Chaffinch Canasto, 13, District 11

Azhador - Island B - 0630

Chaffinch has always been a little on edge.

The first island was okay…minus the strange fog and visions he had. They were scary but they weren't real. And he knew Vetiver would protect him.

The caves were claustrophobic and miserable. Chaffinch doesn't miss those. They separated him and Vet. It was scary.

At first, he wanted to like this island. Yet still, something about being here makes him twitch. Even with Vetiver looking out for him, he can't seem to relax.

He wants to. He wants to cheer the girl - Exa - up. She's been too sad for too long. He can tell she's in pain, he tries to ease it with gifts. It never works.

Why can't he cheer her up?

(Chaffinch isn't a stranger to death, but it's a concept that shouldn't even be considered for the small girl. She's small like him, and small creatures aren't supposed to die. They're supposed to grow and get big.

They're supposed to fly.)

Birds come and go around him, hopping from tree to tree. Chaffinch likes to watch them. It makes him feel at home.

(He doesn't know how long these "games" will last or what else will come. He just knows…he could be happy living here with his two friends and the birds in the sky. He could climb and hop and run for days. It would be peaceful.)

First, he has to make Exa feel better.

He's tried berries and flowers. Maybe he can build a nest, something to keep her warm. Maybe there are more flowers in the distance.

Chaffinch finds a tall tree and scurries up it. At the top, he can see so many more trees. With most of the leaves burnt, he can see a few patches of open land.

He thinks he knows where to go.

He climbs back down and sees Vet talking to Exa. He doesn't know what they're talking about, nor does he really care. He has a mission.

Without wasting a second, he scurries off in the direction of the closest field. It shouldn't take him more than a few moments to get there.

He thinks he hears Vetiver yelling out for him, but he doesn't stop. He'll be back soon, and he'll be able to make his new friend feel better. Vetiver will thank him. Maybe he can even bring something back for Vet.

He finds the clearing very quickly, pleased at how alive everything is here compared to everything around it. He finds the bush of flowers, some yellow things he doesn't recognize, and he picks a large handful of them.

As he turns to go back to his friends, he hears an animal breaking a branch. It must be a large animal, by how loud the crack is. Except, Chaffinch doesn't see any animals, at least not any on the ground.

Chaffinch scans the forest. It settles on him just how alone he is. The dead trees stare back at him like they want to kill him.

He doesn't want to die.

He takes his handful of flowers and scurries back to the group. He still hears the animal, but whatever it is must not be following him.

Probably a rabbit. Chaffinch pushes through the trees and sees Vetiver, whose concerned face drops with relief once he sees him.

"It's better to stay together, Finch," he says softly. Chaffinch holds up his bouquet of flowers, and any displeasure drops from the bigger boy's face. Vetiver takes one flower and Chaffinch gets closer to Exa to hand her the rest.

She smiles at him as he hands her the rest of the bouquet. She thanks him, rubbing her hand across the petals.

"My brother and I used to pick flowers together. There was a mean neighbor that didn't like us playing near her house, so every few weeks we would pick another flower out of her garden. Not enough to damage anything, just to drive her crazy." Exa laughs, which devolves into a cough. "She thought she had a raccoon problem."

"Now she knows the truth," Vetiver says, kneeling down to look at her hand. Chaffinch looks away. It makes him sad to see her in pain. He just wants her to feel better, so they can play. He wants to teach her how to climb.

He wants to climb with them all.

Rustling fills the air and Chaffinch thinks that the animal must be back. Vetiver hears it too, he snaps his head around to look out in the direction of the sound. Even Exa forces herself up to her feet, the tree behind her supporting her weight.

Chaffinch doesn't feel panic until Vetiver grabs his knife and pushes Chaffinch behind his back.

It's not an animal it's not an animal what is it-

Chaffinch finally sees the movement, and it's no animal. It's a boy. He's tall and big and he has a sword and there's something red on the sword and he's running through the trees away from something or towards them-

Chaffinch doesn't think he's a friend.

Chaffinch's feet move before Vetiver can tell him to run. Chaffinch almost runs too fast to get Exa but he slows down and takes her good arm. She moves slowly but she's trying to move fast and he helps her.

Why is he chasing us what does he want?

Vetiver is behind them, and Chaffinch can hear him. He's still yelling at them to run and at some point, Chaffinch hears metal clinking against metal and it's a horrible sound.

Something pulls Chaffinch down and it's Exa. Chaffinch only falls to one knee but she's fallen to both, injured hand on the ground and cries escaping her mouth. The flowers have scattered around them but that's okay because Chaffinch can always get more flowers.

"Go, go!" Exa coughs out as she pulls her arm off of him. He looks at her, then at Vetiver who is closing the distance between them. The scary boy is only a few feet behind him.

They don't have time.

She's still coughing and Chaffinch wants to run so bad but he wants to run with her.

He looks at Vetiver for an answer. He doesn't want to make the wrong decision. He doesn't want to leave her.

Vetiver turns to block another strike from the boy, this one sends him stumbling back into a tree.

"Go!" Vetiver yells, barely dodging another strike.

Everything in his heart is telling him to stay and everything in his brain is telling him to run.

(Chaffinch doesn't want to lose his new family.)

The tears blur his vision. With one last look at Exa, he turns back around.

He can hear Vetiver's screams and the pain in his chest might as well kill him.

But all he can do is run.

It's all he knows.

Caliadne "Cali" Karpathos, 18, District 4

Azhador - Island B - 0710

Cali hadn't realized how close she was to other people until the screams started.

The first one jolts her awake. Everything around her makes her disoriented. She stumbles until the crossbow is comfortable in her hands. By the time she's prepared, she hears the second scream, followed by two, no, three sets of footsteps scrambling away.

She crouches down and waits, trying to figure out if the footsteps are getting closer or moving away from her. She can't even tell who is being chased, let alone by what. Is it another tribute? A mutt?

Caliadne doesn't know what is worse at this point in the Games.

Once it quiets down enough, Cali starts to slowly push forward. If she doesn't run into whoever's in the commotion first, she might be able to at least find their path.

(Whoever it is, she has to kill. It doesn't matter who.)

Every crunch under her boot sends a shiver down her spine. Whatever, or whoever she's following doesn't hear her.

She finally finds the culprit and the scene unfolding in front of her confuses her. She recognizes Amatus immediately, his sword raised above another boy lying on the ground. Blood runs down the boy's fingers, his small knife is nothing compared to Amatus's weapon and brute strength.

The boy kicks Amatus in the knee and scrambles to his feet. He tries to pick up someone else Cali hadn't seen before, a small girl, but Cali can tell she's in no condition to run. She must know this, and so must her ally, because she shoves him away from her.

He hesitates, but Amatus pushes forward and forces him into a sprint. Amatus takes one look at the girl before sending his blade into her stomach. He pulls it out quickly to follow.

Cali just watches him leave. She waits until she can't hear footsteps anymore. Then, she pushes forward.

The girl is barely breathing. Blood drenches her shirt. There's a nasty wound on her hand that probably should have been cut off days ago.

Not that it matters. The girl looks up at Cali, her breath shallow and sparse.

"Please," she whispers.

Cali grips her crossbow. As she raises it, the fear in the girl's eyes seems to be replaced with peace.

"I'll kill him. Don't worry."

The bolt fires and the cannon follows only seconds later. Cali takes the bolt back, rearming herself quickly.

It's a good thing she does because by the time a snap behind her gets her attention, she's ready to fire. She fires at the movement, assuming it's Amatus coming back to finish off the young girl.

She knows immediately it's not Amatus. Amatus doesn't have blonde hair.

Cali scrambles behind the tree to reload. She focuses on each task as simply as she can.

This is not the time to lose her focus.

She hears more movement and with her prepared shot, she goes to shoot. She skims the treeline, desperate to find her target.

There!

Cali sends another shot and hears Choux groan in pain. Cali starts to reload, but she's not fast enough to duck into cover before a knife whizzes at her. It lands in her thigh and she stumbles back, too quick to remove it.

She gets behind cover again as Choux throws another knife. This one flies past her, colliding with a nearby tree before falling to the ground. Cali should grab it, but she doesn't know how many of those things Choux has left, and the pain in her thigh is only growing with each passing second.

Pull yourself together! She can hear Ronan yelling at her. Gritting her teeth through the pain, she reloads as quickly and precisely as she can.

She moves out of cover to take another shot, and despite the agony in her leg, she manages to find her target. She fires, the bolt coming in contact with the edge of the tree, sending bark flying. Choux pulls away, the burst of bark shocking her. Cali reloads quickly to try and take advantage of the moment, but when she moves back out of cover, her leg gives out.

The bolt is released in Choux's general direction, but she's in no danger of being hit as Cali's hand pulls away from the weapon to catch herself. The fall isn't painful, minus the convulsions in her leg.

(It's only now that Cali sees purple liquid stained on the knife blade. A few tiny drops of purple stain the tree Choux's second knife hit.

With the pain and the weakness in her leg, Caliadne knows it can only mean one thing.)

She forces herself to a seated position to reload one last time. She can see Choux in the distance, one last knife in her hand, a wound in her shoulder from where Cali must have shot her.

"This is how it ends, then," Cali says, her voice strained from the pain coursing through her body. "Just as it started. You poisoning us from inside."

Choux just smiles in response. She closes the distance between the two of them, the poisoned knife put away. In its place, she pulls out another knife.

"I took this from Dahlia. After I killed her. She would be proud that her weapon killed you, I think."

"You poisoned her too." Cali's response isn't so much a question as it is a statement, but Choux nods in confirmation.

"She didn't see it coming either. Don't feel bad. Amatus will meet the same fate."

Cali tries to reload the bow, but Choux slams her boot down on her hand. Cali screams as the bones in her hand explode. Choux kicks the crossbow away.

Cali can feel her organs start to shut down. The pain is excruciating, but she doesn't want to give Choux the satisfaction of seeing her suffer.

"I don't think either of you deserves the win," Cali growls. Choux tilts her head to the side.

"Probably not. The least I can do is make sure it's not him." She then sends her foot into Cali's chin, knocking the girl on her back. The world spins as Cali's head falls to the ground.

It'll be quick. It's the only thing that brings Caliadne any form of comfort.

As her body shuts down from the damage Choux has done, she feels the girl start to search her for supplies. The world around her is hazy, but there's one figure she'd recognize no matter what.

(In any other circumstance, imagining a dead Ronan reaching out for her would be horrifying. He always looked so alive.

But now as he reaches for her to join him, she doesn't push him away. She longs for the comfort of his embrace.

She may not be ready to die, but she is ready to be with him.)

When Caliadne Karpathos closes her eyes for the last time, there's no fear or sadness in her heart.

Only comfort.

Amatus Zanetti, 18, District 2

Azhador - Island B - 0725

Two cannons fire back to back and Amatus is chasing down the next two. Adrenaline fuels him, his last kill was too long ago. He doesn't want to waste time on these two. Not while the real threats still linger over him.

The two boys may be fast, but Amatus Zanetti is faster. He's more than ready to kill two outliers like they're nothing.

He just needs to catch up first.

It helps that the two boys stay near each other. It makes them easier targets to track. Amatus knows he'll make quick work of them.

They're not his real target, but they're good for a warm-up. Amatus can feel the end creeping up on him, and he's more than prepared to finish off what he started.

(No one will take this from him. Anyone who tries will regret it.)

He's closing the distance between him and his prey and the older boy must notice because every time he glances back, there's more fear in his eyes. Seeing that only fuels Amatus more.

(It's a shame it's not Cali or Choux, but he doesn't worry. Their time will come.)

The older boy says something to the younger boy and to Amatus' surprise, the little one vanishes, leaving Amatus to chase the bigger boy only. He doesn't know how that's possible, there's nothing but trees surrounding them.

It doesn't matter. The bigger boy is more of a threat, and his time is almost up. Amatus smiles to himself.

He's ready for some fun.

He focuses his attention on the older boy, whose movements have become more erratic. Amatus is close enough now to strike-

Until something falls on top of him and sends him flying.

His sword flies away from him as his hands reach out to stop his fall. Gasping for air is painful as whatever falls on top of him is still putting weight on him. Amatus reaches behind his back and grabs onto something-is it a person?

He doesn't think twice. Once he has a good grip on it, he throws it off of him, and a big gasp of air and dirt into his lungs sends him into a coughing fit. He scrambles to stand as he gets a good look at what he threw.

A fucking child jumped on him from a tree!

Amatus sneers, picking up his sword as the smaller boy tries to regain his footing. Amatus threw him into a tree and the force must have been strong based on his weak movement.

Amatus doesn't hesitate to swing. The blade slices the smaller boy from shoulder to hip, and a weak cry escapes his mouth. Amatus is prepped for another strike when footsteps behind him remind him of the second tribute.

It's an easy dodge, which sends his opponent stumbling into the same tree. Amatus swings wildly now, aiming for whichever one he can. The older boy is closer to him as he turns to face Amatus, so he's the one that meets the end of Amatus' blade.

At least, his hand does. It's a mistake for him to raise his hands to block the blade. It's a clean cut through at least three of his fingers. Amatus isn't exactly sure, as the boy screams and pulls away quicker than Amatus can assess.

He raises his boot and it lands straight into the older boy's chest. It knocks him into the tree, then his body collapses to the floor. He's about to deliver a final blow when something bites his leg.

"You're fucking insane!" Amatus yanks the back of the kid's shirt, pulling him far enough away to send his blade into his stomach. All resistance and flailing slow, and Amatus is happy to drop the kid as he pulls his blade back out.

He turns to the older boy, completely disarmed and gripping his injured hand. Amatus has his blade raised.

"You tried. Most don't," Amatus says to the boy. He's not sure if his words land with the boy, but that doesn't matter to Amatus.

He's ready to end this and move on.

He raises his sword to deliver a last strike when a knife finds his arm. He swears, pulling it out as quickly as he can manage. He slams the knife into the older boy's calf, an animalistic scream releasing from his throat.

Amatus tries to make sense of everything. When did the boy get a second knife and when the fuck did he throw it at Amatus? Amatus looks at the smaller boy whose shallow breaths are barely keeping him alive.

It wasn't him, Amatus thinks. It wasn't either of them.

Who the fuck-

Then he hears it. The unmistakable sound of footsteps in the distance. He pushes forward, trying to piece together who the hell the third attacker is.

If two cannons were fired earlier, and one was the small girl he killed, who the fuck else is hunting?

What he sees moving along the trees answers his question.

He doesn't think about the two boys behind him anymore. They're as good as dead. No, he doesn't think about anything as he breaks into a sprint towards the third attacker, rage fueling his every movement.

She ruined his Games. Ruined their alliance. Ruined everything she's touched and Amatus has been tortured by her for too fucking long.

Choux Macbeth will not evade him anymore.

She's fast, but he's faster. His shoulder wound, the bite on his leg, nothing will slow him as he chases her down.

Nothing will stop him from killing the fucking snake.

(He doesn't even care about the lack of cannons from his last victims. He doesn't care that his vision is starting to blur, ever so slightly.)

She weaves through the trees with much more grace than his prior victims, but Amatus is still able to keep up.

She'll slow down eventually, or he'll catch up eventually. It doesn't matter which happens first. All that matters is that she ends up dead at the end of his blade.

Nothing would make him happier.

Oswaldo "Ozzy" Moquette, 17, District 8

Azhador - Island B - 0735

Each cannon makes Ozzy jump.

It should be a good thing, right? One less person standing between him and home. That's all he wants, to get home and find his sister and kick his father's ass.

Yet when he looks at Roman, he doesn't know which would be worse: killing him or being killed by him.

Ozzy has never been good at plans, but he doesn't think there is a good plan for this situation.

All roads lead to death, just like in Eight.

It's Roman's turn to rest, but after the cannons start firing, Ozzy can tell the boy is wide awake.

The end is closing in and Ozzy doesn't know what to do about it. He was never the planner at home, not really. He was more of the…improviser. He left the real plans to Scarlet.

They were the best team and he screwed it up so badly. He can't screw this up too.

"Are you hungry?" Ozzy asks. Roman shakes his head and stands up. He looks around the woods slowly, as if he's seeing all of this for the first time.

Ozzy doesn't understand.

Ozzy gets up with him but Roman pushes him back. Ozzy doesn't expect the shove, so it sends him further back than either of them expects.

"Hey, that wasn't funny," Ozzy says as he regains his balance. His tone is as jovial as he can manage.

(Recently, Ozzy has trouble finding humor in these situations he keeps finding himself in.)

Roman advances closer to him, fishing spear gripped tightly. Ozzy is unarmed and unsure of what his ally is doing.

(Part of him might know, but every part of Ozzy refuses to accept it.)

Ozzy even takes a second to glance behind him, desperate to rationalize Roman's actions with anything but the obvious.

He can't. Everything is pointing to the same answer.

Ozzy's too far away from his spear to pick it up now. Instead, he holds his hands up as he continues to step back.

Roman continues to close that distance.

"Let's talk it out, okay, friend? We don't have to fight," Ozzy says, stumbling through the words.

"Friend?" Roman asks. He presses his empty hand to his skull, closing his eyes and wincing in pain. Ozzy's gut reaction is to check in on him, but the sharp end of the spear is still too close for comfort.

"You're sick, okay, you, you're just not feeling well. Put down the weapon," Ozzy pleads.

"Who are you? What-where am I? What did you do to me?" Roman lunges forward with the weapon but Ozzy is able to dodge out of the way. He scrambles back further and further, cycling in this never-ending nightmare.

"We're in the Hunger Games! We're allies, okay? We're friends."

Roman winces and grabs for his head again, dropping his spear in the process. Ozzy doesn't think before lunging in to kick the spear away. He doesn't think how it would look to the already unhinged boy in front of him.

Despite the pain in his head, Roman is fast. His fist lands in Ozzy's gut and Ozzy can't catch his breath. He can barely stay on his feet.

He doesn't have to try for long, because Roman shoves him back and he's on the ground.

"Roman, stop!" Ozzy can't imagine how pathetic he sounds, trying to reason with someone actively trying to kill him. He tries to get up from the ground but Roman stands over him, fists raised.

Ozzy pushes away guilt and mutters an apology under his breath as he sends a foot into Roman's ankle. The boy stumbles slightly, but it's enough for Ozzy to slip out from underneath him and regain his bearing on his feet. He's still struggling to catch his breath, but that doesn't stop him from throwing a fist in Roman's direction.

It lands across his face, and the pain in Ozzy's knuckles is nothing compared to the flashbacks from pit fighting in Eight. He tries to lower his hands, tries to do anything to show Roman he's not a threat.

(He'd be lying to them both.)

Roman comes back in with his fists, but Ozzy is able to block it. He blocks most of the punches, until one curves under his arms and breaks at least one of his ribs. The pain is sharp and the retaliatory kick into Roman's knees is reactionary at best.

Roman barely stays upright, blood coming out of his nose and mouth, hints of bruises forming on his face and his knuckles.

"Please," Ozzy says softly.

Roman doesn't hear it. He grabs Ozzy's shoulders, shoving him into a tree. The bark stabs into Ozzy's back, inflaming his rib pain even further.

With one hand holding Ozzy down, the other is free to fly into his stomach, face, anywhere Roman can hit. The erratic movement makes it even harder for Ozzy to block.

Get! Yourself! Together!

One last punch is all Ozzy can take before he grabs Roman's arm that's holding him down and twists it back. Roman screams, flailing around to get free from this position.

Ozzy doesn't hesitate as he kicks out Roman's legs and tackles the boy to the ground. With his face in the dirt and one arm wrapped behind his back, Ozzy is able to hold him down.

He can take a breath.

(A breath hurts. His face hurts. Everything fucking hurts.)

"What do you want?" Roman hisses.

"I don't want to fight!" Ozzy knows how pathetic he sounds. He doesn't care how many cameras are watching them right now.

(All he's ever done is lose those he cares about why does it always end this way?)

"Get off of me."

"I can't do that." Ozzy's tears are as real as his bruises and hurt just as much.

Ozzy doesn't realize he's released tension on Roman until the boy wiggles out of his grasp. He pulls his arm free and connects his foot to Ozzy's chin. Ozzy tries to get back in a position to hold Roman down, but within seconds, something explodes in Ozzy's temple.

Pain. Pain swirls around him as he struggles to stand up. He sees the bloodied rock by his feet, inches away from Roman's hand.

He doesn't think when he picks up the rock. He doesn't think as he swings it into the other boy's head. He doesn't think as Roman's blood mixes with his blood on the rock.

(The biggest problem with Oswaldo Moquette is how little he thinks.)

Roman's cry snaps him out of it. Blood covers most of the rock, leaking onto Ozzy's fingers. The rock falls out of his hand but the blood remains.

What have I done?

He stumbles back, desperate to get the blood off of his fingers. He doesn't watch Roman, he can't bear to see the damage he's done.

He can't stand the idea of killing another friend.

Ozzy's back finds a tree and his feet give out, and soon he's sobbing in the dirt. Roman stays on the ground in front of him, the hand pressed against his head doing little to stop the blood flow.

"Ozzy?" Roman asks. Ozzy looks up and he sees Roman looking around, dilated eyes struggling to keep up under the sunlight.

(They're not the same eyes Ozzy met all those days ago, but they're as close to his real friend as he's going to get.)

"We should clean your wound," Ozzy says as he wipes away his tears. He helps Roman up, trying not to look his friend in the eyes, and takes him back to their camp.

As he washes the wound, no words are exchanged between them. By the time he's done, they both sit in the exact same position they were in before things went to shit.

(It doesn't leave Ozzy optimistic for however many days remain in the fight.)

Choux Macbeth, 18, District 1

Azhador - Island B - 0740

Choux may have miscalculated.

Caliadne went down easy, too easy maybe. Maybe she put too much poison on those knives, or maybe she didn't put enough on the one she threw at Amatus.

Regardless, he's closing distance and he doesn't seem to be slowing down. For a moment, she wonders if the knife was poisoned at all.

(She can't think like that. She can't doubt herself.

She can't ruin what she's worked so hard to earn.)

She'll simply have to improvise.

She keeps a steady pace as she runs through the woods, ignoring Amatus yelling profanities and threats in her direction. She has to think.

Yet she continues to land on nothing. Nothing that will guarantee her success over his. Everything comes with too much risk, and Amatus is so unpredictable.

Fuck it. She has to try. She has to succeed. She did not come this far to fail.

Plan. Her options seem limited but that's with a closed mindset. The arena is her workshop and she simply needs the right tools for the job.

Burnt trees, fallen sticks, and a ground full of crushed leaves. Those are what she has to work with.

(She can hear her grandfather telling her to make it work. She can hear him berating her for not thinking of something sooner.)

So she does. She thinks. She comes up with something.

(Choux Macbeth is used to confidence. For now, she'll have to be content to settle with reluctance.)

She waits for the right moment, the right set of trees. Then, as she passes them, she slinks behind the first tree. She can hear Amatus sliding on the dry ground, slowing down to reach her.

As she expects, he comes barreling around the corner. She lets him see her, just for a moment, just long enough to prepare.

Now.

She slinks behind the next tree, ending up opposite him. With her last knife in hand and his back to her, she comes in quick for an attack.

It lands just beside his shoulder, and his arm flings backward to nail her in the face. The contact hurts, and her nose is certainly bleeding if not at least a little broken. She stumbles back just enough to avoid the first swing of his sword.

"Bitch!" he yells at her as his sword gets closer. Choux fumbles for the last knife in her belt focused more on not letting Amatus remove her head from her shoulders.

He's quick. He's wild.

He seems uncoordinated, Choux deduces. The poison must be finally taking effect.

Choux can't wait for it to work faster. She has to strike again, and fast.

She ducks under the next swing, her last knife in her hand. She readies to send it into his chest, but he knocks her hand away with his fist. The knife goes flying and Choux tries to dive for it, but he's quicker. His free hand grabs her hair and sends her to the ground.

She struggles to catch her breath, her broken nose not helping in that sense. Her brain screams for her to move but her body fights her.

Amatus looming over her doesn't help the matter.

He raises his sword and she moves just enough for it to enter her bicep instead of her chest. She tries so hard to not give him the satisfaction of hearing her whimper in pain, but it escapes nonetheless. He cackles, ripping the knife out of his back. Blood drips down on her.

"You lose," he says. He flips the knife and impales it into her other arm. He pulls out the sword and holds it to her neck.

She can't stop the scream that escapes her lips, or the tears that start to fall.

(Failure.)

She can hear her grandfather's voice repeating over and over again in her brain.

(Failure. Failure. Failure. Disgrace.)

"No!" She grits her teeth, tasting a never-ending supply of tears and blood, and sends her heel into his knee. He drops the sword somewhere on the ground. She screams through the pain of ripping the knife out of her right. He tackles her back to the ground, fumbling for either blade.

She manages to get the knife blade into his side. He slams her head into the ground in retaliation, more blood dripping on her face.

Another kick into his stomach loosens his grip on her enough for her to scramble back to her feet. He reaches for her, and she sends her heel back into his face.

"Why won't you die!" she cries out.

(She hasn't felt this helpless since her siblings found joy in torturing her.

She will not lose control.)

She tries to reach the sword but he's still faster, even with multiple knife wounds letting fluids leak from his body. He tries to stand but his knees wobble and he can't reach her.

(Coward. Failure. Disgrace.)

No. Through Choux's pained breaths, she can only come to one conclusion.

She's a survivor.

She survived One. She survived the Capitol. How long has she been in this hell hole? It doesn't matter-she survived every fucking day.

(Survival isn't enough anymore. It's victory.)

Every movement hurts but she forces her legs to move to the fallen knife. She tries to wrap her fingers around the blade, and she does, but nothing about it feels secure.

She can barely stand upright.

She needs to kill him.

She looks at him, flailing around trying to stand, trying to attack her. Maybe the poison has finally taken hold.

The vomit that escapes his lips answers that question.

(Strike now.) Her grandfather's voice has never been more clear.

(Does he deserve a quick death?)

"I'll fucking gut you," he screams at her, still struggling to even get on his feet.

"Good luck," Choux says, sheathing the knife in her belt.

She stumbles away from Amatus, blood still falling from the damage he's done to her. He still yells at her, calling her as many names as he can think of. The list is long and under a different circumstance, Choux might react to them.

(After hearing them from her siblings, and her grandfather, real or in her head, she can say with confidence she's used to them.)

So she leaves him to wither away from the poison, to calculate what he did wrong if he can even admit to wrongdoing.

It doesn't matter. He'll be dead before the finale.

Choux has more important priorities.

Herself.

Vetiver Brune, 18, District 10

Azhador - Island B - 0750

Everything hurts. His leg, his hand, his chest. Vetiver has never felt pain like this before.

Nothing hurts as much as seeing Chaffinch curled up in a ball of blood.

Not even this much pain will stop him from crawling over to his friend.

He's barely breathing.

Chaffinch tilts his head weakly to meet Vet's eyes. He's pale, and the front of him is drenched in his blood.

(It's just like on his badger hunts. Their glossy eyes and shallow breaths only last a second as Vetiver does anything he can to end their suffering.)

Chaffinch isn't a badger. He's a boy.

(Not to the Capitol.)

"It's okay," Vetiver chokes on his own words and he doesn't even know where to start comforting him.

Vetiver wants to fix his friend. He wants to save him.

He can't.

Vetiver takes the small boy's hand in his own. A weak squeeze from him breaks Vetiver's heart.

(He knows he's dying.)

Vetiver Brune never used to cry much. He's cried when he's lost his pets. He's cried enough in these Games, sure, but at the end of the day, he forces himself to stay as strong as he can.

There's no energy left inside him to stay strong. There's no energy inside him to stop the tears from falling as Chaffinch's breathing continues to slow, and the color continues to leave his face.

Through the tears, he can see that Chaffinch's eyes have locked in on something above them. Despite the pain, his lips form a smile.

The thirteen-year-old is stronger than Vetiver could ever be.

Vetiver glances up. He almost misses it, the flash of orange flying off the branches, leaving behind the softest chirps. The boy in his lap chirps in response.

Vetiver's eyes fall back down to his friend and the tears continue falling. There he stays, his friend in his arms as he takes his last breaths, as the bird's chirps fill the arena around him. Vetiver Brune remains immobilized for a time, even through the firing of the cannon.

Even with the noise of the cannon, the birds keep singing.

He cries even harder, and the birds continue to chirp around him.

(It's not the end of Chaffinch Canasto. That's what the birds are saying.)

He's flying in the trees like he always wanted. Like he deserves. Nothing will take that away from him.

Vetiver gently sets the boy's body down. He closes his eyes for the last time.

As he forces himself up and gathers what little supplies they had between the two of them, he can feel his sadness start to shift into rage.

That…that monster did this to him. He killed Exa, he killed Chaffinch, and he left me for dead.

He should have killed me too, Vetiver thinks as his blood continues to boil.

He looks at his hands. The fingers on his left hand are gone. Vetiver can see bone. He rips off more of his already heavily damaged arena outfit to wrap them as carefully as he can. Every movement sends new pain through his nerves and fuels his anger even more.

(Has Vetiver Brune ever felt anger? True, unfiltered anger? He can't remember. He's never had anything to be mad about. Not really. Frustrated, sure. Irritated, maybe.

Vetiver isn't an angry person, but he's also never held his friend in his arms as he takes his last breath.)

He walks away from the scene. He doesn't look as the hovercraft flies in, or as it leaves.

He doesn't know where he's going. He doesn't have a plan in mind.

There's only one thing fueling him, and he's not proud of it.

How long does he walk before he hears the voices? He doesn't know. He doesn't recognize anything around him, nor is he trying to. He has his knife gripped tightly in his intact hand.

He should walk away. He should leave whoever's screaming alone. He doesn't need to involve himself with whoever is left in these Games.

Unfortunately, rage is stronger than sense.

Vetiver moves in closer, the yellings getting louder as he does. Despite hearing the words more clearly, none of them make sense to him, especially once he realizes who the voice belongs to.

Vet's grip on his knife gets stronger as he gets closer, and the scene in front of him doesn't make anything make any more sense.

The boy from Two, the boy that killed Chaffinch and mutilated Vet's hand, seizing around on the floor, covered in blood, cuts, and what Vetiver can only assume is vomit. A sword lays beside him, but he doesn't seem interested in grabbing it. In fact, as far as Vetiver can tell, the only thing he can do is writhe around and scream.

I didn't do this to him. Vetiver searches the area for another tribute. After some time, he finds a few bloodied footprints leading away from the Career's body.

His movements become less frequent, and Vetiver can't tell if it's exhaustion or death creeping up on him. He walks closer, close enough for the Career boy to finally see him.

"You're dead! You're dead…" he yells until he gasps for air. Vetiver takes a step back as he claws at his neck.

Vetiver isn't a stranger to death. He's seen these same movements when his dogs catch a badger but don't finish it off. The wreathing on the floor, the bloodstained fur, it's all too familiar to Vetiver.

Watching this boy struggle to hold onto his last breaths, it's just like the badgers.

Vetiver can't watch anymore.

He closes the distance and sends the knife straight into his heart. He cries out, and without thinking, he pulls the blade out and sinks it back into the boy's skin. Again…and again…and again. Even after the cannon fires, Vetiver fills the boy's body with holes.

It's his turn to vomit. He collects as many of the sprawled-out supplies as he can manage before crawling away. This time, he does watch the hovercraft carry the body out.

(Something about the first life he takes doesn't phase him. Maybe it's the fact he's still processing Chaffinch being gone. Maybe it's because all he did was end the boy's suffering quicker.)

How will he go on without his friend? How will he go on knowing it's his fault Chaffinch died?

How the hell will he continue to fight?

(He'll just have to find out.)

big thank you to ama for beta'ing this ;heart;

sobs

8th: Exa Behrens, D6, killed by Caliadne Karpathos, D4

I cannot even begin to start with how much I adore this girl. As soon as I got her form I envisioned almost everything I wrote for her in the story. Exa had so many layers and I loved exploring all of them, from her sisterly love to her unwavering determination to make a better system. Lupin, thank you so much for both of your kids, and I'm sorry I tortured them like so ;-;

7th: Caliadne Karpathos, D4, killed by Choux Macbeth, D1

Cali ;heart; I love Cali so much, much to rbs horror. I adored her relationship with Ronan, and I adored exploring her coping with the loss of that support. I know she was a big victor pick for many reading (and Exa) but I think she's at peace with Ronan now. Rb, thank you for trusting me with her. I love her ;heart;

6th: Chaffinch Canasto, D11, killed by Amatus Zanetti, D2

sobs. I can't put into words how much I love this strange boy. He doesn't speak, he throws things at people from trees, and he's so very special to me. I loved writing his shenanigans and his tender moments with Exa and Vet. I don't want to say goodbye ;-; Brooke, Brooke I can't thank you enough for trusting me with this small strange boy. I love him forever.

5th: Amatus Zanetti, D2, killed by Choux Macbeth, D1 & Vetiver Brune, D10

Ooooh Amatus. Amatus you freak ;heart;. Amatus is always incredibly fun to write for me. His weird moral code and inability to take fault was great to explore with the other Careers, especially Choux. Most people either loved or hated him and I certainly loved him. Void, thank you for your rats, and sorry for making him so unhinged ;heart;

One chapter left of Games ;-; I feel unwell. see you in two weeks.