Everything seems to narrow in my field of vision, like running down a long hallway. Two shapes ahead of me, and then one drops, perhaps trips, while the other person halts to a stop. I get closer and closer. I discover that it was Noah who had kept his footing—which is good news—but that he seemed to be lowering his rock hammer—why!?

The dead rats are still back streamside. I impress, or is it more surprise, even myself that I'd think of something like that as my ally is advancing on someone up ahead. Whoever it is, they are sopping wet and with their arms back behind them to support their weight, they seem to be talking up at Noah.

I keep my hunting knife drawn. Finally I realize that the person on the ground is a girl. Wildly, my heart starts beating erratically. Is it...

No, it's not. Like everything else that has happened to me in this Arena, it's never what I want, or who I most desperately want to see. Farah Gilderling isn't lying on the ground there. I simply have to hope that she's still alive, somewhere else.

"You!" Wren Astoris from District Six exclaims at me, water still dripping down from her lovely face, the same going for her attire.

This doesn't strike me quite right, and I am tense. My eyes flicker away from Wren, and skim our surroundings as rapidly as possible. If she were working with the Careers, she'd want to delay us as long as possible until they might sneak up and be able to close in, unobserved. Even as I begin talking, my tone is a bit sarcastic and our eyes only meet once or twice as I keep looking around us. "Sorry to disappoint. So you are still alive." I fling at her, and I see an intensity burn behind those bright blue eyes of hers.

Noah's knuckles turn a little white as he tightens his grip on his rock hammer. Excellent…he too seems to understand that this might all be an elaborate ploy. Doesn't seem like the two of us would be worth the trouble of a ruse to the Careers, but maybe they want to make sure we'll die, using Wren as a decoy.

Wren looks caught, but she shakes her head and rolls into a sitting position, showing us both her empty hands. "I am unarmed. I didn't mean it as a bad thing…Herod. Just, I don't know. I'm glad you're both alive. I didn't see either of you at the Cornucopia, where I was hiding."

I keep my features hard, my gaze indifferent as I drop my hand to my side, but still grip the hunting knife. All exposed like this, I have no idea who might be watching this go down, or from where. "Gotten this far without a weapon? You're more brilliant than I gave you credit for." I say with acid; I just can't seem to help myself.

She makes a small noise in the back of her throat, and I can tell she is surprised by my attitude. Now she starts talking to Noah, and I listen to their conversation, ever-aware of anything that might be sneaking up on us.

"I didn't go in very far. Got this from Pord. Never saw you." Noah begins.

Wren says, "Same goes for you. Knox killed Pord, I saw it myself. Few times with a hatchet. Farah was there too, but I didn't see much of her. Lurie came along too…she was running really fast, I don't think the Careers caught her. I saw Motum get killed." she says with real sadness in her voice.

What a terrific actress, I think to myself. So Knox killed Pord? That isn't unbelievable, given that Knox had told me anyone who wasn't with us, was against us. At the same time, it doesn't seem quite right how Wren would reveal all of this just now. I keep the knife at-hand.

Due to our silence, the Wren continues on with her story.

"I thought that if I could just stay in my hiding place long enough, the Careers wouldn't even find me. My plan was to wait until they were done picking over the stuff there. The girl from District One saw me, or at least I thought she had. But…but I stayed put and realized she'd just been looking in my direction." Wren brings her hand to her face and coughs into it once, before going on.

"The guy and the girl from Two got swords. That big ape from One had this humongous sledgehammer. Sia got a bow and arrow, I saw. They were scouting around the hill, until…"

"Who's Sia?" I say.

"That girl from Seven."

"Great." Noah groans with obvious disapproval. He is skeptical of Wren too, but not by half as much as I am.

"But listen." Wren demands. "I thought they'd gone, so I dropped down and headed over to where they left a few things. I'd gotten a knife, and this pack," referring to the small leather carrying pouch slung over her shoulder I assume, "but they hadn't left yet. That guy from District Two popped up outta nowhere, and came running for me, but this tiger came leaping out of nowhere and everything turned to shit!" Wren yelled, her voice definitely at a near hysterical level. "It chased them down, I thought it was coming for me…"

Hearing that one little word, the description of the big cat, makes my blood turn to ice water. A tiger! Now I feel like my jaw is settling into cement, and I am looking around us very nervously. I vaguely recall talking about the Games with Wren before, and a tiger cage being a metaphor for the Arena. She'd said we were the tigers.

It takes several moments to realize that all of this could be a fabrication, it certainly is sounding less and less likely as she goes on. I don't need to be worrying about damned tigers, I need to be worried about Wren, and the Careers she's aligned with.

She goes on with some cockamamie story about the tiger chasing down the Careers, so she runs and drops her knife. Why would a tiger chase down a bunch of people, when there was a solitary victim just as easily had?

"How convenient." I cannot help myself from saying to her. I am very aware that I am currently standing in only one of my shoes. If I needed to run, that could get a little tricky.

"What!" She shrieks up at me, eyes burning and I can even see her teeth gritted. "There was nothing fucking convenient about it, Herod. I almost got my guts—"

"Oh shut the fuck up." I spit right back at her, my dander definitely up. "Quit selling this shit like it really happened. There is no way some tiger happens along right at the right damn moment for you to make an escape. You're buying time until we get trapped, so you all can kill us. How long did it take you to sell out? Was it right away, or did you just start thinking better of the plan the night before last?" I picture Arko and his glasses, and I am getting extremely mad.

Noah had gotten quiet. I see from the corner of my eye that he is now looking around the field to make sure my accusation wasn't coming true.

"I don't know what you're talking about! I'm not lying!" She growls through gritted teeth, and even though she's sopping wet, I can tell from the expression on Wren's face that she is crying. "I can't believe you'd think that of me." She looks up at me, the blue in her eyes having gotten electric, and sparking. "I've been all on my fucking own," she screams as she shakily gets to her feet and I ready myself for a fight, "all day today and then you find me. I thought," she shakes her head disbelievingly, "my luck had changed, but now you're not going to believe me! Fuck you!"

Our eyes are locked, hers and mine, and neither of us move for what seems like a good 10 seconds. My mind is reeling through the possibilities. I see the hurt look, not so much on her face, but in her eyes. Her mouth has become an angry jagged line, her face red, making her eyes stand out all the more. I could run up and slit her throat right now. End it right here, make her pay for what I think she's done. But has she? The way her lips are turned down in such a look of disbelief and near-hatred, is giving me pause. There's such a thing as a good actress, but this might go beyond. My sister could make herself cry on demand, but she could not look like that. Wren looked both furious and hopeless.

Noah's voice steps out between us, discreetly, "Arko attacked him."

Wren's features turn from surprise, to a shuffled, sorrowful expression as her eyebrows relax and she looks at me once more. "I figured he'd been killed by the Careers." She starts out.

"Yeah, well, surprise." I say, still with more than my share of venom.

Her eyes flash at me, with a look of hatred, though it is quickly replaced with a gentler one, as she takes a breath. "I told him to stick with the plan. He kept on and on about how stupid it was. How it wouldn't work. Thought he knew better." She drops her head and is shaking it. "I'm sorry."

Damn it! This is making it impossible for me to hate Wren. Blame her for what Arko did to me. Think her a spy, trying to ensnare both Noah and myself in her web like a spider. Logic was prevailing now. The Careers would never trust her enough to leave her alone. They wouldn't let her more than out of arm's reach. She was too much of a risk, she might defect. I don't know why I had not realized it before now. My anger isn't turning to guilt, but it is slowly being thinned out, like adding water to soup.

"It's not your fault." Noah tells her.

"You guys both look like hell." Wren says finally. It was obvious she was finding it difficult to look me in the eye. I was fine with this, as I didn't want to look at her, either.

"I'm glad you managed to hang onto your weapons. I had a knife, but I used it against this monkey thing…lost it." Wren's voice was unsettled, but I could not blame her for that. "What happened to the two of you?"

As we all head back toward the creek, Noah recounts a few of our less than serendipitous encounters today. He omits anything about Cynthia, but I will never be able to blame him for that. As I follow them, sure to keep them both in my eyesight, and the approach of evening, I almost smile.

It isn't one of happiness, but of helplessness. I feel like the next thing that happens, I'm going to completely snap. I almost killed Wren, a few minutes ago. I tell myself that I just need to get some good nutrition, and that if we can actually build a fire, that could be attainable. But is that really the problem? My head tells me so, but my heart seems to know better. She says she escaped from the Careers, there was some tiger…a monkey…I don't know what the hell is going on anymore. I want to be believe her, but just as equally, I want to prove myself right that she is a spy, and kill her before she has a chance to do anything to us.

Roman, you were wrong about me. I'm not destined to win these games. They're too hard. Maybe hard is not even the right word. They are cruel. Cruel, like the way the Capitol grows fat off the rest of us. Cruel like the way that I have seen the bigger street kids bully, beat on, and rob the weaker ones. Didn't I read something, somewhere, about the law of the jungle? The strong prey upon the weak?

Etcher was absolutely right. It's all an illusion. All of us in here, even the Careers, are the weak. They might be strong in the Arena, but this is just the present. Right now I am happy that I am thinking too much. It's making me feel smarter, and more aware. Everything comes to an end, absolutely everything.

Why can't I get saved, like we just saved Wren? Even Cynthia was saved, in a manner of speaking. Earlier today I had promised myself that I would never again feel sorry for anyone else.

I'm already breaking my promises.

After my bath in the creek, I do feel better. There was no soap, but at least I was able to wash away some of the stink of the day, both literally and figuratively. I'd done so after Noah and Wren, as there were occasional concerns that she was going to turn on us, or that maybe she just had been working the Careers all along. These thoughts were pretty unfounded, quite honestly. Still they lingered, and I was bothered by the fact that they lingered. I was not going to take my eyes off her, if I could help it.

We'd not heard any more cannons, which probably meant good news. Surprising to me, really. With things like the creature on the plateau, those tree monsters, or now knowing that there ware tigers in here with us…it seemed odd that no one else had died. I wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth. The Gamemakers were still satisfied with how things were going. Panem must have been tuning in, and the ratings were up. Yesterday had been brutal, after all. Maybe everyone's quotient of blood and murder had been satisfied for now.

When I return to where Noah and Wren are waiting, they inform me that we're going to set up 'camp' north of here, closer to the jungle. There was one huge problem with that however…I didn't see how we were going to get a fire started.

I had taken Arko's glasses after I'd killed him, but they weren't here now. I don't remember putting them down, or even taking them out of my pocket. I suppose it is pointless to wonder now. I didn't have them any more. Even if I had, they'd only be useful in magnifying sunlight, and the sun was rapidly dying.

I busied myself collecting twigs, brambles, and grasses, the driest ones I could find, while Wren went about more properly treating Noah's wounds. In the leather bag she'd scored from near the Cornucopia, there had been two flares. Naturally their sparks could be used to start a fire, except that good kindling was extremely hard to come by in this wet, tropical atmosphere. What sort of place had bats, tigers, monkeys, and birds called peacocks, anyway?

Sooner than later, Wren helps me collect the best ingredients we can, for making fire. She's even hungrier than we are, and though she is still very pretty, her face does look a little gaunt. I know that look. In Eight, there are poorer families who always have that hungry expression in their eyes, detailed in their faces and bodies. It seems unlikely to me that she is a spy, now. Where I had been almost sure she was a traitor before, I was now all but certain she wasn't. Wren was behaving very guarded…she was on her own. The two of us talk a little about what our options are.

We could try returning to the Cornucopia, and scavenge whatever may have been left by the Careers, but there is no guarantee that they haven't returned themselves. Neither of us wanted to find a tiger…it could kill all three of us surely, in short order. It would be easier to try and scavenge something at night, because Wren tells me the Cornucopia is at the top of a hill. In daylight, were we to go picking through whatever may be left, we'd be easily seen. It's lucky for us that there is a stream. The lake to the northwest might provide us with some better food, but Wren agrees with me that for now, especially at night, it's not a good idea to go exploring a massive watering hole.

The only tree which seems like it would yield decent bark for a fire, has it's branches out of reach from the ground. I hoist Wren up onto my shoulders, and though her weight digs into me, and it's painful given my injuries, she gets up into the tree and goes about cutting through some of the limbs in the approaching dark. She uses my knife mainly, and it isn't until she's back on the ground that I realized how dangerous it was to be on the ground without any means to protect myself. If I can give her my knife, then I realize my mind is already made up.

Strange that I was so sure she was a villain, and now I was taking her as an ally. Aside from Farah, and now Noah of course, she was the easiest for me to talk to before the games had even started. We were different in a lot of ways, but Wren seemed to understand me easily. That is no small task. Wren was intelligent, and because she was, she seemed to know what topics might upset me. We'd worked well together collecting the stuff for the fire, and we carry it back to where Noah remained, unharmed.

"I keep expecting something awful to happen." I admit to Wren as we come back to our 'camp'.

"All of this is awful." Wren says, raising an eyebrow and looking at me reasonably. "Don't wish to die, Herod. Never do that."

There is an urgency in Wren's voice, and stinging behind her blue eyes, that has me nod quite seriously. Not that I ever would anyway, but with such a look…I can't try to pick apart Wren's demand.

She knew what I was thinking before I did. No, I hadn't been wishing for death, but it is an escape. What made me survive, while others hadn't? I know that at least Noah knows how I'm feeling. We touched on it a bit earlier today. While it had been horribly trying, it just seemed bizarre that we were still alive.

We'd not seen the Careers. I suppose when I really think on it, of Hunger Games I'd seen in the past, it was not always bloodshed and insanity. There were lulls. The bad side of that, is that if nothing is happening on it's own, the Gamemakers might force the issue. That idea was truly horrific, so I don't allow my thoughts to wander too deeply into it.

After some debate, we decide to light up a flare. As it smokes and gutters, it's light is extremely bright and I am unbelievably apprehensive that we'll be spotted. I seem to have little to no aptitude with fire making, so I am extremely fortunate that Noah and Wren don't get discouraged. Though the first two they try building went out, the flare was still going in time for their efforts to not be in vain. Our fire is small, but against all odds, it burns.

I had skinned the rats, though I almost diced open my hand even in the glow of the fire. I like my hunting knife just fine, but again a gut hook would've made the job all the easier. I may not have done a perfect job, but neither Noah or Wren complain or volunteer to do a better job themselves.

Wren reveals to us that while she is not in actual possession of a weapon, per se, she does have an item that can be used in combat. Along with some medical items that she'd found in the leather bag, were a pair of small scissors. They certainly wouldn't be killing any animals, but might gouge out an eye, or even open a vein with the right timing and aim. In the Hunger Games, you had to take what you could get. It really was that simple.

Rat tastes good. Similar to chicken, really. It is dark meat of course, and a bit stringy in parts, but the fatter of the rats, tastes wonderful. I apportion Wren a smaller bit of the meat than Noah and I, but she doesn't notice, or more likely, she isn't going to complain. After all we'd caught them, and we had more body mass to worry about. We take turns ripping apart the shreds of the rats. Eating gristle, not caring one iota. Regularly the taste of fat is very unappetizing to me, but to actually find some in the rat, I suck it clean out. With the three of us turning into absolute wolves, we eat every scrap of the rodents. Only their bones remain, and even then, Noah starts sucking on one. Wren and myself follow suit in short order.

"We have to get some more rats." Wren says with a smile curving onto her feminine features, easily seen in the firelight. Apparently having sucked on the marrow of the bone long enough, she tosses it into the flame.

Noah looks at her, then me and laughs. "You guys have never had rat soup? It's good."

Wren and I exchange glances, and she makes a half-assed chuckle, but I remain quiet as I look at the fire. I am so lucky to know Noah Lind, I really and truly am. Life in Twelve for him was obviously worse than it was for me, or Wren. In my case, however, it was because I might be considered 'privileged' when compared to most folks from Eight. Noah takes this opportunity to tell us more about the Seam, and District Twelve. Sounds like absolutely no one is anything even remotely close to privileged there.

"Alright," Wren is saying as she's looking at me like my mother might, expectant and demanding. "Come here, I've got to get a look at your injuries. You said they're not as bad as Noah's, but let me determine that."

As I pull my shirt off over my head, I release the gash in my side, and the old wound from Arko, and they whisper at me, exposed and raw. They both hurt, although not intensely. Just since this afternoon I have gotten used to the twinge in my side when I walk.

First she addresses the fresher wound at my side, and I shouldn't be surprised by the lightness of her touch, but I still am. I barely feel anything, apart from some a little something as she pours some hydrogen peroxide into it. It's coming from a small bottle that, after it's use on Noah and me, I can't imagine has much left. Feeling like I ought to say something as Noah seems to have gone off into his own quiet world over there, I start talking to Wren.

"We used that gunk that Noah got…"

"That's bacitracin." She counters quickly, as if I have any earthly idea what she's speaking of. "Helps prevent infection, although I'd like them to have given us something a little harder." Her voice comes up from my side as she gives my ribs a soft push, and I yield, lying on my side. "I don't know if this'll do anything…" she continues on, as she procures some kind of thing that…is it a stick of chalk?

"Hold still." She says.

"Don't hurt me." I counter.

Wren looks at me, a whisper of a smile on her lips. "Yeah, well watch it or I will. You're not bleeding any more, but I suppose it can't hurt. This is titanium sulfide, or anhydrous aluminum sulfate. It's alum, an anti-hemorrhagic."

Alright, so it stops blood flow. That might come in handy, I think to myself. Noah is watching us, now.

"Wow…you're like, really smart." Noah comes up with. I am sure he was serious, but his delivery is laughable.

All of us are laughing, and I luxuriate in it. I try to push it from my mind that I was in the same situation just yesterday. No wait, no I wasn't. Now I had meat in my belly. We had a fire. No one was crying anymore. Cynthia, for all of her sweetness, had been replaced by Wren who was fifty times more useful. This was the best things had been, since I began the 63rd Hunger Games.

Wren gets quiet and goes inspecting my arm. She's pressing around on it a bit, and it hurts…but nothing that I can't handle. Eventually I can't stand it any longer. "What?" I ask.

"Hmm…I don't want this to get infected, and it looks like it might be. I've got a dropper of iodine." She says.

"What's iodine?" I say.

Almost before the words are pushed from my mouth, a leeching, awful sting ruptures up from my wound, and pinches throughout my shoulder, all the wall to the ball of my arm. I think it's going to get better, but when it doesn't I find myself murmuring, "Shit. Shit…."

"Yeah, it's a bitch, ain't it?" Noah grins at me from across the way, now looking at us with moderate interest.

"Sorry…" she says and I don't have time to process why, before more stinging in my arm. Like needles poking at me from the inside out. "Let that set in, don't cover it up just yet."

"Mmm-hmmm…" I murmur from between my lips, and try watching the fire, Noah, anything to get my mind off the pain that is fissuring up from where Arko had stabbed me. I tap my foot, I sing in my head. I decided to save Wren the details of how I'd gotten it, but knowing her, she had probably already guessed.

After while, the pain has abated, and I sit upright, and once Wren is done working her magic, I am certain that if my wound did get infected, I couldn't be in any better hands than hers. I pull my t-shirt back on over my head, but allow it to pool around my neck, it feels good to have the warm from the fire on my bare skin. I notice that Wren is wearing shorts, but is donning a long-sleeved shirt, sort of the opposite of how Avella has set me up.

Though Wren is not tall, the glow of the fire turns her bare legs a smooth, warm color and I find myself appreciating their lie and shape. "Oh," I half laugh, "your toes are painted."

Wren blinks, and then pulls her legs in, sitting on them Indian style, as I can tell the expression on her face is a little embarrassed. "So what?" Her eyes search mine a bit doggedly, as I can tell she wants to smile but is forcing herself not to.

"So…nothing. I'm just saying." I remark, shrugging. It is not so much that I am ashamed that now it's obvious I might have been looking at Wren, but I am a little embarrassed. Reflexively I step my arms into the sleeves of my shirt, doing so gingerly. I don't really want to look at the girl from District Six right now. Certainly this is neither the time nor the place to go about noticing that Wren has nice legs, a pretty face, or anything else. There is a bit of reverberating awkward quiet between the two of us, and we both glance over to Noah.

Now it is his turn to say, "What?" with his lips pulling back into a jagged little smile. "I'm just over here minding my business."

"Well so are we." Wren says a little too quickly.

I clear my throat a bit, quite out of the feeling like I needed to, but it is horrific timing. I catch Noah's expression which is one I'd not received from him thus far. "I'll take the first shift staying awake, you guys."

"Oh sure, take the tender part for yourself." I chide him, unable to suppress a grin.

"Hey shut up dude, today was some heavy shit." Noah waltzes into, sounding more juvenile and unlike himself, but perhaps this is closer to how he actually is. Despite his jovial tone, he is still intensely bothered by what happened with Cynthia. It isn't even behind it's eyes, but right in front, lain bare for anyone to see.

We keep our fire going, but it is tricky because we don't want it roaring, but it has to be maintained enough so as not to go out. Once our meal had been cooked, it might seem prudent to let it die out, but all three of us seem to subconsciously recognize that we all take comfort from it.

"I am so happy I found you guys." Wren says, nodding solemnly at me, and then turning to offer Noah a smile.

I hope my mouth to say something but I am cut off by the cannon firing. This time, I am aware that a tribute hasn't died, but that the faces of the deceased will be projected into the night sky.

The first face projected up into the sky makes me almost choke. It is the visage of that long haired, silent guy from District Two, Stern! I goggle at this, while Noah lets out a little cry of surprise, not that I can blame him. The guy I figured would be my toughest competition, already dead on day two.

"Maybe the Careers decided to kill him." Noah says with a bit of glee. We shouldn't celebrate deaths, but when they are Careers, why the hell not? I myself am just in too much of a state of shock, to say anything.

The next face lights into the sky, and I am equally not ready to see it.

Her eyes so bright, the corners of her mouth turned up as if she's trying her best not to smile. Lurie Sampson from District Five looks down at us. To go from such a happy point, to such a sad one, I feel like my guts are still tumbling around. "Damnit." I say, and that seems to have summed it up for everyone. Little Lurie…Wren had said she'd survived the bloodbath, but apparently it hadn't bought the little girl with the light up dress too much extra time. Even if it was illogical in many ways, I had expected Lurie to do very well in these games.

I hope to see Sia from Seven, as payback for Lurie…but I do not. No more Careers have died today it would seem. Cynthia shows up next, smiling—actually smiling, right into whatever camera had taken this. Seeing her face fade from view as the anthem is played, I feel like all of the wind in my sails has been let out.

Cautiously, I take a glance over at Noah. His head is slung down, and he is very quiet. I know better than to tell him everything was alright, or to keep his chin up. Under the impossible circumstances of Cynthia's death, there was no good face to put on it. I myself almost want to cry, but I catch Wren looking at me in a quiet way and I'm glad I don't. It would figure that the news about Stern being gone, has to be marred by Lurie and Cynthia's deaths. They were perhaps the two sweetest of all of our tributes. Cynthia, I could only assume, felt no pain. Hopefully Lurie had came about her end as quietly and easily as possible.

Wren isn't saying anything, she is just shaking out the hair that had been braided, and now has a definite waviness to it. Probably out of good manners that she's staying quiet, but I wish she'd say something. Noah certainly isn't, so I suppose it falls to me to try and break the uncomfortable silence.

"Only three today. So there's four Careers left, and six of us. Could be worse." I say, and hope that Noah doesn't give me any looks. Graciously I see him shift around a bit, but he seems to be quite interested in the ground.

"Five Careers." Wren amends with a soft frown. "The three of us, plus Knox, Farah, and the guy from Ten."

"Haw." I say, remembering the guy who Cynthia had known before their reaping.

"Right…" Wren says and sighs a bit. "If the Careers are all still together, and let's assume they are, there is not much chance we've got against them. Even if Knox, Haw, and Farah are together, same exact thing goes for them."

Noah speaks from his nose, and it's more than clear he's crying. "Then we've got to find them. All of us can take on the Careers."

I can't help but exchange an uncertain glance with Wren, but I nod at my closest ally just the same. Noah was a better person than me, but that did not mean he was the greatest tactician. Even the three of us, plus Knox, Farah, and Haw were together, we might have a difficult time taking out all five of the remaining Careers. It did not matter that of those five, three of them were girls. Zayne the Amazon from Two had received a 10, and the pretty girl from One had scored a 9. I could not recall what that pretty girl Sia from Seven had posted. Regardless, these were not your run-of-the-mill kind of girls. They were backed by that huge guy from One…whose name escapes me right now, and the rat bastard from Four. It was cleansing in a way to take inventory, but it was also intimidating.

Me with my knife, Noah with his rock hammer, and Wren with a pair of scissors...come on. There wasn't a snowball's chance in the Arena that we were going to overcome the Careers. Alone, we might be able to pick one off. But even two of them, might be beyond us. Shit. Farah, where are you? If you're with Knox and Haw, please find us. Be safe…be smart.

I realize then that I was correct in thinking that I don't have any real skills to bring to the table. My strength lies in my adaptability, and the fact that I can keep track of a lot. Roman may be right, yet. These attributes might not serve me too well in many ways, but they helped keep me alive in the Arena.

Noah wasn't a slouch when it came to fighting, but he did not have the instincts that I'd been afforded, thanks to my Dad. That made me the most offensive threat of the three of us. "How are we going to take them out?" I say precisely what is on my mind.

"We could try to go back to Cornucopia, it really isn't all that far off…" Wren says wearily, "…except that it's nighttime and if the Careers are around, they can ambush us easily. You're right that we need to find Knox and the others, but they are probably playing the same game we are. Keep away from the Careers."

"Yeah…'cept that something's going to kill us sooner or later. We can't keep putting it off." Noah tells us.

I knew that his point was valid, but even more importantly, we wouldn't be able to face all five Careers in open battle. Probably not even two of them. Perhaps even one would get the best of us, depending on who that one was. I was getting so sick of all of this. It's extremely tiring to keep thinking about all these permutations in your head, trying to keep yourself alive, now I have allies to worry about too. I hope that Farah was with Haw, Knox, or both. If she was on her own, I would imagine her chances to living much longer are going to decrease.

We had all agreed to stay put for the remainder of the night. It was the safest thing to do, we collectively decided. Was it the smartest…not necessarily, but given all the unknown variables, it was the safest. Wren said that it would probably be best to keep two people awake, and let the third sleep. Noah wasn't too keen on the idea, but my sense of self preservation exceeded his own, by quite a bit I was realizing.

I had remained awake with Noah for the first shift, while Wren slept. He had been relatively quiet, but I had gotten him to realize that he had done the right thing with Cynthia. Whatever was wrong with her, it didn't seem like she was going to wake up under her own power. He never volunteered just how he'd killed her, and I wasn't going to ask. We discussed how we needed to trust Wren. He fully understood why I had been so hesitant to trust her at the start, but with the dwindling numbers putting the remaining tributes at just 11, our list of possible allies was very short.

He told me to lay down, and before I really realized what was happening, I was out like a light.

"Herod…" The whisper was soft, and I was certain it must've been in my head. It was after the third one, and the shaking of my arm, that I was roused from sleep. Very fortunately for me, sleep had always come to me rather easily. It was still dark as I make out the shape of Wren quite near me in the darkness. "Time to get up." She says.

You'd think that I would be groggy and entirely out of it, but the Arena heightens all your senses. Though you are burning through your brain cells fast, it seems that I don't require as much sleep. After shaking off a few remnants of stiff joints or cloudy thoughts, I realize that I am awake for good. I feel refreshed.

"Sorry…" she whispers to me, her face mostly visible due to moonlight, "the fire went out. I think Noah and I both fell asleep. It's been a while though. Look where the moon is…I think dawn can't be too far off."

Her whispering voice sends an odd feeling down the back of my neck, but I push this away as I creakily rise from where I'd be sleeping and join her further away from Noah, and what had once been our fire pit.

"Did you get enough sleep?" I ask her, as I stretch my arms back over my head and all the muscles clench and then release with a wonderful sensation.

"Yeah." A smile reflected back at me. "Thanks for asking." Her voice is still somewhere between whispering and just talking very softly. "I need to get a look at your arm again."

I mutter, but decide to sit down and let her have a look. She's disappeared from view, somewhere behind me. Wren's hands are near my waist, cupping at the bottom of my shirt, and as I raise my arms and she peels it off over me, my stomach is knocked silly. All sorts of squirmy sensations go spilling inside of me like scattered puzzle pieces.

I lower my arms and grow quiet, but I am very aware that one of her hands is on my shoulder blade, pushing me forward ever-so-slightly, then the other must be removing the bandage. My brain is still fuzzy and I can't seem to concentrate on anything but where Wren is, what she's saying, what's she doing.

"I'll spare you the iodine, you big baby." Her voice licks up the side of my neck, and twists into my ear. I feel every part of my body starting to become more acute. It's like my epidermis is covered with caterpillar legs, and every last one of them is starting to march. There is something wet on my shoulder, but it doesn't hurt.

"Just peroxide." Wren says, her fingers still feather light as she tends to me.

I say, "You ever think about becoming a nurse?"

"My dad," she pauses, and then starts sticking the bandage back down, or perhaps replacing it with a new one, I can't be sure, "was a doctor. Mom always liked medicine too, but she is too good with figures for them not to make her deal with inventory."

"My dad was a Peacekeeper."

"He show you how to fight?"

It is becoming exceedingly easy to fall into conversation with Wren. Most of the squirminess has subsided and I start to like the feel of her hands on or around my arm and shoulder. Wondered what her hands might feel like if I were stripped to the waist under more felicitous circumstances. I find myself nodding, extremely preoccupied with her. I remember to move my lips. "Yeah."

"I've taken fencing lessons, but that was a few years back. That sword that Gage got…it looked like it would've suited me just fine. That bastard."

Takes me a moment to remember that Gage is the male tribute from District One.

I grin and I can't help but like how Wren's hands are done with my arm, but one has slid down and is lightly in the crook of my elbow, fingers draped over my upper arm. "Everything looking alright?" I say, though the middle of my stomach feels like it keeps turning to ice at the most inopportune times.

"Yeah…" she sounds distracted, probably still inspecting me, "I think it's going to be ok. You are strong, you heal fast."

Now Wren's hand has dropped away from me, but I turn my head and look half over my shoulder where she is. She just blinks at me, filling my eyes for a moment or two, before she drops them and hands me my shirt. "Maybe…" Her tone change completely and it's very apparent whatever she was about to say, has been scrapped. "Maybe we can get up and try to forage for some stuff at the Cornucopia, before sunrise?"

I slither back into my shirt, which, coincidentally I believe is quite well-made. Nicer than any of the stuff the factory I work at produces. "Sure. Um…" I've lost my train of thought. "Yeah, let me just go wake Noah up."

"No, let him sleep." A small shake of her head, and this sends a braid that was coiled down over her shoulder. In the starlight I can see that she's now gotten two braids in her hair. One is thicker than the other, but they are knotted very tightly. That is a good thing, I am certain. Don't want her hair getting caught in anything, or being able to be yanked.

"What, you meant just the two of us?" I say, surprised.

"What?" she says at normal volume, before remembering to keep a hushed tone, "no, no. I only meant that if Noah wakes up soon, we might think about it."

"Oh. Alright." I am slightly confused, but by the look on her face, she doesn't seem entirely sure of much herself. "Listen, I'm sorry…"

She pinches her lips together, and I watch gaze draw up from my chin to my own. Her mouth is smaller and delicate, while her nose is, for lack of a better term, cute.

"About yesterday." I manage, as my intestines seem to be writhing around inside of me, making it damn near impossible to just sit still, be quiet, and have a normal conversation with Wren.

"It's forgiven." A pause then, "Thanks for not killing me." She whispers with a sardonic little smile that makes my whole body wind up and expunge a soft, 'heh' of my own. It is an involuntary reaction.

Wren is still smiling when she tells me that she is allergic to bees. "Just figured someone ought to know. If I am going into anaphylactic shock, there isn't a lot you can do…so…" a feminine shrugging of her shoulders, causing her remaining braid to spill around to the front.

"Annie Phil...what?"

Now Wren laughs and her entire mouth explodes in a showing of teeth, a closed-mouthed chuckle at the back of her throat as she shakes her head again. "Nothing, lets just avoid bees if we can, ok?"

"Deal."

One of her eyebrows raises up at me as the chuckle is very slowly dying from her face. "Anything you're allergic to?"

"Cats make me feel a little stuffy, but not that I know of." I say. It's the truth. I guess I am just lucky like that but I am not aware of any allergies. "Guess I'm perfect like that."

"Guess you are." She says with a soft smile.

I am suddenly very aware of the crickets, and the chirp of other various insects. It is a little cooler at night, but the weather in the Arena is anything but pleasant. I am flirting, aren't I? How did that happen?

Just when I thought we were going to continue on this light hearted track we'd been going down, Wren decides to flip the script a bit. "When I met Farah, I knew she and I would be the last girls alive."

I try to process this, but all I can come up with is a bizarre expression. First of all I was partially getting whiplash from the subject change, but weren't there…two, no three, female Careers left?

"On our side, I mean." She tells me, as if reading my mind. "Farah is smart."

Now I am pulled from thinking about Wren, and into the realm of Farah. This makes me feel shady, like talking with Wren was going behind her back, somehow. Of course it was not, but that feeling still lingered in me. "Yeah, she is."

"No one who is left, is a dud. They're all dead." Wren tells me, blue eyes meeting mine, before she makes a face that is hard to read. "Seems like some tribute who wasn't too spectacular would've survived, just by luck…or something."

"You afraid it's going to get worse?" I say.

For maybe the first time, Wren looks fragile. Not scared, or upset, but crumbly and uncertain. "Yeah." She leans in closer to me, and forces a smile. "Of course it's going to get worse. You and I are real people. We know what's going to happen. Everything is going to turn to complete shit. Even if we manage to kill the Careers, then that just leaves us to kill one another. I don't want to kill you, Herod."

"Then don't." I say with a scraping of a smile, attempting my absolute best to diffuse the situation.

Wren explodes in laughter, though I can see in her eyes it's only because she doesn't want to cry. She lurches forward and flings her arms around me, pulling me into a hug.

My arms encircle her right back as I take in the smell of her body, and the feel of it. It's just a hug…a desperate one at that, but I enjoy it. Is that wrong of me? My body is tingling, way more than it ought to from a damned hug. It is not until she starts sliding back, that I realize just how tightly I'd been holding onto her. We look at one another and there is a thread connecting us now, invisible but strong. I watch her for a few long moments. Under any other circumstances it may have been uncomfortable, or at the very least bizarre, but I don't care. She felt good in my arms, more than good, really. I want to hug her again, feel her arms sliding around me. All I can do is sit there and watch her, following her eyes toward the skies.

"I wish I'd known you outside of here," Wren says, eyes still on the stars.

Yeah I know. I don't say it except in my head.

"Maybe we can work something out." She says both sadly and coyly. A defeated look on her face, but there is a determination there as well. She wasn't giving up anytime soon. I draw strength from that.

I catch myself smiling at her, unable to control it. "Yeah, maybe."