Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is still not mine.

Note: In case you haven't yet been informed by the fan fiction grapevine and haven't been stalking my profile ... I have an open SYOT. It's an alternate universe Victors' Quell, and I'm very excited. Information and the tribute form are on my profile, and there's still plenty of time to submit.

Day Two
Getting Saner

Carolina Katzung
District Eight Mentor

"I wish they'd make up their minds."

Carolina shook her head as Lander took another drink. "Who?"

Lander shrugged. "The audience. The Capitol. The Gamemakers. Whoever decides whether it's okay for tributes to torture each other in the Games. Vester's year, they were perfectly fine with it – because it was rebels who were being tortured. Then, your year, they did everything in their power to make sure Alicante didn't make it out alive … even though, when he died, he was in the process of torturing a rebel – or, at least, a rebel's son. Last year, everyone seemed content to watch anyone even remotely related to the rebellion – and even some who weren't – die brutal, agonizing deaths. But now, as soon as a tribute prolongs another's death even a little, making it a bit more painful that it had to be – boom! Instant smoke monster! Despite the fact that she could only do so because they sent her a weapon."

Carolina nodded. "You're looking for a pattern."

"Well, yeah. Because I'd like to help keep our tributes from becoming part of that pattern."

Carolina smiled a little. It always came back to that, in the end. If Lander was trying to solve a problem, figure out a pattern, there was always a reason. A reason that involved keeping their tributes alive. He didn't have Harakuise's compulsive urge to figure out everyone's motivation and inner workings, or her own need for order and reason. He would never admit it, but his motivations were simpler. Purer, maybe.

But that meant that he sometimes missed things.

Carolina took a long drink. "Sometimes there isn't a solution. Sometimes the pattern is that there isn't a pattern."

There was silence for a moment before Lander caved. "All right. Are you going to explain that, or just leave it hanging there?"

"It's all about what the audience wants. But what the audience wants isn't simple. If the audience simply wanted a lot of torture, every tribute would be trying to make every death as gruesome as possible. But they don't really want that. On the other hand, if they didn't want a lot of blood and gore, they could simply provide the tributes with a cornucopia full of guns. Certainly a lot quicker. But they don't want that, either."

"They want something in between."

"They want everything in between. The audience isn't a single entity, all wanting the same thing. They're people, and what they want fluctuates from year to year. Vester's year, he was able to play on the fact that the rebellion was recent. Their anger, their bloodlust – it was all fresh. By the time my Games came around, some of that had cooled – but not all of it. If Kaji had been Alicante's only victim, they would probably have gone along with it. Or maybe if he had started with Kaji. But he didn't. His motivations had nothing to do with the rebellion, and they picked up on that."

"And last year it was all about the rebellion," Lander nodded. "But what about India?"

Carolina shook her head. "I don't know. And maybe that's the point. Because what they're really after – what the audience really wants – is for the Games to be unpredictable." She shrugged. "And what's more unpredictable than a column of smoke swooping in out of nowhere to kill a random tribute?"

"It wasn't random," offered a voice.

Carolina glanced up at Eldred. "What do you mean?"

"The column of smoke – When did it first appear?"

"When the river pulled Cordelia's body into the cave," Carolina answered.

Eldred nodded. "And who would Cordelia have had a grudge against? Maybe the tribute who killed her brother?"

"India." Carolina shook her head. "You're saying that the smoke monster is Cordelia? Or that it's acting based on her wishes – her last thoughts?"

Eldred shrugged. "Not at all. I'm just saying that's what we're meant to think – and what some of the more gullible members of the audience might latch onto. Like you said, they're a mixed bunch. The idea of a tribute being transformed into a column of smoke and seeking revenge against those who wronged her – some of them will eat it up. The rest will dismiss it as nonsense, but it doesn't matter. It's interesting, it's unpredictable, and, like you said, that's what they want."

"They," Carolina repeated. "But not you?"

Eldred shrugged. "I'm just the barkeep. Doesn't really matter what I want."

"But if it did…"

Eldred smiled a little. "If I had my way, I'd do away with the mutts entirely. They're interesting, sure, but they take the focus away from the tributes. Some mutts moreso than others, of course. Seagull mutts? Who really cares? But as soon as you have dinosaurs running around stepping on tributes, then tributes have to resort to more and more drastic measure in order to get the audience's attention."

Carolina shook her head. "Alicante didn't do what he did to get attention. He did it because he thought it was beautiful."

Eldred simply shrugged. "I wasn't talking about Alicante."

Eleanor Marxs, 16
District Twelve

"They weren't talking about a real shadow."

Eleanor nodded silently, fighting not to snap at Barry for stating the obvious. Of course the statue didn't have a shadow. Because shadows required sunlight. And the rain still hadn't stopped. So of course there was no real shadow; that should have been obvious from the start.

Should have been. They had been so focused on getting to the statue – getting somewhere that might be relatively safe – that they hadn't really considered the wording of the message. But now that they were standing next to a giant statue of what appeared to be a human with the head of some sort of mutt, and there didn't seem to be anything useful in sight.

Still, Barry seemed determined to get as close as possible. "Maybe we could stay out of the rain, at least," he suggested. Eleanor followed him closer, until they were standing beneath the statue's two giant legs, which blocked most of the rain. "See?" Barry smiled. "This isn't so bad."

And maybe it wasn't. But she had been hoping for more. Some sort of shelter or protection, not just a barrier for the rain. But she sat down next to Barry, anyway, leaning against one of the statue's feet.

It was better than nothing.

Eleanor leaned back against the statue, exhausted. Her shoulder was throbbing. Her whole body ached. Why had they walked this far instead of simply settling down under one of the trees that had been nearby? It would have served the same purpose…

Suddenly, Eleanor felt the wall behind her give way. She lurched forward just in time to avoid falling as the stone slid away, revealing a doorway. Barry stared, grinning like an idiot at the open passageway behind her. "So that's what they meant! They didn't mean a shadow outside the statue. They meant What lies inside the statue?"

Eleanor shook her head. "Then why not just say that? Why say 'in the shadow'?"

Barry shrugged. "Maybe it sounded more mysterious. Who cares? Let's check it out."

Eleanor hesitated. "Do you think it's safe?"

"Safer than what? Than waiting around out here for more Careers to catch up to us?"

He had a point. Nothing in the Games was ever going to be completely safe. And if Brennan had wanted them to come here, then maybe Barry was right. Maybe it meant they were still being followed and would need somewhere safe to hide.

Besides, it couldn't be much worse than staying outside and being pummeled by rain. "All right," Eleanor agreed reluctantly. "Inside the statue it is." Cautiously, the pair of them stepped inside.

And the door slid shut behind them.

Domingo Ibanez, 14
District Seven

He wished he could close the door behind him.

Domingo took a deep breath as he tied the last of the rope back together, hoping his knots would hold. All in all, he had somewhere between fifteen and twenty feet of rope, knotted and twisted together where India had sliced it apart to tie Calantha.

He just hoped it would be enough.

Whether or not it was enough, of course, depended on how long the tunnel continued straight down from the hatch before branching off. If it did branch off. Domingo clenched the rope tightly in his fists. It had to. It couldn't go down forever. The Gamemakers wouldn't have led him here simply to let him drop to his death.

Would they?

But they had led the other girl to her death. The girl from Three had clearly believed she was following the Gamemakers' instructions. What made him any different?

Domingo turned the coil of rope over in his hands. He would just have to hope that he was different. That the Gamemakers would spare him. That they had something else in mind. Because he certainly wasn't going to spend any more time out in the cold and the rain – not with the two bodies they still hadn't collected.

Not if he didn't have to.

Using as little rope as he could, Domingo tied the end around the nearest tree. It was smaller than the others, its trunk thinner, but he didn't dare use one that was farther away. He would need every inch of rope. He would just have to hope the tree would hold.

Domingo dropped the other end of the rope into the hole. Part of him wanted to close the door behind him. To block the rain. To keep anyone from following him down. But then he would be climbing in darkness. Domingo swallowed hard. He would just have to hope no one would come after him.

That was a lot of hoping.

Domingo shook his head. Even if he closed the door, other tributes would still notice it was there. They could still see the rope tied to a tree. They would still be able to find him. Closing the door would accomplish nothing – except perhaps lulling himself into a false sense of safety. And blocking some of the rain. But, assuming the drop did end at some point and branch off, he would be out of the rain soon enough. And if it didn't…

If it didn't, then he could just climb back up. Which would be easier if he could see. His mind made up, Domingo gripped the first knot in the rope, swung his legs into the tunnel, and started to climb down the rope.

At first, it was easy. Almost too easy. Gripping the rope in both hands, Domingo placed both his feet against the wall of the tunnel, and simply slid down little after little. Slowly, the light at the top grew farther and farther away. Domingo looked down. He might as well have closed the door, for all he could see. He couldn't see the bottom – if it existed. He could barely see his hands on the rope.

But he could feel it when he reached the end.

For a moment, he panicked, gripping the knot he had tied at the end with all his strength. He had told himself he could simply climb back up if he didn't reach the bottom. But there was a part of him that hadn't really believed he would run out of rope. He had assumed the bottom would be close.

Domingo looked down. Maybe it was. Maybe it was right below his feet. Or maybe it was twenty, fifty, or even a hundred feet down. Could he survive twenty feet? Fifty?

And what if there was nothing at the bottom? What if it was just a hole? If he let go of the rope now – even if the drop didn't kill him – he wouldn't be able to climb back out. What if there was nothing down there?

But what if there was?

What if there was food, or weapons, or dry clothes – just a few feet below him? Could he afford not to take that chance?

What would the audience think?

The audience. So far, he had survived – but he owed none of that to himself. Audra had spared his life. It was mere chance that India had found Calantha instead of him in the jungle. If the column of smoke hadn't attacked her, he would never have been able to kill her. He wouldn't have any weapons at all…

The knife.

His arms aching, Domingo pulled himself up a few feet along the rope, wrapped his legs around it, and reached into one of his pockets. He pulled out the girl's knife, took a deep breath, and dropped it.

Plop.

One second. Maybe two. The plop had sounded like water. Which made sense – rain had been falling into the hole ever since he'd opened the hatch. But how much water? How deep? He hadn't even thought of that. If there was a pond down there, or a lake, or simply ocean water, he didn't stand a chance.

But if it was just a puddle, formed by the water that had fallen…

Stop thinking.

There was no choice. Not really. The longer he spent trying to talk himself out of it, the more he realized what he had to do. Slowly, carefully, Domingo slid back down to the end of the rope. He took a deep breath. "One," he whispered. "Two. Three. Four. Five."

Then he let go.

Evander Mercado, 16
District Three

He couldn't just let her go.

Evander wiped the rain from his eyes as the four of them raced after Nadine. The little girl was faster than she looked. Or perhaps Adelia didn't want to catch her just yet. She knew Nadine was leading them somewhere, so maybe she was simply content to follow.

For now, the rest of them seemed to agree. Aleron might still be out there somewhere, but that was no reason to let Nadine simply run off, as well. Especially when there was no guarantee that Aleron was coming back.

Evander clenched his fists. He should have done something. Should have stayed awake. Should have kept a better eye on Aleron. The boy was his district partner, after all. They were supposed to take care of each other.

But they couldn't take care of each other forever.

Was Aleron simply ahead of the rest of them? Had he seen an opportunity to split off peacefully and simply taken it? But it was only the second day. Why join their alliance in the first place if he was going to leave them so soon?

Suddenly, Nadine stopped. "There!" she pointed triumphantly, waiting for them to catch up.

And, as they came to the top of a smaller hill, they could see what she was pointing at. Houses. Three of them, at least – maybe more – just beyond a small river, narrow enough to wade across – or maybe even jump across. Evander stared, blinking the rain from his eyes, convinced he must be seeing things. Why would the Gamemakers put houses in the middle of the arena?

But, as they neared the river, it was clear that the houses weren't an illusion. The nearest one stood just beyond the river – large and inviting and a very cheery yellow. And there, standing next to the house and grinning, was Aleron.

Aleron waved, still smirking. "What took you so long?"

Evander immediately charged through the river, his boots sloshing in the shallow water until he reached the other side. "You idiot! We were all worried! Why didn't you tell us where you were going?" He threw his arms around Aleron.

Aleron only shrugged. "Because I didn't know. I was thinking that maybe if I found some weapons, we could go back and take the cornucopia. But this is even better! Come on! Take a look inside!"

Flabbergasted, the five of them followed Aleron inside the house. Immediately inside was a large wooden table, piled high with plenty of fruit, vegetables, nuts, and dried meat. Six places were set around the table, almost as if they'd been expected.

"I wanted to wait for you, but I got hungry," Aleron shrugged. "So I helped myself. But there's plenty left. It's just like a cornucopia. Better, because we're the only ones who know it's here."

For now, Evander almost said. Large stockpiles of food didn't go unnoticed in the Games for long. "What if someone else finds us?" he asked at last.

Aleron shrugged, picking up the knife from one of the place settings. "I'm guessing that's why they gave us these." The knife was sharp – almost a steak knife, better for cutting meat than the fruits and vegetables that covered the table. Aleron slammed the knife down into one of the tomatoes, squirting juice everywhere.

"If they find us, we'll be ready."

Presley Delon, 13
District Six

She was ready.

Presley stretched a little as Ivira woke her. They had taken turns sleeping during the day. Better for keeping watch, Ivira had said. And, after what had happened during the night, Presley had been too tired to argue. Ivira had taken the first watch, and, every so often, they had traded. Every couple of hours, they had said at the start, but, without the sun, they had no real way of telling time, so they'd had to make do with their best guess.

And, so far, things had gone pretty well. The sky was growing darker. The second day of the Games was almost over, and no one but the boy from Eight had found them. For the most part, they had slept soundly. There had been five cannons since the boy's, but, so far, no one had disturbed them.

But that couldn't last forever. They both knew that. Eventually, someone else would find them. And, when they did, they had to be ready to take advantage of that. "Should I start crying again?" Presley asked.

Ivira shook her head. "We shouldn't use the same trick again – not so soon, at least."

Why not? Presley almost asked. It had worked, after all. And the tributes certainly wouldn't know. The boy certainly hadn't had time to tell anyone else. But the audience. They would know. If they kept using the same strategy over and over again, the audience would grow bored of it. They needed to come up with something new. Because that was what the audience wanted.

Give them what they want to see.

"So what do you think—" Presley started to ask, but, immediately, Ivira clapped a hand over her mouth. Instinctively, Presley bit the other girl's hand as hard as she could. Ivira barely stifled a yelp, yanking her hand away. "Shh," Ivira hissed. "I heard someone."

Presley froze. "Who is it?"

Ivira peered over the edge of the pit. "I don't know. I don't see them. But I thought I heard voices. So that means there's probably more than one."

More than one. Between the two of them, they had been able to handle the boy from Eight on their own. But would they be able to take on more than one tribute at a time – with only a pair of hammers? "What do we do?" Presley whispered.

"We can't stay here," Ivira whispered back. "The Gamemakers will make sure they find us. We can't attack them – not yet. Not without knowing how many of them there are."

"So we run?" Presley asked. She didn't like it, but it seemed like the only other option.

Ivira shook her head. "No, not run. If we run, they'll catch us. Or the Gamemakers will stop us. But we have to get out of here – and quickly."

"So what do we do?"

Ivira grinned. "We stalk."

Brevin Tolett, 17
District Four

They almost looked like they were stalking something.

Brevin watched, confused, as the pair of tributes crept forwards in the jungle, watching the ground intently, as if following something. He glanced over at Kendall, who shook her head. Not yet.

They could attack, of course. From what they could see, the only weapons the girls had were a pair of hammers. Not that he and Kendall had much, but they'd managed to find a pair of large sticks to use as clubs. Once they got within reach, it would be a short fight. An easy fight.

But if the girls had found something – a trail, or maybe some tracks – then that might lead them to something even better. A trail could mean other tributes. Tracks could mean food. What sort of trail they could be following in the rain, Brevin wasn't sure, but they were certainly looking at something, and following it so intently that they hadn't even noticed him and Kendall.

Or perhaps they were pretending not to.

That was the other option, of course. It might be a trick. Maybe the pair had heard them coming and assumed that, if they appeared to be tracking something themselves, maybe he and Kendall wouldn't attack right away. But, the way he saw it, there was no harm in waiting. They could attack at any time, if they decided it was a trick. Why not wait it out a little longer?

And Kendall seemed to be on the same page, tiptoeing along beside him through the mud. These two would be easy kills – either now or later. If there was a chance they could be following someone stronger, or some sort of mutt that could be good for food, then it was worth the chance of losing them.

Because that was really the only risk of waiting – the small chance that they might get away. It couldn't be a trap – not without some sort of alliance waiting for them. And the younger girl was from Six. He had killed one of her allies, and the other two had been among the faces in the sky. As for the older girl – the girl from Eight – her allies were probably wherever the rest of his alliance was: nowhere to be found.

Probably.

Brevin clenched his teeth. Part of him wanted to attack now. To get it over with. Maybe then the sponsors would finally send something. A weapon, maybe. Or even just a little food. They'd managed to find some roots and berries that he'd been certain weren't poisonous, but even those hadn't been very filling. But if they had a weapon, then they could hunt – and not just other tributes. They could hunt for food.

But only if they found weapons. Or earned some from the sponsors. And, yes, they could attack these two now. But why would that make any more of an impression than their two kills during the bloodbath? No, they had to find someone stronger. Someone more impressive. Or a larger alliance.

But were they in a position to take on a larger alliance?

Brevin shook the thought form his head. No use worrying about that until they actually found someone else. Right now, all they had was a pair of girls with hammers. They could wait. They would have to wait.

Just a little longer.

Jarlan DuMorne, 18
District Four

Just a little longer.

Jarlan drummed his fingers on the wall of the hovercraft. Just a little longer. He could wait a little longer for the others to come back. With any luck, they had found a tribute or two, and that was why they had taken so long to return. With any luck, they had a kill or two under their belts by now.

And, with any luck, that would satisfy them for a while.

"They'll be back soon," Delvin nodded reassuringly. "They're Careers. They can take care of themselves."

Jarlan shook his head. "One of them is a Career. The other two … I should have gone, instead." Maybe they weren't ready. Maybe he had been wrong about them. Maybe they turned on Imalia and… No. No, he couldn't start thinking like that. And he certainly couldn't let the audience hear it. District Four had already lost two tributes on the first day. They couldn't lose any more. Not yet.

Not when he could have stopped it.

Jarlan wandered outside, hoping for some sign of the others. He had stayed – at least in part – out of a desire to stay somewhere warm and dry, somewhere it would be safe. He wouldn't make the same mistake again. Next time, he would go with them. Next time, he would be the one to suggest going.

Assuming there was a next time.

Then he saw them. Three figures, heading towards the hovercraft along the beach. Jarlan breathed a sigh of relief as they drew closer. Imalia was in the lead, carrying something that looked almost like a crowbar. Indira followed, carrying some sort of sack over her shoulder. Last came Shale, a knife in his hand. Jarlan smiled as they approached. He had been right all along – they had only taken so long because they had found something. Someone.

There had been no need to worry at all.

"Still in one piece?" Imalia called as they approached the hovercraft.

Jarlan nodded. "And you? Looks like you've got quite a bit to show for your trouble."

Imalia held up her crowbar. "The sponsors were feeling generous today."

Jarlan cocked an eyebrow. "All this was from sponsors?"

"Just the crowbar. The rest we found in a cabin – along with two of the tributes from Eleven."

Eleven. Jarlan glanced at Shale, but his expression was blank. Unreadable. "I take it they're dead?" Jarlan asked, unsure how else to word the question.

Imalia nodded crisply. "Hence the sponsors. How about you? Any trouble?"

Jarlan hesitated. He'd been debating how to tell the others about Delvin. He'd made the right choice – that much he was sure of – but would they see it that way? He'd wanted to wait for the right moment to tell them, but there was no avoiding it now. Jarlan smiled a little.

"Come and see."

Imalia Grenier, 17
District Four

"Come and see."

Imalia relaxed a little as Jarlan led them inside the hovercraft. When he hadn't wanted to come hunting, she had almost started to worry that maybe he didn't have it in him. That maybe he didn't want to kill. That maybe he had never wanted to kill, and was here – in the Games – for a completely different reason. But if someone had attacked the cornucopia, and he had successfully defended it, that had to count for something, right?

Her mood was shattered, however, as soon as they stepped inside the hovercraft. She had expected a body, some blood – at least some sign of a struggle. Instead, there stood one of the boys from District Six – alive and well. Jarlan smiled. "Imalia, this is Delvin. He's with us now. Delvin, this is Imalia, Indira, and Shale."

Immediately, Indira stepped forward to shake the boy's hand, and Shale gave him a welcoming clap on the back. Imalia simply watched, not sure who to be angry at – Delvin, for being alive; Jarlan, for not killing him; or Indira and Shale, for not questioning Jarlan's decision for a moment. It was almost the end of the second day of the Games. She had killed two tributes already. And what had Jarlan done? They were supposed to be eliminating the other tributes, not recruiting them.

Unless this was what he had wanted all along. What if Jarlan had managed to fool them – her, the mentors, the trainers – this entire time? What if he was a rebel? What if this was all part of his plan?

If it was, she couldn't afford to get caught up in it. But she also couldn't afford to start a fight. Not now. Not when Indira, Shale, and obviously Delvin would side with Jarlan. She had to play her cards right if she wanted to turn this into a fight she could win.

So she held out her hand. Delvin shook it. The alliance was solidified – for now. Imalia turned to Jarlan, forcing a smile. "The cabin we found – I think we should go back there."

Jarlan cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"It's farther inland. Closer to where the other tributes will be. Besides, there's nothing here – unless Delvin managed to find anything you didn't."

Delvin shook his head. "It's bare. Even the cockpit – completely cleaned out."

"Then there's no reason to stay," Imalia shrugged. "We head for the cabin, use that as a base, and strike out again at sunrise. What do you say?"

Jarlan clenched his jaw – ever so slightly, but she caught it. He wanted to argue. To object. To ask who had appointed her the leader. But maybe the title was hers now. She had led the last expedition. She was the only one in the group who had killed. Maybe that was enough to tip the balance in her favor.

Besides, there was no real argument to be made. No reason he could give for why they should stay. So, at last, he nodded. "Sounds good to me. Let's go."

He was the first one out of the hovercraft, taking the lead. Perhaps trying to regain his position. But they both knew better. Until he proved himself – until he killed – her opinion would carry more weight. If not with the others, then at least with the Capitol. With the sponsors. And she could use that.

She just had to be patient.

Liana Kinney, 18
District Five

She was tired of being patient.

Liana shook her head as the five of them trudged through the woods. Two days. Almost two full days, and nothing to show for it. Nothing except Septimus' kill during the bloodbath. Well, that and the berries and nuts they'd managed to collect. But still no weapons. Still no more kills.

And the cannons kept sounding.

Thirteen so far. And their group – one of the largest in the arena – was responsible for only one. They had to do something soon. But how were they supposed to kill tributes if they couldn't find any of them?

Be patient, Harakuise had said, before the Games. Be patient, Septimus had said, more times than she wanted to count. But she was tired of being patient. She was tired of waiting. She was tired of trekking through the jungle and finding nothing.

She wanted to do something.

"What's that?"

Liana looked up. Audra had stopped, and was pointing at something. Something nestled along the side of a cliff up ahead, caught in the branches of a few trees. It was large and yellow, and, as they got closer, they could see it was some sort of plane. "Looks like it crashed," Thane offered.

Septimus shook his head. "It would appear so, yes, but the Gamemakers obviously placed it there for a reason."

"For us to find?" Liana asked.

Septimus shrugged. "For someone to find, yes. It probably wasn't meant for us specifically – we just happened to be the lucky group. Maybe there's something useful inside. Someone should go up and find out." Liana was about to volunteer, but Septimus turned to Audra. "You up for a climb?"

Audra glanced up at the plane. "Me?"

Septimus nodded. "You're the one who found it. The job's yours if you want it."

"You want me to go up there … and go inside?"

"If it looks like it'll hold your weight," Septimus nodded. "If not, just give us a shout, we'll get out of the way, and you can give it a push. Hopefully, whatever's inside will remain relatively intact when it comes down."

"I…" Audra hesitated.

Liana rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, it's not like he's asking you to kill your district partner or anything."

That hit the right nerve. Audra had been unable to kill her district partner. Maybe the boy had gotten lucky, or maybe she had been too afraid. Either way, the failure was too recent not to affect her judgment. She couldn't afford to fail again – not when the task was this simple. Audra nodded.

"All right. I'll do it."

Audra Trevaille, 18
District Seven

"All right. I'll do it."

Audra regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. But she couldn't back out now. Not again. She had already backed out of killing Domingo. Septimus wasn't asking her to kill anyone this time. He was just asking her to climb up to a plane and knock it down for them.

How hard could that be?

Trying not to look as nervous as she felt, Audra knelt down and unlaced her boots. They were full of water, anyway, and the soles didn't have a very good grip. Maybe Domingo had the right idea all along. As she stood up, Sariya gave her a clap on the back. "You've got this."

She wished she was as sure. The cliff looked a lot steeper up close. Vines and tree roots lined the slope, but would that be enough for her to keep her footing? Audra shook the thought from her head. She couldn't afford to second guess herself. She couldn't afford to look weak.

Not again.

Slowly, she started to climb. She found one handhold, then another. The rain made the vines and the rocks slippery, but, for the first time, she was glad it had rained for the past two days. She was almost used to it by now. Soon, the yellow plane was within reach.

Still, she gripped the vine she was holding. Would the plane hold her weight? It certainly didn't look like it would. It was small – small enough for one or two people, perhaps. There didn't seem to be anything important inside. It would probably be safer just to knock it down…

But could she afford to play it safe? Would the audience be content simply watching her knock a plane off a cliff? Or would they want her to venture inside? Audra inched closer. She could at least try. Maybe there was something useful inside. And, if there was, did she want to risk breaking it?

But did she want to risk her life?

Audra clenched her fists tightly around the vines. There was no choice. Not really. She wasn't about to risk her life for something that might be inside the plane. "Look out!" she called. "Plane coming down!" The others scurried out of the way, and Audra inched closer to the plane. Closer. Closer.

Clinging tightly to the vine in one hand, she gave the plane a push with the other. It wouldn't budge. Audra hesitated a moment, then climbed higher. Above the plane. Using one of the vines, she lowered herself down. Down. Still gripping the vine tightly, she quickly shifted all her weight onto the tail of the plane.

That was enough. As she held onto the vine, the plane gave way beneath her. Audra quickly found her footing on the cliff again as the plane crashed to the ground. Smiling, she made her way down the cliff.

By the time she reached the bottom, the others were already searching the wreckage. "Find anything good?" Audra asked, trying not to sound winded. Trying to give the impression that the whole thing had been a breeze.

Septimus nodded. "As a matter of fact, yes." He produced a helmet from the wreckage – a helmet with a light, almost like a miner's helmet. Then another. Then a third. Then three more. Six in all. All seemed perfectly intact.

"Six," Audra realized. "So they were meant for us. Five for us, and one for—"

Septimus shook his head. "Delvin's gone. They probably chose six because there weren't any groups larger than that. There was no way they could have known it would be us."

Audra nodded. Of course not. The Gamemakers couldn't have known who would head inland and who would stay near the shore. Who would still have a full group by the time someone found the plane and who would be on their own. Still, it was a bit unnerving.

But no one else seemed bothered. They simply strapped on their helmets and turned on the lights, the five of them illuminating the jungle in the twilight. Audra smiled a little. If this had been planned by the Gamemakers, that could only mean one thing: they were showing them favor. If the Gamemakers were going to choose sides, at least they had chosen to support their group, not someone else's.

But it still didn't seem fair.

Inviticus Cassiano, 18
District One

It just wasn't fair.

Inviticus flung one of his screwdrivers against the rocks, retrieved it, and repeated the motion as they trudged on. Again. And again. It wasn't fair. He had assumed that once he finally got the others to agree to leave the hovercraft, it would be relatively easy to find tributes. Usually, there were at least a few tributes who stayed close to the cornucopia in the hopes of snagging some supplies when the Career inevitably left.

But there were no supplies. There was no food. There had been no reason for any of the other tributes to stay near the cornucopia. After hours of walking along the beach, and then along the rocky shore, they had found nothing. Nothing but a few fish that Naella had managed to catch with her bare hands when they ventured into the shallows.

"It's getting dark," Jaime observed. "We should find some sort of shelter for the night."

Naella pointed. "Those rocks up there – let's get a closer look. If there are some sort of caves, we could rest there. And there might be a tribute or two," she added hopefully, casting a smile in his direction.

Inviticus glared back. She probably just wanted a place to rest for the night – just like Jaime. They probably didn't even want to find any tributes. They'd certainly been making enough noise as they went along to alert any tributes in the area. What if they didn't want to kill at all?

What if that was the plan?

No. No, that was silly. They had killed during the bloodbath, after all – or, at least, Jaime had. But only to protect him. If Auster hadn't come after him, she would have been perfectly content to stay hidden in the hovercraft without a kill to her name.

What if the two of them wanted it that way?

Inviticus gripped his screwdriver. If the rebels were trying to gain a foothold, the Career districts were a natural place to start. If they could sway the Careers, after all, they could sway anyone. What if Jaime and Naella…

No. No, Jade would have noticed. Someone at the training academy would have noticed if Jaime was a rebel.

But no one had noticed in District Four…

Stop it.

Inviticus gripped his screwdrivers as the three of them approached the rocks. There did seem to be some sort of cave. Inviticus crept closer, hoping. Hoping there would be a tribute or two.

But it was empty. Inviticus cursed loudly, his voice echoing off the walls. Jaime simply shrugged. "At least it'll be somewhere dry to stay for the night. Could be worse."

Inviticus scowled. "Oh, yes. Could be worse. We could have actually found someone."

Jaime glared right back. "We've been looking, all right? I haven't seen you find anyone."

Inviticus shook his head. "And you think that's an accident? You don't think there's a reason we haven't found anyone all day?" He smirked. "I know the truth. One of you is a rebel."

Jaime sighed wearily. "Inviticus, get some rest."

"No. No, we're going to settle this – right now," Inviticus insisted. "One of you is a rebel, and I know how to find out who."

Jaime rolled her eyes. "This ought to be good."

Inviticus crossed his arms. "It's simple, really. You two fight each other." He smiled.

"Then we'll know."

Jaime Gloire, 18
District One

She didn't know what had gotten into him.

Jaime watched Inviticus warily as Naella shook her head. Inviticus had always been a bit paranoid, but this was ridiculous. Why would either of them be working with the rebels? "We're not going to fight each other," Naella said firmly.

Inviticus' smile widened. "I knew it! It's not one of you – it's both of you! You're both traitors!" He fingered his screwdrivers. "And we all know what happens to traitors."

Jaime glanced at Naella, who nodded. In an instant, the pair of them charged. Roaring, Inviticus dove for Jaime first, assuming she still had her knife. But, even as he did, Jaime tossed the knife to Naella. Still hurling himself at Jaime, Inviticus didn't have time to react as the knife slashed across his thigh. Jaime ducked, avoiding the brunt of Inviticus' blows. The tip of one of the screwdrivers nicked her shoulder, but the rest of his weight simply sent him barreling forward towards the cave wall.

Before Inviticus could turn around, Naella flung the knife at his back. The throw was perfectly aimed, but, instead of piercing his skin, the pocketknife simply buckled, folding up again. Inviticus whirled around, snatching up the knife, this time charging at Naella. Naella ducked, but she couldn't dodge Inviticus' blows forever. Not without help.

Jaime didn't hesitate. Inviticus was her district partner, but he was trying to kill them. He was convinced one of them was a rebel. He had clearly lost it. He was more of a danger than an asset now. Without thinking, Jaime threw herself into the fray, catching Inviticus off-guard and managing to wrap an arm around his neck. Inviticus thrashed, hurling himself back against the wall of the cave, trying to shake her grip. But she held firm.

At the same time, Naella lunged, striking Inviticus' head with her wrench. Inviticus lashed back, the pocketknife slicing across Naella's arm, but Naella ducked, and Jaime squeezed harder. Inviticus gasped for air. Naella ducked below his blows and kicked him in the crotch. Once. Twice. Finally, he went down, and Naella snatched the knife from his grasp. As Jaime held on, Naella dragged the knife across her district partner's throat.

Blood. So much blood. She barely heard the cannon over the echo of the rain on the cave. Over the pounding of her own heart. For a moment, the two of them simply sat there, Inviticus' blood staining their clothes, trying to catch their breaths. "Nice work," Naella managed at last.

Jaime nodded. "You, too." They'd made a good team. Better than she and Inviticus had ever been. "Are you all right?"

Naella glanced at her arm. "Just a scratch. You."

"Just a few bruises," Jaime shrugged. In truth, her side ached where Inviticus had slammed her into the wall. But she would be fine by morning, she had no doubt. She'd dealt with her fair share of bruises and cuts at the academy. This was no different.

Except for the fact that Inviticus was dead, and their 'pack' was now down to two. Jaime sighed. Maybe they should have gone after Inviticus in the bloodbath, after all. At least then, Auster would still be alive. Assuming he wouldn't have gone crazy and accused them of being rebels.

Jaime shook her head. There was no way she could have known. No way any of them could have known just how far Inviticus' mind had slipped. Whatever thoughts had been brewing in his head throughout the day, he had kept them to himself. He had given no sign of his suspicions – not until attacking them.

Jaime glanced at Naella as they rolled Inviticus' body outside for the hovercraft to collect. Maybe it had been inevitable. Inviticus had always been a bit unstable. Maybe it had been bound to happen sooner or later. And, if so, maybe it was better that it had happened now, when the two of them could work together.

They made a good team.

Ivira Spielreyn, 16
District Eight

They made a good team.

Ivira smiled at Presley as the two of them crept onwards. They were still being followed. Closely. But the younger girl had shown no sign of fear – not since Ivira had explained her plan.

Her plan. It wasn't much of a plan, really. More of a hope. A hope that if they kept going, pretending to be following something, eventually they would actually find something. Either something interesting enough to distract their pursuers, or perhaps another tribute or two. A tribute – or even a group of tributes – who would present a more tempting target.

So far, however, they had found nothing. Uphill, downhill, and now uphill again. Surely their pursuers were growing tired. How long before they simply gave up – or decided that they might as well attack?

That question could very well determine how long they had left to live.

But if Presley was afraid, she didn't show it. She simply kept staring at the ground, following their imaginary trail. Pretending. Pretending they still had a chance.

Just as Ivira was beginning to wonder if maybe they should turn around and take their chances in a fair fight, the Capitol anthem filled the air. Ivira glanced up as the first face – the face of the boy from One – filled the sky. The girl from Three followed, and then the boy from Five. Ivira hid a smile. Two more Careers down.

The boy from Eight was next – their kill. But she didn't dare show any pride, in case their stalkers were watching her. Better for them to think she and Presley were helpless. Defenseless. Not a threat.

Calantha's face was next. Ivira felt Presley's hand grasp hers in a silent offer of condolence. Ivira nodded. Gadget and now Calantha gone. Domingo was still out there somewhere, but how long would he last without any of the others? No, it was better not to even think about them. Presley was her only real ally now.

The last two faces belonged to the girl and a boy from Eleven. Not a huge surprise, perhaps, but what was surprising was the lack of the third face. The three of them had been inseparable during training, but, apparently, one of them had managed to escape whatever fate had befallen the other two.

And that was it. Seven faces. Combined with the seven from the night before, that made fourteen. Fourteen dead. Thirty-two left.

Just as the light from the Capitol emblem was starting to fade from the sky, Presley pointed silently. And Ivira saw it. Lights. Some sort of lights in the valley below. A faint, gentle glow – almost like the lights of a house. Ivira smiled a little and squeezed Presley's hand as they continued down the slope.

Maybe they would get lucky, after all.

Jade Floren
District One Mentor

"There was nothing you could have done differently."

Jade wrapped an arm gently around his son's shoulders. But Jasper simply shook his head. "I thought he was the perfect choice. He always did so well in training."

Jade nodded. "Yes, he did. Sometimes the stress of the actual Games starts to affect tributes in ways you wouldn't expect. And there's no real way of knowing beforehand which tributes will be able to fight through it, and which will snap. Oh, we can do our best to prepare them mentally as well as physically, but when it comes down to it, it's up to them. Turns out, Inviticus just didn't have what it took. It was nothing you did or didn't do. Everything that happened, he did to himself."

Jasper nodded a little, but Jade could tell the message hadn't sunk in. "We should have been able to tell. We should have known."

Jade shrugged. "Maybe. What appeared to be loyalty and patriotism during training turned to paranoia in the Games. Maybe we should have seen that coming. But any trait a tribute may have can be dangerous when taken to an extreme. We can't make our decisions based on what might happen, how a tribute might act during the Games. We have to make our best judgments based on what we know at the time. We can't see the future. We're not all-powerful. We're just doing the best we can – same as them."

Jasper watched the screen silently for a moment. "Does it ever get easier?"

"Yes and no," Jade admitted. "Eventually, you learn to accept the fact that you're not in control. That there are some things you simply can't prevent, that you can't predict everything a tribute will do. But does that make it easier? No. Not really."

"So why do you keep doing it – after all these years. You and mother – why do you keep mentoring?"

Jade shrugged. "Because someone has to do it."

Jasper shook his head. "But the others could do it. In the other districts, the younger Victors mentor, and the older ones retire. Why not ask Felix or Scarlet or Amelia to mentor? Or me?"

Jade thought for a moment. "We've thought about it – we really have. But one thing always wins out, Jasper." He smiled a little. "Your mother was the first tribute I brought home. And that moment, Jasper – the moment she won, and the hovercraft picked her up, and I knew she was safe – that was one of the best moments of my life. All the late nights, all the worry, all the heartbreak – it's all worth it, for even one or two of those moments. I've had three of those moments – three lives I've saved. Your mother – she has two. And one of those lives was yours. I can only imagine how wonderful that felt, to be the one to bring her son home from the arena. Those moments, Jasper – that's why we keep mentoring. For the chance to have just one more of those moments. And, if you keep mentoring, eventually, you'll have yours."

But not this year, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. Inviticus had been Jasper's tribute. And he was gone. But to bring Jaime home – that would be a victory for them both. For all of District One.

But, for now, all they could do was wait.

"Crazy people don't know they're going crazy. They think they're getting saner."