Chapter 19: Trials and Tribulations

I wake up to someone jostling my shoulder. Looking up blurrily, I realize that it's Nerissa.

"Get up, Twelve. Time to go."

The urgency in her voice draws any remnants of sleep from my body. I'm on my feet in a second, frantically looking for danger. I come up with nothing. Mace and Cato stand off to the side looking up to the sky, their shoulders tense and their jaws clenched to the point of looking painful. There's a cut above Cato's eyebrow that matches the one on my cheek, and it's clear to me what the source is. Confusion tugs at me as I watch the leaves fall to the ground.

"Check the snare," Cato commands.

I don't have to be told twice. I practically run to it. There's an animal hanging from the snare, but I move too quickly to register anything other than the fact that I don't immediately recognize it. The wind blows harshly, and I feel a stinging sensation across my face. Frowning, I pick the offending object up, wincing slightly when it cuts across my finger. The edges of the leaf are toothy and sharp, serrated like the knives I've used so often. I toss it away and grab for the animal. I register a brief feeling of disgust as I stuff it into the pack with the wire for the snare, but it passes and I don't spare the animal another thought before taking off again.

Everyone is in the same spot I left them, collecting their weapons and looking ready to bolt. The leaves fall rapidly now, the trees almost completely bare. The temperature has dropped considerably since yesterday and the sky has taken on a gray color, the sun nowhere in sight. I don't know what to make of it except for the fact that it is no doubt a design of the Gamemakers. I wish I knew more about this climate, because something tells me that this is only going to get worse.

"What the hell is happening?" Mace asks as the wind begins to blow once again.

I bite my lip to keep from wincing when I feel another leaf slice across my face.

Cato turns to me and asks, "Is that what happened to your face last night?"

I send him a nod. "It's the leaves. They've been modified. The edges are like razors."

The wind picks up.

Nerissa says, "We should find safer ground."

The Gamemakers chose that moment to blow a particularly harsh wind, and we all move to shield ourselves from the onslaught. I can feel them slice across my hands. I'm not confused anymore, just afraid. What else is wrong with these leaves? Poison, maybe? Either way I don't intend to stick around and find out.

A few moments later, the wind dies down. I squint up at the treetops. There seems to be a whole new layer of razor sharp leaves just waiting for the wind to blow them loose. It's like they're being produced out of thin air. No, not thin air, I tell myself. They're being produced by the Capitol, by the Gamemakers.

"Why don't we just head back to the Cornucopia?" Nerissa asks. "They're aren't any trees there."

Cato shakes his head "There's no point in heading back to the Cornucopia. There's nothing there. We'll keep heading west."

He's probably right. There was nothing but a weapons rack and some backpacks there. Besides, who knows what they have planned for tributes that try to take shelter there. All it takes is a little push and you're dead at the bottom of the canyon.

"Fine," she replies just as the wind picks up again. "Let's just get out of here."

None of us speaks much after that. I try my best to block the razor-like leaves, but I feel them against my skin nonetheless. The cut itself hurts no more than a paper cut, but I know they cover my hands. Open wounds are never a good thing in the Games, no matter how small they are. I really don't want to get another infection.

We're walking for no more than a half an hour before the wind takes on new power. I stagger to the side, the force of it practically blowing me over. My alliance doesn't seem to be faring much better. My eyes sting and begin to water as the wind dries them out. Between that and the leaves swirling throughout the air, it's difficult to see more than ten feet in front of me. The nerve endings in my body come to life, but I force myself to remain calm. Or at least I try to. It's hard though because this is the perfect setup for an attack. Distractions, low visibility… it could all mean something very bad. Uncertainty tugs at me, but I keep pushing forward. Danger or no, standing still is never a good idea.

"I think I see a clearing up ahead!" Mace yells.

I look to where he's pointing, but it's useless. I can't see anything. But Cato must, because he takes off in that direction. I follow without hesitation. I may not trust him, but he wouldn't walk into a situation if he thought it was a trap. And if it is… well, the three of them will walk into the clearing before me, so whatever it is will get them first.

We all stumble our way over there. I smell it before I see it. It's putrid, like sewage mixed with sweat. I gag on the scent.

"What the hell is that smell?" Nerissa coughs out as the wind dies down.

No one answers her as we stumble forward. We're there in a matter of seconds, breaking through the tree line and finally free of the sharp leaves. I take in the sight before me. There's a small waterfall that drops into murky green water. There are trees that curve and bend over the area, some even emerging from within the water's cloudy depths, but they appear to have shed all of their leaves already. The swamp isn't too big, maybe fifty yards in diameter, but it flows into a narrow river. The water looks like it travels into nothing but the gray sky. I can tell it's a cliff, though, because those large white birds squawk and swoop down every few seconds. I don't want to know what lurks over the edge.

Mace strides past me, getting a better look at the area. "Well at least there's water."

Nerissa scoffs. "I'm not drinking this stuff. Do you smell that? It's disgusting."

Mace just shrugs in response. As much as I hate to admit it, Nerissa is probably right. Even if the smell isn't indicative of anything, I can't believe that this water is drinkable. It's dirty and no doubt infested with something dangerous. And besides that, it's too easy. More than anything, it's the accessibility that tells me that it's not safe to drink. Nerissa's backpack has a water bottle, but no iodine pills. Easy accessibility, desperation, and a lack of resources are not a good mix.

There's a loud buzzing in my ears as I take a few steps closer to the water. Bugs. Tiny gnats and large flies that swarm all around the water. I immediately take a step back, but my team members only wander further.

"Don't get too close to the water," I say. All three turn to look at me, equally confused and suspicious looks on their faces. "We have too many cuts. Insects and open wounds aren't a good combination."

I regret the words when they leave my mouth. If they're going to keep doing stuff to get themselves killed, I really shouldn't stop them.

They take a step back, apparently convinced by my comment.

"What do we do now? We need water and there is no way I'm drinking that stuff," Nerissa says, pointing a finger at the swamp with a look of disgust on her face. "We need to make a plan."

I'm impressed by her for a moment. She seems to be thinking ahead for once. Only mildly, though. I can only be so impressed by someone who wants me dead.

I try to ignore the sound of the flies buzzing and the birds squawking as we attempt to form some type of plan. They all look miserable at the prospect. I'm sure it's because Careers aren't used to this kind of thing. The only thing they need to worry about is finding other tributes. Everything else is practically handed to them.

"Hey, birdy. Can you get us some food while we do this? I'm starting to get hungry."

I send Mace a blank look, but I make no comment to indicate that I want to do otherwise. None of us have eaten since last night and I can feel my stomach rumble uncomfortably. I drop the backpack to the ground and pull the dead animal from within it. I can't fight the smirk that appears at the disgusted look on their faces. It's putrid, the scent of dead animal mixing with the pungent smell of the swamp.

"That looks… awful," Nerissa says in a low voice.

I shrug. "Food is food." It's not like we have a choice anyway. All the plants around us are dead.

They all look skeptical for a moment before Cato nods and says, "Somebody start a fire," and begins walking away to do whatever it is he does. I almost comment on the risk, but I stop myself. It's not like they're afraid of drawing the attention of other tributes.

"I'll take a look around the area," Mace says. "See if there's any other usable water."

"I'll get stuff for the fire. Anything to get me away from this disgusting smell," Nerissa says. I'm glad to be staying by the swamp. Hopefully the smell will repel other tributes.

I take that as my hint to get started on skinning the rodent-like animal. I take a good look at it, my face scrunching up at the sight. It's about two feet long, with small, beady eyes, and a long, pointed snout. I sit back against a tree with the animal beside me as I inspect the knives in my vest. There are a few different kinds, thankfully none of them heavy. I pull one out that most closely resembles the ones I used back in Twelve and begin my work. The task is mindless and I can't help but be equally happy and unhappy about it. On one hand, it's nice to focus on something I'm good at, something that I don't have to question. On the other, it's distracting and it leaves me to nothing but my thoughts. My mind can't help but wander to the three members of my alliance, conjuring all types of disturbing scenarios leading to my death. I inwardly cringe and force myself to think about something else. That's not any better though because all I can think of are the people that I miss back in district Twelve.

I wonder what they're up to—Mabel and Mr. Fairbain. They're probably working. Even with the Games, no one in Twelve can afford to take the day off. Instead, they just play in the background, always lingering despite how much we wish they would just go away. I can't help but hope Mr. Fairbain is doing okay without me. Not that I'm irreplaceable or anything, but he's not a big fan of change, and so I doubt he's taken on anyone new since I left. I don't let my mind wander any farther than that, but thinking about them reminds me that I'm being watched right now.

Maybe I'm not on camera or maybe I am, but either way, someone in Panem knows what's going on. It makes me wonder if the mentors can see what's happening with their tributes at all times. Do they get to see every camera angle? Probably not, I decide. They only get to see what's deemed important by the Gamemakers. Still, unless there's action somewhere else, I find it hard to believe we aren't on camera right now. Three Capitol favorites are teamed up, and the sponsors and citizens are going to want to know every little thing that happens with them. Wouldn't want to risk their money on an unsafe bet, now would they? I really hope my mentors are paying attention, because with the way things are going, I might need their help sooner rather than later. I shake my head and focus on my task.

Nerissa comes striding back through the trees carrying a few twigs and branches in her arms. She drops them on the ground without ceremony, turning her gaze to the animal in my hands.

"That is repulsive," she says before dropping to the ground a few feet away.

I shrug but don't answer as I cut through the diaphragm and up the throat. I feel eyes on me and I glance in her direction. It's not her eyes I meet though. Cato is watching me with a look of concentration that's quickly overcome by one of disgust when I begin to pull out the intestines.

"Are you going to light the fire, Twelve?" Nerissa asks.

I tear my gaze away from Cato and stare at her.

"You're the survival girl," Mace's voice sounds in my ear. I jump slightly and I can see his smirk when he walks into view.

I guess Haymitch really wasn't exaggerating when he said that Careers don't know any survival skills.

I narrow my eyes at the pair. "I would, but I'm a little busy at the moment." I punctuate the statement by pulling out another organ and dropping it onto the intestines.

All three faces scrunch up in a look of distaste, and I'm far too pleased to hide the smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"Besides," I say, "there should be some matches in the backpack. I'm sure you guys can handle that."

I don't mean to say the last part, but it just slips out. Nerissa growls, looking ready to tear into me. Mace, however, begins to laugh, and it manages to swipe the smile from my face.

"Oh, I do love it when you get all feisty like this," he purrs.

I practically gag and it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm in the middle of removing organs from a dead animal. He grabs the backpack, holding a triumphant hand in the air when he finds the matches and starts the fire without any trouble.

"How much longer?" Cato asks.

I let my gaze drift back to the boy from Two and say, "A few more minutes."

He makes no move to reply, instead opting to stick his sword into the flame. I raise an eyebrow but don't question him. It's probably some weird Career thing.

We all sit in tense silence—or at least I'm tense—as I finish what I'm doing. The next hour or so passes quickly despite my nerves. Whatever the animal is, it tastes pretty good and it's satisfying to my empty stomach. The Careers seem to be enjoying it enough, so I tick it off as another check in my column. It makes me wonder what they would have done without me—how they would get food. Maybe I should have run away, because it doesn't seem to me like they would make it that long without someone with some survival skills. That would have been nice.

Mace is the first to break the silence. "So what's the plan?"

"I'm fine with anything that gets us away from this place," Nerissa responds. "I can't breathe without feeling like I'm going to vomit."

"There might be something useful here." They look at me quizzically. "I mean, there's a reason it smells so bad," I elaborate. "It's not necessarily dangerous. It repels people…so maybe there's something here that's worth getting but no one bothers to come because it's so gross." The look doesn't vanish from their faces. I shrug. "Just a thought."

There's the sound of birds over the silence around us.

"Right," Nerissa says, sounding unconvinced. "Anyway…"

I roll my eyes at her dismissal but don't say anything.

"You and birdy can look for water while Nerissa and I look for some of the others," Mace suggests.

Cato doesn't look happy with the prospect. It's a double blow, I'm sure—having to be near me and missing the Hunt. Tragic, really. He moves to speak, but a chorus of birds cuts him off.

Nerissa huffs and throws her stick to the ground. "Will those damn birds shut up?"

I follow her glare to see the white birds swooping up and over the cliff. I stare at them for a long time—the occasional one coming up with a fish and depositing it in a nest that rests on a tree branch. They're easy to make out since the trees have shed all of their leaves. My eyebrows knit together as I watch them dive in and out before returning to their nests, lowering their heads to drop something and then taking off again. Half the time it doesn't look like they have anything, and so I continue to stare in confusion as they do it time and time again. Something tugs at me, but I can't quite place it. What are they doing?... It dawns on me suddenly and I—

"Are you ever paying attention, Twelve?" Cato asks from across from me.

I don't pay any mind to the anger in his tone. I blink at him slowly and say, "I know how to get water," before I'm on my feet and making my way to the edge of the cliff. I jog over, the relief fueling me with energy. I hear them move to action behind me, the three of them following through the trees.

"What are you talking about?" Mace asks.

I don't turn around or stop jogging. "Water. I know where to find it."

Cato grunts. "I think we got that part."

Obviously not.

I pull to a stop at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the water below. It laps against the rocks and the birds continue to dive in and out.

"Look. There," I say, pointing to one of them as it dips into the blue liquid and flies back to its nest. Nerissa looks somewhat confused, but both Cato and Mace look thoughtful.

Nerissa raises an eyebrow. "What does that prove?"

"You don't see it?" I ask, unable to keep the relieved smile off my face despite her confusion. I don't wait for them to answer. I'm eager to ease the ache in my throat.

"Their beaks," Mace supplies, and I nod, glad that someone understands, even if it is Mace.

"That sounds ridiculous," Nerissa says.

"Who cares how ridiculous it is if it gets us water."

"Wait a second," Nerissa says. "How do we know that you're even right about this?"

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Even she isn't going to ruin my good mood. "Why don't we just check then?"

"Fine," she answers. "Climb the tree then and let's see." She points to a nest sitting only about twenty feet above the ground.

I inwardly cringe, cursing Katniss for her tree climbing abilities. I have no choice but to be honest.

"I don't really climb trees," I say, my voice somewhat surly.

"You're from district Twelve," she states, as if that fact is enough to grant me this skill.

"That doesn't mean that I know how to climb."

"What else is there to do there?" Mace asks mockingly.

I roll my eyes. It's like he's completely forgotten that I just spent half an hour cleaning and butchering an animal.

"Oh, that's right. Most butchers do their work from the highest branch of the tallest tree in their district. The skills are practically synonymous. How could I have forgotten?" I ask sarcastically. I've done a pretty good job of ignoring him this far, but there's only so much mocking I can take. I snap my mouth shut, though, angry at myself for letting them frustrate me.

Mace's face instantly blossoms into a smirk and I know that he got the reaction he wanted. He turns to Cato and says, "Isn't she fun when she gets all riled up?"

Cato states at him blankly for a moment before pushing forward. "I'll do it myself," he says gruffly.

The three of us stand there silently as he makes his way towards and then up the tree. He moves easily enough, which is surprising considering how large he is. Maybe they teach this in the Career Academy.

I wait with bated breath when he reaches the nest and looks inside. He peers down at us from where he's perched and says the two words that pull a breath of relief from my lungs.

"There's water."

He grabs the nest and moves carefully, but quickly down the tree, passing it off to Mace when he is low enough. The nest is bigger than I thought—almost two feet in diameter. It must be a muttation of some sort, because not a single one of us recognizes the bird. I don't really care what it is though—as long as it doesn't try to kill me. But I don't really give it much thought because I can't focus on anything other than how my mouth feels like it's made of cotton.

"How do we know it's safe to drink?" Mace asks.

Based on the look in his eye, I don't think whether or not it's safe will stop him from drinking it. If it's not, I hope I'm right and he tries to gulp the whole thing down.

I purse my lips, trying to recall what I learned in the training center. Something about sand…

"Give me a minute," I say as I turn and walk to the edge of the water that runs over the cliff. I pick up a handful of the sandy earth before walking back and dropping it into the nest.

"What are you doing?" Nerissa screeches.

I raise an eyebrow at her outburst. I don't take my eyes off the water. "If the sand floats, it's too contaminated to drink. If it sinks…" I say slowly as I watch the tiny pieces drift to the bottom," then it's safe," I finish with a smirk.

She still looks skeptical. "You drink first," she demands.

I'm only too eager to comply. I scoop some into my hands and drink it, the ache in my throat slightly dissipating as the cool liquid slides down. They all seem to be convinced of its drinkability when I don't suddenly drop dead, moving quickly to drink some down as well. The words 'you're welcome' sit at the tip of my tongue, but I refrain from speaking them. They won't do me any good and my mouth is too busy trying to gulp down water anyway.

Once we're finished, we fill the water bottle and then we—and by we I mean the three Careers—decide that it's best to keep moving. We haven't gotten much sleep since entering the arena, and I don't know if Cato's shift even ended before we moved. I'd bet that they're trained to function on little amounts of sleep. I'm reinvigorated by both the food and the water though, so I don't mind much. I ignore the part of my brain that reminds me that moving really means hunting for other tributes. I'm getting pretty good at that—ignoring things I hate.

The temperature remains cool as we move. It's almost nice if I ignore the fact that I could die at any moment. The sky is still gray, so there's no hot sun to burn our skin, and there's a breeze to keep off the heat generated from moving across the uneven surface. It's even better now that there aren't sharp leaves falling from the sky. I glance down at the cuts on my hands, frowning when I realize that many of them haven't closed. Confusion and fear gnaw at me, but I push it to the back of my mind when Cato speaks from behind me.

"How did you know where the water was?"

I throw a glance over my shoulder. He's surveying the area instead of looking at me, but I know he's paying close attention to whatever my answer is.

"I was just paying attention," I say. "They were at the Cornucopia too—the birds, I mean. I saw them before the Bloodbath. And since that's the only other source of water we've seen… I don't know, it just made sense. They kept going to the water but didn't have any food," I finish with a shrug even though he's not looking at me.

"And the thing about the sand?"

"Training center," I tell him. "There was a station on sanitizing," I add, because I doubt he remembers it considering it didn't involve stabbing anything.

He makes a humming sound under his breath, but doesn't comment further. I want to turn around and see the look on his face, but I don't. He keeps doing this—asking me these small questions and then cutting the conversation off before it actually starts. It's not like I mind. I'm not exactly eager to talk to him, but I still find it strange. I hate feeling like he's testing me somehow, trying to gage something from me. But I guess as long as he's not trying to kill me, I don't care much about his questions.

We trudge for what feel likes hours, but it's hard to tell in the arena, especially because the sun hasn't made an appearance all day. And with the exception of the wind continuing to pick up speed and the dull light of sky finally beginning to fade, nothing has happened. We haven't seen a single other tribute—for which I'm grateful—and there have been no cannons—for which I'm not. The pit of uneasiness has made a permanent home in my stomach, so that hasn't changed either. I am hungry though, so that's different. The slump of both Mace and Nerissa's shoulders is evident, and although I'm sure they're disappointed that we haven't see any other tributes to kill, I decide to attribute it to what little sleep we all got last night. It makes me wonder how Cato is still on his feet, because I'm still convinced that his shift never ended. He seems to be having similar thoughts to mine, because I hear him call out from behind me.

"We should stop and make camp."

Relief is the only thing I feel at the comment. The exhaustion has long begun to creep up on me, making my limbs feel heavy and my brain decidedly less sharp. There's no reason that exhaustion should be a factor when there's four of us.

"I'll set the snare and grab some berries or something," I say, walking away before anyone has the chance to stop me. I'm sure they're hungry too, so I don't expect anyone to protest anyway.

By the time I return, they're all on the ground, sitting in silence. Someone's already started a fire, which I don't much see the point of. There are no animals to cook, and it will just draw attention, but I figure that's the point. Pursing my lips, I move around the area to hand out what little I've collected thanks to the decision to kill all the plants.

Mace sends me a leer, his hand drawing along mine for much longer than necessary, and a chill runs down my spine. I think he notices, because a smirk blossoms on his face, but then he's turning to Nerissa and whispering in her ear. I see her roll her eyes in annoyance when he leans closer. She's obviously not a fan of his flirting. I can't help but think they'd make a great couple. Better to make two people miserable than four.

When I make my way over to Cato, he has a tense look on his face, barely noticing my presence. I follow his line of sight to Mace, and I can't help but wonder what's got him so tense. Maybe something happened while I was gone. But I've started to get the impression that he doesn't like Mace much. Probably because he threatens him as the alpha male or whatever.

I stick out my hand out towards him. "Cato." Nothing. "Cato," I say again, a little louder as I wave my hand in front of his face to get his attention.

He trains his gaze on me, none of the tension disappearing. "What?"

I roll my eyes at his rude tone. "Food."

He takes it from my hand without another word. I can't help but think how easy it would be to poison him. He didn't even look at it before putting it in his mouth, opting instead to stare at the fire. I shake my head and walk away. I just hope whatever is bothering him doesn't become my problem too.

I see Mace lean a little too close to Nerissa from across the fire. She leans back slightly, looking ready to speak but Cato beats her too it, addressing the boy from One.

"What are Topaz's strengths and weaknesses?" he asks.

The question itself isn't unexpected, but I raise an eyebrow at his hard tone. For a fleeting second, I think that Cato's sudden tenseness is because of jealousy. He was staring at Mace flirt, albeit weakly and disturbingly, with Nerissa just moments before. But then I remember that he's had spectacularly good timing when it comes to Mace's games and unwanted advances. Maybe there are some things even Careers don't stand by. Whatever it is, I don't let myself dwell on it too long. Cato's still a horrible person, just maybe a slightly less horrible one than before.

Mace sits up straighter at the interruption, but doesn't look the least put out. He answers the question thoroughly, and I feel disgusted by how easy it is for him to betray someone from his own district. Are they okay with this in One? Probably, I think. Careers win almost every year and so it's inevitable that some showdowns have been from people of the same district. Still, it's repulsive.

Not that I can talk. I killed Karn. In self-defense, I remind myself. It doesn't help much, so I don't let myself think about if my district is okay with it.

We spend a couple minutes like that—or at least they do—talking about the other Careers and figuring how to best handle them while we eat. It's incredibly unsettling, and I'm glad I have no part in it. I do listen though, storing all the little pieces away. Like how Topaz is weak on her left side, or how Murrow is deadly with traps but weaker when it comes to hand to hand combat.

"What about you, Twelve?" Mace asks.

I swallow down the fruit I'm eating, a look of confusion no doubt covering my features. "What about me?"

"Got any information to share?"

"There's no one else from her district left, Mace," Nerissa chimes in. I'm glad I'm not the one who has to say the words, even if her tone sounds somewhat amused by the idea.

"Yeah, but you had an ally in the last arena. The girl from Six," he says. "What's her deal?"

I don't know what to say for a second. It's not like I owe Zeppina anything, but the words are caught in my throat for the same reason I didn't tell Cato that she was there last night. I definitely don't let myself look to see how Cato reacts to the question because I have little doubt that he's still angry. I don't care about protecting her, but I can't make myself do something that feels so close to betrayal. What is wrong with me?

"Well…?" I hear him say after a moment.

I decide that I don't want to give either of them any valuable information, so I keep my answer short. "I don't know. She's smart, pretty good at survival stuff. She didn't use a weapon in last arena, so I don't know what she's good with."

I realize when I finish that it's all true—especially the part about not knowing. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't give much more information than that. She's played her part well, I guess.

Mace opens his mouth to speak, but a cannon booms and we all fall silent. Ten more, I remind myself. Only ten more and I'm out of this hellhole.

"I'll take first watch," I say, breaking the quiet. Surprisingly, no one protests the idea of me being on guard, obviously too tired to give it much thought.

I'm exhausted, but I know that I can't sleep right now. Last night comes rushing back to me, and my stomach clenches uncomfortably. I stamp the fire out and then grab a knife and settle against a rock. All three of them are asleep within minutes, and I once again think about how easy it would be to kill them. It would be so easy to do to Cato what Demetrius did to Amelia. It'd be sure to cause a stir throughout the Capitol—the reversal of roles. Maybe it would even gain me some favor. But even as the thoughts swirl around my head, I know I won't do it.

Haymitch is probably disappointed. So am I. I twirl Amelia's bracelet around my wrist, hating the feeling of anger that it stirs in me. Even more so, I hate that the only reason I haven't killed them is because of her, not me. I don't like having thoughts like this, let alone knowing that if it weren't for her, I would probably carry them out. But then again, if it weren't for her, I wouldn't want Cato dead anyway, so I guess it doesn't really matter.

The wind blows harshly, and I pull my jacket tighter around myself. I don't know how much time passes, but it must be late because the anthem begins to play. None of the Careers wake up, so it's just me watching the faces of the Fallen. There is a boy from Six— the one that Mace killed—and a girl from Two. Hera, I think her name was. That's all the deaths for today and everything fades back into silence. I don't let myself think about the boy from Six, but I don't stop the relief at Hera's death. The less Careers, the better.

Exhaustion curls at the edges of my vision, but I force myself to remain awake. I try to find something to distract myself with. In the end, I decide to practice throwing my knife. At least that will keep me busy. I never throw it more than a couple of feet in front of me. Instead I just focus on going through the motions Cato showed me in the training center.

I pull my hand back, frowning at it, or more specifically the cuts that cover it. They remain open, a strange blue liquid seeping out. I inspect it closer, but I don't know what it means. My hands and the cuts on my face feel perfectly normal, and there's nothing indicative about the liquid except for the color. But that doesn't stop the coil of nervousness from tightening in my stomach. I knew there was something else about those leaves. I shake my head, knowing that the worry is going to keep me up. Still, I have to at least try to get some sleep or I'll be completely useless tomorrow. I could wake Mace up, but I don't want to be alone with him, so I walk over to Nerissa.

And that's when I see them. Tiny white bugs emerging from the ground, swarming over the open wounds. Maggots. I whip my head around, and it confirms my thoughts. They're everywhere.

"Get up!" My voice echoes sharply through the night air.

It's amazing how quickly all three jump to their feet, weapons at the ready. It takes them even less time to figure out why I've woken them. There's a chorus of "what the hell" and yelps as they frantically try to get the bugs off.

"Give me your knife," Cato bites out, indicating to the one in my hand.

I hesitate, but then pass it over. My eyes widen as he sticks it into his skin. When he removes it, a maggot drops to the ground and he repeats the motion again and again. It takes a second for my mind to comprehend that they've begun to burrow themselves into the cuts. I'm extremely grateful that I took first watch and wasn't lying on the ground with them.

It takes them a few minutes to clear all the bugs from their skin, each of them passing the knife around to get the ones that tried to burrow beneath it. My face is scrunched as I watch the scene, and theirs are no different.

"Seriously," Nerissa grits out. "What the hell was that?"

I don't think she means it literally, but that's how I answer. "Maggots."

She pushes the handle of the knife back into my hand and narrows her eyes. "Yes, I know that. Why were they all over us?"

I purse my lips and glance down at my own hands, seeping blue liquid. "I think the leaves were coated in some kind of poison. Maggots are usually only attracted to large wounds or dead tissue and these are neither." I say, bringing my hand closer to my face. The scent of rotting flesh—like something from back home—oozes out. "Whatever's coming out of the cuts probably attracts them."

Nerissa's nose scrunches, the corners of her mouth tugging down. "What exactly were they going to do?"

My own face scrunches in disgust. My mind conjures up memories of finding rancid meat in the shop, maggots coating the rotting flesh. "They burrow into the wound and eat the dead tissue. Usually, at least. They can infest living tissue too. We see it in animals sometimes," I add.

"What happens then?" Mace asks. He doesn't really sound like he wants the answer though.

"They, uh," I pause, trying to think of the right way to phrase it. "They feed off the tissue and grow. Eventually they lay eggs, and those hatch, and well, I think you get the picture."

"Spectacular," he replies. "So what exactly does that mean?"

I shrug because I don't really know. "I guess it's not safe to sleep on the ground when the cuts are open."

"What are we supposed to do then?" Nerissa asks. "Sleep in the trees?"

She means it sarcastically, but I just shrug again. "Maybe, or on rocks. I don't really want to find out what happens if one of these mutts actually makes it under the skin. Do you?"

She doesn't respond, thankfully.

"You could even try sleeping sitting up. I wasn't attacked by anything," I add after a moment, because, really, it's a much simpler answer than trying to climb one of these trees. Who knows what'll happen if we try that. They'd probably start collapsing in the middle of the night or something.

"Whatever," Cato says, finally speaking up. "Let's just go back to sleep. Whoever is on watch will keep an eye out."

We all agree and settle back down. Nerissa takes watch, and I try to let the exhaustion wash over me. I barely get any sleep.

We have no more problems with the maggots during the night, and the next two days are relatively uneventful. We eat, we walk, we hunt. It's one giant loop. But we don't find anybody, and nobody finds us. I haven't slept in days, and I feel dead on my feet. It's an annoying contrast—the tiredness in my limbs but their refusal to be anything but tense every second of the day. As the days drag on, the tension only gets worse. Sure, things have happened—the leaves, the maggots… but only two people have died since the Bloodbath. I can see the beginning of tension in the shoulders of my alliance. They might be tense out of boredom like the Capitol people, but I know that they realize this too. They know that something needs to happen soon.

The only notable difference, and one that I don't take lightly, is the weather. The grayness of the sky has faded somewhat, but the days remain windy. Both the heat and the vegetation have returned, but it's a different type of heat this time. It's like the heat at home: the type that makes you feel like you're swimming rather than walking, like the air itself is enough to suffocate you. The unpredictable weather pattern reminds me too much of the first arena, and the coil of fear in my stomach winds itself even tighter.

I feel a weight on my lower back, and my jaw clenches, my pace picking up to let the hand slip away. I look down, eyeing the drop off of the incline we walk along. I don't even flinch at the thought of pushing Mace down it. His behavior hasn't changed, but I do notice that he treats Nerissa similarly, though slightly less mocking. I never thought of myself as a hateful person—Snow, Demetrius, and Cato as exceptions of course—but I'm beginning to find that it's a constant presence in my emotional state. There's no question that Mace, or any of them deserve it, but I don't like that I'm starting to wonder if this is a part of me I didn't know existed before, or if it's something the Games have created. Either way, it makes me bitter.

"Relax, birdy. I just have a question for you," Mace says as his hand falls away.

I only raise an eyebrow in reply. I find it's better if I keep our interactions to the minimum.

"I'm getting kind of thirsty."

"That's not a question," I say, even though I know exactly what he's going to say next.

"Where are the birds?"

We haven't seen any more nests since we left the swamp, and I've come to the conclusion that I was right about it being important. The smell is probably to keep people away so that they don't get water. But I know that there must be more, otherwise people would begin dropping dead from dehydration at this point.

I shake my head, seeing that the question has drawn the attention of both Nerissa and Cato.

"I don't know," I say, squinting up at the treetops. It's impossible to see anything through the leaves though. "I think… I think they're back by the swamp. We're probably too far away from the water."

"Perfect," Cato grumbles as he wipes at the sweat accumulating on his forehead.

I have the urge to wipe my own. I can feel sweat dripping down every part of me. The only bright side is the harsh wind that's only getting worse as the day goes on. But even that's not much of a solace. It's almost painfully strong at this point.

"Let's just keep moving," he continues. "We aren't going to find anything standing here."

I sigh, but don't argue. I'm tired, but he's right. There's nothing else to do but keep moving.

We only make it about twenty feet before a loud clap resounds through the air, pulling us to a stop.

"Ugh, what now?" Nerissa groans.

She takes the words right out of my mouth.

Crack.

The sound of the birds dies out, replaced by a loud rumbling.

Cato is the first to answer her question. "Thunder."

The sky cracks again, echoing across the arena. A few seconds tick by, and then the sky opens. The water beats harshly on my skin, picking up momentum as it falls. The wind pushes against me, nearly knocking me to the ground. Water rushes into my eyes, my visibility nearly gone in seconds.

"We need shelter!" I shout, hoping that someone can hear me over the wind and the water pelting the earth.

"This way!"

I don't know who says it, but I follow blindly. The air crackles, and the sky lights up in a brilliant white light. I flinch back from the edge, the earth crumbling and dropping to the land below.

I faintly hear Cato's voice over the sound of my heart and the storm. "Watch where you're going, Twelve!"

I don't have to be told twice. I take another step away, but it's more like stumbling. The land squishes and slides beneath my feet, nothing more than mud in a matter of seconds. Vegetation sticks to me, but I don't feel anything but the wind and the rain. We trudge for minutes like that, the wind and rain pelting us, visibility fading with every minute.

Crack. I try to speak again, but the sounds of the storm drown out my voice. There's no use in speaking now.

My foot collides with something. I'm sent tumbling forward onto my hands and knees. A large branch crashes to the ground in front of me. My heart pounds furiously against my chest. A couple more feet and… I can feel myself slipping down the edge. I crawl forward and try to scramble up. The wind nearly tips me over, but I'm on my feet and moving forward again.

It's pointless. I hear it before I see it.

Swoosh. I take another slippery step. There's a repeating snap and then a loud rumbling. I squint my eyes, but it's no use. It's not until it's right in front of me that I know what it is. It's too late by then. I take another step and the land gives out.

And then I'm moving.

There's nothing but water and mud and I can't breathe. I'm being crushed from all sides. Water fills my lungs, and suddenly I'm in the first arena again: frigid water and a hand around my neck. But I know it's not real. There is no one to break free from. There is nothing I can do but hope I don't die.

I try to reach out but there is nothing to grab. I squeeze my eyes shut and I'm completely submerged. I can no longer tell which direction is which. Dizziness fills my head. Everything is blackness and water and then for a few seconds, there is nothing.

I smash into something hard and I jolt into awareness. Suddenly there is solid ground beneath me as I'm thrown onto my side. I grip whatever is in reach and then I vomit. I hack forcefully, the contents of the flash flood spilling from my lungs. I cough violently for a few moments and then try to move. A new wave of nausea rushes over me, and I vomit some more.

Once I'm positive that all the remnants of the muddy water have been dispelled from my body, I attempt to move. My limbs are suddenly made of lead though, and my mind is just as slow, but I don't care. The relief of being alive is too great. I give up and lay panting on the ground. My heart refuses to slow its rapid pace. I feel like it's going to beat out of my chest. It's not until there's a loud boom that I force myself to move.

For a moment I'm afraid it's another flood, but then I notice that the rain has stopped. Then I remember what it really is: a cannon. Someone is dead. Despite my body's protests, I push myself to my feet, my head whipping around. Cato, Mace, Nerissa—they are nowhere in sight. Were they swept up too? The cannon must have been for one of them, but who?

The sound of snapping and squishing draws me out of my thoughts. I whirl around. A figure stumbles forward.

Cato.

He's caked in mud, and I can see blood dripping down his forehead. There is an odd feeling that settles in my stomach, something like relief, but my head is too foggy to analyze it.

"Twelve," he says, sounding somewhat breathless. "Put the kni…knife down. It's not going to do you any good if you…you're shaking like that."

I look down and notice that he's right. My arm, extended and shaky, holds a knife. I don't remember pulling it out.

"Are you… where ar—" I cough violently. My throat is raw. "Mace and Nerissa… the cannon."

He shakes his head. "I don't know."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Mace and Nerissa are dead? Lost? What will it be? At least poor Briar is rid of them for now.

SylviaHunterOfArtemis: She's definitely stuck between a rock and a hard place with poisoning them or not, but at least for now, all she has to deal with is Cato... not that that's much better.

FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff: Siberian Cat? Nice. I got a Dun Mare... Wish I knew what that actually signified though lol

lovewords: It's the Games, there's always conflict lol. Mace is definitely a creep. I was always surprised that Susanne Collins never put in a creepy character who uses this as a kind of power advantage so I wanted to play around with that. And for Zeppina... hmmm, let's just say we haven't heard the last of her. Ahh, I'm so flattered, you're too sweet. People like you definitely make writing worth it.

SecretsWithSouls00: Wow, that's a huge compliment. Seriously, to say you feel like you're in the arena... ahhh. XD

WhiteEevee: The Careers, babies? Never... Oh Zeppina... where have you gone? What are you up to? We shall see. Yeah, Cato was relatively reasonable. Say what you want about Careers, but they at least understand basic survival, which Briar seems to be struggling with at the minute lol.

See you guys next week when we see how Briar and Cato fair on their own...