Trigger warnings: Blood, Death, Gore

As I stand waiting to go into the arena, it strikes me that I should be terrified. Instead, I feel strangely excited. Arion sits by the uneaten food, and I feel their eyes on me as I walk around the room, swinging my arms.

"Tributes, please stand in the tubes," A bored voice says over a speaker.

Arion gets to their feet, "This is it."

I outstretch my arms, "One last hug?"

They embrace me gently, "Not last," They correct, "One of many. I'll see you on the other side."

"Yeah," I murmur. My eyes land on Arion's cloak as it settles around them. I reach out to touch one of the pieces of fabric and Arion stiffens. "Hey, remember when you told me to appreciate the good things in life? Or something like that?"

Arion pulls away from me, held tilted, "Yes."

"Well," I nod at the cloak, "You aren't all your failings either."

Arion stares at their cloak, brushing the fabric softly, "It's important to remember."

"Yes," I agree, "But, Arion, you've done so many amazing things too. I know I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you." Arion's eyes widen, and I smile at them, "Why don't you make a cloak of all your successes too?"

Arion doesn't respond. As they stand speechless, the voices comes again, reminding me to get into my tube. 

"Start with me," I urge, "Put my name on your new cloak. Even if I don't win, then do it because you helped me. You tried."

"You will win, Glimmer," Arion says fiercely, and then their face drops to the floor, hesitant, "But if you don't...then yes," They raise their eyes, "I'll do it."

A smile spreads across my face, "See you on the other side."

"Tributes," The voice intones, more displeased now than bored, "Please step into your tubes."

"Okay, okay, I'm going," I mutter. I throw Arion a wink as I step into the tube and steel myself as the glass descends, encasing me. Arion meets my gaze and nods. The plate lurches beneath my feet, lifting me up. Arion disappears to be replaced by blank walls.

There's a quiet humming noise as the walls move past, indistinguishable aside from smudges and cuts. Then sunlight. The glass walls slide down and I'm in the arena. It's exactly as Finch described it. There's the large lake, shimmering by the woods. And the wheat field, stretching downwards on the other side. The Cornucopia looms large in the centre, with weapons, food and equipment strewn around the golden shell.

"Ladies and Gentleman," It's the booming voice of Claudius Templesmith, the announcer of the Hunger Games, "Let the 74th Hunger Games begin- and may the odds be ever in your favour!"

I glance around at the other tributes. I don't see Finch anywhere. She must be hidden on the other side of the horn, but Marvel is only a few places away, as is Clove. She meets my gaze and gestures to some knives lying at the base of the Cornucopia.

Mine, She mouths.

I resist rolling my eyes. I know. I wasn't planning on taking them.

Weapons and important items are normally closest to the Cornucopia. I see a silver bow and a quiver of arrows lying beside a mace. That's interesting. With my shooting, I wasn't sure if I was going to be deemed worthy of a weapon in the arena.

The gong sounds. I race towards the centre. There's a metal kunai lying on the ground. I grab it and step aside just as Talon, the boy from District Ten, races past me with a yellow backpack. As I turn away, Railey appears in front of me. The girl from District Six is grinning, holding a mace in her hand. She swings at me, and I step aside, my hand chopping to the back of her neck. She falls to the ground unconscious and I run her through with my kanai.

"Railey!"

It's the boy from District Six, Jay. He charges at me, sword in hand, and is on top of me faster than I can react. He plunges the sword into my arm, and I scream. I shove him away but he pins my arms, and goes to stab me the sword.

A hand grabs his arm. There's a flash of silver and blood spurts out from his throat. He makes a strange choking sound and collapses beside me. Clove stands beside him. She reaches down to grab me by my uninjured arm and hauls me to my feet. There's surprising strength in her wiry arms.

"You're not dying yet." She hisses.

After what seems like an eternity, the fighting is over. Cato, Clove, Marvel, Marina and I stand to the side and watch as the hovercrafts come to collect the bodies.

"We've got five tents," Cato says, as I watch Electra, the girl from District Three, get lifted into the air, "That should be plenty."

She has an ugly wound on the side of her head. I wonder if the Capitol will dress her up before giving her body to her family, or whether they'll just drop her off as she is.

"We have lots of food and weapons, too," Clove notes, "Let's put them in the middle and have our tents around them, facing outwards. It'll make it easier to guard."

"Good idea, Clover," Cato smiles. My scowl is only half-faked as I watch her nudge him, a smirk toying at her lips.

Then Cato frowns, "Hold on. There's someone over there."

He motions towards the Cornucopia, and gestures for us to follow him as he creeps around the golden base. The rest of us ready our weapons, as Cato holds up a hand for us to stop, and leaps around.

There's a startled cry, and I'm scared that it's Finch. That she's chosen to hide here rather than the woods like we planned. But the figure that Cato is pulling out has dark hair. It's Murdoch, whimpering.

"Murdoch!" Marina moves forward, "Let him go Cato. He's with us."

Cato gazes at the struggling boy coldly, "When was that agreed?"

He swiftly plunges his sword into the boy's chest, and slams him against the Cornucopia. Murdoch cries abruptly cut off. There's a stunned silence, and Marvel doubles over. Marina screams and races towards Cato with her own sword.

Their swords meet with a resounding clang. He's stronger and presses his sword down towards her head. She whirls away and her sword arcs towards his back, but he turns and catches it just in time. She dances away again, steps lithe and quick, before darting forward again.

"Cato, watch out!" Clove yells.

Kill him, I think, Please.

But then, seeing Marina fight, I'm not sure who I'd rather have to deal with.

Cato twists just in time, and sends Marina's sword flying from her hand. With his spare hand, he pushes her, sending her tumbling to the ground, and presses the point of his sword against her throat.

For a horrifying moment, I think he's going to drive the blade downwards, but then he retracts his sword.

"Not bad, Four." He says coolly.

She scrambles to her feet, weaponless aside from her hands balled into fists.

"You aren't going to kill me?" She taunts.

"Not this time. You're pretty good," He turns his back casually on her, and speaks to the rest of us, "Let's get the tents organised."

As if he hasn't just killed a twelve year old boy, whose only fault was being too weak for Cato's liking.

Marina stands breathing heavily, hate blazing in her eyes, as the rest of us move to carry out Cato's orders. As we sort through the food and the weapons, and get the tents set up, cannons start to sound. We pause to count them. Eleven people dead.

I see Marvel staring at the ground, his fists clenched.

"How many did you kill?" I murmur.

He doesn't look me in the eyes, "Two."

"Same."

The others chime in, voicing their numbers, and I tune them out until Clove says: "One. But I did almost kill Katniss Everdeen."

"Almost?" I repeat, "How close did you get?"

She sighs, "My knife almost hit her."

"What happened?" Cato reaches out to touch her arm, directing her gaze to him.

"It hit her backpack instead," Clove scowls, and then glares at us all angrily, "She lifted her backpack in the nick of time. It was heading straight for her, I swear!"

"It's a shame she got your knife." Marvel comments.

A sob bursts out of me, that turns into a strange laugh halfway. An armed Katniss Everdeen is even scarier than an unarmed one. And she must have either great survival skills or brilliant luck to survive one of Clove's knives.

"Yeah, great going," I mutter.

I know it immediately that I shouldn't have said it. But I'm tired, it's been a long day and I'm scared that I can't keep up my mask forever.

But it's too late to take it back, and it's enough to make Clove snap. "Look, at least I tried to kill her!" She growls, "None of the rest of you did!" She turns her head to me, "And I doubt you would've even hit her backpack with your archery skills."

She takes a half-step towards me, her movement hindered by Cato's restraining arm. I watch her warily, and raise my arms, but before either of us can make a move, a branch snaps in the woods.

I wonder if it's Katniss, Clove's knife in hand at the ready. We've been idiots, standing around arguing, and the other tributes could have taken us out at any time.

Then I think of Finch. Was she waiting for me to bring her food but got impatient?

But it's neither of them. It's Peeta Mellark, the boy from District Twelve.

We watch in silence as he edges forward cautiously from the cover of the woods, hands in the air. On the face of it, he's timid, shoulders hunched so he's not a threat. But I know an actor when I see one. He's confident. He must be to have the easy assurance of one goal in mind: to save the life of Katniss Everdeen. He's come to weasel his way into our group of heavily armed Careers to protect her or die trying.

"It's Lover Boy," Marvel says. I can tell he's attempting to be threatening, but a guy like Marvel will have to work so much harder for that to come across. His voice comes out more like a squeak than a growl.

Peeta's gaze isn't on him though. He stares at Cato his eyes tracking his face, his sword.

"What do you want Lover Boy?" Cato spits. It's a proper sneer, the short sentence dripping with hatred and disdain.

"I want to join you," Peeta says stepping forward.

There's a saying in District One. Bold as brass. It means arrogance, to be unafraid. Because even though brass is not worth the same as all the other jewels, it still shines bright and undeterred. It comes to mind now, in the face of Peeta's unwavering resolve.

The others are silent, as though mulling over Peeta's words, and I force a laugh, "Why do you think we'll accept you?"

Because seriously they can't be considering it. Can they not see the obvious threat? If he plays his cards right, he'll outlive us all. He'll kill us all in our sleep if it means letting Katniss Everdeen live.

Cato shushes me, his eyes on Peeta.

"We need fighters in this alliance," He murmurs, "Fight me and prove your worth Lover Boy."

Clove rolls her eyes, but tosses Peeta one of her knives. He catches it but makes a show of fumbling and almost dropping it. Beside me, Marvel snickers. I grind my teeth, as Peeta smiles nervously. He's playing them all for fools.

Cato twirls his sword dramatically and gestures for us to move aside. We do, and watch in a circle as he lunges at Peeta. Peeta pretends fear but deflects it with ease. I'm no sword fighter but I know what this means. I hear Clove's intake of breath, and see Cato's eyes momentarily widen as he strikes again, harder. Peeta blocks with a force that almost sends Cato stumbling. There's a flash of a grimace on Peeta's face- he knows he's overdone it- and as Cato lashes out again, Peeta lets Cato drag him to the ground.

As Cato presses his sword against Peeta's throat, he snarls, "What did you get in your training?"

"An eight?" Peeta whispers hoarsely.

Is that an act too or is he finally scared to die? I can't tell.

Cato takes satisfaction in keeping the sword pressed tight against Peeta's skin. A trickle of blood drips onto the ground, and Peeta's face whitens in pain.

"If I spare your life, do you promise to help us find Katniss Everdeen and kill us?"

This is what he wanted. He planned for this. And yet he pretends to hesitate, allows Cato to push the sword even deeper, before he mutters, "Yes."

Cato smirks, withdrawing his sword, "Say that again. Louder, so that the audience can hear."

Clove groans.

"I promise I will help you find Peeta." He's shaking. Exaggerating, probably. Playing up the doomed and reluctant lover.

"And?" Cato asks, his smile widening.

"And I'll help you kill her."

"Right, you're in. You can keep the knife."

Clove scowls, and I'm grateful to have one ally in this madness. For someone as smart and ruthless as Cato, does his ego really not allow him to tell when he's been played?

Despair and speechlessness war in me, and explode out in a snort as I bury my face in my hands. From out of my fingers, I see Marvel smiling.

What are you so happy about? I want to scream, Can't you see what we've done?

I take a breath and steady myself in between my hiccups. I'll just have to kill him before all the rest of them. As if reading my thoughts, Peeta Mellark meets my gaze and winks.

                                                                                          ***

My footsteps are loud crunching through the wood. I grip in the last fingers of my left hand, whilst I have an arrow nocked onto my bow, ready to draw. It feels stiff and unwieldy in my hands, and it's unnerving walking through this still and silent forest alone.

There's a crack behind me, and I turn swiftly to find my arrow pointed at Finch's chest.

She raises an eyebrow, "Trying to kill me already, Princess?"

Relief courses through me as I lower my bow. She's alive.

"I heard you."

She pulls a face, "I don't think anyone can be silent in a forest. There were never any stupid twigs in the houses back at Five." She eyes the bag in my hand, "How much is there?"

I toss it, "See for yourself."

She opens it quickly and rummages through it, "You must have a lot stashed at the Cornucopia."

"Far more than we need," I agree, "Have you found any poisonous berries?"

"None so far," She frowns, "But I'll search deeper tomorrow. Why? Has something happened already?"

Was my urgency too obvious? I try to keep my voice calm, as I say, "Just an anomaly. The boy from District Twelve has decided to join."

"Ah." Her brow furrows, "I'm surprised the boy from District Two didn't kill him on the spot."

"He appealed to his ego."

She nods, "I'll try and get the berries to you tomorrow."

She turns and walks off, swinging the bag of food from her hand as she heads into the trees.

"Finch," I murmur softly.

She turns.

"We're going to be looking for other tributes tonight. So hide somewhere safe."

Her teeth are bright in the shadows of the trees, "Always do, Princess. But thanks for the tip."

I walk back to the Cornucopia, where Clove has got a fire blazing to the side of the tents.

She looks up at me as I pass, "Where have you been?"

"Needs must," I grin, gesturing to my lower regions.

She frowns, "We need to talk."

I raise an eyebrow, but follow her into her tent. I zip it behind me and turn to be immediately faced by one of her knives.

"This again, Darling?" I force a lightness into my voice.

"Shut up," She growls, and steps closer, dropping her voice into a whisper, "Tell me everything about my father."

"All in good time." I murmur.

"I have a knife against your throat," She hisses, "I could stab you at any time."

"True," I concede, "But that will open my throat, not my mouth. A little counterproductive, don't you think?" Anger flashes in her dark eyes and I place a hand onto her knife, "Clove, I don't like holding this over you. But I don't particularly want to die. You and Cato agreed to give me a few days."

"We did," Her voice is calmer now, but she still doesn't lower her knife.

"So what's changed?" I ask, "Peeta?"

There's a pause, and her eyes dark back and forth as if unsure what to tell me. Then she growls, "He's a threat."

"Yes. But one you and Cato can handle," I soothe, "We can deal with him together, and you'll get your answers from me. But for now, let's keep our heads and let the sponsors stream in. Alright?"

"None have come yet," She notes.

"Then I better get to work," I smile.

I unzip the tent and step outside, hoping that the cameras will focus in on me. I school my expression into one of teary distress and run towards where I can see Cato, wresting with several large bags of potatoes.

"Cato! Cato!" I shout.

He looks up alarmed, immediately grabbing his sword, "What is it?"

I clutch his arm, sobbing loudly, "It's Clove! She tried to kill me!"

"What?" He frowns.

"She got me into her tent, and told me to stay away from you or she'd gut me!"

"Oh no, that's terrible!" The insincerity is clear in his voice but I'm glad he's finally got the hint and is playing along, "Why would she do that?"

"I think...." I gulp, but make sure I get my words out clear for the audience, "I think she's in love with you."

Cato gasps so loudly that I'm pretty sure everyone at home will be able to tell he's acting. "What? Clove? Impossible! She's just a friend!"

"Well go talk to her then!" I sniff, "Tell her you're in love with me."

Cato tosses his head arrogantly, "Don't worry Glimmer," He pats me heavily on the arm, "I'll sort this out."

He saunters over to Clove's tent, and bashes it heavily. Immediately the door opens and Clove flies out, a knife in both hands. When she sees Cato, she stops irate but puzzled. Then Cato begins yelling and moving his arms around, and she starts doing the same and shoving him.

I make my smirk obvious as I sort out the food and it isn't long before a few parachutes land from the sky beside our camp. The sponsors haven't sent much- some chocolates and more blankets- but it's a start.

Later that evening, we head into the woods to begin to scour for victims. Marina opts to stay and guard the camp. I hope her hatred is directed at Cato and not at the rest of us, but I'm concerned about what she might scheme. Marina alone with her brooding thoughts is not a good idea.

For most of the night we're unsuccessful. All that seems to be hiding in the woods are shadows and awkwardly placed bushes and logs. It gets colder too, and since we're dressed for running and fighting, it isn't long before all our teeth are chattering. I can see the frustration on Cato's face, and I'm about to suggest that we turn back when I spot it.

Smoke coiling lazily into the sky. And the flicker of an amber flame. Excitement flares inside my chest. Tasmin's signal. Thresh is muscular and intimidating, but it's Katniss that I'm hoping she's found. Take out Katniss, and we can remove Peeta from the equation too.

"A campfire!" I shout, pointing it out to the others.

"Yes!" Cato whoops, "Finally!"

We race in its direction, Cato and Clove in the lead as we stumble through the trees. We slow as we get closer, scanning the trees for any potential ambush.

Peeta stiffens as he glances towards one tree. I follow his gaze to see a half-hidden trap made up of wires. Given his reaction, it must be one of Katniss's. Is that how she got that eleven?

"Something wrong, Peeta?" I ask, smiling sweetly.

He must hear the triumph in my voice, but he covers his fear well, returning the smile with a grin of his own, "We're about to kill someone. You can't blame me for being nervous."

"Nervous or afraid?"

He doesn't respond, but I notice that his footsteps are frustratingly loud as we approach the fire. As spies go, he's a terrible one, but I have to admire his courage.

But when we reach the fire, I freeze. There's a girl sitting drooped, her face half-lit by the dwindling flames. But it's not Katniss at all: it's Tasmin. She's asleep. Why is she still here? Why didn't she start the fire and leave already? Was she worried it would go out if she did and I wouldn't come?

Clove darts forward and shakes her awake roughly. Tasmin eyes fly open, wide with fear, as stares around, before landing on me. Pleading.

Run, I mouth, Run.

She starts, and I think she's about to get to her feet, but Cato stalks forward and she screams.

"Please!" She's crying, trembling, her accent thick as she holds her hands to Cato, entreating, "Don't kill me, please! Maybe I can 'elp you!"

"I doubt it," Cato says calmly. The worst part is his smirk, his condescension as he stares down at Tasmin. As if he is an angel with full control over life and death.

Tasmin turns to me, gaping, beseeching, and I have to hold back my scream, as Cato plunges his sword into her chest.