Feral doesn’t feel like she got any sleep at all, but morning light is filtering through the dust of the library and she sits up, groaning. She stands and tries to stretch away her stiffness but is stopped short by a painful hollowness in her core. She bends double and closes her eyes until the experience passes. When she looks up, Kyrie is there.

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When the morning comes, Linus’ nausea has almost completely disappeared, which makes him realise how hungry he really is. He rises slowly, closing his eyes to soothe his aching head, and looks around. There has to be some food nearby, or something he can use to protect himself from the dead, so he starts searching.

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The bodies lurch towards her as she blinks her sticky eyes, her exhausted mind whirling to understand the scene. A glob of festering skin drips from the mouth of the nearest form and her stomach turns. More silhouettes stagger through the opening and inch towards her now standing frame. Terrified, Nessa fights her stiffness and exhaustion and focusses on her surroundings. Battling a pounding heart and half a head still in nightmares, she tears open one of the french fry bags on a pantry shelf. She whips her head to the approaching dead as she shakes the majority of the fries out. Her breathing is strained as she thrusts the water bottles and granola bars into the makeshift sack and grasps at her bow and arrows. Sliding the bow over her shoulder and clutching the arrows and bag in her hand she stands frozen for a moment and stares into the sunrise as it leaks through the sickly fog over the brim of the arena.

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Kyrie is again battling his heavy eyelids and constant yawning when Rose taps him on the shoulder. Already half sleeping, he blinks quickly and turns to face her as she crouches down to meet him.

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He wakes up feeling cold and weak. So weak. The carpet beneath him is wet and sticky beneath his bare stomach. Wincing, he reaches to feel his back and his hand comes away slimy and dark red with blood. He shivers and feels his bile rise, but he doesn’t have the strength to vomit. Slowly, he curls into a loose foetal position, where he remains in delirium while the morning passes.

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Rose dries her eyes and sets her jaw. She is not going to sit here crying uselessly while she has the chance to do something.

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Task 10…

…is nearly ready for publication!

What you have to look forward to in the next week or two:

- Coraline’s next chapter
- Your final tasks!

Task 10: The Morning

Your tributes have passed the night, and now day is dawning. While you as a writer know that Coraline and company are closing in on the arena, your tribute does not—so how do they occupy themselves in the morning? The zombies (undead, walking corpses, and living dead are all better terms to use) are still stumbling around, and by morning they cover most of the arena.

If you tribute hasn’t had anything substantial to eat or drink in the past 36+ hours, he or she may be feeling faint and will certainly be weakened.

This task will take you until noon, when these things happen:

- There is a massive boom and electrical buzzing noise.
- The blurring fog disappears
- The massive projection screen and force field dome becomes visible: an expansive latticework of black fiberglass and glimmering blue-grey screens

About ten or fifteen minutes after this happens, the south wall/force field erupts in a gigantic explosion, sending rubble and fire a block northwards.

How does your tribute react to these developments? Remember, your tribute doesn’t know what’s happening outside the arena. Does he hide? Does she investigate? Is your tribute exploring those blocks when the wall explodes?

Your initial task will be due sometime next week, sooner rather than later.

The night passes slowly, and Linus does not close his eyes for a single second. The recent terrors are still clear in his mind, making him feel too sick to notice his hunger or thirst. It is not until the last hours before sunrise that he forces down the last granola bar, bit by bit, barely keeping it down. Constantly, the image of rotting corpses enters his mind—an empty eye socket staring at him whenever he blinks.

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Nessa sleeps with little disturbance, the clammy air sticking to her limbs and adhering strands of hair to her face. A half-conscious shiver wakens her in the darkness, but she curls her arms tight around herself and returns to sleep.

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