Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: Just a friendly reminder to vote in the Victor poll if you haven't already. Also, a reminder that my sister, MornieGalad Baggins, still has an open SYOT, so send some tributes her way.

Day Five
Given

Presley Winters
District Ten Mentor

It was too late for them to use her strategy.

Presley shook her head, her eyes fixed on the screen as Indira and Imalia stood perfectly still, watching the bear. There were only four options, as she could see it. The two of them could keep walking, hoping the bear wouldn't notice them. They could turn and run. They could attack. Or they could try to befriend the bear.

Presley smiled a little. The last option, she knew, wouldn't occur to most people. But she had spent the majority of her Games roaming the arena with a pair of lion mutts that had taken a liking to her on the first day. Everyone in District Ten knew that. Maybe it had even occurred to Indira as a possibility. Maybe that was why she was hesitating, why she hadn't run or attacked.

But it was too late in the Games for that.

In order for the audience to be interested enough for it to work, any sort of relationship between a tribute and a mutt had to be established early on. She had found Leon and Liana on the first day. Domingo had been relying on the black smoke mutt since it had first attacked India. What would happen if Indira tried to approach the bear and make friends now, Presley wasn't sure. But it probably wouldn't be good.

Because even when a tribute managed to get the mutts – and thus the audience – on their side, it didn't last forever. Leon and Liana had abandoned her before the finale. She had no doubt the black smoke would do the same to Domingo. And there had been other tributes – tributes who had grown too dependent on their ability to harness the mutts, and had been unable to fight their own battles when the time came.

Indira had already proven she could fight her own battles – both against mutts and against other tributes. She had nothing to gain by enlisting the help of a mutt now. So the only question now was whether it was better to ignore the mutt, to run from it, or to simply attack it before it had the chance to attack them.

Presley drummed her fingers on the table as Brennan handed her another drink. He'd been filling in for Eldred ever since the bartender had disappeared along with Harakuise and Nicodemus. "What do you think?" she asked quietly. "Run or fight?"

Brennan cocked an eyebrow. "Are you asking what I would do, what I think they should do, or what I think they're going to do?"

Presley hesitated. "All three, I suppose."

Brennan smiled a little. "I would have run by now, plain and simple. Probably not the smartest thing to do, but, if they run – especially if they run in separate directions – the bear will probably only catch one of them. They'd each have a fifty-fifty chance – better than they'd have trying to fight the bear. I would have taken that chance by now, especially if the other person had an injured leg."

Presley nodded. She'd heard Bierce and Kalypso saying something similar. But would either Indira or Imalia really be willing to leave the only ally they had left? She'd never faced that problem herself. Her only allies had been the pair of lions. She'd never had to worry about leaving her allies to die…

"Probably not what they're going to do, though," Brennan continued. "If they were going to run, they should have done it by now. Looks like their plan is to wait – hope another tribute or two shows up. Thane's getting closer. Adelia's nearby. If they wait long enough, they might not have to worry about the bear at all. It may just be there in case the tributes need a little … motivation."

That made sense, too. The bear had stopped Philus from running when Delvin had attacked Melody. Maybe it was serving the same purpose here: to discourage tributes from trying to run from a fight. But were Thane and Adelia really close enough for that to be the Gamemakers' reasoning?

"And what do you think they should do?"

Brennan shrugged. "Who knows. Whatever their instincts are telling them to do in the moment. It's easy to sit here and watch and think, Well, that's not the way I would do things. But we have no way of knowing that. In the moment, in the Games, with their lives on the line, their best bet is to trust whatever their gut is telling them to do.

"And we Victors should understand that better than anyone," Brennan pointed out. "None of us won by doing things the way everyone else said we should. No one told you to make friends with a couple of lions. No one told me to throw a boy's body out of a shuttle to surprise my last opponent during the finale. It's probably not something anyone else would have thought of, but, in the moment, it made sense."

Presley shook her head. "Trusting your instincts doesn't always turn out so well, though."

Brennan nodded a little. "Of course not. Nothing does. Nothing works out perfectly every time – or else tributes would have figured out the perfect strategy by now. But that perfect strategy doesn't exist. It depends on the tribute, the arena, their allies, the Gamemakers' mood. So many things. There's really no way to know if things are going to turn out right. All they can do is try to stay calm and make the best decision they can."

"Stay calm," Presley repeated. Right now, both Indira and Imalia seemed to have gotten that part right. The pair of them were trading glances, nodding at each other slightly, keeping the bear in their sights, speaking in hushed whispers. They seemed to have a plan.

Presley just wished she knew what that plan was.

Indira Serren, 18
District Ten

She didn't like Imalia's plan.

Indira took a few steps to her right, keeping an eye on the bear. Imalia's plan was relatively simple. They would each circle around until they were approaching the bear from different angles. They would slowly close in. Whichever one of them the bear went after, the other would attack from the side, targeting the bear's stomach while the other person targeted the bear's head.

It wasn't a terrible plan. But she would have felt a lot better about it if she had something with a bit more reach than her hand rake. Still, it was better than having no plan at all, and, in any case, there was a fifty-fifty chance the bear would go after Imalia, instead.

"Ready?" Imalia whispered, and Indira nodded a little. Not enough, hopefully, to attract the bear's attention. Indira took a step closer. Then another. Trying to remind herself that it wasn't really the bear's choice who it went after. The Gamemakers were almost certainly the ones making the decision.

She wasn't really sure whether that was better or worse.

Carefully, the pair took a step closer. Then another. The bear finally looked up a little. Eyeing them. Both of them were in front of the bear – Indira off to the right, Imalia off to the left. Indira swallowed hard. If the bear went after Imalia – as she was hoping it would – should she attack? Or should she simply run?

And was Imalia wondering the same thing?

If the bear went after her, could she really count on Imalia to stand and attack? Or would Imalia simply make a run for it while the bear took her down? Together, they might stand a chance of bringing down the bear. But if one of them ran…

There was no way she could kill the bear alone. But, by the same token, Imalia surely knew she didn't stand a chance against the bear – not without Indira's help. Whoever ran would probably be safe – and whoever was left would be dead. Or they could both stay and fight together.

But who would have to make the choice?

Indira glanced at Imalia as each of them took a step closer. Perfectly in time. The closer they got, the closer they would be to helping each other. That was the plan.

Indira took a step closer, her heart pounding. It was a stupid plan. Stupid. As soon as the bear charged, Imalia would run. Why would she risk her life when she could simply escape? For that matter, why was she risking her life when she could just run?

Just run.

In that split second, the decision was made. Indira immediately turned, racing off as fast as she could. But not fast enough. She could hear the bear behind her. Shit. She had assumed that, if she ran, the bear would go after Imalia, instead.

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. "Imalia!" Indira called as the bear swiped at her back, tearing through her clothes and grazing her skin. Just a little bit closer, and—

Indira turned in time to see the bear lunge. Another swipe knocked her to the ground. Indira did her best to roll out of the way as the bear raised its paw.

But then something struck the bear's head.

Imalia Grenier, 17
District Four

She struck the bear's head as hard as she could.

Imalia clutched her crowbar tightly and lunged again, this time hitting her mark perfectly, her crowbar digging deep into the bear's eye. Any normal predator would have backed off. Retreated. But this wasn't a predator. It was a mutt. It didn't care about protecting its own life.

And the Gamemakers didn't care if it died, as long as they provided a good show.

Of course, the Gamemakers didn't care if she died, either. Or if Indira died. Imalia leapt out of the way as the bear turned on her, blood pouring from its eye socket, its mouth wide. Imalia sidestepped as it lunged, tossing the crowbar in Indira's direction.

Indira sprang to her feet in time to catch the crowbar. Imalia dove out of the way as the bear lunged again, and Indira charged, whacking the bear's head as hard as she could with the crowbar. Imalia, meanwhile, had picked up the nearest branch she could find. As the bear turned on Indira, enraged, Imalia struck at its face with the branch, hoping to disorient it. But the bear wasn't deterred. Imalia watched helplessly as it lunged at Indira, who toppled backwards, desperately holding up Imalia's crowbar as the bear's weight came down on top of her.

Imalia rushed towards the bear, but its growling had quieted to a whimper as it lay atop Indira, blood pooling around it. But whether the blood was only the bear's or Indira's, as well, Imalia couldn't tell. There had been no cannon, but…

Just then, she heard something. A voice from underneath the bear. The bear's body moved a little. Imalia quickly pushed as hard as she could against the bear, and, slowly, Indira rolled out from underneath. Imalia grinned as she saw what had happened. Propelled by its own weight, the bear had impaled itself on the crowbar, allowing Indira just enough room not to be crushed.

Indira grinned, sitting up slowly, propped up against the bear. "We did it!"

Imalia couldn't help smiling as she collapsed, grinning, beside her ally. "You did it. You just killed a bear!" Indira chuckled a little, and, finally, the two of them burst out laughing, leaning back against the bear in a pool of its blood.

For a while, they sat there, grinning, laughing, simply glad to be alive. Alive. The thought brought Imalia back to the moment. They were still alive.

Both of them were still alive.

"It would have had me if you hadn't chased it when I ran," Indira pointed out, still a bit out of breath. "Why … why did you come after me? I ran. I was going to…"

"I know." I was going to leave you to die. That's what she had been about to say, Imalia was sure. "You did exactly what I expected you to," she lied. "You ran at just the right moment. Any sooner, and you might have been too far away for me to reach you in time. Any later, and the bear might have gotten to you before I got to the bear. You timed it perfectly."

"But you could have just left," Indira reasoned. "Why didn't you…?"

There was no answer to that. Not one she wanted to admit, anyway – to Indira or even to herself. That was too dangerous. Instead, she simply shrugged. "Think it through. I run, the bear finishes you off quickly – and then what? It comes after me, anyway, and, this time, I'm alone. I figured we had better odds if we fought it together … and I'd say I was right."

Indira nodded a little. "Thank you."

"It was nothing."

"It was brave."

Maybe. Maybe it had been brave. But 'brave' didn't win the Hunger Games. Brave wouldn't be enough to keep her alive if…

But before her thoughts got any farther, something caught her eye. Blood – and not the bear's. "Lean forward a little." Indira did, revealing a few cuts along her back. They weren't deep, but, if they weren't tended to…

"Let's get those cleaned up," Imalia offered, pulling some of the purple flowers out of her pocket. "I brought some of these along, in case…"

In case she had needed them. Imalia quickly pressed the leaves against Indira's wounds, silently chiding herself for making the same mistake Indira had made. Helping Indira now would mean she could put up more of a fight later, when…

But later didn't matter. Not now. Imalia carefully bandaged her friend's wounds, then leaned back against the bear's carcass, smiling. None of that mattered right now. Indira grinned, the bear's bloody fur warm against her back.

She couldn't stop laughing.

Adelia Luciano, 16
District Eight

She could still hear them laughing.

Adelia gritted her teeth as the laughter continued. It was coming from somewhere nearby. Part of her wanted to try to find them. Maybe to kill them, or maybe to ask them what the hell was so funny about a fight to the death that they hadn't stopped laughing for ten minutes straight.

And the worst part was, they reminded her of herself.

During training, she and Jediah had sat in the hallway, laughing until their sides were sore, until Carolina had come to ask if they were all right. We're fine. I think we're allies. But they hadn't been allies. They had never been just allies. They had been friends.

Adelia closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sound. The laughter. The happiness – joy, almost – that seemed to be echoing through the arena. In a way, it was worse than the cannons. Someone was laughing. Happy. Maybe more than one someone. Maybe allies. Friends.

Someone whose friends were still alive.

Slowly, Adelia forced herself to her feet. She couldn't just sit here. Not with another tribute – maybe more than one – so close by. If they were laughing, then maybe they were distracted. Maybe she would be able to sneak up on them. Maybe…

Adelia swayed a little, clutching her knife in her good hand, with Jediah and Nadine's knives tucked safely in her pocket. Not that she could use three knives – or even two – at once. But they had been helpful last time.

"One more time," she whispered, although she knew that was a lie. Even if her plan worked – even if she managed to kill whatever tributes were up ahead – it wouldn't be her last fight. But it was the only one she could worry about right now.

Everything else could wait.

One step. Then another. Closer and closer to the laughter that still hadn't died down. With any luck, whoever was up ahead wouldn't be able to hear her footsteps over the rain and their own laughter. With any luck, they wouldn't know what hit them until they were already dead.

With any luck…

Adelia gripped her knife tightly as she passed the mouth of a river, the water flowing swiftly downstream from some sort of cave in the side of the hill. So far, luck had been on her side. This was her chance. Her chance to show the sponsors that she could still put up a fight despite her injury. That she was still worth supporting. That she still had a chance.

Or maybe it was her chance to convince herself.

Slowly. Slowly. Finally, in the fading light, she could see them. Or, at least, she could see something. Something that looked like a giant pile of fur. And not one, but two tributes propped up against it, still laughing their hearts out. Adelia ducked low. She had been hoping for one tribute, not two, and she had been hoping they would be facing the other way. If they saw her…

Suddenly, the laughing stopped. One of them whispered something to the other. Pointed.

Pointed at her.

Adelia froze. Should she run? Attack? Try to stay still and hope they were pointing at something else? Could they really see her in this light?

Then one of them turned the light on her helmet on.

Damn it. Adelia took off running as fast as she could – downhill, back towards the river. Maybe they wouldn't want to follow her that way. Maybe if she got enough of a head start…

But then she could hear them behind her. Or, at least, something was behind her. Adelia whirled around, knife in hand, in time to see a crowbar swinging straight at her head.

She barely dodged in time.

Indira Serren, 18
District Ten

The girl barely dodged in time.

Indira swung Imalia's crowbar again, this time aiming a little higher as Imalia dove low. The girl was fast, but she couldn't avoid them both. The crowbar found only empty air once more, but Imalia wrapped her arms around the other girl's legs, dragging her to the ground.

The girl's knife flashed in the dark, swiping blindly here and there as she struggled to reach Imalia. Indira circled around, bringing the crowbar down hard. The girl managed to roll out of the way, but only barely. The crowbar smashed into her left arm, but the girl didn't even seem to notice. She just kept swinging.

But as she swung clumsily, Imalia reached up and caught the girl's wrist in her hand, twisting the girl's arm behind her back, holding her in place. The girl cried out in pain, but Indira didn't hesitate. She swung the crowbar as hard as she could, striking the girl's head with a terrible crack.

Almost immediately, the cannon sounded.

"Stupid," Imalia muttered. "Why would she come right up to us like that? There's no way she didn't know we were there."

"Maybe she didn't realize there were two of us," Indira offered, kneeling down by the girl's body. One of the girls from Eight. "We were being rather … loud. Maybe she thought we were a younger group of tributes."

Younger. For a moment, laughing with Imalia by the bear's body, she had almost felt younger. As if, for a moment, none of this had mattered – the Games, the killing, the quickly dwindling number of tributes. For a moment, it had all been gone.

And that scared her.

Was it that easy to forget? Indira looked down at the blood on her hands, surprised by how quickly she had forgotten. She had attacked the girl without even thinking twice. The third kill she and Imalia had made together.

Had killing simply become an instinct?

Maybe it was better that way. Better not to think too much about it. There would be time for thinking later. When she was back in District Ten. Then she could look back and feel sorry for the girl whose blood now coated the ground beside them. But not now. Not yet.

When. When she was back in District Ten. Indira knelt down beside Imalia, who was rummaging through the girl's pockets for supplies. "Three knives," Imalia nodded, producing two more in addition to the one in the girl's hand, as well as a hammer tucked inside another pocket. "Not bad." She held two of the knives to Indira, who handed her crowbar back.

"Not bad at all," Indira agreed.

And maybe it wasn't.

Domingo Ibanez, 14
District Seven

Maybe this wasn't quite as bad as he'd thought.

Domingo flinched as the sound of another cannon filled the air. Another tribute dead. Six of them left.

And he was still alive.

Smiling a little, he started to pick up the pace. His leg was beginning to feel a little better, now that he was actually moving. What rest he'd gotten had helped at least a bit. And another tribute was dead. Only five more to go.

Only five more until he could go home.

Until. Domingo smiled a little at the thought. He hadn't realized how much he missed District Seven. The trees. His friends. Even his parents and his older brother. Sure, they could be a pain now and then, but at least they meant well.

And at least they weren't trying to kill him.

Not that they had ever tried to kill anyone, of course. His parents, his brother – they would never even think of trying to kill someone else. And here he was, with three kills. Three tributes – three other people – who were dead because of him.

Domingo leaned a bit harder against the stick he was using as a crutch. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't asked to be in the Games. Any of them – his parents, his friends, even his brother – would be doing the same thing in his position.

But they weren't in his position.

Domingo shook his head. He had never really thought about it – about what the others might think if he came home. When he came home. But now that it was seeming more and more possible, he couldn't help but wonder. Would things – could things – ever go back to the way they were?

Maybe not. But the important thing was that he would still be alive. With six tributes left, he was still alive. Still fighting.

But it wasn't over yet.

The sudden sound of rushing water made Domingo stop short. He had been so lost in thought, he almost hadn't noticed the river. But now he could see it in the dim light. A rising river, blocking his path.

Great.

Domingo shifted his weight back to his uninjured leg. What was the point in leading him this way if he was just going to end up trapped by a river? He glanced around frantically for a moment, but he didn't see anyone. They hadn't led him into a trap – at least, not one that had been sprung yet.

So how was he supposed to get across?

Then he saw it – just a little farther downriver. A fallen tree, stretched out across the river. Domingo smiled. Perfect. The tree was thick and full of branches for him to grab.

It was almost too easy.

As quickly as he could, glancing around for any sort of trap, Domingo made his way across the makeshift bridge. Once he was safely on the other side, he let out a small chuckle. Maybe the Gamemakers really were trying to help him. Maybe he had managed to impress someone.

Or maybe there simply weren't any better options left.

Thane Hayer, 17
District Nine

There weren't any good options.

Thane crouched as low as he could against the side of the hill, trying to stay as still as possible, hoping the girls wouldn't notice him. Still hoping to avoid a fight. The fight hadn't turned out so well for the girl from Eight, after all, and now the two girls were even better armed than before.

Not that he would have tried to take them on, anyway. There were two of them. One of him. And, from the look of their helmets, they were the ones who had found the greenhouse, who had killed Sariya and Audra. One of them was limping a bit as they made their way back uphill, and the other's back was bandaged. But Thane wasn't fooled. He wasn't about to attack them if there was another option.

But the fact remained that there weren't very many other options. He could head back downhill, but the water was continuing to rise. At the rate it was going, it would be quite a while before the waters rose enough to pose a threat, but there was no guarantee that the water would continue to rise as slowly as it had been – especially if he started to turn back and go the other way.

Thane glanced at the compass in his hand, still pointing uphill – but not towards the girls. Instead, it was pointing off to his right. What was over there? Who was over there? There weren't very many tributes left, after all. Only six, in fact – and two of them were in front of him, heading back up the hill the way they had come. He was another. So there were three more.

How many of them was the compass pointing him towards?

Thane shook his head. If the compass wasn't leading him into a fight with the two girls, then there was probably only one up ahead. Only one tribute. That was a better option. And, after the faces appeared, he would have a better idea of who it might be.

He would just have to wait a little longer.

Thane watched as the two girls disappeared up the hill. Maybe waiting wasn't such a bad thing. He had waited, after all, when he had heard the pair of them laughing. He had been tempted to attack, as the girl had, while they had appeared to be distracted. But his patience had paid off. They hadn't noticed him. The other girl was dead.

And he was still alive.

That was the important thing, in the end. It didn't matter – not really – whether the two girls died now or whether they died later. It didn't matter whether he was the one to kill them. He only had one kill to his name, but that had been enough so far. Maybe he didn't need to do anything incredibly impressive. Maybe he just needed to keep doing what he had always done: survive.

Maybe that would be enough.

Myrah Lanhart, 14
District Nine

Maybe she had rested long enough.

Myrah leaned back against the stone wall, which, she was pretty sure, was starting to grow a bit wetter. Maybe the water on the other side was beginning to leak through. Or maybe it was simply her imagination. Either way, she couldn't stay here forever.

Just as she was beginning to get up, however, the Capitol anthem began. Myrah sank back to the ground again, watching as the first faces began to appear in the sky.

The first were a pair of Careers – the girls from One and Two. How many Careers did that leave? One or two, maybe. One of the boys from Four, at least – the one they had seen leaving the building when they had arrived. She was beginning to lose track. There had been so many of them to begin with…

Aleron's face was next. Myrah nodded a little. She had known, of course, that the cannon was his, but there was something important – a certain finality – about seeing his face in the sky. He hadn't found a way to escape this time. He was gone.

But so was Evander, whose face appeared next. Myrah swallowed hard, forcing back a lump in her throat. Maybe she wouldn't miss Aleron, but Evander had always been kind.

That was probably what had gotten him killed.

One of the boys from Four was next – the boy who had been at the stone building. Another Career gone. Was that all of them?

Adelia's face was next. Myrah stared, not quite believing it. Adelia. Aleron and Evander. Jediah and Nadine. Her whole alliance was gone. Five of them were dead.

And she was the one who was left.

Myrah shook her head as the last face appeared. Melody, her own district partner.

That left only her and Thane from her district. Only her from her alliance. Myrah shook her head, staring out into the darkness as the faces faded from the sky. Six tributes left. Only six.

And she was one of them.

Who would have expected that, when her name had been called at the reaping? For that matter, who would have expected that not one, but two of District Nine's tributes would be left in the final six?

Myrah fingered one of her knives carefully. Final eight. Final six. Final three. None of that really mattered. The only thing that mattered was the final one. There were six tributes left, yes, but only one of them could survive.

So, as much as she hated thinking it, maybe it was a good thing that the rest of her alliance was gone. Maybe Aleron had been right when he had suggested that she go with him not because she trusted him, but because she hadn't. Because he wasn't someone she would have laid down her life for. Because he was someone who, in the end, she had been willing to kill.

And maybe, when it came down to it, she would have been willing to kill Adelia and Evander. But part of her was grateful that she would never have to find out. They were gone. And she was still here.

She was still alive.

Philus Polaine, 13
District Eleven

He was still alive.

Philus shook his head. Part of him still couldn't believe it. If his count was right – and the faces in the sky confirmed that it was, unless he had lost track somewhere – then there were only six tributes left. Only six. Six tributes left, and he was still alive.

But that wasn't going to be enough.

Philus lay down, curled up against the nearest tree, where he had been sitting ever since Melody had died. Ever since he had killed her. How long had that been? It was all starting to blur together. Everything was getting a bit fuzzy.

Maybe it was the pain. Maybe it was the constant rain that was clouding everything. Or maybe it simply didn't matter anymore. Maybe it didn't matter how much time had passed – or how much time he had left.

Maybe it would be better if it just ended.

After all, there were worse ways to go. There were certainly better ways, of course. Being warm and dry and comfortable – that would be better. Having someone with him – that would be better.

Maybe he should have let Melody kill him. At least then, she would have a chance. And one of his allies having a chance was better than nothing.

Because nothing was what he had at the moment. No food. No supplies except two useless knives. And no strength left.

Philus closed his eyes. He could almost see them – Elani and Pan. Melody and Baylor. Even Shale. The older boy had never been an ally, maybe, but at least he had been a district partner.

But all of them were gone. And, soon, he would be joining them.

Maybe it was for the best.

How could he ever have lived with himself? Philus swallowed hard. In just the short time since he'd killed Melody, he already regretted it. Would he really have been able to live with that regret for the rest of his life? And what about the boy from Six? He and Melody had killed the older boy. The boy had killed Baylor. Baylor had killed … he had never been quite clear on who, exactly, Baylor had killed, but he was relatively sure the boy had killed someone.

Maybe none of them deserved to make it out alive.

He certainly didn't. He had abandoned two allies. Left a third to be killed by another tribute. Killed the last one himself. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it would be better if he simply fell asleep.

Maybe it would be better if he never woke up.

Domingo Ibanez, 14
District Seven

Maybe it would be better to stop for the night.

Domingo brushed another tree branch away from his face as he stumbled uphill in the dark. An occasional flash of lightning provided enough light to see by – but only for a split second. Only enough to see a few steps before the light was gone, and only the dark and the rain were left.

But, still, something urged him on. Maybe it was the sound of the river, so far behind him. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could swear he still heard it, slowly rising. If he stopped for the night, would it catch up to him? Right now, he was far enough ahead of the water. He didn't have to worry about it drowning him. But if he stopped…

Just a little farther.

Just a few more steps. Then a few more. One step after another. Slowly, he made his way up the hill.

Only then did he see the boy.

It was one of the younger tributes, curled up beneath a large tree. Asleep. Maybe even injured. Domingo crept a little closer. Then a little more. Still, the boy didn't seem to notice him. Silently, Domingo slid the knife out of his pocket. Could it really be that easy?

Maybe. Maybe that was why the Gamemakers had led him here. Why they had been so insistent that he continue in this direction. Why they had even provided a path across the river for him. How long had the boy simply been lying here? Maybe they had wanted someone to come along and finish him off.

So why was he hesitating?

Domingo gripped his knife tightly, taking another step closer. He was practically right on top of the other boy. This was too easy. There had to be a catch.

Didn't there?

Domingo clenched his teeth. Really? After fighting a Career, was he really fretting about the fact that this kill was going to be too easy?

Just get it over with.

Domingo knelt down next to the boy, knife in hand. Quietly, he reached over, positioned his knife over the younger boy's neck, and drew his knife across the boy's throat.

The cannon sounded before the boy even had a chance to wake up.

Domingo sat down beside the body, nodding. He wiped the blood off the knife, then sorted through the boy's pockets. He found a pair of knives – nothing else. A closer look at the body also revealed a few hastily-bandaged injuries, as well as a particularly nasty gash across the boy's face.

Maybe killing him had been the kindest thing to do.

Domingo shook the thought from his head. He didn't have to worry about that right now. He didn't have to worry about being kind. There were only five tributes left. None of them had the luxury of being kind to each other.

Not if they wanted to make it out alive.

Thane Hayer, 17
District Nine

He still had to make it past the two girls.

Thane crouched close to the ground as he made his way along the slope, keeping as far away from the top of the hill as he could. The two of them were still up there, after all – as long as the most recent cannon hadn't been one of theirs.

It probably hadn't. Neither of them had seemed particularly interested in killing the other. So the two of them were up there. He was heading away from them. And the compass was leading him towards … someone.

The options were a bit more limited now. The two girls, he had figured out, were from Four and Ten. How they had ended up working together, he wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure the girl from Four was the only Career left. Maybe they had simply found each other and decided not to fight, as he and Evander had. Maybe they were waiting for the right time.

The right time would have to be soon, though. There were only five tributes left. And his best hope was that they would realize that and turn on each other before they could come looking for him.

So who else was left? Myrah, he was pretty sure. That seemed strange – his youngest district partner was only fourteen, after all – but he didn't remember seeing her face in the sky. Did that mean she was the one the compass was leading him towards?

Maybe. There was a "9" on the back of the compass, after all. He had assumed that meant it had led Evander to him. But what if it was meant to lead him to Myrah?

Then what? Thane gripped his knife tightly as he made his way along the slope. Did the Gamemakers expect him to kill Myrah? Maybe. During their private training sessions with the Gamemakers, he and Sariya had easily defeated Melody and Myrah, after all. But the two younger girls had received almost as high a score as Sariya.

Did that mean Myrah had been holding something back?

Maybe. And, in any case, she was still alive. There were only five tributes left, and, somehow, she had made it this far. So it certainly wouldn't do to underestimate her.

But was there really another option? This late in the Games, could he risk another temporary alliance with anyone – even his own district partner? Maybe if he convinced her that they would have a better chance against the two girls together…

And maybe they would. After all, even if he managed to kill Myrah, he would still have to face the two of them … and whoever the fifth tribute was. Thane shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to remember who the last tribute would be. There had been so many of them…

Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe if he went after Myrah, the Gamemakers would drive the two girls towards the last tribute, and then he could take on whoever was left by himself.

But was that a fight he could expect to win?

One thing at a time. First, he had to keep moving. Whether he was going to attack her or attempt to ally with her, first he had to find Myrah – assuming she was, in fact, the one the Gamemakers were leading him towards.

Assuming they weren't leading him into a trap.

Lander Katzung
District Eight Mentor

She had walked right into a trap.

Lander sighed and set his drink down beside Carolina's. Another year gone, and now Adelia was dead. Maybe he should have known better than to get his hopes up. But Adelia had been so close…

"There was nothing we could have done." Carolina took his hand reassuringly. After so many years, the words came naturally to both of them. They were still true, but knowing there was nothing either of them could have done to prevent this – it didn't make it any easier.

Lander glanced over towards the other side of the bar, where Kit and Avery sat in a corner, talking softly. Talking. At least Kit was talking again. If nothing else, at least one good thing had come out of these wretched Games.

One good thing. One good thing didn't outweigh the thousands of bad things that had come from the Games. The forty-one lives that had already been ended this year. The four more tributes who would die before the Games were over. The six children from District Eight who would never be coming home.

Nothing would ever be able to make up for that.

Just then, something caught his eye. Something about the way Kit and Avery were talking. Something was off. There were tears in Kit's eyes, but that wasn't unusual. District Eight had just lost their last tribute, after all. No, it was Avery who was a little off. She didn't look particularly sad – just blank.

Lander quickly slid down out of his seat and turned to Carolina. "I'll be back in a little while. Keep an eye on Avery."

Carolina cocked an eyebrow. "Avery?"

Lander nodded. "Don't let her leave."

"But how should I—"

Lander shook his head. She would come up with something. She always did. "Just don't let her leave, Care."

"And where are you going?"

Lander glanced around. "I have a call to make."

Vester Pierce
District Two Mentor

It was past midnight when the phone rang.

Vester sighed. He hadn't been asleep, anyway. A bit drunk, maybe, but not nearly as drunk as when he'd been the one mentoring. But even now that others had taken over his duties as a mentor, he still had a hard time sleeping during the Games.

But who would be calling at this hour?

Vester reached for the phone. It took him a couple tries to find it, but he finally managed to answer. "Hello?" Maybe it was a prank. Occasionally, one of the trainees would call him up to ask him questions he had no intention of answering. But even they didn't usually call in the middle of the Games…

"Vester." He could already hear the relief in the voice on the other side. "Thank you for answering. I know it's—"

"Lander?" He couldn't quite be sure over the pounding in his ears, but there weren't too many options for who would be calling him during the Games. "Do you know what time it is?"

"I know. Believe me, I know. And I'm sorry – I really am – but I wouldn't be calling you if it wasn't important."

Vester sighed. His idea of 'important' and Lander's weren't always the same thing. But his voice sounded urgent. Desperate, almost. "So what is it?"

"I don't want to talk over the phone."

"Lander, if you're planning—"

"I'm not planning anything. I just don't want this getting out, and I don't know who besides the Capitol might be listening. Can you come?"

Can you come? "To the Capitol? Now? Right now?"

"Yes."

"Lander, what could you possibly need me to do in the Capitol that I can't do from here?"

There was a pause. "Something I once did for you."

It took Vester a moment to piece that together. But, finally, he sighed, got out of bed, and switched the lights on.

"I'll do what I can."

"I did not ask for the life that I was given. But it was given, nonetheless. And with it... I did my best."