Chapter 10

Boom! My eyes fly open in fright. There is nothing but darkness and silence. Boom! I jump slightly in fear. Then, all is dark and silent once more.

I look up and see Maisy sitting up in the sleeping bag, her eyes wide with fear. "It's the cannon," she says.

"How many dead?" I whisper back.

"Three."

I look at her in surprise. "Three? Maybe the Career pack has broken up already."

"Let's go see," she says in a trembling voice. We both clamber out of the sleeping bag and slip back to the edge of the trees. We peer out between the leaves, shivering in the cold.

"There," I say, pointing towards the mountain. The light of a hovercraft is distinct in the distance. "At least they're not near us."

Maisy squints into the darkness as the hovercraft lifts from the ground with the first dead tribute. "It's those kids," she says bleakly.

"What kids?" I whisper back.

"Those little kids. The two twelve-year olds and the fourteen-year old," she explains. "They grouped together during training; they must have formed an alliance in the arena too, thinking there would be safety in numbers."

"I guess not," I say quietly.

"The Careers are hunting through the night," Maisy adds.

We stand in silence, watching the hovercraft pick up the second dead tribute, and then the third. "Well, at least they aren't anywhere near us," I repeat finally. "Come on, let's get back to sleep."

I feel Maisy nod in the dark next to me, and we begin walking back towards camp. "I won't be able to sleep," I think to myself. "Not with those little kids just being murdered. They didn't stand a chance." But then, a quiet voice in the back of my head whispers that will all of the stress and running yesterday, I will fall asleep, regardless of the kids' brutal deaths.

The next time I wake, the sun is just beginning to rise. My shoulder aches dully, and my whole body is stiff from sleeping on the ground and from tensing towards one side of the sleeping bag so as to not disturb Maisy.

I look to my right and see Maisy, her body relaxed in sleep and her breathing gentle. I notice dark shadows under her eyes and realize that she must be exhausted after running all day yesterday.

I awkwardly maneuver myself out of the sleeping bag so as to not wake her. She might as well get some rest t while she can.

I slowly pace around the camp a few times to loosen up my stiff limbs. I swing my left arm up and around to see how much my injury has impaired my range of motion. The arm is stiff and painful, but it is at least strong enough to hold a bow steady.

Maisy's backpack is sitting by her head. I pick it up quietly and walk to the edge of our camp before unzipping it and gently removing the med kit. Inside, I find a small tube of analgesic gel and some clean bandages. I use a dab of water from one of the bottles to clean the wound, and then I swab it with the analgesic before binding it tightly in a clean bandage.

Next, I take a few sips of water while I assess our situation. We have found a seemingly safe camping spot that is relatively close to water, and, I think, far from the Career pack for now. We have medicine, weapons, and shelter, but we are dangerously low on food. All we have is the one rabbit from yesterday and a few packs of dried nuts and berries.

So there it is; our first order of business today should be gathering some stores of food and regaining our energy after yesterday's long run. I've just begun counting my arrows in anticipation for hunting when I hear Maisy stir behind me.

"Hey," she says with a small smile, rubbing her eyes and pushing her hair out of her face.

"Hey," I whisper back. "How're you feeling?"

"Alright," Maisy replies. "A little stiff."

"Me too," I smile. "Come on, let's eat." I begin unwrapping the rabbit and dividing it into two piles. Maisy slips out of the sleeping bag, rolls it up, and puts it in her backpack before joining me.

"What's the plan?" she asks, after taking a large bite of rabbit.

"Hunting and gathering," I answer, around a mouthful of meat. "Today is about conserving energy and resources. We can go on the offensive once we've settled in and got some proper food."

Maisy agrees, and we quickly finish our meal, pack our backpacks, and begin trekking down the sandy ridges towards the forest below.

"We should probably hunt by the water," I say thoughtfully, "There's more likely to be game there." I lead Maisy through the woods in the direction of the stream. On the way there I see a bush, lush with edible berries. "Here," I say, emptying the med kit and handing it to her. "Collect some berries in here, then meet me by the stream."

Maisy takes the empty med kit and heads towards the berries. "Too bad we don't have any rope," she says. "Otherwise I could set some snares too."

I shrug in response and continue the remaining half-mile towards the stream. As I tread quietly in solitude, I hear animals begin to scurry around me. Crouching low in some bushes, I wait to see what will emerge from the forest.

A few squirrels scamper by, but I wait patiently, hoping for bigger game. Birds caw above my head, and I fleetingly think that we should search for eggs later. After about forty minutes of waiting, a group of wild grouse ambles through the bushes. I shoot two quickly before the birds start to scatter. I silently curse as I go to pick up the birds; I could've gotten at least two more if my shoulder hadn't been hurting so much.

I tie the birds' necks together with my belt and keep moving. I wonder if Maisy is already at the stream and worrying because I am not there yet. "Maybe I'll teach her how to fish when I reach the stream," I think to myself.

Suddenly, I hear a branch crack behind me. I whip around in time to see a fist coming toward me. It connects with my face hard, sending me reeling. I shake my head, trying to clear the stars popping in front of my eyes, when I feel another thunderous crack on my other cheek.

I drop to my knees and roll away before I can get punched again. I take a few running steps before turning around. My attacker is the wiry boy from District 5 with the menacing eye patch. He reels back and forth as he rushes toward me, and I realize that he must be dehydrated or severely injured to be running with so little coordination.

The boy lunges at the birds still clutched in my hands, indicating that he is hungry more than thirsty. I swipe the birds away from him easily and punch him viciously in the gut.

I back away quickly trying to grab an arrow with one hand while I sling the bow off my shoulder with the other. My injured arm makes my movements too slow, and the boy attacks me again before I can shoot him. He runs into me hard, knocking the breath out of my body and causing me to drop the bow from my injured arm. He pounds me with a few more ruthless punches to the gut while I back away and scrabble to get the knife out of my pocket.

Finally getting a grip on the knife, I force myself up from my doubled over posture and swipe at the boys face as fast as I can. I rip an angry gash from his ear to his upper lip.

The boy growls in pain, splattering blood as he shakes his head. Hunger and desperation give him strength though, and he rushes at me again. With one hand he grabs my throat, and with the other he fights for control of the knife. I desperately clutch the knife, but I can't breath, and eventually I let it drop so I can use both hands to try and pry his hand from my throat.

The boy pushes me against a tree trunk, using both hands to squeeze my neck now. Black spots are blooming in front of my eyes, and I can hear my ragged gasps as I attempt to get some air.

I start panicking, realizing that this boy will kill me in a few seconds if I don't get it together. I kick out blindly, connecting with the boy's stomach. He lurches back in pain and surprise, releasing my neck. I cough wildly, trying to inhale a few precious breaths, but the boy recovers quickly and circles my throat again with his bony hands.

I lash out my legs again, but I'm losing strength with the lack of oxygen. Blackness starts to seep into the edges of my vision again, and I know I only have one more shot before I'll pass out. I try desperately to gather my strength, but I can't. My lungs are on fire and my throat works frantically, trying to gasp some air.

Faintly in the background, I hear a piercing shriek, and then all of a sudden, the pressure on my neck disappears. I double over, and my throat spasms wildly. I cough and hack, my whole body shaking. My vision slowly clears, and I back up a few paces as I try to put some space between the boy and me.

My back hits the tree trunk, and I stop, still coughing and massaging my throat. I brace myself for another attack and look up.

My eyes widen in shock as I see the boy with the eye patch twitching on the ground in front of me. Maisy stands over him with a bloody knife in her right hand. She is panting hard and staring at the boy. She takes a few more gulps of air, tightens her fist around the knife, and then kneels on the ground, plunging the knife into the boy's heart with another scream.

A cannon goes off in the distance, and Maisy falls away from the boy. She crabs back away from him for a few feet before dropping the knife and collapsing on the ground, trembling.

Finally, she looks up at me with wide, terrified eyes. "Are you ok?" she whispers, her voice cracking at the end.

"Yeah," I manage to get out, my throat still spasming slightly. "You?"

"Yeah," she nods, still shaking.

I hear a droning sound and look up. A hovercraft is descending, its black claw slowly getting bigger as the craft nears us.

"Come on, we have to go," I say, finally galvanized into action at the sight of the hovercraft.

I look around, trying to find my knife. I see it a few feet away, its handle sticking out of a small pile of leaves. I hurry to retrieve it, my bow, and the pair of birds before the hovercraft descends.

"Maisy let's move!" I say, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I look behind me to see Maisy pulling a backpack from under the dead boy's back. The pack finally releases from under his dead weight, and Maisy snatches it up before dashing away from the corpse. Just in time, as the hovercraft reaches out with its claw and gently picks up the boy's dead body. Maisy runs up next to me, and with unspoken agreement we both start running towards the ridges.

We reach our camp, and I stop, doubled over, panting hard. The boy must have really done a number on my throat to make my breathing so labored.

"Here," Maisy says, also panting, as she hands me one of the water containers.

"Thanks," I say, taking a few slow gulps. My throat reacts with hacking coughs at first, but eventually relaxes enough so that I can get some water down.

I hand the bottle over to Maisy, who is lying with her back on the ground, her eyes closed as if she is in pain.

"Are you ok?" I ask as she sits up and takes a small sip of water. She nods without meeting my eye.

"So what's the haul?" I ask, walking over the to the pack that Maisy had filched off the boy's dead body. Pawing through, I find a few feet of rope, a medicine bottle containing several energy pills, a wadded up blanket, and, wrapped in a piece of brown cloth, a small half loaf of bread.

"Jackpot!" I call out, holding up the bread. "Here, have some," I say, cutting the bread in half.

"Shouldn't we conserve some?" Maisy says halfheartedly as she takes the bread. Then she takes a hungry bite and smiles sheepishly. "Never mind, I'm starving," she takes another huge bite.

I smile and stuff some bread in my mouth. I immediately cringe as shooting pains radiate out from my jaw where the boy punched me.

"What's wrong?" Maisy asks, rushing to my side.

"Nothing," I mumble. "That kid punched me in the face a few times."

"Here," Maisy says, placing the water bottle to my jaw. The cold water numbs my cheek instantly.

"Oh…thanks," I say, relief melting my limbs. "That feels good."

We chew our bread in silence for a few minutes. I look at Maisy awkwardly, and realize that I have to ask her.

I clear my throat. "So, um, how did you find me? In the woods, with that kid…" I stumble over my words.

Maisy doesn't meet my eyes. Instead, she looks down at her fingers fiddling with a blade of grass. "It was nothing," she mumbles. "I was just walking towards the stream and I heard you guys struggling."

"So then you just stabbed the guy?" I ask, trying to prompt Maisy to give me some more details.

Maisy shrugs, "I guess," she says, still not looking at me. "Listen," she says after a long pause, "I should go refill the water containers." She grabs the canteens and rises to her feet.

"Oh," I say, surprised at the change of subject. I start to get up. "Want me to come with you?"

"No!" Maisy says quickly. She takes a deep breath. "You should start cooking those birds so we have something besides bread to eat today."

"Ok," I say looking at Maisy closely. Why is she acting so strangely? It's not like her to be so quiet, so non-communicative.

Maisy tucks her knife in her belt and slings her pack over her shoulder. She starts walking towards the stream without looking back.

I take my time searching through the underbrush to find wood for the fire. During my search, I think uneasily about Maisy. Less than a day ago I had been desperate to get rid of her, but she had proven herself capable of handling the arena so far. And, I had to admit, it was nice to have an ally in these Games, someone to help me hunt, and someone to save my life. That thought makes me even more uneasy. I don't want to become too dependent on Maisy's help, or her company. "Because," I think grimly, "she has to die for you to get back home."

I push that thought from my mind quickly. There are still eleven tributes left; there is a lot of time left between now and the end of the Games. Instead, I think about Maisy's behavior this afternoon. Why was she so quiet? "Maybe," I admonish myself, "it's because you haven't treated her very well since the Games have started. You haven't even thanked her for saving your life."

While I clean the birds I make a mental promise to myself that I will thank Maisy for killing my attacker today, and I will apologize for my past behavior to her.

Lighting the fire is difficult because I have never seen Maisy do it. I carefully pile the branches and find a large leaf to fan the flames. I light the fire and then flap at the flames wildly before too much smoke can go up. Sure enough, the flames die down quickly to smokeless embers.

By the time the meat has finished cooking, I start to worry about Maisy. She has been gone from camp for almost two hours. I think of the boy from District 5 sneaking up on me in the woods while I was alone and swallow nervously. Have I abandoned Maisy to some horrible fate?

I pack the meat quickly and sling my pack and weapons over my shoulder. I take to the woods at a jog, knowing that the stream is at least twenty minutes away.

My run to the stream is uneventful. I don't hear or see any signs of struggle. And of course, the cannon hasn't gone off, signifying that Maisy must still be alive.

I approach the river cautiously, but there is no one along the bank. I still my breathing and listen hard, wondering if I've missed anything.

After a few seconds I hear a muffled whimper from behind a pair of boulders. I walk towards the stones cautiously, until I see Maisy leaning her back against one of the boulders. The hood of her jacket is pulled up, covering her hair and face. With the sandy coloring of her clothes, she is almost invisible against the tan rocks.

"Hey," I whisper, warning her of my arrival. Maisy looks up at me, and then turns her head away quickly. I see tears on her face.

"Are you ok?" I ask, edging closer. Maisy nods, turning her face away from me.

"What's wrong?" I say. I take Maisy's chin with my thumb and turn her face firmly towards me. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Maisy says, her voice watery. She pulls her face away and swipes at her tears viciously with the back of her hand.

"Then why did you take so long? I was getting worried."

Maisy looks at me and sighs. "I went back to get the berries. I left them in the woods when the hovercraft came to pick up…when the hovercraft came." She indicates the med kit at her feet.

"So you have the berries. Why are you crying?" I say.

"I'm not crying!" Maisy says in frustration. She stands up quickly and strides to the edge of the stream where she scoops up handfuls of water and washes her face.

"You're not?" I say ironically, coming to sit by her. I look at her until she answers.

"Fine, I was crying," she says. She stares at her reflection in the water. "It's just that kid." Maisy shudders. "I killed him, you know. I just…I just needed a minute to…process it." I don't really know what to say to that. I sit struggling for words for a few minutes before Maisy whispers, "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to see me like this."

I look up in surprise. "I don't want you to think I'm weak," she adds quietly, looking down and blushing slightly.

"Maisy, you just saved my life back there! I don't think you're weak," I protest. But then I stop. I had seen Maisy cry once before, and the sight had enraged me. I had thought she was weak. I give Maisy a hard look. This girl seems to know more about me than I do.

"And even if I do think you're weak, I would be wrong," I amend my words.

"No," Maisy shakes her head. "I am weak. I knew I had to kill that kid, but it was so hard. And feeling that knife sinking into his body. I mean…it was awful. I've never killed anything before…leave aside a person. I, I can't even explain how horrible it was…" Maisy trails off, staring into the water.

"I know how awful it is," I whisper. Maisy's head turns to me. "At the Cornucopia…I killed two kids," I say quickly.

"Oh!" Maisy exhales. I turn to look at her and see shock mixed with horror reflected in her eyes. I look away quickly.

Maisy stares at me for a second longer before saying, "How do you deal with it?"

I swallow the sick feeling in my stomach. "I don't think about it," I say. "After the Games, there'll be all the time in the world to think about it. Until then, I have to stay focused."

Maisy nods and looks back at the water. "You're right," she says. She scoops out another handful of water to wash away the last traces of tears. "Alright, I won't think about it any more."

I see the determined look on her face and nod in approval. "Good." I stand up and brush the dirt off of my pants. "Come on, let's get back to camp. It'll be dark soon."

I stretch out my hand to help Maisy up. She hesitates for a second, but then grabs it. She picks up her pack and the box of berries. We turn towards the ridges, the sun setting in orange flames behind us.

Maisy and I split some of the cooked grouse during the trek back to camp. We are both exhausted, and I want to be ready for bed by the time the sun sets.

The sun dips below the horizon right as we reach our camping spot. Maisy unrolls the sleeping bag, and I hang up the tarp as the fanfare begins.

"We don't have to watch," I say turning to Maisy.

"No, we do," she says resolutely. "I want to see if those little kids really died last night."

I nod. I can't believe that it was only a few hours ago that we had awoken to the cannon blasts last night. This day has been so long.

Maisy and I walk to the edge of the underbrush in time to see the face of the twelve-year old girl, a tribute from District 3, flash in the sky. So Maisy was right: the Career pack hunted those poor kids last night.

Next, the boy with the eye patch appears in the sky. I think of him running at me, desperate for food. He doesn't look so intimidating now.

I hear Maisy swallow in the darkness. Instinctively, I reach out and squeeze her hand. Maisy doesn't say anything, but she squeezes back before she lets go.

We walk back to our camp in silence. I immediately crawl into the sleeping bag, exhausted from the day.

Maisy clambers in after me. Without hesitation, she snuggles up next to me, clutching the front of my shirt and burying her head in my shoulder. I hesitate for an instant, and then I put my arms around her. Maisy saved my life today; I at least owe her this.

My mind flashes briefly to Katniss, and my stomach twists with the memory of her cuddling in the cave with Peeta last year. I wonder what she is thinking now, of me doing something similar.

"Only this is different," I think savagely. "This isn't some ploy to win me the Games."

"Beside," I add, "what does Katniss care if I'm sharing a sleeping bag Maisy? She has Peeta, and she doesn't want me."

The thought fills me with a wave of sadness. But then I look down and see Maisy softly breathing in my arms, her beautiful hair spread out around her head and along my chest. "What does Katniss care?" I ask myself again before pulling Maisy closer and resting her head more comfortably on my chest.

I fall asleep a few minutes later, my hand entwined in Maisy's soft curls.