Thank you guys for bearing with me! I think I'm back! I may be a little slow getting back into things, but I think for the most part...I'm good. I'm feeling better. I'm able to eat, and I'm putting back on some weight. Boots the cat is still missing, and it's looking like...he's not coming back. It's been rough, but things are looking up besides for finding out I'm allergic to horseraddish...who'd have thought?

Anyways, I want to tell everyone about something very big and important that happened about... a week ago. I help run the 24 authors collaboration and we got a message about being interviewed for a publication. It was decided that I should talk to her as I'm the one in charge/does the updating/etc most of the time.

The interviewer talked to me for about thirty minutes about 24 collab and about my stuff and opinions. At the end of the phone interview, I asked her if this was really going to be published (the interview, I mean) and she said yes about a week from Thursday. So this Thursday or the next there could be an article about me/the collab I help run. I have no idea how much of a focus or...anything. I'm really quite nervous about the whole thing. I'll mention more details with my next update which I'm hoping to be back on Wednesday night.

The official end date of this SHOULD be the 23rd at the latest. This and the next chapter were supposed to be one chapter but because of size was cut in half.

Thanks for sticking with me and PLEASE comment to let me know you're still out there! Don't worry, I'll be getting back to all my review, favourites, etc that came while I was sick very soon. I'm working on them (and the several hunderd on the 24 account).

Edit: I'm hoping to have the next update of Phoenix up before Thursday (hoping for Wednesday, but I'm not going to push it)

War is eternity jammed into frantic minutes that will fill a lifetime with dreams and nightmares.
John Cory

My arrow plunges into the uncovered throat of a peacekeeper as I load another one. The second catches another in the eye. For a moment the men around them are stunned, until they realize ten of them are down without a sound. Evan drops to his back and slides down and off the roof. I can hear the slap of his boots as he hits the ground in a crouch.

He hits the corner of his building just as I hit mine. We each fire off another shot into the peacekeepers before we run back towards the barricades together. We dash through an alley, around buildings, and make our way about forty yards further back before we take our positions again.

At first, they're confused. From this distance, it's easy to pick them off before moving to another vantage point. They can't get a bead on us, there's no echoes to help them with our location. They're down twenty more men, before they get to cover. It's too risky to try for another shot, so we make our way back to base.

We retreat to the first barricade and take cover. Evan gathers up the longbows and takes them. I'm panting, as I pull the rifle up to my shoulder. No one is advancing, we've bought ourselves some more time.

…

The sun is dipping down as more and more peacekeepers arrive. They're flooding in like a river after a dam's been busted. We can see them milling around, too wary to advance towards us until dark. It's obvious they plan to rush us at nightfall, but we're ready for them.

Cristoff comes with our group this time, each of us armed with rifles and long bows. We move stealthily through the familiar streets. Each of us taking a different vantage point, besides for Cristoff who is planting dynamite charges. I notch an arrow, as I crouch in the shadow of a chimney on a roof I use to pass by on my way to work. Carefully, I aim at one of the peacekeepers who seems to be in charge of a small group by the way he's gesturing and giving directions.

From this distance, I can't even see the colour of his eyes. I can't see the distinction in his features. It's part of what makes sniping the enemy off so easy. You're distanced from them—and it makes your feelings distanced too. The distance keeps you from sympathizing or caring. My fingers don't tremble or as hesitate as the arrow flies straight into his throat. It hits, just as I reload and send off another.

There are several more peacekeepers dropping from being hit or in an attempt to hide from our attack. Another arrow is notched and released into the top of a peacekeeper's head as he crouches behind a barricade. The ground is smeared with blood, and there's panicked cries filling the air.

As he falls, I begin to move. Dropping to my back I slide off the roof and land. The sounds of footsteps rushing towards me grows louder as I pull up from my crouch. A peacekeeper shoots around the corner and I release an arrow into his heart.

I take off running down the alleyway to another alley. I dart down it and toward a dark crumpled figure. The body lays at an odd and unnatural angle. As I creep closer to the body with the sounds of peacekeepers not far behind, I see that it's Ethan. Kneeling down I quickly check his pulse even though I know I won't find one. My fingers touch his warm skin, but he's gone.

I catch up his long bow, arrows, rifle, and empty his pockets as I get back to my feet. Darting and dashing through the backstreets, I put the peacekeepers somewhat behind me. It's everything I can do to not pant, if I don't get further ahead then nothing will matter at all. I feel the hard ground beneath my feet as I pump my arms to go faster and faster. I can hear the shouts of them moving forward just as I reach the corner and run out on to the main street.

I'm perfectly visible to them, and they are perfectly visible to me—the front most of them only twenty-five yards away. I raise the long bow as they raise their guns. I'm just a little swifter, my arrow sinking into one of the men's throats as his gun goes off into the ground. My second arrow hits a man in the shoulder as he turns. His gun comes up as my arrow pierces his skin, and I see the flash of the muzzle enveloped by an explosion radiating from beside him.

My fingers dig into the earth, my ears are ringing as I search for my bow. I feel a sharp sting in my shoulder as I fight to my knees. I notch an arrow and try to focus on what's behind me. The peacekeepers are dead—mangled and scattered. I pull myself unsteadily to my feet wiping at the blood splattered all around me, it still falls lightly like a rain—pink mist. That's what we call it when an explosion happens and particles of what once was human pours down like rain.

It takes a few minutes, and several more explosions going off before I reach the barrier. I'm greeted with the news that another girl—Andrea had been killed by a Peacekeeper. Cristoff and Meryl weren't back from planting the explosions, but it wasn't time to worry about them yet.

Sitting down, I feel fingers touching my arm. Careful hands pry into my skin, making me grimace with pain. I turn to see Amelia kneeling there beside me, her fingers pulling out a piece of shrapnel of the worst kind—bone, foreign bone.

Luckily, it's not too deep and the gunshot that I received is superficial—imbedded in the flesh above my shoulder and close to my neck. A few more inches and I'd have joined Ethan and Andrea.

…

All night long, we've had firefights. I'm being forced to take it relatively easy though. If I try to fire my gun or exert too much physically, the wound opens again. Finally, Amelia uses the measure that we learned in the battlefield—applying a layer of glue over the wound. Instead of just applying the glue, she stitches it up then puts the glue on to cover it.

For a long time, peace stretches out and the sun rises lazily in the sky to warm the chilled ground. Sprigs of grass are showing where boots haven't grounded them out. It'll be spring soon, and the flowers will be in bloom. It's a time of rejoicing usually for those of us who've made it through the winter, but some of us lay here knowing we'll never actually see spring.

The acrid smell of smoke rises into the air, and I know that somewhere behind us they're burning the bodies that we have. Their spirits are being released into the sky rather than buried beneath earth, imprisoned by the chains that had bound them to life. The earth cannot hold you—may your memories warm the hearts of those you touched, and may your ashes blow free as you never were. May you find peace at last.

My mind finishes the last rites they are given, the only kind of peace that we can give them—peace that we will not be allowed to give other dead in a few days. These are the words that we may never get to say over Aelman's body.

Just barely seventeen, and he lies there hardly able to breathe. Amelia is doing everything within her power to keep him alive, but his condition changes from moment to moment. She tells us what she fears will happen and what is happening—to us it's all just scary words. Lung collapse, blood clots, infections…all kinds of issues that she only has limited resources to help.

Somewhere out in the woods, Jackson is running with Alexia. They could be dead already and we wouldn't know—we may never know. But even with the pain of not knowing about them—about knowing that Aelman is probably going to slowly and painfully slip away from us, there's a worse pain.

No one has come yet.

There's still time, there's still hope that District 11 will pull through and come out our aid. They could still be fighting…At least that's what we tell our men, because the truth is they aren't coming. If they were on their way, there would be fewer peacekeepers. There would be a more fractured group here fighting us while being divided with fighting the forces from eleven that would be coming from behind. But the peacekeepers pour in with more force and frequency making our odds even more insurmountable.

We tell our men that eleven could be coming at any moment, because we hope they'll change their mind. We hope that they'll notice the decrease in people guarding them and take advantage while we're being overrun. It's not too much to hope that they'll keep their promise, is it? It's not too much to hope that they'll see the benefit of a life without the Capitol.

…

By the time we realize they're assaulting us, it's almost too late to fall back for those of us who are just past the first barricade. The sky is just beginning to show signs that down will come within the hour, when my eyes open by some sixth sense. Last night, we moved back all of our forces except for a small reserve

It was evident that we were losing ground as the forces moved closer to us, but we had expected more time. We heard the sound of footsteps moments before they were on us. I barely had time to get to my heels before the first peacekeeper came over. The scream rises in my throat as I hit him hard with the butt of my rifle.

Our guard is overwhelmed quickly, the light having made it difficult to see them coming. They expected more of us, it's evident by the size of their force. They keep pushing us, and the butt of my rifle connects with another peacekeeper's face as I scream the order, "Fall back!"

Another wave of peacekeepers is just approaching the blockade, a straggler or two of our forces wounded or caught in the fray there unable to fall back. My heart catches, but it doesn't change what's about to happen—what we've planned for. Even though I know it's about to happen, I can't tear my eyes away as the explosives shatter the entire blockade. As the flash flares up, it sears my retinas forcing me to look away as I'm thrown back by the force of it.

Once again, I find my body impacting with the hard ground that still holds a chill. Warm liquid rains down on me, as the sounds of screams overwhelm the ringing in my ears. I push myself to my knees knowing that there's no time to waste—that was only the first explosion.

Someone grabs my arm, helping me to my feet, "Up we go!" We skirt a dismembered leg—not clad in white, one of ours—before coming on a few more wounded. He let's go of my arm to help, the white band around his arm signifying that he was helping instead of fighting. I stand there for a moment, looking behind me at the devastation the explosion had left in its wake. Peacekeepers were cautiously moving over, looking at the dead and wounded.

It makes me sick to know that some of the wounded back there are ours, ones that we can't help. They are the ones we had to choose to leave behind. I try to catch my bearings, try to guess how long has passed since the first explosion. Three minutes maybe…that gives us a minute more at the most.

The barrel of my rifle is slippery, and when I wipe it on my clothes it leaves thick red streaks on the soiled clothing. I fix my eyes on them, but they're proceeding so slowly and barely pushing through the wreckage. I back up slowly, throwing my arm out and shouting that it's time to fall back. I've waited as long as I can, at any moment the rest of the explosives could go off and we still have a few yards until safety.

We gather up the wounded and fall back over the next barricade thirty yards away. This barricade is just like the last, but with a large gap between houses. We'd spent the time knocking down and moving the closest house to make the gap wider. There's just enough time for us to move far enough back or get as low behind the barricade as we can before the earth rocks with the next series of explosions.

The rows of houses that once lined the stretch we held, along with the other natural barricades are blown away. We'd spent all of the first day lining the heavily housed area with explosives so that when it fell we would be able to take away any natural barricades for them when we were forced to abandon it. It depletes our precious store of dynamite but it gives us more safety and buys us more time.

The screams echo throughout the day as the wounded and dying from both side are cared for. We allow them to collect their wounded as long as they don't approach us too closely. The sun dries the blood onto my skin until I can peel off the layers with my fingernails. I chip away the flakes as I lay there under the eave of a house. I'm tired all the way down to my bones. My battered and bruised body aches more and more as the adrenaline fades away into exhaustion.

My fingers hold the arrow steady as I see him walking across the grass plain. My practiced fingers let the arrow slip between my fingers, and my sight zooms along with the arrow until it pierces Horcraf's skin. But instead of hitting him—my intended target, it is me.

The arrow pierces my lung, and chips away at the bones of my ribs as I fall to the ground. I feel like a balloon that's air is slowly being released as I lay there breathing in the homey smell of earth and grass. My fingers falter as they reach behind my back, despite the intense pain, unable to reach the arrow. The air leaves my lungs, but I can't force it back in no matter how hard I try. I'm drowning…suffocating…My fingers dig into the earth as my lungs struggle to do something, but nothing comes. I can't get the oxygen I need and I want to scream with the agony it causes. But you can't scream when you have no air.

My eyes fly open to see the setting sun. I can feel my own panting breath, and I try to even it out to not disturb the soldier sleeping beside me. He doesn't stir though. At first, I think he's just so tired that he didn't hear me—but then I see the bloodstained cloth on his chest and know that I won't be waking him.

Somehow, I don't find it disconcerting that I've been sleeping beside a dead man.