And I'm back! The story is finally complete, so now I'm gonna post it, probably every 2-3 days, I still have to decide.

This chapter is longer than the first, and has a different POV. The chapters are mostly from Katniss' POV, but some will be from Peeta's because I felt that certain songs could be referred to him better.

I don't own THG series nor My Head is an Animal.

Now, on to reading!

Peeta's POV

White pain shoots from my leg through all my body as I unsteadily wobble away from the tracker jackers' tree. I got some nasty stings from the venomous insects, but what worries me the most is the blood hastily and abundantly pouring out of the wound Cato inflicted me. I feel dizzy and nauseous, but I don't have time to stop to catch my breath, or inspect the actual state of my injury. Plus, the venom hadn't been doing anything but increasing my panic and pain. I have to get as far away as possible.

With some effort, through horrendous visions, I arrive to the river, where, out of strength, I fall face first and pass out on the muddy ground. That's what give me the idea when I wake up, who knows how long after that. I cover myself with mud as fast and as thoroughly as I can.

With my alliance with the careers' pack broken and my bleeding leg, there is absolutely no chance for me to stay alive in the Arena. And I need to stay alive, if I still want Katniss to win the Games.

I've done my best back there, when I fought Cato to give her enough time to escape. From there, she was on her own. At least until I'll feel better.

But now I'm not fooling myself anymore. Fever has obviously taken over my body, and the humidity of the river bank isn't helping me fight the cold shivers that are overtaking me at all time. Nor the way too scorching sun of the day hours is helping with the excessive perspiration.

I don't have to look at my leg to be sure about it. I'm not an idiot. I know what blood poisoning looks like.

I don't know how long I stay here, laying in mud, feverish. Long enough for me to start hallucinating. Because they were obviously hallucinations. My brothers weren't in the Arena with me. Luckily.

"Hey, lil' bro." says Rye sitting next to my leg, a slightly disgusted expression on his face that tells me anything I need to know about its state.

Bran stands in his place, hovering over us like the protective big brother he's always been, looking more stoic than ever. "How are you, Peeta?" he asks.

"Bad, if you are here." I whimper. A little, sad smile cracks his face, but just for a second.

We fall silent for a while, then Rye suddenly perches up. "Hey, Peet! Do you remember that time in the spring after you turned six when we made a boat out of feathers?"

"Bones." interjects Bran.

"What?" both Rye and I ask him.

"We made it out of bones." he says. "Chicken bones, to be precise."

Rye looks at him for a long moment, the confusion of someone who remember things going in another way clear on his face. He dismisses it pretty quickly, though, waving his hand towards our older brother. "Yeah, whatever. Anyway, Peet, do you remember it? We tried to make it float in the basin mom uses to do the laundry."

"Yeah." I smile weakly. "It sank."

"Yeah" he chuckles.

"You guys were fools to think that a boat made of bones would float." Bran says crunching beside us.

Rye punches him on the arm. "Shut up! You gave me the idea."

He shakes his head and looks at me. "And do you remember that time, a couple of winter after, when we wanted dad to find the bakery ready to go and we sneaked in the kitchen in the middle of the night and tried to turn on the ovens?"

I chuckle a little at this. How could I forget that memorable night? We set fire to our home. "Rye and I were so scared of mom's reaction that we fled to the meadow, even if we were walking barefoot in the snow." I grimace at this. Bran took the majority of the brunt of our mother's wrath that night. "Sorry about that." I tell him.

He shrugs. "Water under bridges."

"So, you're here for this? Reminisce on the past one last time before your little bro leaves this world for good?" I asks them.

"Whatever you want, Peeta." Bran says. "We are not really here. We are in your head, so we do whatever you want us to do."

"Oh."

We fall silent once again. I can feel the little strength I've left slip out of me. I know I'm about to lose consciousness. But I don't know if I will open my eyes to see my brothers again. If this is our last chance, then I have to say something, thank you, goodbye.

"I'm happy you came, guys." I mumble as my eyelids start to close on their own volition and all I can do is fight against them. And lose, apparently. "Thanks." is the only thing I can say to sum up all I'm feeling. I hope they understand that I'm not thanking them for being here in this moment. It's for all the times they were there. For helping me when I first was learning dad's recipes, or practicing for wrestling matches in our shared room, or defending me from mom, or simply being my brothers.

"Everything for you, lil' bro." Rye says.

"Bye, guys."

The last thing I hear before losing my struggle to stay awake is Bran's voice as he whispers something akin to "Bye, Peetie."

When I wake up my throat is dry as a desert at midday. Despite I'm laying only two feet from the river, it takes me time and fatigue to crawl to the water. And when I finally am there, I drink greedily, cupping water in my muddy hands. Not worrying about possible sickness.

What gives me pause is something hard that I put in my mouth with the water without even noticing it. I spit it on my hand and observe it.

A tooth.

Instinctively I count my teeth with my tongue. They're at their place, all twenty-eight. It isn't mine.

I look back at the water, and that's when I see them. A bunch of teeth are stuck on the river bed. Some are just starting to get free, led by the current. Someone lost his teeth and now they're swimming in the river.

I turn just in time to throw up on the ground. My stomach aches with every painful heave, pushing out only its gastric juices. Then I slump on the puddle of my own vomit – I vaguely think of Haymitch – and pass out.

The next time I'm awaken by the sound of a screaming owl. Wait. Are there owls in the Arena? Wait. Do owls scream? Huh.

It's night. There are a million stars up in the sky. But who knows if they are real or just projected in the sky by the Capitol. Like the faces of the fallen tributes.

In the fever induced slumber I somehow had a nice dream. I was with Katniss, out in the woods back in District 12, hunting. Well, she was hunting. I was following her mesmerized as she was crunching leaves in the wind to determine which way to go to not let her prey catch her scent. I knew we were going where I'd never been, and that thrilled me to no end.

"Peeta?"

I slowly turn my head towards the sound, trying to focus my bleary eyes on the figure next to me. Blonde curls tidily cascade over her shoulders, and soft blue eyes search my face worriedly. I would recognize that heart-shaped face everywhere. "...Delly?"

"Hey." A gentle smile stretches my best friend's face. I'm so happy to see her face. She moves her hand to stroke my hair, but hesitates and then retrieves it. Instead she shakes her head, and her smile grows in a teasing smirk. "You're filthy."

I chuckle.

"You did it, Peeta. You held on to your promise to not lose yourself in the Games. You've been so good, Peeta. Bet it's not over yet. You can't die this way." Her smile is once again sweet.

"What are you talking about?" I mumble.

"Hold on, Peeta" She says. "Hold on to your heart. Someone will come to help you, I promise."

"How can you... be so sure about..."

"I just am."

I smile weakly. That's Delly for you. Always the optimist. Even when I'm dying and I'm certainly not so positive about the near future. Or maybe I am. I mean, if she is just in my head, she could be saying what I am thinking too. Or maybe that is just what I think she would say. I'm happy that at least I can see her, though. I don't speak my thoughts, but surely Delly can read them on my face. Her eyes fill up with tears and she unsuccessfully tries to stifle a sob.

"Love you, Dell." I tell her. What else could you say to the best friend of a lifetime in what is probably the last time you'll see each other?

"Love you too, Peetie." she sniffs.

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye to you, my friend."

With Delly no more next to me, I take the chance to say goodbye to all the people that hasn't come see me during the previous days. My parents. Yes, my mother included. She could be a major bitch when she gets mad, but she's my mother, still. My other friends from school. Portia and my prep team, that I came to care about since the beginning of all this nightmare. Effie Trinket and her pink, all-over-the-place attire. Even Haymitch, who had not helped me not even once while in the Arena. Well, at least I'm sure he's helping Katniss. That's enough.

My last thought goes to her. Wherever she is, I hope she's safe. Or simply alive.

After that, I just lay there, waiting for someone, anyone – Cato, death, her – to find me.

I still don't know if it is out of luck or not that Katniss is the one to.

Let me know what you think! I'm on Tumblr (littleevilisa) :D