Chapter Four
Trill is between the girl from One and the boy from Four, and as soon as the gong sounds, he makes a break for the Cornucopia. I don't know if he's a good runner at home or not, but here, it's useless. The mud and thin rivulets of water make running difficult, if not impossible. The ones actually making progress toward the Cornucopia seem to have lucked into fairly solid ground. Trill's foot sinks into the mud and he's thrown forward.

The boy from Four, Harris, rushes over, turns his face down, and holds him under the muddy water until he's still.

I stare at his body, willing him to get up, silently promising him any kisses he wants, but he stays down.

He's not the only one down. I don't know the order, but there are already losses in District Nine and District Six. A group is converging on the Cornucopia now, which is up on a semi-dry hillock, and the battle begins.

Babra is not in that group. I check her screen. She did exactly what Haymitch told her - she jumped backward off her platform and is moving as quickly as she can toward the shadows. The tributes' uniforms this year seem to be some kind of body length swimsuits, topped off by rain slickers. Both are dark green and gray camouflage. Babra is already soaked despite the nominal protection, and she's rubbing her arms for warmth.

I look at Trill's screen again.

He's still down.

I shake the screen.

Haymitch puts his hand over mine. "He's gone, Effie."

I shake my head. "It's just the beginning…"

"Not for Trill."

"No…"

"Effie, I told you what would happen. This is what happens every year. This is what the Games are."

I stare at the screen. I think about Trill flirting with me on the train.

"We still have to watch out for Babra."

I nod. Take a deep breath.

"Do you want me to watch her while you call Trill's family?"

"I'm going to wait until the official count is through. Just in case he's only unconscious. But he's not. I want to make sure she's away clean, too."

The phone rings, and I grab it. Anything to not look at Trill face down in the mud. I turn on the video connection. There's an older lady there, holding a cute little dog. The dog is wearing a little cap that has the number twelve on it in sparkly rhinestones.

"Hello," I say, trying to keep my voice perky and my smile sharp. "I'm Euphemia Trinket, District Twelve. Can I help you?"

"Oh, you poor thing, that boy was your friend wasn't he?"

"Yes, ma'am. Trill was a good boy."

She pats the dog. "Well, I'm Ancharia King, and Popples and I would very much like to help the girl out. What do you need that I can help with?"

I look up at the screen. Babra is on the main screen now, stuck at an expanse of dirty water, trying to hide in the tree line. "Well, ma'am, she's going to need to keep her provisions as dry as she can, and she'll need a water purifier, too. Do you think you could help us get her a bag to keep her things in? They're pricey, but we have other sponsors helping out…"

I get a solid donation out of Ancharia King, and I feel better. I decide to work down a list of names of potential sponsors that Haymitch has jotted down at the back of the book. It seems like the right thing to do.

By the time they start sounding the cannon for the battle at the Cornucopia, I've secured enough money to get Babra a bag and some water purifying tablets (along with a bottle), and Haymitch has directed me to start working toward a waterproof sleeping bag. Babra herself has found a log, and is using it as a float to paddle herself along in the shallow water behind a curtain of vines. After capsizing several times, her long, pretty hair is stuck to her back in muddy clumps.

"It looks like the vegetation is mostly edible," he says. "Probably a few poisonous things to watch out for, but she did all right at plant recognition. Food should be okay. And no one seems to be convulsing from the water, so with the purifier, she should be okay there, too."

I nod. My hands are shaking. I didn't notice that. Trill's screen is dark. I can't see him in the mud anymore. They're probably already bringing him up to the hover craft.

"I need to call the Morrisons," Haymitch says. "Are you okay on your own? Keep an eye on the public screen, so you'll know what the sponsors are talking about."

"I'm fine."

He looks at me doubtfully for a minute, then sighs. "I guess you are. You're good at this. But you forgot to put it on my schedule to thank Caesar. I'm glad you're here, Effie." He stands to go, then turns back. "I'm not one to talk, but… during the Games, could you not take whatever you took before you came in?"

"It was just a mood adjustor. Miss Meadowbrook gave it to me."

"I wish she'd stop adjusting her mood, too. But I don't need her here. I do need you. I'd rather have you in a bad mood and all the way here than checked out. All of this is real, Effie. I need you to remember that."

"Okay."

He nods and goes to the bank of phone booths to place his call to District Twelve.

I turn my attention to the public screen, though I keep Babra's screen where I can see it as well. (She's investigating the parachute we sent her and purifying some water.) On the main screen, the inner district kids are sheltering inside the Cornucopia, sorting out the spoils. The girl from District Four didn't make it. She was attacked by a mutt with large teeth after the battle ended, while I was on the phone with sponsors. If Harris is in pain over this - or over drowning Trill in cold blood - it doesn't show. He is sitting on top of an empty crate, going through a pile of weapons.

"What is this?" the girl from Two asks, scraping muck off her boots and tossing it down in disgust. The caption identifies her as Lucia.

"It's a swamp," Harris says. "It's different from the one we have down by the coast, but same idea. You want to spread your weight out as much as you can, or you can sink in the mud. And check depths." He sighs. "And watch for the gators."

"The whats?"

"The thing that got Fanning. It's a mutt version, but it's still a gator. I'd guess there are some nasty bugs around here, too."

"How are we going to get around?" Lucia asks. "They'll hear us coming - you either splash or squelch around here."

"Can you swim?"

Most of them can. Harris announces that their strategy will be to find deep water, and swim as silently as possible to confront enemies. "They'll be on dry enough ground that they'll hear us when we come up, but we'll try to come up close enough that they can't run. And you guys are going to get some practice before we raid. You looked like crap getting here."

The District One boy, Tourmaline, stands up and moves directly into Harris's space. "I don't know. You've about outlived your usefulness already. Thanks for the advice. But you're not the general."

Harris raises his legs and kicks Tourmaline in the abdomen without too much force, just pushing him away. "You think I'm the only one who knows how to handle a swamp? I guarantee they've got them in Eleven, and I'd be willing to bet the lumberjacks in Seven know what to do if they run across one in the woods. So you've got four more people to worry about, who all handle it better than you desert people do. And I doubt there's one of you who knows how to catch a frog or fish. I'm willing to help you out, because it'll be easier for a while with the usual gang, but I don't care whether or not you find me useful. If you don't want to work with me, I'll leave you on your own, or I'll kill you. It's all the same to me. One way or another, I mean to go home."

Lucia gets between them. "Let's not go to melee before the end," she says. "We'll work this stuff out then." She looks from one to the other. "Guys, come on. We're all friends from training, right?"

Beside me, I hear Chaff snort. I look at him.

"Friends from training," he explains. "That's the story every year, but it's a business deal. They mostly hated each other."

"Oh."

"Sorry to spoil the story for you."

"No. It's interesting to know." I smile. "Besides, most people figure that's an act."

"They do?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"Huh. I figured Capitol people just bought the whole show."

I roll my eyes. We're not rubes. Of course it's a show. Most years, the kids are actually mean to each other.

On screen, Tourmaline and Harris grudgingly shake hands. The girl from One, Catawba, who has been carefully arming herself and retreating toward the exit during this exchange, stops and says, "Then we're still allies?"

Harris shrugs. "Until melee. Then I don't care. I'm going home. They didn't let me say goodbye to my mother."

The coverage abruptly cuts away. Whatever Harris is saying, the Gamemakers have decided isn't for public consumption. I shouldn't want to know. But I can see on one of the small screens that he's talking as they get ready to leave. Saying something. I note the number on the screen, check our audio array and start to move my earphone plug.

I can't, though. It's not for my ears, and besides, Babra might need my attention and -

"Go ahead."

I look up at Haymitch, who looks about a year older than he did before he called the Morrisons. "What?"

"I saw you. You want to know what he's about to say. So do I. Listen. Tell me later. I'll watch Babra."

"Is it allowed?"

"They gave you the console, didn't they? So they must want you to use it."

I guess this is true. If it were forbidden, it wouldn't be possible.

I plug into the sound system for the inner district alliance.

"…mayor was pulling names," Harris finishes, looking disgusted.

"I didn't notice," Catawba says.

"Yeah, well, they didn't make a very big deal, did they? But our escort was speared on the beach like the world's ugliest fish. And they started dragging the women in to interrogate them. They had my mom during the whole visiting time."

"Why would they do that?"

"The old District Seven escort - and Twelve, I guess - killed him. So they think she's hiding with us."

"How do they know?"

Harris looks around. "All I know is what I heard. He was stabbed through the chest with a trident - that's a fishing spear - but there was something cut on his chest with a knife. Everyone was talking about it before the reaping. One of the guys from the crew that found him said she wrote 'Love, Gia' on his chest. Or maybe that was on paper or something, I don't know, but there was a knife there. It was an arena knife. Had the name of one of the kids from the fiftieth Games on it. Those were her last Games, and one of those knives might have been on the train, right? So they're pretty sure it's her. Only she didn't come forward, so they're interrogating everyone. And I want to get back, because I want to know that my mom's all right."

"I get it," Catawba tells him. "But everyone wants to get home, Harris, and only one of us is going to."

"Yeah. And it's going to be me. Sorry, but it's true."

"It doesn't make sense," Tourmaline says.

"What doesn't?"

"Why they'd drag in everyone." He shrugs, and passes a water bottle over to the boy from District Two, Trajan. "I mean, why not just find people who appeared out of nowhere, wearing heels and talking like they're from the Capitol?"

"Anyone can cover up an accent with a little practice," Harris says. "And if she's there, she's been there almost ten years. As to people who just show up?" He shrugs. "People cross our lines from the out-districts a lot. Mostly women. We have the easiest border, through the water, if you just miss the mines. So we end up with a lot of people who just 'show up.'"

"Still, someone would have to remember…"

"And that someone would have to tell. That someone isn't telling." He grimaces. "If I ever find her…"

"You'll kill her yourself?"

Harris narrows his eyes. "They took my mother away screaming," he says. "I saw it from the platform. So, yeah. I wouldn't be real happy with her."

He moves on ahead, parting the heavy vines that hang from the swamp trees and leading them away from the Cornucopia. They stop talking.

I pull out my earpiece.

Haymitch looks at me quizzically.

"It's about your friend Gia. I guess he heard about the murder. He said they found - "

"I've seen the pictures, in gory detail."

"He's angry because she didn't turn herself in. They took his mother before he could say goodbye."

Haymitch grinds his teeth. "Great. And somehow, he's figuring it's Gia's fault."

It occurs to me that if she's not turning herself in when she sees that they're after everyone else, then it is her fault, but I reconsider before saying it out loud. I think Haymitch wouldn't agree with me.

He looks at me for a long time, then sighs and shakes his head. "We may have an alliance," he says, turning away with some finality and nodding toward the main screen. Babra's camera has come back up, and is cutting back and forth with the girl from Seven, Nell Gordon. Nell is a strong-looking girl with short brown hair, and I think she was one who boasted about how strong she was at the interviews. She has also found a log to float on, and they are circling each other warily. I'm not sure why Haymitch is assuming it's an alliance in the offing.

Nell has broken off a piece of soggy wood. It has a sharp end, and it could probably do some damage. I don't think Babra has anything, but she hides her hand in the rain jacket's pocket and calls, "You let me go, I'll let you go. I've got no grudge with you."

Nell snorts. "Like we need a grudge in here."

"Come on. We'll get a day or two. Both of us can get on our feet."

"I'm already on my feet. I spent last summer shunting logs across a swamp in Camp Six. You run into a lot of this in the coal mines?"

Babra rolls her eyes hugely. "I'm a grocer," she says.

"Oh, well, that'll make all the difference. Lots of swampland at your store?"

They close the circle a little bit, coming closer to each other. "I figure things out pretty quickly," Babra says.

"Yeah? Figure this!" Nell raises the piece of wood, but the forward motion of her arm is counterbalanced in the water, and her log slides harmlessly away. She gapes, then leans forward and laughs. "Oh, yeah," she says. "I guess that was real threatening, huh?"

Babra laughs back. "Yeah. About as scary as my weapon." She takes her empty hand out of her pocket.

"Oh, brilliant," Haymitch mutters.

Nell takes another swing with her improvised lance, which sends her log drifting away in a gentle spin.

This gets both of them laughing, even though Babra has to know that Nell didn't mean it as a joke.

"Come on," she says. "I may not know swamps, but I do know physics. Want to be allies?"

Nell looks at her quizzically. "Well, I wasn't planning on - "

The surface of the water erupts between them, sending out a huge wave and tossing both of them off their logs.

The creature that emerges is twice the size of the one that attacked the girl from Four, but it's the same kind of thing - the thing Harris called a "gator." It has razor sharp claws, and a deep mouth full of huge teeth.

Nell screams and struggles toward a small hillock in the swamp.

The gator jumps after her.

Babra takes off her jacket and uses the log to kick off of, propelling herself through the water and toward the gator.

"What's she doing?" I ask.

"No idea," Haymitch says.

She launches herself at the gator's back and climbs up. He tries to throw her, but she hangs on, and manages, somehow, to throw her jacket over its head, covering its eyes. She pulls back on the sleeves and holds it tight as it bellows and thrashes.

"Nell!" she shouts. "Nell, kill it! Get some traction and kill it!"

Nell has found something like solid ground under the water, though she's up to her chest. She grabs her pointed stick and pulls herself forward. It's slow and graceless, but she seems to be gaining confidence.

As she comes in reach of the mutt's claws, she forces the stick upward into its throat.

Blood pours down on her.

The mutt thrashes backward, and Babra jumps wildly off to one side as it falls and sinks back into the swamp, leaving it suddenly and eerily silent. Babra gets up and wrings mud out of her hair.

"So," Nell says. "You were saying something about being allies?"

Babra grins.

"How did you know?" I ask Haymitch. "I thought that girl was going to kill Babra."

"They're both scared to death. They both ran away from the Cornucopia, like smart people do. So, scared smart people realize that it's a little less scary with help."

"Were you scared?"

"I had forty-seven people out to kill me. What do you think?"

"I guess I never thought about it. You didn't look scared."

"They're all scared, Effie. Every last one of them. Even the ones going on about how they're sure they'll win."

The clarity I woke up with is starting to fade. I can't think about this, so I stop thinking about it. "Let me get the alliance papers for Mr. Hedge," I say. I pick up the case of papers under the table and start looking for the right forms.

There's a soft thump, and I look up to find that Oliver Hedge - better known as Blight - has pushed his table over. "Haymitch," he says.

"Blight." They shake hands. Haymitch pulls over a chair for Blight's escort. "You know, I could have come over there."

"You got extra room on one side," Blight says. "It's easier this way. They need to keep moving somehow. It's harder to hit a moving target."

Haymitch nods. "You noticed that, too? Mags's girl, and now it comes after ours?"

"I'm not counting on it just being the girls," Blight says. "I'm keeping a close eye on Sebastian, too." He looks in my direction. "Is this your new escort?"

"Yeah. Eff- Euphemia Trinket, Blight Hedge."

"Pleased to meet you!" I say, extending my hand.

He shakes it. "Likewise." He turns back to Haymitch. "So how can we help them keep moving…?"

The two of them start talking about what gifts to send them. It sounds like they mean to send messages, which they're not supposed to do - once the tributes are in the arena, it's supposed to be all their own thinking - but which everyone guesses they do anyway. There are all kinds of convoluted theories about mentor messages. I'm starting to think the reality might be even more convoluted.

They both seem very sure that their tributes are being targeted, even though other districts (Six and Ten) have already lost both tributes, while we still have Babra, District Four still has Harris, and Blight hasn't lost either of them. In my head, I hear an old teacher of mine from Capitol Dreams, Papirius Long sighing as he looks out the window at some party or another. "The districts are paranoid and ignorant, Euphemia. It's no fault of their own - they've been stuck in these cultural ruts for generations. They're never really exposed to life. They reject knowledge, and they fill the gaps with crazy ideas about how everyone is out to get them. That's how Thirteen got them to go along with its nonsense in the Dark Days. When you don't really believe in anything, you become very gullible. That's why we make sure that you believe in the Capitol, that you understand that we only want the best for these people in the end, even when they don't know what's best for themselves. It's a bulwark against gullibility."

The thing is, Haymitch may be many things - many of them not very pleasant - but he doesn't strike me as gullible, and he's a million miles from ignorant. And honestly, I didn't meet a lot of people in District Twelve, but the ones I did meet seemed quite smart.

I guess it doesn't prevent paranoia.

On the main screen, they finally return to the inner district alliance. Lucia has taken over generalship, and Harris is letting her. They've commandeered a tent in the Cornucopia, and after some searching, they've found almost solid ground to set it up on, though Catawba, who's trying to place the stakes, finally gives up and secures the ropes to protruding tree roots. The resulting tent is lopsided, but seems secure enough. It's big enough for four out of the five of them, if a little tight, and the fifth will always be on guard duty outside, anyway.

Harris takes the first watch, sitting stoically on a rock while the others get things arranged.

"We should go back for the other tent," Trajan says. "I don't like just leaving the supplies wrapped up." He points toward a large ball of plastic wrapping, where they've stored all the food they carried from the Cornucopia. It's tethered to a tree.

"Tent's not going to help," Harris says, not even looking over his shoulder into the tent. "It's just one more layer to get through when we want to get something."

"Speaking of which," Lucia says, "is anyone hung-"

Harris stands up, pulling a sword. "Something's coming."

A howl breaks the foggy quiet of the swamp, then another, and another.

The alliance comes out of the tent, weapons drawn.

Three wolves come slinking out of the trees, balancing on the tree roots, their great teeth bared.

They launch themselves at Harris.

He strikes the first one cleanly, cutting its neck deep. The second and third jump him from the sides. Tourmaline grabs one and yanks it off, tossing it aside, stunned.

Harris puts the sword through a second wolf, but it seems to stick, and when the body rolls off into the water, it takes his weapon with him.

"Well, that was bracing," Catawba says, looking around nervously. She has a hunting knife raised in front of her. "They were - "

The stunned wolf jumps to its feet with sudden ferocity, and rushes on Harris. He grabs it by the neck and rolls it over into the water, forcing its head under until it stops moving.

"Wow," Tourmaline says, "the mutts really don't like District Four this year."

The other inner district kids laugh, but Harris doesn't. "They really don't," he says, and kicks away the drowned wolf. "Before the overgrown poodles decided to adopt me, did someone say something about being hungry?"