Ally Thimblewhitte, 16, District Two, Aries

There was a part of Ally's brain that knew what was going on. Hallucinatory effects had been a part of the Games since before she was born. She could sense the basic signs and even knew a few strategies to mitigate symptoms. But that had all been theoretical. None of her Career training could prepare her for the sight of herself doused in blood. Or the sound of her own voice that carried through the wind as she ran.

What a dutiful daughter. Helping her parents deal with a missing son by abandoning them.

At least Gregory didn't have a choice. The Capitol took him, forced him from his home. You marched to your grave willingly.

Something cold and wet whipped against her cheek. Assuming it was somehow more tainted water, she ran faster. But as the speed only caused her face to be even more thoroughly assaulted, she realized it was rain.

That girl from training was right. You became a monster. And what for? To be one of the worst Careers in the history of the Games?

The rain gave her an idea. She hadn't eaten anything, the drug seemed to seep in through the skin. There was no way to stop the hallucinations now, but she could dilute the effects; cover herself in untampered water until the effects went away. She stopped, reaching her arms out as the rain fell upon her.

The truth is you're weak, Ally. You have always been weak and no act of bloodshed will make you strong. Nixie was better than you. At least she was honest about the Games tearing her apart.

It wasn't enough. The droplets felt cool and soothing on her skin, but if she were to wash away as much of the hallucinogen as possible she needed more. It was difficult to see in her state. If she concentrated she could see the island she was on, the lip of the cornucopia. For a moment she thought she saw a shape in the shadows, but it was gone before she could focus. Finally, she found a section of the beach no other island had crashed into yet. Ally rushed towards it, jumping in headfirst when she was close enough.

The water was colder than even the rain. It seeped into her bones and chilled her so deeply she wondered if she would ever be warm again. But whether it was the cold or the sheer volume of water, Ally could feel her head starting to clear. She did not stay long, maybe five minutes at most, but by the time she finished dunking her head in the lake the voices had quieted in volume, even if they hadn't disappeared entirely.

She trudged back to the shore, although she only made it a few feet before falling down onto the beach, shivering. The rain was starting to pick up more now, fast rapid streaks that were visible as they fell. Ally looked out into the sea, watching the waves start to churn higher and higher.

Suddenly her view was obstructed by a tribute rising to stand above her.

Ally was exhausted, but she was well-trained. She knew how to keep going, no matter how exhausted she was. Idly, she wondered if that was a knack of hers, even beyond her time at the academy. She remembered how she felt after her father could no longer work, and when her brother disappeared. She recalled the long, lonely days of training; she wasn't even especially good at it, originally. Other people may have quit after all of that. Sometimes Ally wished she had. But instead she hardened her heart and she kept going.

So as the boy came at her with his knife, she rolled. His swing overshot and he stumbled, but recovered much more quickly than Ally expected. Clearly, she was facing someone with some decent training of his own.

She couldn't afford to think about that right now. All she could focus on was survival, on a way to keep going.

What for? What would it matter if you died right here, another casualty of the Hunger Games? No matter what you do, you're not getting out of here.

The last effects of the toxin left her body, but not without tugging at one final insecurity. Or was this more akin to a truth? Even though it was only a drug-driven thought, Ally felt a profound discomfort, as if it contained something important that she was missing.

A sharp pain brought her back to reality. There was a boy with a knife. If her subconscious had any messages for her, she would have to decode them late. Assuming there would be any time. The wound was deep, and she could feel blood pooling into her shirt alongside the rain. It had missed any vital organs, but her body had already been through several intense shocks. The blood loss made her woozy, slow. She hopped back to try to gain distance between her and her attacker, but he closed the gap easily.

Ally was a capable combatant. She was smaller than other Careers, but often found ways to use that to her advantage. She used distance, or martial arts that depended on using an opponent's strength against them. If she was at full strength, victory would undoubtedly be hers. But this boy was not only strong, he was trained. He dodged her attempts to land a blow as if he'd sparred before. He landed a swift kick to Ally's stomach, knocking her onto her back.

She sputtered, struggling to breathe, as the boy readied his knife again. This was it. All of her efforts, her determination, and she was going to be slaughtered like an animal by a tribute she was supposed to be better than. One last item to add to the list of her failures.

Except instead of stabbing her again, the boy let out a choked gasp. He stumbled forward, then fell. Ally tried to roll, but her body was too weak. The boy ended up falling on top of her, forcing out what little breath she had gathered.

A cannon fired.

She pushed him off of her and rolled to another part of the beach, an action which took up the last of her energy. The second to last thing she saw before passing out was an axe sticking out of the boy's back.

The very last thing she saw was Millie, with blood on her gondolier outfit and shock in her eyes.

"You saved me," Ally said, then slipped into oblivion.

Chenille Garcia, 15, District Eight, Leo

"I don't like the feel of this island," Chenille said.

"Neither do I, but the current's too strong at this point." Valency replied, "If we set sail now, I don't think we could fight against it."

Chenille understood the subtext. If they got onto the water now, they would be at the whims of the Gamemakers. They could take them straight back to the Cornucopia. Or perhaps to an even worse island.

She still wasn't sure why she was so suspicious of the island. It looked fairly normal, if a bit barren. Unlike the Sagittarius island, which was mostly trees, this area consisted of sheer white cliffs and rock formations. It looked a bit like the moon. Or at the very least what the moon looked like in movies. She knew that humankind had been there, once. But that was such a very long time ago. Did it really look the way she thought it did?

That was the main problem with most of her knowledge. What she knew, she knew through movies. And films had a habit of mixing fact and fiction together so seamlessly that it could be difficult to tell one from the other. This went for things beyond the moon, beyond simple slasher rules. Because every narrative instinct Chenille had was telling her that this was an island where the Gamemakers had placed something incredibly dangerous.

But what choice did they have? The rain was coming down harder, and they needed to find shelter quickly. That made her feel even more wary. In horror movies, they often didn't have a choice either. It was a writer's ploy, a way to herd characters into their scenarios so they could kill them off one by one.

The more she thought about it, the more she felt like the Games themselves were a series of horror films.

"I think I see a cave over there," Chenille said, pointing. Technically, she saw multiple caves. But most of them were too small or already filling with water.

Valency walked into the cave, bow drawn, and Chenille followed behind her with a flashlight to help fight back the darkness. As the days went on, she was increasingly thankful for Valency's presence. She was the only one of her allies who had stayed, despite her protests that they shouldn't split the party. And despite sailing some rough waters, the two of them had managed to stay ahead of most of the danger. Perhaps that was why she was so worried. If she was at home, watching the Games and pretending it was just a movie where no one real got hurt, she would probably be bored by now.

She heard a scuttling sound and gripped onto Valency's arm. A childish, impulsive gesture that she regretted as soon as she did, pulling her hands away and deciding instead to fiddle with a string on her backpack.

"It's ok to be scared, you know. I'm scared too." Valency said, smiling over at her.

"I know that." Chenille said, "But it's probably not the best idea to be grabbing onto your bow arm."

"Oh. Good point."

There was another scuttling sound, and it made Chenille nervous enough that she stopped fiddling with her backpack and placed her hand on the handle of her weapon. She was the person least trained for combat in her alliance, and everyone had told her it was probably best for her to just avoid fighting altogether. But when they were inside the vault on Sagittarius island, she had found a small pair of single-edged swords. They were so small and thin that they fit inside the same scabbard. Butterfly swords, Eli had called them. It was hardly the flashiest weapon, but it would do if she had to defend herself.

And Chenille knew that there would come a point where she had to defend herself.

Valency looked over and noticed the sword. "Remember, we're both better when we have space and time to think. Don't go charging in. Only use those to keep yourself safe."

"I know, I'm not an idiot." She grumbled, but there were no teeth to it. Chenille was the oldest in her family. She didn't get coddled a lot. As much as it embarrassed her, she liked Valency checking in on her from time to time.

Another sound, similar to the others they had heard but… more, somehow. The scuttling before had been quick and sporadic, the sound of a creature or two moving through a cave. But what Chenille heard next was a dull roar of click-clack click-clack click-clack. The individual clacking sounds were so frequent that they bled into each other, creating a wall of sound.

She looked over to Valency, who seemed overcome with terror.

"Get back to the boat," Valency said.

"But the current-"

"Doesn't matter. Run!"

Chenille didn't question her again, merely started to back out quickly. Perhaps she should have turned and ran, but there was a part of her that was curious. She had spent her whole life watching monsters appear on screen. What would one be like in real life?

The shadows on the walls of the cave appeared to ripple, and for a moment Chenille wondered if there was an earthquake occurring. She shifted her flashlight to focus on a far wall, to discover that it was the wall itself rippling. The eerie clacking noise was coming from the dark gray wave, and it was coming closer.

Crabs. Thousands of them.

Chenille dropped her flashlight, turned, and broke into a full sprint.

Rain struck her face as she exited the cave, stinging but welcome. Yet she didn't allow herself to stop. The island wasn't large, thankfully, and she could see their gondola in the distance. Chenille tried not to focus on what was behind her, instead setting her eyes on Valency. The girl and her oversized bow was her beacon, leading her to safety.

Except it wasn't enough. Perhaps she should have started running sooner. It would have given her precious seconds of time. Instead, the crabs overtook her. She was forced to the ground by their hard bodies, countless legs and claws pinching at her skin. The sheer number held weight to it, and Chenille heard something in her leg crack as the great mass washed over her.

Moments later, she felt something else: A hand. Valency had come to save her.

Once again, she focused entirely on her ally. She couldn't think of the rain, or the crabs, or the pain overtaking her entire body. Chenille merely let Valency drag her until she felt the distinct rocking of a boat. They had made it to the gondola.

"You came back for me." Chenille said.

Valency shrugged. "Of course I did. Are you ok?"

She wasn't. Her skin was bleeding all over from the numerous claws that had attacked her. And she could tell that her leg sat at an unnatural angle.

But that didn't much matter to her. She was alive. Relief bubbled inside her until Chenille finally burst into hysteric laughter. Valency joined soon after.

"Crabs." Valency said through giggles, "That would have been one hell of a way to die."

Chenille agreed, "There's probably a lion somewhere out there. But that's what we got."

"A lion and a bull! I nominate Cancer for the world's lamest zodiac sign."

The two of them laughed, taking solace in each other as their gondola floated beyond their control to an uncertain future.

Bixby Case, 15, District Three, Virgo

Bixby was not going to be able to go on like this for much longer.

The storm was absolutely relentless, whipping his boat back and forth with such ferocity that he could no longer stand up to paddle, instead lying on his back on the floor with a stolen tarp over him to avoid the rain. At least the position kept the seasickness at bay. He hadn't eaten quite well enough to want to risk losing nutrition through vomit.

It was hard to tell how long he'd been like this, alone and at the whim of the sea. His latest conflict with other Tributes was still fresh in his mind, simultaneously recent and ancient history. He hoped that Carnation was ok, but he knew it was unlikely.

Still, he had to be proud of himself at least a little. Lustre was a Career, and he had managed to survive. Bixby could possibly argue that he'd won the interaction. For days he had been wandering the arena, stealing from Tributes when he had to, avoiding a straight fight. It kept him alive, but it also felt like killing time. Except now he wondered if he could actually manage this.

Was it possible for him to actually go home?

Minutes or hours passed, and the torrent of rain finally slowed. He heard the beginning strains of Panem's anthem and pulled the tarp down away from his head.

The anthem was one of the few things keeping Bixby sane in the arena. The continual darkness was easy to get lost in, and the stars raced across the sky in a way that seemed purposefully engineered to make him unable to read them. Any way to keep track of time was welcome, particularly when it helped him learn who was still alive.

Nixie and Solomon were up first. Bixby wondered what must have happened. He remembered seeing them both briefly when he stole their gondola. Did they go into the black tower out of desperation? His brain conjured brutal thoughts about what may have been inside and found himself glad that he hadn't gone to check the building himself.

The next face was Carnation. So she hadn't made it. No matter what had ultimately happened, Bixby felt responsible for the kill. It made him sick.

He held his right hand in front of him and looked at the area where he had burnt his own flesh, grabbing onto the ash he'd thrown at Lustre. If someone had told him a month ago that he would have grabbed onto hot coals purely to harm another person, he wouldn't have believed it. But the Hunger Games twisted everyone who participated. Bixby wasn't arrogant enough to believe he'd be any different.

Two Nine boys finished the presentation, tributes that Bixby barely knew. Perhaps they had died quickly.

Probably not.

There was a thump, and Bixby realized that he'd hit land. Throwing the tarp off, he sat up to explore his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone. Another gondola sat washed up on the shore, a boy draped over the bow.

Not just any boy. Frazier Nelson.

Bixby had never officially met Frazier before the reaping, but he knew him by reputation. More specifically, his best friend Twain Healy was inconsolable for nearly a month after an encounter with the musician. As such, his opinion wasn't particularly favorable. He was also a Career, which Bixby believed had no place in Three.

However, he was from Three.

Approaching cautiously, he noticed that Frazier's face was covered with chemical burns. Acid? Probably. But also, something more. He could see some foam on the side of the boy's mouth, a slight discoloration of his skin, and an occasional twitch of agony. The acid had been able to create a hole so that poison could enter the body.

Twisted.

Bixby grabbed the small parachute cord he had around his neck and began to unwrap the liquid he had tied inside it. He still wondered how he'd managed to get the vial through Capitol clearance. True, it wasn't a weapon. But it was arguably far more valuable. The last remnants he had of his ally Joaquin.

No. The last remnants he had of his friend.

When he first got the makeshift necklace back from the Capitol, he received it from a woman who he'd seen on training center instructional videos. When she handed it over, she also gave him a thumbs up.

"Do people do this often?" Bixby had asked his mentor, "Sneak things around the Capitol, I mean."

"All of the time." Peeta said, "And it will continue until the Games end."

It seemed like such a strange thing to say. The Hunger Games ending. They had been going on for nearly a century at this point. But they had almost ended once. Perhaps one day, someone would finally be successful. Until then, he would be thankful for every small moment of rebellion.

With a heavy grunt, Bixby propped Frazier up so that his head was tipped back, then poured the antidote down his throat. Frazier coughed, which was the only proof the boy was still alive. Was he too late? Did he just waste Joaquin's final gift on a lost cause?

They were all lost causes at this rate. Might as well.

He poured the rest of the solution down Frazier's throat.

AN: And stuff just keeps happening, yeah? I may have gone a bit overboard with all the mutts in this arena, but gosh I love them. I don't have a ton to say so let's go on to eulogies.

13th- Nate. I think I've mentioned that most of these people now were considered for winning, and Nate was actually my chosen Victor for months. But it didn't quite sit with me that him winning would sort of prove Serpentine right. I hate that guy. I really loved Nate. His background was interesting, his personality was fierce, and it was really great to have some conflict in Bee's group. He was such a great addition to the story and I'm really going to miss this guy.