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Hola! How is everyone? Not sick with H1N1 (p.s. - this is me blatantly making fun of its new name) I hope. :D Anyways, thanks for all the amazing reviews, that was the most I've ever gotten for a chapter.

Also thanks for the support for my next story. Mainly I wanted to tell people about it so that I will actually get around to writing it. Now that people are interested I'll have to finish :)

Hope you enjoy!

The bird's loud song is what finally wakes me from my fretful sleep. Yawning, I cover my mouth with my hands and sit up, surveying my surroundings.

Marvel is slumped over a boulder. He must have fallen asleep during his watch, which for him, was very stupid. If Cato woke up and saw him, he'd be in for it. My eyes quickly scan over him and turn toward the shimmering water front.

Dawn is just breaking out over the lake, and its usual pristine blue is now a mirage of fiery colors. It's a beautiful sight, and I consider waking Obel up to see, but once glance towards his sleeping form makes me change my mind.

He's resting at my side, the covers of his sleeping bag pulled up to his chin. The sun gives his face a rosy tinge, and his still boyish features look almost angelic in the light.

I find myself thinking yet again that he should not be here. This young boy, still so full of hope and innocence, does not deserve this fate. Him above all, should live and be happy, should marry and fall in love, should have kids and die old. He deserves everything—but he won't get it.

That truth crushes my soul more than anything—more than Miri's tears, and more than my mother's refusal to love me, even more than Katniss' rejection. The fact that this little boy will die before his time is nearly too much for me to handle.

I tear my gaze away from his face and stand up, forcing myself to take care of the hunger beginning to gnaw at my stomach. Weaving my way through the sleeping Careers, I grab some food and sit on one of the supply bins. The forest spans out in front of me, and I lose myself in the peaceful nature scene.

Taking a bite of an apple, my thoughts drift toward Katniss. I haven't seen her since the start of the Games, and it's strange not having her around me. After days of forced companionship, I got used to her presence, and now that I'm finally alone—I realize and miss its absence.

I wish I knew what I was doing. I wish I knew how to save her. But I have no clue—not even an inkling as to how to eliminate all the competition and leave her standing. I wish I did.

I sit there for awhile, staring into the forest, trying to come up with something—anything to get her through this, to have her win. I sit and think and strategize, but no plan formalizes. Nothing seems strong enough—reliable enough—to use with success. I don't know how long I sit there until I'm interrupted.

"What are you thinking about?" Obel's clear voice brings me from my reverie. He comes into my viewpoint and then sits beside me on the bin, following my gaze to the woods.

At my silence his eyes travel to my face, trying to decipher my expression. When he sees nothing, he nudges my shoulder with his own. "You can tell me, " he whispers quietly.

The thing is—I know I can tell him. I could tell him pretty much anything. It doesn't matter that I only met him a few days ago or that we are in a fight to the death. What matters is that I trust him, more than I have ever trusted anyone before. It's as simple as that.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" he asks gently, breaking through my thoughts.

I nod without looking at him, answering his question. I don't need to ask who he's talking about, I know and he knows that there's only one 'her' that I'd think about. I can't help but smile slightly. He already knows me too well.

"What are you going to do?" he questions.

I don't answer for some time, and he doesn't prod me to talk. He sits with a serene ease beside me, comforting me more with his silence than words ever could.

Finally, I speak. "I don't know what to do, Obel," I can hear the agony and stress seeping through my voice, and I know he hears it too.

My hands move to shield my face from his piercing gaze. I'm ashamed by my weakness, but that doesn't stop the tears from welling behind my eyes. They struggle hard to break loose and fall freely, buy I don't let them. I refuse to cry. I need to be stronger than that. Removing my hands I meet his eyes steadily.

"What don't you know?" he asks soothingly.

I take a deep breath, deciding whether or not to tell the truth. If I do tell him—the truth, I mean—than he'll know that I'm trying to plan a way for Katniss to win, which means he'll have to die.

We all have our own agenda, my thoughts urge me. He must know already that you want her to win. He's not stupid.

I decide to just tell him. Maybe he'll even help me plan. "I don't know how to save—"

We're suddenly interrupted by Cato's loud groan coming from the pile of sleeping Careers behind us.

Obel, as quick as a flash, is already up and scurrying away toward his sleeping bag, before I even have time to blink.

Cato stands yawning loudly, his arms stretching above his head. The girls are awakened by his movement and slowly start to get up themselves. Obel—the perfect actor—sits up and blinks dazedly.

Marvel jumps from his slumped position and stands up immediately. It's too late, however. Cato already saw him asleep on the job.

"What do you think you were doing?" he starts, his voice increasing in volume with every word. It's obvious Cato hates Marvel for yesterday, when the boy tried to usurp his authority. You can tell he's just waiting for an excuse to yell at him—or inflict harsher punishment.

I step in before it gets ugly. Although I don't like Marvel either, if a battle breaks out, who knows what might happen. Cato could just decide to get rid of us all, and I wouldn't stand a chance against him.

"Calm down, Cato," I say quickly. "I took over watch a couple hours ago."

Cato—still red-faced—turns toward me. He can't argue with that. It's evident that I have been awake for awhile. In an effort to have the last word he spits out, "Next time, ask me before you decide to switch up the watch schedule."

He strides toward the make-shift supply pile. "Bomb Boy, get over here."

Obel races forward without a second waisted.

"Now," Cato says, facing the rest of us. "You guys construct the pile exactly how I tell you to, while Bomb Boy, here, sets up the bombs. You all got that?"

I nod mindlessly with the others, thanking the luck that I woke up early enough to eat breakfast.

~/~/~/~

The morning temperature quickly changes to blazing heat as the sun makes its way across the sky. It's afternoon by the time Cato is fully satisfied with the death trap.

"Now, you're sure that one bomb won't set off all the others, right?" Cato asks Obel threateningly.

"Yes, sir," he replies in his fake meek voice. "I'm positive."

"You better be right," he threatens. "I don't want any idiot coming and blowing it all up."

"Well, if they do," Glimmer says. "Then they'll be blown to bits as well, which sounds fine to me." She cackles evilly and the others join in with her.

Clove picks up a sack of apples resting beside a box. "Wait, we forgot to put these somewhere. We can't just leave them here. They're easy pickings for any tribute."

"You're right," Cato says. "We could just divvy them up now and keep them in our packs."

"No," Marvel argues. "That's stupid. There's no need to keep food in our bags when we have plenty here. And I want all the room possible for weapons."

I can tell Cato agrees with Marvel, he doesn't want to waste room on food either, but his pride won't let him admit it.

"I know," Obel's quiet voice calls out. "Why don't you hang the sack on the tree? Nobody will be able to reach them there."

"That sounds like a good plan," I say, careful to mask my voice. "Let's do it."

Cato nods his head begrudgingly and throws the sack toward Obel. "You do it then, Bomb Boy."

Obel catches the burlap with a flick of his wrist and then is expertly climbing the tree beside the pile. Almost a minute later, he is already balancing on the branch above the trap, and with one hand efficiently wraps the bag around the branch, so that it hangs tantalizingly above the rest of the supplies.

Obel hops down effortlessly a second later.

Cato surveys the pile. "I think it's good," he comments. "It should knock off a few more tributes at least."

The Careers laugh raucously.

"Don't forget," Cato says, as the others start to move away. "We're going hunting again tonight. We should rest now."

Although I'm tired, I am reluctant to try to sleep. The dreams—still fresh from last night—hold me back.

"I'll take first watch," I hear myself volunteering.

Cato throws me a suspicious glance. "Alright," he agrees after a moment. "Wake me in an hour."

I nod and settle myself against a boulder, watching carefully as the Careers and Obel settle down in their sleeping bags. By the glance Obel sends me, I know he's only acting—the moment the others fall asleep, he'll join me.

I smile surreptitiously to him, silently acknowledging his unspoken words, and rest my head against the rock behind me. My eyes travel the distance of the clearing. Finding nothing suspicious, they dart to the lake, where the rippling waves capture their attention.

I wish I could just disappear into the water—just disappear and not have to face this. It'd be easy to just close my eyes and sink, sink into nothingness. Too easy. There'd be no more pain, no more heart ache, no more guilt—no more useless hoping and wishing and wanting. There'd be no more of anything.

It's pathetic and weak to want it, but I'm beyond caring at this point. Anything—anything—would be better than this. The torture of not knowing what's to happen—to Katniss, to Obel, to me—it's all too much.

How did I ever think I could handle this? How did I ever think I'd be alright? I created some false image in my head that this would be easy—that all this pain I'm going through would be worth it because she'd survive. And that would be enough. And it is still enough. It's just being here, being in the arena—no longer safe and protected in the Capitol—it's easy to loose hope. Surrounded by death, destruction, and ruthless killers; how can I be sure she'll survive?

The truth is I can't. This is a Game, and no one knows the ending. No matter how much thought and planning and sacrifice I put in, it won't matter; because it's a game, and everything is chance now.

There's a rustling behind me, and I turn to see Obel making his way steadily toward me. He stops right in front of me. "It's hot out here," he says short of breath.

I've been to focused on everything else to notice the scorching heat, but now that he mentioned it, I can feel the way my shirt sticks to my back. Even though my mind wasn't aware of the temperature, my body was.

The sun's in my eyes as I turn my face up to look at him. Squinting, I can just barely make out his eyes, but from what I can tell, he's staring at me intensely. I know he's trying to figure out how to bring up our conversation from this morning causally.

"Want to step in the lake for a bit?" he finally asks.

I glance towards the sleeping Careers, noting their state of deep unconsciousness, before agreeing.

We remain quiet as we make our way to the water front, both lost in our own little worlds.

I curl my toes into the small strip of sand at the beach's edge, enjoying the sensation. Pulling my shirt over my head, I throw it over a boulder—my pants and jacket soon joining, leaving me in my undershorts.

The sun beats down onto my bare torso causing me to sigh in pleasure. I've always loved summer—the heat, the ever present sun, and how the District so bleak in the winter, becomes alive with activity and happiness. It's always been my favorite time. I smile fondly at the memories the heat brings while kicking off my boots and socks.

The water is icy when I dip my toes in, and I can't repress the shiver that runs through my body.

Obel laughs at me, and I turn to see him already waist deep. I throw him a scowl before plunging head first into the water, splashing him with my wave. Resurfacing, I come up to see Obel spluttering and giving me a rude hand gesture.

I laugh despite myself. He splashes me, and I cough as some of the water goes down my open mouth. He laughs loudly at my surprised expression.

"You have no idea what you just started," I say mock-threateningly, before launching myself at him.

We wrestle care-free in the water for several minutes; I'm clearly the winner when he finally calls a truce. A fact I don't hesitate in telling him.

"Oh, yeah right," he says wryly. "Who was just the one crying like a baby?"

"I wasn't crying!" I shout indignantly. "You got water in my eye, how many times do I have to say it?"

"As many times as it takes for you to accept the truth."

"Oh, ha-ha," I say dryly. "Funny. Real amusing you are."

He laughs hard at my sarcasm before quieting. Gently, I ease back until I'm floating, loving the feel of the water lapping around me. My eyes scan the cloudless blue sky above me and my thoughts go back to before Obel interrupted me.

I'm ashamed of myself for even thinking of giving up—of letting go—because that would be giving the Capitol what they want, and no matter how hard this gets, I will never ever let them win like that. Never give them the satisfaction of thinking they destroyed me. When I die—because there's no doubt now—I will die proudly. I will die showing the Capitol they have lost. I won't cower or cry or be afraid—I'll stand tall and look my killer in the eye. I'll stand tall and die. Die for her. For Katniss.

Katniss. It's amazing how that one, seven-letter word can bring such a change in me. Right now, just merely thinking of her has my pulse racing and my heart thudding. Despite the heat, I feel goose bumps score my flesh and a rosy blush cover my face. I dunk underwater and shake my head, trying to banish the useless thoughts of desire running though my mind.

I come up for air to find Obel staring at me.

"What?" I ask, even though I know exactly what he wants.

"What were you saying this morning? You don't know how to do something, what is it?" he asks in a rush.

I knew this was coming. I sigh and stand up in the waist-deep water, not replying. He knows I will so he doesn't rush me. I start to make my way out of the water, and he follows. We lie down on the sand, drying our bodies with the sun.

Resting my arms behind my head, I relax into a comfortable position. My eyes look at the sky and the lake, and everything besides the boy sitting next to me.

"Peeta," he encourages quietly.

I finally turn to look at him and find his green eyes trained on my face. I can tell he just wants to help. I sigh deeply. "Do you have a plan, Obel?" I ask, determinedly refusing to answer his questions first.

He looks confused but answers anyway. "Sorta. It's not brilliant or anything, but I think it will be enough."

I nod. "That's the thing. I don't have one," I groan. "And I need one."

"Why?" he questions simply.

"Because I don't know what the hell I'm doing here. What am I going to do? How am I supposed to save—" I break off suddenly and stare firmly at the sky, refusing to meet his gaze.

There's silence for only one second.

"That's what you're doing here," he says, his eyes brightening with understanding. "That's why you're with the Careers! I understand now. You plan on saving Katniss."

I don't acknowledge what he says, but I don't dispute it.

"And you don't know how to save her, so you're upset," he draws his own conclusion.

We're silent for a few minutes, both of us lost in thought. The sun is starting to ebb away, and I know I'll have to wake Cato up soon.

As if anticipating my next words, Obel stands up and stretches. He gives his arm out for me, and I grasp it gratefully, pulling myself up beside him. I pull my shirt over my head, and give my hair another shake, trying to dry it faster.

Once dressed, we head to the sleeping Careers. I make my way to Cato while Obel adjusts his sleeping bag and slides his legs in.

"Hey, Peeta," he calls quietly.

I turn to look at him. He's still sitting up, his eyes focused intently on me, appraising my every movement.

"Yeah?" I ask, equally as quiet.

"I know you'll do it—save her, I mean. You will. I know it," his voice is so compelling and honest that I find myself starting to believe his words. But before I can question him and ask how he can be so sure, he rolls onto his side and pulls the sleeping bag over his head.

I stand there for some time, just staring at his still form, daring myself to believe him—trying to let myself believe him. I want to, but I know I can't. This is still a Game, still chance, and I mustn't ever forget that.

~/~/~/~

Cato wakes up relatively easy, all I have to do is tap his shoulder and his eyes blink open alert. He stands and swivels his head back and forth, already gripping his sword, looking for any sign of danger.

"It's your turn," I remind him, keeping my voice gruff.

He nods, running his hands over his eyes. "We'll need to wake the others soon," he says, glancing at the sky. "It's almost dark."

I meet his gaze, acknowledging his words, before turning toward my sleeping bag.

"Hold up, Lover Boy. Where do think you're going? I want to talk to you."

I roll my eyes and clench my fists, trying to suppress an angry outburst; I turn to face him. "About what?"

It's a useless question because I know the answer already. He wants information on Katniss, and truthfully, I'm surprised it has taken this long for him to bring it up.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he says. "Follow me."

And although it goes against ever fiber of my rebellious nature—I listen and follow him across the clearing until we're standing right above the cliff.

"What is this about?" I ask again.

He ignores me and instead looks out across the wide expanse of golden field below. "What do you think is out there?" he question thoughtfully, prolonging what he actually came her to find.

"Thresh," I say after a moment.

His face contorts into a scowl. He's probably still upset that Thresh escaped his attack unharmed by jumping over the steep ravine and into the field.

"Besides Thresh," he presses on.

"I don't know," I say as I look out across the field. The golden wheat is waist-high and seems almost endless. I futilely try to suppress the shiver that runs down my spine. The field is creepy. There could be anything in there. "It looks likes anything could be hidden by the field," I answer honestly.

He nods. "That's what I thought. It's too dangerous to go in at night. We'll have to search it soon, though."

I get goose bumps at the mere thought of traveling into there, but I nod nonetheless.

"Right," he says, turning to me and locking his blue eyes straight on mine. "So, Lover Boy, what's your girlfriend's secret? How did she manage that eleven?"

I retain my composure as I look across the field, my thoughts racing for a good answer.

"I don't know how she got it," I say firmly, already knowing that won't suffice.

"Bullshit. You know—now tell me, what's her secret?" he asks gruffly.

I take a deep breath, annoyed. "I'm telling you, she wouldn't tell me. I asked her, but she wouldn't tell. "

"Well, what weapon does she prefer?"

"The knife," I lie shamelessly. "That's basically the only thing she knows how to use. She's dreadful with a spear."

"A knife," he says in a disbelieving tone. "She managed an eleven with just a knife? I don't believe it."

"Well, I didn't either," I say defensively. "Like I said before, I don't know what she did, or how she did it. It doesn't make sense. Haymitch coached her separately. Who knows what they planned."

"Haymitch," he mumbles to himself, as if his name is the answer to everything. "Damn it. She could be up to anything."

I smile inwardly at my save. Haymitch—although the laughing stock of the Games—is respected, and known widely for his ingenuity, Cato knows this and so my answer seems believable.

"Alright then," Cato says. "If Haymitch trained her, then who trained you?"

"No one," I lie.

"I don't believe you."

"Why shouldn't you? He thought I was hopeless, so he didn't even bother. He just trained her because he saw potential," I contort my voice into an angry, hate-filled tone, and he seems to buy it.

"Well, I don't blame him, honestly. You are pretty useless," he says, trying to wound my pride or something.

I smile mockingly. "The boy from District Four begs to differ."

"That was luck," he replies.

"Right," I say sarcastically. "It was luck."

He turns to me, his face growing red and opens his mouth to say something.

"Cato!" Clove calls. "Shouldn't we start getting ready?"

Her shout interrupts whatever he was going to say, and instead he stares at me hard for a few seconds, before turning toward her. "Yeah, are the others up?" he asks.

I turn toward the field again and breathe a sigh of relief. Glad that's over.

For now, I can't help thinking. I know he's not done interrogating me yet. He still wants information on Katniss, so I have to be ready. Maybe I'll ask Obel for some ideas on what to tell him.

"Peeta," Calpurnia calls. "Cato and Clove are ready to set out. They want you."

I nod toward her and begin walking back to the others, trying to prepare myself for the upcoming hours. It's useless, and I already know that.

How can you prepare yourself for something like this? How can you possibly get ready to hunt down people—hunt down children?

I won't kill anyone else, I think resolutely.

I decided that last night, in between the nightmares. And I try to reassure myself now that that will stand true. That I won't kill another person. That I can't.

And although I wish with all my might that I can be certain of it. That a person won't die at my hands—I know I can't.

There is no certainty. This is the Hunger Games. And here, everything relies on chance.

A/N: So basically, the only reason this got done today was because my high school shut down. Why you ask? Swine flu. Crazy, huh? I never thought it would affect my small little town, but it has, and I'm out of school. I shouldn't be happy, but you know...

Anyways, tomorrow I'm off too, so maybe I'll write the first chapter of Fate. I just came up with the outline for it yesterday, and I'm super excited to get started.

Now, I know many of you just want to get to the cave scenes already, and believe me when I tell you so do I. I'm excited to write them. However, I thought this chapter was necessary because if you're paying attention to the real book, it's getting down to the wire here. Obel and Peeta won't have another chance to talk alone again. Tear, tear. :'( So I thought he deserved a proper goodbye.

So leave a review and cry with me while we say farewell to our dear, little Obel. Haha