Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9

Back in District Nine, the hunting weapons are kept under constant guard at night by the Peacekeepers. Every morning around dawn, the hunting class—"Woodsies" we call ourselves, because we live right at the edge of the trees, as opposed to the merchant "Townies"—goes to the weapon stores, where we are each issued a bow with five arrows, a coil of rope, and a hunting knife, like the one hanging from my belt now. If a Woodsy fails to return a weapon, even if it's just an arrow, he or she gets a public whipping and reduced pay. But despite this risk, there is one thing that all Woodsies agree on, and that's that there is a sort of thrill in stalking through the woods, tracking prey and calculating the way to get the most kills and, therefore, food in payment; knowing that you, with the bow in your hands, the quiver on your back, the rope on a branch, and the knife at your waist, are the hunter.

All this I remember now, with the knife at my waist and the wind in my hair as I lope through the woods with a steady hunter's tread. Because I am a hunter. I am Kayla Rakkor of District Nine, a proud Woodsy.

"Time to run, time to glide,

Not to shiver, not to hide,

With the spirits of my allies by my side…"

I keep glimpsing Bergamot in the trees, feeling Anise's gentle touch around my shoulders, and both of them are whispering to me. They are here, truly, whispering encouragement. I do not intend to fail them.

XXX

CP: Well, Kayla seems to be in a much better mood today!

YE: She most certainly does! And to think, just yesterday, she seemed close to killing herself!

CT: She has turned out to be quite the complex girl, Yvanne. What do you say we get more of an insight into who she is through an exclusive interview with her parents, Artem and Dina Rakkor?

[The camera cuts to a man and a woman standing outside of a long wooden building. They are light-tan skinned with dark hair and eyes, just like Kayla, and they are dressed in simple, faded green and gray clothing and armed with bows, knives, and rope.

Interviewer: Oh, I won't keep you long; you'll get back to the woods soon. I just wanted to ask what you could tell us about Kayla.

Artem Rakkor: [shrugs] She's our daughter. Kayla is a lovely girl. Usually quiet, a thinker.

I: Has she always been a poet?

Dina Rakkor: As long as she has been able to speak, she has turned words into beautiful things.

I: How sweet! But do you think that her words will save her from Shimmer?

AR: She will not need saving from Shimmer. Kayla has been a hunter her entire life. We make a living hunting here. She is very skilled.

I: And she's wily, too. Did she tell you that she'd be faking a limp when she was reaped?

DR: Yes, we knew. Kayla made that plan when she was twelve. It kept her from being afraid. She is good at keeping fear at bay.

I: But what about the pacing, the near suicide? Her odds of coming home, afraid or not, are—

DR: [frowns] She will come home! My daughter, our Kayla will pull through, no matter what plagues her mind. We will be waiting for her.

AR: [places a hand on his wife's shoulder] We have to go. We have a quota to fill, and the day is not waiting for us.

I: Of course. Claudius?

XXX

The Head Gamemaker frowns at his screen and switches it off, turning to the large television screen, where Shimmer is depicted forcing herself to pace back and forth with gritted teeth. Each step obviously sends jolts of pain through her leg, but she keeps at her exercise with a grim determination.

"Estimate on her health?" the Head Gamemaker asks.

"Thera cut her deep, but not deep enough to keep her down," a woman replies, glancing at a medical report. "If it comes down to a fight, her adrenaline will keep her going despite the pain. She's too strong and too skilled for it not to."

"And Kayla?"

The woman shakes her head. "I wouldn't bet too much on her chances. While she's unwounded and well-fed, she'd have to get close to Shimmer to do any definite damage with that knife, and Shimmer's still armed, and her accuracy throwing those knives is as close to perfect as you can get."

"But as Sartorius Mastorian reports, the nation doesn't want to see Kayla with a knife in her back…" the Head Gamemaker says, rubbing his temples. "It would be too quick, besides. Not exciting enough. No, this must not come down to a simple duel. We can't allow it."

"So what do we do?" Varinius asks. "Just throw stuff at Shimmer until she dies and Kayla wins?"

"We can't do that, either," the Head Gamemaker replies.

"But you just said that the audience wants Kayla—"

"The audience pities Kayla," the Head Gamemaker corrects, looking over at Varinius. "Pity and want are two different things. Whichever girl wins, we could please the Capitol in the end. Shimmer would be the unstoppable force, the iconic tribute. Kayla would be the one who overcame all odds and won the nation's heart with her purity. We could still pull it both ways. But we can't let it come down to just a fight. That would be far too quick, and far too one-sided. We need both of them to have a ghost of a chance. We need the audience to be on the edge of their seats."

The Head Gamemaker's frown lifts slightly as the idea forms.

"It's time to activate your safeguards," he says.

"Now?" Varinius says, one hand hovering over his control board.

"No, not now," says the Head Gamemaker. "Tomorrow morning, when there's plenty of light for the viewers. They might have run into each other by that point, if Kayla keeps walking in the same direction. Let them sleep one more night, let the people place their bets… Then activate them."

The Head Gamemaker looks around the room at his coworkers.

"Gentlemen, ladies, these Games are nearing their end," he says. "Let's not loosen our grip on events now. Let's make this a finale to remember."

The others silently return his gaze and nod.

XXX

Remaining Tributes:

Tribute-Name-Age

1G Shimmer Argent 18

9G Kayla Rakkor 15