Spain Carriedo, District 3

Lovi has to sit next to me silently for a while before she can recover from the scare. In a few minutes, the tears are finally gone from her face, and she's stopped breathing so hard, although she's still shaking a little.

"So," I start slowly, "want to go and pick up the ones you dropped?"

She looks down past her feet for a second before agreeing. Quickly, before I can decipher what she's doing, she starts clambering down the branches, yelling, "Finder's keepers!"

Limbs still sped by adrenaline, she touches ground a good while before I do. She already has one mango in her undamaged hand by the time I spot one of the fallen fruits. I jog the two metres to the thing—the competition probably wasn't meant to be friendly, but I need some sort of amusement—and pick it up. When I check, Lovi's still bobbing her head around to try and locate another one.

I command my gaze back to the ground. It's actually rather hard to spot the mangoes on the forest floor; while they're very bright, so is every one of the numerous flowers and insects dotting the ground. I shift my focus from colour to shape, and it's much easier to skim over things now. Although the sunlight is dimmed by layers of foliage by the time it pushes its way to the ground, it still highlights round things much differently than flat ones.

I finally see another of the mangoes. Plucking it up, I rub some soil off it with my shirt before announcing to Lovi I found another one.

"Just one left," I continue cheerfully, playfully threatening, "I'm definitely going to find it before you!"

She doesn't snap back with anything. Maybe she's not much for trash talking?

I gather both of the mangoes in the crook of my elbow before looking up, away from the ground. Lovi, to my surprise, is sitting.

"You give up?" I call. "Or did you find the other one already?"

Lovi, clutching her jumper tightly around her, cranes her neck to look at me. "Haven't found it," she finally responds bluntly.

"Are you... cold?" I ask quizzically, wondering why else she would be snuggling so much into her jacket.

"Of course I'm cold! It's l-like f-five degress out h-here!" she snaps.

"No, it's not," I respond slowly, confused at how she could confuse this sauna for five degrees. "You okay, Lovi?" I start, stepping toward her.

"Uh-huh," she replies, not sounding so sure any more.

I put a hand to her forehead. She growls uncomfortably and pulls away, but not before my fingertips register cold.

Something's not right here... If anything, she should have a high temperature, right?

"Hey—" I register her shivering weakening and put my hands to her shoulders to look into her face—"hang on! Um..." I look around, like something labelled "This will help her!" is about to appear out of mid-air.

Nothing shows up before she starts hyperventilating.

Nothing shows up before she stops shaking.

And nothing shows up before a cannon fires.

Eston von Bock, District 7

Somewhere far past the first light of dawn, I find out I must have fallen asleep. I wasn't planning to, since no one else here is in condition to protect the alliance—truthfully, I'm not the best candidate, either, but I'm not devoid of a good portion of my blood or my sanity, and I'm in possession of a pickaxe now.

It's kind of weird, to be handling this weapon. To be its owner, when you used to be the property of its last owner. But, however it feels like, it's a weapon, and I'm in the Hunger Games. Beneficial.

Suppressing the urge to scratch at the still-tender wound across my chest, I instead focus on the surroundings. Nothing in the jungle has come toward us—at least, nothing's close enough to see—Amer's still asleep, and Raivis is still in the same wound-up sitting position. The youngest-looking of the alliance is apparently as awake as I am, if less active. Stretching my legs but not my arms, I walk over toward him.

"Morning."

Jerking, he looks up at me, and I notice something I didn't see cleaning up last night: a tiny bit of blood flicked across his cheek.

"Got something right here," I say like it's a piece of food, poitning at the corresponding position on my face. Raivis slowly reaches up and wipes it away.

"Got it," I inform him, sitting down next to him. I hunt down our basket of apples with my gaze—it's only about a foot away from here, and thankfully untouched by the unreal amount of blood exchanged— before settling down a little.

"You didn't get hurt at all, right?" I start, wanting some sort of conversation from this guy.

"No," he mumbles. "I just w-watched."

I nod neutrally before he turns his head toward me.

"How did you get yourself t-to go and help?" he whispers.

I meet his gaze blankly. "No idea," I answer truthfully.

Raivis looks back down. "I wish I could have done something..."

I put my arm across his shoulders. He cringes a little, but doesn't have any other negative reaction. "It's okay," I assure him, trying to ignore the pain building in my wound from the raising of my arm. "He may not be in the best condition, but he still got out alive. And he doesn't have to worry about you being hurt. That's a huge thing for him."

Raivis nods shakily, and we just sit there lazily for a while.

"Nurgh..."

Raivis flinches at the sound, and we both look up to see Amer shifting, eyes still closed.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" I call, standing, secretly grateful to let my arm back down.

Amer makes a few more drowsy sounds before his eyes unclose slowly. "Moorin?" he calls back, clenching his eyes back shut and reopening them before looking around.

"Still don't think we're having breakfast today," I inform him. "But lunch doesn't seem too far off, anyway."

"Good," he mumbles before shifting into a more upright sitting position.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, putting my hands in my jean pockets.

"Eh? Me? Uh... Not too bad, I guess," replies Amer, voice slowly becoming more coherent. "Pretty crappy, but not too bad. How about you?"

"Better than you," I half-laugh, looking at my shoes for a second. "Just one cut, not too deep. Got some soil in it, but I disinfected it. Oh, we're out of disinfectant, by the way."

"Mmm-kay," Amer responds, stretching his shoulders a little and cringing all the way. "And you? Raivis?"

At the mention of his name, Raivis, whose tremors have crept back one way or the other, jumps. "A-a-ah?" he stammers, obviously behind in the conversation.

"Are you still feeling all right?" Amer repeats.

"U-u-uh, ye-yeah?" Upon receiving an odd look from Amer, Raivis adds, "M-m-maybe?"

"Wha?" Amer starts. "Why are you changing your mind? Just—just tell me if you're okay!"

"Uh-b-buh, uh, yes, s-sir!" Raivis blathers, squirming like he's just been called on in a pop quiz. "I, uh, I-I-I-I-I..." He seems too frantic all of a sudden to come up with an answer, which makes him more frantic.

"Hey, Raivis," I start, interrupting and resting a hand on his shoulder. "You want to grab our canteens? They're just a few metres along the side of the wall."

"Yeah!" he gasps, hurrying to his feet. "Canteens—th-those are good." He scrambles off, leaving Amer to watch in absolute confusion.

I stride back over to the most physically damaged of us, who's still staring off where Raivis just left.

"Is it just me, or is he acting really weird today?" he starts.

"He definitely is," I concede, taking a seat.

Amer's bewildered expression hasn't faded. "But... Why?"

I meet his gaze for a second before looking away with a sigh. "Isn't it obvious?" I mutter, dropping my voice. "He's scared of you."

Amer's eyes turn wide as saucers. "What?" he responds incredulously. "But—how—how could he be afraid of me?"

"Well..." I lace my fingers together. "You know he was scared to death of Big Bad Vahn."

"Yeah..." he responds, not knowing how this ties in at all.

"Well, that was mostly because Vahn was way stronger than us—the strongest person in the little sphere our world has become here. And, well, you just proved you're stronger than Vahn."

"But-but," Amer stammers, trying to defend himself before I'm through.

"Amer," I stop him. "Think about it. Seeing you, drenched in blood, standing over the corpse of who used to be the strongest person in the world... Cripes, man, that's enough to give me a few minutes of shudders. But that kid?" I thumb over in the direction Raivis left and shake my head.

Amer stares, horrified, as the information sinks in.

"But-but-but he's not supposed to be scared of me!" he cries hoarsely. "How—wha—I..." He trails off into disbelieving gasps, sounding almost about to cry.

"Relax," I say even more quietly, knowing Raivis must have already gotten ahold of our canteens. "You just have to remind him of that. Tactfully, mind you, but it shouldn't be that hard. He knows what kind of person you are, even if he's been blinded to it a little bit. Just talk to him, and things ought to work themselves out eventually."

"Yeah?" Amer takes a deep breath and lets it out.

"Yeah." We sit in silence for a moment.

And then we hear Raivis scream.