The Hunger Games: Spoiled Sapling

by CragmiteBlaster

In the Hunger Games, you either win or you die. But during the Bloodbath, the District Seven Female only goes halfway towards defeat, feigning death as the carnage rages on. Spoiled and pampered all her life and with a Mentor who gave up on helping her right from the start, can Nettle prove Johanna wrong and show she's got what it takes to survive? Part of The Nameless Chronicles.

4. Day 4: Truth and Lies

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.

Note: Here we are, back for more! Not really got a ton to say on this one except that I had fun writing it, and I hope you guys have fun reading it. If you have time, feel free to drop a review and let me know what works / doesn't work. I love hearing your opinions on how to make a better Hunger Games... gee, I sound like a Gamemaker, huh? In any case, let's get this show on the road!

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I wake up with a scream, my heart pounding. The water, the suffocating feeling, the way Clove was beneath the water with me and eating my fingers... just a dream. Not real. She's dead, the nightmare can't possibly be real.

Then again, her death was my fault and that's probably what triggered the nightmare in the first place. That dead look in her eyes, the fear as I drowned her beneath the water... thoughts like that really stick with a girl.

It's still dark outside. Not even early dawn yet. I should try and get some more rest, but I honestly doubt that I will be getting anymore sleep tonight. Not with how I'm feeling so shaken. I guess this is where the day is going to be starting for me, at ungodly early hours nobody should have to be awake for.

Well, fine then. I should get used to having an erratic sleep schedule for as long as I am in this Arena, and perhaps nobody else is awake at the moment? If all the other tributes are asleep, then the odds of being attacked are surely almost zero. The thought has me quickly on my feet, ready to go.

"I said I was gonna build a boat," I tell myself. "So, that's what I am going to do. Ok, I read a book on boats in the manor a few times... yeah, I remember what it said. Uh, Johanna? Mind sending in a how-to guide, just in case?"

As I predicted, I receive nothing. Humph! Well, she'll see, they'll all see! I can win these Games without a single sponsor. Now, question is should I build a raft or perhaps a canoe? I guess I'll see what supplies are laying around for me to work with and just do what I can with those. It's not like I can just walk a mile to a lumber yard and order what I need.

I quickly organise my stuff, packing everything away and making sure that my knives are easily accessible in my pockets. After some thought, I put one down by my ankle. It's easy enough to do that with some string in my backpack. I've seen people hide weapons on them like this in past Hunger Games, so why not? For all I know, the rest may be doing the same.

Exiting the cave into the night - for once, the rain has totally stopped - I can't help shiver a bit. Not just from the cold though. It's also how I feel so... I guess, forlorn? I'm in a place that is so very much like home, yet I'm practically a stranger to it. I know Wood is probably having no problems whatsoever in surviving here; he is, after all, already accomplished at the lumber yard he works at. That's what he told our Escort anyway.

He can cut wood, chop trees, swing an axe, do everything a person from Seven should know how to do. He'll be the one they're cheering for, because the other option is me; I don't really know the first thing about felling trees or cutting wood. I think maybe it's time to face the reality of it... I feel afraid about this.

How can I ever be the Mayor, the leader, of a District I completely lack the skills and work ethic to truly be a part of? How can a leader be as such if they do cannot remotely do their District's industry?

Though, maybe it's less cannot and more will not. I've never exactly been outside much or exerted myself, have I? Maybe my tiny frame is the result of wasting away the years inside?

Who says it has to be that way though? The best way to overcome an insecurity is to prove to yourself that you can do it. So, I shall! Though, all of the trees around me are very thick. Maybe I'll start off with something a bit smaller than this, something more attuned to my skill level. That being level zero.

Walking through the moonlit forest I soon find a fairly thin tree. It towers up, but the trunk is certainly on the scrawny side of things. Perfect to practise my potential skills as a lumberjill. Rearing my hand back, gripping the hatchet oh so tightly, I take a hard swing.

And another.

And another.

It's not long at all before the tree falls to the ground with a solid thump. I can't help but clap, striking a pose in case the cameras are watching me. No time to rest though, I could use this lumber. If I can cut it into logs and find a way to bind it I'll have a raft. Then it's just a matter of dragging it away to the water and casting off.

Plus, perhaps I could make a spear too? I mean, it seems to be a simple matter of getting a long branch and making it both straight and very sharp. Maybe I could use it to spear fish? I've seen people do it in past Hunger Games, and honestly... they're fish. How hard could it actually be?

I chop the tree into logs over the course of a few minutes. Of course, I make sure to keep looking around in case anybody is nearby. As much as I hope they're all sleeping, the fact remains that whoever killed Rue had been very nearby and they could still be in the same area. I tremble at the thought of any of the others killing her. They'd kill me too!

Wait... Rue said Ramsay was in the area, right? What if he's doubled back and...

I gag, trying not to throw up at the nasty thoughts that swirl in my mind. I cannot help imagining Ramsay stabbing Rue, nor the way he choked Weld to death mere inches away from me. As much as I fear the remaining Careers, that boy from Ten is one 'Outlier' I know will prove himself to be one big threat. In fact, he may have it in him to win this whole thing.

Personally, I'd rather he didn't... I know, I'm biased.

I wipe a sweat off of my forehead as I work. This is more tiring than I thought it was going to be, but I can't just stop now. Not when I still have plenty of work to do. I have logs, though maybe not enough for a raft... so, time to chop down another tree. Perhaps a bigger one this time.

A minute passes by with me striking the hatchet at a larger tree. I'm sure I could use the lumber from this for something good. Even if I can't, it's a good way to build muscle. Imagine, going from a four foot eleven inches tall toothpick to a big and strong six foot five inches lumberjill. That'd make me look like a real leader.

The tree cracks and starts to fall down, sure to smack the ground with an even bigger thud than what the first tree made.

"Shit!" a gruff voice yells.

I turn my head so fast my neck aches from the force. I quickly step back, seeing Ramsay is getting up from the ground so very close to me. Looks like the cause for his alarm was the tree almost landing where he had been standing. A nasty death indeed, to be crushed by a big tree. Indeed, he still seems rather alarmed. I'm less focused on his feelings though, moreso the rope and axe in his hands.

We're silent for a few moments, as if waiting for each other to say something first. Well, a lady shouldn't keep people waiting for too long, I suppose.

"Hello," I say. "Ramsay, isn't it? Uh... quick idea, we do not have to fight each other. We could work together, citizen with citizen. We may be from Seven and Ten, but if you think about it we're both still people and could maybe help each other? Your power, my... tree chopping? Yes, this could work wonders."

He just gives me a look.

"Actually, it's Rammy," he says. Oh... well, I feel awkward now... "I'm afraid not, little miss. Not to be rude, but I don't really see what skills you can offer that I do not already posses. I'm bigger than you, I could chop trees just as well if not better. Plus, how would I know you won't just try and kill me in my sleep like a pig for the slaughter?"

"Because I'm not a coward or a liar," I tell him. It's hard to keep calm, but I cannot show weakness. He won't want a weak ally. "Besides, I'm not weak. I was the one that killed Clove."

"Girl from Two?" he asks, looking impressed. "Mighty dang, that's impressive."

"I don't feel good about it," I say, softly.

"That don't matter, it still shows strength that you took down a career," he says, gripping his axe tighter. "But, that could also make you a big threat... and we've never spoken before, how do I know that I can trust you? I don't know that, you understand?"

"Well, I could perhaps say the same of you. I was literally a few inches away when you killed Weld," I tell him. "I also know you killed Rue, that little girl from Eleven. Despite all that, I'm still willing to work something out."

"I'll own up to killing the boy from Three, but I never laid neither hand nor weapon on that little girl," he says, shaking his head. "I don't know who did that, but it weren't me."

By this point we're starting to circle each other. I swallow some very dry saliva as I see that rope in his hands. Somehow, it scares me more than the big axe does... an axe would theoretically be quick. Being strangled to death by a rope until my lungs are empty, that's much slower and horrible.

"You sure you want to continue on in these Games working all alone?" I ask him. Not as a threat, but an honest question. "The Careers have their group and Peeta is in it. Gadget and Urchin are allied and have landmines as weapons. Wood, my District Partner, will probably excel in an Arena like this... and as we know, Katniss scored an eleven."

"Like I said, I don't trust you," he replies, not taking his eyes off of me as we continue the circling movement. "I'm not a born killer, but I am pragmatic... if killing you helps my odds of getting home, and in my opinion it will, then I gotta do it regardless of how I feel on the inside."

"Why do people never listen to diplomacy?" I ask with a groan. "It's not a hard concept! Two is more than one. Two is better to survive the Careers, who currently number at four. Your District Partner is dead, so you don't have any other allies."

I might have touched a nerve. Rammy clenches his eyes shut for a moment, clearly pained. He shudders, but quickly holds his axe tighter than ever as he looks at me.

"Sable was more than just my District Partner. She'd have been my wife one day," he says, coldly. "...She was gentle, not a killer. I would've died for her. But now she's dead... all because of that pig from Two. She'd not want me to kill... but she also accepted that I'd have to kill in order to protect her. She'd not want me to die when I have a chance to live."

He turns to face me, looking me dead in the eyes.

"On your guard, Seven," he says, firm as can be.

"My name is Nettle," I say. Perhaps Rue's idea of making sure people know one's name to make killing harder will save me?

"Fine. On your guard, Nettle," he says, even firmer. He narrows his eyes.

Ok, maybe if diplomacy failed then economics might work better? Though, what do I have to bribe him with that won't involve having to hand over my weapons?

"I have food," I offer him. "Fruit, meat and I even have some water. I could give you some if you leave."

"I appreciate it," he says. Dammit, he's not backing down. "But I can have all of it if you're eliminated, and I like my chances of winning a fight against you. Bigger size and better weapon, you see."

Ok, that does it for economics. Uh... I guess warfare will have to do, then. Of course, it's not like I can just go over there and swing the hatchet at him. Not without getting killed in the process!

"Ok, let it not be said I didn't try to work out a deal," I say, getting into a battle stance of my own. "ARRRGGH! MUTT!"

Rammy is distracted by my yell for the briefest of moments. He realises his mistake no sooner than the instant he glances away. I throw a knife at him - one of those I took from Clove - and rush right at him. The knife missed but achieved the effect of startling him, enough for me to close in and throw my whole body weight at him.

I should have known that my tiny frame wouldn't be able to do much to him. He's on the ground in a moment, but quickly throws me right off of him. I can only spit out some dirt, grab my fallen hatchet and, extra important to me now, Rammy's length of rope.

"Get back here!" he yells. "Don't flee a fight you've started just 'cause you don't think you can win anymore!"

"Technically, you started it!" is my retort to him. He's gaining on me fast, certainly faster than the speed I'm going at.

I cannot overpower him or outrun him, but perhaps I can out think him? The human mind can be as dangerous as a sword if not moreso. After all, unlike a metal blade, the mind can adapt. Right now, I need to get him to either stop chasing me or knock him over in the next few seconds; I need a plan of action, right here and right now!

Hmmmm... aha! Oh, thank heavens that I have that good old rudimentary knowledge of the laws of physics, especially motion and force.

I duck down in an instant, slowing myself. Rammy makes some kind of an alarmed sound as he trips right over me, crashing down into the dirt. I feel a jolt of soreness from the force of him tumbling over me, but it's not enough to stop me from getting back up and running to a nearby tree. Another of the small, thin kind but perhaps heavy enough to get rid of him.

Part of me hopes it misses though; I don't want another extinguished life on my conscious. But it's him or me. I can't help finding it frightening, haunting even, how easily I've stepped into fight mode. I guess the human desire to survive can be formidable when triggered in extreme situations.

Rammy is back on his feet right as I swing at the tree hard and fast. He curses in alarm, dashing to the side as the smaller tree falls. He grips his axe two-handed, looking at me in complete focus.

"Had enough?" I ask him, backing away. "We can end this, here and now. Walk away and risk both our lives. I'll even return your rope."

"You're a fighter. I can respect a fierce will to survive," he says, taking a few breathes. "But I don't want fighters to stay here. Not people who can kill me. Come on!"

The rain begins to fall once again, no doubt added by the Gamemakers for a bit of extra flair. Their idea of fine drama and my own view on the matter are worlds apart. Rammy and I circle each other, neither of us exactly injured yet but sweat is dripping down our faces. That, and lots of rainwater.

He runs at me in an instant, and I'm taken off guard without a plan. I try to swing my hatchet, but everything goes blank for a moment when pain explodes throughout my nose and the rest of my head. For a moment I feel weightless. The moment passes when I crash upon the ground. Putting my hand to my nose, I feel blood. I'm sobbing, I just cannot help it. It hurts! It hurts!

Rammy takes a few breathes, grabbing up his axe. My blood runs cold as ice. But I cannot panic; so long as I'm alive and the axe isn't buried into my neck, there is still a chance. Even if it's tiny, I still have a chance.

My hatchet lays just out of range. Just to be safe, Rammy makes sure to kick it further away. He's not taking any chances, not after the trouble I have caused him. But he overlooked a rather crucial detail when he bloodied my nose and threw me down.

He forget to make certain that I am not carrying knives and, as it happens, I am!

It's hard to think straight or even reach for the knife in my pocket with any accuracy, but I grab it just as he comes into killing range. He raises up the axe, which practically glimmers under the moonlight.

Now or never!

I lash out the knife as hard as I can manage; admittedly, not very hard. Even so, Rammy yells out as the knife stabs right through his boot and his foot beneath it. I release my grip on the knife and roll away. As Rammy collapses over, the axe comes down with him.

My screams fill the rainy night just as much as Rammy's do. While he writhes around with a knife stabbed through his foot, I'm wailing from the axe wound in my left shoulder. Not as bad as it could be - my arm is still attached - but it hurts!

AAAAYYYYIIIIIII!

I can feel the blood leaking out and staining my clothing badly. The scent of blood won't be easy to get rid of, even with all of the rain. The force of the sharp axe falling down has left a nasty cut behind, both in my clothes and my flesh. I can only hope what medical gear I have will be enough to fix it up, or maybe just keep it from being too much of a problem.

After all, I know that I cannot rely on Johanna for any sort of sponsor aid. Even if money was sent in, would she sent me something? I'm not entirely sure if she would.

"Holy fuck!" Rammy yells, trying to keep himself stable. "Nrrgghhhhh! C'mon Rammy, hold it together, get it out..."

I can see Rammy's about to yank the knife out. Not only will the thing slowing him down be gone, but he'll have a new weapon to kill me with as well. Time to move on and move out, never to come back. Not while Rammy is in the area.

I don't bother trying to attack him; in my current state I'd not pose him much of a threat and he might take the chance to throw me down again. He'd not make the same mistake twice. I grab up my hatchet, the rope and flee for my life. I have no idea where I am going; I just pick a random direction and flee into the darkness.

I glance over my shoulder just before I start to run down a hill. Rammy yanks the knife out of his foot, and for a moment all is silent.

His scream is surely something that can be heard for miles.

Nuts, he's already getting back up!

Sprinting down the damp, muddy hill I can see a hollow log. Not much, but it's better than leaving myself in the open where he'd find me and start the whole process over again. I practically skid over to it and crawl my way inside. It's dark, smells horrible and some bugs are crawling around... yet, I'm small enough to slot myself fully inside. I lay still, not moving a muscle.

Outside Rammy comes by, his pained grunts oh so close. I hold my breath as he looms near, no doubt looking all around for where I have gotten off to. It's truly a testament to his strength that he's walking at all and not screaming anymore. Truly, one of the biggest dangers to me in these Games.

My heart almost stops as Rammy sits on the log. He can't even be a few inches from me. Nuts! This is just like when he killed Weld, except now he knows I'm nearby and I'm injured. It's the ultimate struggle, holding back the tears and forcing myself to breath slow and quiet. I hear him take something from his own bag. I'm not sure what it is, but moments later I hear Rammy groaning followed by a short sigh of relief. Must be some form of medicine.

"This is exhausting," he groans, his voice wavering. "Painful, tiring, all the rest of it and it's only the start of day four. Too much to ask this can all be done by tomorrow? Not unheard of for a Hunger Games to last five days."

He pauses, just sitting quietly for a few moments. Sitting directly above me, that is.

"Guess she got away. Smart lady," he says, rising up to his feet. "I'll see her again, or maybe that wound will be infected. Either way... eleven to go, better get to it. The livestock ain't gonna slaughter themselves."

I hear his footsteps starting to become distant, very gradually. All the while, I remain hidden and too afraid to move. The urge to sob from the wound is getting horribly hard to resist.

"Livestock, not people. Meat, not people. Strangers, not friends," I hear him telling himself, notably forcefully. I guess it's a mantra of sorts, one that'll make it easier for him to end our lives come the time.

He's gone, and not a moment too soon. Only now do I let myself cry, a hand desperately clutching the bleeding area of my shoulder. I need bandages or some form of medical care, now! No family doctor here to help me now, so it's all coming down to if I've got the right supplies. I can't help fearing what'd happen if I do not.

I crawl out of he log and sprint as fast as I can in the exact opposite direction that Rammy headed off. It's hard to make fast progress with how I'm slowed down from the pain of the wound, reduced to a hobbling sort of light jogging, but I force myself to keep on going no matter what. I refuse to allow myself to stop until I finally skin down a slope and almost crash over into a flower filled grove.

My shoulder feels damp with blood right now. I force myself to press the wound to keep the sticky, messy blood inside me where it belongs. I's a struggle to yank off my backpack one handed, but I managed to get it done and search through the medical supplies. I gulp some painkillers and find a first aid spray. I've heard of these things; father says they can bring you back from the brink of death. I don't know how true that really is, but I sure hope he was accurate when he said that.

ARRRRGGGHHHH!

I grimace, heaving deep breaths as I bite my fist. That... was not nice... owwwww... but with the initial flair of pain gone I can feel the wound starting to feel a little better. Still bleeding and stinging, but at least not quite as badly.

For the next few minutes I fumble around in the dark grove, trying to bandage the wound. Of course, to do that I have to take off my jacket and shirt to even reach the wound - makes no sense to bandage the outside of my clothes, right? - and that's not easy to do through the pain and the sticky mess. The scent of blood is everywhere. I wipe it away as best I can and try to put on the bandage. Not a great job, but it's gonna have to be enough. It just has to.

The cold night has my teeth chattering in mere moments and I'm swift with getting my shirt and jacket back on. Looking around, I pick out a random direction and keep moving. I'm certain Rammy isn't in this direction and right now that's the main thing on my mind.

I gained some rope, and I took one hell of a wound to the shoulder. The former was not worth the latter, but I won't continue letting them see my cry. I wipe my tears away and put on what I hope looks like a warrior face.

"Not a problem," I hiss out. "A little thing like this won't stop me. I laugh at the attempt upon my life, what little of an attempt it was."

I must be coming off as a totally smug bitch, but if it keeps the sponsor's eyes on me then so be it. I've already killed a girl, what does reputation matter at this point? Quite simply, it doesn't.

But as I march along, I cannot help but recall something I learnt from Rammy, something rather vital.

He wasn't the one who killed Rue, and I don't see why he'd lie over it when he seemed so sure he could kill me. If it wasn't him then who else was it, exactly? Though, does it matter when most of those left are bigger than I am?

Maybe they're still in the area!

I run onwards once again, and I don't let myself stop. I refuse to stop for a rest even once!

Though, my body makes the choice for me. Stumping along weakly I eventually fall over into a large bush. Everything goes dark after a few moments, sleep claiming me from the waking world once more...

---

(Time goes by...)

---

Morning light reaches my eyes as wake up, letting out a cry from the blinding rays. It's only a moment before my eyes adjust and I start looking around me. I'm laying back in a bush, like I'd fallen right into it - and thinking about it, that's exactly what happened - and it seems like a sunny day. Only thin rainclouds that don't stop the sunshine. Although, this has me gagging as the swamp odour hits my nostrils.

Ewwwwwww! Ick! Yuck, yuck, yuck!

I gag, coughing as bit as I writhe around in the bush. Somebody get the swamp smell away from me! It's gross!

Fortunately, or perhaps not so much really, the pain from the axe wound quickly distracts me from the smell. The wound isn't bleeding anymore, but it's certainly sore and full of searing discomfort. I can only hope that I patched it up properly. If I lose the use of one of my arms then, in a word, I am fucked.

It's about this time that I realise that I'm not alone. Standing over me, a little taken aback that I just woke up now of all times, is Katniss. The girl on fire, herself. Though, her flame certainly appears to be doused now. She's looking wet, grumpy and certainly not anything like she seemed at the interviews. Then again, most of us had to force a smile of some sort.

"Hello Katniss," I say, trying to sit up. I fail, falling backwards into the bush again. Nuts, not a good impression.

I don't miss the knife in her hand.

"Hi..." she says, slowly. She's analysing me, no doubt sizing up if I'm a threat or not. If she gets a good look at my shoulder then she'll know I'm not. Of cruse, that'd make me one easy tribute to stab. "Are you stuck?"

"Of course not," I say, huffing. I'm actually not sure if I am or not, but there's no way I would tell her if I was. "I just had no better places to spend the night."

Katniss idly points to a cave nearby. I must have missed it when I was running along, scared and exhausted out of my mind. I bet the nation is laughing at me right now, or at least the Capitol probably is. Seven too, perhaps.

"There was a snake in there, and I didn't want to risk getting too close," I say, shrugging. I try to scramble up to my feet. "Anyway, my name is Nettle. Nice to meet you face to face Katniss."

"Is it really?" she asks me. "I scored an eleven, outshone you all... we've never even spoken before now. I also have a knife. How is it a good thing to be meeting me?"

I cross my arms. I make sure that she won't miss the hatchet I've got in my hand. It seems like a few drops of my blood have gotten onto it... but you know what, if Katniss thinks the blood belongs to somebody else then who would I be to stop her? If I can use words and subtle actions to make myself appear as somebody to avoid, it would only help.

"I don't particular like being alone," is my answer. A bit of a lie, but she doesn't need to know that. "Perhaps our morning might go better if we work as a team?"

She gives me one hell of a guarded look. Firm, intimidating and one big fire in her eyes. I daresay that diplomacy is not going to be easy when it comes to the girl on fire. Although, she's not attacking me yet... so, I have a chance to end this better than things went with Rammy.

"Seriously, there are crocodile mutts in the water," I warn her. "Rammy - boy from Ten - was also in the area last night. He has a big axe. I only just fended him off."

Again, a lie, but she has no way of disproving what I am saying. That is... unless she was in the area as well. Nuts! Though, I cannot say that I believe Katniss was the one who killed Rue. I think I saw Katniss look at her fondly a few times back in training. Quite unlike the Careers. Still, the more I lie like this the more confident I find myself becoming in my words.

Father told me growing up that a leader's biggest weapon isn't his staff, guns or army but the words he uses. After all, he needs words to have the former three in almost all circumstances. I have no army, or staff or even a small pistol... but, maybe if I don't tell too many risky lies I could talk my way to a better position as the days go by. Perhaps misdirect people off the trail.

Many of the most powerful people in Panem and from before it relied on their words. Even President Snow himself does. So then, if being 'weak' is what has gotten me stuck with a lack of aid, then using the right words may be the one thing I can do to get me where I need to be.

Home.

Though I cannot help but ponder the District motto; axe no questions, tell no lies. The latter part is certainly something I am not adhering too. Then again, this is the Arena. It's no substitute for District Seven.

"Anyway," I say, gaining Katniss' attention back on me. "It's not like we're alone in the area. Rammy's not the only person who has been around here."

Assuming I'm correct that Katniss did not kill Rue and that Rammy was telling the truth as well, then this part isn't a lie. I guess Katniss can see it in my eyes that I'm being honest as she glances around quickly, frowning.

"Who else was near?" she asks me.

"Girl from One. Glimmer," I tell her. I saw her too, so it's not a lie pre-say. I'm just withholding the fact 'near' means 'miles away' in this current situation. "She was alone. But, the other Careers might be nearby. Them and their new addition too."

"Peeta? Yeah, I saw," Katniss frowns, the betrayal in her eyes clear. "Why would he work with them? He told me right before the Games that if we was gonna die, he wanted to still be himself. So... what is his real self? Working with the Careers? The feelings he claimed to have for me?"

I can't help feeling very uncomfortable all of a sudden. I heard what he said, how it was all an act and he was just trying to benefit himself. No doubt telling Katniss this would make her angry. Angry enough to kill? It's a possibility. Then again, it also makes her anger become focused upon Peeta. So much that she might forget me as a target.

"You know something," Katniss says. She takes a small step forwards, right as I take a step back. "What do you know?"

Any tiny desire I may have had to remain silent is gone the instant I glance at that knife of hers. Sharp, serrated... not something I want stuck in my gut.

"At the Bloodbath I faked being dead. I tripped, and then just lay there for hours. The Career didn't know I was alive," I say, starting to pace around. "Off-topic for a moment, is the Cornucopia even above water right now? Because if not-."

"Stay on topic," Katniss says, her eyes aflame. The fact she has that look and doesn't even raise her voice... brrrrr, creepy. "What do you know about Peeta?"

"He came back a while after the dust settled," I say, quickly and more than a tad fearfully. "He pledged his allegiance to the Careers. He mentioned how he faked everything he said and just wanted extra sponsors for himself. Peeta even said he knew how you 'act and think', and that he knows your snares, tracks and where you'd go in a forest. The Careers didn't seem to trust him much, but now that Clove's dead he just become more valuable to them... they need numbers, plain and simple."

Katniss' face is turning red, much like the shade of the tomatoes I love having in salads back home. It's honestly a scary sight, but fortunately for me I'm not the target of her anger right now. No, there's one boy and one boy only who she has angry eyes for. Peeta Mellark, the rat from Twelve.

"If you want a further pointer, that way leads to dry land," I tell her, pointing over-yonder to where I was last night. "No chance of drowning, yet, but you might have to contend with Rammy if he's in the area."

"I'll take my chances going this way," she says, backing away from me. Her eyes don't leave me for even a moment. "...Thanks for telling me about all of this. That lying, rotten... I'll deal with it."

She continues to back away, looking ready to start sprinting at any moment.

"Heads up," she tells me. "There have been Mud Mutts in the area. Be careful."

Wait, what?! I don't get a chance to press her for more details though She's already speeding off over a hill, ignoring my yells for more information. Yep... she's gone.

Great. Just great. Deep water, foul smells, crocodiles... and now literal Mud Mutts. The very thought has my skin crawling and shiver sent right up my spine. As disgusting as they are sure to be lethal, so... extremely. I sure hope I shan't be seeing one of them any time soon.

Well, I'm alone once again. As many a Hunger Games viewer, be they Capitol or District, could tell you... staying in one place all alone for too long is rarely a good idea. I set off in a direction separate from both Katniss and the area Rammy was lurking around last night. I have no idea where I'm going, but with luck perhaps it'll be forwards?

I just pray to the tree gods it won't be forwards to my death.

"Focus Nettle, focus," I tell myself, firm. "Just concentrate on yourself and on gathering some supplies to make a boat."

I squeal, cheering when I hear a sonar coming down towards me. Yes! Yes! Finally, somebody has been impressed by me and paid out for my extended life. Not a moment too soon. I'm quickly jogging towards the parachute as it comes down.

Seeing only a note attached to it I slow my run to a more sulky walk until the parachute is low enough for me to grab the note.

-Tribute

Why didn't you throw the hatchet at her when her back was turned? It'd be an easy kill. Take every opportunity you get.

Johanna-

"Oh, so now you're starting to give me some advice on what to do?" I ask to the sky. "Maybe you could've tried doing that before I got put in here? I'm learning all of this on an hour by hour basic Johanna; if you have a problem you should've actually been a halfway decent mentor you tree schmuck!"

I'm only walking for half a minute before another parachute containing a note descends towards me.

-Walking corpse

Bite me.

Johanna.-

"Nice try, but the last time a tribute committed cannibalism he got killed by an avalanche," I say, dry as can be.

I might be many things, but a female Titus is certainly not among them. Certainly not.

---

(Later...)

---

It feels good having found some dry land at last, as I've not seen any of the flooded lakes that were once forests in some time now. It's still damp, of course, but there odds of drowning around here are an ever so nice zero. With the dull sunshine, crisp morning air and the gentle bird calls above the trees it could almost be considering a typical sort of morning in District Seven.

The scent of blood from my shoulder wound shatters the hopeful illusion.

It's a hilltop that I stand upon, one wide and steep. From here I have a great view of the surrounding area. Just a big field, really. Tall grass, a few fallen trees and a big patch of mud nearby to where I am standing. Nothing special really; a good place to rest for a few minutes and catch my breathe.

I sit down, using my backpack as a cushion of sorts. Munching on some meat and drinking water I think over what my next plan will be. I'm nowhere near water now, so a boat will not really be something I should spend time making. The rain's still stopped, for now, so it won't flood into this area for a while.

I had wanted to find Wood, but he could be anywhere right now. I have no idea what his strategy for these Games was going to be. I don't really know him at all; just that he's seventeen, has 5-1 odds, scored an 8, has a knack for spears and is pretty decent with building structures, or so he claimed. Good things for an ally, and he does have a lot of District Pride... but now it's day four and half of us are dead. Would the chance of being allies even be open anymore? Honestly, this year very few people outside the Careers seemed receptive to alliances.

Just my luck, really.

...Looking at the clouds, I just know the rain is gonna be back soon enough. Maybe the best plan would be to make it to the highest point of the Arena and set up some kind of a fortress. Then either hope nobody can reach me before the water claims them, or... pick them off when I have the high-ground.

I'm not an experienced builder, but no better time to start. Looking around, I can see that the high-ground lays beyond the open field in front of me. Just a jog across it and into those trees, and then miles beyond will be my destination. My legs feel less bothered by al the walking and running now, a surefire sign I am getting stronger, so I honestly feel ready for the trek.

I've not taken four steps before I freeze and duck down as low as I can. I'm not out of sight, but maybe if they do not look this way then I will be left alone.

The Career boys are charging through the clearing, laughing and cheering. Their howls of delight are ferocious and certainly fearsome. I don't move a muscle as I watch Marvel and Cato run by. Peeta bring up the rear, silent but nonetheless keeping pace. I can't help narrow my eyes at him, the boy who faked love and sold out his District Partner. For shame, Peeta Mellark...

I feel sick, but it's not due to the Careers running by. Rather, it's from what they are surely about to do. They're not alone in their run after all. One of the younger tributes is fleeing for her life from them, but it seems the boys are closing in on her. Based on the colour of her jacket, she's the girl from Eight. What was her name again? Lace? Something like that, I am sure of it.

"Go away! Go away! Go away!" she yells.

"Like the first thousand times, the answer is no!" Cato yells, looking just as smug as he is strong. "Time to die Eight!"

"Save some for me Cato!" Marvel adds, looking even more excited. "I take her left side, you take her right?"

"Sounds fair," Cato says. "Keep up Twelve!"

Peeta says nothing. From here, I just see him give a quick nod and speed up. It certainly will not be long until Lace is caught and butchered. She's only thirteen at the most, this is wrong!

Yet, what right do I have to speak out against this? I'm not gonna save her; facing off against two careers and another boy stronger than I am is a suicide move. I can only stay still.

Actually, I'll just leave. There's no reason for me to stay here. I'll leave, wait for the cannon, give them half an hour to move on and then get back on my way through the area.

"How about this?" I hear Marvel taunt the poor girl. "Toss us all your gear and we'll let you have a half minute head start over us before we continue. You'll live a bit longer that way; that ok curly? Ha!"

"As a matter of fact... it isn't!" Lace, I think, yells. For being in such a terrifying chase, she still has it in her to be almost... sassy.

The smack that sounds through the area has me quickly look back to see what just happened.

Cato laughs, clapping his hands while Peeta is still silent. Seems like Lace just threw a packet of some kind of food right at Marvel's face, and with quite some force too.

"Aaarrrrggghhh!" the boy from One yells, whether from pain or anger though it's hard to tell.

"Aha! I curse Panemese fish on you!" Lace yells, quickly scampering off once more.

Marvel hurls the packet aside. I cannot quite see his expression over here, but if I had to guess... his eyes would be flaming in anger.

"Oh, you'll pay for that Eight!" he yells, ready to take aim with his spear at the retreating youth from Eight.

He throws the spear. It seems unlucky at first that Lace trips, but as the spear sails over her and pins into the dirt it seems that perhaps it was good luck after all. She yanks the spear from the dirt and continues to flee. By now Cato is doubling over in laugher. Surely he'd be screaming if he missed a kill like that, but to see another Career be embarrassed and then miss seems to be his idea of a good show. It's true, schadenfreude is said to be one of the greatest sources of amusement. Indeed, I have to put a hand over my mouth to stop the giggles as I turn to leave.

That's when I see I am very much not alone.

Nuts!

I don't know when it happened or how I was so foolish to not hear the damn thing coming, but lurching out of the mud pit and starting to loom over me is a beats I can only describe as some sort of thing! It's hideous! A blob man of sorts, mud all over it and two featureless limbs that end in solid muddy spheres.

What was it Katniss said? Mud Mutts! And this must be one of them... no, no, no! Dirty, ferocious and rancid all in one horrific, muddy combination. A true nightmare!

I'm outta here! I'm not letting this thing touch me; whether I get covered in mud or blood it's all horrible!

The monster roars a horrible, guttural groan out that surely can be heard for miles. It sounds just like somebody choking on mud.

"Look! There she is!" oh nuts...

One look tells me all I need to know. The Careers and Peeta are making their way over to me right now. Their yells have distracted the Mud Mutt for a few moments, and I waste no time turning around to run away.

I'm not afraid to fight. I'm not. But there's a time to fight, and there is a time to run away. Right now, this is one of the latter times. Fight smarter, not harder.

I'm making fast progress towards a large area of waist high grass. If i can just jump in there before the Careers make it past the Mud Mutt then I could hide silently until they're gone. I force myself to run faster than I ever have in my life.

"Don't worry Ranger, they're not going to catch me," I say as I sprint along, feeling the air against my face. "I'll hide, just like when we played hide and seek as kids. Remember when I hid in that bush and nobody could find me because I was so small? I'll do that now. I'll come home, and we'll make more memories."

I hope he is watching and heard that. Having somebody who loves you and would cheer you on all the way certainly makes it easier to maintain hope and rational thought in this kind of an extreme situation.

The monster howls in agony, a thud echoing a moment later. I can hear Cato's cheers of triumph at what must have been his kill. I hear running, but none of the usual shouts and jeers that the Careers are known for. I'm almost there! Just a quick dive right into the grass and I'll be safe, for now. Just a few more-ACK!

I'm sent crashing to the ground with force, enough to blur my vision for a few moments. I see stars, and after somebody bashes my head against the ground twice I see a whole lot more of them. I scream and shout, squirming around and trying to hit back at whoever is upon me. A punch to my spine has me reduced to a quiet whimper.

The slap to my posterior has me elevated to a horrified screech, thrashing about. As I swing my fist back I feel it connect with something, or rather someone. The pained yell is music to my ears, though it's not worth the additional punch to my back. I yell as I'm suddenly grabbed and held upside-down, thrown over to the ground in a daze upon my side.

Looking up I see Marvel looking down at me, smirking. I cannot miss the sadistic glee in his eyes, nor how satisfied he is now that he has me at his knees. The anger is also unable to be overlooked, nor is the bruise on his cheek where I must have punched him. Walking up beside him are Cato and Peeta. Cato crosses his arms - much more muscular and frightening up close - and gives me a cold smirk. Peeta just looks at me, his gaze not betraying any sort of emotion.

I look up at them, trying to not show any fear. If they think I'm fearless, maybe they'll hear me out. They have no idea it was me that killed Clove. As long as they do not know this, they might be able to be reasoned with.

"You lost, Seven?" Marvel asks, cocky. "This is the woods where danger lurks, not your fancy house."

"Mind explaining why you got rid of all our best stuff?" Cato asks, scowling. "Yeah, nice trick and all, but not so great when it fucks over the early days for us. You're either incredibly brave, or very foolish to try a stunt like that. I'd almost respect your raw nerve if you hadn't gotten rid of my swords and a lot of meat."

The Career boys step closer, eyes alight like predators. Peeta just stand silent as ever. I give him a look, but he avoids my eyes.

"I just did the best thing for me in the situation I was in," I say, fighting with all I've got to keep my voice steady. "You don't know how to forage for food, so I tried to... make the odds in my favour."

How can I get out of this?! I frantically think over options Fighting is impossible, I cannot run, any bribe would fail as they can just take my stuff if they kill me which would be easy for them... I'll have to try diplomacy once again.

I look Marvel in the eye as he walks right up to me, barely a foot away from me.

"We can negotiate," I offer.

Pain explodes throughout my as Marvel's foot swings at my head. Everything soon becomes distant, silent and... very... dark...

...

---

(Time passes...)

---

Throbbing.

My head...

Everything is dark, the blurry kind of darkness specifically. Like I can see something yet nothing. I feel so achy and... and I cannot move. I'm stuck! I freeze, remembering what happened when I was last awake.

I got caught my the Careers. I recall Marvel knocked me out with a foot to my head.

I'm alive. Somehow, they didn't kill me. Ok, there's a still a chance then, so long as I remain alive in this world. Though, what's going on? How am I going to make it out of this mess, whatever the mess actually is.

I keep myself completely still, laid over upon my side. The ground is damp, probably mud, and smells rancid. But I'll take that over being dead any day. I can also tell that I am not alone right now. I can hear voices and some footsteps moving around nearby, though mercifully they're further away than just a few inches. Maybe they won't strike me if they think I am still knocked out.

I discreetly flick a finger to whatever is binding me, trying to figure out what it is in the nanosecond I allow for myself. The lack of yelling shows they didn't notice this, but also the touch has my heart sinking. I know what this is.

Rope.

They must have tied me up with the rope that I stole from Rammy! Of all the cruel, twisted, ironic... ok, how am I going to get out of this. Think, Nettle, think. Think, and listen. Learn.

"So, she's not back yet?" I hear Marvel say.

"Nope. Must be stuck out there because of all the floods. Can Glimmer even swim?" Cato asks, sounding unsure either way.

"Of course she can. We had a few dates at the solid gold lake when we used to date," Marvel says, sounding annoyed. "She's not that weak, man."

"I never said she was," Cato grunts. "I just... wait, hang on, what the fuck? Solid gold lake?"

"It's a great tourism spot," Marvel says. I can practically hear the smug grin he must have on his face. "It's Marvellous."

"Goddammit Marvel!" Cato snaps, groaning. I'll agree with Cato on this one, the pun was ever s stupid. "Anyway, Glimmer's probably going to be fine. At least your partner is still alive. I didn't even get to say goodbye to Clove before some freak killed her."

I hear the pain in Cato's voice. If you ask me, I think he cared about Clove a bit more than he wanted to publicly admit. I'm sure he'd be very willing to avenge her, so my lips are sealed on the fact I killed her.

"I'm sorry to hear it man," Marvel says. "She was cool."

"Yeah, she really was," Cato agrees, wistful.

I dare to take the risk of opening my eyes even if just for a moment. In the few moments I allow for myself to observe the area before I close them again one thing is clear above all else. I am in deep shit right now. More deep than the water that floods the Arena...

Not only am I tied up, but I'm now prisoner in the main camp of the Careers. I'm laid on my side in the mud which in itself is bad enough, but a hoard of supplies are placed in a big pile nearby. They have been laid upon a sort of inflatable raft, perhaps to stop them being lost if the water rises or to make transporting them easy - they must have been moved already at least once, as we're not at the Cornucopia. Maybe it's underwater by now?.

Where there is Career camp, there will also be Careers. My heart pounds. In the few moments of sight I allowed myself, I saw that Marvel and Cato are quite close to me. They sit on two crates nearby, Cato with a sword in hand and Marvel much the same except with a spear. Peeta stood nearby with a spear of his own, saying nothing. It's almost as if he hates the company of those he is allied with.

My sympathy is none, Peeta! It was your choice to sell out Katniss and join these guys.

But the worst thing? My supplies are gone! The backpack of them is right near where Marvel is sitting, and so is my hatchet and knives. I'm unarmed and without any gear!

Well, actually, I can feel myself laying upon a small object in my pocket. Clove's token, I think. Oh my goodness, if Cato had seen I had it on me, surely he'd have put two and two together...

I try not to scream.

"So, why haven't we killed her yet?" Cato asks. "I hate that rich bitch too, but it feels awkward to just have her there and not kill her or use her for something."

"What would she even do?" Marvel replies.

"I don't know, chop firewood maybe?" Cato responds. I bet he just shrugged. "Why wait until she's awake?"

"Because we're gonna torture her," Marvel says, matter-of-factly.

I almost piss myself.

Torture.

A drawn out, grisly death of many cuts and removed fingers or toes over hours. A death method first made popular by Mascara, Victor of the Forty First Hunger Games, so says father. It was the Sevens that year who she first got her hands on...

Fuck!

Ok, tied up, Careers over there and my supplies are too... there's gotta be a way out of this. Come on Nettle, think...

"Sounds fun and all, but why bother? She's not even that important to the narrative of the Games this year. It'd be a waste," Cato states, skeptical. "Leave it for Katniss."

"We can do that too," Marvel assures him. "But I promised her I'd cut her up, and I keep my promises. Besides, bro, she threw loads of our stuff into the lake. I want some payback on that. The audience would love it."

"Fair enough," Cato replies. "Have her to yourself, so long as I get one stab in. But Katniss is mine."

"Be my guest," Marvel says. "You talk about her a lot y'know. Why, one could even say you have a marvellous crush on her."

"Oh piss off," Cato scoffs. "You're the one who said she had nice hair."

"Doesn't mean I like her," Marvel replies. He chuckles for a moment. "Honestly, real talk, I found Tamora attractive. She was hot."

"You have a strange taste in woman," Cato says, lost. "She was tiny as that one over there, and kinda hefty."

"Eh, I thought she was marvellous," Marvel snickers. "Not enough to distract me from winning, but... well, I'm a man and all that."

"Allegedly," Cato snorts. "Ok, we've gotten sidetracked enough, might as well get started. Twelve."

"Yeah?" Peeta asks. Hmm, for a few moments I forgot he was there.

"Wake her up," Cato tells him. "Slap her across the face or something."

"Why can't you just stab her while she's out of it?" Peeta asks. He sounds very uncomfortable. "Same end result, efficient and... honesty, torture just isn't my style."

I hear the sound of a punch and Peeta grunting.

"Get to it!" Cato barks.

"Easy there Cato," Marvel says. "He's an Outlier. Not really like you can expect him to have the same mindset for the Arena."

"I guess. Still pisses me off that he won't take it seriously," Cato mutters.

"Oh, same. Just saying you can't expect a Twelve of all tributes to have the same tactics as a One or Two," Marvel says. "Better him than a Seven though."

I'd rather not get slapped. Needless pain since I'm going to have to 'wake up' either way at this point. I put on a little show of stirring and groaning, opening up my eyes. Peeta had been a few feet away from me, readying himself for the hit. I can tell he'd not have enjoyed it.

"Where am I?" I ask, before forcing my eyes to widen. "AAAARGGHHH! No! No! Get away from me! Help me, help!"

Now I can get a better look of the place as I frantically glance around. Cato and Marvel rise, moving closer with matching smirks. Seems that we're in a glade in the forest, possibly the only clearing for quite a distance. Plenty of thick trees that I could run for and hide in. I'm not expert climber, but under pressure I'm sure I could force myself to do it.

But the fact is, I am tied up. I doubt they'd untie me to make it 'moire interesting'. They're arrogant, but not stupid. Then again, they didn't bother to count the number of bodies to the number of cannons which indirectly led to Clove's death at my hands.

I try to keep myself together as Marvel walks up, looking me in the eye.

"Hi," he says, smirking.

"...Hi?" I respond, unsure where this is heading.

I need to keep him talking. I'm running out of time! The second he becomes bored, I'll die because that's when the torture starts.

Come on, think Nettle! Use your words, you them better than you ever have before!

"Must be nice having both yourself and Glimmer in the top half," I say after a moment. "Seems like a good year for One."

"It's gonna be our year," Marvel says proudly. "I'm sure Seven will like having one of their tributes in the top eleven. The male, that is."

He leers, taking a kukri knife from his pocket. Shit, it's got blood on it already. More talking, now!

"So, you're gonna kill me?" I say, trying to be calm. I fail.

"And cut you," he says.

"Gives the audience a show to enjoy," Cato says from his spot a few steps back from Marvel.

"I've seen torture, it's nothing to smile about," I say, shivering. I imagine horrible things like mud, grime, slugs and slime to make myself feel like being sick. "It's horrible."

Seems like my forced sickliness worked as Cato seems curious now.

"You have seen torture?" he asks me. "Oh, this I gotta hear. What kind of torture? Stubbing a toe at home? Seeing lumberjacks get splinters?"

"No, worse... and more recent," I say, gulping. I imagine the thought of Marvel cutting off my fingers, slowly and painfully, to get myself suitable horrified. "I saw Clove die."

Cato is deadly silent. He storms forwards and drops down to his knees, looking me in the eyes.

"Tell me how he died," he says in a deadly whisper. "Who did it? Tell me, now."

"It was Rammy," I choke out. "He... he... he cut off all her limbs with an axe!"

I again think of all kinds of bugs and grime, making myself so sick I puke.

"It was horrific," I shiver. "He almost got me too when I tried to flee the area, hence my shoulder wound. He's one beast of a boy."

I bet District Ten must hate me for the lies I'm telling right now, especially Rammy's family. He's killed, but he doesn't seem the kind who would torture somebody... I think? I don't know him, actually, so can I say so for certain? Indeed not. I can't regret it though, not when it's my only chance. But Cato's face is turning red from what I have said. I... I think he believes me.

"That fucking bastard!" he screams, roaring in frustration. He begins smashing up the crates with his sword, his face red as his jacket "I'll kill him! I'll slaughter him like a pig!"

"Cato, calm down!" Marvel says, turning his attention away from me to stop Cato destroying the camp.

Peeta looks at me and then at the Career boys. He frowns to himself.

"What a mess," I hear him whisper. "Sure hope Katniss is doing better than all this."

...Wait, what? Why would he care about Katniss after selling her out like he did? If he's starting to care, it might be a bit too late for it at this point. Katniss saw him with the Careers after all, and she certainly didn't like what I told her of this boy.

Is he lying about not caring about her, or is he lying even now, whether to himself or the audience? Not only is this a forest of death, but one of many lies.

I quickly struggle against my bindings, but I only succeed in making them ever so slightly looser. So little it's hard to even notice. No weapons lay near me, but as I end up rolling over for a moment I feel something in my boot.

The knife I'd had under my pant leg and near my ankle, it's still there! They must have not checked there. Oh thank heavens, yes! I can use that to cut the ropes, just as long as I can loosen them a little bit more.

I struggle about in the mud, writhing like a bug. I don't free myself before the Careers return, Cato calmer but still very pissed off. My binds are looser though. Almost...

"Sorry about that little interruption," Marvel says, giving Cato a look. "Two's, what are they feeding them these days, right?"

"...Food?" I guess.

Marvel actually snickers, finding my answer funny. Cato rolls his eyes, scowling as he crosses his arms. Peeta just looks like he wishes he was anywhere but here. I hear him mutter something to himself, but it's unintelligible from here.

But, that don't know that.

"Cato, Peeta just called you a raging child," I say, meekly.

Cato turns to look at Peeta, coldly. Peeta, meanwhile, gives me a sharp look.

"I didn't say that!" he hisses.

"Then what did you say?" I ask him. "You didn't seem happy with your friends."

"Like I said, torture isn't my thing," he says, his gaze darting between myself and Cato. "It's not something every Career does either. It's no issue."

"He has a point," Marvel shrugs. "More for us, Cato... not that there us much. She's tiny."

"You said you liked Tamora and she was tiny," Cato states.

"She was thicc," Marvel says, smirking goofily.

Cato shakes his head, glancing at me in resignation. But he still seems very angry, quite a ways from being able to calm down. I can use that.

"I saw Katniss earlier today," I say. This much is the truth, by itself.

Marvel and Cato pause.

"I'll make it hurt slightly less if you tell us where," Marvel offers. "This guy, eh, he's not led us right to her just yet."

"Probably miles away by now. But you know, she said she saw Peeta was with you lot," I say, trying to not blink too much. It's a sign of weakness, one I do not wish to give away. "Seems she saw you, and you guys went right past her. Tough break."

"What?!" Cato was angry before, but now he's steaming. "We were so close and... and we missed her?!"

Cato rounds on Peeta, closing the gap between them.

"Mind explaining that?" he asks, frowning. "You said you'd lead her to us, and we missed her. How could you made a mistake like that? Huh?!"

"It's a big forest," Peeta says, firmly. "I've been here for only a few days. It's hard enough to navigate through it, let alone find a specific person really fast. It's also a swamp now, not a plain forest."

"So, you're useless to us?" Cato asks.

I see the flicker of fear in Peeta's eyes. Cato is angry, Peeta is scared, Marvel is looking between them uncertainly... time to drive a wedge in this group. Them or me, and it won't be me!

Take notes Johanna, this is how you play the Games when you cannot use brutality to do the job. I'm not like you, but that doesn't mean I'm helpless.

"She said you guys went right under the tree she was hiding in," I say, struggling a bit. Yes, they're getting a little looser! "Please, let me go!"

Cato growls like a bull at Peeta.

"You idiot," Cato says, deadly serious.

"The water washed away the evidence she was there," Peeta says, taking a step back. "Anybody could've made the mistake."

"We're getting distracted guys," Marvel says, looking annoyed. "We need to deal with his one."

Marvel turns to me, knife in hand. No, no, no! No! I gotta say something else, anything else! Something to light the fuse, right now!

...Of course...

"I guess you all miss Clove, right?" I say, softly.

"Yes," Cato hisses, pain in his voice.

"She was alright," Marvel says. "Didn't know her for long."

As I expected, Peeta remains silent. I guess it's a case of 'say nothing if you have nothing nice to say'. His silence helps me with what'll come next... I sure hope this shaky, improvised plan will work. It all comes down to how irrational Cato will become when he is truly furious.

"Don't you miss her Peeta?" I ask him. "She was one of your allies."

"Yeah, I do... it's very different without her being here," Peeta says.

Peeta stands calm, giving nothing away. Marvel and Cato didn't even look at him, only towards me with their weapons in hand.

Forgive me Twelve. Forgive me Seven. Forgive me mother, in Elysium beyond.

"Why did your eyes flicker like that?" I ask Peeta.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, puzzled.

"No really, your eyes flickered when you said you missed Clove," I continue, narrowing my own eyes. "Didn't you care about her?"

Cato clenches his fists.

"Easy there, big guy," Marvel says, taking a step back. Smart move.

"I only knew her for a few days. She was ok, but I didn't really know her," Peeta states, remaining calm. "Not in the way Cato did."

"Is that why you called her a filthy cow?" I ask him. "You were at camouflage, I was walking past I heard you say as much as to Katniss, back when I'd assumed you two were close. You even pointed her out."

Cato is turning red. The part about Peeta pointing to Clove is true, but Cato doesn't know that Peeta just called her strong. It seems his anger might be getting him to believe my lies.

"I didn't say that! I just called her strong, that's it!" he insists. "How's that a bad thing?"

"You insult her, you cannot even find Katniss like you promised you would..." Cato glowers, gripping his sword. "Why bother wasting time drawing it out for Nettle. Marvel, we don't even need Peeta. Kill him, kill her and we're down to ten where we have supplies and Glimmer as another ally. It'd work fine."

"You're making a mistake," Peeta says, stepping back nervously.

"Cato, calm down," Marvel says, more an order than a suggestion.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Cato barks. "If this guy is useless and spoke badly of Clove, I want him dead!"

"And who was the idiot who let him into the group?" Marvel reminds him, sighing.

"Yeah... who was it Peeta?" I ask him.

"Cato did," Peeta states, giving me a glare. "I'm onto you, you're trying-."

"Cato, he just implied you're an idiot," I say to the raging Career. He really should look into some anger management classes if I die regardless and he ends up as the Victor. It's concerning. "You gonna take that? Would Clove?"

Cato loses it.

With a roar of fury he barrels at Peeta, punching him down and starts to wail on him like a madman. Peeta fights back, swiftly giving Cato a bloody nose, but it's clear he's losing badly right now.

"Cato! Stop it! Jesus Christ, don't make us lose another member of the pack, man! You're killing me here, Cato!" Marvel yells, frantic as he tries to pull Cato off of Peeta. "Stop it!"

...Who is Jesus Christ? I've never heard that name spoken in Seven...

I writhe and struggle, squirming madly. Cato's in a complete and utter fit of rage. It's a great distraction, but not one I can restart once it's over, whether he calms down or Marvel knocks him out. If I am going to escape, it has to be now!

I'm just lucky that I am effective when using my words. I'm also lucky they did not take away the knife by my ankle. It takes a lot of fast wriggling around but the bonds loosen enough for me to reach for the knife. Carefully I hold it between my knees with the blade facing up and start to run my bound hands up and down as fast as my burning muscles will allow. Bit by bit the rope is cut until finally, finally the rope is cut.

As they only used one length of rope it all starts to swiftly come undone and fall away after that big cut. Just as I let it fall Cato howls in greater rage, throwing Marvel off of him and throwing something else behind him. Coming to a stop at my feet is a bottle cap - looking at it, I think this might be from some kind of very cheap brand of beer known as 'Blue Orion', a popular brand in the outermost Districts so I hear. It must be Peeta's token.

I grab it up and run for my life I don't bother running to grab my backpack of supplies from where it is laying, not when the three boys, probably soon to be two, are having a rumble right beside it. I just flee towards the thickest part of the forest outside the clearing, grabbing a random bag from their pile of supplies as I run past it. I've just about made it to the woods when I hear Marvel yelling, furious.

"She's getting away!" he yells "Cato, for the love of Snow, stop being a bastard and help me kill her! Calm down!"

At that last word he chucks some water from a bottle right at Cato, no doubt to make him 'cool off' in a manner of speaking. Just as he does so the cannon fires, and Peeta lays very still on the ground beneath Cato.

The boy with the bread, beaten like dough. A beating I manipulated Cato into committing. Nuts, that's two murders now. Or, one and a half? Cato was the one to do it, so...

Screw it, I don't have time to think about that! I have to run!

The Careers scramble to pick up their weapons, the sword and spear having been dropped during the beat down. I take advantage of this time to put as much distance between myself and them as I can. A glance back, though, shows that it's not as much distance as I would have liked for it to be. They're already on their feet and chasing after me, Peeta's body left abandoned; beaten raw and bloody.

"If you have to kill anybody, kill her!" I hear Marvel yell to Cato.

"With pleasure," Cato replies. "Where you going Seven? Up a tree? You can't run away forever!"

Perhaps I cannot, but I do not intend to run forever. Just for, hopefully, a few minutes before I finally evade these two. I run between trees, through bushes, over logs in the desperate hope it'll get them off my trail. I hear a stumble every now and then but it's never one that can slow them down for more than a few moments. It's not like I end up without moments of stumbling and crashing about either.

The running has my chest burning, and my shoulder is still searing in pain. The agony is coming back. No, not now of all times...

For a moment I ponder the idea of trying to fight them, but I just as quickly forget that idea. With only a knife and a small form against their muscular warrior bodies and their sword and spear combination, I'd be slaughtered in seconds. Actually, saying it'd take seconds is being too generous.

Thunder booms throughout the sky and suddenly another downpour has begun once again. I flinch, trying to bare it. In this situation I feel so powerless.

The sound of Marvel and Cato slipping over, their curses loud and furious, gives me a feeling of hope as I push myself harder to widen the gap.

Before long I'm running wearily, starting to zigzag and shut down from the fatigue. I need food and water, but it's all gone now. I might have something in my bag, but I'm in no position to stop and check what I have with me. Not with the boys still after me.

"Just give up!" Marvel calls to me. "It's not like you really have a chance anyway!"

"Get the fuck over here or I'll rip your arm off!" Cato screams. It seems he's still in a berserk state from the truths and lies I was telling... shit.

I start to descend down a hill, yanking up my hood to keep the rain off of me. My insides feel like ice when I see I've come to a raging river.

The ice within me melts, even if just a little, when I see a fallen log that leads over the river.

Courage, Nettle.

Running to the log as fast as I can - so, not very fast - I get on and start to hobble my way to the other side. I think back to the Seven circus that father took me to when I was six years old, remembering the man who walked on that tightrope. Arms outstretched, legs close together and small steps only.

I stumble more than once, not helped by the fact that Marvel and Cato are closing in on me. The last stumble has me fall off the log, but mercifully I fall upon the other side of the river and not into it.

I know what I have to do now if I want to have any chance. With all of my body feeling ablaze I start to push the log as best as I can. Hard shoves, aggressive kicks and all the strength I have left; everything is put into moving the log. Just as Cato and Marvel run towards the other side of the river I shove the log away from its position and let it be washed away down the rough river. Gagging horribly I stumble myself behind a tree to try and catch my breathe.

After all, Marvel can throw his spears expertly. I'm not going to leave myself without any cover.

"Fuck!" Cato curses, punching a tree. "Urrgh, dammit!"

"You have to come out from there eventually," Marvel says, annoyed but not giving up. "You need food and water. And, when you come out from there... spears can be thrown, your gut is vulnerable.. do the math."

I hack and choke, gasping for air. It's a few minutes before I am able to give them any sort of response. In this time I think Cato has splintered the bark of the tree he's been punching. His fists are strong enough to kill... I guess it's a pointless statement, having seen him prove this on Peeta.

I've always thought of Marvel as my most personal of foes in this Arena, but honestly it might be Cato I need to be the most afraid of right now. He beat Peeta to death so easily, imagine the horrors he could inflict upon me if he were to get me in his grasp. I cough and choke some more just thinking about it.

"You know," I manage to say once I have some semblance of my breath back. "You've left all your supplies unguarded now that Peeta is dead. There are eight other tributes who could be stealing from you right now."

I hear Cato curse and Marvel gasp. It seems this thought has only just occurred to them. I guess they were so dedicated towards killing me that it slipped their minds. Tunnel vision, it's a killer. Potentially, a literal one.

"You got lucky!" Cato barks.

I hear the sounds of fast footsteps running off. I don't move from where I am hiding, but it's obvious that Cato has decided the supplies matter more than killing me and is off to protect them. As furious and violent as he is, he's got good sense in there.

I hear Marvel scoff, highly annoyed.

"He's right, you got lucky. I guess it matches your District's number," he says. "Run and hide for now, but enjoy the reprieve while you can. One way or the other we'll find you gain at some point, and next time we're gonna attack you before you can even talk. The lesson was learnt. So long, rival."

Despite everything that has happened, I cannot help but ask Marvel a question as he begins to leave.

"Rival?" I ask him.

I dare to peak out, seeing him look back at me with an almost dashing sort of smirk.

"It's not just a fight to the death, but also a TV show. We have our places in the narrative," he says, chuckling. "You should be happy. If you have a spot in the 'story', you might live longer. No promises though."

With that, he calls for Cato to wait up for him and runs off after his ally. It's not long before his footsteps have become too distant for me to hear anymore.

I'm all alone now, nothing here besides myself and the rainfall. I just want to pass out from exhaustion right here and now, but to do so when I'm so close to the water would be a fatal move to make. I'd probably drown when the water rises higher.

I force myself up to my feet, one little move at a time, and start to stagger off to... oh, I don't even know where. I'm too tired and freaked out to worry about stuff like basic navigation.

I'm more focused on the fact I just escaped from the Careers' den. They had me tied up and were ready to torture me. Instead, I escaped and thanks to manipulating Cato's rage issues they've now lost another member. The ultimate doom turned into an unlike victory. Though, not the one I desire most of all.

I won't get that lucky a second time.

I only make it maybe a hundred meters, if that, before everything starts to fade away as my knees sway.

"Shit, that was close," I slur.

I collapse.

---

(Time passes...)

---

It's dark again when I suddenly wake up, instantly aware of the world around me. How long was I passed out!? It... it must have been hours.

Shit, I'm out in the open and anybody could be coming near me. Thunder booms in the dark sky, rain still falling down. Not far from here I can see that the water has risen once again. The way the water is so dark in the limited moonlight, a little glimmer reflecting from it every now and then... it's spooky.

I stand myself up, looking around with my teeth gritted. This is bad, really bad. I'm soaked, hungry, thirsty, almost totally out of supplies... nuts. It's so dark; where do I go now? I can hardly see anything.

"Ok, ok... I can do this," I mutter, slapping myself. I need to force myself to focus. "Shelter, now."

Of course, in the darkness of night - especially a stormy night - it's not easy to navigate. I've never been to this part of the Arena before so everything looks so unfamiliar. If I still had the night vision glasses or even a flash-light or torch this would be a lot less terrifying.

My heart pounds as I kneel silently, perfectly still for a few moments.

Of course, the bag I swiped! Maybe it has something in it that I could use to find my way, or at least not feel every so awful. It'll be hard to see what I have though in the darkness, but maybe as my eyes adjust to the darkness I'll be able to sort of make out what I have?

It's a struggle, but in a frantic few seconds I quickly take note of what I managed to grab during my escape. Not counting the knife I had on me or the tokens of some of the dead tributes, this is all I've got now.

A lighter.

A half full bottle of water, made from a shiny and sleek sort of metal.

A single peach.

A plate.

That's it, nothing more than that tiny amount of items. It's all the gear I have from now until... whenever. It's basically nothing to go on. Nonetheless, I gulp down a big mouthful of the water, feeling instant relief. Not much, but... some.

Putting everything besides the lighter way, I flick it on to try and give myself some form of light and warmth in this horrible night.

I can't stop my scream when the lighter reveals the face of somebody almost right beside me.

The curly hair, the goldenrod yellow jacket, the slightly perky look on her face... it's the girl from Eight, no mistake. Lace, I think?

"Eep!" she squeals, quickly stumbling backwards. "I wasn't going to steal your supplies! Especially not the peach! Bye!"

She turns and starts to scramble her way off into the darkness, spear in hand, but my eyes are drawn to the bags of supplies she is carrying. Bags of food and water, maybe medical items too.

I need those, now.

"Hey, wait!" I say, getting up to chase after her.

"No!" she yells.

How ironic it is that I can evade Careers but I cannot catch up to somebody who surely can't be any older than thirteen. The most embarrassing part is how she's a good few inches taller than I am. With her longer legs and how she seems to be a lot more wide awake and alert than I am, she's quickly escaping from me. The fact she hasn't recently woken up after fainting from exhaustion - I mean, I assume she hasn't - no doubt aids her as well.

"Stop! Stop!" I yell, trying to keep up.

It's no use. Squeaking and yelping as she goes, Lace has soon vanished from my view and fled into the night along with all the supplies she had. I slow myself to a walk, and soon enough just lean against a tree.

I punch it.

"Shit," I curse. "...Ok, no time to waste dwelling on that. What can I do instead of that? Always a way..."

I suppose I could try and forage for food off of the forest itself. I think I remember more or less what was poisonous and what was safe. As for water, I have a bottle so I can try to catch the rainwater. It's just wet upon me, not poisonous.

I hear some footsteps in the darkness.

"...Lace... is that you?" I ask, starting to grip my knife. Better to be on the safe, guarded side.

More footsteps, faster ones.

Footsteps that are coming from behind me, not in front where Lace ran off to.

It's somebody else!

I don't call out or try to get a look at the person. I take off running into the darkness in a random direction, trying to get away from whoever this is. One of the Careers? Rammy? I don't care who, I'm out of here!

I dash onwards under the downpour that sprays all over the place. I hear the wet footsteps of the person chasing me down. They're not slipping at all. They must be perfectly balanced when it comes to running through a wet, flooded forest.

Lighting strikes, the crackle filling the sky and the sound making my eardrums throb. It's not enough to stop me from fleeing onwards. I narrow my eyes, a determined look on my face and leap right over a log. I make sure to grab the branch above the log, yanking it forwards before letting go.

I hear a pained yell and some cursing, but the sounds of the storm make it impossible to properly hear the noise and figure out who it is. But they're soon on the move once again, still in pursuit. Nuts!

As lighting strikes again, the Anthem starts to play. I don't spare the Anthem a glance not while I am being chased down as I am. I do spare a thought for Peeta though. He may have betrayed Katniss and sided with a pack of killers to save his own skin, but to be beaten to death with somebody's bare fists... I shudder. A nasty, raw way to die.

It's only once the Anthem ends that I spot a cave nearby. A perfect shelter from the rain, but also it would leave me cornered... but, what choice do I have? They'll see me no matter where I go.

And, I'm so tired...

It's all or nothing.

I run into the cave and soon turn to face my pursuer, knife in hand. One stab, that's all it'll really take. A stab to the throat... I swallow my dry spit, trying not to sicken myself from the thought. The time for words and manipulation is over. The time for action has arrived.

I breath fast and deep as the figure approaches me. They're only a silhouette from here, but one that I can see is holding a spear. Step by step, they approach me.

"Gee Nettle, you run fast, you know that?"

I pause, lowering my knife.

Out from the storm and into the cave walks my District Partner, Wood. He looks soaked like me, has a scar on his cheek he didn't have before the Games began and, most notably, he has a big backpack full of supplies.

Actually, no, the most notable thing I can see is that he has a spear and it's got some dried blood on it. He's taken at least one life.

"Good to see you're still hanging around," he says, chuckling. "You know, I thought you were fucked on day one. Like, fucked raw. I saw you laying there and thought to myself 'she's as dead as Pliny and Fir are' but it seems you made it out... somehow?"

"I wasn't really dead," I tell him. "Faked it."

Wood bops himself on the forehead, rolling his eyes.

"Well, why the fuck didn't I work that one out? Here I was thinking you performed some sort of ritual to give yourself a second chance or some shit," he says, leaning against the wall of the cave. "Your reason makes more sense. Anyway, killed somebody yet?"

Now I remember why I never exactly spoke to Wood a bunch at the training centre - a mistake in retrospect. He's kind of... crazy.

"...Yes," is my answer. "I don't want to talk about it."

"No fun. I was gonna go into detail about my kills and all. But, very well, guess we can put a pin in it. Or, I guess a spear. Thus spear was my murder weapon," he explains, casual as ever.

"Yeah, I gathered," I say, shivering. "...Gee Wood, you look messed up."

"We match then," he says, making a finger gun towards me. "You look like you've been given a ravaging in a hedge. Hmm, you did mentioned you have a boyfriend so-."

"Wood!" I squeal, my face burning. "Not. When. There. Are. Cameras!"

"No fun," he says again, dramatically huffing. "Anyway, glad I caught up to you. Kind of in the mood for an ally, and I get the feeling you are too."

"What makes you think that?" I ask him. "Not saying no, I'd love that. Just that I've been doing alright for myself."

"Why? Well, literally this," he says, holding up a sheet of paper. "I figured you dropped this at some point. A message from Johanna... gotta say, her calling you a walking corpse is fairly rude, you know? Nice face but can't say much for the personality."

"Careful. If you win she'll be your neighbour," I warn him, unable to hold back the giggle that formed within me.

"Same warning to you," he says, smirking.

I'm soon shivering again, unendingly.

"It's so cold..." I whisper.

"Lucky for you, I've got a fire starting kit," Wood says, smirking. "I know, I'm awesome. Anyway, I'll get a fire going. You keep an eye out for anything outside the cave and tell ol' Wood all about the shitty day you've more than likely been having. Hopefully better than my run in with that super bitch from One."

"You survived?" I cannot help but feel impressed.

"Eh, she's pretty incompetent if you ask me," Wood says, chuckling. "Anyway, details. Chop, chop."

So, as Wood gradually starts to get a wonderful, warm fire going I began to tell him about my day. But, as I tell him about how wild this day was I cannot help but make a note of two things.

First is the blood on his spear... it just feels a little nerve-wracking to share a cave with a boy so casual over killing a few tributes... no, people. Though, I have killed as well so I'm no better. Maybe we all respond to the guilt differently?

Secondly... it's strange how different Wood is now than he was at home. On the Reaping stage he was almost sobbing. On the train he was confident, smug even. It's so strange... did he try to pull a Johanna but change his mind?

Perhaps I'll never know.

But, at least I have an ally. District Seven is truly in business now!

"Anyway," Wood says after a while. "How about this... tomorrow, we go and destroy all of the Careers' supplies and cripple them from the inside out?"

I almost choke on my peach upon hearing this risky, crazy plan.

What?!

---

END OF DAY 4...

---

REMAINING TRIBUTES

Marvel (District 1 Male)

Glimmer (District 1 Female)

Cato (District 2 Male)

Gadget (District 3 Female)

Urchin (District 4 Male)

Cinder (District 5 Female)

Wood (District 7 Male)

Nettle (District 7 Female)

Lacey (District 8 Female)

Rammy (District 10 Male)

Katniss (District 12 Female)

---

THE FALLEN

12th- Peeta (District 12 Male) - Beaten relentlessly, by Cato.

13th- Rue (District 11 Female) – Spear thrown into chest, by Wood.

14th- Clove (District 2 Female) - Drowned, by Nettle.

15th- Weldar (District 3 Female) - Asphyxiated with a rope, by Rammy.

16th- Jason (District 6 Male) – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.

17th- Sparky (District 5 Male) – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.

18th- Sickle (District 9 Female) – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.

19th- Thresh (District 11 Male) – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.

20th- Marina (District 4 Female) - Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.

21st- Miller (District 9 Female) – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.

22nd- Tamora (District 6 Female) – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.

23rd- Sable (District 10 Female) – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.

24th- Callico (District 8 Male) – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.

---

TRIBUTE NOTES

Peeta: As anybody who has read the book and seen the movie will know, Peeta was never Katniss' enemy and loved her all along, joining the Career Pack as a means to try and protect her. However, key thing to note here... the audience can see everything. Nettle doesn't have that luxury, and so from her individual perspective she thought Peeta to be a rat and a bit of a fiend, hence the more negative portrayal he got in the narration which he lacked in other 74th Games stories, especially in Sickle's. Anyway, past the bias of our leading lady of this timeline, Peeta was as ever fun to write for. Smart, cunning and notably good with manipulation and charming people... but here, he didn't keep himself on the Careers good side or have an escape from them. Cato's fury from Nettle's smooth talk and one wrong response when the Career was seething led to quite the fatal beat down. A shame, but the Games don't know what mercy is...