note: hi, i have got a new time table for updates, although i probably wont stick to it, i will update on Saturday and Wednesday, with maybe an very occasional extra update on another day

in this chapter i kind of did a bit of the wild dogs pov, its strange i know, and also i took a few words from wolf's lingo from chronicles of ancient darkness, its my joint favorite book with the hunger games. just to let you know, not breath means dead and long claw that flies far means bow and arrow

i probably don't sound like myself in this AN, so the truth is, i didn't like of writing this, sure i always love writng new chapters, but i hate it that peeta gets hurt and it left me feeling more than a little bit depressed, this is probably not my best chapter, but that was probably because i was sulking over the fact that peeta has to get hurt for the rest of the plot to make sense, and also to make way for some peeta/katniss moments

Peeta repeats it in his head over and over again, I am silent but I bring the storm, I am silent but I bring the storm, he keeps going while the wild dog keeps coming closer, it wild yellow eyes seemed to bore into Peetas, the creature bared its brilliant white fangs, each one had a horribly pointy end, its fur was a glossy black, and he noticed patches of red on it, at first he thought it was a weird effect of his synaesthesia, until he heard Katniss say the word "blood"

At first this reassured Peeta, if it had blood on its fur, it must have had a kill, it must have eaten, maybe then it wouldn't be so hungry and it would spare their poor lives, but then he noticed that the amount of blood was growing, and growing, until a steady stream of it flowed down the creatures side.

It was injured.

Maybe you don't know the importance of the fact that the wild dog was injured, but it proved to be very important indeed. Katniss knew why it was important, but that was expected, she was a hunter. Peeta knew why it was important, that was because he had once gone to the school library and learnt everything that his brain could possibly take in about hunting in hopes of impressing Katniss. You, though, probably don't know why it's important, so let me explain.

A round an hour back, this dog had been roaming the forest, doing what wild dogs do, trying to find the tiniest scrap of meat in the harsh winter morning when he caught a scent of something, a scent of something delicious, fresh, juicy, meaty squirrel

Lunch.

So this wild dog, like a wild dog would do, followed the scent until he came into a little clearing, he eyed the squirrel, something was wrong with it, it smelt not-breath, but he was far too hungry to care, it's not like he wouldn't eat a bit of carrion once in a while, and so he happily crunched up the squirrel in his mouth, not leaving a scrap, drinking up its blood.

The wild dog smelt something else, something that shouldn't be here.

Human.

This wild dog had seen humans in his forest before, it wasn't such a big deal, but this human smelt wrong, it smelt bad. The wild dog raised his hackles and bore his teeth, hoping to scare the bad human away, he crept closer.

A horrible pain in his rib made him whine. Blood poured out, as it drained, so did his strength, he tried licking it better, but it was no use, it only worked for small cuts he got in his pads when loping over some particularly sharp rocks. No, licking it wasn't going to help.

The dog knew the bad human had disappeared, but he lifted his muzzle and sniffed anyway, the pain in his rib when he raised himself up was almost too much for him to handle, but he caught the scent.

Human.

Gathering up all his strength, the wild dog followed the scent of the human, with every step his paws ached and the pain in his rib screamed, but he kept going, eventually, he reached another snowy clearing, and with his yellow eyes, he saw not one human but two. Two evil horrible humans, one with a pale pelt, and one with a darker one, two humans who had cut him and not even finished the kill, two humans who had left him to bleed to death, they had not cut him for food, they had simply cut him for the fun of it.

For one second, the dog doubted that it was them who cut him, they didn't smell like bad humans, in fact, they smelt like perfectly good humans to him, but then he caught sight of the long claw that flies far next to the female human.

That was all the proof he needed.

He would rip them to pieces, make them pay for what they had done, he would lap up their blood and crunch their bones, he would make sure they never hurt another poor animal again, he would force them to the floor, he would rip their muscles and snap their bones like twigs.

He would make sure they never got up.

…..

Peeta watched in horror as the wild do came closer, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Katniss shake, and shuffle a little bit more towards her bow. Like that would be any use.

This dog was injured, it was mad with pain, after it killed them; it would probably die too with blood loss. Peeta decided to try and accept the fact that he would die, he would distract the dog and Katniss would run away, safe to her family, forget about him and marry Gale Hawthorne, she might even have children. At least he would die a hero; she would tell her kids about the poor, mad, synaesthesic baker boy who saved her life once.

Shame. Just as he was getting somewhere with her.

The wild dog was around twenty paces away from them now, and Katniss had inched a few paces more towards her bow, he was in the same position as before, clutching a bramble. He found the pain helped him stay focused. The wild dog growled at him, he saw a strange black and red spiky shape coming out of its mouth and recoiled a bit, until he realised it was probably just his synaesthesia. He looked right into the dog's eye.

He growled at it.

It pounced.

What happened after was a blur, Peeta had a gash on his arm, and he had no idea where it was from, he was on the floor, the dog was gnawing away at his limbs, he felt no pain, out the corner of his eyes, he saw Katniss make a mad dash for her bow, she reached it, and picked it up, the dog looked in her direction but didn't go to her, it was preoccupied with tearing him apart. He told himself that it was a good thing, he had saved Katniss, distracted the dog so she could run, the only problem was, she wasn't running.

The dog bit his arm, it made a horrible crunching sound, pain shot up it and it went limp, Peeta let out a wrenching moan, his body felt like a sack of bloody meat, the dog scratched him on the leg with its sharp claws, Peeta screamed.

He guessed that the end was near, it had to be, he felt the world fading away, isn't that what happens when you die? Maybe he was already dead, and this was him reliving his death, he could have stayed silent, but instead, he gathered his strength and let out one rattling, haunting warning.

"Run…"

He felt the dog go limp, and opened his eyes, for what he guessed would be the last time, and found satisfaction in the fact that an arrow was sticking out of its body, Katniss would survive.

Peeta tried to be optimistic, but his eyes were drooping, he fought to keep them open, but after a while it was too much, he didn't have any fight left in him, so he let them droop.

The world went black.