A/N: Last update before I head out.
1. Do not accuse the Gamemakers of having it out for you, personally.
The mountain got steeper as she went down it. Kate wasn't sure how close she was to the edge, but there was swiftly coming a point where it wouldn't matter. There was only so steep an incline she could take.
The wall of fire that burst into existence a dozen yards down the slope neatly removed that approaching problem.
Even from here, Kate could feel the heat. She stared at it, stunned for a moment, before she began backing away.
The fire began to roar forwards.
Kate turned and ran.
Uphill. Worse, up a mountain, with smoke already gathering in threatening clouds.
So much for following Tony's example.
The Gamemakers hate me, she wanted to grumble, but she couldn't spare the breath. Sweat already covered her body. Tony's iron bracelet was the only cool point left.
Kate coughed out the poisonous air and kept running.
(There are better ways to spend your breath.)
2. Stay in the present.
Will shuffled through the snow, still stiff from cold. He didn't have any definite plans for a destination. He just wanted to get somewhere warmer.
Warmer. Like back home in the summer when they had all snuck away to the woods and it was so hot that they would tackle each other into the creek.
It wasn't until he saw the rabbits shoot past him, lightning quick and not at all shy, that he realized something was wrong. He dragged his head out of his memories of summer and turned around.
Fire crackled in the distance, eating up the wintry world. It was getting closer.
Also like what happened at home, sometimes, in the summer months when it was too dry.
The fire would be warm.
Will jerked his face away from the distant, mesmerizing flames and ran after the rabbits.
(Think of whatever keeps you going.)
3. There are two ways out of the arena: death or victory.
Puck ran with the deer until they cut between a thick tangle of trees that the cameras couldn't see into. The fire was close behind.
Puck shifted, fast as he could, and sprang forwards.
As a wolf.
He brought down the deer beside him. The others raced on with new terror.
He twisted his head until it was right over his right foreleg, and then he bit down, hard. Bit down so deep that if he were anyone else, anything else, he'd be taking himself out of the Games more effectively than any competitor. Pain screamed through him, but he ignored it. There was more than blood and muscle filling his mouth.
He spit out his tracker onto the deer's ripped throat.
The moment it lost track of his pulse and heartbeat, the cannon booms.
It was hard to do the turn necessary for a shift, but he managed it. Shifting into a mostly human looking boy left him whole once more, but there was still too much blood soaking into the dry ground.
Shaking, weakened fingers grabbed a sharpened rock from the ground. He cut into the deer's shoulder as best he could and wedged the tracker into it.
The last shape the Capital knew he wore was a deer. A deer was dead. A hovercraft was probably already overhead, trying to figure out how to retrieve it.
The fire was closer. He felt its heat blistering his skin. A burning branch crashes down from overhead and landed on the deer. The fire caught quickly, further destroying the evidence.
Puck was too weak to stand, but he forced himself to turn one more time.
A small firebug from the Other World flitted into the deer's carcass and hid there.
When the metal claws at last bashed through the trees to retrieve the corpse, Puck was inside it.
Unnoticed and free.
(It's not cheating if the game never had any rules in the first place.)
4. The best way to deal with a trap is not, contrary to popular belief, to spring it.
Moth was not afraid of fire. Moth loved fire.
But the other tributes would not be so enthusiastic, and she was eager to pick off whoever was left so that she could go back to the real purpose of these Games: killing her erstwhile fiancée.
She took to the air quickly. From here, it was evident to see what the Gamemakers were doing. The fire would drive them all together in the center around the Cornucopia.
Moth narrowed her eyes. Where there was still an annoying gray wall.
She wasn't far from it now, especially flying. She sped towards it, fire in her hands.
The first fireball flew.
The wall shook.
(There are, of course, other schools of thought.)
5. Be prepared for anything.
Leesha's wards couldn't last much longer and she knew it. She was strong, but she wasn't as strong as Seph.
Had been. Wasn't as strong as Seph had been.
The thought was unhelpful, so she pushed it from her mind. So far, the attacks had always come from the same direction. She ran to the other side of the Cornucopia, where at least she'd have a little protection, and set her eyes on the woods.
When the wards fell, she would be ready.
(You may think you're ready, but you never, ever will be.)
6. The Games will try to steal who you are. Don't let them.
The purple fog that couldn't be real and the smoke that most certainly was blended together. Susan ran from both, bow at the ready. Something in her chest felt sharp and aching.
Smoke inhalation, perhaps.
Magic, something in her insisted. Dark magic always eats you up inside.
She burst from the trees just in time to see something ahead of her - change. As if something fell, although she couldn't imagine what. A force field, perhaps?
A career charged towards her.
Threat! Susan's mind screamed.
Prey, the sharpness hissed.
Inhumanly fast, Susan raised her bow.
And fired.
The career's head was twisted back. Looking at something in the sky.
The arrow caught her in the throat.
The cannon boomed.
Susan's hands shook on the bow. Without quite meaning to, she turned her gaze up to see whatever the career - the girl - had seen.
There was a girl in the sky. A flying girl.
"Oh," she said faintly.
Magic.
The sharpness expanded.
(The Games change everyone.)