A/N: Apologies for lateness. I hope the awesomeness makes up for it :)

~10~

I follow the career pack to their temporary camp-out. It is just a large, flat rock with a good view of the surroundings. I keep it to myself, but it is a struggle to keep up with them, four relatively unharmed, physically fit kids. And I am so exhausted I could pass out, and my bites burn dully, unrelenting.

The Careers settle down. No one talks, but they all have an eye on me. I know I should be talking precautions. I know I should be ready for any kind of attack from them, now, when I am most vulnerable. But no one seems to be in the mood for secret plans. They all seem to be just as tired as I am. I lay down on the rock, my body aching, not daring to peal off any of the patched holes to check on the state of my wounds. I lay off to the side. It isn't my ideal resting spot, so out in the open and vulnerable, but I have a good view each of my new companions. And each of them can see me.

I force myself to stay conscious until I know some of them are asleep, then, as soon as I let my eyes close, sleep is instantaneous.

~.~

I wake with a start. It feels like early morning but I can never be so sure in this arena. The water, I notice for the first time, is icy cold and I shiver. Or maybe it is the handful of holes still left in my suit that has made me more susceptible to it.

The Careers are splayed out across the rock. All of them seem to be asleep. My body aches with stiffness and my stomach aches with hunger.

Thinking of my meager store of food I roll over slowly and reach for my pack. But then I stop. From a crook in his black-suited arm I see Siris's pale gray eyes watching me. Not wanting to make him think that I am planing on running away or taking them out as they all sleep, I prop myself up on my elbow, stare right back at him. I hadn't noticed before because of the darkness, but covering the length of the side of Siris's face is a trail of pink, rounded welts. A quick look around confirms that the others have similar lacerations. In the back of my mind I remember something they'd said the night before, about a certain problem. A problem they want me to solve. I had been so tired, I realize I never found out what it is.

"So, what is this 'problem' you were talking about last night?" I ask Siris, quietly as to not wake the others. A few fish dart between us in a flash of silver.

Siris props his head up on his arm. Studies me. "Some monster of a creature has taken up residence in the cornucopia," he says finally. "We haven't been able get at any of the supplies for the past couple days. We've been living off seaweed like bottom-feeders."

That would explain why Delta said that they were all starving.

"So you haven't had any food? I thought you and Delta were fishers of some kind, being from Four."

"Oh, sure," he replies seriously, "but have you ever tried catching a fish with just a knife, or even your bare hands? It's not easy. Especially underwater like this. And when that thing showed up...well, it was one of those 'drop everything and get your ass out of there' kind of situations."

"Oh..." That makes me feel uneasy. What kind of creature would be dangerous enough that a pack of careers couldn't kill it?

"Well," Siris continues with a sideways look, "We figured you'd offer some insight on how to get rid of it, seeing as you're so quick to come up with plans..."

"So you want me to help get rid of it?"

"That's right."

I narrow my eyes. Siris is so difficult to read. "Then after that," I say slowly, sardonically, "are you just going to try to kill me again...then, when you're done with me?"

Siris rolls onto his back and looks up to the rippling, blue-white surface. To his side Delta has started to stir. The others are beginning to wake. "Who knows," he says finally, "you may prove to be more useful alive rather than dead."

~.~

"It's in there head first," Siris is explaining. "It's impossible to reach its body when it's wedged in like that. You get anywhere near the opening and its tentacles shoot out and try to strangle you."

The five of us are gathered around the base of the metal pillar that supports the cornucopia, craning our necks to see the great golden horn above us. All the supplies that were tethered around it have been moved - presumedly into the cornucopia. The cornucopia where some fearsome monster now lurks.

I swallow. Try to think. I've been feeling the sleep deprivation all morning and it weighs me down. Worst of all, my bites, the red and fleshy white of my torn skin, are threatening infection. Some kind of antibiotic and proper bandages are the first thing I will look for once the creature is out...if I'm still alive...

"...Then if you manage to get any closer-" Siris continues.

"-None of us could get any closer," interrupts Blythe, rubbing at the welts on her cheek.

"We'd chop off its tentacles," Ares adds. "But there'd always be more."

I wipe at the lenses of my goggles. "Well," I say slowly. "It's too protected in there for us to fight it. We'll need to lure it out."

"With what, exactly?" Blythe narrows her eyes.

I look right at her and make sure not to blink. I remember reading somewhere that that's how wild animals show dominance and strength. "The only thing we've got: ourselves," I respond.

"Sounds like a great way to get us all killed," she shoots back, not meeting my gaze.

"No, that's good," Siris says. "We need to get at the body."

I nod. "A couple of us will lure it out - aggravate it, and then, unless it has tentacles growing out of its face, it'll be an easy target from the back for the rest of us."

"Siris and I are the best swimmers," says Delta. "We'll bate it."

"And we'll get 'em from the back," Ares grins. Bloodthirsty. They all are. Even Siris cracks a smile.

"It's hunting time," he says.

There are only a few weapons between them. Blythe's forked spear. Ares's cutlass. Delta carried some kind of short staff with a spear-like blade at the end, and Siris pulled a dagger from his belt. And I had my knife, somewhat small and insignificant in comparison.

"Give me your knife," Delta says at once. "You'll need the larger weapon."

I don't hesitate to switch but the spear feels strange and unnerving in my hands. Delta catches my expression and she smirks, eyes bright.

"Never fought something like this before, have you?"

"None of us have," Siris says pointedly. He taps his blade against the pole, the clink sound is hard and tinny. "Everyone set on their positions? Yes? ...Okay, let's go."

My heart starts to race as we begin to swim upward. Upward. Siris and Delta split off and Ares, Blythe and I slowly ascend the side of the cornucopia and perch ourselves on the top, overlooking the mouth.

Siris and Delta keep their distance at first, a little ways apart, they look to each other and communicate with hand gestures I've never seen.

Then they close in, slowly, inching forward, gripping their knives, ready to spring.

They're no more than ten feet from the mouth when the first, massive, purplish tentacle shoots out like a spear between them and curls back ready to snag them both, but the two are ready for it. Shooting back, they dodge the tentacle and then the next one, moving swiftly and almost gracefully. The next tentacle that shoots out - Siris lashes out at it, and the next and the next, dodging, swiping, a dance of tribute, blade, and monster.

Then a low, eerie wailing starts up from inside the cornucopia. It's a sound I recognize, from out in my solitude, from my second night in the arena. I remember it echoing. Traveling through the depths. And this...this is where it must have ended up.

"It's getting annoyed," I shout over the sound. "Get ready!"

Siris and Delta shoot farther and farther back, jabbing knives into its skin at every opportunity, and the creature stretches and reaches for them, trying to swat them away like bothersome flies. Slowly, it begins to slide out, inch by inch. I grip the spear tightly to stop my hands from shaking. I am not looking forward to this. I am dreading it. Here we go...

The creature... It's some kind of massive squid...but squid aren't the thickness of a train...squid don't have gaping jaws with six-inch teeth or make such a horrible, almost mechanical sounding wail. This creature is far from natural.

With battle cries, Ares and Blythe attack the squid's cone-shaped body with fierce lashes. I make to follow, but I notice that something is wrong almost immediately. The squid's innards are protected by what could only by a deep purple and grey spotted exoskeleton. The Career's weapons collide with it over and over but they just grate off its side. Meanwhile, tentacles writhe everywhere. Everything is confusion. Delta - it might not have been Delta - screams. I'm on the verge of panic. This plan...it has to work! It has to work, or I am good as dead.

Then I catch sight of the great, staring, yellow eye. It's massive, the size of my head. The eye, that's it! Without another thought, I lunge with my spear, adrenalin carrying me forward, just as Ares and Blythe maneuver themselves into the danger of the tentacles to get at the unprotected belly, my spear plunges deep into the center of the creature's eye. The squid lets out a terrible screaming sound. Inky-black liquid gushes from it. Its limbs flail uncontrollably and the water churns and I can't see a thing through the back ink and I've let go of the spear and am struggling to get away when a tentacle catches me, the air crushed out of me as I'm catapulted through the water and empty space.

I'm completely dazed and turned around. I don't know which way is up. The water is filled with the writhing and howling of the creature until I catch a glimpse of it as it shoots out of the black cloud it created and careens away into the blue, trailing black and blood.

Then all is silent. Except for the sound of my breathing and the wailing, growing fainter and fainter into the distance.

As the black cloud starts to thin and diffuse, I can make out my allies picking themselves up, regrouping. I swim towards them.

"Report," calls Siris.

"Fantastic!" Booms Ares from the top of the cornucopia, with a large grin despite the fact that he's sporting four new nasty looking scrapes at his knees and elbows.

"No one dead?" Blythe says with an edge of disappointment which I can't help but feel is directed at me.

"No one," I say back.

"I guess the Gamemakers weren't too keen on having that thing kill us so soon," Siris says.

And then Delta makes a noise and we all look at her. A large tear in her suit stretches from her neck to her shoulder, and underneath, we're all quick to notice, a deep gash bleeds profusely.

"Looks like Squidy got someone after all," says Ares with glee.

"Oh, shut up," Delta hisses. She clenches her teeth as she presses on it with her palm. "It's nothing."

It is obviously not nothing. It is bleeding too much to be nothing. Ares and Blythe just shrug and head off into the cornucopia to dig out their sorely missed food and supplies. Siris and I hang back.

"There'll be med stuff inside," Siris says to her.

"Yeah, I know," Delta replies curtly.

"You can patch it up alright, don't worry about it."

"I got it, Siris." She grimaces, and I know she's holding back. That she's in a lot of pain, but isn't showing it. That she's terrified that this will lead to her end, but has to be tough.

I get a good look at the wound myself and I know without needing to be any sort of medic that it is too deep to just patch up. It needs to be stitched.

Delta shakes her head, her long black braid waving like a fish behind her. "Let's get some food, I'm starved," she says but her lightheartedness is forced.

We dig through the supplies, but I don't look for food like the others, despite my gnawing hunger. I look for a med kit. But not for me. My bites are harmless in comparison, and I can tell Delta's initial strength is fading. But all I find is a container of bandages and rubbing alcohol, which is perfect for me, but not for any serious wounds.

Around me, others pack into the packages of dried meat and corn mush similar to what I had, pealing off and reattaching their masks with each bite. Blythe lazily picks through weapons. Ares works on his cutlass. Siris and Delta sit on the rim of the horn, talking quietly. I swim over to them.

"There isn't much in the way of meds," I say.

"I noticed," Delta replies humorlessly.

"Your sponsors'll come through," Siris says reassuringly.

"Wouldn't count on it," she says darkly.

"A needle and tread doesn't cost a fortune, Delta."

Suddenly, I remembered the contents of my own pack. The spool of plastic thread. The fish bones I had collected so long ago. And I remembered reading once that in ancient cultures before the era that was before the Dark Days even, needles were made from fish bones.

But... I think, is this something I really want to do? As I pick up my pack, I fight a secret battle of morals. My survival counted on the rest of the tributes being killed. In the interest of my life I should really just step back and let Delta bleed. It would be one less threat in the end.

But I know, almost at once, that I can't let that happen. Even if she happens to be my worst enemy, I can't go about watching her suffer when I can do something about it. The pain on her face is too much like the pain on the laborers' faces back home, with backs bent to breaking, pulling a fifteen-hour shift to feed families. It is like the pain on the faces of the children that had no food in their bellies for days, who slept out in the streets because their parents had worked themselves into their graves.

Delta isn't my enemy. None of them are. My real enemy sits in plush robes in fancy homes on the other side of the television screen.

So I grit my teeth, close my eyes. "I can sew it," I say.

I smooth a fish bone, one that had a chink in the end, on the textured surface of the horn until it's even and sharp. I squirt some of the alcohol into one of the bandages and roll the bone onto it until it is as clean as it will get. Then I take a length of the thread, snag it on the spit end and turn to Delta.

"This isn't necessary," she says defiantly, eyes narrowed. "Do you even know what you are doing?"

"Yes, it is," I reply flatly. "And yes, I have sewn before."

She's weak enough that she doesn't put up any more of a fight, so with a deep breath, I sew up the gaping wound to the best of my ability.

And it's then that I realize that it doesn't matter, in the long run, if I survive or not, if I ever see my home and family again. Those things...they are selfish things. And as powerless as I am in this great expanse of arena, I know that what really matters is not how or by whom my peers are killed so that I may live, but that I don't let myself become the Gamemaker's toy, to be manipulated and played with. I don't want to be just another one of their victims. The Capitol is the only real enemy in this game.