Bran, Sylva, Rycin, and I step out of the elevator and onto our floor for the final time.

We had just returned from the tenth floor to have one last strategy meeting with Drake and Jenny before tomorrow. Texanna and Cattibrie, District Ten's two living mentors, along with Rycin and Sylva, helped the four of us come up with a solid bloodbath strategy.

It's simple. We check our surroundings. If the cornucopia has nothing but weapons, we run immediately and find each other as quickly as possible. If there are supplies to be had, we find each other, grab what we can, and run. We don't want to give the Careers a chance to take us out.

Rycin pats my shoulder and says something completely unexpected. "I just realized. We never properly got to celebrate your birthday."

"We did what we always did," I reply, confused.

"I meant on the train. With all the chaos. I know how you feel about the whole thing but…tomorrow…if you…" His voice trails off for a moment and he shakes his head. "Hang on. Sylva, honey, could you please give me a hand?"

Sylva and Rycin both leave the area and Bran looks at me confused. "Your birthday?"

I nod. "I turned eighteen on Reaping Day."

"Your birthday's on Reaping Day? That sounds awful!"

I shrug. "Yeah, it's not great. Honestly, I'm just glad it was on Reaping Day and not the day before."

"Why not?" Bran asks. "You wouldn't be…oh…" It seems to dawn on him. "Right. The curse. And Finnick. Yeah, I wouldn't have wanted to be in the Games last year either, or at all, but definitely not last year."

I smile and nudge Bran gently. "It's fine, kid." A thought occurs to me, and my smile drops from my face. "Can I ask you something? Why did you want to be my ally right away? I didn't think you'd want to be close to me since I'm cursed and all."

Bran sighs, suddenly looking sad. "I don't have any friends back home, and I don't exactly fit in with my family either. I…guess I just wanted to have a friend before I die."

A light pain shoots through my chest and I reach out, pulling Bran into a tight hug. "Don't act like you're doomed. Anything can happen in that arena."

Bran sniffles and I feel tears begin soaking into my shoulder. "Just don't die for me, Ames. Don't throw your chance at winning away for me."

I don't have the heart to tell him that that was never in the cards. Bran is my friend, and I care about him a lot, but I care about living more. Still, what he says lifts a weight off my shoulders. He won't fault me if I choose not to save him. He's giving me permission. It's only right that I give him the same.

"As long as you do the same with yourself. If it's you or me, save yourself. You have a chance of winning too. Don't throw it away delaying the inevitable."

Bran just hugs me tighter. "Okay. I'll try."

He has just enough time to pull away from the hug and wipe his tears on his sleeve before Rycin and Sylva return with an Avox, who is holding a tray with four glasses and a cake. There's even a candle on it. "No lighters," Rycin says, "but it works." He turns to the Avox. "Thank you so much." The Avox departs, leaving the four of us in the dimly lit room.

A smile creeps across my face upon seeing the contents of the glasses. Three of them are filled with a pale golden liquid and one of them contains a dark bubbly liquid. I recognize the golden drinks from the smell, the smell of a pub. "Beer, huh?"

"Well, you're eighteen now, aren't you?" Rycin says. " You should at least try it. Only one glass though. Can't have you going into the arena hungover."

"Was this made in Nine?" I ask.

"Indeed it was," Sylva replies.

"Can I have a glass?" Bran asks innocently.

"Uh…well…" Rycin glances over at Sylva, who is giving him a stern look. "I don't think that's a good idea. You can have the soda."

I giggle and take a glass of beer. "Cheers."

We raise our glasses and clink them together. I raise the cup to my lips and take my first sip of alcohol. I'm instantly caught off guard by the bitter tang of the beer, followed by the burn of the alcohol. My face immediately contorts.

"How is it?" Rycin asks.

"It's good," I choke.

"That's one hell of a face for something that's 'good,'" Sylva laughs. "You don't have to finish it. It's an acquired taste."

"So I hear," I reply, setting aside the glass. Then, I turn to the cake. "What flavor is it?"

"Vanilla," Rycin replies. "With extra frosting to satisfy that sweet tooth of yours."

I grin. "Perfect."

Bran sips his soda. "Can I at least have a sip? Come on, I'm going into the Hunger Games tomorrow!"

"I…suppose a sip wouldn't hurt," Sylva admits.

"You won't like it," I add.

Bran, in fact, does not like it. He immediately gags, nearly spitting out the drink. Thankfully, he clamps his hand over his mouth to stop himself and swallows hard. Then, he sets the glass aside as if it was going to explode and takes a swig of soda.

"Told you so," I say with a laugh.

"At least I get to say I tasted it!" Bran retorts.

Sylva, Rycin, and Bran sing a birthday song for me, and as a joke, I blow out the unlit candles.

"Did you make a wish first?" Sylva asks.

I smile. "Yeah, of a sort."

I wish for my allies and I to survive tomorrow. I want to believe that will happen. I have to believe it.

All too soon, it's time for bed.

Bran gives me a hug before he goes to his room for the night, which I return. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says shakily.

"See you tomorrow," I reply as we both pull away.

Then, it's just Sylva, Rycin, and I. The three of us sit down on the couch, not really saying much, just holding each other. "I'll come back," I finally whisper. "I promise I'll come back."

"I know you will," Rycin replies sadly, and I find myself wondering if Sunny made the exact same promise two years ago.

No, I can't think about that right now. I have to banish all thoughts of my family from my mind. The curse will be broken in two weeks. I'll either be dead or free. I am going to fight to ensure it's the latter. Still, I want to prepare myself in case things go wrong. If I die tomorrow, I don't want to leave anything unsaid. "Thank you for everything you've done for me."

"You don't have to thank us," Sylva says, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "We both love you so very much. You fight hard, okay? Fight your way back to us."

I swallow hard and feel my resolve strengthen. "I will."

The hovercraft ride is long and quiet. No one really speaks. Jenny and I find ourselves sitting next to each other. Her foot bounces nervously. I place my hand on her shoulder, and she looks at me with a smile. "I'll be fine," she mouths.

I nod and remove my hand.

When the windows darken, signaling that we're near the arena, Harvey pipes up. "Good luck, everyone!"

He gets a combination of strange looks and scowls for his trouble.

We're unloaded from the hovercraft and brought to our respective launch rooms. Acilia is there and wastes no time getting me ready. My arena outfit consists of a dark grey shirt and a pair of tan trousers. A black sleeveless vest with a hood and belt is placed over the shirt and leggings, and I step into shoes made of soft yet sturdy leather boots. "The shoes are waterproof," Acilia explains as she puts my hair in a ponytail. "My guess is that the arena will be cool, not cold, and damp." She clasps my necklace around my neck and places both of her hands on my shoulders. "You were such a joy to work with, darling. You are truly worthy of your family name."

"Thank you," I reply, fighting to keep my voice from shaking. I check the clock and see that it's five until ten. Five minutes until the Games begin. In five minutes, I could be dead.

I spend those five minutes drinking some water and eating what little food I can stomach and focus on my breathing. When it's time to launch, I step into the tube and take a deep breath. The tube closes around me and the plate underneath me begins to rise.

Here we go…

I keep my chin up and put on a brave face. The bright light forces my eyes shut for a moment, and the cool air hits me, along with the smell of fallen leaves and rain. In the distance, I think I can hear a river.

Then, my platform stops and Claudius Templesmith's voice booms throughout the arena. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Let the Sixty-Sixth Annual Hunger Games begin!"

This is it! The Games finally begin next chapter! I made the legal drinking age in Panem eighteen since that's the last year you're eligible for the Games, and I imagine you'd be considered an adult after your final Reaping. Amber also gets another birthday celebration. I thought about inviting Drake and Jenny but figured that they probably would have been sent to bed. I also imagine beer is one of District Nine's exports since it's made from wheat.

Also, we get a cameo from two more victors in my little universe! Texanna and Cattibrie are District Ten's only living victors at this point. The District Ten Male from the Quell has not won yet, in case of any confusion.

So, what do you think of the arena so far? It's inspired by my favorite season, which is fall. I love fall. Unfortunately, where I live, the cozy fall season is fairly unpredictable. Sometimes it comes in September, becomes summer again for a few days, and then finally calms down. Other times, I'm waiting until October or November for cool weather. I'm hoping that it will cool off later this month. The forecast is showing lots of rain soon which is perfect because there's nothing better than working from home with a cup of coffee while listening to the rain.

I'm constantly changing things around in my arena outline, so chapters may start coming out slowly. I have a pretty good idea of who is going down in the bloodbath as well as the death order, but anything can change between now and then. Will Amber and all of her allies survive the bloodbath on this damp fall day? Find out next time!