It is still dark out when Mazie Forst (D9) applies the Healing Balm and Sterile Gauze from her pack to the wound she sustained on her thigh during Day Two. As soon as the balm touches her skin, relief washes over her and she lets out a soft sigh. Lexa Woods (D7) lies next to her, sleeping as peacefully as one can under such circumstances. As Mazie waits for her ally to wake up, she thinks of her sisters. By this point in their games, Ambrosia, Anise, and Olive had all perished. For the first time, Mazie allows herself to feel hope. I’ve outlived all of my sisters. Perhaps I can actually win this thing. She thinks of her boyfriend, Barley, and the life they could lead together if she can just manage to hang on. Lexa stirs beside her and she sadly looks down, knowing what her own victory would mean for the girl who has come to mean so much to her. Not wanting to think of such things anymore, Mazie tries to think of nothing as she sits back, each hand gripping a knife in case of an attack. 

 

As the sun rises slowly over the horizon, Lexa opens one eye, followed by the other, and for one blissful moment she nearly forgets where she is. It’s not until she sees Mazie, holding her knives, that she remembers the direness of her situation. 

 

“Good morning,” Lexa reaches her arms up and stretches before feeling around for her stone axe. 

 

“Good morning,” Mazie passes her canteen of water to Lexa and she takes a few sips before handing it back. The duo share the last of their assorted nuts and seeds and begin laying their agenda for the rest of the day. 

 

“There’s not really any good places to see the rest of the arena from here,” Mazie notes, trying to see over the tall blades of grass and looking for a hill to get a good vantage point of the whole arena. There seem to be none. “Can I try getting on your shoulders? Maybe I could see where some other tributes are, if they’re around.” 

 

Lexa, who has yet to be injured, nods, knowing that if she were to try getting on Mazie’s shoulders, the other girl’s thigh would likely not be able to take the weight. She crouches a bit, allowing Mazie to climb on her back to try and see through the blades.

 

“Anything?” 

 

“I think there might be a group over by the Ant Hill? But I’m not sure. And maybe someone by the Cornucopia.” Mazie strains her eyes trying to see further, but can’t. She comes down from Lexa’s shoulders and they put their heads together, coming up with a plan of action. 

 

“Hopefully those two groups fight each other instead of us so there are less teams to deal with,” Mazie says, and Lexa nods. “I just hope the careers are the ones in the Ant Hill, I think everyone would be grateful to see their numbers decreasing.” 

_______________________________________

 

I bet the Capitol finds this really boring, Hazel Rosewood (D5) thinks to herself. She, Lea Spark (D7), and Violet Jane (D12) sit together by the entrance inside of the Ant Hill. At least those stupid gamemakers haven’t done anything to smoke us out yet.

 

After a rather restful night for all three girls, they woke and shared food and water. It’s awfully dark inside of the Ant Hill so they haven’t ventured further in, choosing to stay where the light from outside can trickle in and give them a bit of visibility. They all know it’s incredibly easy to get lost in the dark. 

 

“We can’t sit here forever,” Hazel finally says. “The gamemakers are bound to do something drastic to make us move, otherwise we’re sitting ducks and easy pickings for other tributes.”

 

Violet and Lea nod in agreement. As nice as it is to stop and relax after two days of nearly non-stop movement, they know that it’s dangerous to do so in the arena. 

 

“We should explore!” Violet suggests.

 

“I agree,” Lea says, “But we can’t just go walking into these tunnels. We’ll never be able to get back out again.” 

​

The trio put their heads together, talking through different ways to track their progress through the Ant Hill.

 

“A flashlight would be nice down here,” Lea laments. Violet and Hazel both laugh, but Lea is only half joking. She’s still having trouble fathoming how she’s in the arena, how she and other children are fighting for their very lives. It’s sick, she thinks. Luckily, her calf has healed nicely and her allies are in good health and decent spirits. The three girls ruminate for a few moments longer, until Lea comes up with an idea. 

 

“We can use our weapons to leave marks on the walls,” she suggests, demonstrating by using one of her knives to carve a long line in the wall nearest them. “It’s foolproof; if our eyes adjust to the darkness, we’ll be able to see the markings, at least a little, and even if our eyes don’t adjust we can just run our hands along the walls to feel for the marks.” 

 

“That’s really clever, Lea!” Violet gushes. The younger girl looks up to her older allies, and likewise, the older girls are coming to think of Violet as a younger sister. 

 

“Clever,” Hazel nods her assent, “but nothing is foolproof in the games.”

_______________________________________

 

Neon Wintermute (D3) lies with his back against a rock, staring at the photo in Korey Sherman’s (D10, deceased) locket. He can’t help but note the ways in which Korey’s mother resembles her daughter. The same nose, the same lips, the same eyebrows. They’ll all pay, Neon vows. I’ll win this. I’ll go home and I’ll give everything that’s supposed to go to my shitty family to hers. And then I’ll make them pay.

 

Neon thumbs the locket and then slips it back in his pocket. He notices a large daisy sprouting in the Grass nearby; it’s new and not quite gigantic yet. He walks the short way up and out of the Stream Bed, plucking four petals off of the daisy and taking them back with him. 

 

“For you,” Neon places the petals down on the spot where Korey’s body laid for the last time. He can feel the tears welling in his eyes but forces them away. What was it that Darin always told him? No fear. No mercy. Neon lies down and lets his eyes rest, visions of Korey and Darin dancing behind his eyelids.

 

Meanwhile, Cassia Aster (D11) and Chantria Pomole (D11) keep watch over the camp. Twyla Rayon (D8) and Leoni Veneden (D3) sleep nearby, having taken their shift overnight. 

 

“You can talk to me, you know?” Chantria tries to coax Cassia out of her nearly-catatonic state. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but you can tell me if you want.”

 

Cassia looks ahead, her eyes blank and her lips slightly parted. An hour passes in silence, and then another, and the end of their shift is coming to an end when Cassia finally looks over, staring directly into Chantria’s eyes. Chantria is startled by her ally’s sudden and unwavering attention. 

 

“I can’t get the voices out of my head,” Cassia says, her voice nearly deadpan. “They started when you killed Noira Versailles (D2) and they haven’t left. I’m so anxious all the time now, I feel sick. I know that’s not unique, that we all feel like that, but the voice. It won’t leave me alone. I can barely sleep.”

 

Chantria thinks about what she has just heard before responding. “We all have voices in our head, Cassia. It’s called a conscience. There’s nothing natural about being here - about being forced to kill other people. Other kids! I’d be more worried if you weren’t feeling that way.” Chantria thinks she’s got it all figured out, and Cassia gives her district partner a small smile and averts her eyes.

 

But does the voice in her head urge her to kill? To slaughter her own allies, her friends, as they sleep? No, it’s no conscience at all. Cassia shuts her eyes, trying to get the voice out.

 

Neon wakes to a parachute sitting beside him. He silently thanks his mentor and opens the parcel to find a bottle of water, which he immediately drains. Feeling quenched, Neon rejoins his allies. Leoni and Twyla have woken up and the four girls are enjoying some breakfast. Leoni and Twyla had bonded the previous night over the hardships faced by their families, what with Leoni’s father being laid off and her family struggling on a single income and Twyla’s father’s death forcing her into the workforce. The District Three and District Eight girl whisper to one another, eyeing Cassia warily. She still does not look right.

 

“How’s your shoulder, Twyla?” Neon asks, sitting down next to the younger girl. 

 

Twyla looks happily at her wound, which she treated and dressed during the night using supplies in her pack. It is now healing rather well. “It’s coming along quite nicely! Of course, I’d prefer to have not gotten stabbed, but all things considered, I’m in top condition.” 

 

Neon smiles. Although he’d been closest with Korey, all of these girls have become something like sisters to him. There are some circumstances under which you just can’t help but bond with others. Being in a deathmatch is definitely one, he thinks.

 

Leoni fidgets with a length of barbed wire. She’s been nearly restless since learning of the circumstances of Lorcan Amino’s (D5, deceased) death. Even though it was Cassia who delivered the killing blow, Leoni can’t help but feel responsible for the death, since Lorcan was caught in her trap. The guilt has been gnawing at her relentlessly and she can’t help but wish she were home, in District Three, and far away from this nightmare.

 

“So what’s the plan?” Neon asks.

 

“I think we should lie low today. Twyla’s still healing and I think we could all use a bit of downtime,” Chantria says. Of course, she knows there’s no such thing as “downtime” in the arena.

 

“Any objectors?” Neon asks. No one raises their hand or speaks up, and so, the group remains planted in the Stream Bed.

_______________________________________

 

Ayla Yangue (D4) manages to get a few hours of sleep, although her dreams are far from pleasant. Images of Dahlia Cowell (D10, deceased), Ezekiel Fruges (D9, deceased), and Lorcan chase one another through her mind all night - dead eyes, blood, and the sound of cannons. She wakes to find her allies eating and drinking, looking somber. 

 

Asena Glory (D6) is lost in thought. Why us? Why Children? Why is the Capitol being so cruel, sending the youth of every district into their deaths? To send a message? Everyone already fears the Capitol! Anyone who has lost someone in these monstrous games is very well aware of the message. So why make us repeat this every year? She would never say these things aloud, for fear of retribution from the Capitol and gamemakers, but the thoughts are still there.

 

Livianna Kart (D6) feels desperate. Lorcan’s death weighs heavily on her mind, as does her newly-acquired injury. Now that she’s hurt, and Ayla is slowly recovering, most of the burdens of the alliance will fall onto Asena’s shoulders. Asena knows this, too, and being the eldest of the three girls, a sense of responsibility drives her. She’s also still recovering - the bruise on her head has mostly faded, now an ugly yellow-ish hue, but the debilitating headaches remain, albeit they are few and far between now. Despite this, Asena makes a vow to herself that she will do whatever it takes to protect her allies. 

 

Early in the morning, a parachute arrives for Livi. With the Sterile Gauze inside, and the Healing Balm from her pack, she is able to dress the gaping wound in her left side. It is still painful to move, but Livi hopes she will have the day to recover. Not long after, another parachute descends, this one for Asena. Her mentor has sent her an electrolyte drink, which she happily takes a gulp of. 

 

“I don’t think staying here is a good idea,” Asena says. They’re too exposed - being so close to the Ant Hill and the Grass makes them vulnerable from all angles. 

 

“I agree,” Ayla concurs. She gets to her feet and begins packing her things into her bag. “I don’t like the idea of other tributes being able to see us but us not being able to see them.” 

 

“Where can we go?” Asena wonders aloud. She doesn’t want to go back to the Stream Bed so soon, knowing that the Outliers are likely still around. And the Ant Hill… well, the Ant Hill just seems like a bad time all around. 

 

“The Tree?” Livi suggests. She tries to stand, but struggles as her side is still in immense pain. Asena puts out her arm for her district partner to grab onto. Grateful, Livi is able to get to her feet. 

 

“Do we think anyone is there right now?” Ayla says, worried about running into another fight. As much as she wants to believe otherwise, she knows that her alliance cannot afford to get into another skirmish. None of them are in the best condition. 

 

“There’s an alliance in the Ant Hill, I heard them go in last night,” Asena says. “And I think there might be a group in the Grass somewhere northeast of us, but I can’t be sure. If we’re going to cross the arena, we need to be very careful about it.” 

 

Livi tilts her head to the side as she thinks. They need a plan, and a good one, if they’re to avoid confrontation. “How about we go around?”

 

“Around? As in, around the entire arena?” Ayla says, half amused and half concerned at the idea. Who knew how far the arena went on for? They might end up lost in the Grass forever. 

 

“It’s our only option. We can’t go any other way without running into someone. I know it’s risky but we have to at least try,” Livi says. Asena thinks it over for a moment before nodding, in firm agreement.

 

 Ayla continues shoving weapons and supplies into her pack. “You’re right. Let’s get moving.”

_______________________________________

 

Molt Scarlet Nafs (D2) munches happily on a bit of honeysuckle. She’d spent most of the night searching around the Cornucopia for natural food and water sources, fueled by the need to prove herself. To the gamemakers, to her parents, the sponsors, and even to herself. She may not be classically trained with weapons in the way Emma Adler (D1) and Opal Van Rusch (D1) are, and she may lack the discipline of others from her district, but she’s capable. She knows this, deep in her heart, she just needs to make sure everyone else knows it as well. Although she wasn’t able to find water, her efforts paid off and the sweet sap from the giant flower satiates her hunger.

 

Opal and Emma argue quietly nearby. There’s some disagreement among the Fearless Fighters about how to spend the day.

 

“It’s not a good idea, Opal,” Emma insists. She wants some action just as much as either of her allies, but she knows they have to be realistic. Having lost Noira so soon, their numbers are not as good as some of the other alliances. “We’re all good fighters, but there’s other people in this arena who are good, too. And most of the other alliances have got the same number of tributes, or more, than we do. It’s not smart.”

 

“All of you Academy-trained kids are the same!” Opal cries, frustrated. She wants to go off on her own, wants to hunt down the others and see them bleed on the end of her weapon. It’s been nearly three days and she hasn’t killed anyone. “‘It’s not smart,’ who cares! These games are going to go on for weeks if we don’t go out there and do something. God knows the other tributes aren’t going to be hunting each other down.” 

 

“Being trained in the Academy has nothing to do with this! Being rational isn’t a crime, Opal,” Emma sighs, exasperated. “Nafs wasn’t trained in an Academy and I’ll bet she agrees with me.” The District One girls look at their ally expectantly.

 

“It’s true, I wasn’t trained like you two. And I agree with Emma,” Nafs says, prompting Opal to grunt and roll her eyes rather unflatteringly. “We’ll see how today goes and hunt tomorrow. Fair?” 

 

Emma and Opal look at Nafs, and then at one another. They both nod in compromise and shake hands diplomatically. 

 

“Tomorrow, then,” Opal says, sitting down beside the Cornucopia and continuing to sharpen her scythe and spear. “I’ll hold you two to that.”

_______________________________________

 

Mazie and Lexa decide to move. The Grass is good - it provides cover and is easy enough to navigate through once you’ve gotten your bearings, but they’re a bit too close to the Ant Hill for either of their liking. They decide to pack their things and move closer to the Tree. The walk there takes them hours, but they fill the time with conversation. 

 

“So Mazie, what’s your token?” Lexa asks, eyeing the necklace around the other girl’s neck. Mazie looks down as well, pulling the chain from beneath her shirt and revealing a locket. 

 

“Actually, my mentor gave it to me. They said it had a ‘special meaning,’ but I quite don’t know what that meaning is yet.” Mazie explains, and she tries to remember what exactly her mentor had said to her. “Oh! They told me to open it at a time of ‘desperate need’ and it will give me a final boost to get to the finish line.”

 

“Woah, that’s really cool, Mazie!” Lexa squeals, excited at the mystery of it all. 

 

Mazie stops walking for a moment and thinks before she says, “Hey Lexa, if something happens to me today or tomorrow… or whenever... ”

 

“Don’t say that Mazie.”

 

“I know, but still,” Mazie continues. “If it’s safe, before my body is collected, can you please take this necklace and wear it with pride? Then when the going gets tough, you can open it and see if it gives you strength.”

 

“Of course I can do that,” Lexa replies. “But can you do something for me, too?”

 

“What?” Mazie asks curiously.

 

“Don’t die. How about neither of us die, until the end, and we can use the locket and the strength together?”

 

Mazie laughs, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She wipes them away with the back of her hand and the girls continue walking until they’re about forty or so meters from the Tree. Still concealed in the Grass, they come up with an escape plan before setting up camp; the duo are about the same height, so they use Mazie’s stone knives to make notches in ten blades of grass at eye level, demarcating an escape path. At the end of the path, Lexa sets up a couple of tripwires and traps. She keeps a hand on her stone axe at all times, prepared to protect herself and Mazie in the event of attack. Luckily, no such attack occurs.

_______________________________________

 

The Moonlight Alliance walks carefully through the dark tunnels of the Ant Hill. As planned, they mark the walls using their weapons every couple of paces. Violet leads the group, making sure she doesn’t get too far ahead so as not to lose her allies, followed closely by Hazel, and Lea comes up the rear, marking the walls with one of her knives. 

 

“This really is an adventure!” Violet exclaims, skipping ahead. Her voice ricochets off the walls. “It reminds me of home, almost. The mines are like this a little bit.” 

 

“You’ve been in the mines before?” Hazel asks, surprised at the idea of a child being so far under the ground in such dangerous conditions. 

 

“Only once. The school takes a field trip down there every few years, and I got to go the year before last. It was scary,” Violet stops walking for a moment and turns to face her allies. “But it’s not scary down here!”

 

The girls continue walking, trudging on for a couple of hours and only having to turn around once because of a dead end. They’re thinking about turning around and heading back toward camp when something small hits Lea in the head. She startles and looks up. A fine layer of dust covers her face, and she reaches up to feel sediment on her head as well.

 

“Guys, something’s wrong,” she says, eyes going wide as she realizes what’s happening. “Run!” Lea turns quickly, running back the way they came and running her hand along the wall, feeling for her markings. A shout and the sound of a cannon firing stop her dead in her tracks. 

 

She can barely see in the dark, but is able to make out the outline of a large mound of dirt and a single head sticking out from it. 

 

“Violet? Hazel?” Lea calls, walking slowly back toward where her allies had been a moment ago. She’s answered by a hacking cough and wheezing.

 

Lea rushes to the dirt pile that has formed where the ceiling and walls have caved in. She can see other tunnels above and on either side of her and reaches around blindly, looking to grasp whichever of her allies is still alive. 

 

“Hazel? Violet? Are you okay?”

 

“Help me!” Hazel cries out, coughing again. “I can’t move.” Lea digs frantically, trying to free Hazel from the dirt. “Violet’s dead. I saw a big chunk of dirt fall right on her head and if that didn’t kill her, I’m afraid she’s already suffocated. She’s in that pile somewhere.” 

 

Lea’s eyes fill with tears immediately as she thinks of the vibrant girl who was so excitedly skipping around just moments ago. She wants to scream, she wants to curse everyone and everything, but she knows she cannot. She must keep digging to get Hazel out.

 

Lea digs and digs until finally Hazel manages to free herself. She stumbles out of the dirt and falls to the ground, crying out in pain. 

 

“My arm and my leg. I think they’re broken,” she sobs, cradling her right arm. “It happened so fast and the dirt was so heavy.” 

 

Hearing Hazel, strong and confident Hazel, cry out in such a way makes Lea want to lay down and sob with her. But she needs to be strong now, for both of them. Taking a deep breath, Lea hoists Hazel up by the armpits, trying not to put pressure on her injured arm or leg. Slowly, she pulls the younger girl back through the tunnels, using her markings as a guide, until she can see the light of the outside shining in.

_______________________________________

 

Neon checks once again to make sure that Korey’s locket is still safely tucked away in his pocket. He sighs with relief when his thumb rubs up against the cool metal. 

 

Leoni has been busy all morning, rigging traps around camp with a fully-armed Twyla guarding her. Leoni has a pit in her stomach all the while, anxious at the prospect of another person dying because of her traps, but she sucks it up and continues with her work. The idea of one of her allies dying at the hands of an intruder is much worse than that of an enemy falling into her trap. 

 

“I think they’re done,” Leoni says to Twyla, wiping her hands on her pants. “Cassia and Chantria are digging for water if you want to go help them? Neon and I should be okay to keep watch for a bit.” Twyla goes off to find the District Eleven girls, and Leoni approaches her district partner. 

 

“How are you holding up?” she asks. 

 

“The Capitol better be paying for therapy for whoever wins this thing,” Neon replies. He’s only half joking. 

 

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Leoni laughs, holding her arm out to Neon. He takes it and hoists himself up, picking up his sword in his other hand. 

 

Neon and Leoni roam around the camp, fully armed and keeping an eye out for any muttations or other tributes while Twyla, Chantria, and Cassia dig in the Stream Bed. Like Ayla, they manage to dig deep enough to find water. Twyla stands and walks to where the alliance’s packs are gathered, pulling out everyone’s water bottles and canteens. She returns to Cassia and Chantria and the three girls begin filling them with water, chatting happily amongst themselves all the while. 

 

No one seems to notice the two weeds creeping out from between a cluster of stones. They’re tall, taller than the blades of grass, even, and thick. The weeds snake between Leoni and Neon and before either of them can react, one is wrapped around Leoni’s wrist. She hears a crack and feels a sharp pain shooting up her arm, but she’s quick, using her barbed wire to slice through the weed, which retreats back into the stones.

 

“Neon, watch out!” Leoni screams, turning to her district partner to see the weed wrapped around his waist, holding him in midair. He flails around, having dropped his sword in shock when he was lifted off the ground, and he looks blue in the face. It’s choking him. Leoni rushes forward but has to jump out of the way when the weed brings Neon’s body down, throwing him violently into the rocks of the Stream Bed. Once, twice, three times. A cannon sounds and Leoni screams, falling to her knees. She vomits at the sight of Neon.

 

By now, Cassia, Twyla, and Chantria have gathered next to Leoni and they, too, are shocked at the sudden and vicious death. The weed, seemingly haven done its job, retreats as well, leaving only Neon’s broken and bloody body in its wake. Cassia stares at the body and then at Leoni, who is still screaming. Cassia begins to scream as well, although unlike Leoni, she is not crying. 

 

The chain of Korey’s locket hangs out of Neon’s pocket and falls to the ground when his body is picked up by the hovercraft. 

_______________________________________

 

Ayla’s knuckles have turned white from gripping her trident so hard. She’s been using it for support as her group walks around the perimeter of the arena, but also savors the feeling of security the weapon provides. Although she never enjoyed fishing at home, the trident has become a source of comfort for her. With Pip Amity (D4, deceased) gone, it is the only thing that can remind her of home. 

 

“Tell us about the ocean,” Livi says wistfully.

 

“Well,” Ayla begins, conjuring up images of the salt water and the sand and the seagulls, “it’s emotional. Violent and angry some days, black as pitch. And other days it’s kind and gentle, almost the color of the sky. It’s salty and sweet and it can be smelly sometimes too. But it’s home.” Ayla smiles at the memory. “I’ve had some of my best memories in the ocean. I remember when my brother died, he was only twelve. I spent the entire next day lying in the sea. I couldn’t taste my tears with all the saltwater surrounding me. By the time my father came to get me out I was so pruned up I thought I might never recover.” She laughs at the memory. “It was sad at the time, but now looking back on it I think that was the closest I’ll ever be with my brother.”

 

Asena tears up, memories of her own brother, Race, rushing to the forefront of her mind. Everyone has lost something, but she and Ayla have lost the same thing.

 

“I’d give anything to see my brother, just one more time,” Asena sighs. 

 

“I’d give anything to meet my new sibling,” Livianna commiserates, thinking of her pregnant mother who must be struggling on her own. 

 

The three girls walk in silence the rest of the way to the Tree, knowing that their wishes are only that and that in order for any of them to see their families again, the other two must die.  

_______________________________________

 

Opal sits off by herself, close to the edge of the Cornucopia and next to the Grass. She broods over her allies’ apparent lack of ruthlessness. Aren’t we careers? She thinks to herself. Isn’t this what we do? Take risks? She crosses her arms over her chest. Nafs and Emma sit on the other side of the Cornucopia, discussing the pros and cons of different weapons and their favorite hand-to-hand combat tactics. 

 

After a long day of nothing, the sun is beginning to set when a light breeze begins to blow through the area. The breeze quickly becomes something stronger, spiraling and whipping round and round, until a miniature tornado has formed and comes barreling toward the side of the Cornucopia where Nafs and Emma still sit. Nafs, caught completely off-guard, is not quite fast enough to get up and is caught in the wind. It lifts the girl into the air and tosses her around a bit before throwing her small form into the side of the horn. She hits the metal fixture and her body makes a loud crack as it breaks. A cannon sounds. Emma, a bit faster, manages to escape the tornado itself but one of her knives is caught in the wind. The weapon catches her forearm, drawing blood, but luckily it isn’t thrown aggressively as Nafs had been. Opal, having been on the opposite side of the horn, is unscathed, but watches on with glee as her allies scatter. The sound of Nafs’ bones breaking is like music to her ears and only pushes her bloodlust further.

 

Not yet wanting to break things off, Opal feigns concern when Emma approaches her, bleeding. “Are you okay?” 

 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little blood. What do you think that was all about?” Emma asks.

 

“Probably the gamemakers are bored. We should go hunting!” Opal suggests once again, rubbing her hands together. Emma looks at her quizzically, wondering how hunting is what she’s concerned about, considering Nafs has just died. 

 

“Tomorrow, remember?” Emma says. Opal huffs and rolls her eyes, but knows she must play her hand carefully to avoid being killed in her sleep. 

 

“Of course, tomorrow.”

_______________________________________

 

As night falls, Mazie drifts off into sleep. Lexa sits beside her, using blades of grass she’d collected earlier to weave herself a blanket. The busywork reminds her of home, of the wood carvings she would make back home in the mornings. She longs for home, but knows what winning would cost. 

_______________________________________

 

Lea and Hazel have made it out of the Ant Hill and sit in the Grass just outside. After hours of trying, Hazel was finally able to fall asleep. Her broken bones made getting comfortable difficult, but now that she’s finally asleep, Lea is afraid to move for fear of waking her. Lea sobs quietly into her hands, the reality of the games truly setting in. Violet, small and kind, snuffed out in an instant. The loss of the younger girl’s life has affected Lea in ways she never knew were possible, and she momentarily pictures what may have happened if she hadn’t volunteered and her sister had been in her shoes. The thought of her sister only makes Lea cry harder.

_______________________________________

 

Back in the Grass, the Outliers have anything but a quiet night. Cassia has, thankfully, stopped screaming, but has begun talking to herself. None of her allies are sure what she’s saying, but they can make out words like kill and blood. It’s rather concerning. Leoni’s broken wrist has stopped her fidgeting with her barbed wire, but she’s only become more restless since seeing her district partner die in such a gruesome manner. She has opted to, instead, twirl one of Twyla’s sewing needles in her good hand. If she isn’t distracted, she is afraid she too may go mad. 

 

Chantria, after spending much time trying to console Cassia, has all but given up. She and Twyla sit together, discussing the watch shifts they will take overnight, knowing that neither Leoni nor Cassia is in any shape to be guarding anything.

_______________________________________

 

After hours of walking, the Birds of Prey finally make it to the Tree. They set up camp behind the trunk of the Tree and then all collapse, exhausted. 

 

“Who wants to keep the first watch tonight?” Livianna asks. Her side is burning and, though it’s stopped bleeding, she’s afraid that it may start again if she has to stay upright any longer.

 

“I can,” Ayla volunteers. Thinking of home has given her a second wind. She’s determined, not just to make it home, but to protect her allies for as long as she can, in a way she could not protect her brother. 

_______________________________________

 

Emma has gone to sleep. Opal looks at her district partner and contemplates killing her while she is vulnerable, but deep down she knows that would be dumb. Emma is at least partially right; the other alliances are much larger than they are, especially now that Nafs has died. To kill Emma would put Opal at a serious numbers disadvantage.

 

Maybe another day, Opal thinks. 

_______________________________________
 

 

END OF DAY THREE STANDINGS

 

Emma Adler (D1): alive, mild injury (cut by a knife on the left forearm)

Opal Van Rusch (D1): alive

 

Molt Scarlet Nafs (D2): deceased, 14th place

 

Neon Wintermute (D3): deceased, 15th place

Leoni Veneden (D3): alive, mild injury (broken left wrist)

 

Ayla Yangue (D4): alive

 

Hazel Rosewood (D5): alive, severe injury (right arm, left leg, and right wrist broken) 

 

Asena Glory (D6): alive

Livianna Kart (D6): alive

 

Lexa Woods (D7): alive

Lea Spark (D7): alive

 

Twyla Rayon (D8): alive

Mazie Forst (D9): alive

Cassia Aster (D11): alive
Chantria Pomole (D11): alive

Violet Jane (D12): deceased, 16th place 

_______________________________________

 

 

ALLIANCES: END OF DAY THREE

​

Fearless Fighters

• Emma Adler (D1)

• Opal Van Rusch (D1)

 

Birds of Prey

• Ayla Yangue (D4)

• Asena Glory (D6)

• Livianna Kart (D6)

 

Moonlight Alliance

• Hazel Rosewood (D5)

• Lea Spark (D7)

 

The Outliers

• Leoni Veneden (D3)

• Twyla Rayon (D8)

• Cassia Aster (D11)

• Chantria Pomole (D11)

 

Team Nightlock

• Lexa Woods (D7)

• Mazie Forst (D9)