I hope you all are having a good summer...

Again, don't count on the equations in Thalia's section making sense in context. I'm a writer, not a physicist. Or a cardiologist, for that matter.

Fun Fact of the Chapter: How the Mentors Won Their Games, Part III. Kaety, a female mentor briefly mentioned in Luka's reaping chapter, won the 179th Games. Although she was excellent with a sword, her real skill proved to be in healing and she quickly became the Career pack's medic. Nobody wanted to kill her as she was proving invaluable to the alliance, which left her free to poison all the other Careers by rubbing nightlock juice into their wounds, claiming it was a "disinfectant."

…..

Chantelle Jacobsen, District Ten

Two cannons, one a minute after the other. I stand, turning toward the direction of the sound. The ground rumbles again and a harsh wind begins to blow. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. The Gamemakers are up to their tricks again.

I run to find cover, under a tree, behind a fountain, behind something. I begin to scale one of the trees before the wind begins to shake the branches and I fall with a thud onto the ground, which rumbles again. I stare up at the sky where clouds are gathering. They're going to make it rain, and, knowing them, it isn't going to be a light shower.

Oh, come on. Weren't the earthquakes enough?

There is a loud cracking noise from behind me and a limb falls off a nearby tree. I scramble to my feet and run in the opposite direction, trees snapping and cracking all around me. If the Gamemakers are trying to maneuver me into an encounter with another tribute, I won't mind, unless it's a Career. I'll have the advantage—I'm well-fed, I have two knives, and I've killed before.

Anderson. For some reason, I don't feel as guilty about killing him as I thought I would. He was my district partner. My blind district partner. But whenever I start to think about him, thoughts of home flood my mind and propel me forward. I need to get home. That's the only thing I can afford to think about.

Another crack comes, striking a tree in front of me. I turn in the other direction, prepared to run, when something catches the corner of my eye. I freeze in my position, just barely turning my head to get a look at the thing. It's hard to see in the gray light of dusk, but those are eyes. Yellow eyes. Yellow glowing eyes.

I don't move. I don't try to run. The mutt moves forward, almost hesitantly. I still can't see what it is, but I don't have to. In one swift motion, I turn, lunge forward, and stab it right between the eyes, pulling the knife out a split second after and sprinting in the opposite direction, jumping over the fallen branches of trees as the rain begins to beat down.

…..

Jace Latone, District Nine

When the anthem begins to play, I blink in confusion. It's still bright out, even though it's raining. Well, more like dimly lit, but the sun is still out and it felt like the storm only started an hour ago. It can't be night yet. But it is.

Bri, Caprice, and I are crouching underneath a tree, which really isn't helping to shelter from the rain. I wrap my jacket tighter around myself. It's cold. And wet. And I'm really, really tired. I know, there's no use in complaining, but my tolerance and willpower to push away non-useful thoughts has pretty much crumbled. I'm so tense it feels like I'm going to snap at any moment.

"So..." says Bri, clearly starting a conversation just to fill up the silence. She glances up just in time to see the faces of her district partner and the girl from Eight project themselves onto the sky.

There comes a pause, then Caprice says, "Did you know him?"

She nods. "He was one of my brother's friends. He liked to make jokes."

Another moment of silence. I find myself thinking about Noaa. Was it really only two days ago that he died? It feels like a lifetime. I play back what I said to him the night before the Games:"Why do you draw attention to yourself by raging against the unfairness of this all? There's nothing we can do about it. You're just asking for trouble." He had just smiled knowingly at me, as if he had a secret that I would never understand.

And suddenly I'm curious about his poem, the one that they had taken away from him, the one that he had fought so hard to keep? What words were so dangerous and yet so precious that he didn't even care about his own safety? I think about my mother and the words that got her tongue cut out of her. Had she been warned too—by my dad, one of her friends, even a Peacekeeper? And if so, why had she gone on saying them anyway?

I shake my head and look at my allies, who have also turned to introspection. What are you supposed to say to something like that? What do you do when someone you've known your whole life dies in the Games and you can't help thinking that you're next?

Sometimes, I think silence is best.

…..

Teagan Stratus, District Five

The wolf has been following me for at least a day now, not attacking or biting, just waiting. I can't for the life of me figure out why. Maybe it's because I'm alone. Maybe it's to keep up the drama for the audience. Maybe it's to scare me—and, if so, it's working.

What is it waiting for? If it wanted to kill me, it would have killed me already. Is it supposed to wait until I'm too tired to carry on? That doesn't make any sense. I wouldn't be able to fight back, and if there's one thing you can count on in the Capitol, it's that they want us all to fight tooth and nail, to spare no effort. They want to see us at our worst.

My hand moves to the piece of paper stored in the pocket of my tribute uniform, the paper with the song on it, the song my parents used to sing to Kari and me in the night when they thought no one was listening. Make me confused, mock me with praise, let me be used, vary my days... but alone is alone, not alive... We were too young to understand, but they weren't, and the Capitol certainly wasn't. That's what got my parents, in the end. That's why they-

No. No, they're not dead. This is their handwriting, and if their handwriting can be found on a piece of paper from District Nine, that means they're out there somewhere. My parents are alive and working to make things right.

And if I make it out of these Games alive, I can find them, maybe. That is, if the Capitol hasn't already caught on to these little, fragile threads of a rebellion...

The rain pelts down harder and a tree cracks down the middle, interrupting my thoughts. I glance back at the mutt behind me and think, For now, all you have to do is make it out alive.

…..

Carreen Haggerty, District Four

This arena is seriously beginning to freak me out. Not only is there the impenetrable forest with the silent footsteps and the hidden tributes, not only are there random earthquakes that catch you off-guard and the raging storm that's felling trees by the minute, but the Gamemakers seem to be enjoying themselves by messing with the lighting. Last night it was pitch black, but now it's about midnight and it still looks like sunset on a rainy day. Gray clouds, gray sky, gray light. We get this kind of weather in Four when there's a serious storm at sea. The clouds don't break for weeks.

We have two tents, one for the boys and one for the girls, but I'm not in either of them. I'm sitting inside the Cornucopia, watching the sky. I needed fresh air and time to think, plan what I'm going to do next. I haven't had any time to myself the past few days. Not that I expected to, given that these are the Hunger Games.

Luka is a serious problem, both for me individually and for the alliance. He and Gabriel seem to be at each other's throats—well, Luka is, with Gabriel being coolly disdainful. The boy also seems to have it in for me, as he wants to be in control of the Career pack. Well, I'd like to see him try. I'm not really the leader of it, anyway.

The sooner I can get out of this pack, the better. In fact, I'd do so now if I didn't have Gabriel to think of. And besides, if I abandoned them too early, they might still be intact in order to hunt me down. And I certainly wouldn't be able to stand up to five angry Careers led by the psychotic boy from One.

The crack of lighting striking a tree jolts me out of my thoughts. I stare at the forest as the thunder rumbles. Fire is spreading everywhere. I shut my eyes closed instinctively, hand moving to the burn on my leg. Fire, fire everywhere. And if the ship burns, we burn with it.

The rain will put this one out. But I can't help but remember the time when there was water all around but nothing to stop the flames from swallowing up my father.

…..

Thalia Trinket, District Three

"Run!"

I sprint forward as fast as I can, pulling Link along as he continually stumbles over his prosthetic. The lightning struck a tree about a yard away from us, and the wind caused it to spread in our direction. The rain is pounding harder but I can't tell if it's the Gamemakers trying to extinguish the flame or trying to make us even more miserable. Probably both.

"Do we have the backpack?" Link asks, breath ragged. I nod and push even further. We need to get as much distance between us and the flames as possible. Equations start racing through my head, calculating our speed, the fire's speed, how much rain was pelting onto it, how many minutes it would take to extinguish it...

—speed = distance/time, distance = speed(time), time = distance/speed—

—faster, faster, faster—

—maximum heart rate = ~220 – (age)

—220 – 15 = 205—

205 beats per minute... every minute... 205 beats, 205 raindrops...6, 11, 7, 10, 6, 9. 10, 8, 5, 6, 5, 8. 11, 6, 6, 9, 8, 5. 8, 2, 7, 7, 7, 5. Something not right... something wrong...

"Thalia!" Link's voice is far away. I feel myself hit the ground. All those numbers swirling around, making me dizzy... "Thalia, get up! Come on!"

... something's not normal, Thalia, pay attention... the numbers fading into the darkness...

…..

Veras Valdez, District Five

A good eighth of the forest has become a wasteland of ash, thanks to a lightning strike on one of the trees. The fountains are cracked at their bases, and even though there are no leaks coming from there, the bowls are overflowing with rainwater. The forest floor around them is damp. Water squishes under my feet.

I think I have a pretty good idea about why I'm going to be needing that hiking pack soon.

Nobody's dead yet, though. Well, nobody since those two cannons fired hours and hours ago. The rain and the fire was just to mix things up, just to scare the tributes. From what I've seen, the Gamemakers prefer not to kill tributes directly, though they have enjoyed messing with our minds. Especially those who are on their own in this silent forest with no one to talk to, nothing to think about except their own impending doom.

I glance over my shoulder at the wolf-mutt who has been not-so-discreetly stalking me. Oh, yes. They definitely want to drive us to madness.

I take in a deep breath. I can't allow myself to be afraid. Or rather, I can't allow myself to let the fear take control of me. The fight-or-flight response can be a blessing after all, but I can't let it rule my head. Otherwise, I might panic and do something regretful and get myself killed. And I am not going to die. Not here, not today.

I scale one of the trees—more like the bare bones of a tree, actually, as most of the leaves have been burned or blown off. The amber-eyed wolf won't be able to follow me up here. I'll be safe. Well, as safe as anyone can be in the Games.

The clouds are clearing up and the sky is brightening. I've made it through another night and into a new day. The third day in this arena.

So many more to go.