Rick couldn't believe he was right. Travis really had been near his breaking point. President Clair wasn't too happy though, and she was staring open-mouthed at her screen. "He's dead."

His sarcasm was dripping, "Well yes, that tends to happen when one gets stabbed in the heart."

She slapped his popcorn, scattering the buttery kernels across the floor, "Do you have any idea how angry I am? That boy could've done so much for us."

"He already did. It all went perfectly as planned. Look, the ratings are going up! Betrayal, tragedy, a heartfelt conversation, and death. The ingredients of my perfect drama."

Clair stormed off, and Rick watched her go before turning back to the screens, rolling his eyes at her lack of enthusiasm.

◼▲◼

Calypso felt a piercing sting on her arm, and she resisted the urge to hit at the tracker jacker that'd got her. Killing one would only spur the others' anger.

The droning got louder, and they were already surrounded as the wasps circled them suspiciously, crushing the chance for Will to run. Calypso paused to yank out the stinger and flip up her jacket collar to protect her neck.

"There's a parachute," Will gasped, and he stood up to get it.

Calypso got out her knife and sliced the laces on her boot, hoping to slip her foot out and abandon the shoe.

It was still too tight at the bottom, and she couldn't wrench it out. "I hate you, Gamemakers. So, so much." She stabbed the earth right next to her shoe and started digging.

Will had returned with a box of matches. "The smoke will sedate the wasps."

"Well hurry up!" Another stung her on the other arm. It began to hurt whenever she moved the knife, but at least she could wiggle her foot now.

He seized a branch and wrapped it quickly with twine before lighting two matches and setting it on fire. He wafted it around under the nest.

They both held their breath as the buzzing quieted to a dull hum, and the tracker jackers slowly returned to their home.

Calypso's foot popped free, and she pulled her boot out and they decked it.

"That was way too close," Will panted as they ran. "Did you get stung?"

"Yeah, twice in the arms. You?"

"Face," he pointed, and she saw two punctures on one cheek that was quickly swelling. "And my hand. I've pulled them out already, but..."

She paled, "Then you've got it much worse. We need to find shelter before the hallucinations begin."

Calypso could recognize the leaves for treating tracker jacker stings, but she didn't see them as they trudged through the forest.

She asked Will if he'd spotted any, and her brain took a long time to put the sentence together, "Do you see...any of the...you know, plants for treating...?"

He'd turned his head at her voice, but he just blinked at her, "You have tree bark for skin."

Her hopes fell, "Come on." She managed to drag him to a tree and get him to stay put as she climbed, then helped him up.

There was an impossible amount of moths all over the tree, covering it like a rippling white blanket. "Hallucination," she chanted to herself as the insects crawled over her hands. "Hallucination. Hallucination."

"Calypso," Will mumbled as he slumped against the tree, weakly cradling his infected arm. His skin was turning into a rainbow of colours.

"...What?"

"We'll miss the anthem."

Then he fell unconscious, and Calypso slowly realized what he meant. They would be out for a day if they were lucky, days if they weren't, and they wouldn't know who'd died in that time. They wouldn't know whose cannon had fired a few hours earlier.

It took a minute for her to black out, the venom filling her dreams with nightmares of the ones she'd loved.

◼▲◼

"Have you got any other ideas?" Luke asked, prodding at the lizard they'd cooked for breakfast. They were sat on the ground in a woody area with enough foliage to provide cover.

Annabeth took a sip of water. Luke's return had brought on a whole lot of sponsors. The Capitol loved a devious plan, and she'd counted on that.

She addressed his question, "Why do you think I'm bursting with ideas?"

"Because you are."

"Well," she said, "I thought of using the parachute as bait. Or filling it with poisoned food and dropping it near someone. I'm not sure if we'll have to use it though."

He nodded, going back to the food. "It's a good plan though. Shall we go over who's left?"

"Sure." She put her food down and started counting on her fingers, "We've got the four Careers, who as far as we know are still in the forest and haven't split up, which usually happens when it's the final eight. Then the boy from Six, whose ally died yesterday. He must be in the forest too; I saw him run here at the beginning. Same with the girl from Six."

"I think it's possible he killed his ally," Luke added. "That guy's clever and I don't like the look of him. I swear he died at the bloodbath, but it turned out he faked his death. It's the first time anyone's done that, too."

She nodded, "Noted. Then there's the two from Seven, the girl being the first to use the bombs as a weapon. They weren't in an alliance, and the boy might still be in the desert after being wounded by Clarisse."

"Then we've got Nico from Twelve. I think he's also in the forest."

She hesitated, "I'm surprised he's alive, honestly. People from there tend to die within days. Anyway, that's twelve of us total, and the odds are that the vast majority are all here." She looked at her friend, "Do you realize how close we might be to each other if that's true? The acid rain cut down the size of the forest by a huge margin."

Luke ripped a slice of bread into bite-size pieces as he thought, "Is it pushing everyone to the hill or only out of the forest, do you think?"

"We know it also rains in the desert. I think to the hill, but we can't be sure. Feasts are usually at the Cornucopia, too, so I imagine they'd keep it at the center."

They ate in silence for a while. Thalia was roaming the forest, hunting for food. In the Training Center, Annabeth had advised her allies to train with the knife, because it was so versatile and the most likely weapon to find in the arena.

Thalia had taken a liking to the spear though, and Luke had remembered and taken one from the Cornucopia for her.

Luke didn't really talk to Thalia anymore. Annabeth wondered if he was frustrated that she was grieving over her brother.

"You can't fault Thalia," Annabeth said, knowing from his face that he was thinking about her too.

"I'm not," he said defensively. "I just — she hasn't done much. We saw a fox earlier and she ruined most of the meat by hitting it in the stomach."

She glared at him, "She couldn't possibly have known that the stomach releases acid. She worked in a district with virtually no animals. We know it because I learned about it in training. And besides, can you hit a running fox in exactly the right place?"

"Yeah, you're right," he said reluctantly, "but she was the one who woke it up."

"I'm not having this argument with you. I want Thalia with us and that's final. She's our friend."

Luke stared at her strangely, "Three people can't win, you know."

"And that was never my plan." Annabeth was done with him and turned away. The ring her father had given her rested on her in the hollow between her collarbone, strung through with a necklace. It had been her mother's first, and it made her feel closer to her. Smarter, even.

Luke just sighed.

◼▲◼

Rachel thought she'd make it to the end of the night. How was it possible to feel even thirstier than she did before?

She wondered why she hadn't received water. Either the audience didn't like her, or other tributes were more in need. She didn't know how in need she had to be to get anything, because she felt very close to death.

The trees were dead. That fact got more apparent the more she observed, and the more she withered herself.

What was her dad doing? Was he calmly paying bills, eating lunch, and chatting with Peacekeepers like usual? Or was he actually watching the Games?

Rachel had always said that her parents didn't care about her. She just never thought she'd die to have it proven.

She was camouflaged well. She'd shorn her hair short and covered herself with dirt. It didn't stick since it wasn't mud, but it worked well enough that when the Careers passed her, they didn't see her at all.

Rachel wished she had her paints. Maybe if she had lasted long enough, a sponsor would have gotten her some.

Standing up made her head spin, and she already had a headache. Her skin felt dry and feverish, and all she wanted to do was lie down and take a nap.

Her whole body ached now, and she resigned to lean against a tree and take what was coming. She wanted to at least die sitting up.

Her finger moved on the dirt, tracing a spiralling pattern of roses and hydrangeas, daisies and tulips. She had always liked flowers...

She shut her eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness until she stayed under. The pain had stopped, and she imagined that she was back in her own soft bed that so often smelled like cheap paint.

Rachel never heard her own cannon.

◼▲◼

Two days passed without much event besides another earthquake, and Thalia was restless. It was now the eighth night in the arena, and there had been no cannons since the one for the redheaded girl from Six.

She wanted to quickly go check on the snares. Nighttime was actually the safest time to go hunting. If Thalia went solely by the light of the moon, she was invisible to other tributes.

Luke had reluctantly offered to change the bandage on her right shoulder before she left, and she took that as a sign that he was trying to get on Annabeth's good side. The wound had reopened half a dozen times as she'd tossed and turned in her sleep or used her arm too much.

It worked as a distraction for her bereaved pain, but she knew her allies wished she would rest and let it heal before it got infected.

Luke patted it, "Done. Don't let it bleed again, alright? " She stood up and started down the tree, wincing as her wound still stung as she lowered herself down.

The first two snares she passed didn't have anything. She scoured the forest floor, taking the time to look up at the trees as well. Annabeth had seen a pair of owls once, and she had to be careful not to walk under any tributes.

Her bandage was too tight, she thought angrily, and it was making her arm numb. Another subtle way for Luke to spite her. He was always so bitter about her presence. As if it'd been her choice to lose her little brother. The one nice thing he'd done was get her a spear from the Cornucopia, but that was back when he'd deemed her "useful".

She wasn't sure why Annabeth was so adamant on keeping her with them, only that she had a big plan she wanted them all to be part of, but hadn't completely ironed out the details yet.

The third snare had caught a writhing squirrel. She dropped down, reaching for her hunting knife at her right.

There was an unmistakeable stabbing pain in her upper arm, which went numb. Her mind suddenly went dizzy as pain spread across her shoulder. Maybe she should adjust the bandage. She pulled down her jacket to see green veins spreading from her skin.

Her mouth fell open in realization. She fumbled with the knife and managed to get it in her other hand, and she haphazardly sliced off the white fabric.

As the bandage dropped to the floor, a black stinger tumbled out.

She felt sick, in more ways than one. She wondered if she should warn Annabeth, but what if she had a hand in this? Besides, it might take too long, and moving would merely make the poison circulate faster.

There weren't other options though, so she took off her backpack and began crawling back to their shelter with her heart pounding in terror. "ANNABETH!" she yelled.

No response. Luke might be keeping her distracted. She shook her head frustratedly. What could Annabeth do anyway?

Still, she pressed on. Dying from poison was not the death she wanted, and she cursed Luke for giving it to her.

Tears pricked her eyes even harder than the sting. As the salty droplets splashed on the dirt and she collapsed, she turned over onto her back, her spasming arm unable to support her any longer.

The moon's glow made the sky and clouds around it blue, so beautiful in a way it rarely was in real life. Blue like Jason's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, little brother, but I'm coming to protect you now."

◼▲◼

Once the dark feelings of mourning had dulled, Annabeth couldn't help feeling uneasy at Thalia's death.

When her face had flashed across the sky, Luke had dismissed it as murder by another tribute, reminding her of what she'd said about many people being in the forest with them.

It was probably stupid, but she was walking the path Thalia had taken at what was probably three in the morning, searching for clues under the moonlight.

The leaves got more plentiful, with more trees ripped of their leaves. It meant a hovercraft had been here. She walked faster, keeping a close watch for movement. There were a backpack and spear on the ground.

Thalia's hunting knife lay next to it, a crimson sheen of blood shining on the blade.

Annabeth froze, scanning the area warily and keeping a firm grip on her dagger. An attack from another tribute didn't make sense. They would have taken at least some of her supplies. And if it was a mutt, there'd be more of a mess.

After more rooting around, she found a white bandage stained with blood.

Her mind flashed back to the knife, Why would Thalia cut off her own bandage? And so carelessly, too?

She unfurled the bandage. Mixed in with the blood were black fragments of a shell.

Annabeth dropped it, stumbling back. "No no no no no."

When she had returned to their tree, she still did not dare to believe it. All the evidence was against him, but she had to be absolutely sure, because it couldn't be, even it had to. She ripped open her pack, revealing that, indeed, one stinger was missing.

She held her dagger out in front of her as she harshly shook Luke awake. His eyes flew open and he nearly impaled himself as he sat up, "Annabeth! What —?"

"Luke," she gasped. "You put the stinger under Thalia's bandage! You killed her!"

He blinked at her. The silence dragged on for way too long, and he knew it. Finally, he spoke. "How did you know?"

"Because I know you, Luke. I could tell something was up. You barely had any reaction when Thalia's face showed up minutes after the cannon. Then I went and found the stinger."

He scowled fiercely, "I can't believe it. I'd timed it so that I'd simultaneously have an alibi and prevent you from investigating the cannon. I'd —"

"I don't care how you planned it!" she cried, straining to keep her voice low. "Why did you do it?"

"You know why," he snapped. "It's one less contestant. She wasn't even that much of a contribution."

" 'One less contestant'?" she raged, removing the knife and driving it into a branch. "What is wrong with you!? Have you forgotten our ENTIRE PLAN?"

Annabeth hadn't meant to blurt it out, but she was lucky that'd been it.

"Plan? Plan?!" he shouted. "Oh, you mean —" she hit him, and he lowered his voice to a hiss and covered his mouth, "you mean trying to get all three of us out? That's insane, Annabeth, and you know it. At least with only two of us, it'll be much easier for one of us to win. Winning is what actually gives us something, not escaping."

"You didn't give her a chance!" she snarled. "The least you could do was not kill her. That was it! You gave her a death she never would have wanted. Why didn't you trust me?"

"I'm increasing our chances!" he snapped back. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she leaned back and he dropped his hand. "Why is that so hard for you to understand? If there's finally a victor from District Eight, maybe it'll finally be the golden district. Our people will stop dying in factories!"

"People are dying everywhere, Luke! What makes our district more deserving of help when the people of District Five live next to nuclear power plants? Was their victor from six years ago able to fix that? You think you can rebuild District Eight from the ground up just by winning?"

"I intend to try. Meanwhile, you — you want to run off and start a rebellion. That's suicide to think you can make a difference. It's what got your mother executed!"

His words angered her, "We talked about this long before we were reaped. Do you remember? That we'd rebel together."

"Yeah, well, not anymore! We're in the Games now, and that changes everything. What matters is that I come home alive with actual money to spend and the Capitol stays happy!"

"You want attention!" she screeched. "You keep talking about helping our district. That's something I can get behind, but I know you're lying. You want to be a famous victor! It was always like this. It's you and that stupid apple tree all over again! You weren't reaching for food but recognition!"

His hand went up to touch the place where his scar used to be. He was still menacing without it. "District Eight is laughed at almost worse than Twelve. The Capitol thinks all we do is weave and dye fabrics, well I'll show them! And if I really do win, then yeah, I'll help feed the poor. And I'll move my crazy mother far far away from me. It doesn't matter how many others I have to kill for it. At least I have good reasons. I can make District Eight better. I know I can."

"Those are empty promises like the Capitol's." And before he could protest, she asked quietly, "And what about me?"

He faltered, "What?"

The anger gone, her voice wavered with sadness instead, "You keep saying 'I'. Am I dead in your dream vision of the future?"

Luke stared at her for a long time. "Better you than me."

Ignoring her stunned look of betrayal, he shouldered his backpack. "Since we clearly don't agree on how we're playing this game, I'm leaving." He climbed down, snatching away her breakfast as he did.

The ability to speak left her, and he was already on the ground before she could force her words out. Years of friendship begged her to call him back. "Wait — you don't have to leave. Luke!"

"Just so you know," he shouted up at her, "you're the only player crazy enough to be thinking about something more than winning. I'm doing this my way."

She held back tears, scowling, "Then I'll do it mine."

He trudged out of view, not glancing back once. It was so dark out that she quickly lost sight of him, but each footfall felt like he was throwing something at her heart.

"Why?" she whispered. But she knew the answer. He wanted fame and thought he deserved it more than anyone else, so much so that he'd break his promise of staying the way he was, and his promise of family.

Still, she would be asking him why for the rest of her life, however long that would be.

Annabeth rubbed her eyes. She'd lost two friends in less than a day, but at least working solo gave her two options instead of one. If she wanted to survive, she could now win as well as escape.

Their entire conversation had been dangerous territory, so she glared up at the sky, knowing the cameras could see her even through the leaves.

She willed out her most authoritative voice, the same one she'd used to win over the audience during her interview. "I know that all may have sounded bad, but you really don't want to kill me, Head Gamemaker. I've got a brilliant plan that you'd love to see."