I'm not even going to talk about how long this update has been. I'm so ridiculously sorry. I just... yeah. I just hope that some of you have stayed long enough to still want to read this.

But! It's here and that's all that matters. It's Gale's POV, full of action and much different than the other chapters. (Gale, Archer and the team assembled are on a mission in the mountains.)

Thanks for coming back and for the reviews, and I'm sorry I haven't replied but I lost track and hopefully will answer any reviews submitted for this chapter.

ENJOY!

It's the middle of the night, and dead quiet except for the slow breathing of half our group and the low conversations of the rest of us. We're camped against a cliff wall that rises up hundreds of feet, and us four that are awake only have to watch half of the area surrounding us. The forest is almost foreboding with no light, but that could be because I'm unfamiliar with it, whereas Archer beside me seems perfectly at ease.

"Is this like the forests in Twelve?" He asks me after a moment of silence. Terek, a female medic and her brother-in-law, Weston, speak in hushed tones in the background. Knowing that someone else is awake is oddly comforting.

Out of the eight assembled, I recall talking to maybe two before this not including Archer or Paxton. Terek and Weston are District 2 natives and know this terrain nearly as well as Archer does, but not quite as well considering Archer is a former peacekeeper and studied it as part of his training. Paxton knows Grings and Destera from 13; this fact incredibly reassuring since I know their training has been sufficient before the ISA. Batel is from 8, and apparently met me when I was there with Katniss during the rebellion. All I remember from that day is the makeshift hospital being bombed out. And Paylor.

"This one's more compact." I'm unsure of how to describe it since I'm not a fan. "Twelve's better."

"You know," Archer begins, shifting his legs that have been bent up supporting his knees for an hour or two, "this place just has a bad feel to it. I've only been in here once before, when I was in training to be a Peacekeeper."

"Something bad happen?" I ask, unsure of where he's headed with the conversation. It's two days in, but we've hardly had time to speak considering how closely we've been following the Keep – which we've dubbed the rogue Peacekeeper group. We've jumped ahead of them though, since there's only one path for them to take through here, which they've already carved out themselves in the past.

"It was just after you were in Eight. We saw what happened from cameras hidden in the district. Then we were ordered out here to hunt track down rebel groups that had been spotted."

That day in Eight, with the hospital collapse. Now I've thought of it twice in less than two minutes.

"I never really figured out what we were fighting for. I didn't mind my life, I knew what the Capitol was doing was wrong, but it never affected me directly, and so I never gave it a second thought. But the hospital…"

He trails off, looking into the depths of the forest as though the rest of his story is hidden in it. A pair of yellow fox eyes watch us, then turn away. "You know Paylor's oldest kid died in that?"

"Actually?" I ask, taken aback. She didn't like that she had to put everyone under that roof, but didn't seem too upset with the idea. I never would have guessed she had a kid in there.

Archer nods solemnly. "He was eight. I don't know his name. She's only mentioned him once."

"Shit." I shake my head. I probably saw the poor kid that day… Katniss probably spoke to him. Admiration for Paylor grows; she'd been so strong when it went down. She had every reason to lash out, but she remained composed.

"But I watched that roof collapse, and I'd never seen so many innocent people die all at once. It made me mad. But it didn't affect me directly enough to make me do anything about it. I saw you though; only a glimpse, and I realized that you'd do anything to make what happened right. It was common knowledge that Twelve had been bombed out among us. A guy in my troop had been a pilot… anyways, I realized that you'd seen that before, but on a larger scale."

I swallow, not daring to speak. The day still haunts me. The fire. The terror. The screaming. The helplessness, knowing there were thousands I couldn't help.

"When we were out here, I started thinking. Melaina and I, we had a thing, but Peacekeepers were restricted, as you know, and that angered me, to know I had to fight this war, where I sat on the fence, and live through it to see the bad side win in order to marry her." The restrictions he's speaking of are the basis for these Peacekeeping villages that have popped up. People from Two enrolled when they were fifteen, fully trained by twenty. Marriage and children were forbidden until five years of service had been completed. To put that into perspective, Acher wouldn't be allowed to marry Melaina until next year. Still, hundreds disobeyed the rules, fleeing to villages that were forgotten by the watchful eyes of the Capitol, and started families. Archer told us that those who ran were assumed to have been lost in the forest by the leaders, but everyone in the ranks knew the truth. Occasionally, one would be bombed out, but no one knew enough to talk about it. He was imprisoned after the rebellion, but he gave away the information to Paylor, but didn't know where they were located.

"I had this friend, who I grew up with, and I told him when we were tracking down rebels what I thought about the whole thing. He was like my brother. But he didn't hold the same views, or at least he was too petrified to talk about them. I told him I wanted to go to a village, but not one with other Peacekeepers. I wanted to go and take Melaina and marry her. I didn't mean right there and then that I would do it, but he took it as that. Instead of going down with me for being my friend, he told our captain. They saw it as me switching sides, but there was no proof so they shipped me off to the mountain compound where I could be detained and watched. As a precaution, they sent my friend too, but I never so much as looked at the bastard again."

I had known Archer was in the Nut when we destroyed it, but he wasn't in uniform, and ever since I found out he had been a Peacekeeper it puzzled me as to why he wasn't dressed as one that day. "Who was the friend?" I ask, curious if he is still alive.

"Eli Tupper."

All the information I've studied over and over and over for this mission flashes through my mind. Tupper. The name's familiar. "Tupper as in Lennox's right hand man?"

Archer nods, face emotionless. "The very same. We had each other's backs through everything. Then one day, he didn't. If we didn't have such strict orders to not shoot unless someone's lives are threatened, I'd kill him."

Tupper's on the mission too, about a mile behind us. Why both Lennox and Tupper would leave the village doesn't make sense to me considering the latter has stayed behind previously.

"He's the one that shot Katniss, you know," Archer adds, tossing a rock between his hands. "I heard him bragging that he would do it. Went fucking crazy in the mountain. The coward would've done anything to be held in high regard by our superiors."

I see his face on my eyelids as I let them fall. I'll be watching him closely now. I didn't think it possible to dislike some of these men more than I already did, but Katniss falling with the gunshot replays in my head. I thought she was dead. Gone. I thought that was it.

"Sorry," I apologize simply, nudging Archer's prosthetic hand with my knee. I could've killed him that day. I was so terrified that Katniss was dead I would've killed anybody that came as close to her as Archer was.

"If only you'd shot a bit further," Archer says with a chuckle. "If you killed Tupper, I would've joined you right there and then. But yeah, I guess he escaped somehow, and ended up with Lennox."

Lennox is a completely different story. His ranking among the Peacekeeping force was high enough to land him a position in the Capitol. I found out only recently that he was there when we got the victors out, but he was clever enough to not hang around long enough to be executed for allowing such a thing to happen. Naturally, he became the Keep's leader.

It's silent again; I suspect Terek and Weston were listening in on Archer from where they sit. Archer tosses the rock a few feet into the forest and sighs.

"Think we should switch the watch?" He asks.

I nod. Paxton and Destera, the other female with us, take mine and Archer's spots while Grings and Batel take over Terek and Weston's. It's impossible to fall asleep, my mind racing, thinking about what Archer's revealed to me. I've never heard the guy talk for so long without making a crude joke of some sort. Maybe his careless attitude covers up for the betrayal of his best friend; maybe it keeps people far enough away so he doesn't have to worry about it happening again.

A rustle of bushes awakens me. I guess I did fall asleep. It's just before dawn, the sky visible past the canopy of the forest a glowing violet shade. Archer's still asleep. Everyone else's attention is turned to the source of the noise. More than likely, it's a curious animal, like the fox last night. Destera has a pistol in hand though. I see it's unloaded; she has it only to scare whatever it is that's out there. She holds a finger to her lips and points at me to wake up Archer. Does she know something the rest of us don't? Paxton shakes his head, as she steps towards the foliage, but without making a noise he has no power to stop her. I shake Archer and he opens his eyes groggily. He moans but I cover his mouth, and then point towards Destera. All we can do is watch as she disappears, Paxton rising to follow. Archer motions towards the ground as he grabs a rifle, and we lay on our stomachs, prepared to shoot if either Paxton or Destera are harmed. They've both disappeared, and anxiety wells up inside of me. It's just an animal. The only harm that could come to us was supposed to be nature itself. We've taken every precaution to stay a safe distance from the Keep. I look at our tracker then, and see a red dot dangerously close to us. One of our spies in the village managed to attach trackers to each member of the Keep travelling. I show Archer.

"Lise, its one of them," he says lowly into a microphone on his suit. We each have earpieces and hear it, but it's meant for Destera and Paxton. "Take him down. Gag him. No one else is around."

Moments later there's a muffled yelp. The red dot had tried to run the opposite direction, but was stopped.

"Got him." It's Paxton, his breathing ragged.

A blonde man is dragged through the bush, squirming wildly. In the dim morning light it's difficult to make out his features, the blood pouring from his eyebrow doesn't help. Destera's lip is bleeding, but she wipes it away with her sleeve and kicks the man who groans against the gag.

Archer stands up, and I check the tracker again to ensure no one else is around; one dot remains two miles from the other's which haven't moved. Destera and Paxton pull the man to his knees and tilt his head back so Archer can get a better look. Paxton ties up his hands with a thin plastic string that is stronger than any metal, and it draws blood when the man resists. It's just one of Pine's many inventions we've brought along.

"Wash his face. I can't see a thing. Take off his clothes incase there's anything hidden." Archer commands, crossing his arms. Something in my eyes tells me he knows exactly who it is, and from the trace of anger in his words, I think I can hazard a guess as to who it is.

Paxton and Destera pin him while we cut away all of his clothes and he's naked saved for a tight fitting pair of underwear, revealing that nothing could be hidden in them. He has only a knife and a gun. Water is poured over his head so that any microphone he might have is damaged.

My suspicion was correct. It's Eli Tupper, soaking wet and virtually naked before us, trembling with the cold. His eyes don't leave Archer, and Archer stares at him until he looks away.

"Gale," Archer calls me over. I haven't done anything but bury the man's clothes in a pile of leaves, feeling completely useless. "Tie him to that tree over there."

I follow his finger to a tall thin fir tree that rises over a hundred of feet into the sky. It takes me a moment to realize why he's picked that tree among all of the ones surrounding us, but when I notice it, my stomach plummets. A tracker jacker nest hangs about ten feet off the ground. The Capitol never bothered taking them out of this forest after the first rebellion – the forest is crawling in them – and why would they? This forest and mountain range separates the Capitol from the rest of the country, any form of protection would have been welcome.

He's ordered me to do it because I know I'm keener than the others, and know how to avoid getting stung. I light a splint, and grab Tupper by the arm, prepared to drag him. Surprisingly, the man lets me lead him, and his head falls in defeat. I hold the splint over my head and the smoke subdues the muttations. Paxton tosses me the clear string as I blow out the fire and push Tupper to the ground. His willingness to cooperate almost makes me feel bad, but then I remember what he did to Archer, and that he tried to kill Katniss. I have to untie his hands, but somehow I know he won't try to run when I do, and so take my times to tie them uncomfortably behind the tree. My eyes travel upwards as I walk away, ensuring that I placed him under the nest. His blue eyes do as well, and when he notices they light up in panic.

"No!" Tupper says against the gag. He writhes but the tree scrapes his back and the twine digs into his abdomen where I've wrapped it around him.

"Don't move, Eli," Archer says with a grin, "you might anger them."

I haven't the slightest clue as to what Archer wants to do with the man. Leave him here? Never. He'd want to get information like he wanted me to from that spy in the hospital. The idea of torturing the man clouds my thoughts. I've never been one for that. Nobody deserves that. Archer won't torture him, he'll hold the fact that there's a nest of angry deadly wasps above Tupper as torture.

Somehow Tupper shakes the gag from his mouth, but Archer's trained his pistol on where the nest attaches to the tree.

"Archer. Don't." Tupper is panting in fear.

"Gale," Archer says again, ignoring Tupper. This doesn't feel right. None of this. We should just shoot the man in the head and move on. Archer has the final word, though. "You're going to shoot when I tell you."

I have no choice but to pull out my pistol. I don't think I'll be able to do it. This is cruel. "Archer, maybe let one of us interrogate him." I suggest.

"I'm in charge," Archer reminds me coolly. His scarred cheek is threatening even when he's laughing, but now, with his eyes set to kill, it completes the cynical impression he's setting forward. He regards Tupper again. "Don't fucking speak unless I tell you to, you slimy piece of shit."

Our prisoner is terrified. He knows he's going to die a painful death for what he did to Archer. They were eighteen then, though. Immature. It's clear to me at least that he's regretting his past actions.

"Answer me now. Where's the second village?" Archer's voice is more demanding that I've ever heard it.

"Twenty miles west of here. It's in a cave. There are all sorts of weapons, computers. Everything…" His blue eyes are wide. He's complying without hesitation.

"You haven't grown a pair since I last saw you then," Archer laughs to himself. "You'd give away your new family, just like you turned me in."

"I'm not—"

"Close your fucking mouth." Archer hisses. I begin to lower my gun.

"Archer, he's trying to help," I tell him cautiously. It evident the man wants to provide us with an advantage. He's giving us the information because he wants to, not because he's a coward.

Predictably, he ignores me. "How'd you find us?"

"I thought I saw someone a few days back. Then I was on watch. I just knew. I wanted to warn you. It's dangerous ahead. You'll be killed." I can tell from his tone that he's telling the truth. Archer's rage is blind, but there's no way to make him see. I've been around enough people who know they're about to die to determine that they don't lie in their last minutes.

"How is it dangerous?"

Tupper shakes his head, thinking quickly. Sweat is beading on his forehead even though the morning's cool. He knows he's going to die no matter what. If he didn't want to help us, he wouldn't give us information. He wants to set things as right as they can be before he dies. "Mines. Outposts so far up in trees you wouldn't notice. I can give you the coordinates of the base. If you go further Archer, you'll die. All of you." His eyes catch mine, and I know he recognizes me. "Archer, I fucked up. I know. I deserve to die. But not like this."

Archer seems to be thinking. "You're life isn't worth much anymore. You'll die however I want you to. Last question. Gale, get your gun back up." His tone is enough to make me do it. The weapon feels like lead in my hand. I can't. I won't. Part of me hopes Tupper will just fall over dead from fright so I don't have to pull my trigger. "How many men are there in total? Both here and the village?"

He doesn't ask the coordinates. We're going to keep going.

Answer slow, Tupper. I don't want to kill you.

"Ummm, two hundred maybe? He's recruiting. But there are thousands of family members. You can't just bomb the place." Tupper's eyes are darting, searching frantically for some way to escape the onslaught of tracker jackers that will kill him. There's no hope.

"I can do whatever the hell I want." Archer tells him. He doesn't look at me as he orders me to shoot. Why me? Why is he making me kill this man? He said a few hours ago he would do it if he had the chance. But no… no one gets the satisfaction of directly killing him. The tracker jackers will make it look as if nature had run its course on the man; there will be no evidence of the twine or gag remaining. "Shoot, Gale."

My hand isn't wavering. I begin to pull, pretending its Lennox in front of me. Images of the games course through my head. Glimmer… a balloon from the stings when Katniss set the nest on her. Peeta... wild and deadly from his torture. How many lives has this muttation ruined? What if they hadn't fixed Peeta? The venom from these animals would have driven him to complete irreversible madness. It ruined his life. It made the kid hate-able. It destroyed Katniss to see him like that. I can't give this man to such a fate.

"Fuck it," Archer says. I blink and his gun his out of its holster, and though it looks as though he's fired wildly, I know the bullet will hit its target; Archer's got the best shot with a gun I've ever seen.

We've taken an antidote to the venom so we're at no risk from the stings, I can't look at the hell that is being unleashed on Tupper. The nest crashes over his head, exploding into thousands of buzzing insects, furious at the destruction of their home. I turn and walk away, pushing my gun into my belt. His screams of terror and complete agony are drowned out by the incessant buzz.

Paxton gives me a nod as I bring up my head to look at him. No one but Archer would have killed Eli Tupper.

No one speaks as we pack up and move forwards. Despite collective protests, Archer tells us that it is safe to move on, and that Tupper was lying. He won't meet my eye, furious that I couldn't follow an order. This will be reported. Paylor won't let me on another mission. She warned against my mental disorder, and that I wasn't emotionally stable enough to do this. It kills me to know that she was right. I let my past and my ghosts catch up with me when it mattered most. Part of me is reveling in the fact that I didn't add another name to my list. I'd have more kills in two weeks than in two years.

Nightfall is approaching when Lennox and his men make camp. They must be wondering what happened to Tupper since they skirted around the area where his body lay. The idea of stumbling upon his disfigured body makes me cringe. We set up watch, Paxton volunteering to let me sleep and take the watch with Archer. I gladly accept, anything but eager to speak to him.

As I cozy up in the sleeping bag, a twig snapping catches my ear. Destera beside me notices. Am I doomed to never sleep? She shakes her head in disbelief.

"You're fucking kidding me," she sighs, loading her gun. The tracker shows that it's not one of the Keep.

"I'll go look," I volunteer, pulling the bag back.

I separate from the camp, pistol in one hand, my left hand on my belt ready to pull my knife. If it's a person, I might get shot. If it's an animal I might get mauled. But I can't risk it being a spy and so I approach like I would when hunting deer.

There's no more movement. I look back and see Destera watching me with observant eyes. Whatever it is knows I'm looking for it. I push the long grass aside as a clearing appears. Nothing is here… I'm standing three feet above the top of the grass and it only dances in the wind. I could venture deeper, but I'd like to sleep, even for an hour.

I move my left foot to turn back when it happens.

There's a horrible impact along my right side, and I'm hurled to the ground. The spiny mulch of needles, twigs and weeds stab into my body and then crush under my weight and whatever is on me. It's heavy, a thousand times heavier than any human could be. My pistol flies out of my grip and disappears into the ocean of grass. My ribs stab and there's the sticky sensation of blood blooming across my clothes.

Claws are on my body, ripping through the only thin protection I have against anything tearing into my skin. I manage to kick whatever is on me, and thankfully my foot lands in a sensitive area, probably near a joint and it reels just long enough for me to move. I can't see around me, the grass shielding anything from my view, and my arm is beyond broken, but I force myself to reach around for the gun. My hand catches it, and I open my mouth to call for help when the beast is descending on me again. I manage to roll at the last second, but the pressure on my wound is paralyzing and I'm less than an inch from where its mighty paws have landed. As I glance up, the molten golden eyes of a cougar meet mine; my hand painfully closes around the barrel of my gun. I stare directly into its beautiful eyes for a moment, all logic flooding from my mind. Am I supposed to look at it? Or am I supposed to back down? Moments ago I could have figured it out, but my brains a mess. Right. It should back down. Its sneak attack hasn't worked. It should be confused. Why did it even attack me? I wasn't threatening it in anyway.

Suddenly, it pushes from its hind legs, coat glossy and shimmering in the retreating sunlight. I have less than a second to grab the knife in my belt, my right arms useless as I attempt to flip my gun around, pain coursing through my bones. Somehow I manage it, and as it's dagger like claws stab through the skin of my chest I've pushed the knife into its neck. The cougar rears; releasing a roar more monstrously loud than one I've ever heard before.

It's near to falling on top of me, but I extract my knife as his warm slick blood begins pouring down my arm, and mixes with my own that begins oozing out of my chest.

With my good arm soaked, it slips as I pull myself from where the animal will collapse. My left arm isn't nearly as good a shot as my right, but I reach over and grab my pistol, aiming unsteadily at the cougar's head. I release a shot, and though it was shaky, I've hit my target. I couldn't let it suffer. The hunter inside of me wouldn't have let me be a sadist and watch it die slowly.

The gunshot sends birds out of the trees so that they silhouette as black shapes against the golden horizon in their frenzied flight. My team's already made their way into the clearing, warned by the animal's howl of torture that I was in trouble.

"Fuck," I gasp in agony. That was the stupidest thing I could've done. Now I've alerted the Peacekeepers that we're following them and are responsible for Tupper's disappearance.

It's impossible to muster the strength to sit. I attempt, but my right side feels completely broken from the impact with the animal. I prop myself up on my left arm, and take in the damage done. My clothes are now rags soaking with blood, torn slightly down the chest and completely down the right side. Pain pulses in the center of the claw wounds. Tentatively, I attempt to move my right arm, but the throb of pain tells me that it's dislocated… again.

Despite the pain, I'm incredibly grateful the beast didn't go for my limbs. I can at least heal this back up, but if it had decided to go after my arm, I'd either be dead or matching Archer.

Paxton is the first person to emerge from the rustle of grass that grows closer and closer. He notices the fallen mountain lion first, and his blue eyes grow wide. Then he follows the small train of blood that feeds into the growing pool that I lay in. He bends down and begins tearing at my jacket. I swear loudly as he wrenches the entire things off. I look down at my chest and gawk at the amount of blood pouring from the half an inch deep, inch long puncture wound.

"Mother of..." Paxton says, presses my town shirt against my chest, the right side protesting in pain. "How are you alive?"

I laugh wearily, but the action sends stabbing through my ribs. My body feels like it's on fire. I hold my right side with my left hand though the pressure sends fissures of pain through my ribs. My hand is so slick with the scarlet liquid that if keeps slipping down.

"Karis!" Paxton calls.

Destera and Terek appear above me, eyes wide in shock. Destera shakes her head. "Shit."

Terek takes over pressuring my right ribs and I take to relocating my shoulder. Paxton helps me push it back into place. I let out a grunt of anguish, gasping. I can't count how many times I've dislocated that shoulder, but I know from the numbness that fills it, I've shattered it too, the bone fragments slicing through nerves.

Archer is last to arrive, and I assume the other three are staying at the camp, guns ready. Archer's face has softened from this morning, and as he treads through the two pools of blood that have joined he lets out a hearty laugh. A fucking laugh of all things. "What the hell, Gale?"

I close my eyes and let my head fall against the chilled ground

"Of all the people, you get mauled by a cougar," he lets out another disbelieving laugh.

"Your ribs are broken," Terek acknowledges after she's staunched most of the light bleeding along them. "And your right arm is completely shattered.

"Thanks," I say somewhat rudely. "I couldn't feel that."

Archer hands me a canteen of water and I manage a few sips; the discomfort of swallowing it is enormous. Somehow, I'm always incredibly thirsty after I lose too much blood and I want more.

"Jo's going to kill you," Archer chuckles. Who is he? He's completely different from this morning; he doesn't even chastise me about shooting. He pours the rest if the water down my chest to clean the blood off. "If you don't die of blood loss first."

"Can you stand?" Paxton asks.

I exhale loudly, the motion causing more slicing in my ribs. "I can hardly fucking breathe."

"Try," Archer says dismissively. Our party protests, but he practically lifts me into a standing position, forgetting that the bones in my right arm have been crushed into pieces. The blood rushes from my head and my knees buckle. Vomit threatens as I collapse.

"He was mauled five minutes ago," Destera argues as Paxton and Arcger ease me down. "Let him breathe for a minute."

I shake my head. Breathing hurts too much. The nausea hasn't left and before they've released me, I turn and wretch tonight's dinner. I can't stop. The pain of my ribs as I gag only arouses more vomit. Eventually acid sears my throat and mouth. I could really use that water Archer just dumped on me.

Terek is digging in small bag and extracts a syringe. I forgot she's a medic. The pointed metal pushes into a dose of morphling and she grabs my wrist. I'm so used to some sort of painkiller being injected into my arm I hardly notice. I don't know how, but a minute later she shoos Paxton away and rolls me onto my left. There's slicing and crunching, and I know she's setting my ribs. I can't feel a thing. I'm in bliss.

On my side, I watch as Archer stands and goes to the cougar. Kneeling, he moves its head around, his hand dwarfed by the size of the creature. He pulls up the animal's lips, which hide teeth that I begin to imagine are dripping with my blood.

"I'm so impressed that you're not dead."

The morphling is working its magic, and is fogging my thoughts. "I've been mauled before," I respond as if experience with such events factor into why I'm still breathing.

Archer just grins because I'm slurring. "I don't think you've even been mauled by a cougar though."

And then the world slips away into a vast darkness.

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PS. I just put up a one shot called "Make Your Way Back Home Again", so if you're interested, check it out.