A/N: Sorry for making you wait so long. I hope this chapter makes up for wait.

Muttations, no question about it. I've never seen these mutts, but they're no natural-born animals. They resemble huge wolves, but what wolf can balance easily on its hind legs? What wolf waves the rest of the pack forward with its front paw as though it had a wrist? These things I can see at a distance. Up close, I'm sure their more menacing attributes will be revealed.

In the distance I can see the Cornucopia, and I run at a dead sprint for the landmark. Whatever plan I had before it's now useless. Climbing a tree is out of the question. Peeta would never make it, and we would be sitting ducks. Going back to the cave now is so illogical it's laughable, we'd be dead before we reached the river.

Our only hope is getting to the Cornucopia. I think.

Then I had a bleak thought.

Peeta!

I turn just as my hands were touching the metal tail when I remember I'm part of a team. He's about fifteen yards behind me, hobbling as fast he can, but the mutts are closing fast. I send an arrow into the pack killing one, tripping two more, but three more jump in to take their place. Peeta waves me up the horn.

"Go, Katniss! Go!" Peeta shouts.

He's right. I can't protect either of us on the ground. I start climbing, scaling the Cornucopia on my hands and feet. The pure gold surface has been designed to resemble the woven horn we fill at harvest, so there are little seems and ridges to get a decent hold on. But after a day in the arena sun, the metal feels hot enough to blister my hands. Just as I get to the top of the horn, I hear Peeta cry out. I twist around to see that he's just reach the tail, and the mutts are right on his heels.

"Climb!" I yell.

Peeta's climb is not only hampered by the leg, but the knife in his hand.

"Get rid of the knife!" I yell, as I load my bow and send an arrow flying down the throat of the first mutt that placed its paws the on metal.

As it dies the creature lashes out, inadvertently opening gashes on a few of its companions. That's when I get good a look at its claws. Four inches, and clearly razor-sharp. A scream rings out, and my attention is returned to my partner. Just as he was climbing up on the top of the landmark, one of the beast had jumped up and slashed out with its claws, opening a nice gash on his leg.

Blood starts to flow from the wound. I can see that the wound is bad, fatal even. I run over and rip my jacket off, and he hands me the knife. I cut a section of my jacket off, fashioning a tourniquet; just like I've seen my mom do a few times in the past. As I'm tending to Peeta's leg the dogs are walking circles on our side, but they're not moving to the other side, which is weird. I take in the dogs, and their physical characteristics. There are nineteen of them, and their fur ranges in color from black to brown, to red, and even a blonde one. They all have collars on them, and a few that I can see have numbers on them. I even see a tiny one near the edge of the pack. Before I can think on more on this topic I had finished with Peeta's leg, the dogs started sniffing the air, and all starting point at us.

What? I've heard of dogs doing something like that. If the pick up a scent they point at it, but they already have our scents. Oh, crap! I think.

Peeta and were getting back to our feet, when I realize that we had company. I feel Cato throwing me towards the front of the Cornucopia. I hit my head, which sends me into to a daze. I hear a something colliding, and Peeta grunting as he falls to the deck. I turn to look up at Cato, and I can see blood on his face and forehead, and he had a crazed looked in his eyes. The look of a person that wants to kill you. I miss the mace in his hand, but that didn't matter because just as he was rearing back to swing on me, Peeta gets back to his feet and tackles him to the deck, and they start wrestling. Peeta picks him up in a bear hug, and starts walking Cato to the tail of the Cornucopia, slamming him into the elevated part; momentarily winding Cato.

Oh my God! I think.

I knew Peeta was strong, but he just picked Cato up like he was a rag doll and started walking with him. Something catches my attention. I look at Peeta's leg and its bleeding again, but at a slower rate.

We have to kill him soon, or Peeta's going to bleed out, and were both dead. I can still hear the dogs growling up at us. I see Cato start to get some leverage on Peeta, so I run in to help evens the odds. Which was useless because just as I got close enough Cato catches me with an elbow, which sends me reeling and Peeta flying. Cato grabs Peeta by his jacket and throws him back towards the tail of the land mark. Just as Peeta is starting to get back to a crawling position, Cato hits Peeta in his chest.

How is Cato still holding his weapon? I think.

I'm scrambling to get back to my feet as Cato is walking me down, and we both slip. I can see a line of Peeta's blood all over the surface of the Cornucopia. Just as I'm getting back to my feet Cato was already on me. Cato swings his mace twice, and I easily dodge out of the way, but when he swings for a third time I stop him by jamming one hand into his throat and the other one into his weapon arm. It seemed like a bright idea when I thought out in my head, but I forgot to factor in the weight and size difference. Cato is overpowers me, and then sweeps my feet out from under me.

I hear more roaring as the dogs come running up. I feel my head dangling over the side of the Cornucopia, and I can feel both of Cato's hands on my windpipe, collapsing it. I start choking, and gasping for air. I start to see black rings in the corner of my vision. This goes on for about thirty seconds when Peeta finally regains his wits, runs over ripping Cato off of me, and body slams him onto his back. I suck in as much air as possible. I hear another one of Peeta's body slams, and then both of them are scurrying up the tail. Just as I clear the black rings out of my vision I slide to grab my bow, draw the string back with an arrow nocked and train it on Cato, but he's got Peeta in some kind of choke with Peeta between the two of us.

Dirty Career! I think.

I'm gritting my teeth. I can see Peeta is in pain; either from the choke, the blooding leg wound, or both. Cato has me at a stand-off.

"Go on. Shoot." Cato says.

I release the tension in my string, wanting to hear what Cato has to say.

"Then we both go down, and you'd win." Cato says.

My eyes shoot to Peeta, and he closes his eye, trying to block out the pain.

"Go on. I'm dead anyway." Cato says.

Something about his words, him being dead anyways, pulls me up short. I lower my bow a bit, and wait for an opening.

"I always was, right?" Cato asked.

I look back at Peeta's leg, and his pant leg is completely soaked.

"I didn't know that until now." Cato says.

What are you babbling on about? I think.

"How's that? Is that what they want?" Cato asks, taking his eyes off of me and loosening his grip on the choke.

I aim to take another shot, but Cato looks back at me, and puts Peeta back in the choke. I loosen the slack on the string.

"No." Peeta gasps.

"No, no." Cato says, mocking Peeta.

I watch as Cato changes his grip on Peeta's neck, preparing to break it.

"I could still do this." Cato says.

The fear in my body reaches critical mass, but I tamp it down; refusing to let it paralyze me.

"I can still do this." Cato continues. "One more kill."

I see Peeta look at me, and we make eye contact.

"It's the only thing I know how to do." Cato says, but Peeta's index finger distracts me.

Peeta is pointing at Cato's hand.

"Bring pride to my district." Cato says.

Peeta points back to Cato's hand, and I realize what he mean; shoot his hand. Peeta says with his eyes.

"Not that it matters." Cato says.

I redraw the arrow and let it fly, Cato tries to take cover behind Peeta but my arrow lodges into his hand I hear Cato scream momentarily, but Peeta elbows Cato in the chest and then push him off the Cornucopia. Just as Cato disappears, Peeta collapses to the deck. I run over and grab the knife and my coat, then I run over to Peeta. I hear loud thud as Cato his the ground, and then the mutts pounced on him. I hear Cato's screams, some of them sound like he is pleading for mercy. I stop what I'm doing load another arrow onto my bow, and kill Cato; after that I turn my attention Peeta. I can hear the canon go off, and I can see Cato's picture in the sky.

My adrenaline is starting to wear off, and I can feel the bitter cold; I ignore the cold and turn my attention to Peeta. When he fell during the fight with Cato, the makeshift tourniquet had come loose. His leg is bleeding as badly as ever; all our supplies, our packs, remain down by the lake where we abandoned them when we fled from the mutts. I have to make another tourniquet, but I have no idea how long I will have to leave this on Peeta's leg. I cut the sleeve off my coat and tie it above the knee. I have to tie the tourniquet off with something, but what?

I don't have a stick, but I still have a few arrows left so I stick an arrow in the tourniquet to strength the bond.

"That was kind of you." Peeta said.

It was at time I realize that all the dogs had left, but Cato's body was still in the arena.

Strange. I think.

"What was?" I ask.

"You shooting Cato." Peeta asked.

"He may have been our enemy, but nobody deserves to go out like that." I say.

"Cato was ready to choke you to death." Peeta said.

"Which would have been quicker, than being eaten alive. If I had to, and you were in Cato's shoes, I wouldn't have hesitated." I say.

"You would have killed me?" Peeta asks.

I look at Peeta and his skin is gray and sweaty in the moon light, he's lost a lot of blood.

"Would you like it if I let you die slowly?" I ask, my chin quivering.

"No." Peeta, says sleepily.

The irony of the situation is not lost on me. If Claudius Templesmith doesn't come through, Peeta will die slowly. Unless. I think.

I see Peeta start to doze off.

"Don't fall asleep." I say.

I'm not sure that's the exact medical term, but I'm terrified that Peeta drifts off he might not wake again; if Peeta dies in here, I know I'll go completely insane. This went on for quite some time, me telling Peeta to stay awake, but them my body finally collapses; the bitter cold knocking me out. Peeta pulls me into him, covering both of us in his coat, and we then both fall asleep. The sun is already up and I can feel Peeta running his hand through my hair. I start to stir, and he opens his coat.

"I have a question for you." I say.

"Yeah, what's that?" Peeta asks.

I try to be as seductive as I can, forgetting that they haven't declared us victors yet.

"What was that you were saying about wrestling skills being useless?" I ask

Peeta rolls his eyes, and gives me a kiss. It was a deep one, but something in the back of my mind caused me to break it off.

"What?" Peeta asks.

I look around, and I see that Cato's body is still on the ground; we both share a look.

"Is it because of our proximity to the body?" Peeta asks.

"Maybe." I say, but a feeling in the back of my mind is telling me no.

Peeta grabs the knife, and then we slide down off the side of the Cornucopia. My body is stiff from the cold night, so I can't imagine how Peeta feels. I say that we should head for the lake, but that wasn't going to solve anything. Somehow we make it to the lake; I'm cupping some water in my hands for Peeta and bring a second to my lips.

A mockingjay gives the long, low whistle, and tears refill my eyes as the hovercraft appears and takes Cato's body away. Now they will come for us, or show their true colors.

As I expected. Nothing, we're still here. I think.

I feel a sense of dread wash over me as Peeta asks.

"What are they waiting for?" Peeta asks weakly. Between the loss of the tourniquet and the effort it took to get to the lake, his wound opened again.

"I'm afraid to say it." I say, standing up.

Peeta looks at me expecting an explanation, but we hear the booming voice of Claudius Templesmith in the arena.

"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner can be allowed." He says "Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

There's a small burst of static and then nothing more. I stare at Peeta in disbelief as the truth sinks in. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that they had no intention of letting us both live. This was devised so that the final showdown would be the most dramatic in the history of the Games. And like a fool, I bought into it.

"If you think about, it's not that surprising." He says softly.

I watch as he painfully makes it to his feet. Then he's moving towards me, as if in slow motion, his hand pulling the knife from his belt –

Before I'm even aware of my actions, my bow is loaded with an arrow pointed straight at his heart. Peeta raise his eyebrows and I see that the knife has already left his hand on its way to the lake where it splashes in the water. I lower my weapons, and I feel my face burning in shame; thinking that Peeta was going to try to kill me.

"No." He says. "Do it."

Peeta limps towards me, and thrust the weapon back in my hand. I can see something on his face, in his features.

He wants this! Peeta wants me to kill him! I think.

"I won't. I can't." I say, the raw emotion choking my voice.

"Do it before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato." He says

"Then you shoot me." I say furiously, shoving the weapons back at him. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!" And as I say it, I know death right now, right here would be easier of the two.

"You know I can't. Peeta says, discarding the weapons. "Fine, I'll go first anyway." He leans down and rips the bandage off his leg, eliminating the final barrier between his blood and the earth.

"No, you can't kill yourself." I say. I'm on my knees, desperately trying to plaster the bandage back onto his wound.

"Katniss." He says. "It's what I want."

YOU FOOL! I think. It's what I want to say, but I don't.

"You're not leaving me here alone." I say in tears. Because if he dies here, I'll never go home, not really. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to think my way out. I'd be like Haymitch, just a shell of my former self.

"Listen." He says, pulling me to my feet. "We both know that they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please take it. For me."

And he goes on about how he loves me, what life would be without me but I've stopped listening because his previous words are trapped in my mind.

We both know that they have to have their victor.

Yes. They have to have a victor. Without a victor, the whole thing would blow up in the Gamemakers' faces. They'd have failed the Capitol. Might possibly even be executed, slowly and painfully while the cameras broadcast it to every screen in the country.

If Peeta and I were to die, or they thought we were. I think.

My fingers fumble with the pouch on my belt. Peeta sees it and clamps his hand on my wrist.

"No, I won't let you." He says.

"Trust me." I whisper, with a wink.

He holds my gaze for long moment, and then he lets me go. I loosen the top of the pouch and pour a spoonful of berries into Peeta's palm. Then I fill my own.

"On the count of three?" I ask.

Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. "The count of three." He says

We stand, our backs pressed together, our empty hands locked tight.

"Hold them out. I want everybody to see." He says.

They wanted a dramatic showdown, they're getting a dramatic showdown. I think, as I spread out my fingers; letting the dark berries glisten in sun.

I give Peeta's hand one last squeeze as a signal, as a good-bye, and we begin counting.

"One."

Maybe I'm wrong. I think.

"Two."

Maybe they don't care if we both die. I think.

"Three."

It's too late to change my mind. I lift my hand to my mouth, taking one last look at the world. The berries had just passed my lips when the trumpets begin to blare. The frantic voice Claudius Templesmith's shouts above them.

"Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I'm pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-four Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. I give you – the tributes of District Twelve!"