ENTRY ONE - REAPING
I rose with the sun.

I completed my usual morning chores with an unusual thoroughness, with an air of finality. It was Reaping Day, and I knew today had the possibility of being my last day in District Ten. Once all the livestock were taken care of, I returned to my room and grabbed a quill and paper to write a letter. After I was done, I sealed it and took it outside.

Most people went to the Reaping with their families. I went by myself.

Melisande, my faithful horse, nickered gently as I took her out of her stall. She, too, knew what day it was. I got on without a saddle and buried a hand in her mane, making a tight fist while my other hand clutched the letter. I clucked my tongue, and whispered in her ear.

"You know where to go. Go on, Mel."

Without hesitation, she trotted forward and in the direction of the Hall of Justice.

I lived far from almost everyone else in District Ten. All around my house lay fields and hills of green and gold, decorated by flowers, trees, and the sun's beautiful rays. I had to travel the most to get to the Reaping every year, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I didn't like to socialize much. I would if I had to, but I liked to be alone. It's how I was since I was eight, anyway, so I was very used to it.

Almost everyone was there by the time I arrived. I got off Melisande and patted her before looking into her warm brown eyes and sending her off back to her stall. She knew how to lock herself back in.

I got registered and stood next to other females my age. Most looked nervous. I wasn't really.

The video of the history of the Hunger Games played. I let it fade to background noise as I fingered the gold and jade green dragonfly pin in my hair.

I'd got it when I was seven, and at the time, it had looked huge on my head, but my mother had promised me I'd grow into it. And I had. Too bad she hadn't stuck around to see.

"Hello!" Dax's friendly, loud voice made it sound like he was right next to me, even though I was in the back half of the crowd. I wondered how many young ones in the front smiled. I was one of them, once. It was easy to listen to that engaging voice and see him as a sort of older brother, especially since he was only twenty now. I could hear cooing from the back, where eighteen year-olds appreciated the close-up view the giant screen gave them of his attractive features, from the top of his messy blue hair to his shoes, which were the same blue.

"Citizens of District Ten, welcome! Welcome to the Reaping of the 73rd Annual Hunger Games. What a wonderful day this is. Before today ends, two of you will be lucky enough to see the grandeur of the Capitol with your very eyes." Dax's sincere blue eyes sparkled on the big screen. He stood up and headed toward the Reaping Balls. He drew the first note from the females' one.

"Leona Faline," he announced with a charming smile.

I knew no one would react or volunteer. Most of them didn't know who I was. Still holding the letter, I pushed my way through the crowd and walked up the stairs to stand next to Dax, who grinned at me playfully.

"What's that?" He asked, motioning toward the letter.

I hid it behind my back and didn't respond, other than to shrug coolly.

"Okay, none of my business." He laughed, and picked the other name from the other Reaping Ball.

"Corvin Averett," Dax read brightly, and I spotted one boy's face turn pale. He was even more easily distinguished when the people around him backed away, leaving him exposed.

Seconds ticked by, and no one volunteered. That was expected, because this was District Ten. No one really volunteered, unless it was a twelve year-old who was called. And sometimes, we didn't volunteer then, either. In the last Quarter Quell, the Reaping Balls had only been filled with the names of twelve year-olds, and no volunteering had been allowed.

We'd watched our tributes get stabbed to death in the bloodbath on the first day.

Corvin looked like he thought he was about to get stabbed, too. His face was completely white, and he wouldn't stop shaking like a leaf. He ignored Dax's efforts at a friendly conversation.

Dax looked over at me, and we exchanged a knowing glance. Corvin wasn't going to make it very far at this rate, and we all knew it.

"All right, folks," Dax said, quieting the crowd. He took my free hand and Corvin's hand and raised it to the sky. "Your tributes for this year's Games!"

The crowd clapped politely. Corvin gulped, and I smiled.

The Peacekeepers on stage took me to a small room, where I waited for visitors.

Time passed, and the Peacekeepers grew confused, checking in on me every now and then as I waited patiently.

"Okay," one of them finally said. "Let's take her to the station. Looks like you're alone, Miss."

I smiled, and pointed to the door, which opened, revealing a russet-haired boy.

"Sorry for being late," he apologized. "I got held up-"

"You get one minute," a Peacekeeper said bluntly, and the Peacekeepers left. We heard their footsteps stop just outside the door.

The boy, Marshall, turned his hazel gaze to me. "Leona, I'm sorry."

I tilted my head. "Nothing to be sorry about. I might come back, you know."

He looked down. "Yeah."

I laughed and handed him the letter. "I knew you'd come."

"What?" His cheeks turned slightly pink. "Why..How? What?" He accepted the envelope and observed it for a few seconds.

Raising my eyebrow, I said, "Obviously because you're the butcher's son. You're the only one I see who's my age when I need to sell meat because I go straight to the butcher and back. You're the only one who somewhat knows me."He chuckled. "I think that's the most you've ever said at once."I smiled and shrugged. "Goodbye, Marshall."

The Peacekeepers entered the room, and Marshall followed them out."Make sure I see you again," he said, and I nodded."I'll do my best."

The door shut, and other Peacekeepers led me to a car, which drove me to a train station.

Mr. Leaf, a.k.a. Corvin, was already there when I arrived. I wondered how many calories he'd burned by shaking for this long, and if he'd have a six-pack by the time we arrived at the Capitol. We boarded the train, and it started off. With the help of this high-speed vehicle, I'd find out the answer soon.

ENTRY TWO - INTERVIEW & TRAINING

When I got up, Corvin was gone. He wasn't in his room, or the bathroom, or the dining room, or on our floor at all—just gone.

Suicide? I wondered for a fleeting second, before shooing the thought from my head. Of course not. Corvin was an incredibly nervous fellow, but something in his gaze underneath all that fear told me he wouldn't give up easily.

That fact kept me calm while everyone else scurried about in a panic. I changed into my training outfit, a gray shirt and pants with a brown “10” on my left shoulder, leisurely ate breakfast, and left for training, where I was sure I'd see him.

Sure enough, Corvin was there throwing knives at a target when I arrived. He saw me, and paused mid-throw. He wiped sweaty, dark hair from his forehead.

“Hi, Leona,” he said. “Just been warming up.”

I took in the way he panted, the way the trainer next to him was looking at him with a mixture of pity, amusement, and respect, and the way the collection of knives that he'd thrown had landed around the target instead of on it.

I nodded slowly, pursing my lips. Um...Good luck.

He grinned and threw the knife he was holding, and it struck the outermost edge of the target. His mouth dropped open.

“I made it!” He whooped, and a Career within hearing range sarcastically clapped. Corvin flushed and his hand went to the back of his neck. “Whoops, didn't mean to be so loud. Hey, Leona, can I train with you?”

I shrugged, and he took that as a yes.

“So, where are we going to go?” He asked, and I pointed to a giant silver cube. I figured it would be an obstacle course.

Upon entering, the door closed behind us, and we were encased in darkness.

“Welcome to the Intelligence Obstacle Course, where we will be testing and training your instincts.” A mechanical voice echoed, and beside me, Corvin gulped.

So I was right.

“The timer starts now.” 

A small flame ahead flickered on, revealing the mouth of a cavern. I motioned to Corvin to follow my lead, and I carefully crept inside.

Bats flew and squeaked overhead, and water dripped in the distance. I found that the entrance was mainly lit with an electric torch. I took it from its perch and gave it to Corvin to hold, which he did with a reverence that slightly amused me.

After turning a single corner, we had to stop.

“A dead end?” Corvin questioned, and pounded the wall. It was solid, so it wasn't an illusion. “What's the use in—”

“Shh,” I said, grabbing the torch from him. This wall doesn't look the same as the other ones. This isn't part of the cavern at all...It must be a fake wall. I touched the flaming tip to where the passageway seemed to end, and then gave the torch back to Corvin.

The wall crackled with fire, catching, and burned away, the flames promptly dying out after revealing our next obstacle. A chasm lay between us and a higher platform, which was made out of metal with holes punched in like a cheese grater. I could see light above the platform, so we didn’t have to rely on torchlight from this point.

I looked around for materials to get us across.

“Up there,” said Corvin, pointing at the ceiling. A shining grappling hook protruded from the rock, gleaming.

Good eye. I shot him a proud smile and he ducked his head bashfully. I motioned for him to bend over, and climbed on his back. Our heights combined were just high enough so I could barely reach the hook. With tremendous effort, I yanked the hook out, and fell off Corvin because of its unexpected weight—a thick cord was attached. I immediately shot back up.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

I nodded, fixing my gaze on a hole in the platform ahead. Carefully, I swung the hook around me by the cord a few times, gaining speed each swing, and let go. The grappling hook soared through the air and landed on the platform, and I pulled it back until it got caught in a hole. I made sure it was firmly in place, and then motioned to Corvin to climb.

He handed me the torch and climbed up the rope to the platform, surprisingly without showing any sign of a struggle. 

I motioned for him to catch the torch, since I needed both hands to climb. Even if we wouldn’t need it for the next obstacle, we might have to use it later, so I didn’t want to take the risk. I turned the torch off and tossed it to him.

He missed.

The torch went clattering into the chasm. The drop wasn’t too far down, but one would have to climb the nearly vertical ledge to get back up, and that’d take too much time.

Both of us stared at where it had landed for a silent moment.

I took a breath to keep my temper in check and climbed the rope. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he repeated after I’d made it to the other side. “I thought I had it.”

I waved him off, shaking my head. It doesn’t matter, let’s move on.

The platform was fairly long. It inclined steeply and led to the next level of the course. After we crossed, we found ourselves in a jungle-like environment. Vines hung from trees, and almost everything was bright green. Occasional rays of sunlight, or rather, artificial light, streamed through the thick foliage.

Corvin made to keep walking in the same direction we’d been going, but I put up a hand as a sign for him to wait. I picked up a stick from the ground and hurled it in front of us.

It landed on the ground like a normal stick.

I narrowed my eyes and tried again, throwing it further. This time, the stick seemed to bounce off something mid-air in the distance.Forcefield, just as I expected. We’ve been going in the same direction for some time, and the cube is only so big.

Corvin and I turned around and walked in the other direction, avoiding the platform we’d just come from. We encountered knives on the ground, and picked a few to carry with us.

Soon, we came to a wall of vines. We hacked our way through, and a few feet later, came to another vine wall. We cut through that as well, but with more difficulty. I swore that every time I took my eyes off a vine I’d cut it would seal itself back together.

At last, we came to what I knew had to be the final wall, for the vines were almost as thick as my wrist and seemed so alive that they were squirming, like a tangled mess of large, green worms. Corvin and I started chopping the vines, and at first it looked like we were making some headway, but I soon realized that they were healing and growing faster than we could cut.

I suddenly felt a tug at my ankle, and saw vines quickly wrap around my legs, tightening like a vise and re-growing every time I cut one off. I pushed Corvin back before he could get trapped, too.

He saw what was happening to me. “What do I do?” He asked, panic showing in his eyes.

I knew we needed the torch for something. “Fire,” I said, and swore as the vines wrapped around one of my wrists and pulled my body closer.

“Okay.” His eyes steeled. “I'll get the torch. Be right back.” He took off in the direction of the cavern.

“Corvin, don't!” I shouted after him, but he ignored me and kept running. I doubted if he'd come back and wondered what would happen if the vines completely enveloped my body. Would they release their grip eventually? Would we fail the obstacle course?

A daring vine wrapped around my torso. I hissed and hacked the strangling plant off with my knife. If Corvin was going to somehow pull this off, I was going to buy him as long a time as I could.

A few minutes of endless chopping later, I heard footsteps. It can't be Corvin. He can't possibly be back this early. I tensed, ready for a struggle with a beast or other obstacle, and looked up, clutching my knife.

“I'm back,” Corvin said, holding the flaming torch. He touched the torch to the vines behind me and they all recoiled, setting me free. He kept approaching until one was forced to touch the fire and catch, which set the entire clump up in flames.

They burned quickly and disintegrated, revealing a metal door underneath.

I turned to Corvin. “How?”

He looked unsure. “I was just...really, really lucky, that's all.”

I crossed my arms, but his face showed the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it, and we were wasting time. My gaze softened.

“Thanks,” I said, and patted him on the shoulder before opening the door and stepping through with him close behind.

We stepped into a windowless room with thirty targets staggered at the far end. A pool of a lava-like substance lay between us and the targets. No heat was emanating from the lava, but I didn't question the Capitol’s materials. A bow and a full quiver, a bucket of knives, and a rack of spears lined the wall closest to us.

My eyes widened as I realized what this was.

The mechanical voice returned. “Hit all these targets with the weapons provided. If you run out before all the targets are hit, your time for the course will be canceled and you will be escorted to the start to try again.”

“Oh, no,” Corvin said, taking a spear. “Leona, please tell me you're good at this.”

Slowly, I shook my head. I'm good with close combat weapons, but this...this isn't my forte. 

I took the bow and quiver and drew back an arrow. I’d practiced archery with Marshall several times for fun, but it would be a lie to say I was extremely skilled at it. I was pretty average with a bow.

I aimed and fired. Too short. Again—too long, this time. Another try...thunk. I hit the target, and it sank into the wall. 29 to go.

I managed to hit a bit more than I missed; I managed to down twelve of them before I ran out of arrows.

Corvin had hit eight with the spears, which was pretty impressive for him.

We now had to rely on the knives. We had twenty knives and ten targets. Splitting up the knives half and half, we began throwing.

Thunk. Clank. Each thunk was a target, and each clank was a miss. I focused solely on my throws until I had no knives left and I’d hit six of the targets.

Corvin had hit one, and had used up all but three of his knives. Upon realization of the fact that he'd have to make every single throw from that point on, he narrowed his eyes and concentrated.

Thunk. Outermost edge.

Thunk. An inner circle.

He paused before this throw and took a deep breath. Then he let the last knife fly.

I held my breath as the blade cut through the air.

Thunk.

I looked at Corvin, shocked.

Bull’s-eye.

The lava between us and the far wall hardened and became indistinguishable from the floor we were standing on. We ran to the other side and found a door, which we opened.

Light.

A trainer stood on the other side.

“Good job,” she said, looking impressed. “You’re number one on the scoreboard so far.”

Our names appeared on a digital plaque next to the station. Corvin’s eyes widened.

“No, wait,” he said. “Can you take my name off? We only made it because of Leona, so I feel bad taking credit.”

I shook my head before the trainer could respond. “No, I couldn't have done it without you. Don't erase it, please.”

“I—okay.” He shrugged. “What time is it?”

“Lunch break,” the trainer said. “It'll be over soon, though.”

I nodded. “I'll be right back, I just need to use the restroom. Stay here,” I told Corvin.

When I came back, his name was off the plaque, and he was gone. When I asked the trainer, she told me he insisted and went to his room because he wasn't feeling well.

I didn't believe it for a second, but I needed to use this time to train. I stopped by my floor quickly to get a bite to eat, asked an Avox if Corvin had eaten—she nodded—and went straight back down.

I skipped the trap, fire-building, camouflage, and plant memorization stations, because I already had them mastered. Instead, I went straight to the projectile stations, where I listened to every tip and strategy from every available trainer and practiced on stationary and moving targets. I learned every grip and technique I could, and shot and threw for the rest of the day.

I couldn't afford to miss in the arena.

I smoothed the soft fabric of my amber dress and lightly touched the dragonfly pin in my hair, which held my elegant bun in place on the back of my head. It was my turn next, and the boy from Nine had just left the stage to a round of applause.

“District Ten, Leona Faline.”

I made sure I had a serene expression on before walking to the entrance of the stage. A hand on my shoulder stopped me. I turned around to face Corvin.

“Do great, okay?” He asked.

I raised an eyebrow at him curiously. Why did he seem so confident now?

His smile turned nervous. “Because you'll need to, to make up for me,” he added.

I smiled, shaking my head, and headed onstage. Don’t worry. Anyone who had met me definitely knew I preferred to keep to myself, but I needed to be open and charismatic for the Capitol tonight, so open and charismatic I would be. It’d be a total character change, and no one would see it coming.

I felt cameras turn on me, so I smiled my most winning smile and walked over to Zane Jekyll, the announcer, who stood and greeted me warmly. He reminded me strongly of Dax, even though they were 21 years apart. Maybe it was the fact that they shared blue hair and a friendly smile, though Zane’s hair was so bright, it seemed almost an insult to describe it with such a bland adjective as “blue.” Currents of energy seemed to be constantly running through every follicle.

“Leona Faline,” he said, shaking my hand, and I half-expected to find myself electrocuted from his touch. “A pleasure.”

“Pleasure to meet you too,” I replied, and we sat down.

“I must say,” he began, “I really like your eyes. They're the most exquisite color, and they match your dress. Are they natural?” 

A camera close to me zoomed in on my face, and I could see the close-up projected on the screen out of the corner of my eye. The audience oohed in delight.

I thanked him, beaming. “Yes, they're natural. Hopefully you can see more of my amber eyes when I come back,” I said, winking playfully.

The audience laughed and Zane chuckled.

“If you come out victorious, we will all definitely look forward to it,” he told me, and I saw faces in the crowd nod and smile.

“I'll look forward to seeing your hair, too,” I said, and touched a finger to my cheek in mock deep thought. “Not that I'll ever have to worry about forgetting its vibrancy. I surely can't. You've redefined the color ‘electric blue,’ Mr. Jekyll.”

The crowd roared in laughter, and Zane had to wipe tears from his eyes.

“Please, call me Zane,” he said. “Oh, my. This interview is about you, not me. What have my blue hair and I done?” He wrung his hands in feigned horror, and the audience dissolved in another round of chuckles and giggles.

“It's okay!” I declared fiercely. “We can fix this!” I scooped up the interview cards off the arm of his chair and handed them to him with a dramatic flair, which he accepted graciously.

“Thank you very much,” he said. “Now, let’s get started before we run out of time.” 

The audience was eating our performance up, and I was glad to see that everyone I looked at was paying close attention. It had to be tiring to watch 24 interviews in a row, and some people had probably already committed to sponsoring other tributes, so the fact that everyone was watching with amusement was incredible. Now, I had to give them someone to really root for and remember.

“Let’s,” I agreed. Bring it on.

“As we all know, you're from District Ten,” Zane started, “which provides livestock to the Capitol. You must have a special connection to the animals you raise, no?”

“I do,” I assured. “I don't know what my life would have been like without animals around me every day. I especially adore my horse, Melisande, and do believe that I hold a special connection with every animal I own. It's a very personal relationship that I know some in the audience are well aware of.”

Some faces in the crowd nodded, and several even showed the pets they’d brought, enthusiastically sharing my sentiment.

“However,” I continued, “this special connection falls a very close second on my list of favorite things about Ten.”

“Oh?” Zane asked, pleasantly surprised. “Well, that's a very interesting development. Tell me, then. What is your favorite part of your district?”

I closed my eyes for a moment and recalled the breathtaking image of District Ten’s landscape before reopening them. “My favorite part is the scenic aspect of District Ten. All around my house, there are rolling hills of green, gold, and flowers. It's an incredible view.”

“I'm sure it is,” Zane agreed. “Here in the Capitol, we have some pretty amazing views too. Which brings me to my next question: What's your favorite thing about the Capitol?”

I smiled. “This is a no-brainer, Zane. It has to be the pets. I've had an actual conversation with a camouflage-colored bird and ridden on a huge, scaly, chartreuse wolf.” Laughing, I added, “We definitely don't see animals like these where I come from. And they have very interesting names.”

Most Capitol residents knew of the animals that I was referring to. The bird, Cyntha, and the wolf, Zyro, were popular Capitol attractions, and many a parent would take his or her child to the street where these creatures roamed. They even inspired citizens to adopt odd pets of their own. Even Dax owned a bright yellow peacock, Boltière, who loved anything sour and sweet and could talk and fly.

“I believe you have a very interesting name, too,” Zane commented, and I smiled. “Care to tell us what it means? Do you know?”

I nodded. “Of course. Leona means ‘lion.’ My last name, Faline, means ‘like a cat.’ Cats are very confident creatures, and I think I share that trait. You could say I'm feline pretty good about my odds for this Hunger Games,” I said, and winked directly at the camera.

After the laughter died down, Zane crossed his arms in mock disbelief. “Come on, Leona. There's got to be someone you’re concerned about. Tell me, who is your biggest threat?”

I decided to give him a direct answer, since I knew everyone else would shy away from answering the question specifically. Also, I knew he wouldn't be expecting the name that came out of my mouth.

“Carlie Simms.”

Sure enough, Zane froze for a second or two before his announcer instinct kicked in. “Can I ask why?”

“Obvious fighters will be easy to avoid, but she relies on stealth, like me,” I explained. “I'll need to keep an eye out, especially since she's skilled with throwing knives.”

Zane nodded in understanding. “What are you most worried about in the Games?”

I noticed he was down to his last card, and I knew I needed to make this answer end on a high note.

“I'm most worried about the arena. If it's a very open space, I won't be able to hide well. I'm not strong enough for a prolonged head-on fight.” After a moment, I fixed the camera ahead with a determined stare. “But I'll do all I can to make sure it doesn't come to that. And if the arena is anything else, which I'm almost positive it will be, I plan on making it very far, if not to the end.”

The audience started to clap even before Zane and I stood up. One could barely hear Zane’s voice over the applause, shouting, “Ladies and gentlemen, Leona Faline!”

I walked offstage with a bright smile and the crowd’s cheers still ringing in my ears.

ENTRY THREE - FIRST DAY

I knew the arena changed every year. That's why I wasn't surprised when instead of light, my eyes met darkness when I rose from the tunnel.

Torches and tapestries lined the stone walls. Tributes stood in a ring around the Cornucopia, a colossal structure of mossy rocks. Weapons and supplies littered the ground within the ring, and most of them were at the mouth of the rocky cave.

“Fifty.” A large projection of the number 50 appeared over the Cornucopia, and ticked down with the countdown. “Forty-nine. Forty-eight.”

I looked to my right, where I could make out Corvin’s features. He didn't look nervous. In fact, he was meeting my gaze, unfaltering.

Corvin’s lips moved. “I lied to everyone.”

I gave him a quizzical stare.

“I'll show you,” he whispered. “I'm sorry.”

I shook my head, confused, and looked around at the other tributes. The girl from Nine, a tall, tough-looking brunette, glared at me and adjusted her stance so she was facing my direction. I supposed she had chosen me as her first victim.

Deciding not to look anyone else in the eye, I focused on the supplies near the Cornucopia. Several large backpacks lay temptingly, but I knew better than to charge for one. There would likely be a fight for each backpack, so I targeted a small supply—a tiny, red-hilted dagger.

“Leona,” I heard Corvin say from my right.

I turned to see tears streaming down his face. Instantly, I grew concerned. What was wrong? Why wasn't he preparing to run?

He quickly rubbed the tears away with his sleeves. “I'm not going to make it back,” he told me with a bone-chilling confidence. “I'm going to die in this bloodbath. But I want you to win. The other tributes laughed at me, but you're the only one who's stuck up for me here.”

I looked down, gently scuffing the platform at my feet with the heel of my left combat boot. It was true that he'd been bullied during training, and I'd stopped the harassment by threatening them with my gaze and a trap display in which I completely shredded a dummy, but that wasn't worth his life at all. I looked back up to tell him not to give up, but saw that his expression was already set. The look in his eyes showed he was already defeated before the Games had even begun, but it was mixed with a strange resilience.

The countdown hit the ten mark.

“I saw you looking at the knife,” he whispered. “When the countdown reaches zero, go for it. I'll keep that girl at bay—trust me.” He nodded in the direction of the girl from District Nine, who was still tearing me apart with her eyes.

“Three. Two.”

I nodded.

“One.”

The horn sounded, and chaos ensued.

I dashed to the knife and made a quick grab for it. Dodging an axe throw, I ran back to Corvin, who was sparring the six-foot girl with his bare fists and was winning.

Openmouthed, I watched him knock her out cold without a scratch on himself.

It suddenly came to me that Corvin had been pulling a Johanna Mason on everyone the entire time. There was no way he could do that yet get a three in his private training session. Every nervous action he had done had been calculated to portray him as weak. He'd convinced everybody.

He looked at me and the knife in my hand. “She's all yours,” he said, and I could tell he knew I had figured his secret out. He gave me a sad smile. “I'll take out as many of the other tributes as I can. Please survive, Leona. Win.”

With that, he ran into the fray of tributes, grabbing a sword and charging toward his first target. He wielded his weapon expertly, dropping more than a few mouths in the battle.

I heard cannons go off. The tribute at my feet started to moan, and, adrenaline and instincts kicking in, I stabbed her until her cannon went off as well.

I left the thoroughly bloodied knife in her corpse. I didn't want to look at it anymore.

Right before I escaped the bloodbath, I looked back at the fighting. Corvin was attacking Lenna, the girl from District Two, and she was barely dodging. With his skill, though, he'd crush her soon.

He swung his sword at her neck, and from the way her scream died in her mouth and her eyes widened, I knew that was it. She would be dead in a second, when his blade would sever her head from her torso.

But Cayden, the other tribute from Two, suddenly materialized next to Corvin and grabbed his neck in a bonecrushing chokehold. Then I heard a violent snap, and Corvin fell to the ground, where he lay motionless.

My hand flew to my mouth, pressing tightly to prevent a bloodcurdling scream from giving away my position. I backed away towards a passageway. I could hear footsteps, but they were rapidly fading away, and I didn't attempt to follow.

The sickening visual of Corvin’s neck snapping flashed through my head again, and I winced, sliding to the floor against a wall of the passageway. Tears blurred my vision. Seeing the girl I'd killed was a stone in the bottom of my stomach, but seeing Corvin, the boy I’d trained, talked, and eaten with brutally murdered in front of me was my heart ripping out of my chest. I gasped for air, no longer caring about staying quiet.

I sat there for several minutes before I realized Corvin’s cannon hadn’t gone off, which could mean only one thing.

He wasn't dead.

I looked back towards the remnants of the bloodbath and saw that the girl from District Nine, along with all the other fallen tributes, had disappeared, courtesy of the Capitol. However, Corvin was still lying on the floor next to the Cornucopia. No one else was around.

After quickly making sure he was alone, I rushed to his side. Corvin’s body was lying with his back facing up, his head leaning at an odd angle against his upper left arm. His right arm was splayed out perpendicular to his body, and his legs were rigid and unmoving. Although his neck was bent, he was still miraculously breathing. The breaths seemed to be forced, but he was alive.

In some cases, the medical trainer had said when I'd visited her station, the neck can be broken low enough or in a manner that does not kill off the victim immediately, rather subjecting him or her to varying degrees of paralysis of voluntary motor control function from the neck down as well as voluntary control over breathing. The victim is still doomed, only the death will come slower if he is left alone.

Corvin’s eyes widened when he saw me approaching, and flicked to a point above my shoulder, causing me to briefly pivot and spot the Capitol camera watching from a point in the ceiling. We returned our attention to each other, ignoring the fact that we were likely being broadcast on TV.

“Don't...move...me,” he mouthed, each word a mountain of effort.

“I know,” I whispered. “Corvin, I'm so sorry.”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Not...your fault.”

I could tell he had but minutes left to live. “You did great,” I told him. “You fooled everyone into thinking you were weak when you actually had the capacity to fight just as well as any of them.” I laughed, but felt tears return and prick my eyes. “Even me. You...you sacrificed yourself for me.” I stopped and bit my lip before I could fully break down.

Slowly, the edges of his lips curled into a tired but genuine smile.

“What do I do now?” I asked, bowing my head out of sight from the camera and letting a few tears fall.

His eyes reopened, with a barely-there fire. “Win,” he choked out adamantly. “It’s about time...District Ten...got a new...Victor.”

Win for me, Leona, his eyes demanded.Please.

The incredible exertion drained him of energy and he closed his eyes with an air of finality. He grew still, and exhaled for the last time.

His cannon fired.

With a tearstained face, I looked into the lens of the Capitol camera. I held eye contact until the stones underneath Corvin lowered, pulling his body underground, where I was sure a Capitol machine was waiting. Then I exhaled a shaky breath and arose before running back into the passageway.

Right, left, left, right. I navigated the Capitol’s maze with a determined expression. I grabbed a sharp stone lying on the floor of one of the halls and continued to run nonstop until I finally emerged from the grasp of the castle’s labyrinth.

Cool night air hit my face, and I could only see about the distance of my hands outstretched in front of me. The moon had most likely hidden behind the tree. How long had I been inside the castle?

I thought of returning to the castle, but decided against it. I didn't want to be where Corvin had died and relive the scene more than I was already going to. Besides, most of the tributes had probably exited the castle, anyway, and that's where I needed to be to kill them.

Screw the things that went bump in the night, whether Capitol-created or naturally existing. I would set up traps and hunt all of them down. I would not let Corvin’s sacrifice be in vain. I had intended to win when I’d first been reaped, but now I had another reason to, and that reason kept me running through the thick forest to the early hours of the morning. 

It eventually became just light enough for me to see a good distance away, and I found an abandoned burrow to hide in. There was no animal in sight, but there were signs that the forest had once been a haven for animals and plants alike before the vegetation had grown out of control. After clearing many different plants out of the way, I slid down the entrance to the burrow and found myself in a comfortably large room.

Even though where I was had originally been a burrow, I could tell the Capitol had had a hand in the expansion of this animal’s home. This had helped drastically with the conditions of the place.

Even so, the memory of the red glare of the Capitol’s camera continued to send chills down my spine after I fell asleep.

ENTRY FOUR - DAY TWO

Before my eyes opened the next morning, I immediately knew I'd slept for far too long. I knew sunlight would be streaming in the burrow and it'd be almost noon. I knew I needed to get out and gather food before hunger turned to crippling starvation.

I opened my eyes to pitch black, which completely threw me off. I blinked. Slowly, I stood up, poking around at the ceiling, but feeling nothing but compact dirt and roots.

Roots?

The plants had grown back quickly, creating a thick blanket of green over the entrance while I'd been sleeping. After listening for outside noise, I cut through the vegetation. Just then, I got an idea. I continued cutting until the roots were weak but I left the tops of the plants mostly intact. Then I eased myself out and looked back at my handiwork. If I hadn't known where the entrance was and was passing by, I would have stepped and fallen in.

Perfect.

If all went well, someone would die today, and it wouldn't be me.

I looked around for sticks. Fortunately, it looked like someone nearby had broken off pieces of bamboo and left some on the ground. Those would be useful. I gathered the sticks of bamboo, recalling an ancient trap technique that I was sure would still be extremely effective.

But for that, I needed more supplies. So I turned to the one place I swore to not go back to: the castle.

The mossy stones looked less intimidating without tributes surrounding it and with most of the supplies gone. I tried to keep my gaze off the stone floor and focused on what was left in the Cornucopia.

A few broken weapons and one bag that was so tiny it must have looked useless lay haphazardly in the mouth of the stony spiral. I went straight for the bag and peered inside. I knew the Gamemakers put at least one helpful supply for every tribute in the Games, and since they saw me set up traps for my private session, I figured they'd put what I needed to give them a good show.

I was right. The bag held two thick rubber bands, an extremely small knife, a tube of what looked like strong glue, and binoculars. Yes! Exactly what I wanted.

Back in front of the covered burrow, I separated the bamboo sticks into two piles. With the knife, I sharpened all but the largest one from each pile, and then attached the sharpened sticks to the latter with glue. Nearby, I found a bush of poisonous berries, and stomped the juice of the berries onto the spikes. Then I put the rubber bands around the two spike-filled sticks and found another stick to hold them apart.

The trap done, I cut the vegetation covering the burrow away, put the trap in its place, and placed a light layer of plants on top to disguise the trap.

After that, all I had to do was wait from a distance, binoculars at the ready. Hours passed. I was munching on raspberries behind a bush when I heard a loud slam!

A girl screamed, and I found the sound to be eerily similar to the death cries animals made at home when I brought them to the butcher. Raising the binoculars to my eyes, I saw the female tribute from Three deeply caught in the death trap’s clutches. She’d accidentally dislodged the brace that had held the trap’s jaws apart, and she’d fallen in, the spikes closing in on both sides to pierce her lower torso. The spikes protruded from her back and her stomach. Her dark hair was as red as the blood starting to pour out.

“Dayta!” The male tribute from Three shouted, running to the girl. He unknowingly blocked her from my vision by kneeling in front of her. His voice came out in ragged sobs. I couldn't make out what he was saying, and I kind of didn't want to.

What I wanted was for him to leave so I could take her supplies.

Her cannon went off, and he stayed by her side. Annoyed, I watched as he waited until the helicopter showed up before turning around with noticeably bloodshot eyes and leaving. The body rose into the copter and was gone before I could get at it.

I narrowed my eyes. Thanks a lot.

For the rest of the day, I drove myself to make as many traps as I could. I mostly focused on stick whips with spikes, as that was the fastest trap to make. Simply dabbing the tips with poison made every trap deadly. I ran out of berries on the last few and left them alone, deciding injury was better than nothing.

My memory was photographic and I was sure I could remember where I put each trap on my own, but put a few tiny markings near the deadliest ones so I wouldn't risk any chance of dying by my own hand. These markings were extremely subtle and were carved into trees near the roots. I even risked putting a few in the desert, and hung a swinging trap at the exit of the castle.

By the time I retired for the night in my newly cleaned burrow, night had fallen. I ate edible roots and berries as I watched the Capitol’s nightly slideshow on who died today. Three tributes’ faces flashed. Three tributes closer to victory, if the odds were in my favor. The sky darkened.

Corvin’s voice reverberated in my head. “You can do it, Leona. Win.”

Marshall’s voice asked shyly, “Make sure I see you again, okay?”

I could already sense the plants starting to crawl back over to bury me alive again.

I'll try. I shifted to a comfortable position and rubbed my smooth dragonfly pin. I'll go on the offensive tomorrow.

I closed my eyes and drifted off.

ENTRY FIVE - DAY THREE

When the sun rose, it shone on an empty burrow. I was up and aboveground, and had been for quite a while. Thankfully, I had accustomed to the arena, and the nine years of strict routine I’d gone through had kicked back into place, allowing me to rise very early in the morning without any trace of fatigue. 

By the time the dew-laden grass dried in the crisp morning air, I’d already checked all the traps I’d set up the day before. A few had been set off, but they must have been by waving leaves, as there was no trace of blood on the greenery. I reset the bamboo and continued through the forest.

My body was gradually growing weaker. For three days, I’d survived on berries and herbs alone. Although I ate a wide variety of plants, I couldn’t keep up this diet for much longer. It didn’t provide enough energy, especially as I was always on the move. But there was nothing for me to hunt, clearly shown from the lack of bounty in my traps.

I reflected on my promise to myself the night before. I’ll go on the offensive tomorrow, I’d thought. But was that even a possibility, in my weakened and vulnerable state?

Horns blew, sweeping the arena with a flood of momentary music. I looked up at the blue sky, where two large words were projected. 

Capitol Announcement.

“Congratulations to the surviving tributes. We would like to invite all of you to a feast to commend you for getting this far. Come to the Cornucopia by sunset to receive a bag with your district number etched on the side. Inside the bags will be fresh food from your districts. Do not take this invitation lightly, for you never know when, or if, these opportunities will grace your future again.”

The announcement ended, and I barely paused before racing toward the castle. This was exactly what I needed. There had to be a catch, but figuring it out wasn’t my top priority. Someone could be taking my backpack at this very moment.

I’d traveled in and out twice before, so it only took me a short amount of time to navigate the labyrinth and reach the Cornucopia. Tributes who were already inside were trying to take their backpacks...and were failing. As my backpack slid off the table easily enough, I didn’t care, and ran back outside, strapping the pack to my shoulders. No one pursued me.

Pausing a moment before descending into my burrow, I looked around. Even though I had to be safe, I felt danger lurking close by. A mosquito whizzed by me.

Then a barbed needle jabbed into my arm.

I yelped; I couldn’t help myself. That’s no ordinary mosquito. I slapped at my arm. My blood chilled as the bug refused to crush, instead rapidly skittering down near my legs and attacking once again.

Hissing, I stomped on the mosquito and heard a dull crunch. The bite on my knee flared in pain, but I stomped over and over again and grinded the insect with the heel of my boot until I was sure that if the mosquito had been a tribute in the games, its cannon would have fired a thousand times. I lifted my shoe and found–surprise–the decimated carcass of the mosquito. Its remains shone an unnatural silvery-white.

Smirking at the dead mosquito powder, I turned, made to walk away, and promptly fell. The leg that had been bitten had given way immediately. I carefully rose to my feet, highly favoring my left leg. My left arm stroked my right, feeling the angry bite, but the injured arm felt nothing. I tried to form a fist with my right hand, and watched with wonder as it formed, slowly, as if a magnetic force was pulling my fingers and palm apart. Likewise, I could stand on my left leg, but only if I kept completely still; one degree off balance, and my knee would give in.

Slowly, I lowered myself into the burrow; slowly, I crawled over to a dark corner and eased off the backpack. My left hand unzipped the bag, and the smell of home-cooked food filled the burrow. My tense muscles relaxed, and I devoured warm bread, cheese, milk, and beef without pause. The dried bacon and other preservable meats I left in their containers and moved to my other backpack, the one I grabbed from the Cornucopia the day before. That one was smaller and dark brown, so it would be easier to carry around and stay out of sight.

I took out my tiny knife–any defense was better than nothing–and left the safety of my burrow to make a weapon. Three days in and no clear offense weapon definitely wouldn’t increase my odds. I resolved to gather stones and carve a spear out of wood. 

I headed to the castle and towards the side that was the most crumbly and worn. There, I selected several palm-sized stones with jagged edges, and fit them into my backpack. I limped back into the forest, observing the pink and orange sunset increasingly disappearing under the treetops as I made my way further in. 

A clearing emerged ahead, where I found a fallen tree. I hacked some of its thin limbs off and trimmed the limbs until they were bare. They, too, went in my backpack, though the tips stuck out. All of this I did as quickly as possible.

At the end, I was worn out. What normally would seem easy work was multiplied in difficulty by a hundred by my new handicaps. As I headed back in the direction of my burrow, I drew the back of my wrist across my sweaty forehead and knew my face was flushing.

Please, let the paralysis not be permanent.

Despite the grim situation, my mind grabbed that thought and imagined a comical scenario.

I sit on a cushioned rocking chair and tell my grandchildren, “I won the 73rd Hunger Games.” As they gape in awe, I point at my still-paralyzed limbs and take the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to say, “It cost an arm and a leg to win.” 

I smiled slightly. As golden as that would be, I’d still rather fully regain control of my body. Besides, I didn’t know if I even wanted children, let alone grandchildren.

Suddenly, I was reminded of the fact that I might not be able to have children even if I wanted to by the tip of a sharp silver knife inches away from my nose.

I froze.

“Oh,” Troy said, lowering his weapon. “I thought it was someone else.”

He’s not killing me? Why throw away this opportunity? But I was definitely not complaining. I started to back away.

“Wait,” he protested. “Stay, please. I won't…” He threw his knife behind him, and it cut through a bush of berries and speared one on the base of a tree. Berry juice dripped down the bark.

“That was my only weapon,” said Troy, and raised his hands where I could see them. “I just want to have my last meal with someone before I…” A shadow crossed his face and I recognized his expression. The haunted, helpless look in his eyes. All too familiar.

My parents had that look before they were dragged away by Peacekeepers to their demise.

Their eyes bored into me then, and his bored into me now. I sat down where he showed me to take a seat, knowing he wouldn't live past today. I gripped the knife in my hand. One way or another.

Food was laid out in front of us. He sat across from me. Noting my distrustful look, he ate a little from all the dishes first, and only then did I start eating.

“Every day,” Troy said quietly, briefly putting down a lamb chop. “I ate with Dayta every meal of every day in the Games. She was my sister, you know.”

I didn't know. He didn't know I was the one who killed her, though, in my indirect yet effective way.

“So,” he continued, oblivious to my short pause, “I hope you don't think too weirdly of me. I got too lonely, and I know you're not one of those bloodthirsty tributes. If you were, I would've killed you immediately back there. Since you're not, I'll let you leave alive and full. People like you have a conscience.”

I grew increasingly uncomfortable, but didn't speak. If I told him I was the one responsible for Dayta’s death, he’d surely lunge at me and choke me until my cannon rang. I took several subtle deep breaths until the guilt settled into a dull ache.

We were silent for the rest of the meal.

Several minutes later, I wiped my fingers on my jeans, full. I was glad I ended my meal with the bite-sized biscuits. They were crunchy and chewy, with faint notes of berries. The berries must have been a kind only found in District Three, because I’d never tasted them before. Or maybe not. There was a berry bush behind Troy, and it looked like someone picked a lot off them. Maybe he’d added them to the meal.Wow, that’s nice of-

With a growing sense of horror, I looked at Troy, who was finishing his food calmly. 

No.

He looked up, sensing my stare. He tilted his head questioningly. “What’s the matter, Leona?” He asked, a knowing smile starting to form. “Did you like the berries I added?”

No. No. You couldn’t have...

I wasn’t glad I ate the biscuit anymore. I recognized the berry bush behind him.

“Only a drop is enough to kill,” the trainer had told us. “The death will be slow and excruciatingly painful.”

Troy started to laugh. Each breath he drew sent a dagger tearing through my insides. He eventually calmed down enough to jeer, “What’s wrong, Leona?” Bitter tears fell from his eyes, but he paid them no mind.

“You poisoned me.” The words, too pointed to be a question, fell from my lips and hung in the air, shattering with another peal of his laughter. I took a deep breath and stood up. “Why?” I dared to ask. “Why didn’t you just stab me earlier?”

“It’s what you get for killing my sister.”

My jaw dropped, and I fell silent. How...how does he...

His grin widened and his eyes danced with apathetic amusement. “You did, didn’t you? You killed Dayta. Don’t worry, with your slow, painful death, I’ll consider the debt paid in full.”

I turned and ambled out of there as fast as I could. Troy made no move to follow me or retrieve his weapon.

He just sat and laughed.

His laughter faded as I went deeper into the forest. The sky was starting to darken. It was getting increasingly difficult to see.

Once you've been poisoned with this berry, you have ten minutes to find the antidote. After that window has closed, you are doomed.

I'd likely been eating for almost ten minutes, and who knows how long I'd been limping.Where’s the plant?! I don't have time!

I tumbled over a root and fell down a small ditch, where I lay almost motionless. I started to shake; that wasn't a good sign. My stomach started to churn.

Maybe...maybe I should just…

A low-hanging tree branch gently caressed my face. I blinked and grabbed ahold of one of its leaves, recognizing the scent and shape. Quickly, I stripped the branch of several leaves and started to chew them, swallowing the juices. I ate as many as I could.

Finally, my stomach settled. Not wanting to take any more chances, I continued to chew more leaves and swallowed the last of them as I made my way back to my burrow.

I made it.

Once inside, I collapsed. I would get up early and make my weapons tomorrow.

Everything dimmed to black.

Entry Seven - Day Four

When the sun rose, it shone on an empty burrow. I was up and aboveground, and had been for quite a while. Thankfully, I had accustomed to the arena, and the nine years of strict routine I’d gone through had kicked back into place, allowing me to rise very early in the morning without any trace of fatigue. 

By the time the dew-laden grass dried in the crisp morning air, I’d already checked all the traps I’d set up the day before. A few had been set off, but they must have been by waving leaves, as there was no trace of blood on the greenery. I reset the bamboo and continued through the forest.

My body was gradually growing weaker. For three days, I’d survived on berries and herbs alone. Although I ate a wide variety of plants, I couldn’t keep up this diet for much longer. It didn’t provide enough energy, especially as I was always on the move. But there was nothing for me to hunt, clearly shown from the lack of bounty in my traps.

I reflected on my promise to myself the night before. I’ll go on the offensive tomorrow, I’d thought. But was that even a possibility, in my weakened and vulnerable state?

Horns blew, sweeping the arena with a flood of momentary music. I looked up at the blue sky, where two large words were projected. 

Capitol Announcement.

“Congratulations to the surviving tributes. We would like to invite all of you to a feast to commend you for getting this far. Come to the Cornucopia by sunset to receive a bag with your district number etched on the side. Inside the bags will be fresh food from your districts. Do not take this invitation lightly, for you never know when, or if, these opportunities will grace your future again.”

The announcement ended, and I barely paused before racing toward the castle. This was exactly what I needed. There had to be a catch, but figuring it out wasn’t my top priority. Someone could be taking my backpack at this very moment.

I’d traveled in and out twice before, so it only took me a short amount of time to navigate the labyrinth and reach the Cornucopia. Tributes who were already inside were trying to take their backpacks...and were failing. As my backpack slid off the table easily enough, I didn’t care, and ran back outside, strapping the pack to my shoulders. No one pursued me.

Pausing a moment before descending into my burrow, I looked around. Even though I had to be safe, I felt danger lurking close by. A mosquito whizzed by me.

Then a barbed needle jabbed into my arm.

I yelped; I couldn’t help myself. That’s no ordinary mosquito. I slapped at my arm. My blood chilled as the bug refused to crush, instead rapidly skittering down near my legs and attacking once again.

Hissing, I stomped on the mosquito and heard a dull crunch. The bite on my knee flared in pain, but I stomped over and over again and grinded the insect with the heel of my boot until I was sure that if the mosquito had been a tribute in the games, its cannon would have fired a thousand times. I lifted my shoe and found–surprise–the decimated carcass of the mosquito. Its remains shone an unnatural silvery-white.

Smirking at the dead mosquito powder, I turned, made to walk away, and promptly fell. The leg that had been bitten had given way immediately. I carefully rose to my feet, highly favoring my left leg. My left arm stroked my right, feeling the angry bite, but the injured arm felt nothing. I tried to form a fist with my right hand, and watched with wonder as it formed, slowly, as if a magnetic force was pulling my fingers and palm apart. Likewise, I could stand on my left leg, but only if I kept completely still; one degree off balance, and my knee would give in.

Slowly, I lowered myself into the burrow; slowly, I crawled over to a dark corner and eased off the backpack. My left hand unzipped the bag, and the smell of home-cooked food filled the burrow. My tense muscles relaxed, and I devoured warm bread, cheese, milk, and beef without pause. The dried bacon and other preservable meats I left in their containers and moved to my other backpack, the one I grabbed from the Cornucopia the day before. That one was smaller and dark brown, so it would be easier to carry around and stay out of sight.

I took out my tiny knife–any defense was better than nothing–and left the safety of my burrow to make a weapon. Three days in and no clear offense weapon definitely wouldn’t increase my odds. I resolved to gather stones and carve a spear out of wood. 

I headed to the castle and towards the side that was the most crumbly and worn. There, I selected several palm-sized stones with jagged edges, and fit them into my backpack. I limped back into the forest, observing the pink and orange sunset increasingly disappearing under the treetops as I made my way further in. 

A clearing emerged ahead, where I found a fallen tree. I hacked some of its thin limbs off and trimmed the limbs until they were bare. They, too, went in my backpack, though the tips stuck out. All of this I did as quickly as possible.

At the end, I was worn out. What normally would seem easy work was multiplied in difficulty by a hundred by my new handicaps. As I headed back in the direction of my burrow, I drew the back of my wrist across my sweaty forehead and knew my face was flushing.

Please, let the paralysis not be permanent.

Despite the grim situation, my mind grabbed that thought and imagined a comical scenario.

I sit on a cushioned rocking chair and tell my grandchildren, “I won the 73rd Hunger Games.” As they gape in awe, I point at my still-paralyzed limbs and take the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to say, “It cost an arm and a leg to win.” 

I smiled slightly. As golden as that would be, I’d still rather fully regain control of my body. Besides, I didn’t know if I even wanted children, let alone grandchildren.

Suddenly, I was reminded of the fact that I might not be able to have children even if I wanted to by the tip of a sharp silver knife inches away from my nose.

I froze.

“Oh,” Troy said, lowering his weapon. “I thought it was someone else.”

He’s not killing me? Why throw away this opportunity? But I was definitely not complaining. I started to back away.

“Wait,” he protested. “Stay, please. I won't…” He threw his knife behind him, and it cut through a bush of berries and speared one on the base of a tree. Berry juice dripped down the bark.

“That was my only weapon,” said Troy, and raised his hands where I could see them. “I just want to have my last meal with someone before I…” A shadow crossed his face and I recognized his expression. The haunted, helpless look in his eyes. All too familiar.

My parents had that look before they were dragged away by Peacekeepers to their demise.

Their eyes bored into me then, and his bored into me now. I sat down where he showed me to take a seat, knowing he wouldn't live past today. I gripped the knife in my hand. One way or another.

Food was laid out in front of us. He sat across from me. Noting my distrustful look, he ate a little from all the dishes first, and only then did I start eating.

“Every day,” Troy said quietly, briefly putting down a lamb chop. “I ate with Dayta every meal of every day in the Games. She was my sister, you know.”

I didn't know. He didn't know I was the one who killed her, though, in my indirect yet effective way.

“So,” he continued, oblivious to my short pause, “I hope you don't think too weirdly of me. I got too lonely, and I know you're not one of those bloodthirsty tributes. If you were, I would've killed you immediately back there. Since you're not, I'll let you leave alive and full. People like you have a conscience.”

I grew increasingly uncomfortable, but didn't speak. If I told him I was the one responsible for Dayta’s death, he’d surely lunge at me and choke me until my cannon rang. I took several subtle deep breaths until the guilt settled into a dull ache.

We were silent for the rest of the meal.

Several minutes later, I wiped my fingers on my jeans, full. I was glad I ended my meal with the bite-sized biscuits. They were crunchy and chewy, with faint notes of berries. The berries must have been a kind only found in District Three, because I’d never tasted them before. Or maybe not. There was a berry bush behind Troy, and it looked like someone picked a lot off them. Maybe he’d added them to the meal.Wow, that’s nice of-

With a growing sense of horror, I looked at Troy, who was finishing his food calmly. 

No.

He looked up, sensing my stare. He tilted his head questioningly. “What’s the matter, Leona?” He asked, a knowing smile starting to form. “Did you like the berries I added?”

No. No. You couldn’t have...

I wasn’t glad I ate the biscuit anymore. I recognized the berry bush behind him.

“Only a drop is enough to kill,” the trainer had told us. “The death will be slow and excruciatingly painful.”

Troy started to laugh. Each breath he drew sent a dagger tearing through my insides. He eventually calmed down enough to jeer, “What’s wrong, Leona?” Bitter tears fell from his eyes, but he paid them no mind.

“You poisoned me.” The words, too pointed to be a question, fell from my lips and hung in the air, shattering with another peal of his laughter. I took a deep breath and stood up. “Why?” I dared to ask. “Why didn’t you just stab me earlier?”

“It’s what you get for killing my sister.”

My jaw dropped, and I fell silent. How...how does he...

His grin widened and his eyes danced with apathetic amusement. “You did, didn’t you? You killed Dayta. Don’t worry, with your slow, painful death, I’ll consider the debt paid in full.”

I turned and ambled out of there as fast as I could. Troy made no move to follow me or retrieve his weapon.

He just sat and laughed.

His laughter faded as I went deeper into the forest. The sky was starting to darken. It was getting increasingly difficult to see.

Once you've been poisoned with this berry, you have ten minutes to find the antidote. After that window has closed, you are doomed.

I'd likely been eating for almost ten minutes, and who knows how long I'd been limping.Where’s the plant?! I don't have time!

I tumbled over a root and fell down a small ditch, where I lay almost motionless. I started to shake; that wasn't a good sign. My stomach started to churn.

Maybe...maybe I should just…

A low-hanging tree branch gently caressed my face. I blinked and grabbed ahold of one of its leaves, recognizing the scent and shape. Quickly, I stripped the branch of several leaves and started to chew them, swallowing the juices. I ate as many as I could.

Finally, my stomach settled. Not wanting to take any more chances, I continued to chew more leaves and swallowed the last of them as I made my way back to my burrow.

I made it.

Once inside, I collapsed. I would get up early and make my weapons tomorrow.

Everything dimmed to black.