trigger warning for suicide in Artemis's POV

Mackenzie "Mac" Pricker, 18

District 9 Female

With every passing day my stomach was getting louder and more unhappy. I had a hatchet and I had blackberries, but it took me days before I was able to find a water source. When I stumbled across the pond I didn't hesitate to gulp down the cool, life-saving liquid. All thoughts of bacteria vanished from my mind.

Only when the stomach cramps started did I recall the lessons from the training center. But I had to decide what was worse: diarrhea or death from dehydration. In the end I chose the former.

Running water was safer than pond water; I knew that. But my search for a river or stream had been unsuccessful. I was wary of wandering too far from my pond. The memory of a parched throat and debilitating dizziness scared me from straying too far.

But after spending several awful minutes crouched behind a blackberry bush, I knew it was time to venture further into the arena. My crackers from the bloodbath were long gone, eaten in a desperate attempt to settle my stomach. But I had my first-aid kit and the black bag that buckled around my waist. And my hatchet.

The arena was still just as misty as the first day. Sometimes it would lighten, but only for an hour or so, and only in certain areas. And right now was not one of those times. I picked a direction at random and headed off.

Every once in a while I'd stop to scratch a mark into the ground or lean a stick up against a tree, just in case I got lost in the fog. If I couldn't find running water I would have to return to my pond and I was not going to risk losing my way.

I wasn't sure how long I walked for - everything looked and felt the same in this gray hellscape. But eventually a soft splashing sound broke the silence. I couldn't stop my little laugh of delight as I picked up speed.

I was almost running by the time I reached the edge of the trees. A rocky shore stretched out in front of me, and a wide stream was flowing by. I ran to the edge of the water and dropped to my knees.

I scooped cold, fresh water into my mouth with cupped hands. My stomach jolted in protest so I slowed down, but I couldn't bring myself to stop. It was so much better than muddy, stagnant pond water.

Once I drank my fill I stood up and brushed myself off. A strange scent reached my nose and I tensed for a moment before I placed it. Skunk cabbages.

I followed the stinky smell further upstream and found several of the water plants growing in the mud beside the water. The rocky riverbed created a small pool of sorts, which was filled with skunk cabbages and cattails.

As I reached down to pick the leaves, something sharp pierced my fingers. I shrieked and jumped back, looking around wildly. A strange spitting, hissing noise was coming from the cattails. I started to back away.

My foot knocked against a rock and I started to fall. And I barely had time to catch myself against another wet rock before the creatures were on me.

There had to be at least a dozen of the small, furry animals. They were all over me, scratching and biting. I thrashed and rolled, trying to get them off of me. Then one of their little feet slipped into my mouth and I lost it.

I screamed as I kicked and flailed and sobbed. There were fuzzy bodies everywhere and I was dripping with blood. Every time I managed to pry one off me, another one was there to take its place.

The water, I thought suddenly. I can drown them. I clenched my jaw and forced my limbs to obey me. I scrambled toward the river, ignoring my breaking fingernails and bloody palms.

Finally, I splashed into the water. I dug my hands into the rocky riverbed and completely submerged myself. Once I was fully under I began to thrash again, twisting to scrape my sides against the rocks. And slowly, the animals began to lose their grip. Their tiny claws were detaching from my skin.

I stayed under until I couldn't hold my breath for one more instant. Then I broke the surface, gasping and sobbing. Only one little creaturing still clung to my shoulder and I ripped it off and violently threw it against a rock.

Everything was quiet again. It was as if the creatures had never existed. Only the dead one on the shore remained. I sat in the water, trembling all over. I didn't want to look at the numerous scratches and bites all over me. I didn't want to get up and go back into the forest. I didn't want to be here!

"Brady, what do I do?" I sobbed. Of course, he didn't answer. I pulled my knees up to my chest and took deep, shaky breaths. First, I had to stand up. Then I had to go get my axe. And then I would walk back to the treeline and take a look at my injuries.

Okay, I told myself. Go.

I stood shakily and waded back to the shore. I quickly grabbed my hatchet, forcing away the fear of more animals attacking me. But none came. As I rushed to the trees, I glanced at the furry creature that lay dead on the shore. It was bigger than most of the ones I'd seen, but it was definitely a rat. I shuddered.

Once I was safely hidden by the mist and the pines I surveyed myself. My jacket and pants were torn in lots of places and cuts and bites littered my skin. I could feel the stinging wounds on my face too.

A sudden cold feeling washed over me. I was wet and shivering from the river, but it felt different. My stomach grumbled again and a ravenous hunger gripped me. I hunched over and groaned. It hurt…

I glanced over at a blackberry bush but the plump berries seemed completely unappealing. I was hungry for something else. Something that was much harder to come by. Something warm. Something alive…

Brielle Hyland, 17

District 10 Female

So far, my plan to tail another tribute had been a total failure. I hadn't seen a single other living soul, besides the crow that nearly pooped on me yesterday as I picked blackberries. It was like the mist was taunting me. It knew I wanted to find someone… and so it kept them hidden.

My only lucky break was finding a small shack. It only had a stool, a cot, and a musty blanket inside, but it felt like luxury to me. It was almost laughable how quickly our standards and morals faded in the arena.

I was inside the shack now, sitting on the stool and eating the last piece of my ham sandwich. Someone sent it to me yesterday morning and it took all of my self-control to keep myself from wolfing it down in one sitting. The human body needed protein; blackberries weren't enough to sustain me forever.

I swallowed the last bite and balled up the brown paper the sandwich was wrapped in. After a moment of stillness, I hurled it against the wall. It thudded lightly and fell onto the cot. I squeezed my eyes shut and fought the urge to cry.

This wasn't me! I was the cool, calm, collected explorer who ruled the tunnels of District 10. I was the girl who outsmarted the Peacekeepers and collected the secrets of the past. I wasn't meant to be an angry, desperate tribute fighting for her life in the arena! I buried my face in my hands.

A soft pinging noise disrupted the constant silence of the arena. I got up and cautiously crept to the door. A white box, held aloft by a silver parachute, was gently floating towards me. It landed softly in the clearing around the shack, about thirty feet from the door.

I stepped out onto the brittle grass and made my way over to the package. I untied the strings of the parachute and opened the box. Inside was a polished wooden crossbow and a dozen bolts in a leather quiver.

My hands shook with excitement as I picked up my weapon. But that excitement turned to fear as a branch snapped somewhere in the trees and someone cursed.

I grabbed a handful of bolts and dashed back to the shack, slamming the door behind me. I could hear several sets of footsteps pounding on the grass and I kicked the stool in front of the door, trying to load the crossbow at the same time.

"Surround her!" a boy shouted. The glass window behind me shattered and I jumped up, aiming the crossbow at the boy from 2. He was holding two sharp, forked weapons and was grinning.

Before either of us could move, the door opened with a bang. I whirled around and fired a bolt straight into the tribute's throat. Zey collapsed and I lunged over zeir body, subconsciously noting that it was Lotus of District 4.

But I didn't have time to give zem any more thought. I started to dash for the trees but was suddenly pulled to a halt just as Lotus's cannon fired. It took a few moments for the blinding pain in my torso to register, but when it did all I could do was gasp. The crossbow fell from my hands as I looked down to see a silver blade protruding from my front.

There was a horrible grating noise as my attacker pulled the weapon out of me. I fell to the ground, clutching the wound and whimpering. The hulking tribute from 4 leaned over me, using xeir foot to roll me onto my back. I could taste blood in my mouth and I stared up at xem.

Xey raised xeir sword and a single tear tracked down xeir cheek. I took a deep, shaky breath and closed my eyes. This was where my story ended. But I would be a part of Panem's history forever. As the sword pierced my chest, my last thought was of the note I left for my parents. They wouldn't have to live a life of poverty any longer.

Robyn Seiwald, 15

District 3 Female

I'd spent the last four days barricaded in my little shack, working tirelessly on my ticket to victory. I'd made small bombs back in District 3 - bombs that would release a bright flash of light or some smoke or a little bit of shrapnel. Something to deter the homeless kids and gang members from getting too close. But this bomb was big. And it was going to make an even bigger impact.

Even back at home, I didn't hurt people for no reason. I only retaliated; never initiated. But here, in the arena, I couldn't stay on defense forever. If someone was going to try to hurt me, I had to hurt them first. And if anyone was going to come after me, it was going to be the Careers.

So far, the hardest part of making the bomb was collecting shrapnel. I'd been collecting small, sharp rocks but they wouldn't be enough. I also had several cans from the Cornucopia. I was using one as the shell of the bomb, but the rest I'd been struggling to cut up for ages.

The lids were easy. You just used the pull-tab and they came off. And the edges were jagged already. But the rest of the can was nearly impossible to break apart. My fingers were covered in little cuts from my earlier futile efforts, but I finally figured out that flattening them and then stomping on them was my best option. It wasn't as loaded with shrapnel as I wanted it to be, but I had one last resource.

I was waiting until the bomb was almost ready to shatter the window. The shack was cold at night but it would be even colder with a hole in the wall. And there would be glass everywhere. But now it was time.

I'd already stashed the rest of my stuff in the bushes behind the shack. I didn't want someone to find my things while I was gone. Now I just had to smash the window and collect the pieces… and then go blow up the Careers.

I bounced on my toes, eyeing the dusty glass. For some reason, I felt nervous. I didn't hesitate to make a bomb, but I was anxious about smashing a window.

Come on Robyn, I told myself. Get it together.

I took a few more deep breaths to steady myself and then hurled a rock at the glass. It shattered loudly and I immediately flinched, covering my face to protect myself from any stray shards.

When I peeked through my hands, I saw that the floor of the shack was covered with sharp, glittering shards. I crouched down and carefully began to collect them, dropping them into the can and listening to them clink softly against the metal.

When the can was as full as it could possibly be, I secured the lid and sealed it by wrapping it in strips of fabric I tore from the cot's blanket. Then I pocketed my matches and stepped out of the shack.

The sky was just starting to darken. I probably had a few hours left before the anthem played, which was perfect. I wanted to make it to the Cornucopia in time to surprise the Careers as they came back from their hunt.

Holding the bomb delicately, I slipped into the trees. I'd spent time marking and memorizing my route throughout the past few days, so I knew where I was going. I just had to stay alert and be ready to move.

I wondered what my parents were thinking. They saw me as an income source, not a daughter. In fact, if I wasn't making money, I doubted I'd be allowed to stay in their home. Their disdain for me made that clear. But now I was about to take out the biggest threats in the arena in one attack. I'm capable of more than you know, I thought.

Ela was probably proud. Back at home, she would help me steal the parts and make the bombs. She couldn't take as many risks as I could, since she had siblings to help support, but she craved chaos.

The trees and the mist began to thin and I faintly saw the dancing light of a campfire. I stopped at the edge of the trees and peered out across the open landscape. From what I could see, the Careers were there. Multiple silhouettes moved back and forth, their shadows stretching out strangely.

I steeled my nerves and cautiously crept across the cobblestones. Here was where I was most visible. Once I reached the grass I could hide behind the gravestones. So I scurried over as fast as I could.

I only let myself release a breath when I was safely crouched behind a large headstone. Using the shadows for cover, I darted from gravemarker to gravemarker until I reached the low stone wall around the Cornucopia. Kneeling in the dry grass, I raised my head and peeked over the top.

Perfect. The Careers were all sitting around the campfire now, talking quietly amongst themselves. I took a match from its container with shaking hands, lit the fuse, and jumped up to hurl my creation into the fire.

"Hey!" someone yelled. My fingers fumbled with the can as I threw it and it sailed off in a strange direction. But I didn't have time to see where it went. Someone was nearby, and I had to run. I barely registered the sound of the bomb exploding.

I whirled around but only made it a few steps before slamming into a larger figure. I started to fall but they caught my arm. Trembling with fear, I looked up into the glittering blue eyes of the boy from 1. The flames of the explosion lit up his face, turning his handsome features harsh and nightmarish.

I tried to pull out of his grip but he was quicker. He dragged his knife neatly across my throat and let me fall. Then he ran to help his allies as I clutched at the wound in my neck.

Hot blood slicked my hands but the rest of me felt cold. I couldn't get enough air and there was an awful wheezing noise coming from my throat. Tears began to fall as I thrashed. Help! I wanted to scream. Someone save me!

But I knew no one would come. This is where I would die. I ran one bloody fingertip along the curve of the moon charm on my necklace and closed my eyes.

Artemis Shale, 16

District 2 Female

"Hey!"

When Aurelius shouted, we all flew into action. We were trained. We knew when a threat was coming. I reached for my axe, excitement lancing through me at the thought of killing some reckless outlier.

Then something hit me in the left shoulder. The impact knocked me back and before I could move to catch myself, fire erupted all around me. Thousands of tiny splinters of pain burrowed into my arm, face, and chest. A heat more powerful than anything I'd ever felt tore across my skin and I screamed.

I screamed and screamed and screamed, even as I hit the ground. The pain was just getting worse and worse. I could faintly hear my allies rushing around and yelling, but the biting pain was dominating.

I shrieked and wailed and cried until someone forcefully grabbed my arm. My blurred vision began to clear and I could make out Aurelius and Taffeta above me.

"Artemis!" Taffeta gasped. There was a scrape on her forehead and she looked terrified. "Hold still! I need to stop the bleeding."

I'm bleeding? Where am I bleeding? I tried to sit up but the fiery heat swelled up again and I moaned. Slowly, I brought my right hand up. I barely touched a finger to my chest before I was screaming again. Aurelius grabbed my wrist and forced me down into the grass.

"Why?" I sobbed, desperately fighting against his grip.

"It was a bomb," Aurelius said. "It got you and Crash pretty bad. Your arm…" he trailed off and looked away.

I couldn't tell if I was lightheaded from shock, blood loss, or my racing heart… or all three. Whimpering as I moved, I managed to shift my head slightly and look at Taffeta, who was bandaging my arm. Or rather, what was left of my arm.

I only saw it for a moment, but the sight of my arm ending just above the elbow was burned into my brain. I was sobbing so hard now I could barely breathe. This wasn't how it was supposed to work!

I was a Career! I was supposed to dominate the arena, cleanse it of the weak and rebellious outliers, and then face off against my powerful allies in an epic battle, where I emerged victorious. I would maim and butcher and kill anyone who crossed my path.

Am I going to die? The thought nearly made me faint. No! I couldn't die. Not like this. I was District 2's strongest trainee. I was undefeated! But I could feel my energy slowly slipping away. Taffeta's worried murmurs were slurred and my blinking eyes were groggy.

I had to get my axe. I had to stand up, grab my weapon, and slaughter the monster who did this to me! But I could only twitch weakly as tears streamed down my bloody cheeks.

I failed. I was a killer, but now I was dying. It was my own blood that stained my hands. Everything I did was for my district. Everything I was was for my district. If I was going to die, then my death would be at the hands of the best tribute in District 2.

"Knife," I croaked, weakly poking Aurelius in the thigh. I could barely make out his confused expression through the haze of pain.

"Knife."

He looked around, bewildered, before placing a small blade in my hand. I trembled as I raised it to my chest, but my will made me strong. I knew exactly where to put the blade; I'd known since I was eight years old. I closed my eyes and used the rest of my life force to drive the knife into my heart.

Wow, okay. Hi everyone. That was a crazy chapter. It took me some time to figure out how things were going to go down, so I went slowly with this one. I've also been in a bad place with my mental health, like I said last chapter. Sometimes all I want to do is write, and sometimes I just sit and stare at my computer and wish I could make words come out of my brain. So I don't know how frequent updates will be, but I'm not giving up on this story.

Alright - there's a bunch of stuff I want to address, so get ready.

First of all, sponsor gifts giving away a tribute's location will NOT be a common occurrence. I thought it would be an interesting event but please don't let it deter you from sponsoring. In all likelihood it won't ever happen again.

Secondly, I have no idea how nail bombs actually work and I was hesitant to do a bunch of research and end up seeing gory images. Shockingly, despite my choice of fandom, I am not a fan of gore or violence. So let's just pretend Robyn's bomb was perfectly realistic and worked exactly like it should in the real world.

Also, I am putting a poll up on my profile as of the posting of this chapter, so please go vote! It'll take less than ten seconds, I promise.

The next thing is that the collaborative SYOT I'm working on with AmericanPi and 66samvr still needs three more tributes. If you're interested, all the info is on the profile Brant's Games. It's not a typical SYOT though, so please read the details of the story before you submit so you understand the concept.

And finally, I am officially opening submissions for my next SYOT. It will be a partial SYOT set during the 72nd Games. I don't plan to post the story until March but people have already been asking for slots, so I'm announcing it now. For now, I will only be accepting one tribute per person and will have a maximum of 12 POV tributes. But if there is more interest, I'm willing to go up to 16 POV tributes. Some slots are already reserved, so I'll post the list on my profile soon.

QUESTIONS

1) What is Mac hungry for? (hint: think back to Arawn's death)

2) Should Mac come across Saigon or should she cross paths with a Career? (I have ideas for both situations so I want your opinion!)

3) What will Crash do now that Lotus is gone?

4) How were you expecting Robyn's plan to go?

5) Whose death was your favorite? Whose was the saddest? (it can be the same death if you want!)

6) At this point in the story, who would you choose as the victor, and why?

EULOGIES

13th: Lotus Amarin (killed by Brielle Hyland)

Lotus was a brave and dedicated tribute who wasn't afraid to stand up for zemself and others. Zey were confident in who zey were and worked to instill that confidence in others. Zey knew that family is who you choose, not who you are born to, and zey had the most amazing family member zey could ask for - Crash. Lotus set an example for many future District 4 trainees and inspired lots of kids throughout Panem to unapologetically be themselves. Thank you Willuna.

12th: Brielle Hyland (killed by Crash Derosches)

I'd never written (or even seen) a tribute like Brielle before and I absolutely loved her. She was tactical and clever and always had confidence in herself, but she knew her limits. She had power she could abuse but instead she used it to help the people she loved. She thought hard and fought hard, but against two Careers she just didn't stand a chance. Thank you Paradigm of Writing.

11th: Robyn Seiwald (killed by Aurelius Charmichael)

Robyn was a great tribute to show the desperate side of the districts. She dealt with a lot of hard stuff but she persevered and never let anyone take advantage of her. She also struggled with a lot of self-doubt, which was realistic and fun to explore. She was stronger than she thought and she really could have taken out the Careers, but in the Hunger Games, the odds aren't always in your favor. Thank you averyrandomauthor.

10th: Artemis Shale (committed suicide)

Artemis was submitted as a ruthless killer who craved violence, but she became so much more than that. She was easily one of the strongest tributes in the arena and she would have cut down anyone who threatened her chance at victory. But there are some problems that violence cannot solve. Her submitter proposed the idea of Artemis killing herself if she encountered a situation she couldn't use violence to overcome and I ran with that. Thank you 4everlark.

ALLIANCES

The Careers: Becky, Aurelius, Donquixote, Crash, Taffeta

Loners: Anastasia, Mac, Freya, Saigon

Have a nice day, be kind to each other, and never stop reading!

- Fiona