A scene from a fanfic I've been working on, set during the 65th Hunger Games, the Games that Katniss mentions in the first book, with Titus, the boy who went mad and started eating other tributes. Well this is a scene in the middle of it, narrated by the District 10 tribute, 15 year old Blaise Calder, the hero of the story.

"BLAISE!"

I stiffened, peering through the snow-coated pine trunks, my breath rising in clouds above my head. Brynne started too, and our eyes met.

"That sounded like it came from our camp," he whispered.

We stared at each other for a minute, and my heart dropped to my feet. "Oh my god. Merritt." I spun around. "Merrit!"

I began rushing through the snow, ignoring the twigs and brambles that slapped across my face. No. We shouldn't have left him at camp.

"MERRITT!" I yelled as I tripped over a rock, clenching my pocket knife in my hand. "Merritt, I'm coming!"

My body went cold when I heard a cry and the sound of steel meeting flesh, and I made my legs move even faster. I didn't know if Brynne was following or not, but it didn't matter; I had to save that little boy. When I burst into the clearing, I saw two Careers. I recognized the girl who was watching was the District 1 girl, and the boy who was stabbing Merritt was her partner. I let out a scream, and the girl was smart enough to slip back into the trees, but the boy wasn't as quick. He dropped Merritt and took the sword out of his little body, but before he could do anything, I unsheathed my knife and threw it. It hit him squarely in the heart, and he was dead before he hit the ground. I couldn't hear the cannon firing because I was shouting Merritt's name.

The little boy was crumpled on the cold ground, clutching his stomach, whimpering and shuddering as blood poured from him. I knelt down next to him and gathered him into my arms, and for a moment, it felt like Pol's death all over again. Merrit's big, sad blue eyes were wide and streaming tears, and his dark curly hair was matted with blood and sweat. He clutched at the fabric of my coat and buried his face in my neck; I felt his blood soak into my clothes, but I didn't care. I just wanted to hold him forever. He let out a soft sob and took in a shaky breath.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry…" he whispered.

I looked down at him. "For what?"

He closed his eyes and another wave of tears rolled down his dirty cheeks. "I couldn't s-s-stop them… they t-took e-everything…"

I held him tighter and tried not to cry out. "Don't you dare talk like that! It's not your fault, Mer. It's gonna be okay, alright? I just need to patch you up a bit, and you'll be okay."

He shook his head and I felt his tiny hand pat mine. "It's okay… I-I think I'm ready to go home…"

He looked up at the falling snow and his face distorted in pain again. I wiped the blood and the dirt off his cheek with my jacket sleeve and brushed his bangs out of his eyes, rocking the little boy back and forth as if he was my little brother back home. He started crying again, and I continued rocking him.

"Sshh, sshh," I whispered. "Stop crying, I'm here, Merritt. It's okay, I'm here."

After several minutes, his sobs faded and his breathing began to slow, until he was hardly moving anymore. Finally, his eyes closed and his grip on my arm loosened.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. "Merritt?"

His soft face was still, and I gave his thin shoulder a small shake. "Mer? Don't you dare die on me! Goddamnit, Merritt, don't you dare die! "

The young boy made no reply; he just lay limply in my arms.

I felt Bryne's hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Blaise…."

I wiped my eyes with my arm and sat back on my heels, setting him down gently on the frost-caked ground. I looked at his round, pale face, the dark waves of ebony atop his head and his small nose, and raised my hand, touching the three middle fingers of my hand to my lips in a sign of reverence. "I'm sorry for not protecting you. I'll make it up to you, I… I promise."

I looked up into the sky, hopefully into a camera, and tried not to let the tears show. "Why?" I shouted hoarsely. "Why are you doing this to us? We don't deserve this!"