.

In my life I got this far, now I'm ready for the last 'hurrah'!

Brux Redragon, District Seven

60.

Disgustedly, I pluck at the baby blue outfit in a vain attempt to try and look cooler, but to no avail. It's not going to work. And the fact that it looks splendid on Merritt's fit form is even more ego-shriveling.

50.

Perfectly calm, I glance at my surroundings. Aria Verselis next to me, in a similar, but pale-pink jumpsuit, is biting her nails and whipping her head around at the supplies scattered in front of her.

40.

On my other side is Soren Valen, who's scowling down at the pillowy pink mess underneath us that vaguely resembles a cloud. It's less fluffy than coarse, though.

30.

I squint and find two crossbow silhouettes hanging on hooks just inside the Cornucopia. Those are mine. One to use, one to stash away in case a backup weapon is needed.

20.

I survey the tributes that I can see. Cade Bennett's knees are knocking together, and his face is chalky. Staring at him is Juno, her red hair precariously knotted up onto her head.

10.

Kiera Brennan bursts into loud, sloppy tears, and the loud noise she's making echoes spookily across the darkened landscape. Kinton Machek - who happens to be her ally – is luckily placed directly next to her, and he quickly makes some soothing sounds to hush her up, but she won't stop.

5.

I crack my knuckles, prepared for whatever comes at me.

3.

2.

1.

I'm not afraid.

The gong rings, an eerie sound that makes everybody lurch forward. Jetting forward on my tiptoes, I run right into the Cornucopia, my stare locked in on the crossbows.

But when I arrive, one of the first besides Eidra and Merritt, I'm confused. They're not silver or even bronze or gold. They're… bubblegum pink.

"What is this?" I growl out.

Eidra glances back at me, her ponytail adorned with a perky pink ribbon. "I don't know," she says playfully, scooping up the first weapon she finds, a curved hunting knife. "Now, I gotta go, but we'll see each other soon!"

And with that, she darts off, hair swinging and feet pattering on the soft ground.

It's easy to find my first target; Cole Tenacity, the bulky guy from District Eleven. Looking ridiculous in his own baby blue outfit and trying to snatch up a sickly pink colored hatchet from the fluffy ground, he stumbles briefly, and that's his fatal mistake.

With the precision of a skilled archer and the courage of a lion, I aim the crossbow and strike him through the side. He gasps and clutches the wound, crimson blood slowly but surely tainting the side of his outfit.

"W-Why?" he pants raggedly.

I don't want to say anything too cocky, but I also want him to know that yes, I am a threat. I merely smirk, take a small sword off of the ground, and swing it hard enough that it connects with the side of his head, and that's when he truly falls. He hits the ground hard.

And then, instead of just lying as a cold body, something odd happens. The fluffy floor beneath him sucks him into the ground and he disappears fully.

I stare at the spot with a sinking feeling of dread.

"Well?" screams Carisa, whooshing by me with a glimmering pink axe in her hand. "What are you doing, just gawping at the ground? Start killing!"

"I-I did," I stammer out, still a little shall-shocked.

"No, you didn't, you idiot! There's no body!"

"The ground sucked him up!" I shout back at her, above the chanting background noise of 'Mummy, Mummy, M-M-M-M-Mummy'. "I slammed this sword into his head and the ground took him down under!"

Carisa, at a loss for words, glares at me and storms off to find a victim. She finds it in the slow-moving girl from Seven, her dark eyes wide and frightened and her hands clutching a small pink backpack. But she's frozen, rooted to the ground and watching chaos unfold around her.

That's when Carisa whacks her axe into her skull.

Aspen falls instantly, hands still frozen on the straps of the backpack and eyes slipping shut. The ground whooshes her underneath, but the backpack somehow stays above ground, stained with the fresh, sticky blood.

And I set my jaw, eyes steeled with determination. My cult taught me never to give up, not even when the going gets rough. And if that doesn't apply to here, then what else would it apply to?

Braxton Malory, District Nine

"G-Go!" I scream.

Griff's on the plate next to me when the gong rings, and even a couple seconds after the chaos has unfolded and tributes swarm into the Cornucopia to grab a weapon or supplies, Griff stands, tiredly observing everything with a tilt of his head.

"What?"

I run towards him, easily scooping up his tiny body with my arms and charging to Cade, who's darting quickly to the outskirts to hide. His eyes are warm when I reach him.

"I'm going to go and get some supplies," I pant, forking the squirming Griff over. "You… you monitor him…"

"Got it," Cade says, awfully cheerily for a guy who's just been shoved into an arena. But it doesn't matter, I can reflect on his sudden optimism later, when hopefully we've all made it out alive.

Pumping my arms and careering full force into the flurry of writhing bodies but surprisingly no bloodshed quite yet, I lock my eyes in on the prize- a small, yet promising looking pink messenger bag. And right next to it, an impressive looking pair of knives. It may not be as good as the quarterstaffs I've trained with, but those are mine, since nobody's paying much attention to the smaller things on the outskirts. They're all caught up with nabbing a sleeping bag or crate of food from the Cornucopia.

Ducking under the punches being thrown by Halcyon Chae and Kinton Machek, both pairs of eyes filled with fear and impulse, I swoop down and scoop up the bag easily. Swinging it onto my back, I reach down for the knife set when all of a sudden-

"Braxton! Braxton! Help!"

My heart flutters and, forgetting the knives, I dash to the outskirts without another thought.

There, quickly being chased after, are my allies. And the one chasing them? The impassive blond Career, Merritt Cordeau. His eyes stare deadly at them as his mouth contorts into unnatural positions, a pike gripped tightly in his right hand.

Cade's the one to spot me first, and his eyes go wide with acknowledgement. "B-Braxton!" he cries out, flinging himself at me.

Griff, on the other hand, completely ignores Cade and the fact that we might be able to take Merritt down all together. He merely whooshes past us, high-tailing it… right back into the chaos known as the bloodbath. And Merritt is quick to pursue him.

I smack my forehead.

But I'm still rooting for him. I watch as Griff zooms here, there, past a couple plates and looping around various tributes- I'm noticing how tired Merritt is getting, his pace slowing and chest rising and lowering faster and faster – right past the scene of a bloody Aspen Northwood sinking into the ground, Carisa Lenette standing over her with a weary expression. He does a double take at the carnage, and that's his mistake.

He stops dead in his tracks to survey the scene, and Merritt's pike skewers him through the belly.

Cade gasps from beside me, his eyes popping out of their sockets crazily, and I tug his arm, my own stomach churning. "Come on," I choke out. "We can't stop for him, he's dead."

But Cade doesn't seem to believe it, not even when Griff collapses into a little heap and the ground swallows him up in a slurp. "He can't be gone," Cade says, his voice quivering with emotion. "He's Griff!"

"Yes, and Griff is dead," I repeat, biting my lip so I can taste blood. "Come on, Cade, we have to go before the same thing happens to us!"

But Cade's not fast enough. His knees knock together, and all of a sudden, he's in a pile on the soft pink ground, his eyes staring with unwavering concentration at the spot where Griff just was.

It looks like I'll have to be the man here.

I scoop Cade's body up from the ground – no easy task, considering he's a lot bigger than Griff was, and plus, he's probably about the same weight as me – and, with his hands gripped tightly in mine, I begin to drag him away.

But luck is not kind to us, and just as I think we're getting away from all the commotion, there's Merritt Cordeau again, popping back for another big hello.

There's not even a fight. Cade's eyes widen much more, if that's even possible, and Merritt's pike enters him cleanly in the ribs.

His voice echoes in my ears, a youthful scream that I'll never be able to forget.

His hands slip from my grip, sinking into the ground with force and intensity. I shriek out, dropping the limp body weakly, and watching the ground suck him in like he's a delicious snack and not some boy who, just ten seconds ago, was a living body, breathing and thinking and petrified with fear over his fallen friend.

Merritt's cold eyes find mine. He raises his pike.

"N-No!" I scream, my foot jetting out and connecting with his knee. He certainly wasn't expecting that, nor the force that came with it, and he quickly collapses onto the ground, clutching his leg. Without thinking I batter him with another kick, this one right onto his shin, which provokes a wounded snarl, and without another action I'm off, half-running and half-crying, not even caring where I end up.

I failed them.

Maya Verone, District Five

"Maysa, we can't go in!"

Maysa tumbles over her own feet, brown eyes wide with nervousness. "We haven't found Ezra yet," she babbles nervously, and then I know it's just an excuse. She really couldn't give two waves for Ezra, she's never liked him.

"But look at the pandemonium!" I insist, gesturing to the mayhem that's erupted not two minutes ago. I watch as poor little Griff from Three gets skewered through the gut. "See, that's three tributes down now, from my count!"

"But we have no supplies!" Maysa argues, showing me her empty hands. Her eyes stare longingly at a small satchel, just under the clumsy feet of Shael, who falls into the arms of her littler ally. "Come on, Maya, it'll work itself out in the long run, and it'll be worth it besides!"

"But-"

"You know what?" Quickly abandoning her beggar façade, Maysa glares at me and puffs out her chest. "I'll go in, since obviously you've proved yourself a coward!"

"No, Maysa–"

Before I can have another word, she's slinking past minor fistfights and scooping up a little blue case, and then the satchel she had been eyeing up. Her legs furiously running inside the tight pink outfit, she returns to me with a haughty glare.

"Thought you couldn't do it?"

I stare at the two bags gratefully. From the look of the blue case and sound from the interior, there's some sort of metal contained inside, maybe knives or arrowheads? "You know, I'm really proud of you right now."

"Let's just go find Ezra," growls Maysa, throwing the satchel over her shoulder and whipping her head around, scouting the area. With a wince we both watch the boy from Ten get sliced open, and we both turn our heads away, the same way.

Our eyes land on Ezra, who's quickly retreating under the watchful stares of Eidra and Brux, both tributes closing in on him rapidly.

"Come on, Maysa, we have to go!" I choke out, my body acting before my mind can. My arms pump, my legs work, and my hair flies freely in the wind, trailing behind me and probably getting stuck in Maysa's perfectly done teeth.

Brux and Eidra look up as we arrive. Brux's face splits into a sickly smile when he realizes we're weaponless, while Eidra offers an arrogant grin. "Look who's joined the party," she says, though not rudely.

I jab a thumb at the cowering Ezra. "Let him go," I snarl, overtaken with passion and loyalty towards my ally.

"Why should we?" Brux spits out, pointing his crossbow towards lanky Ezra, who yelps in fear.

I smile coolly, retreating behind Maysa slightly. I don't think that the two Careers notice, as their gazes bounce from Ezra to Maysa, not keeping the shorter, less impressive girl in mind, even though I did score a rather high score in training.

I slip my hand inside the small blue case and wince slightly when I cut my finger. But they're there. This is the case that has my knives. Sheer luck has helped me.

I withdraw two of them, one for each hand, and slide the case inside of Maysa's satchel. Now Eidra and Brux notice me, their eyes piercing and unwavering.

"What did you just do?" Eidra barks.

I smile, showing her my knives without fear. "Give up Ezra," I say calmly. "I don't want to have to battle you guys."

Brux rolls his eyes and scoffs slightly. "You think you can take us?" he mocks me. "I don't mean to be a downer, Five, but this kid? He's our kill."

I strike.

Shooting forward with the courage of a soldier, I charge at Brux, considering the fact that he can't very well shoot his crossbow at a close range. His eyes widen, his mouth opens in shock, and he slams the side of the pink crossbow into my hip. I gasp, clutching my waist and glaring.

"Maysa, get Ezra!" I scream out. "Go! Go!"

She replies with a wounded, strangled cry and instead of helping Ezra, she charges over by me, hands trembling.

Brux scowls, striking again, once again on my hip. His eyes are wary of my knives, which I grip uselessly, weakened by his blows. I'm definitely gonna have a bruise.

In all the confusion, Ezra tries to get up, but I've forgotten about the silent, slinking Eidra, and I watch in pain and agony as she strikes forth with her spear.

It enters him cleanly, and without a word, he gasps and tumbles down.

Maysa and I find this as an opportune time to escape with the pack bouncing on her back and tears streaking down my cheeks, making salty contrails.

Carisa Lennette, District One

I watch as Eidra and Brux double-team the guy from Five, with a simmering anger that really can't be quelled. Why does he get to fight with her?

But then my gaze falls on somebody else, and I can't help but smile.

Halcyon Chae.

"Where's Soren now?" I shout in an airy tone, not really thinking as I charge towards him with my lance in hand. My previous axe was abandoned- it really was too heavy and clunky. "Did he abandon you, Halcyon? Did he leave you?"

Halcyon notices me, his face registering total shock. Kinton Machek, who was just dueling with him and has a nasty bloody nose, swipes a little pack from the ground and makes an opportune getaway to his blond ally on the outskirts, who holds a small knife. Together they flee.

But it's not them I'm worried about, even though I still hold a grudge against the girl for dissing me on the hovercraft. It's Soren and his ally. And if I can manage to take Halcyon out, who knows how insane Soren will be driven?

Halcyon stares at me. "He's not here," he stammers out.

I smile, raising my eyes to the heavens and throwing my hands up. "Of course not, why would he be? He's nothing but somebody who betrays others. You should have known that."

"I've never been too good at discovering the obvious," he says woefully.

I squint my eyes slightly, staring him down. "I have an idea," I say, a whole new plan taking course in my mind. It's not half bad, either. "Why don't you join us? You can get revenge on that slimeball, and plus, it'll guarantee you more time. We don't betray others, though I think that slime, Brux, has something up his sleeve."

"I don't know," Halcyon utters, wavering under the pressure. He takes a mournful glance behind him. "What if Soren comes back?"

I grin devilishly. "We double team him together. It's a win-win situation, obviously."

I ignore the mayhem around us, concentrating on Halcyon. If he doesn't say yes, he gets a lance through the gut, and if he does, well, the entire remainder of his life will be torture. For him, it's a lose-lose situation, actually. But he doesn't need to know that yet.

"Fine," he says finally, offering me a broken smile. "We join forces to take Soren down."

"Wonderful," I chirp, bending low to the ground and offering him a small knife. "Now, if you want to prove yourself as a true Career, go out and make somebody bleed."

"That seems sort of harsh, doesn't it?" Halcyon says.

"Not to us." I toss my hair back. "Everybody dies, it's life. Now come on, before everybody gets away!"

As if to prove my point, I grab the nearest tribute – little Aria Verselis – and hold her tightly. I expect her to submit. What I don't expect is for her – the girl who remained silent almost this entire time – to scream at the top of her lungs and bite my wrist, thus freeing herself and giving me a nasty bite mark that pierces my skin, a whitish tone creeping onto it. I clutch my arm, ignoring the lance that clatters to the ground, and examine it.

Halcyon, however, freaks out.

"Should I g-grab a first aid kit?" he stutters as his district partner speeds away in a flurry of limbs and thick black hair.

"I'll be fine," I grumble, gritting my teeth. "I just didn't expect the little devil to bite me…"

Halcyon smiles slightly. "She's a fighter," he says appreciatively. "She won't give up on anything."

"Apparently not," I growl, gesturing towards my wound. But I fight the pain, instead opting to pick up my lance and help out with taking out the stragglers. There are only a couple tributes that dare linger around the Cornucopia anymore.

"Yeah…"

"What are you waiting for?" I snap at him, but once I see the shock register on his face, I quickly contort my scowl into a smile. "I mean, come on. We've got to plan out a strategy to take Soren down, right?"

"Yeah…"

Kiera Brennan, District Eleven

I'm scared.

I don't know where to turn; it seems like the supplies scattered around the Cornucopia are getting fewer and fewer. The tributes, too. There's barely anybody hovering around the area anymore, not even around the outskirts.

Cayley Torelli pulls her littler ally, Aria, in for a hug as the two run off, giving the Careers the slip.

A couple of yards away, Ellika Mayes is picking through a small array of weapons arranged at the tail of the Cornucopia. She finds a satisfactory machete and even a bag of arrowheads, and with a self-satisfied smile, she slides her knapsack onto her shoulder and strides off with verve and ease.

And even Shael and Tethys, dueling with the tired-looking blond Career from Four, are able to kick him and evade easily.

And then it registers to me that I'm suddenly on my own.

My head whips around, my red braids slapping my chin. Where are Kinton and Haven? They told me that they would be here, waiting for me. Or did they say that they'd wait for me to come and visit them?

I shake my head in confusion. It doesn't matter, really, now that they've left me to fend for myself.

But I never thought, out of all of the tributes, that they'd be the ones to betray me. They seemed to kind.

Well, looks can be deceiving.

I sigh, pulling away from the Cornucopia easily. The Careers are arguing over the arrival of the sickly-looking boy from Six, a wide frown adorning his face. I swoop to the ground and pick up a small sword, its heaviness weighing my hand down, and exit quietly, leaving the angry Careers to communicate.

But where to go?

I opt for a friendly-looking area where the background noise – the chantings of "Daddy, Daddy, D-D-D-D-Daddy" – seem to be muted a bit more. It's a forest of sorts, but instead of trees, there are giant white poles with colorful discs on top, like lollipops. And when I dig the sword into the pole, it cuts away easily, revealing an interior like toughly woven cotton.

Yep, definitely lollipops.

I walk for a while, perhaps ten to fifteen minutes, until I find my way out of the forest, stepping over a pole that has seemingly cascaded to the ground, like a fallen tree trunk, and find myself in a little neighborhood. Sort of.

The houses are brown, the material grainy. They're conjoined together with a thick whitish glue stuff, like frosting. And when I dig my sword into the glue, withdrawing it, I find out that it's frosting all right… almost like the gingerbread houses that the more pretentious kids back in Eleven used to create.

Is that what this arena is, then? A candyland?

But as I glance towards the more unique houses, with spokes radiating off of the roof and more brightly colored candies adorning the buildings, it's obvious that there's not just candy here. Figures moving in the distance, too big and perfectly silhouetted to be tributes, alert me that we're not the only ones in here.

I swiftly move towards them, curiosity getting the best of me.

It takes a while to walk over to them, but when I'm within about thirty yards, one of them turns towards me, exiting a small gingerbread house. It's a doll, around six or seven feet tall with glistening black button eyes and a stitched red mouth, curved upwards in not a friendly smile but a sinister smirk.

And what freaks me out the most is the fact that it opens and closes, a horrid-sounding noise emitting from it.

"Mummy, Mummy, Mmmmummy," it chants in a high-pitched voice in time with the background voices.

I stare at it in horror as the other moving figures turn to see me. But these aren't all ragdolls like the first one was. There's a mixture. There's a couple dolls with skin like porcelain and cheeks rosy like raspberries, festooned with glassy eyes with fringed eyelashes and peaked eyebrows. There's dolls with half of their faces torn off at the seams, leaving cotton spilling out of odd places, and dolls with crayon markings etched into the fabric of their dresses and hair knotted into sorry-looking braids.

There have to be at least twenty.

I utter a small shriek, collecting my dignity and making a run for it, when the first ragdoll increases its volume of chanting, and the others join in. And then my ears are hurting with the intensity of the voices, and it reminds me so much of the hallucinations I've had back in District Eleven, and I'm somehow convinced that I can control these like I've controlled my past ones.

"Calm!" I shriek.

They gaze at me with their button eyes, glassy marble eyes, scribbled-on crayon eyes.

And then, there's a collective scream.

"Mummy!"

I'm frozen my knees giving out and making me tumble to the ground, suspended in fear as they swarm me, slowly and surely piling on top of me. It's harder and harder to breathe or even hear, and the sick candy scent that hangs in the air is overwhelming.

I pass out at the sound of some bone inside of me cracking, but not before I hear the final words of the dolls.

"Tribute, tribute, t-t-t-tribute!"

Tethys Acosta, District Eight

I smile as the cannons come- one, two, three, four, five, six. Echoing in the distance, beyond the high-pitched voices that squeal out "Daddy" and "Mummy" at sporadic times, the cannons are final.

"Six down," I mention cheerfully to Shael. "I'd say that we're well-off."

She nods and smiles a little, twisting her braid into a near-knot. "With supplies, too. We've got more than enough." She pats the bag that she carries with the blade of her dagger.

I grip my spear and smile. I couldn't find a blowgun, unfortunately, but a spear is just as good. It's versatile- you can conk somebody over the head with it, and the detachable arrowhead at the end is useful for sure.

"So, where should we head?"

We've just been walking through one of the many lollipop forests, this one consisting of no tributes so far, but the wispy pink cottonlike grass has been tickling our feet.

"I think we're good with just walking," Shael answers quietly. She glances behind her shoulder, something that she's been doing a lot since we evaded Merritt. "Maybe we'll find something."

"Right," I reply. "But should we at least find out what sort of supplies we have, maybe see if we need to get any water?"

"Sure," is her short response.

Eagerly I take a seat on one of the fallen lollipops, the slim white trunk – or lollipop stick, whatever it is – providing a slippery but usable seat. Shael hands me the bag and I open it with a wide smile.

Firstly, I pull out a small container, from which I can see contains dried fruit. I pop it open and place one in my mouth, savoring the taste of a tough apricot. I offer one to Shael, but she shakes her head.

After that, I find a thermos, but no water. "We'll have to look for a water source," I comment, setting it neatly on the ground next to the dried fruit. Shael is silent, untying her braid so that her silky hair can flow freely.

The next few items are relatively normal to what it usually contained inside of backpacks- a bag of bread rolls, a book of matches, and a little plastic container with a couple arrowheads bouncing around inside of it. I immediately grip it excitedly, comparing them to my spear, and find a perfect fit. Excellent!

"We're doing really well," I remark, slipping my hand inside the bag one more time to find only one more item. But it confuses me; it's a pacifier?

"Why would they have that in there?" Shael questions, taking it from me and rolling it around her hand. She brings it up to her nose and sniffs it. "It's nothing special, legitimately just a baby binky."

"Well, they wouldn't have put it in there for no reason." I take it back from her and slip it inside the bag. "Let's save it for later, anyways."

She nods, placing the other items back in the bag, but I notice she keeps her dagger out at her side, in a little belt loop that seems like it was meant to hold a weapon. "Yeah, let's."

"So who do you think died?" I try to make conversation as we start walking again, though this time I have the bag and the spear.

"I saw a couple people go down, like Cole Tenacity and Cade," says Shael quietly. Her head is bowed, and her hair forms a silky curtain around her face. I can't tell if she's hurting or merely offering a moment of silence for him.

"I'm sorry," I reply in a woeful tone. "He was your district partner. It's natural to feel sad."

"He was so little, though." Her head comes up and her eyes are misted over with tears. Her fingers lace together. "I should have tried something with him. We should have invited him into our alliance or done something, anything."

"He had an alliance," I soothe her gently. "He was happy with Griff and Braxton."

"I should have known that they wouldn't last," Shael says, ignoring me and mashing her face into the palms of her hands. "They were all too inexperienced and young. I should have tried something, Tethys."

And that's when I know just to back off, and to let her vent out her emotions. Because I know what it's like to be hurt, and I honor her opinions.

I can just hope that the guilt doesn't consume her.

A/N: Valley of the Dolls by Marina and the Diamonds.

24th- Cole Tenacity, District Eleven. A sword to the skull.

23rd- Aspen Northwood, District Seven. An axe to the skull.

22nd- Griff Forden, District Three. A pike to the abdomen.

21st- Cade Bennett, District Ten. A pike to the abdomen.

20th- Ezra Jefferson, District Five. A spear to the torso.

19th- Kiera Brennan, District Eleven. Killed by the dolls.

Gamemaker, Cole was great to have. Stoic and silent and strong in his beliefs, he was cool to write for. If only he wasn't a repeat.

Inky, with Aspen you gave me a tribute that in all honesty, I struggled to write for. She was difficult, a challenge. Mostly meek and humble, but with her more fiery sides, I found it hard to write her personality well. That, combined with the fact that she was too a repeat and realistically, she wouldn't have made it far, made my choice to kill her easier.

Clove, Griff was a cutie. I adored to write for him, though it got a little tricky to write about his thoughts on occasion. But that's alright. He was kind through and through, and intelligent too, and the only thing that most people had a bone to pick with was his sporadic train of thought. That being said, coupled with the fact that his body was tiny and his common sense wasn't too good, made him pass on.

Tyler, Cade was great! I can't describe to you how many times I bounced back and forth the idea of making him go further. It was hard, though, with his personality and the fact that he could have gone either way. A wild card, if you will. His sweet personality and the aura that just couldn't leave made him great. But in the end, I made my decisions and, well, he didn't make the cut. I'm so sorry.

Xymena, I loved Ezra. It was hilarious how quickly his moods shifted though he managed to keep them under control. He was a joy to write, with his insecurities and his quirks. His alliance would have picked him up, but when I shuffled the cards and tried to pick out a plot for him, well, that's where I fell a little short. May he rest in peace.

Mitch, nobody really understood Kiera. She managed to keep her demons hidden away, and yet, they came out at times. She was weird, I'll admit, and not your usual tribute that you write for. But she was fun. Fun, diverse, fresh, new, and interesting. But again, like Ezra, I just couldn't pick out a good, solid plot for her that wouldn't end badly.

And with that, we enter the arena! ;) Of course, it's not what you expected – cradle, playpen, daycare, all good guesses – but instead, a child's dreamland!

Imagine the arena as a jawbreaker, with the Cornucopia in the middle. For now, the tributes have only explored the candyland-like area of the arena. And you got a taste of the doll muttations. There is much yet to explore!

I think the song really ties it all together nicely, yeah. :)

Well, hope you guys enjoyed the bloodbath and I'd love it if you dropped a review…. But until the next update, adieu!

Questionnsssss.

1. Thoughts on each POV?

2. Thoughts on each of the deaths?

3. Predictions for next deaths?

4. General thoughts?