Night 2

"Don't move."

Sinead's body trembles as she stares across the clearing, the speckled body looking back at her with eyes that send more shivers cascading over her. It's taller than any she's ever seen, but there is no mistaking its slithering form as the snake uncoils itself to greet them. She can remember a time, maybe around seven years old, when she had been fascinated with the little creatures in the district gardens. Sinead had spent days crawling around in the dirt trying to match them with the ones in her library books. This one, however, bears little resemblance.

As it presses itself up from the ground, the snake easily grows to her height with several feet of tail still curled up beneath it. Glistening white scales stand out against the dim night, while the black shapes carved across its body almost disappear entirely into the landscape. A rhythmic hum follows the creature as it sits up, moving forward slowly to meet Sinead's eyes. She tries to think about everything she might possibly know about snakes, but her mind has gone completely, uncharacteristically blank. Its tongue flickers out mere inches from her face, and Sinead can only bite her own to hold in her whimper.

"Don't move," Jory repeats, his shaking hand held out towards her even though he prays that Sinead will not turn around to see him. Sinead is only a couple of steps ahead of him, close enough that he could probably reach out and grab her if he wanted to. The look in the snake's eye stops him; the glint moving slowly from Sinead, to Jory, and then off to the right where Capri is still standing. It's waiting, but for what?

"It's a rattlesnake."

Sinead's voice is little more than a whisper, but the steadiness in her voice is reassuring. She can't run, in fact Jory doesn't even think that he wants her to speak right now. He needs time to think of something; time to figure out how to reach for his weapon and kill the creature before it can get to them. The snake's tongue flickers out again towards her face, even closer this time, and her entire body shivers in front of him. Despite the fact that it's moved excruciatingly slowly so far, Jory is more than confident that he will not get to her in time.

"Who cares?" Capri asks. It doesn't seem important exactly what it is, the only thing Capri wants to think about right now is how to get it the hell away from her. She's seen enough of the Hunger Games to assume that nothing the Capitol cooks up in their labs will be vegetarian. Capri thinks that if she moved quickly enough, she could get behind Jory before the snake could reach her. Capri just isn't confident that Jory will react in time. By the look of it, this creature could probably kill them all in seconds if it wanted to.

Jory can see Capri's head turn slowly to look behind them and he has to resist the urge to reach out and slap her. He doesn't dare turn to look at her, instead he clenches his teeth and repeats his instructions. "Don't. Move."

"It's venomous," Sinead says, her voice slightly louder than last time. Its pupils are thin and vertical, something she only remembered reading about with the venomous species. Not to mention the pits on the front of its pointed head. A pit viper. All of these facts come spilling from her brain, but they're not going to help her get away. The only thing that Sinead can think about now are the fangs hiding within the huge head, ready to sink into her at any moment.

Sinead keeps her eyes locked with the creature and it doesn't make any move to look away. Dark slits that look nothing like pupils stare back at her, but the snake doesn't attack. In fact, it doesn't do anything. No more flickers of its pointed tongue because it already knows where and what they are. No more bobbing its head between the three allies. The only movement that remains is the humming vibration of its rattle letting them know that it feels threatened.

Sinead lets out a slow breath and moves one foot backward a couple of inches. Her eyes remained trained on the snake; its cold predatory eyes locked with hers.

"Sinead," Jory breathes. "Stop."

Sinead takes another step, this one just a little bit faster though it still feels painfully slow. The snake does not follow. Her suspicion is right, the creature might be a terrifying reconstruction of a rattlesnake, but it still acts like a snake. "Move slowly. It doesn't want to hurt us."

"Sinead-" Jory tries but he doesn't have another plan. He slips one foot back and the snake turns its head to stare at him, making his blood cool to ice in his veins. Jory stops, slowly reaching down to grip the handle of his machete. The snake still does not come closer.

Capri takes one tentative step backwards, barely feeling her foot hit the soil through all her shaking. The slowness of each step is agonizing. The muttation is several feet away, with both Jory and Sinead standing between her and it. Capri shouldn't have any reason to be afraid because, as always, she is in the best possible position. In a moment of impatience, fear, and maybe a little bit of selfishness, Capri makes a choice.

It doesn't matter if Jory saves her right now. Capri can save herself.

Capri ignores her alliance's plan and runs.

Sinead shrieks and falls to the ground as the snake shoots past her, its mouth hanging open at an unnatural angle with fangs pointed outward. Sinead throws her hands over her head in an effort to protect herself, but there's no need. She reaches out to grab the end of the creature, trying desperately to pull it away from her allies but the shattering scream stops her.

Jory tears the machete out of his belt and lunges at the creature when he sees it lunge across the ground to his right. Just as he suspected, its much faster than any of them and it's on Capri before he can take a single step. Jory brings the blade down into its flesh and the creature writhes in pain, but it does not relent. The snake turns to face Jory, the mutt's eyes making him stop cold for a painstaking second that feels like several minutes. It lunges at Jory and he bats the pointed head away with the side of his weapon, knocking it to the ground. He buries the tip of the blade between the scales that lie mere inches from its cold eyes.

Jory doesn't allow himself to even breathe until he is sure that it's dead, the hum slowly disappearing from the air around them. Through the blood pumping in his ears, Jory is unable to hear the second wailing shriek from his ally or even the third. It's the fourth that breaks his trance and forces his eyes away from the still creature.

Capri presses her fingertips firmly into her shoulder, willing the burning pain away as it buries further into her skin. Tears mangle her vision, and the first hand that reaches for the wound is easily slapped away. Capri sinks down until her forehead pushes into the soil, clenching her teeth so hard that her words are barely able to escape. "Help me."

Sinead pulls Capri's hand away from the wound and rips away the fabric overlying the area. Two lines of blood run down her collarbones, each leading up to a small puncture that looks much less dangerous than Sinead thinks it should. Capri shrieks again, hands clawing up towards the wound before Sinead can tear them away again. Capri's face is flushed and stained with tears, her teeth sinking deeply into her bottom lip and only releasing to let out another wave of screams.

"You need to be quiet," Jory whispers quickly, crouching down to meet the two girls. Capri doesn't seem to hear him, or maybe she does and simply doesn't care. Mere seconds later she shrieks again only this one fades quickly into sobbing.

"Help me!" Capri yells. It feels like a drill is being punctured into her skin while also releasing fireworks into the wound as it spins. It feels like an entire pot of scalding oil has been dumped onto her. It feels like something is eating its way out of her shoulder. Capri's neck feels stiff and her lips tingle, but those are faraway feelings compared to the agony of the bite.

Jory can't think of anything else to do. There could be tributes around, there could be other muttations nearby, and someone is bound to hear them. He clamps a hand over Capri's lips but his ally thrashes to get out of his grip. Capri's body writhes as another wave of pain gnaws into the wound and she lets out another ear-splitting scream.

"We have to go," Jory says quickly, wide eyes turning to Sinead.

"What?" Sinead asks. "We can't just go."

"They're going to hear us."

"I know," Sinead whispers, tears leaking down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Jory whispers, though he isn't sure which of them he is talking to. Jory pulls Sinead up to standing, watching as her hands regretfully fall away from Capri, but she doesn't fight him. They run, neither willing to look back as Capri screams again. Jory blinks back tears and forces himself to keep moving, repeating those same words over and over in his mind.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Florian hasn't heard the howls, but that doesn't mean that they aren't coming.

They were wolves. That's the only match that Florian has been able to make in his mind, though he has never actually seen one of the creatures in real life. A lot of the fairy tales he read as a child had wolves, animals that looked like the coyotes on the outskirts of District 12 but were not nearly as easy to frighten away. Florian can remember one in particular, an old story that he found terrifying when he was younger about a girl that encountered one on her way through the woods.

The pictures beside the large print pages, a gaping mouth full of stumpy teeth and ears that pointed up to the sky, did nothing to capture their true horror. Florian can't remember if the creature in the fairy tale howled, but now that he's made the connection it's impossible not to see it. The arena wolves, however, have no need to trick children hiking through the forest. The arena wolves simply devour them.

Florian races for the nearest tree as the sound pierces through the air around him. He gasps out a cry, attempting to pull himself up into the branches but finding them too high to grab hold of. The air feels like it is tightening around him as his wide eyes search for something to climb up to. The trees here are thinner, their branches little more than sticks with crumpled leaves hanging from their ends. Florian expects to see the wolves, the teeth bared and ready to rip his skin off his bones. He wonders for a moment what the streaks on the ground will look like once his gnawed corpse has been dragged away.

It's several seconds before he realizes that the sound could not possibly be the wolves. It's higher pitched, crashing into his ears like a single needle as opposed to the several distinct voices of the animals. No, this sound is human and it's close.

Florian's first thought is to head in the opposite direction, away from the pained shrieking and away from the thoughts of his district partner. Ira's memory, however, is the single thing strong enough to pull him towards the sound. A reminder that he ignored her screams, that he let her die when it should have been him.

Florian tiptoes forward, wide eyes constantly searching his surroundings. This might be stupid, no this is stupid, but he can't bring himself to ignore the cries. He's just going to see who it is. He's just going to scope out the danger to see what he should be on the look out for. Florian knows that all of these excuses are lies.

Some small, weak part of Florian wants to make it up to Ira even though she's already gone.

The screaming tapers into muffled sobbing by the time Florian musters up the courage to close the distance between them. He jumps when he nearly steps on what looks to be a snake that's taller than he is and easily the width of his shin. One look at it's crushed skull makes Florian gag, the pitiful contents of his stomach threatening to come up right here and now.

"Hello?" Florian whispers, looking around frantically as he approaches the crying tribute. He doesn't recognize them from this far away, the back of a single ponytail all he is able to see in the dimness. This feels like a bad idea. When she doesn't answer, Florian considers heading back the way he came.

A faint whimper changes his mind. "Help."

Another round of sobs cascade over Capri as she lays against the cold soil, her cheek pressing into the dirt but she can't be bothered to care. She isn't sure if she truly does hear someone, but she hopes that she does. Capri is unable to stand up even if she wanted, the tingling that struck her lips now settling deeply into her limbs. The pain hasn't dissipated even remotely, in fact it's only amplified over time, but her voice is hoarse from screaming. Tears stream down her cheeks and sting her eyes, but Capri can't even control her arm enough to wipe them away.

"Help," she whispers again, trying to turn her head but her neck has grown too stiff to allow that.

"I-I don't know how."

Capri does not recognize the voice, but simply knowing it's there is enough. "Please, please help."

Florian gasps when he sees her face, the skin of her neck so swollen that it forces the tribute's head into an unnatural angle. He can see where her shirt has been torn away, and the skin underneath looks like one dense bruise raised into an enormous blister. Florian retches at the sight, turning his head away for a moment to try and regain some kind of composure.

"What do I do?" Florian asks. The bottom half of her face has also started to redden, her lips having already swollen up to probably twice their normal size. Florian isn't even sure who the tribute is, but more than that he doesn't know what he is supposed to do. He's never seen an injury like this. Florian looks back down at the pair of puncture marks that ooze blood above her blistered skin. He has to hold his hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting.

"Help," Capri pleads again.

"I-" Florian begins, reaching out towards the wound even though he isn't sure what good that will do. He isn't a doctor, and all he has in his tiny first aid kit are a couple of wrappings and ointments. None of that feels like enough.

The second he touches her skin, it's like his fingertips have added a dozen more logs to the burning agony within her shoulder. Capri screams again, her voice rasp and weathered but not any less piercing than before. Florian flinches back, pressing his hands against his ears to try and block it out.

As soon as he uncovers his ears, Florian hears another sound. Loud footsteps pounding against the hard soil; branches being pushed aside and then smacking against bodies as they move past. Florian doesn't even give himself time to stand up. He scrambles on four limbs for several feet before pressing himself as far as he can into the shadows, praying that he is right about the direction the steps are coming from.

"What is that?" Florian doesn't recognize the voice, but it's one of the girls. He doesn't dare peek around the tree he is clutching to take a look. Another voice joins hers, this one male, but Florian finds it hard to understand them over the beating of his heart. If he moves, they'll see him; that is, if they haven't already.

A cold material prods Capri onto her back, and she gasps as pain explodes again across her injury. She opens her eyes, but all she can see is blurry spots of black and white swirling above her.

"Poor girl." Capri doesn't know this person, it's not the same voice from a few seconds ago.

"Good thing we found her." They're going to help me.

Florian cowers against the rough bark, his palms tightening against the trunk as another scream cuts through the air around them. This one, however, cuts off quickly and doesn't fade into the heartbreaking sobbing that he had begun to expect. It just stops. The only sound that follows is the too-familiar blast of cannon fire and heavy footsteps that come far too close for comfort.

The sound of the girl's cannon follows Aristona and Jordan back to the rest of their allies. It's difficult not to also bring back the horrifying condition of the tribute, obviously attacked by the dead muttation that lay beside her. Still, though, even with the gruesome image in her mind, Aristona feels more at peace than she has since they arrived in the arena.

This is what Aristona is supposed to be doing. It doesn't matter whether she enjoys it or whether she will see the girl in her nightmares later tonight. It only matters that she is doing it. Aristona is getting closer to fulfilling her duty to District 2 and to herself. My honour will be remembered. As it always has, the old saying has a calming effect on Aristona and she feels lighter as she walks alongside Jordan.

"Did you find her?" Ashara asks them when Jordan and Aristona finally get back to their makeshift camp.

"Yes," Aristona says proudly and Jordan nods solemnly behind her. The girl's screams had been easy to follow. It had only taken a few minutes to get to her, and then only seconds for Jordan to sink his spear into her swollen neck.

"Good job," Ashara says softly.

Aristona glances over at Jordan and he holds her gaze. "We should keep going. The anthem hasn't even come on yet."

Ashara stands up from her place beside Delias, whose injury has been rewrapped from earlier with the first aid supplies they had on hand. He hasn't complained, but Ashara can see the pain on his face with every step. Delias clearly doesn't want to be a burden, but Ashara doesn't think they should be splitting up right now either. If someone had ambushed her and Delias while the other two were away, Delias wouldn't have made it. It was a stupid risk to take for someone that already sounded like they were as good as dead anyways. Ashara isn't willing to be left behind again, not when they still have little to no idea what they're doing.

"We need to rest," Ashara tells her.

Aristona turns to face Ashara. Even through her neutral expression, Ashara can tell that her ally is not willing to compromise. Too bad. "We can still keep going."

"He can't," Ashara says, motioning towards Delias but if he heard her, he doesn't show it. "We don't have a plan. All we're doing is running around the arena getting lost."

"We're not lost," Aristona snaps.

"We are," Ashara disagrees. "You already got a kill tonight. Rest."

"One kill since day one isn't enough," Aristona reminds her.

"And who's fault is that?" Ashara asks. "This isn't the arena we learned about in training. They're hiding. They can hear us coming. We can't win like this; we need to change and you know it."

"You need to change," Aristona says harshly. "You're the last one without a kill."

"Jordan-" Ashara begins but she can see Jordan shake his head from behind Aristona. He must have killed the screaming tribute; so she is the only one. Ashara's hands clench at her sides before she can stop them. If she would have left Delias to help, maybe Jordan would be the odd one out and not her. Part of Ashara almost wishes she would have but leaving Delias alone would never have felt right. He isn't dead yet, no matter how much Aristona wants to act like he is.

Ashara barely manages to hold her tongue, wanting so badly to tell Aristona how stupid she is being and how delusional she is to think that anything in the arena could ever work perfectly. Instead, Ashara turns away from Aristona and sinks back down to the ground beside Delias. His eyes are closed, but it's easy to see that he isn't asleep. That's the only company Ashara thinks that she can stand right now- silent company.

"Wait," Jordan calls, jogging after Aristona as she begins to leave the camp site. She turns to look at him, expectation pulling at her features as it almost always does. Aristona doesn't want to sit around and waste time when they could be hunting; it's one thing that Jordan can actually appreciate about his ally.

He can also understand that letting her out of his site is not a good thing. Jordan has seen the cracks in Aristona since the first day, the nervous tension in her shoulders and the way that she still picks at the scabbed cut around her eye. He doesn't know what's wrong, only that something is. Aristona is dangerous, even more so than Delias at this point because of his injury, and she looks about two steps away from collapsing entirely. Jordan's heard stories about trainees that crack under pressure. It's not something he wants to witness.

"What's going on?" Jordan asks.

"I'm going to hunt," she answers simply.

"Alone?"

"Yes."

Jordan shakes his head. "One night. Give him one night."

"We don't have that time," Aristona counters. "He's injured, but the games don't stop for him. They can't."

"I know they don't," Jordan sighs. "I understand wanting to keeping going, but we're a stronger pack with Delias. It's just one night and we'll see how he is tomorrow. You can decide then."

Aristona doesn't need to ask what decision Jordan is talking about because it's all she's been thinking about since he was shot. Delias is slowing them down and they were already failing even before this. Aristona wants him to be beside her at the end, but that isn't the only way to win. When the Hunger Games are finished, it won't matter who came second as long as District 2 is first. As long as she is first. Delias should be of no consequence.

"One night," Aristona agrees, her words sounding too soft to have come from her stiff lips. The same piece of Aristona that tried to pull her to remain with Delias after he was injured, the piece that remembers their conversation back in the Capitol, is once again trying to make her stay with him. It feels both better and worse to give into that weak part of her mind. Aristona promised herself that she would choose District 2 over everything else, but with just these two words it feels like she is breaking that promise. It doesn't feel good to let go of even this miniscule amount of control that she has.

Jordan walks back to camp without Aristona, but he is certain that she will keep her word. The arena is difficult, far more so than he had ever expected when he signed that training contract last year. It's also more levelling than Jordan would have thought. Perfect Aristona is crumbling. Steady Delias is injured. Fierce Romello is dead.

Yet somehow Jordan feels more secure here than he ever has back at home. He had been so afraid to leave but it almost feels like he belongs in the arena. It doesn't matter how much money his family doesn't have or how many jobs they do have. It's not about networks, politics, or finances; it's only about survival. It's strange, almost amusing, to think, but Jordan's never felt so free.

Levi tenses when he hears them, but there is no need to alert Verdana. One look at his district partner tells him that Verdana heard it too.

Voices.

They're too far away to differentiate, in fact they almost sound like one person whispering to themselves at first. Levi pulls himself soundlessly against the cool bark and Verdana joins him quickly, her hands pressing against the tree just inches from his own. There have been very few words between them since this morning and right now, thankfully, there are none. Levi lets out a slow breath in an attempt to keep himself quiet, but his heartbeat sounds like a drum in his chest. Levi glances over to see if Verdana can hear it too, but she isn't even looking in his direction.

Levi's throat goes dry when he sees her pull out the gun but he is too afraid to tell her to stop. It could be the volunteers, it could be the same bunch of tributes they threatened earlier, it could be anyone. Levi closes his eyes for a moment, attempting to calm the frantic part of him that wants to attack them first. Get them before they get us; that's how we'll survive longer. It's a cowardly thought but it's impossible to push it away. Levi can't help but believe that is because he's been a coward all along.

The voices are closer now and Verdana can feel the cold metal vibrating in her hands as she trembles. She hates how afraid she feels. She hates how heavy the gun is in her hand and how stiff the trigger feels as she once again poises her finger over it. More than anything, though, she hates the lack of control she has over her own body right now. Verdana despises the fact that earlier today she was unable to force herself to aim and fire. It makes her feel weak. It makes her feel useless. It makes her feel dead.

Verdana can't be sure why things finally click. The moment a shadow flickers between the trees she hears the loudest sound she has ever heard in her life. Verdana becomes aware of the feeling of the handle in her grasp, the tension in her fingertips. It feels like a lifetime before the scream that follows breaks her trance, even though it's likely less than a second.

Levi turns to Verdana, eyes wide and somehow pressing himself even further into the tree trunk. A series of cries and shrieks follow, but neither of them moves. Both tributes stare down at the gun, it's metal gleaming in the moonlight, as if they don't believe that it could have possibly been responsible for the sound. Then, Levi grabs her shoulder and pushes Verdana in the opposite direction.

"Go," Levi hisses, following close behind Verdana as she begins to pick up speed. It's hard to think, but it's easy to run. He isn't sure if the scream that follows them is even real, but it still pushes him to move faster. Just like the first one, it's the worst sound Levi has ever heard.

Verdana barely manages to catch herself on a tree before she collapses, each breath feeling as if she is getting closer and closer to vomiting. She leans her forehead against the bark, squeezing her eyes closed as she tries to get a hold of herself. This is what I need to be doing. This is how I am going to survive. But the scream plays again and again in her mind. Verdana can picture the shadow writhing in pain, falling to the forest floor, and she doesn't even know their name.

Did I kill someone?

"Take it," Verdana says, pushing the gun into Levi's hands. Levi drops the weapon between them so quickly one would have thought it had burnt him. He takes a couple steps back, his chest heaving from the effort of running and tears already coating his cheeks.

"I don't want it," Levi whispers.

"Take it," Verdana repeats, her voice sharper even as tears begin to collect in her eyes.

"It's yours."

"Please," Verdana asks, picking up the gun and lifting it towards him with the barrel pointed at the ground. She feels sick to her stomach, like the sound of gunfire poisoned her instead of Verdana's own actions. This is what she is supposed to be doing, but she feels like she is about to fall apart completely. She can't do this. "Please take it. Just for tonight."

Levi looks up at his district partner as a tear slips down her cheek. For the first time since they met, he really sees her age and feels his own. Verdana has spoken so much about doing what they are supposed to do, about following the rules and surviving, but they're still just kids and they aren't ready for this. Levi takes the gun and shivers at the iciness of the metal. He can't even make himself look at it as he shoves it into his belt.

This is wrong.

Evi clamps a hand over her own lips, stifling a cry as she rips the sleeve away from the injury. The fabric is already wet with blood and Evi cringes when she sees it dripping down her fingertips. Her eyes are wide, half expecting whoever was responsible to pop out from between the trees but of course they don't. Evi would rip their head off if she saw them right now, with or without a bullet in her arm.

"Let me see," Noemma whispers, her face even paler in the constant moonlight. Her fingertips barely brush Evi's skin before Evi bats her away, stumbling back several more steps.

"Don't touch me," Evi hisses. She presses her fingers against the wound and has to bite her opposite fist so that she doesn't scream again. Evi can feel the blood coating her fingernails and she wonders if she is going to be sick as well. That would just be the perfect ending to this perfect day, vomiting all over herself while her holier-than-thou ally tries to tell Evi that her puke doesn't stink.

"Evi, come on," Noemma insists, gently guiding Evi's hand away from the injury. Noemma glances at the back of her arm but is unable to find another wound. She attempts to swallow down the lump in her throat, but it refuses to budge. Noemma has never seen a gunshot wound, but there is more blood than she would have expected.

Evi shoves Noemma away again, cringing at the pain that shoots down her arm with the sudden movement. "I thought you were protecting us."

Noemma places her spear down beside her and begins to root through her pack for the first aid kit, not trusting herself to say anything in response. This feels like the same conversation they had earlier, when Noemma didn't stop whoever had walked by them. Noemma hadn't seen anyone around them when Evi was shot. It's dark and there are trees blocking most of the view that the fog allows them to have. Neither of these events feel like they should be her fault, but Noemma doesn't want to argue either. A small voice in her head is even starting to wonder if Evi is right.

"Here," Noemma whispers, offering a stack of dressings that she digs out of their pouch. When she looks up, Evi is still staring down at her with annoyance. Noemma diverts her eyes back to the ground but she can still feel the eyes on her. Tears start to build in her eyes but Noemma forces them away. There is no reason to cry; Evi's the one that's hurt.

"I could have been killed," Evi snaps. "Is that what you want? To be alone here?"

Noemma shakes her head quickly but Evi just snatches the dressings out of her hand. Evi grimaces as she presses them against the wound, more pain crawling down her arm like a persistent stream of ants. The thin gauze pads soak through pretty quickly and Noemma wordlessly places a few more on top. When the top dressing stays clean for a minute or so, Noemma ties it down as best as she can. Evi gasps at the sudden pressure, but Noemma just keeps staring down at the wound.

They start walking and Evi glances over at Noemma, whose eyes are trained down at the forest floor. Evi knows that she's upset the girl, and a part of her is extremely annoyed at what she knows that she has to do next. Evi doesn't owe Noemma anything, but she isn't about to burn a bridge she might someday need to cross. "Look, I'm sorry. It's not your fault, this just really hurts."

Noemma keeps staring ahead for a few moments longer, not exactly sure how to respond to the apology. It's hard not to think about what Evi said, how she accused Noemma of wanting her dead when all she's been trying to do is keep them safe. Still, pain can do a lot to someone; Noemma's seen it in the patients they treat at the coast guard. Noemma wants to believe that Evi didn't mean any of it.

Noemma offers a weak smile, once again barely managing to keep her tears at bay. She could have lost Evi today, there's no doubt that she was right about that. Noemma just has to be thankful that she's still here. "I know. I'm sorry I didn't see them."

"I'm glad you're back," Fitzroy says softly, leaning back against the crusty tree bark and feeling more relaxed than he has since entering the arena. He couldn't have gotten more lucky running into Chiara this morning, and the fact that they can just pick up where they left off is a huge relief. Fitzroy expected to have to put in some extra effort but it looks like that won't be necessary.

Chiara glances at the space between the trees where Doran left just a few minutes ago. "He's not."

"Since when do you care?" Fitzroy asks, raising an eyebrow playfully. Chiara just frowns; she looks exhausted despite it only having been a day since he last saw her. Fitzroy hopes he doesn't look similar, it's not a cute look.

"I don't," Chiara shrugs.

"Look," Fitzroy says. "The two of us are endgame. It's going to be one of us that leaves this place, we're smart enough to make it."

"And Doran?" Chiara asks. It's difficult not to notice the coldness Doran has shown her since they met up, not to mention the fact that he literally attacked her just a few hours ago. Chiara didn't think Doran had that in him. Him and Emilia were the perfect pairing, happy even heading towards this hell, but Chiara hasn't seen him smile here once. Doran's different now; Chiara knows that she is too.

This time it's Fitzroy's turn to shrug. "He's harmless."

Chiara cringes at the wording, but it's good for her if Fitzroy's right about that. Before she can answer, Doran steps back through the trees sipping from a freshly filled water bottle. Fitzroy smiles at Doran, but the tribute's face remains blank. When Doran glances in her direction, Chiara's eyes fall to the ground.

"There's a stream that way," Doran says flatly.

"Nice," Fitzroy nods. "I'll fill ours later."

It only lasts a few seconds but the silence is suffocating. Chiara almost finds herself wanting to talk to Doran, if nothing else just to make this stupid tension go away. She knows that Doran blames her for what happened at the Bloodbath. It's bullshit. Who is he to accuse her? Doran could have run in and helped her, but of course he didn't- it would have been stupid. Chiara didn't kill anyone; she was just smart enough to leave when things got sticky. Does Doran think she doesn't feel bad about Emilia? Of course she does, but she's not here to die for someone she barely knows.

"Are we stopping for the night?" Doran asks finally.

"That's probably not a bad idea," Chiara says but Doran doesn't even glance in her direction. Doran's eyes remain fixed on Fitzroy until her district partner finally agrees.

"Yeah we are," Fitzroy says. He looks over at Chiara hoping to break through a little bit of the tension, but she is staring off to the side. It's not an ideal situation for sure, the two of them basically ignoring each other, but it's better than trying to kill each other. Fitzroy will take this as a win and keep working at it. They'll see reason eventually; Fitzroy has a knack for getting people to do what he wants. In fact, that's an understatement. "Why don't you get some sleep. It's been a long day."

It's hard for Doran not to take the proposal as an insult, just another way that they can be alone to talk about him. Doran doesn't want to think the worst but what other choice does he have right now? He's on the outskirts of an alliance he was never that sure about joining, without anyone he can actually count on. The problem is that Doran is exhausted. So, rather than argue like he really wants to do, Doran says nothing and lays across the dirt hoping that he will not dream tonight.

Erdan cringes as he tries to rip a piece of meat away from the half-burnt carcass, but it doesn't taste nearly as bad as he had expected. Their food ran out this morning, but it took them most of the day to actually catch anything. The tiny, fat mice don't have very much meat on their bones but at least they're not all that fast. Erdan swallows another gamey bite and, when he looks at the pitiful amount of food remaining, wishes that they had cooked more before smothering their fire.

"Is this far enough?" Erdan asks, tossing the tiny bones off to the side once he's finished. It was a risk to build a fire at all and even after putting it out it was decided that they should keep walking for a bit longer. After their run in with the District 7 pair this morning, they really aren't eager to see anyone else. Erdan can feel the weight of a couple of sharp rocks in his pockets though, just in case.

"What do you think?" Sadira asks, turning and offering him what could be a smile. It takes Erdan a moment before he even thinks to return the gesture. It's been a while since Sadira's last smiled. Actually, now that he thinks about it, it's been a while since either of them have.

"I'm kind of tired," Erdan shrugs.

Sadira glances forward and, even though it's only been a few minutes, she nods. "Here's good then."

The pair sits down in silence and Sadira loudly finishes her own meal before also discarding the bones. She's definitely not full, but she feels more satisfied than she has since leaving the Capitol. It's strange to think that she almost prefers the charred rodent to the meals she used to reheat alone in her kitchen. Sadira sighs, thinking about District 11 for a passing moment before she lets the memory slip away again. Home feels like it might as well be on a different planet than here.

"Are you okay?" Erdan whispers.

Sadira raises an eyebrow at his question. "Do you really need to ask that?"

"Sorry," Erdan chuckles. "I just mean you seem different today."

Sadira leans back, thinking about what she can possibly say to him. Yeah, things did change a lot today but also it feels weird to even attempt to describe it. How can she tell Erdan that she had pretty much written him off as having any chance at winning? That she thought of him like an annoying charity case she should have never taken on? That she almost left both of them behind at the Bloodbath to try and give herself a better shot at winning?

No, don't worry. I don't think of you like that anymore after you scared away those other tributes. Thanks by the way, didn't think you had it in you.

That would certainly go over well.

The anthem begins before Sadira can even open her mouth, and she has never been more thankful to hear the irritating Capitol tune. She doesn't pay much attention to the two girls that flash against the dark sky; she doesn't really remember either of them. That is, until she sees the number '3' set beside the second girl's image.

"I'm sorry," Sadira whispers as the anthem begins to fade.

When Erdan looks over at her, tears are already slipping down his cheeks. "Me too."

Sadira doesn't know what to say, so she decides to just turn away and allow him some privacy. She had all but forgotten that somewhere in the arena Erdan still had someone from home, and no matter how awful she was, she's gone now. Sadira sinks down against the ground, pulling her arms around herself for warmth. She tries to think of how she can possibly apologize to Erdan, or even if she should bother at this point. She tries not to think of Rion tonight as she falls asleep, and how she will never have the opportunity to make it up to him either. Of course, like last night, Rion and his toothy smile visit her nightmares again. Sadira wonders if there will ever be a time that he won't.

Jayde isn't content to just sit around anymore. The longer she hides and the longer she allows the others to hide from her, the more time that she will have to spend in this horrible place. She is strong, she is smart, and she is ready. None of the others mean anything to her. They can't, not when there is so much at stake.

Jayde has been watching the pair for what feels like hours now, but she's patient. The boy is taller than her by a few inches, wider than her by several more. The girl is a bit smaller, but not by enough to make a big difference. She believes that she would be able to take either of them on alone but trying to take out a pair right now is a risk she is not stupid enough to take. The gun sits heavy in her palm, a knife swinging carefully from her belt just in case. She just needs to wait until they're alone or asleep- whichever comes first is fine with Jayde.

As she sits and waits, it's hard to decide whether the fog is a hindrance or a saviour. On the one hand, she is certain that they are not able to see her or else they would have tried to run or fight her already. On the other, it's hard to keep them in her sights- they almost disappear if she's just a couple of feet too far away. Twice already Jayde has had to double back, listening for footsteps or hushed voices to direct her back to them.

When the anthem came on, Jayde was irritated that none of the volunteers were shown. She wasted a bullet, nearly got caught by a couple of them, and no one even died. She knows that she hit one of the boys, but that's not enough. He has to die or it means nothing. Jayde won't let herself be so reckless this time; she has to make sure her shot is straight and her path away is clear. She doesn't know how many chances she is going to get.

Jayde presses herself between the trees when she sees the girl get up to leave. Her partner whispers something, but Jayde is too far away to pick it up. It doesn't matter anyways, because this is her chance. Jayde slinks down and waits, putting herself just off the path that the tribute is taking. As soon as she's close enough, Jayde will fire. The tribute won't even see her and she'll be gone before the boy even realizes what's happened. Then, later tonight, Jayde will come back for him.

She isn't going to blow this chance, not again.

Click.

Verdana hears the mechanical sound, but she can't decide where it's coming from. She stops quickly, scanning around her and wondering what it could have been? An animal? Unlikely. Another tribute? But how? Some kind of trap? That's the one that Verdana settles on.

"Levi," Verdana whispers, but she's certain he won't be able to hear her. She begins to back away, hearing a second hollow click and deciding that it has to be coming from her right. Verdana takes off to the left, all thoughts of her restroom trip far from her mind.

Jayde presses herself to her feet the second the tribute begins to run, swearing internally that she didn't check and see how many bullets were left in the weapon. Jayde tackles the girl to the ground, clamping her hand over her mouth in an effort to stop the scream she knows must be coming. Jayde grunts as she tries to free the knife from her belt, its blade ripping through the leather eventually to free itself.

Verdana tries to scream, but the sound is muffled by her attacker's hand. Her eyes go wide as Verdana claws at Jayde's hand, attempting to free herself from the grasp. Jayde's nails dig into her cheek, but Verdana can hardly feel it. All she does is stare at the girl's knife as it comes down at her, barely missing her neck as Verdana throws her head to the side.

Jayde is thrown off balance by Verdana's movement, but she fights to hold on knowing that a second tribute is not going to push the odds in her favour. Jayde gasps as Verdana bite down hard on her hand, forcing Jayde to release her mouth for just long enough to let out a blood-curdling scream.

"Levi!"

Verdana sits up as quickly as she can, stomping hard on Jayde's wrist in an attempt to force the tribute to drop her knife. Jayde whimpers but she doesn't allow her grip to slide. Instead, realizing that she is still clasping her empty gun in one hand, Jayde swings it at Verdana. She hears a loud crack and the pressure is released from her opposite hand. Jayde holds her wrist, trying to will the pain away but thankfully still holding both of her weapons.

Jayde has only taken a couple of steps before realizing that she hasn't heard a cannon. The second she turns around, however, she sees the girl's partner and realizes that he's coming straight for her.

Levi barely registers Verdana on the ground before he is running at the other girl. There isn't time to think about the other options- letting her run off, trying to help Verdana, anything but what he is currently doing. He tackles her to the ground, eliciting a grunt from both of them, but Levi doesn't know what to do from here. She hurt Verdana, his district partner might be dead, and that's wrong. These are the only thoughts that spin through his mind.

He should get up, run away, maybe try and save himself from this clearly very dangerous person, but he doesn't. Levi punches her right in the jaw, cringing as he hears a soft pop beneath his knuckles. Then, he punches her again in the same spot.

Jayde reaches up with her knife, but Levi blocks it with his forearm. Red drips down onto her face, but Jayde doesn't even care. Her initial assessment was correct, the boy is larger and stronger than she is, but Jayde isn't helpless. She refuses to give into this tribute and allow herself to even be hurt by him again. She isn't afraid, Jayde is furious.

"Fuck you," Jayde spits and Levi rips the knife out of her hand a second later.

As he tosses the blade over his shoulder, Levi gets another look at Verdana. She isn't moving, in fact from here he can't even tell if she is breathing right now. He looks back at the tribute beneath him, coldly breaking the gun away from her frantic grasp. Levi's face is expressionless as he tosses her gun to the side as well. Maybe it makes him a hypocrite to think this, but she's wrong. They shouldn't be hurting each other. Verdana shouldn't be unconscious in some hell forest. None of this should be happening right now.

"You're wrong," Levi whispers, reaching into his pocket. The gun is pointed at her face before Levi can even understand what he's doing. She killed Verdana. A kid who had nothing to defend herself with and couldn't have possibly done anything to this girl. Verdana is innocent. This girl is not. "You killed her."

Jayde spits in his face, but it just comes raining down back on her cheek. "You're no better."

Levi slams the gun down above her nose and pulls the trigger. He closes his eyes as something splatters across his face, regret flowing in when the cannon sounds almost immediately after. A metallic smell swirls in his nose and Levi throws himself off of the tribute, rubbing his face into the dirt to try and get rid of the scent. He opens his eyes and gags, seeing the streaks of red and grey slicing across the soil. Levi stumbles a couple of steps, unwilling to look back at what he just did. On the third step, he sinks to his knees and vomits over a scattering of dead leaves. Everything still smells like iron.

I killed her.

Levi heaves again, but this time nothing comes up. His entire body is shaking as he crawls towards where Verdana is lying. I'm a murderer. She's so still; he reaches out one shaky hand to touch her, but tears blur his vision until she all but disappears. She's dead. Levi's hand falls on her shoulder and tears drip down his nose onto her vest. I could have walked away. He brushes the tears out of his eyes and looks down at Verdana, a bruise already swelling on her temple. I killed her.

"V, come on," Levi gasps, wiping away more tears and gagging as red replaces the translucent drops. "Please, come on."

He's not sure if he imagines the fluttering of her eyelashes, but Levi begins to beg even harder. He shakes her shoulder, gently at first and then more frantically when he realizes that her chest is still rising and falling to the beat of her breaths. "V, please."

Verdana opens her eyes for a moment before squeezing them closed again, even the moonlight feeling too bright. Her heat is throbbing like a jackhammer against her skin and everything feels like it's spinning around her. She reaches up to touch the side of her head, but her arm feels like gelatin when she tries to lift it.

"V, can you hear me?"

Verdana turns her head to look at him, squinting to make the night feel not quite so bright. "Don't call me that."

18th: Capri Romano, District 3

17th: Jayde Cassidy, District 10

A/N: Apologies to the submitters that lost their tributes this chapter. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as we start to get back into some good old-fashioned death scenes. We have now lost a third of our tributes and that number is only going to keep climbing from here on out. It's painful for me after building such fun plotlines with each of them, but this is simply how these stories go.

If anyone is interested, I just started a collaboration story with JabberjayHeart that is now accepting submissions. It's an AU SYOT called The Art of War set in the very distant future where tributes now compete in district teams to win the crown. I'd love for you guys to check it out and tell us what you think!

~ Olive