Author's Note

I do not own The Hunger Games.


Emeria Delilah Echavoque, 15

Behind them, the sounds and screams of the bloodbath were beginning to fade. More players must have fled, the way they were doing. Emeria cast a glance over her shoulder. There was another group of players nearby, somewhere off to the right, and a boy somewhere behind them, but no one else in their immediate area.

Good.

They ought to be able to find somewhere to hide and gather their bearings.

"What–" pant. "Arena." pant. "Is this." pant. "Anyway?"

"Not– sure," came the reply from Silverie.

It wasn't the Fiftieth, they could both see that. That had been a beautiful meadow of an arena. This was more like a large field, with an ominous looking building in the distance.

"Could be special made then," Emeria suggested, still fighting to catch her breath. Her heart thumped in her chest, pounding against her ribs. An orange haze lay behind her eyes.

"Maybe. Looks familiar though."

"Maybe they took pieces from the other programmed arenas to build it."

They'd played enough rounds of the Game that the way certain things were designed did begin to become familiar after a while.

"Could be," Silverie agreed.

Emeria glanced over her shoulder. "You got any idea who or how many went down?"

Silverie shook their head. "Sure we'll find out."

They would be among the youngest. There had been a couple of really small ones – the siblings with dark hair and the red haired girl – but most of the players were her age or older. Some Games attracted more players fourteen and under, like Silverie, than others. And this Game appeared to be 'Others.'

It was a good job Silverie was tougher than most.

"Are you scared?" Emeria asked.

Silverie glanced at her. "Are you?"

Emeria wet her lips. "A little."

Silverie laughed and took her hand, squeezing it tight. "Then it's a good thing I'm here to take care of you."

Emeria giggled, glancing at the grassy field around them. They were exposed still, out here, but so too could they see anyone close. Right now, the only other players in sight was a group of four who were heading in the same direction but didn't appear interested in them. Harmless for now then. Possibly a target later. Or a threat.

She smiled at Silverie. "Such a brave partner I have. What would I do without you?"

Calpurnia Catallus, 16

Her lungs were burning, and her legs ached. Why had she ever decided to enter this Game? Her hair whipped about her face, striking at her eyes. Whoever set this thing up could have given her a hair tie, or pins, or a stylish scarf, to keep it away from her face. Marcellina was having the same issue, but the Summerfield twins had had their hair fastened back for the interviews, and while Luminita's was beginning to come loose, it was still held away from her face. Lucky bitch.

"Why did you decide we should enter this stupid Game anyway?" Calpurnia hissed to Marcellina.

"Me?" Marcellina slowed and gave her a look of outrage. "You were the one that came up with the idea!"

Calpurnia huffed and shoved her hair back away from her face. Again. "Ugh. Why would I ever suggest something this awful?"

"Could you two please stop arguing?" Luminita asked.

"What business is it of yours?" Calpurnia replied. This was between her and Marcellina, not them and anyone else.

"Look, I just don't want us to tear each other apart right now. If that announcer was telling the truth, then we could actually die in here. Die die. As in for real. And our best chance of that not happening is to stick together and work together."

Sorcha glanced at her. "Ugh. What are you now, the plucky teen hero?"

"I'm just trying to think about keeping us all alive."

Sorcha scoffed and flaunted a few steps ahead. Calpurnia cast a glare at Marcellina. "I still say this is your fault."

Marcellina turned pink, but didn't fight back as they continued. Of all of them, she was the only one to still have all her armour nodes lit, which seemed unfair. Maybe they could do something about that, later.

Phoenix Sterling, 13

She rolled across the wooden floor of the train carriage, still tangled up in the older boy's arms and legs. At last he managed to free himself and rolled over, collapsing onto his back at her side. Laughter continued to echo from both of them, even though none of this was really funny.

"Thanks," he gasped at last.

Phoenix gave him a weak grin. "No problem. You saved my skin, I got yours."

The train rocked beneath them, the familiar motion echoing through her. It was so close to realistic, but now quite there. Too much of a gap between each bump, too mechanical and repetitive.

"I feel like there's something we should remember about these trains," said Cormac, pacing back and forth across the carriage.

The other boy, who she remembered as the one that had done his interview in bodypaint, rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. Strands of hair fluttered around his face.

"I don't remember your name," she said.

"That's all right, because I don't remember yours," he replied.

She held her hand out, thoughdidn't bother trying to sit up. "Phoenix."

"Vivaldi," he replied.

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." He pushed himself to his feet and stepped over to the still open carriage door, peering out.

"Did you have allies?" Phoenix asked. Cormac had been hers, and he was here – but what about her siblings? Where they still back there, at the cornucopia? Were they dead already?

She wouldn't know until the evening, and that hurt more than anything.

"Yes," he replied, and then stopped and shook his head. "No. I don't know."

Phoenix laughed. "You don't know if you have allies?"

"My boyfriend… He entered too."

She waggled her eyebrows. "You two wanna play the lovers' role?"

"No, it's not– We didn't enter together. And he has his own alliance."

They must have been trying to game the system against someone, like she and her siblings had been.

"It's alright," she said, twisting her hands together. "My siblings and I didn't plan to ally together either. I was meant to get further than them, to…" Well, it all felt a bit silly now. She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Thorin kept trying to get me to pull the emergency lever and quit," Vivaldi said.

Phoenix frowned. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know."

Outside, the light spilling in through the doors was beginning to lessen. Phoenix frowned and turned back in that direction.

"I don't like this train," muttered Cormac.

No. The light wasn't getting less. The cliffs at either side were getting higher.

"Where is this thing even going?" asked Vivaldi.

And Phoenix-

Stopped.

Because now she remembered which Games this gimmick came from.

And she remembered the outcome.