Epilogue: Six Years Later

I feel like a china tea set again. Ready to break at any minute.

I'm not wearing my mother's dress. Instead, I opt for a dark red shirt and brown pants. No more lace for me. My knife is hidden in an inside pocket of my black jacket.

Wyss is dead. He was killed a year after my Games, in a mining accident. Coincidence? I think not. I know it's my fault that he's dead. I refused to play their little love game, and they killed him for it. But now there's no one left for them to torture. I haven't let myself get close to anyone again.

I watch the Games every year. Alone, at the controls that will send a silver parachute down to my apprentice. I've never pressed a single button on that console. Ironically, all of my tributes have died. That's not chance either.

They call me changed. I am. I was supposed to revel in my glory. Fall in love, have children. I have defied them. They will destroy me for it, but I welcome the threat. I survived once. I'll do it again. If I choose to.

Now Kirrah, uncannily unchanged from my Games, pulls out the name of my new tribute. I blink. Clove something. She's a small girl, but the light in her eyes and her smile are cold as a mountain. She turns those eyes on me as she comes up the steps.

The boy is called. There's a lot of clapping and cheering. And then we're ushered into the mayor's house. She looks up at me, expecting advice. I say only a few words. "If you hit them in their heart, they're gone for good."

The balcony doors close. No more sunlight.

No more hope.

She dies. For the first time in history, two tributes win. The Capitol laps up their love story. I can see right through it. He loves her, she is reluctant.

I watch the tour. I'm there when they read the speech at Two. I sit next to the girl at the banquet. She shovels down food like it's her last day on the earth.

The next Games are called. The Quarter Quell. The tributes will be picked from the victors. I feel cheated, but in a way, I see that this is my escape. I can die with glory. I can save someone from a horrible fate.

The uniform of death is back again. An old woman is picked first. Myna. And then come the volunteers. Enobaria practically gets in a fight with her former mentor, a large dark haired woman. I watch the whole time.

Finally, Enobaria wins. A smile on her face, she makes her way through the crowd. I see the tributes of Two in her. The way she walks, her head held high. Her smile, her teeth glittering in the sun. The way she's so confident, as if nothing can bring her down. Seventy-four tributes have walked off to the Games this way. And only thirteen have ever come back.

I can't let her die. She was my mentor. I can't watch her be slaughtered by some other experienced fighter. I can die this way. It's my ticket out. Maybe I'll die quickly. I hope so.

I raise my voice into the wind blowing fiercely in my face.

"I volunteer!"

(Yes, I know, Enobaria did go to the Games in the real book, but I am taking a creative license and changing it a bit. This also provides some intro into the second part of Ayla's story, being a District Thirteen rebel, provided that you want me to write it. Si o no?)

17: {Tour}

One

They look at me with contempt. I killed Carama. Not that she was going to win, but people think desperate things sometimes. Especially when their loved ones are in danger.

Three

I didn't know any of the tributes. They both died on the first day. Here, I get through my speech as quick as I can. They seem to want to get it over with too.

Four

I know more than anyone, that if not for me, Valzen would probably be standing here instead. I read my bit quickly, not making eye contact with anyone in the crowd. Before I leave, I see her family. The little boy stares at me with the same gray eyes and a little chill goes down my back. Those eyes will haunt me forever. I walk away quickly. Back on the train, I finger her knife. I have to stop thinking of it as "her" knife. It's mine now.

Five

I don't know much about them. I remember seeing the boy in training. He was fumbling around with the bows and arrows, but I don't say anything about that.

Six

The food here is good. That's all I remember. I don't really want to think about the rest. The boy who was eaten by the birds was named Omay. I feel guilty for not knowing his name until now.

Seven

I killed the girl from this district. But it was not out of malice. It was pity. Well, partly anyway. They seem to understand. I tell them that she was an excellent archer, and that her arrows took out many of the mutt birds. Her name was Lell.

Eight

The girl from 8 died in the bird attack. She was the second to fall. I feel like I should say something profound, but I finish my speech with a dry "Thank you."

Nine

This district is the worst. Kirwan and Thella. They're everywhere. In the looks of the crowd, in the eyes of their families. I've prepared a bit at the end for each of them, but it doesn't seem to do them justice. Thella first. "Thella was....well, she was one step removed from an angel. She was wonderful, and kind, and sweet. I never heard her say anything bad about a single person. I wish....I wish that she had never had to face these Games. I wish that she could have grown old and had a wonderful life." It sounds horribly rehearsed. But those words are the truth. Now Kirwan. I clear my throat. "I have only one thing to say about Kirwan. He was....he was beautiful. Thank you." I have to turn away to keep all of Panem from seeing my tears.

Ten

The girl from this district tried to kill me. I mutilated her hand. And that is that. So, the people of District Ten are not fans of Ayla Cetteras.

Eleven

I watched these tributes get murdered before my own eyes. I tried to save them, but I could not. The girl saved my life, though. She told me to run. To run before she burst into flames. I say all this, and I can see the tears in the eyes and on the cheeks of the crowd. I tell them that she would have made a wonderful ally. What I don't tell them is that her burned face will be in my dreams forever.

Twelve

This one passes in a blur. People in Twelve are not hopeful for their tributes. Hope is long gone from this gray place.

Two

This is supposed to be my greatest pride. I have won. I am their tribute, their victor. I will have to mentor the new tributes next year, and after that, and that, and that, until one of my pupils survives to take my place. There is applause. Thunderous applause. But I've learned that most applause is not good. Looking out over my district, I know that there will be hard times ahead. There will be Wyss. There will be food and drink and songs and parties that last for three days. But there will also be nightmares. There will be seeing fresh new children slaughtered each year. There will be waking up to an empty bed beside me. Because I have made my decision. There will be no marriage for me. No children. I cannot run the risk of giving life to someone who could so easily be killed before they can go to work. Before they fall in love. And now, I have to hold the tears back, because Panem wants to see someone who is victorious on their television screens. Not a wounded, broken girl.

Thirteen

The image on the screen freezes. The face of the victor, her red hair tousled by the wind, her face covered in makeup, delivering a speech to her district like a martyr's death words.

Boots clunk on the floor as the man gets up from his chair and walks towards the screen. When he gets there, he stops, turns, and points to the image.

"You may not want someone from District Two, but I want her."

The woman nods. "It will be arranged."

16: {Victor}

I'm covered in blood. Mine and Valzen's and Kirwan's. Staining my legs and my arms and my hair and my face. I'm bathed in it.

Her body is below me. Her gray eyes are still open, but the light is gone from them. I keep glancing back to make sure that she is still dead. That she doesn't rise up with another smile and a flick of her hair.

It takes me a while to see the hovercraft over me. Its only when the light shines down that I look up into the depths of the machine. The ladder slides down. I comply without a thought, placing my hands on it. My right one is still clutching the knife. I don't let it go. I can't, and that's not because of the current.

When I am lifted up, people in white uniforms surround me. They are telling me something, something that I don't hear because my mind is speeding at a thousand miles an hour. Kirwan, Valzen, the girl from 10, District 11, Carama, the birds, Ebb, Thella.

"Ayla, we're going to need you to let go of the knife," a woman says. "Ayla? Ayla, can you hear me?"

I can. But I can't let this go. I need something to hold on to, or I'll go spinning into insanity. "I can't," I say. "I need it."

"Ayla, let go. Please don't make us use-"

"No! Can't you understand? I need it to keep myself alive!"

"Ayla, you're going to be fine." Kirwan's words. She says something else, but I'm not listening anymore. I have to get out of here. I have to get out. I start to scream hysterically. I don't know what comes out of my mouth, but pure noise would not be the answer. I scream at everyone. Valzen, my mother, my father. Ebb. The Capitol. District 2.

Then there's the prick of a needle and I slip into unconsciousness.

I don't let go of the knife.

Maybe everything would be better if I stayed this way. With soft blankets covering me and the morphling in my system. It would be so much easier to cope.

But they won't let me. Already I feel my euphoria draining away. I try to sleep. It's easy.

So easy.

Enobaria visits me in my room. I want someone near. I want to put my arms around her neck and sob.

But that is a weakness. And Enobaria does not allow weakness. So instead, I sit up and give her a wounded smile. "Hello," I say. My voice is scratchy and horrible and distant and I sound like, well, like I've just come out of the Games.

"You did good out there," she says. She lays something on my table. It's Valzen's knife. I don't know how she got it back.

She leaves me alone again.

Coyra dresses me in the outfit I will wear to face Panem. To see a recap of the Games.

It's beautiful. A dress made of soft red silk that cuts a dramatic neckline that is low but not too low. It stops a few inches before my knees. My body is waxed and shaved again. My makeup is drastic as well. My eyes are lined in black, and then in red. My lips are painted the same color, and my entire face is covered in a powder that makes my skin seem clear and smooth.

Because Panem does not want to see a tribute. They want to see a victor.

The lights are blinding. The applause is deafening. The audiance is on their feet, screaming their lungs out. But I feel hollow inside.

They don't know what it feels like. To be inches away from your death. To have someone that you love ripped away from you with the whistle of a knife. A knife that now rests under my pillow. These people. How can you do this to us?

Caesar greets me with a hug. I return it only because I have to. But if I had it my way, Valzen's knife would find it's way into his back.

We watch the replay. It focuses on me, mostly, but Valzen and Kirwan are included as well. I see Ebb's death. She killed him from behind. No chance. And then Kirwan's death. They don't show anything but me rushing to him, and then him telling me that I will be fine. Telling me to win. The Capitol has no room for love. They play Valzen's death in full. Every single bit of it. They end with me standing over her, soaked in blood, with her knife.

There is cheering. There is celebration. There are screams of my name.

Caesar asks me a few more questions, which I answer with the voice of someone who is composed and perfect. Even though that is far from true.

And then it's over.

I want to go home.

15: {Valzen}

The blood and tears and sadness hangs thick around me like a fog.

Kirwan is resting. He's just resting, and sooner or later he'll wake up. But I know that's not true. Because I'm covered in his blood and there's a gash in his chest over his heart. And a hovercraft has appeared over us. I will not move. I will stay with him.

But I promised him that I'd win. I promised that I'd kill Valzen. I look down at him. He could be asleep. He could wake up any minute. But I have to leave him. But not without him keeping a piece of me. I pull my stone heart out of my pocket and press it into his hand, curling his fingers around it. "Don't lose it," I say softly. "Don't lose my heart."

I lay him gently on the ground. The hovercraft lifts him up, and I watch him go. I don't feel anything anymore. Nothing but rage and fury. I pick up Valzen's knife. 3/4 of a foot long. The blade is flat on one side and curved in a vicious pattern on the other. The handle is wrapped with black leather.

My only weapon. Even if I still had my boomerang, this is the only weapon that will end her life. The only thing that I will let kill her.

I run after Valzen, through the forest. Faster than the wind. Like a bullet. I know she's waiting for me. Waiting with a cold smile and another knife.

So when I emerge into another clearing, I'm not surprised to find her there. I wait for her to speak first. We stare at each other for a while before she talks.

"So this is it," she says. "This won't be too hard."

"You'd be surprised." I say through clenched teeth. I'm squeezing the knife in my hand so hard that the leather on the handle starts to dig into my skin. Valzen laughs. "Look at you. Bruised and bleeding. Heartbroken because I killed your little boyfriend. That's why I don't let myself care. Caring gets you hurt. And I'm not one to invite pain."

She's right. I'm sore and cut and wish I could die, but I cannot. I have to live, to keep my promise to Kirwan. I watch her, and she watches me. Her long black hair is pulled into a high ponytail. I don't want to know what she's using to keep it up. She looks to be in perfect condition, no cuts or scrapes at all.

I run at her. She smiles, as if she's been expecting it. She brings her knife up at the last second and blocks my slash. She feints at me, then goes for my left arm and cuts a bright streak across it. The pain burbles up, but I take advantage of her swing and counter with a swipe across her cheek. She spins around me, but I'm there, ready to kill.

"Not so bad," she says, raising one eyebrow. Then she strikes out again. This time I see it coming and swing my knife up to counter her. She brings her other arm forward to punch me, but I shield myself just in time.

She tries it again, and again. We are locked in a combination of sparring with knives and arms. She kicks me in the shins, and I go down. She bends over me, breathing hard and laughing. I aim my knife at her ankle and dig it in deep. She falls away, howling, and I pull it out and get up after her.

We battle with our knives and our bodies, both of us suffering blows from legs and arms and cuts from blades. Finally, she knocks me away and runs for it. I chase after her, through the trees and the snow, now stained with our blood.

She is pulling away. Across the clearing she turns back to smile at me. "Do you think you could catch me? Do you think you could kill me? You are nothing, Ayla Cetteras. Nothing."

"Liar," I whisper, and pull my arm back. She laughs, a cold laugh that chills me. "Go ahead. Try to hit me. I bet you can't make it across this clearing. And I've never lost a bet."

"Well, now's the time to start," I yell, and send the knife flying.

It strikes her in the heart.

Her gray eyes go wide.

If you hit them in the heart, they're gone for good.

She drops to the ground.

A cannon booms.

I walk over to her, almost in a dream, and pull the knife out of her chest.

I stand over her as Claudius Templesmith's voice fills the stadium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the victor of the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games, Ayla Cetteras!"

14: {Promise Me}

The cannon booms. I pick up my head.

"Was that-?" I ask.

"Yeah, it was," Kirwan says.

"Which means-"

"I know," he cuts me off. He hasn't been looking so well. Ever since yesterday, when Carama and the boy from 4 died, he's been quieter and distant. He does a lot of hunting. I come with him, but it isn't the same when we're out in the forest trying hard not to make a sound.

And now one of the Careers is dead. And there's only us three left. Our allegiance should have dissolved a long time ago. In fact, it shouldn't have even begun. I look up at him. He's skinning a squirrel with vigor. I watch his hands move along the length of the animal's body. He should have done that to me a long time ago. Killed me and taken my supplies. Why not?

I've been battered and bruised. My wounds from the birds are aching again, my burn from the mutt's blood has not gotten better, and my head still spins sometimes as a result of the attack by the girl from 10. My hands are bandaged and bloody. I have only one weapon. I am a trainwreck. Why would he keep me, especially since there are only three of us left?

I ask him. "Kirwan, why didn't you kill me?" He looks up at me but doesn't say anything. "You should have let me die when I crawled up from the cliff. And taken my supplies. Why not? I should be home in a pine box by now."

He puts the squirrel down and wipes his hands on his clothes. He comes over and sits next to me. I'm drawing a map of the arena on the rock with dirt and my finger. I've got the Cornucopia down, and the sites of where I've stayed as close as I can measure. He leans his head on my shoulder. A little shiver runs down my spine, but I don't say anything.

There's a long silence before he speaks. "I didn't kill you because I've seen you fight. I watched you when the training was going on. I watched you at the Cornucopia. You didn't become a Career. You chose to play on your own terms instead. That's why."

"Okay," I say, even though I know there's more, and leave it at that.

In the afternoon, I announce the idea that's been buzzing in my head all day. "We need to kill her."

"Who?" he asks.

"Valzen. We need to kill her. After that, there's only us left."

"Ayla, we don't even know if it's Valzen who is still out there or not. It could be Ebb. There's a 50/50 chance that it's him."

"No," I say, looking out over the forest. "The odds are in her favor. They always have been." I think of Valzen, of her gray eyes: cold and unfeeling. I get up and stretch out my arms and legs. "What are you doing?" Kirwan asks.

"I'm going after her," I say. "You can come with me if you want or not." I pull out my boomerang: my only weapon that remains besides my bare fists and teeth. He gets up. "Wait for me, Ayla." He grabs his spear and runs to catch up to me, because I'm already running down the slope of the mountain. We don't even stop to put out the fire, because we both know that we aren't coming back.

At the bottom of the mountain, he puts his hand on my shoulder to stop me. "What?" I whisper. "Did you see her?" He doesn't respond through words. Instead, he pulls me to him and kisses me full on the lips. After a while, we pull away. I stare at him, aware that the cameras are probably focused on us. "That's why I didn't kill you."

We move through the woods silently, towards the sound of the cannon. My heart and head are still pounding with Kirwan's kiss. We reach a spot that I recognize. It's the clearing with the ferns that I rested in after being attacked by the lion-snake.

We sit down by the banks of the little brook. He runs his hands through the water, now completely clear again. He and I don't say anything. We both know the truth. I will have to kill him, or him me if our plan succeeds. The Gamemakers don't care for love.

It's quiet, and for a minute, I can pretend that we're sitting in the woods, free of cameras and a bloodthirsty tribute and the thousands of viewers in the Capitol and the Districts. Free of the Capitol.

I drink from the river, putting my head down into the river. I wash the mud from my bright hair. I don't need to be camouflaged anymore. Finally he speaks. "Do you remember your outfit on the opening night?"

"How can I forget?" I laugh,.

"They painted you white," he says thoughtfully. "You were beautiful."

And then the knife flicks out of the shadows and plunges deep into his chest.

I'm not sure if it's me who is screaming, or him. All I know is that I whirl around to catch a glimpse of a cold smile and gray eyes before Valzen steps back into the woods. I whip my boomerang at her, but my aim is unsteady and it goes careening into the woods. I know it won't return to me.

I turn back to Kirwan. He lies on his back, his left hand floating in the brook, still playing with the water. I leap over to him and take him in my arms. The knife thrown by Valzen sticks out of his left side, over his heart. The words of the knife-throwing trainer come back to me. If you hit them in the heart, they're gone for good.

I find my voice through my tears. I'm crying, crying like a child and calling his name. "Kirwan. Kirwan. Don't die. Please, I need you. I need you."

His copper eyes find mine. "No, Ayla," he says, blood coming from his mouth. "You're gonna be fine. You can survive without me. It's amazing how much a person can survive without." He starts to shiver in my arms. I pull the knife out and lay it on the side.

Blood. There's so much. A red color that stands out against his dark clothes. I can't see much through my tears. "Kirwan. Please," I whisper. I press my forehead to his. "Don't leave me." Blood is staining my clothes now. His blood. There's so much of it.

"I have to, Ayla," he says softly. I can barely hear him anymore.

"No," I say, and kiss him, as if that can bring him back to me. My ally, my friend, my love. The love that was cut short by the knife of one without.

"Ayla. Promise me. Promise me you'll win."

"I-I promise. I love you."

"I love you too." His eyes are starting to glaze over. "Ayla."

"Yes?"

"You were so pretty. So beautiful. When they painted you white."

"I know."

"Ayla?"

"What?"

Silence. "Kirwan? What?"

"You're going to be fine."

Then he's gone.

13: {Allegiance}

I seem to be waking up to pain a lot these days. Like an old friend, it's back to greet me. But with it is warmth and something soft on me. Opening my eyes is easy, surprisingly. I take in as much as I can. A little fire, a blue sky and tan stone. That's all I can manage.

"Ayla," someone says. I think for a minute that maybe it's my bother, but then it clicks and I realize where I am. "Ayla," the person says again. "Ayla, are you awake?" His face comes into my view. It's Kirwan. He didn't kill me after all. But that's no reason to trust him. I reach for my sword before I remember that it went over the cliff.

"Hey," he says, sensing my distress. "I saved you. No need for weapons. Anyway, if you want it, I've got your boomerang right here." He holds it up. I sit up, ignoring my little friend extreme pain, and reach for it. He gives it to me and I take it quickly, stroking it, making sure there's no damage done. "I found it in the water, lodged under a rock, and I assumed it was yours. I guess I was right."

I realize that this is time for a thank you. "Thanks," I croak, then cough. "Oh, do you want some water?" Kirwan asks. I clear my throat. "Sure. But you know what would be great? Tea." Right on cue, a silver parachute drops in front of my face. I clumsily open it to find...tea. Six packets of it. "Great," I say. I look back up. "Some dynamite would be great, too, if you can spare it!" As is expected, no silver parachute appears. Kirwan laughs. "Worth a shot," he says. "But then, they wouldn't give us anything that could be used against them."

"What do you mean?" I ask, interested. He takes a tea packet and starts to heat up water over the small fire. "Nothing," he says. "Just something I was thinking about."

"Okay." I don't pry. Just sit up and rub down my muscles. Without speaking, we've come to an agreement. We are allies, at least for a little. while. After the tea is done, I ask what I've missed. "Not much," he says. "You were out for a day, though. That girl that you pushed off the cliff died, obviously, so District 10's out. The guy from District 1 and 8 are dead too. I think they killed each other."

"Let's hope the rest do that too," I said. "That's a couple less to worry about."

In the afternoon, I'm ready to get out of this place. At the beginning of the Games, Kirwan found this shelter. It's a shallow cave, actually it's more like a ledge, that he surrounded with boulders to keep out other tributes. The wind on the mountain takes the smoke from his fire and disposes of it quickly, so he--or, we, don't need to worry about being discovered from the smoke.

Kirwan's gone hunting. He says he'll be back soon, so I set out to take stock of our supplies. I have my boomerang, and he has a few spears and a few lengths of rope. He's done hunting before I joined up with him, so his catch adds to my crackers and cheese to make a good amount of food. I have my medicine kit, he has an extra blanket that he lends me. When it gets dark outside, I wrap myself up in a blanket and wait for him to come back.

A few hours later, he's nowhere to be found and I feel stupid just sitting around. I get up, douse the fire, take my boomerang, and head down the mountain by the use of a path that goes behind the waterfall.

The woods are dark and silent. I don't dare to call out his name: I don't know if anyone's near me. Tensions are rising among the Careers and they're bound to shoot anything that moves without bothering to see who it is.

I hear voices, and I flatten against a tree. It's not Kirwan. It sounds like a girl instead. The District 1 female. I can remember Kirwan calling her Carama. He said that at first, the Careers wanted him to join up with them after they had seen his skills with the spear. The boy with her isn't Kirwan or Ebb, so it must be the one from 4.

They're obviously looking for someone. I hear Carama speak first. "She has to be around here somewhere. Ebb said he heard her run this way." They're talking about me. I keep absolutely still and breathe quietly. Next, the boy says something. "Yeah, well, Ebb's judgement isn't something to trust right now, is it?"

"What do you mean?" Carama asks.

"I mean that ever since Valzen hit him in the head because he tried to stop Scall and Illan from fighting, he's been a little off." He laughs a little bit, but she doesn't say anything. Valzen must be the cold-eyed girl from 4. Finally, she answers him. "Maybe your judgement isn't something to trust, either."

"Why not? I'm just as sane as--" But I don't get to hear how sane he is, because there's the thwing of a bowstring, and then a cannon. There goes the boy from District 4. Carama laughs now, a half-crazed sound. The sound echoes through the forest, and suddenly I can't take it anymore. I jump out from behind the tree. Carama is standing over the body, her head tilted back, her long brown hair flowing in the light breeze.

I throw my boomerang. It slices through her stomach, and she chokes, then goes down. The boomerang zooms back to my hand, and the cannon tolls again. "You died laughing," I whisper to her. "You died beautiful. You don't deserve it."

I walk away as the hovercars appear to take the tributes away. I count on my fingers. Two more tributes gone. That means twenty dead. Four left: me, Kirwan, Ebb, and Valzen.

Suddenly, I'm tackled from behind. I start to make a sound, but a hand covers my mouth. "It's me," Kirwan whispers in my ear. I tell him to get off me, but it comes out as a muffled sound. "I ran into the Careers," he continues. "They never saw who I was, but they're coming after me. I think I lost them, though." He gets up and dusts himself off. He offers me his hand, and I take it and heave myself up. "What happened here?" he asks, looking back at the hovercars circling. "I mean, how did they die?"

"That was the boy from 4 and the girl from 1." I explain. "They were talking about how Ebb had been it in the head by Valzen, and then Carama killed him. And then she stood there laughing. And as she was, I took my boomerang and killed her."

"Good thinking," he says. "Get them while they're distracted. Now there's only two of them left. Good job, Ayla." In spite of myself, I swell with his praise. I even blush a little, and I pray that he can't see me in this darkness. "We'd better get out of here," I say. "Valzen and Ebb will be coming to see who died." We head off, back to the cliff, with the silent whirring of hovercars behind us.

12: {Cliff}

The pain is the first thing I feel. My wounds from the birds are throbbing, spreading fire through my veins. The birds' beaks must have poison in them. My first attempt to move rekindles the fire, and my body is ablaze with pain. Numbly, I roll over and reach for my medicine pack. I open it up, barely seeing a thing, and find a bottle of the liquid.

I hope this works. I unscrew the cap on the bottle and pour the mixture down my throat. Instead of relief, I add more fuel to the fire. For a minute, maybe two, I lie there, unable to utter the screams that reverberate inside my skull for fear of being heard.

After a while, the fire dies down to leave me feeling better than when I woke up. I hold the bottle up to my eyes. I guess that worked. I repack the bottle, along with my trainwreck of a hammock, take a few more sips of water and bites of the cheese and crackers, and work my way slowly down the tree. My joints ache, and they are stiff, just like yesterday. I check my supplies. I need more water, and I don't trust the snow that lies so temptingly around me.

I remember the brook I splashed through in my haste to escape the lion-snake mutt and decide to head that way. I take my bearing from the sun and my tracks, and head off in that direction.

When I reach the brook. I'm disappointed. It's been stained and dirtied with some sort of oil. I certainly can't drink that, it looks too much like the lion-snake's blood. Maybe the water will be clearer farther up. I heave my pack on my back and continue on.

I pass the site of the deaths of the District 11 tributes. There is nothing here, not even blood on the snow, to suggest that human beings perished in this spot. When these Games are over, this arena will be turned into a vacation spot for Capitol families. They'll be able to visit the sites of all the deaths, even reenact some of them. That's their idea of a great vacation.

I look up at the sky. There are cameras all around the arena, and even though they're probably elsewhere now, I feel like screaming to them. Is this how you treat us? Like animals to be slaughtered? This is your idea of entertainment? But of course I don't. Because those words would get me killed faster than you can shout "traitor!"

The farther up I go, the less trees and cover there is for me. I've followed the brook up as it becomes a wide river, and then a pool with a large waterfall reaching up into the sky. I look over into the sky. Dead fish float around. This pool is clearly contaminated, but the top of the waterfall looks fine. Time for my area of expertise.

I approach the wall next to the waterfall and find a good foothold. I heave myself up, one foot and hand at a time, until I finally reach the top. There is a good space, with another slope a little ways in front of me, a cliff to my left, beyond the medium sized river that makes the waterfall, and a mess of boulders and shrubs to my right.

I drag myself over to the water and run my hands in it. They are scratched and bruised from my climb, and the water feels cooling on them. I sigh, then bury my whole face in it, drinking in the water. I resurface for air and dry my face on my clothes.

Just as I'm wiping my hands on my pants, I hear it. The crack and rolling of stones. I whirl around, my sword drawn, to glare into the eyes of the girl from 10. She isn't a big girl, but her size is accentuated by the huge sword that she's holding. My weapon looks like a dagger next to it. Her hair is matted and burned, and her face is dirty with mud. She has a crazy smile on her face, and I can see why. Because she's about to send me to my death.

I attack first, running at her. Surprised, she counters, pushing me back into the water. I stumble and fall over a stone, hitting my head with a crack on a rock. Dizzy and spluttering, I get up. I'm starting to see double. "This'll be easy enough," she grins. "I thought you District Two tributes were supposed to be good fighters." She slashes at me, but with a quick jump, I sidestep her and go on the offensive, clanging blades with her.

She pushes me back farther into the water, until I'm standing on the other bank and she's still coming towards me. I look back, just for a second. The cliff is dangerously close to my feet. I run at her, and manage to get a good slash across her chest before she flicks my sword out of my hand. It skitters backwards and over the cliff. Gone for good.

"Pull-ease," she says. "That all you got?" She advances again, and I feel my mind going. I can't see clearly now, everything's a blur except her face and the shiny weapon in her grasp. I lunge myself at her, my fist somehow making contact with her ear. She howls and shoves me back. I tumble, putting my foot down for contact with the ground, but instead I feel air. I fall down the cliff a few feet before catching hold of a handhold with a wrench of my shoulder. Pain screams at me again, and blackness starts to seep back into my vision.

She's laughing now. Maybe that's the last thing I'll hear. She raises her sword, ready to cut off my hands and send me hurtling down, but instead it's her who goes down. She falls past me, screaming, and somehow finds a spot a foot or so below me. I look down, but the height is dizzying and I can't see straight.

Back up. Someone is standing over me again. It's not the girl. I recognize the copper-gold eyes. Kirwan. Has he come to kill us both? I don't have time to think on it, because there's a tugging on my right ankle. The girl from 10 is hanging on for dear life, her feet swinging away from the cliff. She's screaming something, but all I can think about is if I don't get her off me, we'll both go down. It's either me or her.

I take my hand away from the cliff and go for my boomerang. But it's gone. Has it fallen down the cliff or did it fall out in the river. I don't have time. My other hand is slipping. I grab a rock from the edge of the cliff. Reaching down, I bash it as hard as I can into the tribute's hand. She screams again, louder, but I pound the rock over and over into her until she's broken and bleeding.

She looks up at me eventually with pleading eyes. I gaze back. "I am a fighter," I say, and send the rock flying right on her head. She falls away, almost in slow motion, and everything goes fuzzy for me. All I can do is drag myself up. Up, up, up until I lie on the ground and someone picks me up by the shoulders. The pain connects, and I scream, but that takes the rest of my energy.

I slump into blackness, hoping that somehow, Kirwan will keep me alive.

11: {The Birds}

An hour later, I've made my way farther into the woods, going parallel to the Cornucopia. I haven't seen anyone so far, but I'm willing to bet they're out there.

Snow has been falling lightly for a while. I pull the collar of my coat up over my neck and shiver. What I really need is a scarf, to keep the cold from my neck and chin. I allow myself a drink from the canteen. My water is running low, and I need to find more. I can survive for weeks without food, but not water. I scoop up some snow and pack it into my water. It's probably dirtied with mud, but I'm not about to turn down anything at this point.

My arm has started to ache again. I sit down near the spreading roots of a tree and open up my bandage. Most of the redness has gone away, but the itching is terrible. I scratch once, but that only makes it worse. I spare a little more ointment, but I know I need to keep it for more severe wounds. I pack up again and head out.

I walk a little ways further before I decide to stop for the night. It's not dark out yet, but I've already had a long and scarring day. I scale a tree to try to make a hammock. I've seen that work for others in previous games. Before I can attempt sleep, however, a sound wakes me up. The chirping of birds. Birds? An excellent source of prey. I climb back down with my sword and boomerang weapon, leaving my supplies secured in the tree.

I follow the sound through the woods. I finally sight a nest high up in a tree. Excellent. I begin to climb a nearby tree before I realize I'm not the only person to find the birds. Two tributes have gathered below, and it's clear that they aren't friends. The girl, that I remember is from 8, starts towards the tree with the birds. The boy from 6 sends a knife through her thigh. She lets out a yell and runs towards him. I watch as she attacks him with spikes on her fingers. There is a lot of yelling, and up in the tree, the nest starts to sway from side to side.

I climb quietly back down the tree. This would be the perfect time to kill them both, but an arrow whizzing by my head distracts me. I look around, and see the girl from 7 standing in the shadows. I reach for my boomerang to send her to her death, but I'm interrupted again by the bird calls.

I whip around, and see the birds from the nest dive-bombing the fighting tributes. They don't look like harmless prey. They are a bright purple color, with streamlined bodies and yellow beaks that come to a needle sharp point. These aren't birds. These are mutts.

The girl from 8 and the boy from 6 have noticed them alright, since one of them has already speared the girl through the neck. A cannon sounds, and that is my cue to start launching my boomerang into the thick of them.

The boy from 6 is waving his knives around, trying to take out one of them, but they're too fast, flitting and darting away from him. Arrows from the District 7 tribute are aiding us, but still, there's too many. Even as I send my weapon again and again into the thick of them, they whiz past me, poking me with their sharp beaks. I can feel two direct hits already.

Finally, the boy from 6 falls to the ground and his cannon booms. That leaves twice as many birds for me to deal with. I take out my sword and start slashing at as many as I can reach.

The other tribute, from 7, is out of arrows. I hear her scream behind me and turn to see one of his eyes missing, the other one having been gobbled down by a bird. I see that most of the birds have settled next to the two bodies of the others and started to feast. I throw my boomerang at the girl from 7. It slices through her heart, and before she can hit the ground, the cannon tolls again.

The birds seem to be satisfied. I slay the few remaining that are circling, and then all is quiet, except for the sound of chomping beaks and scratching talons. I flee from them, not even turning to see whether or not I'm being chased. Running through the snow that is now falling in earnest, back to my tree. I climb the branches, and only when I've reached the top do I allow myself to hurt.

The birds have hit me in four places that are severe. Two in my left calf, one in my right hip, and one glancing off my left hand. I spread paste over all the places and bandage them up. The paste doesn't do much except numb the pain a bit, and I know that in the morning, it will be back in earnest. I close the cap on the paste. There's not much left, and I hope beyond hope that I won't need anymore.

I construct a makeshift hammock out of my blanket and settle down. I judge it to be around 11 o'clock, and it should be time for the faces now. There are six in the sky tonight. The boy from 3 is first, followed by the victims of the birds, the boy from 6, and the girls from 7 and 8. The last to appear are the boy and girl from 11. I study the girl's face, trying to match it with the mangled visage that was my last glimpse of her.

I close my eyes, but sleep will not come to me. So I think of other things. I think of my mother, and father. Of Wyss' smile, and the river where I found my token. My token! I pull it out of my pocket and run my hands over it's surface. I can't see it in the darkness, but I feel the contours of it's heart shape.

In the darkness, there is suddenly a light in the distance. It must be the Careers, I think sleepily. No one else will be so foolish as to start a fire in this darkness. Even though I can't hear anything from that direction, I imagine their celebrations.

"Only nine left," I can hear them crow in my mind. "Only nine left to play!"

10: {The Second Day}

It's still dark out when I wake up. The shouts and screams have faded away, though I know that the Careers will still be on the move.

I sit up, and move my limbs to warm them up. It's freezing cold, as it must be during the nights, and though the blanket is warm, it's not warm enough to keep me from becoming stiff. I'll have to find some other way to keep the cold away.

After I rub my legs and arms, I eat a few crackers and take my boomerang to go out hunting. When I emerge from my bush, the sun is coming up over the mountains, turning the woods golden. A light dusting of snow has fallen overnight. I go hunting again, this time scaling trees in search of bird's nests. I find a few, and carry the eggs back down to my shelter.

A cannon startles me out of my relaxed state. I prick up my head, and that's when I realize my problem. My hair. It's always been a flaming red, and that's bad for camouflage. I scrape away the snow from the ground and spit on the brown earth. I work the dirt into a mud, adding my saliva as needed. When I've got a good bunch, I smear the mud onto my hair, working it from my roots to my tips, like a shampoo.

When I'm satisfied, I pack up my bag, loading the food in on the top and putting the boomerang into it's sling over my shoulder, and my sword (without the sheath) in my belt. I spread snow over my tracks in the bush, hoist the pack onto my back, and head off in the direction of mountain.

My objective is to find the Careers. And kill them, one by one. I know that they must be going after the remaining tributes, myself included. My only problem is that I don't know any of their other allies. Has Kirwan joined up with them? It seems like a good allegiance, at least for Ebb and the rest.

My thoughts are interrupted by voices. I drop silently to the ground and roll behind a fallen tree. The underbrush has become more sparse the higher I go. Which means less room for cover. The voices get louder. I pull my boomerang from it's sheath, ready to throw. But I listen first. There are two voices: a boy's and a girl's.

"D'you think they'll come after us?" That's the girl.

"Yeah," the boy says. "You think they're just going to let us go free? After you threw that stone at Illan's hand? I bet most of his fingers are broken." It must be the two tributes from District 11. I remember seeing the girl picking up stones from the ground and launching them at whoever came near her. She's pretty young, maybe twelve or thirteen.

Now she laughs. "His allies aren't going to be happy about that." Their footsteps stop. "Did you hear that?" asks the boy. "Yes," she whispers. "I wonder-" And then there's a loud roar and screams. Getting closer. I get up, my heart pounding, and scan the woods for the two tributes. But I see the mutt first.

It's hideous. It's body is proportioned like a giant cat, but it's head is all wrong. A snake-like head, complete with slitted pupils and four foot long fangs. And the whole creature is a mottled gray-white color. So it blends in with the mountain and the snow, I realize. It's sitting on top of a huge boulder, waving it's head back and forth, as if choosing between the two tributes. I realize with a gut-wrenching twist that the boy's arm is mangled horribly and smoke is sizzling off of the wound. The girl stares, horrified, into the gray eyes of the mutt.

With one quick flick of my wrist, my boomerang flies towards the creature, cutting through leaves and branches as it goes. It hits the thing square on the shoulder and embeds itself there. The mutt's head turns in my direction, and it hisses. It crouches, ready to pounce, when, WHACK, a good sized stone hits it in the eye.

The girl from 11 is the cause of the stone. Her partner has long since fallen to the ground, blood leaking from his arm, turning the snow beneath him red. His cannon sounds, and I leap over the log, my sword drawn, and run towards the creature, which is advancing on the scared girl. I slash at the mutt's back leg, drawing black blood that sizzles when it hits the snow. I duck to avoid the sprays of blood pouring from the beast.

It turns it's face to me, and spits. I drop to the ground, and the gob of green flies over me, hitting a tree, the trunk of which begins to smoke. The tribute from 11 has regained her sense, and is whacking the creature over and over with her friend's club, which is at least half her size.

The mutt, bruised, wounded, and thoroughly annoyed at my survival, snakes it's head around in a split second and spits at the girl. It hits her square in the face, and she starts to scream her head off, falling away from it. The mutt leaps on top of her, but I'm there first, swinging my sword down to chop it's head off. It falls to the ground, one of it's paws still around the girl from 11.

I run to her side, but it's clearly too late. She twitches and writhes, but there's nothing I can do. Half of her face has been burned away by the mutt's deadly spit, and her remaining eye is bloody. The rest of the skin on her face is a bright red. She whispers something, and as I lean my head in, I can catch one last word. "Run."

I heed her bidding, sprinting from the clearing. At the last second, I remember my boomerang, and rush back. In the few seconds that I've left her, the entire tribute's remains have turned a burning scarlet. I pull the boomerang out of the mutt with a squelch, and take off. Behind me, there is an explosion, and a column of fire spurts into the air where the girl's body should have been. The cannon booms, and I see two hovercraft materialize to take the bodies of the tributes of District 11 home for the last time.

I run and run through the forest, fleeing from the mountains that I thought would provide me shelter. The fire is sure to have alerted the Careers to the spot, and sooner or later they'll come crashing through the woods to find any survivors. That would be me.

I reach a small brook, and splash through the water. On the other side, I find a clearing covered in ferns. I flop down among them and wait. A few hours later, I let myself sit up and collect myself. I have a few slashes across my face from the branches, but they'll heal. My sword arm is not so lucky. Some of the blood of the mutt must have grazed me somehow, because there is a shiny burn on my right shoulder. I take out my medicine kit, wincing, and slather some of the paste over it. There is instant relief. I bandage my arm and set about having breakfast. Or, lunch by now.

I eat 1/3 of the bread, along with some cheese and crackers. I've kept the rabbit and the eggs for tonight's dinner. Speaking of, I should get moving again. I don't want the Careers to catch me. I get up and move on.

No rest for the weary, and all that.

9: {Bloodbath}

We have sixty seconds until the gong tolls and the bloodbath begins. I scan the arena to take in as much as I can. The twenty-four tributes are arranged around the Cornucopia, and the weapons and packages of food are scattered around.

This part of the arena is situated in a valley around several mountains, small and large. I'm facing the biggest one, with the smaller ones behind me. The tops of the larger mountains are covered in snow, and there are patches of forest on them as well. There's no snow in the immediate area, but it's still pretty cold as it is.

Sixty seconds to decide what to go for first. I know that the other Careers won't bother me, because I'm on their side. What I should really do is get a good weapon and then go after the weaker tributes. But before I can settle on an idea, the gong sounds.

I'm off like a bullet. Faster than the wind. I was the top runner in my class. I streak straight for the golden horn, tumbling briefly so I can pick up a few packets. I snag a box of what looks to be medicine and a canteen of water, and then I run straight for the Cornucopia. I can see around me that the others have followed my lead, but some of my faster opponents have stopped to butcher those waiting.

I grab a large backpack, a package of food, a sword in it's sheath, and a black package that looks promising.

Others have reached the horn. I turn to see the boy from 5 creeping up behind me with a knife in his hand. I pull the sword from my sheath, and in one quick move, plunge it into his stomach. His blue eyes go wide, and when I pull my weapon out again, they've all but glazed over. "Sorry," I mutter.

I turn from the body of the boy to look at the chaos. I spot Ebb hacking with a spear at the body of a girl lying facedown on the ground. Over my shoulder, the two tributes from 1 are back to back, taking turns firing arrowing into the vitals of their opponents. And there's the girl from 4, sending a knife between the eyes of the little girl from 12.

Ebb looks up from his work and almost seems to sense my gaze. He grins at me. On the ground, the girl's bloody chest stutters and quakes. In a flash I recognize her. It's Thella, from 9. A jolt runs through me, and I turn away. I look around at the destruction that the Careers are causing. Ebb's grin as he butchers Thella, the tributes from 1's arrows slaying the many that rush to their death, the cold determination in the girl from 4's eyes.

I look back at Ebb, right into his eyes, and shake my head. Then I'm off again. Like a bullet, running for the mountains. An arrow whizzes by my head, ruffling my hair, and I duck. I reach a steep slope and barrel down it, leaving the sounds of the carnage behind me.

I've made a decision. I am not a Career. I'll play by my own rules, not theirs.

I head for the large mountain. I've grown up among mountains, and this one looks promising for cover from the dense forest. I'll have to be careful to watch out for the cliffs. It's completely silent among the trees, except for the cannons that signal death echoing over from the bloodbath at the Cornucopia.

When I've run enough into the forest, I find a spot behind a large tree and unwrap the packages. The box containing medicine has a few rolls of bandages, three bottles of some sort of liquid, one small jar of paste, and two scalpels. The backpack has two boxes of crackers, a medium roll of bread, and a block of cheese. An extra water canteen is inside as well, along with a blanket, a change of clothes and a thicker jacket. This I put on over my regular jacket.

The black package contains something that makes me want to curse whoever put it here. A boomerang. A children's toy. I wasted my time on this?! I take a minute to steady myself. This must be useful in some way. I run my finger along the inside edge of the toy, and I draw it away quickly. There's a thin line of blood on my index finger. "Not a toy after all, are you?" I say quietly, and place it carefully on top of the backpack.

I clean my sword with a cloth that I find in one of the pockets of the pack. I look up to the sky. The sun is descending fast. It will be dark soon. The cannons have stopped sounding, signaling that the remaining tributes must have escaped the Careers. That's even more reason for me to start to find shelter.

I start to hike through the woods, aiming diagonally up the mountain. My boots give me excellent traction on the rocky slope. Finally, I find a thick bramble bush with leaves still on it. Trees and vines surround it. I clear out a space within, and dump my pack in the corner. Now, to find something to eat.

I was never very good at hunting. I tramp around for a while, before I realize that I should lighten my step. I do so, and soon I spot a rabbit. I take my boomerang weapon from my back. I've fashioned a sort of sling-quiver thing for it. I send it thudding into the back legs of the rabbit. I run after it and spear the creature through the heart. I take it back to my shelter and skin it. Messy, but I've got a good chunk of meat after the work is done.

It's gotten completely dark by now. I poke my head out of my shelter to stare at the sky. At the end of each day, the dead tributes appear in the sky. This night, the first night, there are nine. The girl from 3 is the first to appear. That means that Ebb and the tributes from 1 are still alive. She's followed by the District 5 tributes, then the girl from 6. The boy from 7, and then Thella's face lights up the sky.

You'll pay for that one, Ebb, I think. She couldn't hurt a fly.

The next face I see is the boy from 10. Kirwan's still in the game. The last two to appear are the tributes from 12.

I settle back into my shelter. Praying that I've camouflaged myself well enough, I fall into a restless sleep filled with visions of Thella's broken body, Ebb's smile, and the eyes of the girl from 4.

8: {Let the Fun Begin}

When I open my eyes, I wish I had kept them closed. It's the morning of the Games.

There will be no goodbyes. Coyra will guide me to the hovercraft, dress me in my arena clothes, and bid me goodbye. Her face will be the last friendly one I see before I enter the Games. And perhaps her face will be the last friendly one that I ever see before my death.

Coyra comes to get me. Still dressed in my nightclothes, a shift made of soft cotton, she guides me to the roof of the tribute's building. I've never been up here before, but it's made up like a garden: green and lush.

The hovercraft appears out of nowhere. I don't know too much about hovercraft technology (that's really 3's area of expertise) but I do know that a similar stealth craft was designed in 2. The irony strikes me in the face. I will be taken by a craft of my own district's creation to my death. Wonderful.

Coyra's hands are cold on my back as she pushes me forward. I stand underneath the bright opening in the hovercraft, waiting. "What will they do?" I ask. "Beam me up?" Just as the words pass my lips, a white ladder descends from the bright light. I place my hands on it and instantly I'm frozen in place, unable to move. The ladder slides back up, and I strain my neck to catch a last glimpse of the garden, but the light obscures it.

When the ladder is fully retracted, a man wearing white clothes approaches me. I open my mouth to say something, but whatever's still keeping me frozen is preventing me from speech. The man seems to catch my glance, and he partially explains. "That's an electrical current," he says. "It keeps you in place and prevents you from talking. That helps me do my job." I see that he has a needle in his left hand. I stiffen even more, if that's possible. I don't like needles.

He sticks the needle into my upper arm. "This is a tracker," he explains. "So you don't get lost." He pulls the needle out. The current releases me, and as Coyra travels up the same way, I rotate my arm in it's socket. It doesn't feel sore, which is a good thing. I need every part of my body functioning when I go into the arena.

The man smiles at me. "Good luck." Wyss' voice fills in the rest for me, echoing around my brain. You're gonna need it.

I eat breakfast with Coyra in an antechamber off to the side of the main docking room. There is absolute silence, except for the sounds as I eat as much food that I know my stomach can handle, well aware that this could be my last meal.

About two hours later, the windows black out, signaling that we're drawing near to the arena. Our ride lands down, and Coyra and I descend the ladder. It leads to a room underground. We follow tunnels until we arrive at a small room that will be my entrance into the Games.

I shower in the nearby room and when I exit, Coyra brushes my hair and arranges it into a high ponytail. She dresses me in my arena clothes. This year it's a white long sleeve shirt, a fleece-lined black jacket, black pants, and white boots that reach just below my knee. She pulls my stone heart out of her pocket and gives it to me. I tuck it into an inside pocket and zip up the jacket.

She orders me to move around and stretch to warm up before the Games. I comply, stretching first my legs, then arms, then head, and finally my torso. But I can do nothing for the butterflies that threaten to destroy me from the inside out.

Finally, a voice comes over the monitor. It's time for me to go. Coyra moves me to a red circle on the floor. I stand in the exact center. My whole body is trembling with anticipation. I can't control anything now. I just have to wait. Over and over, in my head, I repeat facts. I could be dead in two seconds flat. I could die slowly. I could be devoured by a horrible monster. I could be killed at the very end. I could, I could, I could-

A glass casing descends around me. I search the room frantically for Coyra with my eyes, only to find that she is standing right in front of me, her nose pressed almost to the glass. She blows on it, creating a fog. Her finger writes a backwards message to me.

You could win.

Before I can do more than read the message, the cylinder starts to rise. I'm in darkness now, and I start to panic. Fear floods me from all sides. But the darkness lifts, to be replaced by blinding white. White and brown and black. A brown mountain, a white sky, black trees. And the golden Cornucopia glistening in front of me, piled high with everything a tribute could want in these Games.

I'm too stunned to notice that my cylinder has retracted again until I hear a loud voice around me. Claudius Templesmith. He's the announcer for the Games. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games begin!"

7: {Interview}

Coyra has done it again.

She's set me up in a white dress with a low cut neckline and big puffy sleeves that I feel ridiculous in, but Ican assures me that I look "perfectly wonderful!" My hair is allowed to be it's natural color. It has been curled, styled, and arranged to the side. A silver necklace is placed around my neck, and matching flats are on my feet.

It's right before the interviews. Enobaria has told me to act completely in control of everything, like I've got this in the bag. I remember asking her if that meant being arrogant. Her reply? "If it works for you." Thanks, mentor.

The girl tributes go before the boys. I watch the tributes from District 1 go before me. The boy has blonde hair and a pretty face, but that doesn't distract you from the fact that he looks like he could take on most of the Peacekeepers in the Capitol. He'll be a contender for sure.

The girl from 1 is slender, but strong-boned. She's ridiculously gorgeous, with long, dark brown hair and big blue eyes. But she too looks like she could kill without any hesitation. It's something in her eyes.

Caesar Flickerman, the announcer for the Games, has had his hair dyed bright yellow this year. He's famous for changing the color of it for every Games. In my opinion, it looks like he took the contents of a toilet bowl and dumped it over his head. I'll be willing to bet it smells as bad as it looks. And I haven't lost a bet ever.

Then it's my turn. I start to get nervous, but I don't show it. My face is completely composed as I ascend to the platform and sit down in the chair facing Caesar.

"Ah, Ayla Cetteras," Caesar says. There is mild applause from the audience, but nothing special. I manage a small smile, and a little wave.

Caesar continues. "That was some outfit you wore a couple of days ago. Don't you agree?"

I suck in my breath and go for it. "Yeah." I wince inside. "It was very pretty wasn't it? Striking. Though I'm not sure how Ebb liked his part." There is a laugh from the audience. It's pretty big, and I allow myself a smile.

Caesar laughs too. "Tell us about your home, Ayla. Who's waiting for you to come back?"

"My brother. His name is Wyss and he's nineteen. My parents died a few years ago, my mother of a miscarriage and my father of a mining incident." The audience sighs a little, but they're all waiting for me to go on. "Wyss works in the mines."

"And what does he do?"

"Well, I can't really tell you that..." The audience laughs again. I seem to be a comedy center.

Caesar asks his next question. "So, your score was pretty high. What do you think of that?" I think back to my performance in the training area. I practiced with the snares a bit, shot a couple arrows, but mostly I climbed. All over the walls, without a harness. That impressed the judges at least a little bit, because my score was a nine. Ebb earned an eight.

"I think it was well-deserved," I say. "I mean, I worked for it. It's not like I can roll out of bed and go earn a nine. I sincerely think there is no one who can do that naturally."

"Excellent answer. Alright, we have time for one more." He fidgets in his chair. "Your mentor is Enobaria, as we all know. What do you think of her? Do you feel pressured to live up to her?"

What kind of question is that?! I feel the same hotness start to bubble up inside me as I felt with Ebb, but I ry to subdue it.

"Pressured?" I ask, leaning forward. "I don't feel pressured, Caesar. I don't think it's a measure of if I can live up to her, it's whether her performance will live up to what I'll bring to the Games. Winner or loser, I'm going to give you all a show you won't forget. Believe me when I say that."

Caesar turns to the audience. "What do you think of that?" They roar their applause. I smile and nod my head, looking over their faces. And that's when it clicks. These people don't care whether I live or die. What they want is entertainment. Plain and simple.

Caesar gets up, and I follow his lead. He shakes my hand, and I descend the steps to the roar of the crowd behind me.

The rest of the interviews pass quickly, at least for most. I get quick glimpses of each tribute's personality.

The girl from 4 is quick on the uptake and bites back. The boy from 6 is quiet and shy. Thella from 9 is sweet and kind, and her laugh sounds like bells. Kirwan is quiet, but when he speaks, it's funny, and I find myself laughing. And then the boy from 12 is stuttery and sort of broken.

After the interviews are over, I go up to Enobaria. Before I can even open my mouth, she nods. I did what I was supposed to.

Now all I have to do is survive.

6: {Training}

I breathe deeply. Ebb and I are the first ones to get to the training center. Enobaria and Brutus have decided to come along. We're supposed to "show us what you got", according to Brutus. They're lined against the wall.

The center is huge, and filled with every form of defense and attack you can imagine. Bows and arrows, knives, snares, spears, camouflage paints, swords, deadly and non-deadly herbs, and even a climbing rope line the walls.

Ebb heads for the sword and spears instantly. I should have guessed. So much for training together. I take my time, spinning around, taking it all in. Finally, I walk towards the knives. I could use practice with those.

The trainer for the knives smiles at me. "District Two, eh?" he asks. "I saw your entrance at the opening ceremonies. You were in white, right?"

"Yeah," I say. "They painted me white." I don't know the significance of my words, but they sounds vaguely profound. To break the silence, I pick up a knife. The blade is about half a foot long. I pick it up, weigh it in my hand, and face the targets.

The targets are on the opposite wall. Five painted figures in the shape of humans, each with a red spot over the heart. I pull my hand back, take aim, and throw. The knife wedges itself in the shoulder of the target.

"Mmm," says the trainer. "See, your arm is fine until you get to the release point. You have to follow through with it. Like this."

He walks around next to me and picks up a similar knife. With a quick flick, the knife is embedded in the target's heart. I stare at the red blotch. He continues on with his explanation. "A shoulder wound, if it's deep, can be a problem. But if you hit them in the heart, they're gone for good."

"Thanks," I say, but I'm not sure if I mean it or not.

The other tributes have started to arrive. 1, 4, 7, and 9 are here already, and I'm sure the rest will follow. I pick up another knife and practice throwing it for a while. Even with the trainer's encouragement, I can't seem to get it right.

I look over at Enobaria. She shakes her head just slightly and tilts it to one side. Time to move on.

I leave the knife-thrower and make my way to the climbing wall. Now here's something I'm good at. Back in 2, we have a lot of mountains, so I've learned the art of rock climbing. The trainer, a stocky woman who introduces herself as Pirra, buckles me into this restraint and wire that she says will keep me from falling.

I grab onto the rock and hoist myself up with ease. I'm pretty sure it's the restraint that's doing all the work, though. I work my way back down and ask if I can take the buckles off. She gives me a quizzical, why in the world would you want to do that? glance but I'm persistent. I can be very persuasive when I want to be.

She takes the restraint off and I try again. This time it's harder, but the movement is more natural. I'm sure I won't have a wire to support me in the arena. I climb to the top with little difficulty, and start to descend again. It's harder coming down, but when my feet touch the ground, I feel like I've accomplished something beyond the Games. Though I'm not sure where I would use rock climbing outside of the arena. If I even survive.

I head over to a table where they've set out water for us. As I drink, I watch all the other tributes.

The pair from 4 look deadly for sure. The boy is busy at the snare table tying knots and snares that would kill you instantly, and the girl is at the knife-thrower's booth, chucking the knives into every target's heart. As I watch, she sends one right between the eyes of a dummy meant for rope practice. She smiles, but the gesture doesn't reach her cold gray eyes.

The tributes from 11 and 12 are blundering along, as usual. 8 looks better than the norm, and the boy from 9 is sure to be a contender, as I watch him sending one spear after another into his targets.

I'm suddenly joined by the girl from 9. She's a bit short, pink cheeked, and her blonde hair is tied up into a long ponytail. "Hi," she says, chipper. I nod my head in greeting. She reaches across to grab a water bottle. "I'm Thella," she says after taking a long gulp of water. "District Nine."

"Ayla. District Two."

"Nice to meet you," she says. "So, what are you thinking?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, still watching the boy from 9. "I mean, you look like you're having some pretty deep thoughts," Thella says, and takes another swig of water. "You're just staring into space."

"Oh," I say, feeling stupid. "I'm thinking about how your fellow tribute is great with the spears."

She follows my gaze. "Oh, that's Kirwan," she says. "He's good with a ton of stuff. Lots of practice with his father, who was in the games a couple decades ago. Lots of people in Nine were upset because he got picked. Especially the girls. He's kind of our 'golden boy' if you know what I mean. Good looking, and all that."

I can see what she means. He has dark hair, and eyes that are a coppery-gold color. I guess he's pretty handsome, but I don't put that much stock in appearance. I've learned that a person's behavior is the thing to pay attention to, not their looks.

"Well, I should be off," Thella says with another smile. I've got lots of training to do." She waves and jogs towards Kirwan. I watch her go, then remember that I'm supposed to be doing the same.

I walk towards the bow and arrows. I think about Thella, how nice she was. These games are going to be harder than I thought.