Hey guys! I'm baaaaaaaacccckkkkk! Did you miss me? Right, first off, the results of the poll. In first place... *drumroll* with two votes each you thought that Peeta or my laptop died! I thought I told you guys not to click that one?! And, in joint third with one vote each it is... *drumroll again* ...Thresh, Rue and Medea herself! What is with you people and guessing the obviously wrong ones? I mean, Medea, really? If she died then this story would be done. Unless if she became a ghost... 0.0

Anyway, sorry, but you were all wrong. It wasn't Peeta or my laptop (though it kept dying on chapter twelve) or Thresh or Rue or Medea. It was- well, you'll find out, won't you?

Now, I shall leave you with the interesting chapter title, "I Didn't Mean To"...

Chapter Twenty-One – I Didn't Mean To

As I hear the anthem play, I dread looking up to the sky, but I do so anyway. Please don't be Rue. Or Katniss. Or Peeta. Or Thresh. Or- I just don't want anybody else to have died. Could it be possible that somebody actually didn't die? Is it possible for the Gamemakers to ever get it wrong? I've never seen it, but it could happen, I think, one day.

I see the face, and it's...

It's...

It's Clove.

Clove?

Somehow I wasn't expecting that. That seems an even less likely result than President Snow suddenly rushing into the arena with a plastic chicken tied to his head. I'm waiting, President...

So now there is only one Career left. Cato. Though Katniss is half a Career really, with her bow and all. And then Thresh could be the other half, he's that big. Actually, Peeta was also a Career for a while, so then he could be half again. So correction: there are two and a half Careers left.

A cold wind blows against my neck and every other body part I own for that matter. I crawl over to a tree and try to use it as a windshield so I'm slightly warmer, but the wind just changes directions to get at me. If I move around the tree trunk, the wind follows. Many awkward moves later, I give up and just crumple up in a ball, trying to sleep despite the low temperature. I could so do with a fire right now, but of course, with two and a half Careers around, I could never light one.

When I wake, there is sunburn on my neck. How-? Weather confuses me.

The sun shines in my eyes, so I cover them with my hand. What do I need to do? Hm... you need to eat. So I eat what is left in my pack. An apple, three crackers and half a handful of oppoberries. Now you have to drink. So I take a drink, carefully counting my sips this time so I won't run out. I want to find that pond again – the one I found before I ran to the tracker-jacker tree. You need to set off, then. So I set off.

I hike through the woods, ignoring the itching coming from the dried blood on my face and scalp. It would only make it worse, I tell myself.

I can't really see me reaching the pond any time soon. So I'd better do something to keep me occupied. Think... think... oh, I know! I always used to do this with Myra.

I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... 'T'!

Er... is it a tree?

Yes! Your go!

Okay! I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... 'T'!

Urm. This is a hard one! Is it a tree?!

You got it! Your turn again!

Right, let's see. I spy with my little eye, something beginning with...

It's a tree.

How did you know?

I'm psychic.

No you're not.

Of course I'm not. We live in the same head. That's how I know.

Well, it also helps that all we can see are trees.

Note to self: Playing I-spy alone causes madness.

I carry on for hours, cutting out any attempts at entertaining myself now, as they seem more trouble than they're worth. The water in my bottle gradually dwindles down in amount until there is none left. After much walking I reach the pond. It was hard to find, but I made it. I wonder what's going on with everyone else about now. Rue and Thresh will be in the fields together. Peeta and Katniss will be together somewhere; probably nearby that stream I left Peeta at. I have absolutely no idea what Cato will be up to. Is he sad, I wonder, that his district partner has died? Or might he even have been the one responsible for her death? I don't know, so I had better just focus on myself.

The pond water looks much greener than last time I was here. Oh well, green is organic, right? I dunk my bottle under the water and wait until it is full before bringing it back up to the surface and sealing the cap on. Okay, so that's that dealt with. What now? I shall... make a camp. Yes, that's what I'll do. I don't want to have to do that in the very heat of the day. Walking around, I very quickly find a bush of a suitable size, but unfortunately it's poisoned ivy. Luckily, I find another oppoberry bush before long, so now I have both shelter and food. Then I don't know what to do, so I simply try to sleep while it's warm and easy to do so.

When I wake up, it's to the sound of the anthem. I didn't know I slept that long! Nobody's face appears in the sky. They'll get us for it tomorrow, I think. This thought is immediately answered by another announcement by Claudius Templesmith.

"Hello to the remaining tributes of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. Tomorrow morning, I invite you to a feast at the Cornucopia," Claudius' voice booms. I think I might just stay here. No point in getting myself killed for food when I can forage for it here in the woods. Or maybe even scavenge off of someone if the opportunity arises. "Now hold on," Claudius Templesmith continues, "Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately." Sleeping bag. I know that's what he means for me straight away. I was freezing last night. I need a sleeping bag.

"Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn," says Claudius, "Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance." My last chance? If he's referring to me, that means they will be altering the temperature to be even cooler at night. I won't survive that. Think hard? No need to think hard. I have to go if I'm to get home. Even if I have sponsors, there won't be enough money for a sleeping bag on day eleven. Day Eleven. Followed by Day Twelve. What a lovely birthday present that will be. The most valuable one I'll ever have, probably. Almost as if I'd been planning on this happening, I know what I'll do for the Feast.

I make my way past the pond, past the tracker-jacker tree, right to the edge of the woods. The Cornucopia is in view, and it should be dark enough for me to go unnoticed by Cato, if I time it right. But he still had at least one pair of night-vision goggles when I last saw him. After maybe twenty minutes, it feels safe. I'm leaving the pack here hidden in the brush; it should make running easier. A last glance left and right, clutching my knife blade just in case, and I'm off. I dash to the Cornucopia as fast as I can, cold air beating against my face as I do. I run inside and then right to the tip, where I hide, staying alert, for what must be nearly two hours solid. The metal is freezing and I wince every time I accidentally touch it. I wonder where my jacket is; I haven't had it for ages. Mind you, it barely covered my armpits after the fire.

I can just about make out the moon through the corner of the bend when I feel the vibrations. They are tiny, but I still feel them. My heart rate increases and my breathing intensifies. Who is it? Did they see me come in? It must be Cato; he's the only one who would have seen me, who would enter without a thought on his conscience. But why has it taken him so long? I ready myself, squatting instead of kneeling, my blade raised in a combative position. Don't come any closer, I think, don't come any closer or I'll have to do it. I don't want to do it. I don't want to fight. I don't want to die. I don't want to kill either.

When I can feel the person close to me, merely a few paces, my self-preservation instincts kick in, outweighing anything else. I close my eyes, run and dive on to the person, stabbing them in the process. A high-pitched scream leaves them; a girl's scream. I slowly open my eyes, knowing what I shall find under my chest. I have just attacked a twelve-year-old.

"Rue!" I say, jumping backwards off her chest, "I- I- I- I'm sorry. I- I- I didn't mean to! If I knew it was you I never would have, never would have..." I trail off as I see the knife blade still firmly sticking out of her abdomen, the blood flowing smoothly out like the leaking fountain we have in District Five's main town square – all hell breaks lose to avoid standing in its waste at the reapings. I pluck the blade out and throw it out of harm's way. What do I do now? How do I help her? What do I do? Um, um, um, um, bandage! Yes, I'll need to bandage her up with my first aid kit. I have just one bandage left, but it could be enough. I reach to get the kit out of my pack when I remember. I left it in the forest. Then I'll just have to... have to... what? "Rue, what should I do? How can I help?"

I can see she is trying to suppress the pain from showing on her face, but it doesn't work. "Just, uh, keep pressure on it." Right, pressure. I can do that! I move around to her side and press in my hands to her wound. It feels so wrong, like I will be doing more harm than good, but it really does slow down the blood a lot. If I can just stay here long enough for the blood to clot, maybe she'll be alright. Tears start to stream down my cheeks, but I can't wipe them away. How could I hurt Rue? The little pixie who could fly around the apparatus and the trees.

"You're saving me again," says Rue, the faintest of smiles on her face.

I give a confused look, "Rue, I nearly killed you!" Then I add, "In fact, I might still have killed you! But I didn't want to kill you, you know that don't you?"

"I know, Em," she sighs.

"Does, uh, Thresh know you're here?" I ask.

"Yes," she says, face repulsing from the pain of the wound, "it's part of our plan. We didn't think anybody else would think of hiding in the Cornucopia. I was just going to run straight out, grab the pack and go back to the fields," she almost gives a little confused laugh, "it didn't work, did it?"

I panic. I don't know exactly what I can say to that. I think. "That wasn't a good plan," I say, "Thresh has all that muscle and he left it all to you?"

"Well, I say it was our plan," grimaces Rue, "I didn't really give him much choice when he said we shouldn't do it. Still, I think he'd run in to help me if something went wrong."

A thought enters my head, "Rue, what is the thing you need most desperately?"

"I don't know. Thresh said he knew, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. Why'd you ask?"

"Because, it's just, well, maybe there's a different thing you need most now. Something to help this wound."

Rue replies to me calmly after a moment, "Then I'll just hope they change their minds on what they're giving us."

For a long time, we don't say anything. I feel so awful for doing this to Rue. How in Panem could I think she was Cato? At least I only got her once, and not that deep. The injury is still life-threatening and she'll need treatment for sure, but at least there's a few hours left for her before... before... "I am so sorry, Rue!" I cry, "I feel so terrible. Is there anything else I can do for you? Please say there is! You want it done and I'll do it."

"No, I don't need anything," Rue says, then she thinks more, "actually, there is one thing..."

D-: Rue! Review please and it might help me type up the other two chapters I wrote on a notepad on holiday faster...

Yes, I am bribing you.

Yes, I shouldn't be doing it.

Yes, I do have sunburn in the shape of my swimsuit.

Yes, you don't know what questions you are asking to get these replies.

Yes, I will shut up now.

Review!