Author's note: Sorry for the late chapter, everyone! I meant to put this up yesterday. I'll be more careful to make sure I get chapters up on time. Enjoy!

Devorac took a deep breath and licked rainwater off his lips. His hood was down, allowing the light drizzle to pepper his head. The cool drops were wonderfully soothing. The forest was dim, indicating the approach of night. He sat down against a tree to rest, but set his pack close by and kept a tight grip on his axe. He'd spent all of the fourth day of the Games trying to track down the girl from District 12. Throughout his search, his mind had drifted back to their brief clash over and over; he struggled to piece together exactly how she had avoided his attacks and even managed to wound him. He couldn't say that his confidence in his fighting ability wasn't shaken by his inability to kill such a small, frail-looking girl. And while he had found signs of a trail and started to follow it, he couldn't be sure that it was her trail, or even a human's trail. It was possible that he was accidentally tracking an animal, although he thought that probably wasn't the case. Once he realized that dusk was approaching, he had decided to put his hunt for the girl on hold and search for a suitable place to camp for the night. About an hour later, he had located the small clearing where he now sat, giving his weary body a break.

When he had given himself what he felt was an adequate amount of rest, he got up and began setting the usual traps around his campsite. In the midst of tying a string to the base of a bush, a red glow burst from a nearby tree trunk. Devorac quickly finished a simple knot and straightened up to watch the projection of deaths. The symbol of Panem morphed into a round face framed by curly brown hair: the girl from District 10. Then came the boy from District 9. His expression was one of thinly veiled fear; in many ways, it was a less intense version of the face he'd worn just before Devorac cut him open. After that, the projection ended; Devorac waited until his eyes readjusted before continuing with his snares.

Once he'd finished setting traps, he pitched his tent and settled inside. He unrolled a thick blanket. He'd snatched it up as soon as he saw it in the Cornucopia, knowing how useful a blanket would be in the Games. Its myriad uses made it one of the most versatile tools he could have; in fact, he'd heard claims that it was possible to survive in any environment with just a knife and a blanket. While he wasn't so sure he believed that, the message of the blanket's importance wasn't lost on him. Tonight, however, his use of the blanket was conventional: nights in the rainforest became very cold, and the blanket afforded him some warmth and comfort. Devorac was soon fast asleep.

His transition from asleep to awake was so seamless, it took him a few seconds to realize he was conscious. He quickly realized that pressure on his chest was what had awakened him. At first, he thought he was experiencing sleep paralysis. A beam of moonlight filtered through his tent, silhouetting the slim figure of a person sitting on Devorac's chest. Devorac immediately reached for his axe, which he always kept beside him as he slept. This action led him to recognize two facts: one, that it wasn't sleep paralysis because he could move his arm; and two, that his attacker had moved his axe just out of reach while he slept. The attacker raised a knife to strike.

Now fully awake, Devorac grabbed the attacker's pants near the hips and forcefully bucked his hips upward. At the same time, he pushed with his arms. His attacker toppled off him, freeing him to scramble toward his axe and snatch it up. He got to his feet, making sure to grab the blanket with his free hand, and retreated outside the tent; its close quarters would provide the attacker's knife the advantage. His mind was reeling. How had the attacker invaded his campsite so successfully? All of his traps were noisy enough to wake him up if they were triggered, and one of them was even connected to the zipper on his tent.

Not a full second after he backed out of the tent, the attacker followed, swinging a meat cleaver. Devorac feinted a one-handed swing of his axe in order to curb his opponent's assault. To his surprise, he recognized her as the girl from District 12. He had spent all day tracking her, only for her to ambush him a second time. Despite his frustration and shock, he was glad he'd had the foresight to grab the blanket. He'd been trained to use it as a weapon, much like Roman gladiators had used nets centuries before. His opponent's greatest weapon was her agility; used properly, the blanket could restrict her movement, leaving her vulnerable.

The girl's eyes had a determined glint as she stared down Devorac. It was like her inner warrior didn't realize what a small, fragile body it was trapped in. Devorac swung the blanket at her legs, but she reflexively stepped back. She tried to dart to his left and slash at him, but he swung the blanket again, more quickly than she'd anticipated. It wrapped itself over her head and torso, obscuring her vision completely. As she stumbled backward, frantically trying to unravel the blanket, Devorac let go of it and held his axe with both hands. He stepped forward and swung horizontally, cleaving through the blanket and into her side.

She fell, screaming in pain and fear. Knowing that the wound had rendered her harmless, Devorac reached down with his left hand and yanked the nearly-unraveled blanket off her. He tossed it aside and looked down at the girl, who clutched her massive wound and continued to scream, although not as loudly. Her right hand still gripped the cleaver tight; he pinned it down with his foot, removed it from her grip with his left hand, and tossed it aside as well. The inner warrior was gone, the fight was over, and now a scared twelve-year-old girl was all that remained. Devorac spoke in a voice that tried and failed to be soothing: "It's over now. Stop moving. Let me end your misery." Then, once her writhing slowed, he swiftly separated her head from her body.

Once he pulled his axe out of the soil, he retrieved his blanket, which now had a cut and a considerable amount of blood in it, and the girl's cleaver. It would make a good backup weapon, being dangerous psychologically as well as physically. He gazed back at the body, then around his campsite. With a sigh, he went to take down his tent. He wouldn't get any more sleep tonight.