A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Cold and weary. Lost and tired. Uncaring and hopeless. She trudged on, ignoring the plight as best as she could. It had only been one night, the sky not yet light up, yet she knew she would spend many, many more here. The start of her journey was barely remembered, the countdown long forgotten, and the blood on her hands washed off but not faded. This was the plight of the lost girl, far away from the only home she had ever known…

Today, the others elected that Quip and I go out to do the Tribute hunting. All of them were positive that we had received a fairly easy bunch, and they should, quote, "rest up for the feast…not that we need it." So, the two of us grabbed some weapons, I getting more and more familiar with my throwing stars. I'd practiced with them the other day, since there didn't seem to be quite anything to do. Quip didn't seem to particularly care what weapon he took, grabbing a few knives and a spear for good measure. When Caine saw he was taking his favorite one, the one with the gold tip, he made him swear to bring it back in good condition. Of course, that meant that the blood of any Tribute had to be cleaned off of the spear properly and thoroughly.

We trudged through the city, peering inside the windows and occasionally entering the buildings. However, everything we found was scare and in horrible condition; it wouldn't be of much use for us. Still, Quip insisted on adding the broken nails, mauled hairbrush, and feeble compass with us. He either knew some sort of use for them, or he felt safer with more supplies on hand.

"Let's go upstairs," Quip suggested, "The better stuff is probably higher up…and the hiding spots for Tributes."

I glanced at him, "You don't sound too sure about that."

In the drag concrete building, he didn't seem as confident as before. Quip looked paler that usually, washed out even. His damp curly hair hung in his eyes, perfectly hiding them from view, with the exception of when he brushed them aside. I wondered if he was sick, which was never a good sign in the Games, yet he carried himself as if he was healthy. Either way, it gave me a funny feeling in my stomach that I wouldn't see him around too much longer.

"Look, it's a strategic position! We want to attain the high ground! Everyone knows that," he replied rudely, rolling his eyes a bit at the end.

Sighing a bit, I allowed him to walk up the stairs. I carefully glanced around, taking in note of each and every feature, though what I didn't notice that the door was now closed. When we went inside the building, we had left it open, in case one of us were to be separated. If only I had remembered, what happened next could have been avoided.

Trudging up the stairs, neither of us really talked to one another. A content silence grew, more and more, until it felt rude to even talk to one another. It didn't really matter that much to us; in the Games, friendliness would only be a weakness. I reluctantly resigned to that matter, not getting the chance to unravel the mysteries behind this peculiar boy. Knowledge came with a price, especially here. If anyone thought otherwise, they'd only need to see what I see. They'd then see the blood stained walls, horrifically looking fresh to the naked eye. Others could peacefully wonder what happened here, and even take a vacation to this very spot to participate in a reenactment. I absolutely hated that each year; dozens upon dozens of people would reenact my sister's death, even having the nerve to portray her. What I dreaded, possibly despised, even more was that in less than a year's time, people may be doing the very same thing for me.

When we reached the top of the building, a hatch allowed us access to the roof. Without saying anything, each of us climbed out and gazed around us. It was exhilarating, being up this high, being able to see the entire arena. The vast sea, a deep blue color, thrashed and turned like one might on a sleepless night. I didn't even have to squint to see the tiny tropical oasis, no doubt serving as a shelter for Amy. I pondered why she would have left, since she was killed just last night; I may never know. I bet Jade knew though, I realized, recalling how she came back to camp smelling of salt water and sea breeze. Hopefully she'd survive this day; our odds weren't looking all too good, our original eight dwindling down to five on the third day.

"It seems so big…," Quip started, "We're tiny, Caitlyn. We're so tiny."

Glancing at each other, his brown eyes had a strange intensity to them that I had never seen before. This time, he didn't seem sickly at all, standing strong and bold. The weight of the world looked like it was on his shoulders, which I knew better than to assume that it wasn't. If either of us made one wrong move, it could cost us our lives. Tenderly, I touched the wound in my stomach, sighing slightly as a tiny bit of the sticky red substance left traces on my fingers. It wouldn't be too long until I bled to death; I was extremely lucky Jade had been able to slow down the bleeding, if not stop it completely.

"If we die here, we die here. If we die out there, we die out there. It doesn't matter one bit when and where we die. And we all know it," he paused, "Don't look like that! One of these days, the plant will have a meltdown. Someone will wire red to blue instead of red to red. It'll happen, and we won't know its coming. We're all mortal. We're all going to die…I don't care anymore. I never did and I never will…."

I found myself gasping slightly, yet not for the reason Quip thought. He adverted his gaze, now looking out at the nearly endless ocean. If only I knew where in the world we were, I thought, even though I knew very well that it wouldn't matter. We were lucky that the nights were all right and the days were fair weather; in other years, Tributes had died from overheating and the opposite. So far, the biggest challenge we've had this Games was finding a source of water. Among the Cornucopia pickings, there wasn't anything to purify the saltwater with, and I vaguely remembered that boiling it might make it okay. Yet I also had reasons as to why it wouldn't work out. In the end, we decided we'd only try that as a last resort, and hope that we'd find a lake or pond somewhere soon.

"We're tiny, Caitlyn. I can see the whole world and we are puny…," his eyes were brown, "We're like cockroaches, spiders, or flies…We only exist for their use. And then when they're done with us…they kill us! We aren't going home! Not ever!" they were the same color of my father's, "Not! Ever! We're just ants! Puny, tiny, little playthings!"

And that's when the complete unexpected happened. One moment, Quip was standing next to me. He was hunched over, seething with anger, and I knew her must have been seeing red. If anyone tried to attack him right now, it'd be their undoing. Truly, this must have been why the Careers allowed him to join their alliance. It still didn't answer the question as to why I was allowed in, but I pushed that out of mind now. He wasn't Quip Colkdin anymore; he hadn't been for a while. Quip Colkdin died at home, he died in District Three; the person here wasn't Quip. That person was a Career Tribute, one who would do anything he had to do to survive, until he finally decided that enough was enough.

A small girl, her ginger hair catching the almost nonexistent sunlight, appeared from the hatch. Looking around, her bright blue eyes met my brown eyes, narrowing slightly. Disappearing back into the building, Quip didn't notice the lithe little thirteen year old until it was too late. She came back with a dagger, throwing it at my District Partner. Stumbling, it was lodged in his shoulder, his glasses flying off so he had no idea where and what he was looking at.

He fell off of the building.

"QUIP!" I cried, running towards the edge in a desperate attempt to grab him.

Alas, my efforts were near futile. He plummeted like a stone, hitting the ground with a sickening crack. I could already tell that he was bleeding, and logic told me that his injuries were worse than mine. Panicking, I turned around just into to here the knife sail right past my head, actually cutting off a bit of my blonde hair. I would have minded a little bit, if I wasn't too freaked out and deathly frightened for my life. The girl threw another knife at me, giving me almost no time to gather my wits or to even remember the name of my opponent.

Reacting by reflex, I ducked, maneuvering myself as far away from the edge as possible. I didn't want to end up like Quip, whom I thankfully reminded myself wasn't dead; we would have heard a cannon by now if he was. In a split second, I was able to tell that the girl, Lily, I finally remembered, had only three more lives. That meant she could try to kill me three more times before she'd have to use another technique; I wasn't all too sure if that was in my favor or not.

"So…You're what's passed off as a Career these days," Lily said mockingly, "Big whoop."

Raising an eyebrow, I flicked my wrist, sending three throwing stars at the red haired girl from District Five. All of them hit, yet it didn't seem to faze her at all. After some quick analysis, I discovered I was off on my mark, just striking where it would hurt, but wouldn't cause her to bleed to death. In retaliation, she sent another one of her knives at me, nicking my already wounded arm. I won't deny that it hurt, yet I also won't admit to whimpering a bit as the cut from before was reopened.

"…I'm Caitlyn Smith from District Three," I told her, "I'm just as much of a person as you."

Lily seemed a bit surprised, taking a hesitant step backwards. Fortunately and unfortunately, I took this to my advantage, this time successfully hitting her with a throwing star. She bent over slightly, blood spewing out as I charged at her, snatching up the fallen knife from the ground. I looked right into her eyes, feeling as if I could see her very light dim and her aura fade as I drove the blade through her stomach. After what felt like ages, she dropped to the ground, pale and covered in the color red, the timing of it in perfect sync with her cannon.

I fell to my knees, cradling the dead body of the girl in my arms. She didn't deserve to die, no one did. Wishing I could pay my respects, I mumbled a silent pray for her to be at peace and gently closed her eyes. Her ginger hair was slipping out of its braid, and I figured the people of District Five might actually prefer that I'd fix it. At least it might not be some Capitol worker who treated the body; a fellow Tribute seemed more appropriate. Finally, I gently laid her down on the concrete, quietly climbing down the hatch and back inside the building, as if I'd disturb her spirit.

"Tell me Lily, what's your opinion of the Capitol?"

"For someone who is going to kill us, you could have done a h*** of a better job!"

"…What's your family like?"

"It's quite large...My father is a bit of a hero, same with my aunt and uncle…We're all very close."

"Mind telling us what they said when you were reaped?"

"They told me they loved me…And they'd burry me in white roses."

When I reached Quip, it was clear to me that he'd die soon. All of his limbs were jutting out at odd angles and he was sporting a nasty gash on the head. By the positioning of his left hand, I deduced that he had tried to roll into a ball as he fell. Luckily, it managed to save his life, yet it only left him in what must have been withering agony. I kneeled down next to him, mixing in his blood with Lily's blood and my own. My shirt turned the darkest black possible, something that would have seemed sickening before. All I cared about right now was wherever this boy would live or die. It didn't matter if he was crazy, bipolar, rich, poor, sweet, or weird; he was my District Partner. The one person that would have to be taken away from me, and only now had I realized that I didn't want him to go. I didn't want to say goodbye to him.

"C-Cait…Lyn…," he muttered, "Are w-we dead?"

Brushing away a few tears, though really only smearing blood on my face, I answered, "No…At least not yet…"

He let out a sputtering cough, more of the thick red substance emerging from him, "W-Would ya look at that…"

Quip was grinning oddly, making me worry that he had finally crossed the line into insanity. Of course, I'd never know if he had or had not. I never really knew Quip Colkdin, I just knew the District Three male in the Seventy Third annual Hunger Games in the, supposed, fair county of Panem. Those two people were most likely extremely different, as I knew that I wouldn't have dreamt of killing, yet I could now feel the blood I was covered in. Somewhere, someplace, someone was grieving because of what I did, because of what I had to do to survive. I just hoped that they wouldn't always hate me, and that I'd make it out of this nightmare alive. If their love ones had to die from my hands, let it not of been in vain. Let one of us live, let one of us return and rise again!

I felt his head shift in my lap, a malevolent laugh spraying me in a fine coat of his blood once more. I'd never seen this much red in my lifetime, and I hoped that I wouldn't ever have to again. Either way, there was a good chance that I wouldn't have to. If I was dead, well, I'd get to relax in a peaceful afterlife. If I was the Victor, I could just close my eyes during the future Hunger Games' and refuse to be a Mentor; it was that easy.

"…I-I am puny…You are p-puny…," Quip stuttered, breaking into a smirk, "We all are p-puny…"