This is a fanfic. The original work belongs to the marvelous Suzanne Collins and any other co-owner. You want to read a good story? Start with the original. This is merely my bad take of the story I've fallen in love with.

I make no profit...

Chapter 19

The final signal rings in the room and then the cylinder is moving and slowly Cinna disappears. We have eye contact to the last seconds. I even crouch down to make it last that much longer. Then only metal walls and darkness surround me. I close my eyes and breathe; deep breaths that make my lungs ache from the stretch. Trying to become cold and focused, to banish everything else until only I exist.

I sit there in a half-rise position for the rest of the journey up, my left hand rest on the cool glass that box me in and I'm a little surprised when I feel it disappear. Instead my hand comes in contact with moving metal; to prevent injury I slowly retract and curl it to my stomach. Continue to breath; in the next few seconds I will be presented on the arena.

The air is the first thing I feel. It's a warm breeze that caress my face as the sunlight blinds me. Then I hear the birds sing in the distant and the insects flying around an open field. We are being elevated up from the ground, into the field that holds the cornucopia; the golden shaped horn build to lure its prey towards death. I can smell the lake and trees, reminiscent of my hunting-ground back home. I take a small comfort in that feeling; knowing that unintentionally Snow has built an arena perfect for me.

The joy is short lived for soon death will stain these grounds, but I swallow my apprehension and slowly rise. Focusing on my own survival and no others. I blank my face for the cameras buzzing in the sky, refusing to show weakness. The biggest hurdle at the moment is my mind; the stress and knowledge of what's at stake has taken its toll on me. Fortunately I have become calmer, my mom's words giving me strength.

The sight before me is breathtaking; in the far end of my vision a twin-mountain with snow-covered tops is presented, its long arms hugging us in their embrace. The lake's right in front of me, behind the horn and down a steep slope; cutting of any chance of escape. I hardly see it but know it's there. Behind me to my left I sense the beginning of a forest. Making the fighting-ground the center of this valley; we are placed in a half-circle around the horn, nothing but an open field for hundreds of meters. The ground made out of hard unforgiving soil and grass. No chance for hiding.

It's one of the fairer arenas really; everyone here can recognize themselves in something… except… district 12. Peeta and I don't really fit in here; there are no holes, caverns or mines for us to seek. The mountain is too far away, with too many dangers in the way to be luring. If I hadn't known how to hunt or survive in a forest I would never have survived the first time.

Claudius Templesmith's voice breaks my thoughts as it echoes over the arena. He sounds so happy that we're about to die that I almost retch.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

With those words the sky is lit up with two numbers, 60, which are slowly being counted down. We have exactly sixty seconds to orient ourselves and make a choice; to go for the weapons littering around the horn or head for the woods and safety. Not enough time and yet too long.

My legs itch as I stand motionless on the column, my eyes darting to and from the other tributes; trying to assess the danger and any possible chance for a safe escape. Adrenalin is pumping through my veins. I'm ready to run. Towards the horn or to the forest, it doesn't matter as long as I can move. I can hardly stand still, all my instincts are screaming for me to run.

I have to bite my tongue hard to stay put. The pain keeping me focused. I don't want the mines to go off. I focus instead on the fact that I'm placed different in the half circle than last time. Cato is to close for comfort, so is the other careers. I must have made Snow more aware of me than I thought; I'm placed in a rat-trap.

If I run Cato or Clove will surely take the time to attack me, not willing to let an opponent get away and gain strength. But If I make a grab for the weapons I will be trapped. The thought is shilling. On the other hand, I am a lot closer to the bow-kit from this angle; I could get it much faster if I went for it rather then head for the trees. I would have a lot more room to wiggle if I could hunt.

I was almost killed by the guy from district nine the first time around because of my greed for the bow-kit, making me pause. But now he's further down. If I can get ahead of Clove or Cato I could make it. Even now the lore is almost overwhelming; my finger itches to feel that beautiful silver bow in my hands. It's right there, in front of me, a few seconds away, resting peaceful at the opening of the horn. *What to do? What to do?*

Twenty seconds to make a decision; death by cowardice or possible death by greed. None of them being a favorite choice. I could go for the backpack again, but can't for the life of me remember which one contains the blanket and canister.

My scanning eyes locks on to Peeta. He is nervous and moving around. Not good, he can set of the mines connected to our pillars. He looks at me and I make a show of taking a big breath and relaxing. He follows on instinct. He looks worriedly towards the bow and shakes his head microscopically, trying to warn me off again. I don't reply, looking away. He's on his own and need to realize that. Can't go on worrying about me; it will weaken both of us.

We need to begin this game separated and try to win over Seneca. Haymitch needs time to sell the idea of us to the gamers. I don't know how he did it the first time, but he needs a chance to build up a story. It's a must to be able to gain a chance for the future as I know it to happen; because, in the end, I won't be the one that kills Peeta. I refuse.

~BOOOM~

The cannon goes off and everyone else is ready for it but me; having lost time by over thinking. I freeze whilst everyone else moves, but to my astonishment I'm not killed by the careers. Standing still made them automatically ignore me, their own instincts fooling them. They are of their columns in milliseconds, focusing on the weapons ahead and the moving targets.

I only have seconds to gain some value of my luck. Almost every tribute makes a grab for the real stuff, trying to get as close to the cornucopias opening as they dare. There is where the real valuables are; inside the horn there are backpacks, medicine, food and weapons of all kinds. No career will allow another tribute to close to those treasures. Therefore I turn my eyes to the things closest to me as I jump of.

Sprinting over to the closest bag I grab on to it. Not stopping there, running towards the next treasure; a jar of peanut-butter. The plan is to grab everything within range for the few seconds I have as advantage. I get an axe-shape object, hat and gloves that are shoved down the half-open bag together with the bread. No time is spared to look inside.

I can practically hear Haymitch shouting for me to run away and I can, from the corner of my eye, see Peeta being swallowed by the piney trees to my left. He is followed be the smaller kids who don't dare to try their luck. My speed is the one thing I have going for me now, I've already covered a lot of ground and I only need to keep moving towards the stuff farthest from the horn. I can get more before I need to seek shelter.

Then the first scream is heard and the fear hits me hard. I stop running, looking up and are horrified by what I see. The careers are armed to the teeth and have begun the bloodbath. A girl lays motionless on the ground. Her had is in an odd angle and blood is pouring from a head wound. I don't dare look to see who's killed her.

It may sound odd, since I always known it, but her dead corps makes the truth hit home and everything suddenly speeds up. Before I know it I'm sprinting away from the horn. Only I'm too late. I can feel I knife slashing over my arm as I run. I don't even think, just throw my body backwards and make the person behind me tumble over. The sound the person makes as we impact indicates that my attacker is male. I try to ignore the burn from my wound as I turn around and am faced with the boy from seven. He's stunned from my action and it gives me time to gain ground.

I rip the knife from him without pause and stab him in the knee. His scream makes several others look towards us and I don't dare to linger. I tear the knife out and clutch it hard to me, afraid to drop it. I look around enough to get my bearing and then I'm off again. As I run I'm wiping away the tears blinding me. The wound is agonizing, but easy to ignore. It is the girl's face that's haunting me.

All around me tributes are fighting, some for the thrill, others for survival. The sight is sickening. Clove is throwing her knives with perfection, tribute after tributes falls. Some dead and other mortally wounded. I remember her knives and am happy for the space between us. Cato is all the more near, stabbing at the bigger tributes with a giant sword from the cornucopia. He is covered in blood, Marvel is right behind him; making sure the fallen tributes are dead. Glimmer is close to the opening and is shooting down anyone that gets to close.

They are a deadly team and have almost annihilated every strong contestant already. Glimmer has soon spotted me moving for the trees, her arrows start flying around me and I can feel one moving right by my face. But I stay focused and soon the trees and foliage swallows me. I don't slow down though, wanting as much space between us as I can get.

Behind me I can hear scream and laughter, the bloodbath is in full swing and I hope that Rue is long gone. Soon the killing will start in the woods and then the real game begins. I have to stop myself from crying over the life lost. It feels horrible to have left so many people behind to die, but I learned a long time ago that you can't save anybody if you don't save yourself first.

I sprint for a good while before slowing down to a jog, trying to reserve my energy without losing ground. Only stopping to make a fast compress out of moss over the wound and tying it down with soft bark carved of a young birch. I decide to head for the outskirt of the arena for a few hours, before crossing back. I'm bitterly reminded of the game-makers joy in grouping the tributes together for fights and know there's no point trying to avoid the others. Better to play hide and seek then run-like-hell.

For a few hours I walk a straight path, going south, before breaking off to the east. I get a clear indication on what's south and what's north from the vegetation's, besides the river was on the west side of the valley. If I keep the mountain to my right everything should be alright. Much later the cannon start going off. It's time to announce how many people that has died at the cornucopia. It's also a signal that the careers are on the move. Last time there had been eleven casualties, this time I only hear the cannon ten times: Fourteen still in the game.

I make time to rest and remove the pack from my back, hoping to find some water. I'm horrified when I see an arrow sticking out from it. I would have died immediately if something hadn't stopped it. It was too damn close back there, and all for nothing. Again… I need to be better than this.

I open the pack to see what's saved my life and almost laugh when I see the arrow head being lodged in a rolled up emergency-saw kit, working gloves, and my peanut-butter jar. Beside those the bags almost empty; the only items in it a the small mora-knife I grabbed, a hat two sizes too large and what I had thought was a smaller axe but turns out to be… kitchen tools rolled up in a piece of fabric; a spatula, a kitchen-shredder, a fork. No water container and no weapons. Luckily I find an odd blanket at the bottom. It paper thin and light, but I'm beyond grateful. It will help keep me warm tonight. For the rest? I can use the hat as a filter, the small knife as a fishing tool and the shredder to shred food.

That together with the hunter knife and the arrow I should be able to survive.

The gloves will also be handy in dealing with climbing, digging or keeping warm. That's least something. Unfortunately the peanut-butter must be thrown away. It's filled with glass. I dare to eat some from the cap, but the rest is buried underneath a rock.

The two knives I attach to my belt and the saw-line I strap around my left boot for easy access. I stuff the gloves into my pockets and the arrow I twin into the back of the bag. Then I pack the other items and zip up. With the sun up high I head out again. It must be around two. I have several more hours before nightfall. As I walk I see traces of life all around, grateful that it's only wildlife. Rabbit spilling and bird feathers are a good signs for food, but no footprints or snapped branches is even better.

In the distant I can hear the cannon go off. One more tributes have fallen, thirteen still in the game.

…

It's around dinner-time when I start to find traces of other people. It's a deep footprint in the ground that alert's me. Around the big one several smaller footprints is shown.

*The careers.*

They are the only ones that would travel in a group of this size. I hunker down and scan the area. The good thing is that they don't look completely fresh. The ground around the big one is drying at the edges, but it still to near for my taste. I look around for a place to hide, feeling trapped and vulnerable.

I have tall trees around me, but they are too far apart to give me cover. The ground is covered in rock and grass, but neither high enough to hide me. I'm a sitting goose. A moment later I can hear them in the distant and curse my rotten luck. They are doubling back. I lay flat on the ground. The only chance I see is a small sloop a few feet away, but it's open ground to it and I have to find a way to cover myself before I'm found.

*I just had to go across the forest to the water, not around it after going straight though.*

Adrenalin is coursing through my body and my pulse going a hundred miles a minute. I want nothing more than to get up and make a break for it, but the risk is too high. Instead I get up on my hand and toes and crawl-walk away from the trail. I'm leaving clues, but hopefully not deep enough that they will notice. When I get to the small sloop I roll down as silent as I can. Hardly a sound is made.

I'm sweating heavily and am gasping for breath, close to panic, but struggling on. I'm out of direct line of sight - far from safe. The sloop hides me, but only barely. There is no room for movement. I'm already tired and this stress is weakening me further. I dig my hand into the ground and try to get as much dirt over me as I can; working hard and fast. Fortunately the ground is loose. I'm grabbing moss, grass, and stones; trying to camouflage my body.

They are getting closer; I can hear branch snapping and soft talking. They must be able to see the area I'm in now. They are going back the same way they come so they won't get lost. Shit. I'm afraid to keep digging into the ground. Only, I don't dare to stop; I can feel how close they are. I will be killed if I stop. I have covered my face, clothes, boots and hands in soil. I'm as covered as I can be, but still I keep on piling on more.

Soon I can hear them on the path over me. They are right there. I stop breathing, thinking, moving. I don't dare open my eyes, afraid to find them smirking at me. The people back at the capitol must be thrilled, seeing me so exposed.

"Did you see the face of that kid? He was - oh no, I'm about to die." It's Marvel, he's laughing. I can imagine him so near that I almost feel his breath on my face. His words make me cold with anger. I control the urge to kill; mostly because the gamemakers probably already preparing another canon just for me.

"That was a good one, but I loved that small girl that was like – please don't kill me, I can help you." Clove replies, mimicking the tribute fallen, getting a laugh out from the rest. Taking joy in the lives lost.

"Yeah! As if we would need such a little shit." Glimmer says condescending.

They keep talking about their kills, Peeta doesn't seem to be with them and worry sets in. I don't have visual so confirmation is unattainable, but from the sound of it is two bigger males, a smaller one and two females standing overhead. The fact that neither of those are snapping any branches or stumbling over invisible obstacles leads me to believe Peeta to be elsewhere. The thought takes my focus from the careers proximity, preventing me from panicking.

What amazes me more is that not one of them has taken the time to look for tracks and soon I hear them walking away. They must be too high on adrenalin from the recent kills to keep a proper lookout. Still I don't dare to move even after they long gone, afraid off a trap. It's almost pitched black before I finally force myself to get up.

Frozen to the core and shaking to spread warmth I take in the land; everything is quiet, covered in darkness and calm. The feeling of aloneness is a comfort, it makes me brave and secure in its familiarity. The camera-pods are probably focusing on the careers and other survivors right now; already having had their fill of me. I take my time to massage the feeling back into most body-part before setting out to find a shelter. Tree climbing is out, my limbs to stiff and cold. it's the ground for this night at least.

After about an hour of walking the sky lights up; it's time to show us the fallen ones'. The first is the dead girl I saw; it's Amber from district three, only fourteen, followed by Azora and Sebastian from four. Their young age makes my heart ache for their families. Then Dean from five appears and after him; Tamara and Jason from six, Wallace from seven, Savannah and Lee from eight, Demetria from nine and Susan from ten. All of them so young.

The screen goes dark. Left in the game is Cato, Clove, Glimmer, Marvel, Noah, Finch, Sienna, Craigh, Timmer, Rue, Thresh, Peeta and I.

Beyond relieved when Peeta's picture doesn't appear I start walking again; hoping that I'm still keeping to the east, the night disorienting me a bit. I still had some concerns regarding Peeta; it was troubling that he hadn't been with the careers. Hopefully he will survive the first night and join them in the following day. The thought is sickening because it will mean blood on Peeta's hands, but it is a necessary evil so he better manage it. He won't last on his own in this forest and I can't help him.

Hunger finally setting in I use the knife and saw to cut away some bark from a nearby pine tree to get at the soft inner bark. The taste leaves a lot to be desired but keeps me from feeling the hunger. I also eat mushrooms found on a dead log, recognizing them to be non-poisonous. Chewing I think over the situation; depression being one of the main concerns at the moment. It can shut down your system and kill you faster than anything else. Cold being the other problem; it will be biting cold when the dark sets in and I don't have an efficient blanket.

The second problem is solved when I come across a huge thornbush, leaning up against an oak. After examining the innards I'm convinced it could be made into a fine shelter; its roots being spread out from the start. To get some more good spirit I make a trap for rabbit before getting to work; hoping to get some meat for the next day.

The small chainsaw makes quick work of the tough branches, the thorns hurts, but with the gloves I make due. Also it will give me added protection from animals. Then the inside gets softened by moss, leaf and dirt; making a nest for my small body. I work hard and efficient; after some time I'm satisfied that it will keep me safe. After checking the area one last time I crawl in; covering myself with the blanket first, then with leaves and moss. I practically disappear into the ground.

I would have preferred a tree, but beggars can't be choosers. Soon after I'm asleep, semi-warm and tired to the bone. Only waking once during the night when the cannon goes off. I fall asleep once again after Sienna's picture is shown, hardly sparing her the respect she deserves.

...

I wake from a sudden sound at the wee hour of the morning, the sun barely breaking the tree tops. There is someone close and I make damn sure that I'm still covered, even if all I see is the long shadows covering the forest floor.

What I can't see I hear all the better.

Someone is close and not walking very quietly. It seems to be a lone creature, from the pause between steps it must be an injured human. Cussing I grab the knife. Ready to defend myself if need be. Knowing that the gamemakers will make us fight if it's to their amusement. Hopefully they have gotten enough from the past day, willing to save on the action until later.

I stop breathing as the person stop nearby my bush; fearing the worst. Not willing to take a life or risk my own, but knowing it might be necessary. When I realize it is Thresh I'm filled with dread. The only way to bring him down is the element of surprise, and that's an off chance in itself. He must have gotten lost after the initial bloodbath, he's far away from any land known to him. Wonder what has made him walk this way.

The smell of blood hits me. He is wounded and badly. From the slumped form just a few meters away it must be bad to. His silent moans make the ache from my own wound come to life. Suddenly it feels like it's on fire and the urge to join Thresh in the moaning grows. I manage to keep my tongue, being thankful for the cover I have. Thresh could kill me with one hand if he found me, the thought is shilling.

Then the situation goes from bad to worse. Thresh is piling up loose leaf and branches, he's going to make a fire. The thought is terrifying. The careers might be close and it's still too dark. They will see us for miles, shrinking the survival chances for us both exponentially. In the end as he tries to make a spark I have no choice but to gamble.

I turn onto my stomach as silently as possible. Dragging myself millimeter from millimeter to the opening. When I get there I press my body to the three behind the bush and crawl out. Thresh is so focused on the fire that he doesn't notice me. I'm ready to make a run for it when he lets out a cry of pure pain, stopping me dead. I turn slowly to get a better look at him.

He has gotten a small fire going, sealing his fate. He is covered in dirt and blood, someone else's probably. From what I can see he has a deep slash going over his left leg, probably why he walked so slowly. At his side a deadly looking machete lies, dark from dried blood. Minutes tick by and I find myself unable to leave him. His pain getting to me and soon the most insane idea I ever had forms in my mind. The even more insane thing is that I'm going to act on it.

"If you put out the fire I'm willing to help you." My words are quiet but Thresh hears them. He gets up faster than I thought possible, machete in his hand and are ready to fight. I don't come out from behind the tree. The light from the fire has blinded him from seeing and I use it to my advantage. "I'm not going to hurt you… but I will defend myself."

"Who's there?" Thresh demand in a loud voice. I hush him in irritation.

"Put out the fire you idiot and keep quiet." My voice has gone hard and angry. He seems too noticed from the glare he sends out into the dark. "You might want to die, that's your business, but I want to live so what about not signaling to every tribute where you are." The sharp edge to my words could cut.

Thresh actually lowers his eyes to the fire and look sheepish. Probably just know thinking about the careers. He quickly stumps out the fire that has just started to take form. The morning twilight giving me chills. I can see him a lot better now and he has finally found me. We don't speak for several minute, just staring at each other and waiting for a move.

"What do you want?" He finally asks, guarded and angry. Not liking that I was so close.

"At this moment? To help, be allowed to get my things and not be killed. You?" I say as a matter of fact. He doesn't seem willing to kill me and I take some relief from that.

"Not be killed and get the fuck out of here. I hate forests." Is the answer I get.

"Well, that's good. What about a truce for the next hour and I patch you up?" I ask, he gives me a nod in agreement and on a silent signal we both bury the weapons in the trees next to us. We are not relaxed, both refusing to let the other out of sight. I have to tell him several times what I plan to do before he lets me. I almost blush as I tell him to lose the pants, but get over it when I see the severity of the wound. It already smells and I'm worried about gangrene.

I tell him to get ready for some real pain, it needs to be cleaned. Thresh doesn't sound happy but do as told. He bites down on his jacket and drill his hand into the ground. I'm forced to use my own spit to clean the wound, making sure to get as much as I can before starting to scrub at it with some wet leaves. Thresh screams into the sweater and starts sweating heavily, but don't stop me. As I work I channel Prim and try not to vomit at the gore. I'm efficient and quick, being able to handle a lot of wounds now do to the war curing most of my disgust.

As I work Thresh tries to relax as best he can, listening to me telling him the importance of getting it seen to better, later. What I use is temporary, what he needs is some white moss to use for compress. It will suck up the blood and keep away bugs. That and some sterilized water, the wound can't be allowed to get dirty again or he will die from it. I do what I can and even sacrifice my small piece of fabric to use as bandage. I use some resin* to cover the wound, it will hide the smell and keep away dirt. It will also glue the fabric to the wound and avoid it being exposed to the elements.

When I'm done I collect my thing and get ready to head out; happy that I don't have to leave anything behind.

"Thank You." Thresh whispers as he leans on the tree. Looking like a fallen warrior. I give him a nod in response, strapping on the bag.

"That will not be enough, but it won't kill you faster." I say, moving away from him, towards my knife. Not willing to risk leaving it behind.

"I will remember… Do you have water?" He asks after some thought. I shake my head in negative.

"No. No food either. You?" I get a negative reply, making me pause. "If you need better ground to survive I think you have high grass and open landscape in that direction." At this I point towards the clearing area, away from the mountains and the deep forest.

"How can you tell?"

That is a good question and since I don't want anyone to know… How to play this off?

"The mountains are ahead of us and several animals have gone that direction." I demonstrate by showing him the droppings of deer's laying behind him; the trails pointing north. "They like open space and the clearing was in opposite direction from the tops so..." Here I pretend to think about it; trying to appear a bit dumb.

"... You should just head back and you should be fine. You should be able to find it easy enough." At that I finally leave; avoiding to head east as a start, not wanting him to now my real direction. What I left unsaid is that he will need water long before he reaches open land, but there is a point when my generosity won't go further. He has to make it on his own. After all he probably plans to use my bush as a sleeping place; if he dares. How more nice can you be, and I'm leaving a rabbit trap for him to find. It should be good enough.

I walk in a northerly direction until daybreak before heading east again. There should be water up ahead, less than a day's walk. I make sure that no trace that he or another can follow. I eat what I come across as I walk; bark, grass, berries and mushrooms. None is enough, but it keeps me from starvation which is good. I need the little fat that I got for what's to come. The thirst I feel being firmly pushed aside.

[*Resin is nothing you should use on a wound. It merely something I'm using for this fanfic. White moss (the kind we have in Sweden) helps with bleeding though… ]

…

Its late day and I'm beginning to get severely dehydrated, having walked for hours in a zick-zack pattern to avoiding other tributes. Seeing evidence of them here and there. Luckily I can orient on these lands better than the others, being the one hunter from twelve working to my advantage. Not mentioning the fact I'm already acquainted with the arena. The trace of coming water is clear; the trees are greener, there is more wildlife and more variation of birds. The signs keep my spirits up, but I am worried.

Depending how bloody yesterday was and what kind of killing the careers has done this day will mark how many days of calm we a sure to get. If the audience is pleased we can have more than two days before the next death. If not, well, the day is young. One thing I can be sure about is that the next one is going to be natural.

Death isn't random in the arena, because nothing get passed the gamemakers. Seneca Crane hold all of our lives in his hands, he might not control the outcome but he set up the stage. A sudden stream for example can derail a tribute and lead him to another's camp, thus forcing a fight to break out. Thresh and I would have been forced to fight if I hadn't been allowed to leave the bush. A sudden noise could have warned Thresh, making him stab at the bush before I could offer a truce.

It's a good sign that they only want excitement today, not death.

I've long suspected the careers of getting guidelines before entering the arena. They are too good at keeping enough alive to make it interesting. What else can possibly keep them from killing us all otherwise? It would explain why Peeta was allowed to live the first time around and why Rue suddenly got caught in the net when she had been so careful. Most likely the reason why I haven't found water yet; it should be very close, if no one has change the direction of the mountains… can they do that?

Then I hear them. The buzzing, freezing me in place. Around me are trees, same as before, but isn't that dead tree up ahead very familiar. I slowly walk towards it, the buzzing getting louder. When the first Tracker jacker appears I take my time studying it. It is collecting pollen from a flower, its fellows close by.

The thing about Tracker jackers is that they won't attack if you keep your distant. This is why I take several steps back and circle around the tree. As I move I keep a look out for the nest, wanting to get a clear look at the hive. It is only spotable from a distant, the thick branches hiding it otherwise.

It is a beautiful hive, big and prosperous; Tracker jackers flying all around the nest, keeping guard. I watch for a few more minutes before leaving, not wanting to risk a sting; its hallucinogenic poison would keep me from the finding water and if I remember correctly it is just behind the tree. No fireballs leading me this time.

After some more walking, very cautiously since the careers could be close, I finally find the stream. At the sight of the clear glittering water I almost give a shout of joy. Quickly I throw my bag into the brushwood, the jacket and shoes following, before getting in. Letting a quick scan be enough, wanting to drink myself full and get soaked.

The water is cold and refreshing, the current being calm. I take my time, enjoying the peace. When I've quenched my thirst and gotten most of the dirt off I let the sun dry me of. As I lay hidden behind a couple of rocks, keeping an ear to ground, I start thinking of the next step.

More than 24 hours has gone by, I'm still alive and so is Peeta. The cannon has been silent except for Sienna, meaning that the gamemakers will focus more on our survival for the day. The respite give me comfort. I will have time to set up a camp, somewhere that I can store the most vital things. The cave would be a good spot, but if the gamemakers decide to come after me it will be the first thing found by the careers. Better save it to later.

After finding a camp I need to make hunter tools. For the day I will settle for a fishing-spear. The stream is deep enough for fishes and oyster. I should be able to get food and build a fire to cook it. Then tomorrow I have to solve how to preserve and transport water. A jar would be great or a canister, but having neither leaves my father old back up plan; which means I will have to stay close to the stream for the next day or so, putting me in a higher risk as the hours go.

When my clothes have dried enough I get to work. The first thing to do is to relocate to a better spot. I find one downstream, near the big river. A landscape of big rocks that could hide a person from every angle, the problem being that danger is hidden just as well. After some looking I find a half-cavern hidden in the sloping ground, formed by four big boulders that gives me peepholes to east, west and south. It just big enough and after some heavy lifting I have hidden it even better.

I fill the wet floor with leafs and branches, making sure no trace is left. The rocky ground before me has many holes and I find one big enough for a fireplace. I make sure it is plenty deep and easy to cover at any sign of danger. The location isn't the best, but it fills my needs. The ground doesn't leave prints, the stream is just to my left and it is hard for anyone to see the "cavern".

When shelter is done I focus on the food. I take out the mora-knife and the real knife, a plan forming. Heading inside the wood I look for several long branches, wanting bark that is strong, yet peelable. After finding some I harvest up high, directly in the tree. Both for cower and to preserve energy. If I had taken the ones lower any other tribute passing would know I was near.

Hidden away behind thick trees I spend an hour on peeling strip of bark from branches, getting long and beautiful fiber strings to make a rope out of. When I have enough for my purpose I clean up after myself and head back.

By the time I'm back it has become late afternoon and my stomach is screaming for food. I ignore it and sit amongst the brushwood and twin my rope, making sure to get it right from the start. When I have a good enough rope, being strong and long, I lay it to the side.

Taking out the hunter knife I set to work on a stick collected on the way back, it's about a meter long and three cm across. I use the knife and a rock to make a U at the top, strapping on the mora-knife and tying the rope around it. I have now made a fishing-spear; time to hunt myself some dinner.

After some looking I find a spot at a mellower part of the stream, near a strong draft. The fish seems unperturbed by my presence and are calmly swimming around. The trick now is to get the fish at the first strike, making sure to leave as much of the water undisturbed as possible. That way the other fishes won't realize what happening.

I make a couple of tries a bit away from the chosen spot, wanting to get a feel of the new tool. After a couple of tries I feel confident enough. I take up position on a flat stone, one foot in the water for extra balance. The wait that comes is well worth it, in just a couple of hours I have about five young salmon. Happily I make the way back; finding the camp undisturbed I start fillet the fish. Food is ready by sunset and I make sure to put out the fire before it starts showing in the lime-light. With a full stomach I bed down for sleep, hiding my opening carefully with several medium sized rocks.

Soon I'm down for the count; content on a full stomach and re-hydrated. Sleeping easy as the night falls upon the valley.