Sorry for the long wait guys ^_^

I'm 18 now. Whoohoo! I can do what I want! I dyed part of my hair purple and blue. And I am now a Doctor Who fan. I probably will go hunting for the Old episodes soon.

Just so you know, I'm going back and editing the earlier chapters. I've done 1 - 3 so far. You should read them. They're much better.

And Kazz? Yes, I know. I am mean. But now you can read the rest of that scene ^_^

When I walk into the ice cream store, I know immediately that things will not be same as at home. Unlike in the Village, the man behind the counter does not know me; does not smile and immediately ready a scooper when he saw customers walk in. Instead he regards us with something akin to disdain and snaps, "No free eats."

Bree and Adrion were outside talking, maybe about me, but I doubt we'd have gotten this kind of welcome if they'd come in with us. But the man wasn't done. "And if you try to swipe anything, I'll lock you in the freezer."

Well aren't you pleasant?He must get all kinds of kids coming in here hoping to con him out of a cone if that's how he greets his customers. Two teenagers and one who looks like a teenager, dusty from the walk and covered in sawdust, in Sera's case, with no adults and no money clutched in our hands. But I still don't like it.

"Good to know," I say coolly, scanning the walls. "Though, it's hard to know what things cost if we can't see any prices."

"You better not be wasting my time," the man warns.

Sera blinks and decides to inform him, "you're mean."

"Are you rude to all your customers?" I ask. "Because you know, I have absolutely no problem going home to get ice cream for her and taking my money with me."

"But that'll take forever," Sera grumbles. I turn my head so the man can't see and wink at her.

"Er, no," the man says quickly, "My apologies."

"Hmm, what do you want?"

Sera presses her face to the glass like someone half her age would, looking at the array of colors and names. Ronan hangs back with me, watching her. "You know what I want."

I leaned in close, setting my hand on his back. "Me?"

Ronan chuckles, "No, yes, but here ice cream."

"Strawberry, then?"

"Of course."

The door opens and I know without looking that it's Adrion and Bree. "No free eats!" The man says. I step away from Ronan and get a look at their affronted faces. "Are these yours?"

"These are my kids, yes." Bree says.

"So, what do you want, Sera?" I ask. I get them each the biggest size cone for their ice cream, make sure they taste right, and even then it barely makes a dent in the amount I brought. I dig the money out of my bag, the man's eyes bug out of his head when he sees the wad of bills.

As we're about to leave, I remember what I'd told Bree and I turn around, walking back to the counter. "Oh, by the way, I'll be coming back in two weeks and buying everything you have in stock."

The man blinks. "I…sorry?"

"I am going to buy everything you have in stock," I say slowly. "And give it to the kids around here."

The man blinks again. "Uh…um…well that's…"

"I'm just giving you a warning so you'll be ready when we show up. I'll probably have two friends with me, too. Tell your boss or whoever owns the place. …You might want to write it down."

The man nods quickly, seeming dazed, grabbing a pen and paper from somewhere behind the counter.

"And your name is…?" he asks.

"Dylan Syle, I live in Victor's Village."

Then pen stops moving and his gaze flicks up to me in disbelief. "That ain't even funny."

"I'm not laughing."

"Salty seas…are you serious?"

I arch my eyebrows and say nothing.

The man blinks a few times, considering me, and then sighs. "Alright, but if you're lying—"

"Do you have a phone around here? Would you like for me to give you a number you can reach me at?" I ask.

"That would help. Dad won't believe this unless he hears it himself."

I told him the number. "That's the number to my parent's house. I'll let them know as soon as I can. I probably won't be able to come to the phone right then and there, though. Have whoever answers take a message and give them a chance to come find me.'

He nods, still scribbling. "Alright, and…you are prepared to cover the cost?"

"Money is no obstacle."

I think he flinches. "Right."

We leave the shop a few minutes later loaded up with our ice creams, and head back towards the Flit house. Once again, Sera leads the way, Bree and Adrion walk behind us, and Ronan walks alongside me. If I sensed eyes on us before, I can feel them now. Greedy eyes follow us, eyes locked on the treats we hold, probably wondering if it's worth the risk of trying to steal them from us. And I feel even better about what I'll be doing, soon.

"Keep an eye on your bag," Ronan warns. "Pickpockets around here are damn good."

"I imagine so."

I slurp down a bit of the ice cream, then sigh. "I…I never…seas, Ronan, this place looks like what I saw of District 12. I had no idea there was a place like this here. How? We're supposed to be one of the best districts!"

"Well, where there are people with money, there must be those without," he reasons. "Everywhere has its underbelly. I imagine even District 1 has a slum."

"If the Capitol does I've never seen it."

"Ask Sol."

"I might… Ha. It's probably as nice as Victor's Village," I joke.

He chuckles, "Probably."

"Still. I wish I could do more, but…"

"You can't protect everyone, Dylan."

I flinch. Not even the ones I love. "I know."

Ronan puts his arm around my shoulders and we walk like that for the rest of the way back. Ronan and I have finished our ice cream by then, but his family seems to be savoring every bite and are just over halfway done. They don't get ice cream often, or probably anything really sweet for that matter.

I can't help everybody, I think. But I can help them. I am not above buying someone's love. And if bringing them sweets and delicacies is what it takes to get them to do more than tolerate me, then I'll do it. The ice cream seems to have done the trick for today at least because I'm asked to stay for dinner. Whether or not Bree is being nice or trying to pay me back for everything, I don't know. I don't really care, either. Sometimes I wish I didn't always analyze motives. It'd be nice to just take a gift at face value.

"We have to be back at the edge for the fare car at seven," Ronan warns.

"We'll eat before then, don't worry."

Before going to fix dinner, Bree asks to see Ronan's arm. Ronan stiffens at the request, his eyes going wide with the same fear I'd seen earlier. I automatically reach over and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be scared," I say. "Remember what Ursa told you."

He nods, swallowing, and carefully unwraps the bandage from his arm. I resist the urge to help him, telling myself that he will have to learn to do these things alone. The whole room seems to hold its breath as the last of the bandage falls away and the horrid stitches become visible. No one says anything. No one moves. They stare at his arm, he stares at them, and I stare at all of them.

Then Bree swallows noisily and Sera bursts into tears. It's shocking because Bree is the crier in the family. I have never seen Sera actually cry. "Oh Poseidon…" she gasps then shakes her head. "I can't…" She flees from the room and I hear the door to her room slam.

Despite how horrific it is now, it was nothing compared to seeing it when it happened. The layer of skin surrounding muscle, bone, nerves, spouting blood like a—

I look at Ronan's face and try to force the memory out of my head. I see it enough as it is, in my nightmares. I carefully rewrap it for him then he pulls down the sling and tucks his arm into it. He seems almost ashamed. Adrion stands up a moment later and leaves without a word. Bree remains seated in front of us, staring at her son.

"Say something," Ronan finally demands.

"I don't know what to say." Bree sounds defeated as she slowly says the words. "I really don't."

Ronan sighs, nods, and slumps back in his chair. Bree seems to struggle with something for a second, then she scoots her chair back and heads over to stove. I offer my help even though I can't really cook but she waves me off, saying I've already helped enough and I can't tell whether or not that's a good thing or a bad thing. She said those same words to me in the hospital. So now I have to wonder if I made any lasting progress today. Scooting my chair closer to his, I lean my head against his shoulder and he lifts his arm, the bad one, and slips it around my shoulders.

Once or twice I notice Bree glance our way and pause to watch us. I wonder what she thinks of me. Does she really want me with her son?

I slide my hand across his chest, checking to see if he has it on. I feel a thin line under his shirt and I smile. He does. He looks down at me questioningly and I turn my smile towards him, pulling the necklace out from under my shirt and holding up the peridot on the end for him to see. I never take it off. It's probably one of the only things he can easily get over his head now. With his free hand, he pulls the blue topaz stone from beneath his shirt as well. Similar to mine in size and shape, both on silver chains, they're the closest we'll probably ever get to wedding rings. Only someone who got a good look at both of them would be able to make the connection and we tend to hide them under our shirts, away from curious eyes, but still where we can feel them.

When the family sits down to dinner about an hour later we still have them out. The chains I got long enough to easily conceal under our clothes, but they're short enough to be visible over the table when the three of them look at us. Predictably, it's Sera who mentions them first.

"Whur d'ya git dose?" she asks through a mouthful of potato soup. She points at us with her fork.

I lift another spoonful of soup to my mouth. It's nowhere near as good as the cream of potato soup from the Capitol, but it's still not half bad, all things considering. It needs more flavoring, probably from herbs she doesn't have.

I glance at Ronan out of the corner of my eye and he smiles just a bit, winking once. Yeah, thanks.

"Capitol." I say. "Last time I was there. We get these things called credit cards while we're there and we basically have unlimited money to spend."

"More money?" Bree asks incredulously.

I nod. "Of course, in most of the districts they need all hands on deck, so it's usually victors from 1, 2, and 4 that really take advantage of it." I take another bite and a something occurs to me. "Oh, if there's ever anything you'd like from the Capitol, let me know. I'll get it next time I go."

"She usually brings me a small strawberry cake from this bakery near the Training Center. It's delicious." Ronan says, then adds wistfully, "I wish someone here knew how to make it."

"But what are those?" Sera points again.

"Birthstones," I say. "Every month has a pretty stone assigned to it—don't ask why because I've got no clue—but these are the stones of our birth months. Mine's a peridot for August and his is topaz for December."

"I didn't see them before," she frowns.

"Good. We had them under our shirts." Ronan says. "That's how we usually keep them."

"So no one can see." I add. "And if anyone did see one, they'd have to see the other to make the connection."

"Do they…mean anything?" Bree inquires.

"We're not married if that's what you're asking," Ronan mutters.

"Good."

The soup suddenly tastes flat in my mouth and I struggle to swallow it. After a moment it goes down, but I can't bring myself to eat anymore. Dropping the spoon in my bowl I push myself away from the table, grabbing my bag from the back of my chair, and walk around the table and out the back door, slamming it shut behind me. The day is beginning to cool, but this close to the ocean I can feel the warm air blowing in, along with the rancid smell of the cove. I sit down on the slanted steps and hold my knees to my chest.

So no real lasting progress, not with Adrion and Bree, at least. But it's only been a day. Did I really expect things to work out so quickly? Well, no. But I hoped. In hindsight, I probably should've asked about his family sooner, instead of assuming they knew and were just complying with our wishes to keep everything secret. Maybe then we could've met on better terms. Or maybe I should've just kept my mouth shut and not have told them it was my idea he fight Cora.

I rest my chin on my knees, watching the sky turning from orange to black as the sun slides down the sky. The back of their house faces an alley with uneven rows of houses on either side. Other than some crates and trashcans and trash on the ground, the rocky dirt road is empty. Up the way, a door opens and a young girl jumps down onto the ground, disregarding the rickety-looking stairs entirely. She can't be any older than fifteen. Her clothes are pretty clean considering where she lives, but she's barefoot. Though that could just be because she didn't want to put on shoes, but the possibility is there.

She scurries across the road, leaping nimbly to avoid the various items on the ground, towards the nearest metal trash can and lifts the lid, depositing the contents of the bag in, then pulls back out. It strikes me as odd that she doesn't dump the entire bag. What's the point of dumping your trash into a bag if you're not going to throw the bag away? It can't smell too pleasant. Why not just dump your trash in a pail?

But my day here has already made me reevaluate things. Perhaps they use that bag because they don't have a spare bucket, as awful as it seems. I think the bag is burlap, so it's sturdy if nothing else, but not usually a bag used to line a trash can. So maybe they don't have one. Part of me wants to ask her, but I wouldn't like it if some random person approached me and asked why I didn't dump the sack with the trash and why I was even using a sack like that to begin with.

Completely oblivious to my gaze, she replaces the lid. She does her little nimble run across the street again, clears the steps in one bound, and shuts the door behind her.

The door opens and shuts behind me. I turn my head just enough to see Ronan's shoes, then I look away.

"I mean, it's not like we really ever talked about getting married." I say. "We've been busy training you and, well, it wouldn't have been beneficial to either of us to discuss something like that when you could've very well have been dead in the next year. At least, now we know what they think of me."

"She didn't mean it like that," he says. "She was just glad we hadn't already tied the knot without telling them."

"Oh," I look at the door, feeling suddenly mortified. "Uh. Oops?"

"No, I thought so, too." He prods my lower back with his foot. "She wants to apologize to you."

"Then she can come out here." I say resolutely and turn from the door, lifting my nose into the air.

He sighs, "Brat." I hear the wood creak as he turns, and the door opening. "Mom," he calls. I fix my eyes on the door the girl disappeared into. A moment later I hear footsteps then the wood shifts and creaks as Bree joins us on the steps.

"We don't have long," Ronan says to us. "I'll just give you guys a sec…" A couple creaks and a click later, we're alone.

I look at Bree and arch one eyebrow.

"I'm sorry you misunderstood me," she says.

I exhale loudly, slapping the step with my hands, and push myself up.

"That came out wrong. I meant: I'm sorry I wasn't clear before. I am glad you are not married simply because I did not like the thought of missing my own son's wedding, not because I don't approve of you."

"But you don't approve of me, do you?" I ask, staring at the girl's door again.

Bree Flit is silent for a moment and I close my eyes, exhaling through my nose.

"Can you really blame me? I don't know you very well and from I have seen you are mean, cruelly shrewd, and tenacious. And that is not including observations I have based on your Hunger Games. I don't have them memorized, but I do remember what you did to the child from 10."

"I do, too. Vividly."

"Only a monster could do something that horrific to anyone, especially a child. I don't care what anyone says: you shamed yourself and the entire district when you did that." She says harshly. "It wasn't surprising to me when you won the Games since no decent person ever does."

I kinda want to hit her, but it's the absolute truth and I've told myself the exact words coming out of her mouth a thousand times.

"But then," she says softly, "I also remember your friendliness towards that other boy."

"Garret," I say, clenching my fists.

"Yes, I think of that, and I can remember you have some decency in you. But there's also the issue of your money. I'm from a rich family myself so I have no right to judge you for having money, but you have more to your name than my family ever did. You just sit on it, spending it here and there frivolously. The amount you paid today for the ice cream would take two weeks to save up for, and that's if we didn't buy anything but food. Except for when you saved my son, can you tell me one time you ever used your money for anything that wasn't selfish and without being prompted, because the ice cream for the children doesn't count."

"I paid for everything when they tried to save my little brother. I paid for his funeral and my sister's. I've gotten things here and there for my parents and Ronan."

"For anything not related to your family?"

"No, of course not."

"What do you mean 'of course not?'"

"Anyone who I offered to spend money on didn't want me to."

"And what about those who didn't ask?"

I turn and glower at her. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, or why it's so important to you that I be a selfless good doer, but it's not my job to walk down the street and toss money into the air for people just because I'm a victor. I'm a survivor, not a savior. Unless you don't like the thought of anyone less than that with your son, in which case, I'd like to remind you that he was to be a tribute. If this hadn't happened and Ronan had survived the Hunger Games, then he would've been just like me."

I turn away from her again and stare upwards. Bree is quiet. I watch the sky get darker and stars finally begin to appear. A few minutes later Ronan opens the door.

"We have to go." He says the words almost apologetically.

"That's fine," I say. Bree obviously has nothing more to say to me. I turn and smile at him. "We're done, anyway."

Sera pokes her head out from under Ronan's arm. "Bye Dylan," she chirps. "See you in a few weeks!"

I smile. Ronan pats her on the head then gives her a quick hug. He kneels down to hug Bree and she gives him a kiss on the cheek, squeezing him back. Then he straightens up and offers his hand to me. I take it and we descend the stairs.

"By, Mom!" he says. I don't look to see if she waved.

We head around to the front of the house and then I let Ronan lead me. It's getting dark and already I can tell the more dodgy denizens have emerged. He keeps a firm grip on my hand, leading me down the more populated streets and the ones most brightly lit by lampposts. Something about this place makes my heart beat just a little bit faster and my skin to prickle. I don't like the way some of the people look at us now. A rich girl and an injured boy: easy pickings to anyone judging on appearance.

Ronan's tense beside me. "So you've noticed," he mutters.

"That this place isn't pleasant at night? Yeah, I noticed," I reply quietly.

"I didn't expect it to get this dark so early or I would've suggested we leave an hour ago. Keep facing forward. Don't let anyone see you're feeling nervous."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, well it appears that way. You're looking around too much," he says.

"I'm trying to keep an eye on everyone."

As we're passing an alleyway between two shops, a man leans against the wall, watching us. I glare at him dangerously. He averts his gaze and, thankfully, makes no move to follow us.

"Nicely done," Ronan murmurs, the brief warning not having gone unnoticed. "Just be careful. Some people might take it as a personal challenge, even if they originally intended to leave us alone."

"Hmph, bring it on."

"That's what you'd think if someone gave you that look."

"No it—ah, er…I hate it when you're right."

He laughs once, quietly.

We're nearing the edge of town, thankfully. This place wasn't nice to begin with, but at night, it's like the arena, full to the brim with traps, obstacles, and enemies. I cannot imagine living here.

Two children on the opposite side of the road catch my eye. I've not seen any children out as we've walked. Even the dirtiest children who probably didn't have a real home are nowhere to be seen. But there are two children there now, and they're carrying a bag each that, based on the protruding shapes, carry food. If I wanted to target someone, I'd pick them. Their parents must be insane to let them out after dark. And it seems I am not alone in that thinking.

The moment they enter an area unlit by lamps, a figure detaches itself from the shadow of a shop doorway and blocks off their path. The kids notice and immediately start to back away, only to have their escape route cut off by another figure that materializes from the mouth of an alley.

Oh no. Uh uh. Not happening.

I turn midstride and try to step into the street, but Ronan's grip tightens firmly on me. "Don't."

"Ronan, they're kids. And there's only two."

"There may be more of them somewhere or people nearby who'd jump in on their side just because of what we look like," he says. "Just keep going. They probably won't hurt them. All they want is the food. They won't take the kids, a kid is nothing more than another mouth to feed."

"You don't know that!"

"Dylan, please, don't—"

I jerk my hand free. "You can help me or you can sit over here. Your choice."

He sighs, gritting his teeth. "I don't have a weapon."

"Then it's time to use those hand-to-hand skills we taught you."

"I can't fight anymore," he protests, waving his stump.

One of the children squeaks in alarm and I grit my teeth, the instinct to protect rising up within me. "Ursa already showed you that you could if you had to. Now come on."

I dart across the street, pulling the knife from my belt. It seems that the two men are trying to convince the children to hand over their bags, but the younglings are holding tightly to them, shaking their heads, trying to seem brave. I don't see any weapons, but that doesn't mean anything. Too intent on their victims, the would-be thieves don't realize I'm coming until I'm right there. The one facing my way must see me move in his peripheral vision because he looks up.

"Watch out—!" he warns his friend who spins around at the same time I lash out. The blade slashes across his face. The force and shock causes him to stumble back, nearly crashing into the children. The taller one—I can see she is a girl now—grabs the smaller child by the hand and hauls him out of the way just as the man steps into the space they just occupied.

The man screams wordlessly.

"Get out of here!" I warn. "And don't you come near them again!"

"You wench!" the other man charges towards me. I drop to the ground, sweeping my leg and kick his legs out from underneath him. Unprepared, he goes down but the moment he hits, he pushes himself up into a fighting stance. I freeze for half a second and my eyes widen. He must be one of our rejects. In the dim light, he doesn't look that much older than me so we probably trained near each other at one point.

He lunges. I duck under his arm and slash the knife at his side, spinning out of the way. He swears, but that little scratch wasn't enough to deter him. He lunges, missing the knife when I try to slash him again, and punches me in the stomach. I cough, winded, and flip the knife into a throwing position and let it fly. With the reflexes only someone trained to fight can have, he brings his arms up to protect his head, and the blade sinks into his arm.

Good news, I'd got him good, probably pierced the bone. Bad news, I'd just lost my weapon. He recovers some of his wits and, knowing I had nothing to keep him at bay, lunges at me again and a kick to stomach and sends me into the wall. I catch myself on the wall with my hands before my face can smash into shoots up my arms, but I don't think anything is broken. Pushing off the wall, I spin around, but the man already has the knife out of his arm and in his hand. I swallow and back away from him, hitting the wall almost immediately. But now I can feel it there against my chest, the other holster I'd strapped on this morning.

A quick glance shows that the two kids have ducked behind a crate and Ronan's almost finished with the other guy, his fist making a mess of the guy's face, but he's in no position to help me. I roll my shoulders, feeling the holster's strap. Now I just have to get my hand under my shirt to get it before he can stab me.

"Not so tough now, are ya?" The man asks in a gruff voice.

"I like how you think you've got a chance, even with that knife." I say, trying to sound brave, while lifting my left hand to the collar of my shirt. "You have no idea who you're up against."

"Ooh, feisty," he laughs, "and skilled. Let me guess, you spent some time in the Trials, too? Well, let me give you a lesson then. Just because you know how to use a knife doesn't make you a hero."

"No, but it made me a victor."

The man pauses. "Say what now?" he asks, his voice free of the gruffness he probably was using to try and intimidate me.

Ronan appears out of nowhere and punches him in the jaw, successfully taking his attention off me. He rounds on my boyfriend and I lunge at him. He goes down but he's still got the knife in his hand. I pounce, pinning his other arm beneath my legs, and pull the knife from beneath my shirt. At the same time, Ronan brings his foot down on the man's wrist and his hand releases the knife. Ronan retrieves it and leaves his foot in place. I yank his head up by his greasy hair, pressing the blade against his throat.

I lean down so my face is near his ear and whisper, "Here's what's going to happen: I'm going to let you go, and then you and your buddy are going to leave us and these kids alone, or I will fill the holes in the street with your blood."

"Screw ya, wench," he spits.

I slowly drag the blade across his throat, not hard to break the skin, but enough that he can feel it.

"Is that clear?"

He says nothing.

I apply a bit more pressure to the knife and now a small line of red trails after it. "Is that clear?"

His Adam's apple bobs and he nods once.

Ronan whistles and I throw him an annoyed look. "Really?"

He grins at me.

I pull the knife away then smash the man's face into the ground and I hear a satisfying crunch. "Glad to see you're reasonable." Then I release him and spring up quickly

The slowly gets to his feet and gives me an ugly look. Or, maybe it's just his face that's ugly with his nose bent to the side like that. He looks like he's ready to attack me again so I flip the knife into a throwing position. He recognizes the stance and he takes off after his accomplice. We watch him go then Ronan hands me the knife back.

"Alright, that was fun, I'll admit." Ronan says, rubbing his knuckles against his arm. "Are you alright?"

"Probably going to have a bruise on my stomach, but I've had worse," I say, then turn to the children.

"Are you—"I start to ask but they flinch away from me, whimpering. I glance at the knives in my hands and tuck them away in their respective holsters quickly, then kneel down. "Hey, it's okay now. They're not going to hurt you and neither am I."

The girl and boy glance at each other. Pressing her lips together, the girl quietly says, "Thank you."

I smile. "Do you live very far from here?"

They shake their heads.

"Why are you out on your own so late?" I ask.

They glance at each other again, then the girl says, "We had to get food. Mommy's sick."

"And your father?" They say nothing so I don't press it. "Come on, we'll walk you home so they don't come back. No one will hurt you as long as I'm here, I promise."

The girl nods. "Okay."

I straighten up and I feel Ronan's hand on my shoulder. I smile at him. When I look at the kids again they've got their bags picked back up. We walk beside them towards their home. I can see them stealing glances at us out of the corners of their eyes. I know when Ronan's arm is noticed because the little boy's eyes widen and I hear a quiet gasp. He tugs on his sister's sleeve and points at it and then she gasps as well.

"Yeah, I know." Ronan says. "Freaky, right?"

They really didn't live far, just two blocks from where we'd saved them. The girl points to a small house with a light on in a window.

"Your home?"

She nods. "Thank you."

"Here," I say, digging into my bag. I pull out the remaining money—it's not much to me, but it's probably ten times the amount they spent on food tonight—and, grabbing the girl's hand, I press it into her palm. "Get care for your mother."

The girl's eyes bug out of her head when she sees the gift I've given her. "Th-thank you…I…"

"Who are you?" The boy blurts, speaking for the first time.

I smile. "Don't worry about that. Now go on, get inside."

The girl clenches her fist tightly around the money then places it over her heart. She gives me another smile and then runs towards her house with her brother right behind her. I wait until they're both in the door before I tug on Ronan's hand.

Walking the rest of the way isn't as nerve-wracking as it had been before. It feels like winning that fight has given us a new type of power, though in the back of my mind I am well aware nothing has changed except that we may have made a few enemies. Whatever, I don't care. I have no plans of ever being here after dark again. We don't speak again until we're out of the town.

"Okay, I can see why you don't like it there." I say.

"It's not that I don't like it, it's just…" he trails off. "It's not that bad during the day and when you've grown up around that it's not as horrifying. Though, for someone who grew up in Crest and lives in the Village it must have been truly traumatizing."

I shoot him a look. "Just like you were in awe of Victor's Village the first time you saw it."

"Touché."

On the way back to the stable road where the fare car will pick us up I observe the land around the district's slum. District 4 is very large, stretching for miles along the coastlines, and has a very diverse terrain. We never get snow and it never really gets cold here, except for the rare occurrence in the northernmost areas of the district, near the fence. That's why we have types of vegetation you don't see anywhere else, specifically in the southwestern half and along most of the costal regions. Palm trees and mangrove trees are quite common there, along with many other trees and plants with large leaves. Further inland there were different kinds of trees in some places, and in others there were fields and grass. Scattered all across the district are wetlands, just like in my arena, but there are plenty of dry areas too. In the north, there are trees. In the south, there are the beginnings of deserts, like in the Landscape.

Gull Cove is a costal town and they probably did have a lot of trees a long time ago, but now they're all gone—probably cut down for their wood—save for a few mangrove trees here and there. The rest of the land is open, grassy, with trees in the distance.

I wonder how it must have been like for Ronan when he moved from this open place to the training center. The building itself is surrounded by a wall and the Village and the Center are in two separate clearings in an even larger forest. We're almost hidden away in there.

The fare car waits for us at the edge of the good road, about half way to the trees, four miles from the Cove.

The driver smiles, waving his hand out the window in greeting. We wave back, walking faster. Sliding in the car, we put on the worn out belts and he starts the car, making a sharp turn.

When we're about halfway home, I realize my tiny error. "Oh, sir. Um. I don't have any more money left. But if you'll wait outside the training center, I'll go in and get what I owe you."

He nods. "Don't leave me hanging."

"I wont," I say.

"What did you spend it all on, anyway?"

"I gave most of it to this little girl we helped on the way out," I say. "She needed it more than I do."

The man looks at me out of the mirror over his head. "We need more victors like you, then."

Try telling that to Bree Flit. I think bitterly.

I'm putting together a playlist for The Color of Blood :) Well, me and Kazz are. Don't think it's done yet. If anyone's interested in hearing what we've got so far, let me know.

Next chapter is a series of tiny one-shotty...snips...gonna be called Moments. It involves post-trauma, Dylan's parents, babies, acceptance, plus more...and a hinting of what's to come...

Review.