Disclaimer: I still do not own the Hunger Games.

Shadow watch

Iris Corolin – District 3 mentor

"So far so good," Iris chanted to herself. She always got nervous when one of District Three's tributes was about to do something risky and today was no exception. She took a deep breath to steady herself as she looked intensely at the screen. This was beyond her control, she reflected and braced herself for what was to come.

Exactly on cue, Leunam's hand met hers, enclosing it in his own. Their strength, or rather, their helplessness, stood united. Now more than ever Iris was grateful that they had each other; that was exceptionally more than any of the tributes really had, more than even some of the other mentors had. That had always been enough and Iris believed it always would be.

Killian Odell – District 1

A grin spread over Killian's face, though whether it was for the cameras or simply because of his sheer awesomeness, he wasn't sure. It didn't really matter. At last he would have the limelight to himself. Sure he needed his allies, the others who had trained, for a little while longer, at least, but in the end, it was only he who mattered. Yet here, alone, he could show his true worth. His wound was feeling better, but he needed the audience to believe that it still pained him; that way they would be even more impressed when he vanquished his foes.

Oh, Killian had no doubt that he would be attacked soon. As soon as any of the groups saw that it was only him at the Cornucopia someone would try it. And they would regret it. For his defense, he had a large shield propped in front of him, mostly to give him a moment to stand up from when his assailers came.

Or perhaps he had been wrong, Killian thought. So far it had been quiet. What had it been, an hour, an hour and a half since the others had left? Perhaps he had overestimated the other groups.

No sooner had the thought occurred to him did Killian feel an impact in his shield. Ibrahima! He was on his feet, prepared to face his foe one on one. Protecting his face and neck from the throwing stars, he was fighting blind. A fair fight, then, Killian thought, grasping his sword tightly.

He wasn't alone, though, Killian realized. In his momentary blindness he had made a terrible mistake, missing Ibrahima's ally, it must have been the girl from 3 who now snuck behind him. She had grabbed some sort of weapon, a long spear, but she wasn't using it very expertly. She was parrying and thrusting at his feet.

"I'll deal with you first, you arrogant girl," he hissed, dropping the shield. He could evade the throwing stars by putting a wall between them. Besides, Ibrahima would have to run out sooner or later. His sword sliced the spear in half and the blonde girl looked up at him in terror.

"Not so brave now, are we," he growled.

"Ibra!" she screamed, terror in her voice. She was dead, but she didn't know it yet. She would soon, Killian thought, smirking.

"I won't let it hurt, much," he promised looming over her.

Then it was he who was screaming in pain. No, he thought. He couldn't scream. It wasn't a bad wound. The spear that went through his back protruded all the way to his front, but surely it couldn't be that bad. Ibrahima stood at a cowardly distance and the blonde grabbed another spear, ready to assist him if necessary.

This couldn't be the end, Killian thought desperately, fury in his eyes. He could still stick the sharp end of the spear, use it as a weapon even as it pierced his body. The girl wasn't worth the effort, but Ibrahima, Killian had to get him out of the picture.

His own sword still in hand, Killian charged. Ibrahima stepped aside and Killian barely stopped in time to avoid the edge. He wheeled again, only to be met by searing pain as one of the throwing stars scratched his neck. Only a scratch, he insisted. He could feel his legs resisting; it took all the strength he had to avoid collapsing to the ground. He stood firm before the staircase, a trail of blood following behind him.

"Give it up, Killian, you've lost," Ibrahima taunted him.

"You fool! This is the only way," Killian retorted. Didn't he understand what he was doing? Surely there would be some retribution! He had to get back to his daughter, Killian thought, forcing himself forward.

"We'll just leave over your dead body. You have . . ." Ibrahima kept talking, but his voice was growing quieter, his face growing darker. In fact, it seemed as though the whole world was getting darker, everything but one face.

Her face emerged before him, how it might look when she grew up. He couldn't know, since he'd never seen her. He hoped she looked like him, not her mother, with brown hair, hazel eyes instead of his mother's looks. Killian couldn't even remember what she had looked like. The image was close, except instead of brown hair, the girl he saw before him had blonde. He knew her, he knew her. But how was she here in the arena?

Yes, he remembered now. Yes, she had gotten her mother's looks. Blonde hair, but Killian's hazel eyes. He had to make her proud now. He struggled, but couldn't tell if he had fallen to the ground or if he was still on his feet.

"Sienna," he whispered her name and his last thought was wishing that he had been a better father, a better tribute, wishing it hadn't happened this way.

Nero Taplin – District 2

Boom! The sound of a cannon split the arena, the second of the day.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Nero commented. He wished they had turned back, wished they could see if anything was going on at the Cornucopia. They'd already walked more than an hour from its base and would take them just as long to get back. Even if that hadn't been Killian's cannon, if something was happening back there, there was nothing they could do.

"Do you want to kill these tributes or not?" Saphyra hissed impatiently. "Killian's fine."

She pressed onward. It might have just been Nero's sense, but she certainly seemed to be more agitated with each passing day. He would have thought a volunteer like her would have coped better with the stress of the Games, after all, she had known what she was getting into as much as any of the three of them had when they volunteered. If her nerves couldn't take it, she should never have volunteered to be here.

Or maybe she was getting edgy because she was planning to betray them? The thought occurred to Nero only now that they were far from the security of the Cornucopia, their only supplies the weapons in their hands and their biggest weakness their lack of communication. They had mostly maintained silence in order to sneak up on other tributes, but maybe there was another purpose.

Nero himself was starting to get jittery. He had no way of notifying Jonas either, not without making Saphyra suspicious. He would just have to hope that when the time came they were united.

"Examine these campfires," Jonas called. Nero eagerly came to the other boy's side. "They're close together, too close to have been truly necessary. Why would anyone do this if not to deceive us?" he proposed.

"I don't know," Nero replied. He felt as though he didn't have any answers.

Candice Graham – District 9

Their plan had worked, Candice thought as she made her way towards the Cornucopia. Ailis had given her the mirror so she wouldn't have to guess what was going on; of course the mirror would never lie to her. That's how she had known it would only be the boy from one at the Cornucopia, how she knew beyond a doubt that the cannon had been his and her friends were now taking over their bounteous rewards. Of course she would meet them there fearlessly.

She forced herself now to pay attention as she slunk between boulders, looking over her shoulders to ensure she wasn't being followed.

She hadn't seen them in the mirror, but she was fairly certain the other tributes who had left the Cornucopia were still seeking out the maker of the fires, assuming it to be IbrahimaIt made sense that they would be after him. Surely none of them would care about an unremarkable girl from District 9.

It seemed like no time at all before she was climbing the stairs on the Northern side of the tower up to the Cornucopia. She would be so glad when she was reunited with Ailis. It was the most she could ask, for now. Of course she would be glad to see Ibrahima too, but in some ways he was more of a threat than he was a welcome friend. He was the reason, after all, that they were being so aggressive in attacking the main threat. If not for him, they could have just laid low, but they wouldn't be faring so well. At least that's what Candice had to tell herself if she wanted this alliance to last. And of course she did, she knew she needed these people to look after her.

"AAh!" she screamed when she saw the body before her.

"Calm down. He's dead. He just hasn't been taken yet," Ailis calmed her. Taken, Candice thought, disappeared like Freida had. Maybe the Gamemakers were trying to be kind and their disappearances were a way for everyone to pretend that these children weren't dead, but it was anything but kind. In fact, those shadows were just as scary to Candice as the shadows in the catacombs had been.

"Candice, what's that?" Ailis asked. She was pointing behind her, to a ray of sunlight.

"Ailis, it's just my shadow," she replied. She didn't understand why Ailis was making such a big deal of this.

"Candice, you have two of them," the other girl said, pointing to one side and then the other. Candice looked to either side, saw that Ailis was right, and let out another scream.

Leoric Hughes – District 8

Leoric wasn't sure whether to be grateful his corner of the arena was quiet or to wish he was in the midst of the fray. There had been two cannons already today and all he was doing was hoping one of them hadn't been Margery's. Thanks to her he'd been able to rest the majority of the night. He was grateful she hadn't killed him, especially when it would have been so easy. Even with the two of them, this wasn't the best situation, but they'd gotten themselves into it. Now he just had to hope they could get themselves out of it.

"Miss me?" Margery's voice asked.

"You've been away a while," he observed. She looked dusty and tired.

"I was scouting out the land."

"Anyone else in the area?"

"Not anymore," Margery answered slyly. "I may have been partly responsible for one of those cannons this morning, though."

"No," Leoric pried, incredulously. "Who?"

"The girl from five. And you'll never believe who she's working with."

"Ridge," Leoric replied with an ire he never imagined himself capable of. "You had him in your hands?"

"Not exactly, but I'm hoping something else will take care of him. He wanted an alliance, wanted me to go up that mountain with him. Obviously, I turned him down. They were climbing the mountain. He was too fast for me to do anything about, but the girl, well, I moved a couple of boulders, got out of the way and the mountain did the rest."

"But Ridge is still alive."

"Yes, but we'll see for how long," Margery replied. Leoric sighed. He wished he could pay that turncoat back for what he'd done. He would avenge Tanner, Jayanti, even that nuisance Brody if it were the last thing he did. Leoric knew it wasn't rational, that his life should be more important to him than some imagined debt he owed the dead, but it was for him too. Ridge had turned his back on him at the first side of trouble and he wouldn't take that from anyone. Not anymore. Not if he was going to be a victor.

Ridge Therne – District 11

For maybe the first time in his life, Ridge paused to think. Really, there wasn't much else he dared to do. He'd figured on having Altair at the top beside him, facing whatever awaited them up there, someone to bounce ideas off of, a second opinion to ensure he didn't do anything rash. With her death, though, Ridge found himself depressingly alone. Not only that, but before him lay a monstrous beast, thankfully asleep. That gave Ridge a little time to bide, but not much.

What in the world had possessed him to drag them both up here, he wondered? Tears glistened in his eyes as he gazed down the mountain. Altair's body had already disappeared from view, but he still couldn't believe it. As he had been climbing the mountain had seemed so stable; he'd had no doubt that both of them would reach the top until he'd heard her scream behind him. Now it was just him and the beast.

A beast that was now waking, Ridge realized as he felt the wind rushing around him, wind that was actually its breath. He looked to the horizon and saw the sun setting. Of course, it was nocturnal. He stood. The time for thought was done. Ridge drew the remainder of the bread from his bag and broke off a piece. Whenever the beast's eyes opened he would be ready.

Oddly enough, the creature didn't look all that different than he did, though it was a lot bigger. It had a form that seemed distinctly human, just more muscular, but with distinguishable arms and legs. It had a tail, though, and monstrous wings that extended half the length of the mesa.

The creature growled and Ridge planted his feet, backing away from the edge. This was it, he go thought, summoning his courage, willing his limbs not to tremble as the beasts eyes opened.

They were red as flame and looked straight at Ridge. It was only after the beast stood, about three times his height that Ridge saw its horns.

"It's okay," he whispered, trying to convince the beast, the audience, and himself that he was trying to sooth the giant creature rather than calm his own desperately beating heart.

The beast looked almost as though it were made of stone. It barely moved, simply regarding Ridge.

"I'm Ridge," he introduced himself, desperate for a friend now that he was utterly alone. He didn't know if the beast understood him; probably not, he rationalized. It was a Capitol mutt after all, placed in the arena to assist the killing of tributes. If his sister were here he was certain she would tell him to get away from it, that it was pure evil. But he couldn't believe that, not of his only companion.

"Here," he said, extending his hand with the bread. The beast took a step closer, really looming over Ridge now and took the bread from his hand and ate it. Regarded Ridge again and then gestured to its back.

Ridge hesitated for a moment. If he got on he was at the beast's mercy; he would never survive a fall from flight. On the other hand, how else was he going to get off of this mountain, much less win the Games? He swallowed hard, mounted the beast and the next thing he knew, he was in flight.

Bailey Thermes – District 7

She had no idea what time it was; all Bailey knew was it was dark and she was wide awake. Neither Mobie or Raivel had thought they really needed to keep a watch, but Bailey didn't want to let her guard down for a moment, so they had obliged. Of course she had taken the first watch. How long had they been in darkness, she wondered.

No matter how long it remained dark, she couldn't find anything comforting about it. Back at home nighttime was the only time she allowed her mind to wander, thinking of her parents, of the Hunger Games, of everything she couldn't admit haunted her when there was anyone else around. Now, here in the Games themselves, she had never felt more of a void from them, further from anyone familiar or anyone who loved her, even within their own sanctuary.

She thought she heard something. No, surely that was only her imagination acting up. The darkness in the arena did do odd things.

Then she saw a light. It couldn't be the dawn yet, it was far too early for that. Did the moon rise in the arena? She didn't think it had last night, but that didn't mean it couldn't.

Yes, it was certainly the moon, Bailey realized with relief. Its light spread down, reflecting on the water, even shining a bit on her. It was full and truly beautiful. How could an arena of death contain something so pure, she wondered.

She looked back at her sleeping allies. No wonder they were both so peaceful, she thought. How could she have been so foolish to insist they needed a guard? Nothing would happen tonight.

Even as she thought that, Bailey felt a shiver run down her spine. The wind seemed to rush around her. No, not the wind, she thought. She screamed, but only for a second.

"What? What?" both the boys awoke beside her.

"Nothing. It was just a trick of the wind," Bailey said, perhaps trying to convince herself as much as her two friends. But it still felt as though she was being held at the ankle, as though a cold hand was spreading itself up and down her leg, like ice water through her veins. She kept staring at it, shaking it, but there was nothing there.

"Go to sleep, Bailey. I'll keep watch," Raivel offered. She shook her head. As calm as she'd just been she couldn't stand the idea of just sleeping as whatever danger she was certain was out there. She felt a shiver down her spine again.

"Okay, well, stay awake if you want to, but I'll keep watch the rest of the night," Raivel volunteered.

Bailey wanted to tell him he was being silly, that he should just go to sleep. Instead, she settled in against the trunk of the tree, staring off into the darkness.

Blake Mahner – District 1

Blake could sense Khalani steaming. He wanted nothing more than to leave, to excuse himself without another word from her. After all, he deserved it. He'd put in his time. They all had.

He didn't even have to look around to know it was true. Year after year, the games took its toll on all of them. For him this year was over, yes, but for the mentors who remained in the room they still had days of agony before them. Maybe that was why he'd stayed for the hours since Killian's death, not because he still wanted to be part of it, but because he wanted to provide comfort in any way he could.

Now, though, now Blake just wanted to go to sleep. It was always easier to rest knowing he'd done all he could.

But had he? Blake couldn't help but shake the feeling that someone might need him, not Killian, certainly, he could do nothing for the dead. Not even Saphyra, the tribute who still lived. It was as though the hairs on the back of his neck stood, as though there was an unseen threat to the safety of one of his loved ones.

He must just be more tired than he had supposed, he thought.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked Khalani. She hadn't looked him in the eye since Killian had died, probably blaming him. He could live with that, though. She would understand soon enough they were mentors, not gods.

"No," she replied, just as he'd thought she would. He almost smiled as whatever weight had been resting on his shoulders was relieved.

"Well, if you need me don't be strangers," he said addressing the rest of the room. "I'm around until the end."

Esthelrir, Glade, Mags and the two from three waved as Blake exited. Everyone else remained engaged in their rituals, prayers, shadow watching.

"Their shadows seem
A canopy most fatal, under which
Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost."