Author's Note:

This disclaimer is meant for the entire story: I do not own The Hunger Games series in any way, shape, or form.

I didn't realize how many fanfics there are about Annie's story until after I started writing, so I am sincerely sorry if mine resembles a story you have written about Annie or one that you have come across on the site and I would greatly appreciate it if you let me know so that I can change my story up a bit more, thank you =]

And thank you to anyone who reads this, even if you don't review. This is my first Hunger Games fanfiction-I just finished the trilogy and it was absolutely amazing! I hope I did these wonderful books some justice =]

Love,

AL

I thought that I was immune but as it turns out, no one is. It was silly to ever think otherwise. I don't mention any of this to the boy beside me. We've only just met and even that was a fluke-I wouldn't even know his name if I hadn't been too preoccupied vomiting what little was left in my stomach to flee. My eyes peer up from out of the water to watch him poke at the twinkling embers of his growing fire with a stick. One shoots into the air with a distinctive crackle as the logs shift and for a moment his pale eyes flicker my way.

"You should probably get out of there soon; you won't have any warm clothes to wear when night falls."

I dip my head beneath the surface and suck in deep, filling my mouth with the cool spring water before tilting it to the sky to spout it back out like a whale. "I can't," I inform him as a bit of water trickles down my chin and plops down into the stream. When he first rescued me he forced water into my limp body, pushing it down my convulsing throat, but I couldn't taste it. It didn't fill my mouth or dance over my tongue but rather leapt straight into me-I was drinking so fast that it bypassed my mouth completely and I could hardly feel its soothing qualities as I swallowed. I never want to feel that way again.

So I lie on my back in the stream, which is hardly deep enough to cover the entire surface of my body.

"And why is that?" he voice holds a peculiar sense of curiosity within every time he speaks-a kind of something that I have never heard before. "I don't want to dry out again," I murmur, my eyes focused on the fading twilit sky. He snorts and I can hear the fire begin to crackle again, thrusting the tiniest tinge of smoke into the air. For some reason his response hurts, but I know that it shouldn't. I shouldn't expect any kindness from this boy, maybe he is truly a cruel person. I would have absolutely no idea what kind of response is and isn't likely to come out of his mouth. He could kill me on the spot and I certainly wouldn't have known if that was his character or if the instinct of a decent guy just now kicked in.

If he didn't kill you when you were dying then he won't do it now.

Maybe that is part of his plan…maybe he's only acting like the hero…

"Really, you should come out now. I don't want to have to drag your waterlogged butt to safety if another tribute shows up."

I sit up a little too fast and all of the water that had been resting on my limbs rises into the air along with me before noisily plunking back into the water. My sleek dark hair tingles as it drips water down my back and I allow myself a moment of distraction to watch the tiny fish dart away from the ripples I create while hoisting myself out of the stream. The sun, having just exploded warmth throughout the rest of the sky, is barely visible behind the trees and with the coming darkness comes the wind.

You should have gotten out sooner.

Dusk is soon approaching and even with the fire I'll have to bear the freezing cold that lies in store for me. I peel off my shirt and then more hesitantly, my pants. I pull on the pair of socks that I had been sensible enough, even in a state of fatal dehydration, to leave out in the sun. They are warm against my toes as I sit down in my underclothes, already trying not to shiver, by mess of embers that is slowly rising into a fire. "Are all people from district four so attached to the water?" I glance up at the boy and his electricity in his blue eyes startle me. I shake my head and wrap my arms around my legs, pulling them closer into me, "Is everyone in district seven attached to their trees?"

A trace of a smile plays on my lips as he raises his eyebrows in surprise, "how do you know my district?"

"You made a fire…without any fire. You clearly know your wood."

A smug, satisfied look crosses his face as he leans back, "I'm Theo."

"Just Theo?" I question and he shrugs, "nothing but."

"Annie Cresta," I reply with a smile which, to my immediate surprise, he returns. That's when I realize he's leaning against a small gray duffel bag and my eyes light with interest but I keep my mouth shut. "Are you going to fish us some dinner or is up to me tonight?"

The way he says the last part of that sentence makes it sound like there will be more nights like this. This worries me. I can't afford to drag anyone down when I know that I'm only going to die. And fast. Everyone thinks so; even the male tribute from my district who was supposed to be my friend took off running as if sticking together was never an option. I narrow my eyes, "what makes you think that I can fish?"

He laughs, although not in a mean way. No, he is much more amused as he unzips his bag, "That's your district's specialty-fishing, right?"

I glance down at the fire as he rustles through the bag. It must be pretty full because it takes a while before he pulls something out of it. I don't meet his gaze. This is where he'll find out everything-the reason why I will never be able to survive. This is where he will leave me to my fate and I will drag myself back into the dessert to wither away. He's paused, waiting for my answer. I take a deep breath and quietly admit the truth, "It is, but I can't…I can't kill things."

I'm startled, frightened, almost, as he laughs again. His eyes have the same peculiar curiosity of his tone floating in them. "Not even fish?"

"No, especially not fish."

"So tell me, Annie Cresta," he begins, popping a strip of dried meat into his mouth and then offering me one as well. "What is this?" I interrupt-it looks questionable. Smells like it too. "Squirrel."

I study the thick, jagged strip. It reminds me of bark.

Theo continues lightly, "You know things about me-about all of us. You observe, don't you? I noticed it during our time in the training center. You're quiet but really you were just watching all of us."

I'm not sure if he's talking me up to boost my ratings but the girl he speaks of doesn't sound familiar. Was I really watching, or was my mind zoned in on some far off place? I don't even know. "There are so many things that you must know already while I don't have a clue about you-aside from your recent revelation."

"Alright," I comment, trying to see where this is going, before taking a small bite of the jerky. It tastes like bark too. I take another bite, grinding the thick creature hard against my back teeth. It's far from the meals we were fed in the Capitol but I haven't eaten since day one and hunger gets the best of me.

"It would only be fair for you to explain to me why you don't kill things."

I narrow my eyes. I can't figure out what type of person this guy is. A thin layer of darkness has settled over the sky, concealing the smoke of our quaint fire. I inch closer to the flames, knowing that the winds are going to begin once it is dark enough for the stars to shine through.

A gentle breeze is already stirring. I begin to shiver and with great reluctance, tell this stranger a bit of my story before the full force of the night rains down upon us. The flames illuminate his face and I try not to look away as the shadows dance around his enchanted eyes. "I just…can't. It's unfathomable to me…the thought of harming anyone…anything…I guess the best explanation is that well, you know when you burn your hand on a flame?"

He nods studiously, his own hands dangerously close to the fire as I carry on, "I know how much it hurts to get a burn so I would never wish that kind of pain on anyone else…if that makes sense."

For some reason I expect Theo to laugh but he doesn't. He's silent and when I glance back up again his eyes are set on me. I stand up and grab the dripping clothes that I had hung from a tree branch, "It's the same when someone is sad or upset-I hate to see it because I know how hard it is to deal with the pain and while I've obviously never been killed, I wouldn't be able to purposely inflict any sort of unpleasantness on anyone knowing that I wouldn't want it done to myself. And who am I to decide who lives and doesn't? No body's life is mine to take."

"You, Annie Cresta, have a ridiculously overdeveloped sense of empathy. That's tough luck for you."

"Yeah," I frown; squeezing my damp shirt of what little water might remain.

"This is the Hunger Games, baby," he flashes me a cheesy smile; "it's eat or be eaten."

I almost laugh, but then think better of it. "You shouldn't have saved me. Then I could have died, like everyone wanted me to. I refuse to kill anyone so I obviously won't last long."

Theo stands up solemnly, no smiles any more. "You do clearly have a death wish, saying these things out loud, on camera."

He pulls something long and black from the duffel bag, "you ran when the gong sounded, right? That's why you have nothing." I nod. I'm curious as to why he asks me questions that he already seems to know. "Use this then." He's offering me the thing that he pulled out from the pack-a sleeping bag.

"I can't," I shake my head, "I told you that I'm just going to die. Let the winds take me or something but stop helping."

His face glowers with persistence, "It's not even my bag. A tribute from twelve dropped it when he was speared."

I force myself not to cringe. "Just for tonight," I state very matter-of-factly.

"As you wish," he smiles and I can't help but trust this boy. I had seen some strange arenas being televised in the past and while this one isn't too peculiar it almost feels like it was specifically designed to kill me. I think of our first day here as I unfold the sleeping bag. The golden cornucopia had dazzled in the scorching heat, placed on a mountain of sand. I had hoped that it was only one patch of sand to make getting to supplies a harder feat but when I looked out over the arena I saw it. Everywhere. It was an ocean of a different kind-waves of hot, rolling sand as far as the eye could see. We were placed in a dessert and the only thing that I could think of as the gong echoed throughout the wasteland was that the game makers had done a wonderful job of getting their point across: No Mercy.

"What will you do when the winds come?" I ask with a bit too much uncertainty. He seems pleased when he's able to give me a sensible answer, "This place I brought you to? It's called on oasis-an island in the sand. The water in the creek comes from an underground well and is the thing that gives life to the trees nearby. I've also noticed that the trees help with the winds. I spent the first night here and it feels like a summer breeze compared to out there on the sand."

I'm so overcome with joy that I feel like hugging this near-stranger. I discovered the winds, as did everyone else, on my first night in the arena. I hadn't seen another contestant since the Games first began so I figured I didn't need much cover. I tried to rest by a cluster of some dead plant when the seventy mile per hour gusts began. The desert just wasn't enough. They needed to trap us in a hurricane-like wind while we tried to sleep as well. The winds don't break until dawn.

I tuck my clothes into the sleeping bag, just in case, and nestle in beside them. Theo lies down beside me, using the duffel bag as a make-shift pillow. "What made you do it?" I can't help but ask as the sky darkens even more. I brace myself for the winds, despite what Theo said.

"Save you?"

I nod. He's staring at the fire, which I'm sure will be out in a matter of minutes. That's another thing about the winds, it means that unless someone has barred themselves in a cave (although I haven't seen a single one yet) then they are in store for a frigid night.

"I don't know," he shrugs, averting his eyes to the sky, "it's never fun to watch someone die of dehydration. There's not nearly enough blood-I was only thinking of the audience."

It isn't until I look at his face that I realize he's teasing. He responds to my scowl with a patronizing smile. The anthem of Panem plays as the stars begin to shine overhead. There are no faces in the sky tonight. No tributes have died. This won't fare well with the Capitol. At day three there should be far more than eight deaths by the end of day three. The sound of the anthem also means that the winds have begun, but so far they have yet to hit us. Maybe Theo's right about this place.

"You're so innocent, little Annie," he says abruptly, causing me to tilt my head back so that I can see his face.

"That's why I saved you."

He doesn't give me time to reply. He rolls over, turning his back to me, just as a cool breeze washes over us. The trees sway slightly, but in the end he's right. The winds don't touch us here. I let out a sigh of relief and for the first time since the games began, I allow my mind to wander away from thoughts of death and survival. I hope that Mama Mags isn't too distraught. I don't mean to be so negative about the Games, I'm only trying to be realistic but I'm sure that my attitude hasn't exactly given my mentor anything to be proud of.

I burrow deeper beneath the sleeping bag. The one good thing about the winds is that no one will be hunting at night. I try to stay vigilant, just in case, but my eyelids feel so heavy...

I think of the ocean as I drift to sleep. Not this horrible sand, but the gentle lapping of the emerald waves with foam that rises up between my toes. I imagine that I'm back home-swimming like it's just another day with the taste of salt on my lips while water birds chatter up above and I am tangled up in blue where I belong.