Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: Results of the "final eight" poll are up on the blog. There's a new poll up on my profile, this time asking who your favorite district pair/group is. Feel free to vote for as many as you want, and use whatever criteria you like. This poll isn't likely to have any sort of effect on the Games; I'm just curious.

Day One
Significant

Harriet Bard
District Two Mentor

The tributes were in for some long nights.

Harriet watched silently as the arena grew darker. It was only a little past six in the afternoon, but between the thick cloud cover and the pouring rain, it seemed much later. She'd faced the opposite extreme in her arena. In the frozen tundra, the sun had barely set for an hour or two. But the key to handling either was the same: patience.

Patience, of course, was something many Careers seemed to lack. They had trained their whole lives for this. So, naturally, once they were in the arena, they wanted to start doing things as soon as possible. They wanted to use what they'd learned, show off for the audience, prove themselves to the Capitol and to their loved ones at home.

Which was all well and good – and something she hadn't been immune to herself – but it sometimes led to a tendency to rush into things. Which was why she was grateful that Naella, Jaime, and Inviticus, at least, hadn't fallen into that pattern. They were still inside the hovercraft, still searching for any sort of supplies they could use.

And they'd found their fair share. Inside the cockpit, they'd found a toolbox containing a wrench, a few screwdrivers, and a small pocketknife. They had taken the seats apart to use as bedding. A brief foray into the jungle had yielded several handfuls of berries, which they were sorting through at the moment. In the morning, they were planning to scour the shallow waters for clams, oysters, crabs, fish, or anything else they could eat before setting out in search of tributes.

All in all, not a bad plan.

"Looks like they've got it made, huh?" Balthasar smiled, settling into a seat beside her. Harriet smiled back. He was much more relaxed than Mortimer would have been. Mortimer knew what he was doing, of course, but he was almost as impatient as some of the tributes. Balthasar seemed to understand the value of keeping calm.

"Septimus isn't doing so bad, either," Harriet pointed out. Septimus and his allies were still making their way inland, foraging as they went. Between the five of them – two of them from Nine and one from Seven – they seemed pretty certain about what was safe to eat. Each of them had managed to find a large, club-like branch, though a few of them didn't look particularly thrilled about the prospect of using them.

Balthasar nodded. "So far, so good, it seems – for both of us." He gave her a good-natured clap on the back.

Harriet smiled back. Even though Septimus and Naella weren't allies, they weren't anywhere near the stage of the Games where they would be driven together to fight. Naella and her allies would likely stay at the hovercraft as long as they could, venturing out during the day to hunt, while Septimus seemed content to move his alliance inland, where they wouldn't be competing with each other.

Not yet, at least. Eventually, everyone was competition. But it was only the first day. And a very long first day it had been, too. Harriet raised her glass towards her fellow mentor. "To District Two?"

Balthasar's glass clinked against hers. "To District Two." They both took a long drink. Harriet was almost laughing when she finally set her glass down.

She could get used to this.

Naella Sareen, 18
District Two

She could get used to this.

Naella sat cross-legged by the hovercraft door, twirling the wrench they had found, just watching the rain. It was quickly growing darker outside. Maybe because of the rain, maybe simply because time seemed to move differently in the arena. Harriet had always told the trainees that days had seemed longer in her arena, that every moment seemed to stretch on forever when everyone was on edge.

But she wasn't really on edge. Not yet. Compared to what she had been expecting, the bloodbath had been almost mild. They had held the cornucopia, such as it was, without any real competition. Even Inviticus seemed to be in a better mood than normal – perhaps a bit mollified by the fact that, between the three of them, they had taken out two of District Four's tributes.

Some of their toughest competition was already gone.

Not that the girl had really been competition. But Auster – she had respected him, at least. Perhaps not as an equal, but at least as a comrade. He had earned the right to be here.

And now he was gone.

But Jaime had made the decision, and, once the choice had been made, Naella didn't really have any option but to back her up. Auster had been careless enough to attack Inviticus, too set in his plan to realize that, with Kendall and Brevin nowhere to be found, they needed to keep their numbers as strong as possible.

Now they were only three. Exactly what she had been opposed to during training, when Inviticus had wanted to go it alone, to avoid inviting anyone from Four into their alliance. She hadn't wanted the three of them to be on their own in the arena.

And now they were. But the circumstances were different. Instead of facing several larger groups, the only group in the area that was larger than their own was Septimus'. And who did he have? The girl from Five – a semi-Career at best – and three outer-district tributes without an ounce of real training, real experience.

And, from what she had seen, he wasn't interested in the cornucopia. Nor should he have been, Naella knew. They'd found a few supplies, but nothing substantial. The most important benefit of having the hovercraft to themselves was shelter from the rain.

That was reason enough, of course, to stay – at least for a little while. And when the time came to hunt, they could easily carry everything of value with them. A wrench, a pocketknife, a screwdriver – all were decent weapons in a pinch, and they had gathered several branches to sharpen into spears. In the unlikely event that anyone came to explore the hovercraft while they were gone, they would find nothing significant, and, when the three of them returned, they could simply attack anyone who happened to be foolish enough to think they could stay.

It was a simple enough plan, and Naella had agreed readily when Jaime had proposed it – especially since the only alternative would be leaving someone to guard the hovercraft alone. Plans could change, of course – they already had – but it was as good a place as any to start.

And they had to start somewhere.

Adelia Luciano, 16
District Eight

They had to start somewhere.

Adelia fought to keep a smile on her face as she and her allies neared the top of the hill. Heading uphill had seemed like a good idea at first. Other tributes, she had figured, would be less likely to attempt the climb. And maybe they would be able to see something useful from the top, get a feel for their surroundings.

But it was getting too dark, too quickly, to see anything. She could barely see well enough to avoid crashing into trees in the dark and the rain. Still, she tried to smile. Because even if she couldn't see, the cameras could see her. Her family could see her. The Capitol, the sponsors, her mentors – they could all see her. Maybe someone could send something to help them.

What, though? What they really needed was shelter from the rain, but that wasn't exactly going to come in a parachute. And, other than that, they were doing fairly well for themselves. They'd managed to collect what had proven, so far, to be edible berries and roots before it had grown dark. They had water to spare. And their alliance was in tact.

Thanks to her. Thanks to what she and Carolina had figured out about the groups of tributes. Because she had sought out other allies from the 'replacement' group, she didn't have to worry about scouring the island for the others. They were the largest group in the area – maybe in the whole arena.

Did that mean they should take the initiative? Attack other tributes? She had intended to form a large group mostly for protection, but would the audience be expecting them to take advantage of their position? How long would they be content to watch such a large group simply trekking through the jungle?

Adelia shook the thought from her head. Until they actually saw another tribute, there wasn't much point in debating whether or not they should attack anyone. Other than her own allies, she hadn't seen any other tributes since the bloodbath. As far as she could tell, they were alone in their portion of the arena.

That wouldn't last forever, of course, but, while it did, they might as well take advantage of it. They could rest in relative safety pretty much anywhere they wanted. Someone would have to keep watch, of course, but who would be able to find them when they could barely see three feet in front of them?

Suddenly, a yelp behind her alerted Adelia to the fact that one of the others had tripped. Adelia turned, but, in the dark, she couldn't even see who had stumbled. "Is everyone all right?"

"Yeah," Nadine answered immediately. "I just … Well, I can't really see very well."

That makes six of us. "Let's stop for a while," Adelia suggested, knowing full well that 'for a while' would likely turn into 'for the night.' But they weren't exactly likely to find shelter, and, failing a building of some sort appearing out of thin air, one tree was as good as another to take shelter under for the night.

Quickly, the six of them huddled together beneath the largest tree they could find. The branches didn't keep all the rain off, but it was better than nothing.

It would have to do for now.

Kendall Rios, 18
District Four

Two kills would have to do for now.

Kendall kicked a rock as Brevin settled down under a large tree near the edge of the jungle. She had been hoping to be able to do some hunting after dark. But dark had come sooner than she'd expected, and the darkness was absolute. Even a Career couldn't be expected to navigate the arena with no light at all, and there was no hope of lighting a fire in this downpour.

They would simply have to wait.

Kendall paced back and forth, nearly tripping in her clunky boots. Waiting had never been her strongest suit. Brevin, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to spend the night along the shore. He had even taken off his boots, as if at any moment he might simply decide to go wading in the ocean.

Kendall shook her head. Maybe he wasn't her ideal ally, but at least he'd gotten the job done. He'd been able to choke the life out of the boy from Six, something she hadn't been certain he would have the guts to do. Maybe he hadn't really enjoyed it – or even appeared to find it slightly satisfying – but he had done it, nonetheless. He had killed.

And that was what counted.

So District Four had at least two kills. That was something. The night before the Games – less than twenty-four hours ago, Kendall realized in surprise – Naomi had said that, if they were going to have any chance of restoring District Four's reputation, they had to give the president a reason to change his mind. They had to change the Capitol's mind. And killing two tributes in the bloodbath? Well, that seemed like a pretty good way to start.

But, so far, it was only that: a start. Now they couldn't lose that momentum – not even for a moment. Which was probably why it felt so wrong to rest. To sit down and stop for the night when she could have kept going for hours, if she could only see. But what was the alternative? Push on blindly in the dark in the hopes of stumbling upon another tribute?

No, resting would be better. They had time. Plenty of time. There were still thirty-nine tributes left in the arena. There was no need to get impatient. Not yet.

But she was impatient. Their prey was out there somewhere. Huddled in the dark. Probably hiding. Probably resting. Probably hoping – quite correctly – that no one was going to come looking for them until dawn.

"Now would be a good time for some light, Naomi," Kendall muttered. But she knew better. Even if she and Brevin had made an impression during the bloodbath, Capitolites weren't exactly going to be rushing to sponsor them. Not without the rest of their pack.

The rest of their pack. Kendall stopped in mid-pace, surprised by how easily she had forgotten that they were out there somewhere. How quickly she had resigned herself to the idea that it was just her and Brevin now. That she couldn't count on being able to find the others. That maybe she didn't even want to.

Maybe they were better off alone.

Domingo Ibanez, 14
District Seven

Maybe he was better off alone.

Domingo huddled under a tree in the dark, trying to block out the pouring rain. He hadn't meant to lose track of Calantha, but he had been so focused on getting away from Audra, he hadn't thought to keep track of which way she had gone. For all that he knew, the other two had caught her. Killed her. How many cannons had there been since Audra had let him go? For all he knew, one of them had been hers.

For all he knew, he was alone.

Gadget was dead; that much, he was certain of. Ivira … well, for all he knew, she could be on the other side of the island. And there had been two tributes chasing Calantha. Unless they had let her go, or unless she had been able to outrun or outmaneuver them, then she was probably dead, as well.

And the worst part was, he wasn't sorry. Gadget was dead. Maybe the others were dead, too. But at least he wasn't dead – or even seriously hurt. He was alive. Maybe that was all that counted.

Maybe it was even better this way.

Domingo tucked his knees to his chest, wishing there was some part of him that wasn't wet. Wasn't cold. Maybe it was better to be alone. Alone, he could admit that he was miserable. That he was tired and wet and cold and hungry. Alone, no one would tell him to stop complaining or to grow up.

Alone, maybe he could admit just how afraid he was.

Of course, there were always the cameras. The sponsors. But, now that it came down to it, they didn't seem as important. They were there, of course, but were they really going to decide his fate? Was anyone really planning to sponsor him, anyway?

It wasn't as if he'd done anything impressive. He'd let one ally get killed, lost another, and hadn't seen head or tail of the third. He was alive only because his district partner had been too afraid to kill him when she'd had the chance. Only because she had been the one chasing him, rather than the pair from Nine. He had been lucky so far. Very, very lucky.

He couldn't count on getting that lucky a second time.

But, at the same time, there was nothing he could really have done differently. Nothing except pick different allies, perhaps, but there was no way he could have known. No way anyone could have predicted what had happened. No way he could have known that Gadget would choose to stay and take her chances against the Careers. No way he could have known that they would be separated from Ivira.

None of it was his fault.

Thane Hayer, 17
District Nine

None of it was his fault.

Thane cast a sideways glance at Sariya as the five of them settled down for the night. She seemed oddly – almost irritatingly – at ease with what had happened. As if she didn't mind at all that they had lost their chance to prove themselves worthy of the pack they had been asked to join.

It was her fault, after all. If she hadn't tripped – if he hadn't stopped to wait for her – the other girl would never have gotten away. Not wanting to take on an opponent alone, he had hesitated. And it had cost him.

It had cost both of them.

He hadn't said so in front of Septimus, of course. He couldn't afford to be seen blaming his district partner – even if it was her fault. They would have to work together for quite a while still. They had to be able to trust each other.

But could he trust her?

Thane leaned back against a tree, still uncertain. He couldn't shake the thought that maybe Sariya had done it on purpose. Maybe she had tripped at just the right time. Maybe she had made it look like an accident because she hadn't wanted to kill the girl, but also hadn't wanted to appear weak. Hadn't wanted to admit that she wasn't ready to kill.

Thane clenched his fists. He was probably imagining things. Sariya was as desperate to prove herself as he was. She knew that they couldn't rely on Septimus to pull the weight in their alliance forever – not if one of them wanted to win.

In the end, of course, it didn't matter what she thought. What she did. Because he didn't want 'one of them' to win. He wanted to win. And, in order for that to happen, sooner or later, Sariya would have to go.

But not yet. Right now, they had the advantage in numbers. They were the largest group in the area – maybe in the whole arena. They couldn't afford to lose that advantage so early in the Games.

"Are you sure we shouldn't have stayed at the cornucopia?"

Sariya's question caught Thane off guard. He understood where she was coming from, of course. The cornucopia – or, more accurately, the hovercraft – may not have contained any useful supplies, but at least it would have been a shelter. There were five of them. They may have been able to take on the other alliances, claim the hovercraft for their own.

But Septimus simply shook his head. "No. It may seem like an advantage right now, but, sooner or later, they'll have to abandon the hovercraft and head inland."

"Because that's where the other tributes are?" Liana ventured a guess.

"That, but also something more important," Septimus answered, leaning forward a little. "Think it through. Since we've arrived, what hasn't stopped?"

Silence for a moment. "The rain?" Thane offered.

"The rain," Septimus confirmed. "And what happens when there's too much rain? And what will be the first place to become a bit too … deep for comfort?"

No one answered, but they were all putting the pieces together. "Sooner or later, they'll have to head inland," Septimus concluded. "Inland and uphill." He shrugged.

"Might as well get a head start."

Pan Soya, 12
District Eleven

They already had quite a head start.

Pan huddled close to Elani and Philus in the corner of the cabin nearest the door. So far, everything had turned out so differently from what he'd expected. He had expected to be frightened out of his wits, running for his life for the rest of the Games. Instead, he was relatively safe. They had shelter. Food. Water. Even a weapon. All of his allies were still alive. And they were together.

That was probably about as good as it got in the Games.

It wasn't as if he wasn't afraid, of course. But it wasn't the same constant, paralyzing terror he'd expected. It was more of a silent voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that even though he might be relatively comfortable, he still wasn't safe.

But, right now, that voice was drowned out by the one reminding him how tired he was. How far they had walked earlier in the pounding rain. How far, exactly, it had been, Pan wasn't sure. But it felt like miles. It felt like they should be on the other side of the island by now. The other tributes – wherever they were – were probably far, far away.

Suddenly, the sound of the Capitol anthem interrupted his thoughts. The three of them glanced outside. The rain didn't stop, but the projections were low enough, or bright enough, that they could see them, nonetheless.

The first face belonged to one of the girls from Four. Then one of the boys from Four, as well. Pan cocked an eyebrow. Two Careers, on the very first day. Not a bad stroke of luck. The brother and sister from Six were next, followed by one of the boys from the same district. They were followed by a girl from Seven, and, last, one of the girls from Eight.

And that was it. Seven deaths. So many extra tributes, and only seven deaths so far. Pan leaned back against the wall. In the fading lights from the sky, he thought he saw Elani smile a little. "What is it?"

"Shale," Elani answered quietly. "He's still alive, too."

Pan nodded. Maybe that wasn't supposed to be a good thing. After all, aside from the Careers, Shale was probably one of their strongest opponents. And their older district partner hadn't exactly been kind. But he had never been cruel, either – just distant. And he had wished them luck.

Maybe that wasn't much, but it was something. It meant that maybe he was one of the few tributes in the arena who wouldn't kill them on sight. Who might hesitate a little before slitting their throats or bashing their brains out or—

Stop it.

Pan took a few deep breaths. There was no point in wondering what might happen if they ran into Shale somewhere in the arena. Most likely, it would never happen. They had run directly away from the cornucopia. The last he had seen of Shale, one of his allies had been asking the Careers if the offer still stood.

Whatever offer that was. Probably an offer to join them. And, if that was the case, Shale was probably still back at the hovercraft. Safe and sound and dry just like them – but a long ways away.

Maybe that wasn't so bad.

Ivira Spielreyn, 16
District Eight

Maybe this wasn't so bad.

Ivira gripped Presley's hand tightly as the two trudged onward in the dark. Maybe they should have stopped by now. Maybe. But it was almost as if there was something urging her forwards. Some strange certainty that they were about to come across something significant.

She just wished she could see what it was.

The darkness was growing, and the rain wasn't helping, but, so far, they'd managed not to run into any trees. Maybe that wasn't much, but it was something. And every step was a little more distance between them and the cornucopia. Between them and tributes who might have supplies. Weapons.

Food.

Ivira shook her head, trying not to think of food. She and Presley had found some berries earlier, but neither of them was quite certain whether they were safe to eat or not. And neither of them was willing to take the risk. Not yet.

Just as Ivira was beginning to wonder whether now might be a good time to put that to the test, the ground disappeared beneath her feet, and she and Presley tumbled forwards. But the fall wasn't far, and something broke it. Something that crunched beneath their weight.

"Are you all right?" Presley asked quietly, perhaps fearful that any noise might attract attention.

Ivira nodded, then realized it was probably too dark to see. "I think so. Just a bit bruised. You?"

"I'm all right. What do you think that—"

Presley's question was cut short by the beginning of the Capitol anthem. As the emblem filled the sky, they could at last see what had happened. The pair of them were lying in a pit, perhaps four or five feet deep, twice as long, and twice as wide. They were surrounded by bones, which had also been the source of the crunching noise.

Ivira's mind raced as the faces of the first two tributes – a girl and boy from Four – flashed in the sky. Bones. Too old and dry to belong to the tributes who had died so far. And too many bones. Most seemed in tact, but a few were charred, and others were broken – and not just from their fall. What if…?

Ivira's train of thought was cut short as more faces flashed in the sky. Cordelia. Paget. Alexi. All from District Six. All Presley's allies.

Presley simply stared, speechless. They had known about Alexi, of course, but the others – they were a surprise. A girl from seven appeared, and then Gadget. Ivira nodded, unsurprised. Gadget had been useful, but she would never have lasted on her own. Presley, on the other hand…

The younger girl was putting on a brave face, but her mood had dropped considerably. "They're dead," she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. "They're all dead."

Ivira wrapped an arm around Presley's shoulders. "Yes, they are," she said softly. "But you know what?" She smiled a little in the dying light from the projections in the sky.

"We can avenge them."

Presley Delon, 13
District Six

She could avenge them.

Presley clung to that thought as she and Ivira searched through the bones for anything that might be useful. The darkness made it difficult, but, every so often, a flash of lightning would illuminate the area. It was during one of those flashes that she found what she was looking for – a pair of hammers, hidden amongst the bones.

Maybe it wasn't much of a weapon, Presley thought as she handed one to Ivira. But it was something. And once they proved themselves to the sponsors, once they showed the Capitol what they could do…

Give them what they want to see, Nicodemus had said. And surely he would say the same thing now. Now that all of her allies were dead. Now that he had lost three tributes in one day. Surely he would agree that it was time to act.

Presley fingered the hammer as she glanced up at Ivira. "Now what?"

Ivira shrugged. "Now we wait."

Wait. That wasn't what she had expected to hear. Didn't Ivira have a plan? Hadn't she just suggested that they could avenge the people they had lost? How were they supposed to do that if they waited here?

Ivira seemed to sense her disappointment. "Think about it. If we go out there, what are the chances we'll just happen to stumble across a tribute we think we can handle? Isn't it better to bring them to us?"

That made sense. Presley shrugged a little. "Sure. But how?"

Ivira smirked. "How's your acting?"

"My acting?"

"Sure. Little thirteen-year-old tribute crying over the deaths of her three allies. You scurry up there where someone will be able to see you if they come along. You put on a show, lure them down here. Either they'll take pity on you and try to comfort you, or they'll see you as an easy target and try to kill you. Either way … I'll be waiting for them."

Presley cocked an eyebrow. It seemed a little too easy. "And you think someone's just going to … come along?"

Ivira shrugged. "Now that we've told the Gamemakers our plan? Absolutely."

Presley hesitated. Counting on the Gamemakers to help them – it seemed risky. But maybe it was a better option than venturing out into the jungle in search of other tributes in the dark. "All right," she agreed. "Let's give it a try. And if it doesn't work … well, we haven't exactly lost anything."

"That's the spirit," Ivira agreed readily, giving Presley a boost out of the pit. "Just try to look as sad as you can. Pitiful. You just lost your allies, remember?"

She remembered. As she climbed out of the pit, Presley did her best to look lost and pitiful. But thinking of Cordelia, Paget, and Alexi didn't make her sad. It made her angry. Angry that she hadn't been able to do anything. She had been helpless to save them. Helpless, just like she had felt for so many years in the orphanage. Before she had taken matters into her own hands.

"Sad, not angry," Ivira chided when another flash of lightning allowed her to see. "No one's going to come after you if you look like you're going to murder them."

She was right. Presley clenched her teeth, biting back her anger. Trying to let sadness surface instead. But it didn't help. Nothing helped. "I don't know…" she said at last. "How do I…?"

Ivira sighed. "It's not that hard."

Presley glared. "If it's not that hard, then why don't you do it?"

"Because you look less threatening than I do." Ivira thought for a moment. "Presley?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know where these bones came from?" Ivira asked in a whisper, handing one up to Presley. Presley turned it over in her hands. It was only half a bone, really. Broken. Shattered. Finally, she put it together.

And she began to cry.

Calantha Harlyn, 16
District Ten

She wished she could stop crying.

Calantha leaned back against a tree, her knees curled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, trying to stay warm. The rain hadn't been particularly cold during the day, but now, in the dark, it seemed to chill her to the bone. She might have tried to light a fire, but how would any fire last in this rain? She wished the rain would stop – just for a little while. Just for a few minutes.

But it didn't. It just kept pouring. The only good thing was that it hid her tears. She couldn't even say for sure why she was crying. Maybe because she was alone. Maybe because she knew Domingo was out there somewhere – probably somewhere very close – but she still hadn't been able to find him. And she didn't dare call out for him for fear of someone else answering.

They had almost caught her before, after all – the pair from Nine. If the girl hadn't tripped, if the boy hadn't stopped to help her … She wasn't sure what would have happened, but it couldn't have been good. Would they really have killed her? She wasn't sure, but she was glad she hadn't found out.

She was still alive.

Calantha clung to that thought as she shivered silently in the dark. Maybe she was wet. Maybe she was cold and tired and hungry. But she was alive. She was still here. And Domingo and Ivira were alive. Maybe she couldn't find them tonight, but tomorrow – when there was light – she could start looking.

Tomorrow.

Finally, Calantha lay down beneath the tree. She wasn't going to be able to find anyone tonight, so she might as well get some rest. No one would be out hunting in this weather – not in the dark. The Careers were probably tucked safely inside their hovercraft, while the boy from Two and his allies … well, she wasn't quite sure where they were. But she would probably hear them coming. There were five of them, after all; they couldn't exactly hide.

Besides, if they found her – asleep or awake – there wasn't much she could do. She wouldn't be able to outrun all five of them. She had been lucky to outrun two. She had nothing to fight with. So being killed in her sleep … maybe that would be the best way to go, given the option. That probably wasn't the right mindset at all, she knew, but she was too tired, too miserable, to care.

Calantha closed her eyes. The ground was hard, the roots beneath her jabbing into her chest and limbs. She shifted a little, trying to find a better position. But there was none. The roots were everywhere. The ground was uncomfortable, the roots hard, and the dirt beneath her was already mud. But, somehow, she finally drifted off to sleep, still clinging to that one thought.

She was still alive.

Louis Soren, 14
District Eight

He was still alive.

Louis clung to that thought as he slowly trudged forward in the dark, an occasional flash of lightning providing enough light to see by. He wasn't sure exactly what he expected to find, but he did know that he would never be able to sleep out here. Not in the cold and the rain, not without any sort of shelter.

And if he wasn't going to sleep, then he might as well keep moving. Louis leaned heavily on the staff he had fashioned as he trudged onwards. He might as well put as much distance as he could between himself and any tributes who might be impatient enough to be out hunting in the rain. They probably weren't, but, once dawn came again, any extra ground he covered during the night would be a good thing.

Suddenly, he heard something. At first, he wasn't sure over the rain, but, as he crept closer, a flash of lightning confirmed it. There was a little girl nearby, sitting at the edge of what looked like a pit, sobbing. Louis' mind raced, trying to place her, and, when the lightning flashed again, he recognized her. Presley. The youngest girl from Six.

No wonder she was crying. The faces in the sky had included three tributes from District Six – three tributes he was fairly certain had been her allies. Her only allies. She was alone.

And he had a weapon.

Still, Louis hesitated. When he'd taken the staff, he'd meant to use it for protection – not to attack crying little girls. But could he afford to pass up the opportunity? If he proved he was ready to kill, maybe the sponsors would send him something. A weapon. Some food. Maybe some clothes that were actually waterproof.

But only if he made a move.

Slowly, Louis crept closer. The next flash of lightning revealed the girl digging through one of her pockets, putting something in her mouth. That decided it. Even if he couldn't kill her, maybe he could threaten her or frighten her into giving him some food. He had found some berries along the way, but he hadn't been certain whether they were poisonous or not. But if she was eating them…

"Please don't hurt me."

Louis stopped, startled. Apparently, he hadn't been as quiet as he'd thought. He raised his staff in what he hoped was a threatening manner. "I don't want to. Just give me your food, and I'll … I'll be on my way." He wasn't sure whether it was true. Maybe it was. Maybe he didn't need the sponsors to send him anything yet. Maybe he just needed food. And she was so scared…

The girl didn't object. She simply thrust a handful of berries towards him, then dug in her pockets for another. "Here. Take it. Just … just let me go. Please."

Louis took a handful of the berries and stuffed them in his pocket. The second handful, he stuffed right into his mouth. They were sweet and juicy. Louis swallowed, pointing his stick at the girl. "You got lucky this time, kid. I'll just be on my way and we can both—" A sharp pain in his stomach cut him off. The berries. But…

Louis crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach. A flash of lightning showed not one girl, but two standing over him, each holding a hammer. "Nice work, Presley," the older girl grinned. "Now we know not to eat those ones."

But she was eating them. Or, at least, it had looked like she was. Louis couldn't help crying out in pain as his throat and stomach began to burn. He could taste blood in his mouth. The girls forward, hammers raised. Louis closed his eyes as the first one came down.

Soon, the cannon sounded.

Aleron Blanchet, 15
District Three

The cannon woke all of them.

Aleron turned to Adelia, startled. "You said we would be safe here," he whispered frantically. "You said no one would be hunting at night. If no one's out hunting, then what was that?"

"I said they probably wouldn't be hunting," Adelia hissed back. "And we don't know that they were. For all we know, someone ran into a tree or fell into a river or died of injuries they got before it got dark. Or maybe they were attacked by mutts. We don't know what happened, and we certainly don't know where, so go back to sleep."

Go back to sleep. As if it was that easy. And maybe it was for her; Adelia simply put her head back down and appeared to go back to sleep, leaving Jediah on guard as before. Jediah shrugged. "It's okay; we're all a bit nervous. You can stay up and watch with me if you want."

Aleron shook his head. He didn't want to stay up and watch. He didn't want to stay anywhere. They weren't safe staying anywhere. If the Gamemakers had sent mutts to spice things up a bit, it was probably because the tributes weren't being interesting enough. And what was less interesting than six teenagers sleeping in a jungle when they had the numbers to be doing something.

Slowly, Aleron stood up, stretching his limbs. "Where are you going?" Jediah asked before he'd taken more than a few steps.

"I need to … you know," Aleron finished awkwardly.

Jediah nodded. "Just don't go too far. It's not like anyone can see you, anyway."

Nonetheless, Aleron went a good thirty or forty paces before stopping to relieve himself. Strange, he realized, that they never seemed to show that onscreen. Brutal, grisly deaths of all sorts? Fine, perfect to showcase for all of Panem. But a tribute urinating? Better turn the cameras somewhere else.

Aleron smiled at the thought, wishing he knew where the nearest camera was so he could show them exactly what he thought of the Games so far. But there were no cameras to be found, so he simply zipped his jumpsuit back up again. Silently, he glanced around in the dark, then peered downhill – away from his sleeping allies. They had stopped because Adelia had been convinced they wouldn't be able to find anything in the dark. But what if there was something – something important – just waiting for them? Just a few feet in the other direction.

Aleron took one step. Then another. If there was – and if he was the one to find it – then the sponsors would love it. They would love him. And there were few things more beneficial in the Games than the sponsors' support. And his allies – if he found something that could help them all, then they would have to listen to him. They would have to follow whatever plan he suggested.

Maybe that would be enough to make him the leader.

Not that Adelia was a terrible leader, but she was too cautious. She had led them away from the cornucopia without a second thought, without considering that they were by far the largest group in the area. Maybe they could have stayed there. Maybe they could be warm and dry now, instead of traipsing through the rain and the mud.

Yes. Yes, that was it. He would find something. He would help them all. They would make him their leader. Then they would go back to the hovercraft, take it, and stay there where it was safe.

But first he had to prove himself.

Shale Avenheim, 18
District Eleven

"This is our chance to prove ourselves!"

Shale leaned back against the hovercraft wall, doing his best to stay out of the argument. Ever since the most recent cannon had sounded – maybe half an hour ago – Imalia had been trying to convince Jarlan that now was the best time to go out and hunt. After all, there were other groups out there – maybe using the lighting to see by – so they should be, too.

And the worst part was, he was beginning to agree with her.

It wasn't that he wanted to hunt – not that he wanted to kill – but he understood her urge to do something. So far, they had simply sat in the safety of their hovercraft. No kills during the bloodbath. No exploring. No looking for food. They had done nothing. If they went out now, even if they didn't find any tributes, maybe they could find food.

And maybe that would be enough. Enough to convince the Capitol that they were worth taking an interest in. Right now, they were simply two outer-district tributes and two disgraced Careers whose only claim was that they had been the only ones interested in staying where they were. They hadn't fought – unless Jarlan and Imalia's arguing counted – and they hadn't killed. How long would the Gamemakers let them sit there?

Imalia crossed her arms. "If I didn't know you better, I'd think you didn't want to go hunting. Maybe you don't even want to kill anyone."

Jarlan looked up, and Shale could tell that Imalia had struck a nerve. After what had happened the year before, after what had happened during the interviews, tributes from District Four couldn't afford to seem like they didn't want to fight. Was that why she was so tetchy? Was she worried that, if they did nothing, the Capitol might start to think they didn't want to fight, or, worse, that they didn't want anyone to fight?

If they didn't do something now, did they risk being considered rebels?

He couldn't risk that. Not with six brothers back home. Whatever happened to him in the arena, he couldn't afford to put their lives in danger, which was exactly what would happen if the Capitol began to see him as a rebel. Or even someone who might be sympathetic to the rebels.

That was enough to tip the balance. "I agree with Imalia," he said at last. "We should do something. This is the perfect opportunity. None of the tributes will be expecting anyone to be hunting at night – not in this weather. We'll have the element of surprise. We pick up an easy kill or two, maybe find some food along the way, and then come back. What do we have to lose?" he finished with a smile, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

Shale watched as Jarlan registered his vote. It was two against one now. Sensing the tide was turning, Imalia glanced over at Indira. "What do you think?"

Shale had a feeling she wouldn't have asked unless she knew the answer. Indira hesitated a moment, but then nodded. "I'm with you. Let's go."

Finally, Jarlan conceded. "All right. But someone should stay here to guard the cornucopia."

"Hovercraft," Imalia corrected. "There's nothing worth guarding here. But I suppose you're volunteering."

Jarlan shrugged. "Shelter is shelter, which I'm sure you'll realize after an hour or two out in the rain. And since all of you seem so eager to go…"

Shale followed Imalia out the door. No, not eager. Eager was the wrong word. Even Imalia hadn't seemed eager to go. Just desperate. Desperate to prove herself. Almost as desperate as he was to convince the Capitol that he and Indira hadn't chosen to ally with a pair of rebels. But this hunting expedition could be a step in the right direction. Silently, the three of them gathered up a few rocks from the beach and set out.

There was no going back now.

Nicodemus Ford
District Six Mentor

There was no going back now.

Nicodemus watched silently as Presley and Ivira stepped back, allowing the hovercraft to come and collect Louis' body. Their first kill. And, if Presley was going to make it out alive, it wouldn't be her last.

Except it wasn't really her first kill, he reminded himself. And that much, at least, was evident in her bearing as she shook hands with Ivira. She was smiling. Proud. Proud of the way she had tricked Louis into testing the berries for them by pretending to eat them herself. Proud that she and her ally had clubbed Louis over the head with their hammers until the cannon sounded.

Nicodemus leaned back in his wheelchair, trying not to think about that. Trying not to think about the fact that it was no accident – hammers ending up in the hands of a tribute from District Six. Just like it was no accident that Presley had been the one to find those bones, broken and shattered. Whether the Gamemakers had managed to procure the actual bones of the people who had been executed last year – or whether Presley was simply meant to think they had – maybe that didn't matter. Ivira had managed to use it against her.

Or for her, maybe, depending on what happened now. He had no doubt that some of Presley's tears had been real. What Ivira had done was cruel … but what if it was necessary? What if finding those bones, and realizing what they represented, was what it took to give Presley a reason to fight – a reason beyond revenge against the Careers, revenge for her dead allies.

After all, revenge wasn't what had driven her to help kill Louis. Not really. He had threatened her, but only with a stick. Would he really have stood a chance against both her and Ivira in a fair fight? Probably not. She'd had no reason to fear him. That part had been an act.

And Louis had fallen for it. She had shown him what he'd wanted to see. He had wanted to believe he could threaten her. Wanted to believe he was intimidating enough to take what he wanted and simply move on. And Presley had used that.

And now they had the Capitol's attention.

Presley, the young murderess ready to strike again. And Ivira, who hadn't hesitated to kill a district partner. That sort of reputation was invaluable, especially when there was a tribute on the other side of the island who had hesitated to do just that. And sometimes reputation could be enough to save a tribute's life.

He'd gained his own reputation during the Games, after all, though he'd only found out about it afterwards. The Capitol had dubbed him the silent killer, and understandably so. He had spent his Games hiding in the tunnels beneath the arena, coming out only at night, killing other tributes who happened to be sleeping nearby and taking their supplies.

So what was the difference between him and Presley?

Not much, maybe. Nicodemus managed a smile as Presley and Ivira settled down for the night amid a pile of bones, their hammers in hand. The bones didn't matter. The hammers didn't matter. Let the Capitol have their fun. Let them think they were playing with him. If it brought him even a little closer to bringing a tribute home, it was worth it.

But it still hurt.

Nicodemus closed his eyes, fighting back the pain. The pain he had thought he had under control. The pain that had come flooding back with a vengeance as soon as Presley had raised a hammer to strike a helpless opponent who was already dying.

Don't think about it. Breathe. Just breathe.

Suddenly, Nicodemus felt a hand on his arm. He opened his eyes, expecting Brennan or maybe Elijah. Instead, Kit stood hesitantly beside him, offering his silent support.

Nicodemus nodded, and Kit leaned in close. Nicodemus wrapped his arms around the boy. "It's all right," he whispered quietly. "It'll be all right. We'll be all right."

And that was enough – that little bit of comfort. Nicodemus held Kit close as the boy's tears spilled onto his shirt. His own pain had drawn Kit closer in a way his words never would have. He could offer support all he wanted, but what had finally opened the boy up was the chance to give comfort.

And now they could help each other.

"You have a gift. And don't you think you're meant to do something significant with it?"