Talitha Elphinstone, District 3

I try not to twitch or open my eyes as Carter looms over me. He's breathing heavily, and I'm surprised he has yet to bring the knife that is trembling in his hands down into my heart. Five minutes ago, I would have given anything to fall asleep. Now I'm not only grateful that I was awake, but also that I was lying with a spear nestled beneath me.

Then suddenly Carter whispers, "I'm so sorry," and that's my cue.

I roll out of the way and my eyes are suddenly wide open. He didn't stop the knife from coming down, so now it's firmly wedged up to the blade in my sleeping pad and the sand. He yanks it out, and then stares at me.

I scramble off the ground and groan as I put equal weight on my good and bad legs. I'm holding my spear, and he's got a knife. Even though I've got the more powerful weapon, if we were to get in a fight I wouldn't stand a chance. So I decide to stall by talking.

"So was this your plan all along? Kill me as soon as you had a chance?"

"Well it wasn't just my plan. The other careers, they made fake alliances too."

I'm kicking myself. How could I have been so stupid? I get perfect marks at school, and yet I fell for the half though out plan of a bunch of oafs. But that isn't the only thing bothering me. "You guys are so… ruthless."

"Yeah. I've kinda been waiting my whole life for this. If you want to win, then you have to be."

"I know," I whisper under my breath. And then I send the pear flying. Not at Carter, but a little bit to his left. His eyes widen, and he dodges out of the way of its assumed path, the path that most people would throw it on. Naturally, he put his heart right in place to be punctured a few seconds later.

I don't even want to look. I guess if I was really ruthless then I would admire my handiwork, but I don't want to see my once "ally's" marred body slowly being drained of life. To distract myself, I go to gather supplies.

What will I need? All the food, some weapons, I just killed someone. Just one sleeping mat, lots of water, I just killed someone. Come on Talitha, shake out of it. You can't dwell on it.

But… I just killed someone.

Dawn Brookeshore, District 4

"Gypsy! Gypsy! Wake up!" I shake the district 7 girl and she moans as her eyes slowly open.

"What is it?"

"The tent… we can go in! I'll wake up Scott."

"Good luck with that. He sleeps like the dead." I ignore her and walk over to the boy. I say his name once, and he pounces up, ready for action with sword in hand.

"What? Are we being attacked?"

"No stupid," Gypsy grumbles as she sits up and leans back on her hands. "Dawn jut wants to go into the tent."

"It's open!" He says walking over. "You guys ready? We could probably leave some of our stuff here.

"Whatever." Clearly, Gypsy is not a morning person. "But bring weapons."

And so we each grab our weapon of choice. Gypsy sleepily grips a mace, the spiked ball at the end dragging on the sandy ground. I've got a knife in my right hand, and three more strapped to my waist. And of course Scott holds a sword, which 'm pretty sure he hasn't let go of since the bloodbath.

"Who wants to go first?" He looks right at me and I know it's a challenge, not a question.

Without saying a word, I step forward and pull back the flap of the tent. I walk in, only to find another covered entry way. "C'mon guys! There's nothing to be afraid of!" Scott strides in and Gypsy follows. She trails the ball of her mace in behind her, the flap seals shut and its pitch black.

We wait for a couple moments, and then a ringing female voice booms from all sides of tent.

"Welcome! It seems you have come across the first carnival game! This one is a Weight Guessing Game. The objective is simple. You will enter the room, and there will be a creature in a cage. You must type in your approximate guess of his weight on the screen in front of the cage. If you are within 5 pounds then you will be presented with a reward. If you are not, then… well good luck! You will have five minutes to guess. You may enter!"

Just as the voice ceases to speak, the curtains in front of me are pulled open. I walk forward, and it's nearly too dim to see anything, then two screens suddenly light up, and great flashbulbs shine down from every corner. And then I see it.

A great beast is snarling and pacing in the cage in front of me. It's electric orange, with a white face and great black stripes all over its body. The beast's eyes are red and it's foaming at the mouth.

On one of the two screens is a timer. The other is for typing the weight I suppose, because it has numbered buttons beneath it.

"What do we do?!" Gypsy is in a state of panic. I don't know why, because the instructions were pretty clear.

"We guess the weight," Scott says, giving her an annoyed look.

"Well I know that… but how do we figure it out?"

"We GUESS!" I yell at her. This is completely exasperating, and I just need to think. I of course learned about weight in primary math, but this isn't about doing arithmetic. It's about rationalizing… and having a good amount of luck.

"The clock is ticking!" Gypsy calls and I glance over at it. We only have three minutes left.

"Maybe you could actually help me, instead of just standing there!" I say frantically. I don't do well under pressure.

Scott steps forward. He's cool and collected, per usual.

"It's defiantly over 500." He says, hands in the pocket of his tan cargo pants.

"But under 600."

"Yup… just put in 550. It's our best bet." He steps back towards Gypsy, leaving me to do the typing. I see what's going on. If I'm the one to enter the number, then I'll be the one to blame if it's wrong. It's altogether a pretty clever plan.

Whatever. If it's wrong, then we'll probably die. Then there will be no one left to blame me anyways.

I type in the first number. 5. My hand is shaking as I punch it again. I take a deep breath, and now I'm shaking all over as my hand heads for the zero, it slips, and lands on the one.

My eyes dart to the clock, and I see there is only 10 seconds left. The countdown moves agonizingly slowly. MY allies stand behind me, weapons ready. When the blinking red letters are suddenly all zeros, all the lights in the tent go out one again. The only sound is my heavy breathing.

And then, before I can move, there comes a low growl.

CLIFFHANGER! I guess you'll just have to alert/favorite this story if you want to find out what happens.

You should also review! Reviews are what keep me writing- so if you want more, then leave me a not! PLEASE! There's no reason not to :)

As PerfectingImperfections suggested, I've moved the death list to my profile. Go check it out to see who killed who, and enter the dress contest while you're at it!

I'll still include this notice:

So I want to make this clear: just because I kill your tribute does not mean I don't like them or you. 23 tributes will die, so it's less than likely that yours will be the final victor. I kill when it makes sense, if it fits in with the story and so on. So sorry if your tribute dies, but please don't just whine and cry in the reviews. Remember that I'm trying to fit 24 well developed characters into one story, and it's impossible to please everyone. You can in fact enjoy the WHOLE story, not just the parts that are all about you.

Okay that's all!

-Zinky