CT: Good morning, Panem! After just seven days in the arena—and what an exciting seven days it has been!—it appears that we are down to two tributes: Shimmer Argent of District One and Kayla Rakkor of District Nine. I must say, this is one pairing that I was not expecting.

CP: Well, Shimmer's lived up to everyone's expectations, but Kayla's surprised us all again and again since the beginning. How about that fake limp, huh?

YE: She was just able to slip away without anyone being the wiser. I bet she's got something else up her sleeves right now.

CT: Sartorius, do the fans agree with Yvanna?

SM: It depends where you look, Claudius. It seems that most people are betting that Shimmer will win—she has nearly twenty to one odds at the moment, in fact—but Kayla is getting much more sponsorship money, even from people who publicly betted on Shimmer! It's an odd combination.

CT: That it is. Now, we could speculate all day as to what's going through the heads of our Final Two, or we could cut live to District One, where we have Excel Argent, father to Shimmer!

[Camera cut to the living room of a house in District One, where Excel is sitting on a couch across from the interview and camera crew, who are out of sight.]

Interviewer: Your daughter's a step away from winning the Hunger Games. What's going through your mind? Are you scared for her?

Excel Argent: Scared? [laughs] That couldn't be farther from the truth! Shimmer's going to win, simple as that.

I: But is it really so simple? She had a bit of trouble during yesterday's battle with Thera Adrastea of District Two.

EA: That wasn't trouble. That stab was dumb luck on the part of that Two girl. And what good did it do her? She ended up screaming on the ground.

I: And Shimmer ended up with a pretty serious injury, and a well-fed, unwounded opponent.

EA: [leans forward] Now, you listen to me. Shimmer's meant to win this year's Games. She's got the strength, she's got the skill, and she's got the determination. My daughter's not about to let something like a cut leave her at the mercy of some wimp from Nine who hasn't got a single kill on her record. That Nine girl doesn't know what to do with a weapon. She recites silly poetry! Since when has someone been killed by words? No, the Victory is Shimmer's. There's no doubt in my mind about that. It's only a matter of time before that crown sits on her head.

I: I bet you can't wait to move in to the Victor's Block, huh? It's gotten a bit crowded over the past few years.

EA: Those people, those Victors are the epitome of today's society. They know how to win. Shimmer knows how to win. She'll get us there. It will be an honor to live among them.

I: Thank you, Mr. Argent. Claudius?

[Camera cut back to the commentators.]

CT: Now, let's get back to the arena, shall we?

XXX

Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1

Victory is so close, I can almost taste it. However, it's dulled by the foul taste of the Capitol painkillers, which I have been taking quite a lot today.

I curse and shift to yet another position, trying to alleviate the pain in my leg. Thera's sword must have done more damage than I had initially thought.

But I can't let this hold me down. I'll let myself rest today, but tomorrow I go hunting for Nine. I can't remember her name, not that it matters, anyway. She's probably holed up somewhere, barely alive. She'll be an easy kill.

Still… both Jude and Robin ended up dead yesterday, and the only people who were in any position to kill them were the Elevens and Nine. Eleven Boy could have rigged up one of them in a rope like he did to Carn, but he'd need someone else to take down the other… Probably he hung Jude and had his District partner, that girl who snagged him at the Cornucopia, take Robin. But that doesn't work out, because by the end of the day Eleven Girl was dead, too… Did Robin and Eleven Girl kill each other? Did the Elevens split up, and Nine took down Eleven Girl while Eleven Boy took down Carn? No, the three cannons were right together. That changes everything. Either Nine or Eleven Boy killed Jude, Robin, and Eleven Girl all at the same time.

How the hell did they do that?

It doesn't make sense, and I don't like it. That, plus the pain, has put me into a very bad mood.

I will enjoy killing Nine. I will enjoy returning to the Capitol and being crowned Victor. I will enjoy arriving back in District One and making my father proud. I will enjoy it all, very, very much.

XXX

Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9

I set my pack down on the ground and sit down on a rock. This morning I left the cave—I couldn't stay there any longer—packing all of the leftover food into my backpack. I've been wandering through the woods all day, with no direction in mind. My feet have done the work, without my asking anything of them, which is fortunate, because I don't know if I could. My head hangs low; my arms are limp at my sides.

I feel empty, alone, purposeless.

"What do I do now, Anise?" I whisper. "Berg… Where do I go from here? I don't know what to do…"

I look around, searching for them.

"Where are you?" I ask. "Iceberg? Anise? I need you. I need your help. I can't do this alone…"

I thought that I had cried myself out last night, but the tears are still coming, and there are no arms to hold me anymore. The night spent in Anise's embrace is long gone, and the assuring presence of the Hunter had been lost before that.

"You're gone," I say. "Far from my sight.

Far from this land, this day, this night,

And, oh, this doesn't feel right.

It's not, don't you see?

"You were my guides, you were my friends,

You held me close, your strength did fend

Off dark and gloom. Your lives did end.

But why not me?

"Why am I still sitting here?

Why can I not feel you near?

Why am I the one so drear?

Why me, why me?

"Hunter, you're the one with skill!

Sister, you are better still!

If I'm to live, I have to kill!

Why me, why me?

"What did I do to survive?

For what do I have to strive?

Why am I the one alive?

Why me, why me?

"Why have I been left alone,

With both your lives stuck to my own?

Who has set this hateful tone

On me, on me?

"It's not right! I should be dead!

There shouldn't be thoughts in my head!

You both should live in my stead!

Why me? Why me?

"Can I set right what went wrong?

Can I end the Poet's song?

Can I be where I belong?

Can I? Why me?

"I thought I knew my place, my role,

But nothing is in my control.

I do not even own my soul!

"Why me? Why me? Why me?"

By the end, I'm screaming the words, spitting them out into a non-answering forest.

There's no one to hear but the birds.

XXX

Vivienne hands the sponsor form to the receptionist behind the desk and walks over to a nearby lounge, where a large television screen is constantly playing. She sits in one of the too-comfortable chairs and waits as the cameras switch from commentary to arena, arena to commentary. The form had had her request written on it exactly as she had wanted it. The object she was having sent to Kayla would leave her scraping the bottom of her remaining sponsorship funds, but she had to send it. She had to somehow tell Kayla that there was someone out there watching, who wasn't betting on her life, but rather out to preserve it and stand by her. She had to show her that her life was still in her own control, even though it had been so battered.

The mentor could only hope that the girl would understand the object's significance. Most viewers likely would not. Some might even call her crazy for sending it, given the girl's current state of mind, but Vivienne felt that it was worth the risk.

The silver parachute lands gently on the grass in front of Kayla, who hadn't moved from her seated position since her earlier rant. The fifteen-year-old stares at the parachute for a moment before sliding down off of the rock and onto the ground, her fingers numbly fumbling with the fabric, slowly finding the slender object attached.

It's a knife, a beautifully crafted hunting weapon, made in District Nine itself. The camera zooms in on its intricately carved wooden handle, which is engraved with animals and trees, rabbits and deer, wolves and birds twisting through leaves and branches in a strange symphony of nature. The blade of the knife is slightly curved and very, very sharp, perfect for finishing off wounded prey.

The commentators are babbling about the knife's origin, and what good of a weapon it would be, and so expensive too, but Vivienne isn't listening to them. She's watching Kayla, watching as the girl stares at the knife in her hands, and then as she slowly brings the knife up towards her neck.

Kayla touches the tip of the blade to her throat, the slight hook in the sharp metal tucked around her jugular.

For once in his life, Claudius Templesmith is silent.

A breeze stirs the branches of the trees, and somewhere a bird whistles its salutations.

Kayla's dark eyes look upward, through the leaves, to the sky.

She slides the knife into her belt and stands up, putting on her backpack. Then she nods to the sky and walks off into the trees.

The general commentary blather picks up again, analyzing what just happened, but Vivienne leans back in her chair, relaxed.

The girl had understood.

XXX

Remaining Tributes:

Tribute-Name-Age

1G Shimmer Argent 18

9G Kayla Rakkor 15