One year later and the story goes on! I hope to finish this by Christmas. As always, enjoy!

Rossella Vipond (District 1)

My perfectly kempt blonde hair dances in the wind the second I step out of the tent. I probably look so cute -minus the eye boogers from my rude awakening-. Morgan, Paroque, and Harkon's tracks lead hap hazzardly to my right and into the woods, but my allies are long gone. I search the tree line for a sign of them as a jog forward and see a slim, heart shaped face peer out from behind a trunk.

She looks petrified as a cry, "Hey!" I sprint forward as she disappears into the woods. Mine, I think in my signature sing song voice. By the time I've gotten to the tree line, the girl has maybe a minute's head start, but, like, I'm really fast so that probably doesn't even matter. I'm not really a tracker, but I see some messed up bushes so I guess she took off that way. I sprint along in that direction for a minute and hear a distant crack of a branch. I audibly laugh in triumph. This girl was so dead and I didn't even need anyone's help!

I slow to a near silent gait and pull my biggest knife from the holster on my thigh. The trees are packed in sort of tight and I don't want to lose any of my throwing knives in the cold snow. I mentally take notes so I can tell Morg every thrilling detail of my chase.

I hear another crack!, this one much closer, and I stop completely. I stand back-to-back to a tree and listen for the girl. There's some weird tearing sound and I hesitate. It's, like, super weird and I'm total confused for like half a second. I creep forward again, even more slowly. I pass a few dozen snow-touched trees and find the source of the tearing: a slate grey blanket torn open at the seams. I eye it and think that the girl must've, like, I don't know, been super dumb? If I'm being totally honest, I'm kind of just thinking about how ugly the color is.

"I'm gonna find you!" I call out to the world at large. "I swear, I'm gonna find you and tear your throat open!" I'm very impressed with the venom in my voice.

I've just thought of checking the ground for foot prints when a flash of metallic is pulled over my face and around my neck. I drop my weapon and claw at the thick wires cutting into my windpipe. I feel blood from a shallow but long cut across my throat. I try to bash my head against the tribute choking me but I'm already light headed. The jerking movement causes us both to slip onto the cold ground.

I try to scream a foul name at her but I can barely release a choking noise. Then I really freak out. I thrash out at the snow and try to grab another knife but the thin girl is incredibly resilient and manages to keep me from reaching anything. With one hand trying to loosen the wires, I reach back with my other and scrape the hell out of her face. The girl yells but does not slacken her grip.

I feel myself losing consciousness and even my panic-driven adrenalin starts to fade. I will Caero to appear brandishing an arrow, but he doesn't.

I try to give one last feeble call and then everything goes black.

Almost every Gamemaker is satisfied. Several action packed minutes ending with the demise of three tributes: that's what television is all about. Carl Rattegin sits at the control center quietly listening to the hum of chatter all around him. It was a shame that a district 1 and 2 tribute were killed, but the players that were left were undeniably entertaining. Everyone speaks of their favorites and what they think will happen next.

Now much later that night, and the boy from District 1 has managed to put several miles between himself and the wreckage at the cornucopia. Handsome and capable, he became an instant Capitol favorite with his destruction of the career camp. He eats a warm, sponsor-supplied meal.

Almost as impressive, the girl from district 3, now laden with quality supplies, rests beneath an oak tree with a savage first kill under her belt. She may have lost an ally, but she gained many admirers in the Capitol.

Unfortunately, the male from 4 and female from 2 have had their ratings slashed. They arrive back to what was formally their camp and discover their ally's treachery. They are able to scavenge some food, weapons and other useful items from the rubble. They will manage.

The rest of the remaining tributes are more or less in the same condition as before. As the anthem plays and the slain tributes are revealed, weaker player's spirits soar. The girl from District 9 even goes so far as to hug her ally from 8. He looks uncomfortable to say the least.

Everyone celebrates; except for Head Gamemaker Rattegin. He takes a sip of his now cold coffee. With such an action packed day, the expectations set for the Gamemakers are higher than ever. To keep the crowd entertained, drastic decisions will have to be made. This can only spell out one thing for his tributes: doom.

I don't know if anyone is still following this story, but that's okay! I'll hopefully have an update within the next few days. Review and sponsor!