It was another dark, rainy morning the next morning, but Katniss and Rue had a blurred visual on the heap of goodies. It was a little less than a half-mile away, but they could see it from the tree tops. "Do you see anyone?" asked Rue.

"In this weather, this high up, and this far away?" Katniss replied.

"Hmm, so how are we gonna do this?" Rue asked.

Katniss thought for a second. She had to admit it; she didn't know. She sighed. "I'm still working on that part." She started to climb down.

"Careful," Rue giggled.

Katniss looked up. "I'll be fine," she replied, and she continued down. She didn't notice the scratches on her face and knees that she'd earned yesterday until this morning, but they'd be fine. She placed her feet carefully as she descended. "Okay," she said as she splashed down. "I have an idea, but we need to be sure that the Careers won't be there. And they can show up… whenever."

Rue landed into a puddle below the tree with a splat! "What if we…," Rue began before giving her thought more consideration. "What if we attract them away?"

"How so?"

"Well, you remember how they found the girl from District Eight, right?"

"Right! The Fire!"

"Exactly!"

"Yes… but we'll have to light several in order to hold them off indefinitely."

"Okay, three. That's a magic number, isn't it?"

"Okay, so, I have my arrows, I'll go."

"Just remember, when the third fire is lit, you have to get out of there."

After a breakfast of herbs and cold tea, the girls stood and continued their mission. A rumbling in Katniss' stomach told her this was to be a hollowday, a day where no matter how much she ate, it wouldn't slake her hunger. So she and Rue trudged through the rain gathering stock for the fire. "Okay," said Katniss as she and Rue tossed their branches onto the pile. "I know it's a little wet, but this green stuff is gonna smoke like crazy so as soon as you light it, move on to the next fire. We'll meet back here, and I'll wreck their stuff."

"Some girls steal all the fun," Rue complained.

Katniss giggled at this.

"We'll need a signal, in case one of us gets held up," Rue continued, serious again.

"Okay, like what?"

Rue noticed her mockingjay pin. "Here, watch this." Rue turned to the trees and vocalized a melody. Within a few seconds, Katniss heard the same melody echoed over again, like a series of whistles clearly through the rain. She didn't see them at first until her eyes landed on a black figure with white streaks on its body that descended on a nearby branch and sing.

"Mockingjays," Katniss said aloud. She remembered the little creatures from her hunts with her father. They were nearly invisible most of the time and appeared, most prominently, after they had heard a respectable tune on the breeze. Initially, the Capitol had made a species of bird called the "jabberjay" in spy-watch facilities to keep an eye and an ear on rebel forces. But this was during the dark ages of war, terrible war. Jabberjays could record full-length conversations—anything and everything from a bass' low tones to a child's high-pitched warble, really well and very clearly. Why so such time and energy was used in such an experiment was simple: Should a jabberjay be there during a "rebel" meeting, it had simply to record the conversation and fly back to centers for all that was said to be analyzed. Fortunately, the rebels caught on, and when they noticed jabberjays nearby, they fed lies to them, deterring Capitol forces. So the jabberjay facilities were shut down and the birds themselves were left to die off, except they didn't, not immediately. Mating with female mockingbirds (jabberjays are designed as an all-male species to avoid distortions in recordings), the jabberjays created a whole new species of bird—a bird that, although could no longer record words, would record sounds and songs hours long—the mockingjay. "That's great!" said Katniss

"Back home we used them to signal all the time," Rue explained. She knew she could trust Katniss the moment she'd first seen the pin. "I used to reach up to the highest branches. I could see when the flag for when it's okay to go home went up. I sang to the mockingjays and they would spread the message. You try."

Not wanting to sing for the Capitol, or anyone, just yet, Katniss whistled a tune up to the birds. It was four simple notes, but the mockingjay on the branch seemed to like it anyway. It sang the tune back to Katniss before flying up into the branches to share the good news with its family, and the tune echoed.

"Okay," Rue decided. "So if we here that, it means we're okay and we'll be back soon."

"It'll be fine," Katniss said shakily, before realizing the tension she'd just created.

Rue became just as nervous as Katniss. "Okay." Rue hugged Katniss, wishing she didn't have to part ways with her either.

"Hey," said Katniss after a moment. She broke the hug. "I'll see you for supper. We can have more tea." Then she left, not able to bear Rue's sad smile. And Rue was left to wait.

After a whole day of doing nothing and being tied up in the Cornucopia, Clove had decided enough with the whole thing. She stared out into the rain. It was lighter than when it first fell this morning. Forget about her, forget Katniss ever existed. Although, if I hadn't so sloppy, I'd be with her right now—No! I said forget her. And after a while she did. Cato would never be convinced that she'd return to her full former self, but at least he wasn't glaring at her anymore. Instead he didn't address her or even look her way. No, that was Marvel's job, Marvel and Glitch, as they called District Three, though his name was Arthur. Clove was pretty sure Marvel called him "Glitch" because it sounded like "Glimmer." He had called him Glimmer mistakenly once. Clove smiled at the thought and leaned to look at the stock pile of all their supplies. "It is a good idea," Clove thought out loud, though she thought of several ways the traps surrounding the heap could be evaded, either by teams or individual tributes. In reality, the likelihood of someone stealing any of the supplies from any angle was a coin toss—you didn't have to be superbly skilled, but you had to watch where you placed yourself and where your feet landed—one prematurely-relieved step backward could be fatal if you don't concentrate. Even Glitch, Marvel said, almost made that mistake when he stood up to rest from his work.

Suddenly, Clove felt herself being hoisted up. Fearing it was Cato, she gasped. "Relax, relax, it's me," a voice said soothingly. Marvel's voice. Clove felt her shoulders drop and a sigh escape her. He carried her out of the Horn, onto the field and put her down on a tarp, where Cato could see, before untying the bonds on her wrists. "Cato needs you to cook the food he brought," he finished quickly. When her hands were free, he left.

Clove rubbed her wrists briefly and undid the bonds on her ankles herself. She moved to stand and collapsed back on the ground with a soft thud. She frowned. Did he have to cut off my circulation? she thought rubbing her bloodless ankles. Avoiding Cato's eyes as she passed, she limped her way to the pile of wood he set out for her, carried them into the Horn and began to stack them. She could barely keep her eyes open. She was exhausted. Exhausted, from the inactivity, injuries, raining glass, any more depressing weather in general, betrayal, humiliation, abandonment, acting, lies, hiding, deaths, fear, anger, sadness, tears, secrets, fighting, running away… she was tired of trying to feel love in the Games. There was just no use. She sighed. She didn't want to do this anymore. She wanted to feel like herself again, be trusted again, by anyone. She wanted to be home—not with her menacing father, but home, in her District doing what she did best. She looked down at her nails. They were dirty again and she started picking at the filth that coated them. Hmm, I do pick at my nails, Clove thought chuckling to herself before forcing herself to stop. "What are you smiling at?" Cato's voice said.

She looked at him, startled. "My nails," she answered over the rain.

"Get back to work," he ordered.

Clove looked back down at the perfectly stacked wood before realizing she had no dry matches. Before she could explain this, Marvel jumped up. "Hey guys—look!" Clove saw him point somewhere above the horizon. At this point the rain had stopped altogether. Her eyes found a column of smoke. "Hey, come on, look, look." The three tributes all gathered around to see. A bonfire? Clove thought. She looked back at the stock pile. What is this—a trick? Sure, they go after a tribute who isn't there and leave there supplies defenseless. It's a perfect plan to get to the center, but as she knew, getting any of the supplies was another story. If one were step on even one of those mines, the supplies closest would go up in smoke. It's a lose-lose situation. But not fruitless, if you play your cards right, she knew.

Cato was prepared for this. He looked at Glitch. "You," he said making his way over to the small tribute. He shook with fear. Cato picked up a spear and shoved it into his hands. "You stand guard here until we get back." He jogged ahead of everyone else. "Let's go!"

After twenty minutes or so of jogging and sloshing in the dark, wet forest, the tributes finally began to smell smoke. Clove was glad. She hadn't run this much since they were in the training center in District Two, long before the beginning of Games! She waited for Cato to stop, but he didn't. Come on, come on! Just stop—! "Oof!" she was met with Cato's back and nearly lost her balance, but Cato caught her arm.

"Shh!" he said dropping her arm. She panted as quietly as she could, trying to take in the environment around her. Wind blew in trees, rain fell on her face, mockingjays sang quietly amoungst themselves. That tune sounds… familiar… then her eyes flew open wide. She jogged behind Cato carefully. The smoke was getting thicker and thicker, she almost choked, and as they got closer and closer to the flickering light of the flames, they found—