That was a little bit of comfort, at least: the idea that Brennan would be watching. That his family would be watching. That so many people in District Twelve would be watching, waiting for him to come home.

He just hoped he wouldn't disappoint them.

Finally, Eleanor headed to her room, leaving Barry and Brennan alone. "Any last advice?" Barry asked quietly.

Brennan shook his head. "Trust your instincts. And don't trust anyone else."

Barry nodded. Brennan didn't say it, but the addendum was there. Even Eleanor. Even his district partner, eventually, would be trying to kill him. In the end, there was no one he could really trust. No one in the arena, at least. But, when it came down to it, could he trust Brennan?

He wished he could be sure.

Mags Pharos
District Four Mentor

She wished she knew why.

Mags brushed the tears from her eyes as Bierce came and took a seat by her. Naomi and Kalypso had already headed down to Alistern's bar. Alistern was gone, of course – he had died almost ten years ago – but the bar didn't really have any other name, so Alistern's it was. His legacy, even though he was long gone.

And now Misha was gone, too. Without a goodbye. Without an explanation. He had set fire to the training center, but why? What good had he thought it would do?

"Mags?" Bierce asked quietly. She knew why he was still here, of course. What he was waiting for. It was her job to escort the new mentors down to meet the others. Not an official job, of course, but one she had adopted after Aron Meldair's death during the Tenth Games.

But, for the first time, she didn't want to.

"He's gone, Bierce." Her own voice was so quiet. So weak. She didn't want to go find the other new mentors. Not new. Not like this. They'd all lost tributes before, but this was the first time they'd lost one of their own. A Victor. And it had happened so suddenly. No warning. No preparation. If Misha could die like that, were any of them really safe?

"Yes, he is," Bierce said softly. "But there's nothing we can do about that right now. The other mentors … they need you."

Mags shook her head. He was right, of course. She was one of the oldest Victors who still mentored. Vester, Ivy, Tania – they had all retired. The younger mentors would be looking to her. Her reaction to Misha's death could shape theirs.

Especially the younger ones. Avery. Kit. What sort of example did she want to set for them? Maybe this was the best thing she could show them: that, even in the midst of tragedy, the other Victors would be there for her. That they had to help each other. Be there for each other.

Because there was no one else who would.

"All right." Mags stood up slowly. "Avery. Kit. You. Who else is a new mentor?"

Bierce smiled a little. "There's one more."

Balthasar Doyle
District Two Mentor

They made a strange crowd.

Balthasar glanced at the four mentors outside his door. Mags. Bierce. Avery. Kit. All waiting for … something. "Can I help you?"

Mags smiled a little. "Actually, we're here for you. There's a bar downstairs that's a sort of … gathering place for the mentors during the Games. Would you like to join us?"

Balthasar returned her smile readily. "You had me at 'bar.' Lead the way."

The bar was large and warmly lit, filled with tables, stools, comfortable couches, and lots of screens. A stocky, steely-eyed man in his forties bustled about behind the bar. Balthasar nodded, watching as the others found their places in small groups scattered around the bar.

Mags was immediately surrounded by Hazel, Lander, and Carolina. Miriam and Glenn guided Avery and Kit to another set of couches. Elijah, Nicodemus, and Brennan formed a small circle around one of the lower tables, with Crispin, Tamsin, and Percival nearby. Tobiah and Vernon were drinking at the bar, where they had probably been for a few hours. Jade and Jasper sat across from Camden, with Harriet watching nearby. Bierce quickly joined Naomi and Kalypso, who were sharing a few drinks with Tess and Presley. Harakuise was chatting with the bartender.

Eloise was smiling as she approached Balthasar. "Glad you finally decided to get in on this mentoring thing?"

Balthasar glanced around the bar one more time, then nodded. "Actually, yes. I am."

"Buy you a drink?"

Balthasar smiled as they headed for the bar. "Why not?"

"It beats what you're doing."

"What's that?"

"Waiting for something to happen."