Author's Note: Since school is getting out soon, I'll probably be updating more frequently. I'll try for once every two weeks—how does that sound?

Also, re: chapter title—because it seems like every other SYOT in the fandom is using it.

Fun Fact of the Chapter: How the Escorts Got Their Names, Part XII. Jude Vesper, the very prim District Twelve escort, got her name because "jude" rhymes with "prude," which describes her personality, and because "Vesper" is the name of a family in the book series 39 Clues, which I was reading at the time. Next up: How the Mentors Won Their Games.

…..

Emerald Honeycomb, District Two

Good thing about this arena: it's incredibly easy to sneak up on tributes while hunting. Bad thing about this arena: it's incredibly hard to find the tributes.

We've been combing the woods for about two hours now and I'm tired as hell. We all are. Not a single tribute—seriously? There's not a lot of cover on the ground, so they're either all up in the trees or all in a different part of the arena. Just our luck—the Capitol audiences are probably laughing their heads off right now.

It's kind of eerie, I have to admit, what with the silent ground and the lack of conversation and the darkness that makes it nearly impossible to see. I have to keep glancing around and squinting to make sure that my allies are actually still there. It would be so easy to betray someone and get away with it in this environment. Luckily, Luka and I already have a plan.

For some reason, my mind keeps coming back to that Twelve girl I killed earlier today. I don't know why, but I just didn't feel satisfied when I knifed her. It's not like I pity her—she was stupid, unhinged, or both and definitely had it coming—but I still feel hollow inside. It just wasn't as fun as I thought it would be. My game is in tricking other people and pretending to be more innocent than I am, not in killing people right and left. That's not me, and it never will be.

But I am a Career, and so I'll keep killing. Because no one can win this game just be hiding, in whatever form that may take. And I want to win. I need to win.

"I think I saw some movement in the distance," says Carreen in a low voice.

I nod emphatically. "Let's catch us some tributes, then."

…..

Thalia Trinket, District Three

I volunteered to be on first watch, which Link agreed to warily. I'm supposed to wake him up at midnight, though I'm not quite sure how to tell the time in here. I estimate that it's been two hours since the anthem played—two hours for the Careers to be searching the woods for us.

I finger the cord I found in my backpack earlier, thinking about what kind of traps I could build with it. It's rather a strong and long cord, and this arena provides a number of different possibilities. The water fountains would be good bait. It would be hard to see a dangling string through the leaves of the trees. And you wouldn't even have to be there when it snapped—you could rig one to leave someone dangling instantly. Anyone could wander in and set it off. Even me. Even Link...

I'm so absorbed in my thoughts that I almost don't hear them coming until it's too late. Just a rustle of leaves as someone pushes aside a branch—that's the only warning I get. No footsteps, no nothing.

"Link!" I hiss, shaking him awake. "Link, someone's coming!" My district partner springs forward, wasting no time in gathering all our possessions and heading in the other direction. His prosthetic leg is surprisingly mobile, and it's a good thing, too, because within a second we're running for our lives, trying not to make a sound, not to tip them off as to where we're headed. We run until we're both out of breath, then stop for water and start running again. The forest looks all the same and I begin to wonder if we've just been running in circles. But it doesn't matter, because whoever was chasing us is long gone.

"I think we're safe," I whisper, and can't help but laugh a little. We're both still alive!

I can't see his face, but Link sounds solemn as he says, "I'll take watch now. You go to sleep."

And, after a moment of distrusting hesitation, I do.

…..

Veras Valdez, District Five

It's good that I don't have any allies, because it's hard enough to take care of myself stumbling around in the darkness as it is; adding other people would be a recipe for disaster. I do have a flashlight in my pack, but to use it would be madness—if the Careers were here, they'd be able to pinpoint my exact location.

You need to stop now, I tell myself. Stop and rest. You're far enough from the others now that they won't be able to find you.

I lean back against one of the many trees in this arena and think about where I'm headed next. There's one thing that's been troubling me—okay, more than one thing. The first is the bloodbath earlier. I killed that boy from Eleven in cold blood. I know, I promised myself that I wouldn't get emotional about it, but only a psychopath wouldn't have some kind of response, and becoming mentally unstable is one of the last things I need in this arena.

As soon as I've managed to convince myself of that, the perfect justification slips into my head: It was in self-defense. He was going to kill you if you didn't kill him. It's not completely satisfying—I have no proof that he was actually capable of killing me—but it's enough to balance out at least some of my guilt.

Which brings me to the second troubling thing: the hiking pack I took from the Cornucopia is clearly designed for traversing rocky terrain, which this forest floor is very clearly not. Three possibilities emerge: one, that there's another, more mountainous section of this arena that I haven't found yet; two, that the Gamemakers are planning a sudden and probably abrupt shift in the arena environment; and three, that the Gamemakers are being sadistic by giving us tools that are useless. Number one seems the most likely, but I believe I've heard of Gamemakers switching up the arena in some of the earlier Games. And as for number three... well, I'll come to that conclusion if none of my other guesses are proved right.

Sleep. You need sleep, insists the part of my brain more concerned about short-term matters. I stand up and feel for the branches of the tree above me. Fortunately, the Gamemakers have made it easily climbable, and the branch that I strap myself to is high enough that the leaves of the tree conceal my presence. And finally, after I've made all the necessary precautions, I'm ready to fall asleep.

…..

Caprice Alexander, District Eleven

I'm awakened by Jace tapping me on the shoulder, turning over the position of watch to me. I probably got only four, maybe five hours of sleep, but I have a feeling that's going to be the usual in this arena. "The Careers are probably back at camp by this hour," I mutter in a low voice. Jace nods but says nothing as she settles down next to Bri.

She does that a lot. Saying nothing, I mean. I've probably only heard her speak a few sentences in the last week. Aside from the interview, of course, which really didn't tell me anything about her. It's not like I'm supposed to know my allies inside and out, but at least I know Bri's got her eyes on revenge or something like that. I have no idea what's going on in Jace's head.

And they both know more about me than I ever intended to let on—that I'm planning on not killing while I'm in this arena. That's a major advantage for them, an advantage I'm not sure I'm comfortable with them having, especially the enigmatic Jace. Is she just shy? Or could she be plotting to stab me in the back? Could both of them?

For a moment I'm wild with panic and even paranoia. My knife is out before I can even think and it's a good thing I catch myself then, because I'm only a few feet away from my sleeping allies and I know exactly what would have happened if my craze had continued for just a few minutes longer. I would have become a murderer.

In anger, I fling my knife towards one of the trees. It buries itself into the bark, even though it's not meant for throwing. I'm good with a knife. And that scares me.

My breath is ragged by this point and I feel like I'm on the verge of another craze because I'm getting this urge to run as far as I can and leap off the nearest cliff of this arena. I clench my fists. You need to stay in control. Be rational.

I think back to that short conversation I had with the Avox woman, the woman who had looked so much like my ally. Are they related? It would certainly seem so, given the Avox's reaction to seeing her picture. That's why Jace is so quiet—she doesn't want her tongue cut out. Nothing less, nothing more. And Bri's only twelve years old and though she's good with a bow, she doesn't want my blood—she wants the girl from District One's. Not mine.

I'm safe. Safe and sound. Or rather, as safe as it gets in the Hunger Games.

…..

Che Botill, District Seven

It would be so easy to just leave her here, right now. I wouldn't even have to prepare or anything, just walk away. She wouldn't be able to hear my footsteps and wake up to stop me, since footsteps seem to be almost silent on this ground. Nobody in Panem would blame me for it, not after her outburst a couple of hours ago.

It was a miracle that she even got to sleep in the first place. She was screaming so loudly, I thought for sure that the Careers would hear and come looking for us. But they didn't, and as soon as she saw Mary's face in the sky, she was pretty much shocked into silence, and eventually, into sleep.

I can't pretend I'm not rattled by it all, the bloodbath and Mary's death and this arena and Parker almost trying to kill me and the whole horror of this is it, we're actually in the Games and it's hell. But I certainly look calm next to Parker, though I suppose anyone would look calm next to Parker.

Yes, it would be so easy just to leave her here. It probably wouldn't even be that hard to make sure she never opened her eyes again. I'm sure some of the other tributes would do it.

But I don't. I can't. Not after all we've been through. Despite what's happened in the last couple of hours, whenever I close my eyes I still picture that friendly girl on the first day of training, the girl who suggested we be allies at the same time I did, the girl who laughed at all my bad jokes, them girl who refused to leave little Mary on her own. The girl who loves animals and dancing and finding the best in everything. The courageous girl who, when push came to shove, would always shove back hard. The girl whose father is a science teacher back in Eight and who has an eight-year-old sister named Mouse she'd do anything for. The girl with beautiful blond hair and freckles and a smile that melts your heart...

I couldn't leave her and most certainly couldn't kill her, so I sit and wait and wish upon the stars in the arena sky that she could become that girl again, if only for a moment.

…..

Chantelle Jacobsen, District Ten

I don't know why I didn't abandon him at the bloodbath. It certainly would have been a good move, and no one could blame me for it. And that way, I wouldn't have to get attached to the stupid kid and therefore wouldn't have had any hesitations about what I'm about to do now.

Of course, if I'd abandoned Anderson Birk at the bloodbath, I wouldn't have to do what I'm about to do now. It would already have been done.

I delicately finger one of the knives in my belt as I watch his sleeping form, and all the resistance I'd built up in my head over the past week crumbles. I can't kill him. What am I thinking? He's my district partner and my ally and my friend. He's the only one who knows exactly how I feel about this whole Hunger Games thing—I've put on a mask for everyone except him. I helped him onto the train. I helped him out of the Cornucopia bloodbath. I can't kill him now.

But if I don't, then somebody else will, and I'll probably end up dead, too. Besides, I doubt he'd want to go by the hands of a Career, being taunted in his last moments. This is much more peaceful. He probably won't even feel a thing. That's as peaceful as it gets in the Games.

And yet... and yet I still can't bring myself to it.

The Capitol is probably eating this up, playing tense music as I hesitate to sort through my emotions. I begin to feel sick in my stomach. They're all watching me, right now, betting on what I'm going to do, exchanging money for my life, for Anderson's life... the same people that shot Gramps.

You can force me to play by the rules, but you can't make me put on a show.

The knife twists its way out without me even thinking about it. I grab a fistful of Anderson's hair and pull up his head to expose his neck. He's still asleep, still breathing heavily. I bring my knife to his throat and hesitate for one more time. Hopefully for the last time.

A cannon fires, the sound ringing across the arena. I gather my supplies and walk away, refusing to look behind and give them what they want.