The cannon fire echoes through the arena, signaling another death. I count silently—twelve now. Half the tributes gone, and we've barely been here a week.

Beside me, Annie shivers, though I'm not sure if it's from cold or fear. The autumn air bites through our thin thermal layers, and the reservoir behind us reflects the gray sky like a sheet of lead. The piranha mutts circle lazily beneath the surface, waiting for their next meal.

"We need to move before dark," I say, tightening the makeshift bandage on Annie's arm. The gash from Judy's axe is healing slowly, infection still a threat without proper medicine. "The Gamemakers will push us together soon."

Annie nods, her eyes distant as she stares across the water. "She was my friend," she murmurs, not for the first time. "We trained together. Ate together. And I didn't even see it coming."

I know she doesn't mean Judy. She means Emerald, the District 1 tribute whose head rolled into Annie's arms during the bloodbath. Another ghost haunting us both.

I glance at the sky, searching for the hovercraft that will collect the latest body. Instead, I spot movement in the trees on the far shore—someone watching us. Too far to identify, but definitely human.

Annie follows my gaze, her hand tightening around the knife I gave her. "Career pack?" she whispers.

"Or Judy," I say, though I doubt it. Judy wouldn't linger this close after betraying us. More likely the remaining Careers from District 2, or maybe Trenton from 7.

Whoever it is, they've seen us. The question now is whether they'll attack before nightfall or wait for darkness to cover their approach.

The wind shifts, carrying the faint scent of smoke from a distant campfire. The Gamemakers are forcing the remaining tributes together, just as I predicted. We're running out of time to decide our next move.

Annie's hand finds mine, cold but determined. "What do we do?"