The night of the interviews had been restless–not one Tribute could sleep soundly, knowing that they could very well be waking up on the day of their deaths. Some didn't sleep at all, instead staying up to think and plan and train. Others went to bed as soon as possible, trying to get as much rest as possible.

But they all woke up on the morning of the Games.

And none of them were excited about it.

"Aw, Scarlet, stop crying," Raphael attempted to calm his little sister, who was absolutely hysterical. "Please?"

"H-how do I s-stop?" the little girl sobbed. "I'm going to d-die today. I know it!"

"You know I won't let that happen," Raph murmured, stroking her hair gently. "As long as I'm around, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Maybe not today. But I will eventually! It's only a matter of t-time!"

Gently, Raphael moved his sister's hands away from her eyes, wiping a tear from her face carefully. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her into a comforting embrace.

"It's okay, Scar," he murmured. "Marcus and I will be there to protect you every step of the way, remember? Don't cry. You'll be fine."

Scarlet sniffed, burying her face in her brother's plastron. She stopped sobbing, the last of the tears on her face eventually drying up.

"Okay," she whispered at last.

"That's my brave little sister. Now, come on. Let's go get ready."

***

"Hurry up, you two!" a member of the prep team called to Mikey and Shelby. "We mustn't be late. You wouldn't want to miss the Games, now would you?"

"Actually, I wouldn't mind that at all," Shelby muttered as she entered the living room.

She and Michelangelo arrived together. Although they said nothing, their eyes flicked toward each other time and time again as their prep team led them out of the apartment. Emotions were swirling inside of Shelby faster than a hurricane, making the temperature decrease. Michelangelo shivered beside her, and she stiffened.

Go on, Shelby. Just say it.

"Mikey," she said at last. 

The orange-masked turtle fixed his light blue eyes on her. The teenage girl was surprised to see a glimmer of hope in them.

"Yup?" he asked, looking curious.

"Hey...I'm sorry I snapped at you the other day," came the earnest reply. "I was just stressed, and my mind was somewhere else. I was going to ask you if you wanted to ally, but you're already with Winter, so–"

"Oh, dudette, you wanted to ally?" Mikey smiled at her. "I was actually kinda hoping you'd say that–I think it'd be cool to work with you."

"Seriously? With me?"

You have no idea about the power I possess. If you knew, you might think differently.

"Yeah!" Michelangelo flashed her a thumbs up. "If you want to ally, sure! I don't think Winter would mind. She's nice like that."

Shelby nodded, relief washing over her in a colossal tidal wave.

"Thank you, Mikey," she said.

"You're welcome, ally."

***

Hazel had to stop herself from breaking down in tears as the hovercraft she rode in swooped through the Capitol, carrying her and her stylist to the Launch Room. She didn't have Penelope with her–she didn't have anyone. All the Tributes had their own hovercrafts to ride, which meant all the Tributes had to ride alone.

Her mind flashed with images from home–Timothy, the way he'd smile at her whenever he saw her, and hug her and tell her things would be okay when she was down. Her father, the way he'd loved and protected her since her mother died. Her dog, Winston, who had given her some of the best cuddles ever. She missed the feeling of his soft fur on her fingertips, of his slobbery tongue licking her cheek.

I love you guys. Whatever happens in that Arena, please know that.

The hovercraft jerked to a stop abruptly. He'd stylist bustled into the room.

"Time to go," she said, her voice unusually quiet and grim.

Feeling sick, Hazel stood up, following her stylist shakily to the Launch Room.

***

"Remember what I told you," Destiny's stylist told her as she helped the wolf-raven into the glass tube. "Be brave. Be strong!"

"I will," Destiny promised, flashing a small fanged smile. "Thank you. You've made me feel the prettiest I ever have."

Her stylist smiled back just as the glass tube shut, trapping Destiny inside until the moment she entered the Arena. The wolf-raven girl looked over her outfit, a tight silvery jumpsuit with holes for her wings and tail. What confused her was the faux animal fur lining the neck and sleeves, and the hiking boots she wore that were rimmed with fur also.

What's the fur for? she wondered. Does the Capitol really need to add fashion to everything?

She froze, her heart pounding, as the tube slowly began to ascend. Destiny knew what was happening–she and the other Tributes were being lifted up into the Arena. Below her, her stylist waved goodbye, and she waved back just as a bright light hit her eyes, blinding her.

***

When the Tributes opened their eyes, they were no longer in their respective Launch Rooms. They were inside the Arena.

And they were not prepared for what they saw.

Each Tribute stood on a small iceberg, floating over icy water. In front of each iceberg, a long path of ice stretched, leading to a small, snowy plain. Here, the Cornucopia glittered in a tempting way, as if daring them to run across and take from it. At the end of the plain, a slope led up to a huge, snowy forest. Beyond the wide woods, mountains stretched tall and high, reaching for the sky.

This Hunger Games, the Tributes would be fighting in a frozen wasteland.

The countdown began.

"10..."

"9..."

"8..."

"7..."

Some of the Tributes looked around, trying to locate their allies.

"6..."

"5..."

"4..."

"3..."

Other Tributes braced themselves, or eyed the Cornucopia hungrily. Others looked scared out of their wits, trembling.

"2..."

"1."

And just like that, the Hunger Games began.