Here's the next chapter! I hope y'all like where this is headed, because I definitely do!

Day five brings a flurry of snow and wind that causes the eleven remaining tributes to take shelter in any way they can. Wealthy mentors send warm clothing and food to their tributes while those non careers are lucky to receive a roll or patchwork quilt. The temperature reaches a new low for the arena. Teeth chatter, fires roar, and the forest sways with each gust of air. The storm is unrelenting and forces every competitor to focus their time and energy on battling the extreme cold. The buzz of yesterday's action starts to fade and, by the time the nightly death recap shows no new faces in the sky, both the citizens of the Capitol and the Gamemakers begin to grow bored.

As the sun sets, the darkness brings a whole new level of freezing weather. Sometime in the night, a cannon finally sounds over the bellow of the wind and snow: the boy from District 12 dies in his sleep. A hovercraft gently carries away his blue-tinged body and the agonizing storm continues its rampage.

After what feels like a century, the sun rises…

Elizabeth Skyfall (District 9)

I wake to a heavy crunching sound. I sit straight up while clutching the heavy stone that rested in my hand all night. The source of the sound becomes clear after a bleary-eyed moment: Draise sits crouched around the fire, ax in his right hand, a half eaten apple in his left. He doesn't react to my sudden movement, nor says anything about eating our last piece of food without so much as offering me some. Sensing my annoyance, he speaks to the fire.

"You got to sleep with the blanket." His blackened eyes penetrate the flame with a calm but firm gaze. It was true. I currently sat with the heavy covering while Draise must have huddled by our fire with nothing but an extra hoodie for warmth. We're situated in a mess of fallen logs. They lay around us on every side but one. Our sponsors supplied a baby-blue tarp and voilá! A snowy fort hidden by the blizzard and wood.

I grab the corner of the blanket and offer it to him, shivers immediately running up my legs in the freezing air. We switch places and he gives me the rest of the apple and -I notice a certain reluctance- the ax. Not once does he look at me. His bruised eyes examine everything in our shelter except for me. I stare at him expectantly and he shuts his heavy lids. I reach up to scratch my face as I look at my ally and a dull pain flares. My still broken nose stopped bleeding hours ago but continues to throb indignantly and painfully.

I swallow my last bit of fruit and look at the boy laying not feet from me. I watch the flutter of the eyelids that I hit with all of my might. The initial dark blue is now highlighted with a little green around the edges. Scrapes trace his forehead from the mutts we fought together. They draw attention to the premature wrinkles around and under his eyes etched on by excessive work in District 8 and worry. His chapped lips form a familiar, sour frown. With his thin, lanky frame and curly hair, he reminds me of some sort of small boy stretched six inches too tall.

I don't know if I like this moody tribute. I mean, as shameful as it is, I sincerely tried to kill him in the woods just a few days ago. I hadn't even attempted to talk to him. I'm sure that if the Gamemakers hadn't intervened, one of us would be dead. I mean, that's how it works, right? Despicable actions are justified in the arena, but I can't shake a nagging dread in my stomach. I think about this dread as Draise's breathing slows.

I have trouble figuring this feeling out. It flared up when I impulsively hugged him at the sight of two dead careers in the sky the night before last and hasn't left since. It isn't quite shame, but there was some of that mixed in. Throw in some confusion, just a twinge of embarrassment and some unease and you'll know exactly how my stomach feels. I think for a minute and the realization slaps me in the face; I'm sorry. I can't stop looking at the boy I attacked and hurt because I feel bad about it. This sort of thing isn't liked very much by the Capitol. Relish in the pain you cause! Laugh at the boys and girls that you break beneath your fists! That just isn't who I am though. I love fiercely and can't stand the thought of causing other people pain.

"Hey," I say, prodding him with a finger.

"What?" he doesn't open his eyes, but the word is sharp on his lips.

I don't know how to start. "About…about before... in the woods….I…"

He finally opens his eyes and looks at me. His voice comes out much softer this time. "I know," he says.

"Well, I-I just wanted to…I dunno…" I say lamely.

He smirks and lays his head back on the hard earth. "It's fine, 9," he says. "I get it."

I half sigh in relief and comb through my dark red hair to keep my hands busy. Draise's voice appears again.

"What's your story, anyways?" he asks.

"I don't have one," I respond quickly. Too quickly. I don't know why, but I don't want Draise to hear about my life. Maybe it's the sad fact that it's probably over already, or maybe it's the pitying look he would give me if I told him all about it, but I suddenly can't stand the thought of telling him all of the important things about me. My chest aches for my two brothers, Jay and Perceval. I even miss my mom and dad, something I normally don't waste time doing. In our final goodbyes they said all the right things…"We love you," "Don't give up," "You can win," but I couldn't really hear the meaning behind those words over the distance that lay between us for most of my life.

Draise doesn't push it, and for that, I'm grateful. He goes back to snoozing without another word. I lean my head against a log and listen to the wind whistle through the trees.

My hands don't leave the ax once.

Tell me, who is your favorite tribute? Also, an updated list of each tribute's odds of winning is up on my profile page! I honestly have not decided who is going to win yet, so show some love to your chosen tribute!