"Jay."

I claw out of darkness, my eyes fluttering to the sound.

"Jay Tipper."

I roll over, groaning at this sudden noise. I feel a heavy weight on my chest as if I need to remember something important, but I push it away. Any moment now Yondrie will be here and I'll ask her about it then.

"I've said it once and I'll say it again, we need to kill 12 before it's too late."

I bolt up instantly, my mind returning to the situation at present. My hand is already at the handle of my dagger, ready for battle.

"Kill him? Are you crazy? The boy's gone mental from the Games. He actually looked like he was having fun back at the Cornucopia. I'd hate to see what he'd do to us."

I look around for the source of this voice which sounds a lot Shard but all I see are trees. I stand but I still see nothing.

"The poor boy's just trying to survive."

And then I stop because I definitely know which voice that is.

Killian.

But his voice isn't coming from the ground. In fact, it's coming from up in the trees.

"On the contrary, I admire him for the way he perseveres. If he gets pleasure out of it that's his own business to attend to. Though I dare say he has more of a conscience than any of you."

I look up to see a bird speaking with Killian's voice. But it is no bird. From the markings on its breast I know it's a jabberjay.

Now it all makes sense. The Gamemakers must have put jabberjays in the arena in order to confuse the tributes and bring in some more drama.

"Of course," I say, dropping back to the ground.

The bird cocks his head at me. "Of course," it repeats back, in an exact replica and tone of my voice.

An idea. One that my rebel ancestors would be proud of.

"Hmm," I say loudly, as if thinking deeply, "an alliance you say? Well, I'm sure it would have its advantages, especially in taking out the Careers. We would have to plan it carefully, though. And bring people from other districts into it. But it could work. Alright, you've got a deal," I can't help it, I smile to myself, "District 7."

The bird stares at me a moment longer as if still memorizing my words, and then without a sound it flies away.

Let the Careers figure that one out.

I decide it still might be a good idea to get up and start the day. Dawn, or at least a simulated dawn, is rising and I decide to check my wounds as they begin scab and itch, a sign that they are healing at least. I pull out a dried apple and eat, just for energy and only a little. I can survive on less.

Strangely enough, the arena being warm last night was not a trick of my mind – guess I'd be dead if it was. The arena really is warm, not hot, but a perfect temperature. I have no idea why. The snow is still here, as well as every other indicator that it should be cold.

I suppose I don't really care about the why. Warm is better than cold.

But that's about all the good news I have for the day. Unfortunately I now have no idea where I am and no idea how to get back to the Cornucopia if I need to. I try to make a map and look around for any familiar landmarks but that also seems to be useless.

Wherever I am, though, I can tell that there are others nearby. I see the rustling in the trees and people muttering in whispers. I mostly manage to stay out of their way but once or twice I do accidentally stumble on people fighting it out but I always manage to melt back into the trees.

Cannons go off throughout the day. A lot. And horribly, my first thought is always that the Gamemakers will now most likely leave me alone.

About midday I decide to rest, eat some more of my food, and re-evaluate where I am. All are pretty much failures. I'm constantly tired, I am totally lost, and I am going through my food far quicker than I ever anticipated.

That's when they attack.

I'm not sure what or who, but something solid smashes straight into the back of my head, the impact blacking me out momentarily and sending me reeling. I fall to the ground, desperately trying to regain any sort of balance.

My instincts kick in once more. I pull out my dagger and stab one of my attackers – there're two now I see – resulting in a yelp of pain from one who quickly falls to the ground.

I jump to my feet, trying to stave off the dizziness long enough to catch a better glimpse. The boy is clearly the one I stabbed since he now lies on the ground clutching his leg. The girl, holding a thick branch as a weapon – and what presumably hit me on the head – goes to attack me again.

But I have a better weapon, even without my throwing knifes. Within moments, I have tackled her and her throat slit, the cannon confirming my actions.

I stand and walk towards the boy who is already trying to scramble away from me, the thick honey light catching on his district number.

4. District 4.

And on the rest of the coat, in spidery silk, pictures of his district's exports, fish and pearls and seaweed. I catch a glimpse of the girl just as she's taken away by a hovercraft to confirm that she has a similar pattern on her shirt too.

Mags' district.

Danila. The blue-eyed boy with freckles. The one I felt sorry for all throughout the Reapings and training and interviews.

And now I'm killing him.

I drop my dagger to the ground.

"Go," I say.

He looks at me uncertainly.

"Get out of here before I change my mind!"

Even with his injured leg he gets to his feet as quickly as he can, the blood staining the snow as he limps away.

After a moment, I sheath my dagger and look up to the sky.

"I'm sorry, Mags," I say to the faceless void. "I didn't know."

It is only when I start to walk that I notice that my head hasn't stopped spinning, my brain feeling as if it is trying to squeeze out of my skull.

I sit down, trying to regain my balance but everything seems out of whack. Only slowly, very slowly, do I regain my strength and balance. My luck that no one attacks me now or else I'd be gone in an instant.

Or perhaps the Gamemakers like what they see.

I manage to start walking again only as night falls and the fallen tributes are being flashed onto the sky. First the girl from District 4, the one that I killed. Then the girl from District 8 followed by the boy from District 9 and the girl from District 10.

4 dead today. 9 dead overall. 15 left to go. All people I don't know. All people I will never know.

And another person to add to my kill list.

I wish Yondrie was here. Not that she was fighting as a tribute, of course, but I wish I could hear her voice one more time, even if she does hate me now. I feel like I'm already forgetting what she sounds like. Everything from District 12 seems so much like a wonderful dream that is slowly fading away in the morning light.

I decide to continue looking for the Cornucopia since so much of my time was wasted earlier. Well that and the arena has decided to go back to freezing cold now. Why can't the Gamemakers decide to freeze the arena during the day? Or is this some ploy to make us all sleep-deprived?

Probably.

My head still throbs with every step I take but at least I can think again and at least I am still alive. But I only get about half a mile. There I stop because I distinctly hear the soft sounds of someone crying.

It pierces me. After everything I've done, all the pain I've caused and people I've killed, maybe now I have the chance to do something right. I pull out my dagger in case this person is being attacked, following the sound until I reach a small clearing.

The boy looks up, his blues eyes locking with mine.

The boy from District 4.

Danila.

He breaks my gaze, looking at my dagger before returning to his blood soaked leg. He stops crying and tilts his head upwards, exposing his bare neck.

"Go on then," he says. "Do it. Get it over with already. I'm going to die anyways."

I should. That's what the calculated bloodlust inside me says. He is lamed and weak and nothing but a burden. But instead I sheath my dagger and pull off my backpack, unzipping it and pulling out its contents.

"I have bandages."

He looks at me warily. "Yeah. Because you're just going to give them to me. As I recall, you were the one who gave me this wound and killed my district partner."

I hang my head. "I know. I'm sorry. But to be fair, you gave me a pretty good bump that left me reeling for the rest of the day. Why did you try to attack me anyways?"

"We were just hungry!" he explodes in frustration. "We weren't even going to kill you, just wanted some of your food. We hadn't had anything to eat since the start of the Games and we saw you had food so…"

"There's a thing called asking, you know."

"Yeah, well, from what we've seen and heard, you don't exactly seem to be the asking type."

I sigh. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, and that's what they said to me right before they voted me as the male tribute for District 4."

"Well, let me show you then. Let me look at your leg."

He shakes his head quickly. I cross my arms.

"Are you afraid of me?"

He hesitates, his eyes searching me carefully. "Everyone here is afraid of you."

It's probably true but that doesn't mean it hurts.

"Look, I promise I won't hurt you. But if you want to get out of this arena please let me look at your leg."

He considers it for a long moment before finally complying, rolling his pant leg to just above the wound and I kneel to get a better look.

I take in a sharp breath. The wound isn't big but it's deep with blood oozing out. As long as we can stop the bleeding, though, the smooth edges should eventually close up.

"Wait here," I say, standing.

"Not like I can get up and run," he mutters and I can't help but smile.

I find the herbs that Yondrie uses for wounds like these nearby. I also find that making a poultice is rather easy though the boy still looks at me warily.

"Would you calm down? If I was going to kill you there'd be a lot easier ways than giving you poisoned plants."

"How does a boy from 12 know about plants?"

"It's our district's specialty, maybe even more than coal."

I finish with the poultice and start carefully winding it around his leg.

"Would you mind if you told me your name?" I ask.

"Why? What do you care?"

He's pretty mouthy for a small injured one.

"Well if we're going to be allies, I'd rather call you something other than your district number."

"Who says we're going to be allies?"

"I do. Because after bandaging your leg, you owe me. Plus I have the food you so desperately need."

I finish tying the bandage and take out some of the dried beef, throwing it to him. He looks at me for only a second before tearing into the food like some frenzied animal. I sit down beside him.

"Danila Seen," he says after swallowing.

"Jay Tipper," I say in reply. And then I shift uneasily because I don't know how to go about this. "You know, I saw your Reaping. I'm sorry about what happened."

He shrugs his shoulders. "My father lets the Peacekeepers do what they want, including whipping people they think harbor "rebellious thoughts" but haven't even done anything. I suppose I had it coming."

"How old are you?" I ask.

"Thirteen," he says and my anger inflames at the thought.

"That's not right," I say. "What your father does is not your fault."

He eyes me with disdain. "In case you haven't noticed, none of this is right. But here we are. I saw your Reaping. You seemed like a nice kid, until the Cornucopia Bloodbath."

"I'm only doing what I have to do to survive." I hope all of District 12 hears that. They most likely will. Unlike the Capitol where the Games are filmed mostly as a sporting event, the districts, along with the main feed, usually have two cameras always showing their two tributes, I suppose to further hammer in how helpless we are against the Capitol. Except for in extraordinary circumstances, it doesn't waver from that person and only goes to black once that person is dead. If they're awake right now, they have to have heard, because it is a truth in a way and I need them to know that. "Can I ask you something else, Danila?"

"Sure."

"Why weren't you with the rest of the Careers? 4 almost always joins the Careers, why not this time?"

"Well they certainly didn't want me, I'm too little and don't have that much to offer. Alyss, that was my district partner, she knew this and decided to stay with me."

I feel another pang of guilt now, learning this poor girl's name and knowing that she could've joined the Careers and instead decided to protect Danila.

The only thing I can do now is protect him myself.

"And besides, why would they want kids from 4 when they can have Killian, the savior of the world!" He waves his hands out when he says this, mimicking a Capitol citizen to an exact point although they'll never know they're being mocked.

I can't help but laugh. "You're a good kid, Danila." And he just smiles and it's so good just to have some humanity before everything goes back to death again. "Come on, it's freezing cold and it doesn't look like it's going to let up anytime soon. Let's start a fire. I'll kill anyone who dares to come near."

We get two days.

The first day is spent trying to figure out where we are. I explain how lost I am to Danila who just looks at me like I'm a complete idiot.

"Uh, ever heard of climbing a tree?"

"Oh," I say, feeling like that complete idiot. "Yeah, that makes sense. But you sure a tree can take my weight?"

"Well, you certainly don't weigh as much as the Careers. C'mon."

It turns out that a tree can, in fact, take my weight. We climb all the way until we can see the arena from all sides, like the Gamemakers and the Capitol and districts must see us.

It turns out that all this time I've only been a few miles from the Cornucopia which is currently being held by the Careers, tiny figures who stand guard and sleep. But most of the people it seems are over on the other side of the arena, the tropical side, what with the trees rustling movement which is so unlike yesterday when people were tramping all over this side.

Wait a second…

"Danila," I say so excited, I can barely get the words out, "I think I know why the temperature keeps changing. It's based on how many people are in a certain part of the arena. Wherever there are the most tributes, be it in the jungle or forest or perhaps even the Cornucopia, the temperature levels off there. But then there are all those people in close quarters, resulting in a higher chance of people fighting."

Clever.

Danila nods his head. "I think you're right, Jay!"

We climb down and I explain the mishap with the jabberjays and ask him if he's seen anything strange. He shakes his head.

We are freer with our time with this realization most people aren't near us. We talk about our districts and our friends and family. The Panem anthem plays. The girl from 5 is dead.

Another day of freedom.

"Well, that's the last of it," I say to Danila as we finish off the food the next morning.

He looks at me in terror. "The last? What happened to all of it? Did we eat it all already? Are we going to starve?"

His face looks so pitiful that it's almost hilarious. "Calm down, none of us are going to starve. I forgot to mention my greatest gift: I can trap."

"Trap?" His face seems confused. "You mean people can trap animals?"

It's all the more hilarious. "Of course. Look, I'll go right now."

I set up traps and pretty soon we're feasting far better than we ever did on the food from the Cornucopia and it's clear Danila's never had fresh-killed rabbit before because he's just sitting there smiling like an idiot.

"Can you teach me?"

"Course," I reply. "It's kind of tricky but I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."

He doesn't just 'get the hang of it', he seems born to make traps.

"We can make all sorts of knots back in 4," he says.

"Right, I forgot. When I showed Mags that I could make a trap, she was almost beside herself in joy."

"I guess it makes sense why we're friends then."

Friends. Not allies. Friends. I smile.

But although Danila can trap, he certainly is no killer. He flinches every time I slit their throats. I can't help but make fun of him.

"What, you can eat it well enough but the process of killing it makes you squeamish?"

He nods his head. "Especially after the Cornucopia," he whispers and he looks so haunted that I immediately feel guilty.

"There's nothing wrong with not being able to kill," I say, repeating my father from all those years ago.

He nods his head and then sighs. "I just wish we had a bow and some arrows."

That strikes me as a strange thing to say. "Why? I've never held a bow or arrows in my entire life."

"Maybe not," he says, "but I have. I could actually be of some use if Shard hadn't taken the only bow in the entire pile of weapons. Plus," he says, looking down and drawing his hands into tight little fists, "I think I could kill with it." He changes the topic real quick. "You know who Shard is, right?"

I nod my head. "Boy from 2. I didn't realize you could shoot with a bow and arrow. Why didn't you mention it sooner?"

"Didn't know if you were trustworthy yet." He eyes me. "But I trust you now."

"Well," I say, "let's hope either Shard decides to share or some sponsor really likes you."

"I haven't gotten anything from any sponsor."

"Me either," I say. "But that doesn't mean it won't happen. At least there is a bow and arrows in the arena. My weapon is throwing knives and they didn't even provide me with one."

"Well we're screwed."

"Yeah," I say. "Pretty much."

And for some reason just admitting it makes it hilarious and we can't help but laugh all the way back to our camp.

Two cannons go off that day and that night we watch again to see who they are.

The boy from District 7. And the girl from District 12.

The girl.

12.

Anna.

Danila watches my face but I say nothing, do nothing. In the end I suppose I don't really get the right to grieve. I barely knew her. But now she's dead and the fact that it's someone from my district and someone that I actually knew still digs deep within me, carving out a hollowness. She may not have always been nice but she smiled at me that one time before evaluations. She wasn't all bad. She didn't deserve to die like this.

"12 dead," Danila finally comments.

I nod my head but I feel like I'm a puppet being controlled by someone else. "12 to go. We made it halfway."

As the anthem finishes off we think that's all there is but then we hear the announcer loud and clear.

"Attention. Attention all tributes."

Danila and I look at each other. This can only mean one thing…

"Some of you may have noticed a lack of parachutes in so far. Rest assured that despite this, your sponsors have been quite generous with their gifts. But since you were chosen to be here, it has been decided that you must prove yourself in order to receive these gifts. A feast will be held tomorrow at dawn at the Cornucopia. Come and prove yourself or stay where you are and risk losing something which may very well save your life. That will be all and may the odds be ever in your favor."

My first thought is that of anger. Leave it to the Gamemakers to take the one thing we're allowed to have in the arena and make us fight for it. It's probably because the Bloodbath had so little victims, people must be saying how boring the Games are and so of course some more people have to die. If I could just have one day with those Gamemakers, one hour…

"Jay, this is fantastic!" Danila says. "Maybe they heard our conversation! Maybe there'll be a bow and arrows and throwing knives for you. Maybe there'll even be food!"

Danila's comment serves to further inflame me. We've actually been doing fine on food, thank you very much. But of course, a whiny little boy from 4 wouldn't know that, now would he? He's always had his belly filled and now that he has to starve just a teensy-weensy little bit, he's all in a tumble.

I have to remind myself that none of this is Danila's fault. I'm probably still in shock from Anna's death.

"We're going, right?" Danila asks.

My first thought is to say no. A feast, much less one with 12 tributes all vying for the same things, is going to be a nightmare – not to mention my penchant for killing. But then I think on those throwing knives.

Damn. I really need those throwing knives.

"We're going to check it out," I say like it's a saunter into the Hob. "But if things look really ugly or we don't see anything that takes our fancy, we are out of there."

Danila nods his head. "Fair enough to me."

"Good. Now let's get some sleep. I want us to be well-rested if we're going to have to fight tomorrow."

It's a flock of jabberjays that wakes me around midnight, cawing and screeching something that's only getting louder and louder with each passing second.

And then I bolt straight up because they're mimicking a girl's scream.

Anna's scream.

"JAY! HELP ME!"