Recommended Listening: Ask the Lonely by Journey

Igris Kirkland, District 5

Our alliance has a good supper. We still have our donations from earlier, coupled with a basket of five apples Amer brought along with him. Fronce even had the great idea—which I assure you are few and far between with him—to roast an apple, so that ended up being quite a treat.

We'll have stricter rationing tomorrow and so on, especially since we have three to take care of, but we still have our sponsors. Sponsors for three, at this point.

Admittedly, taking on Amer as an ally is a bit of a gamble, but he's strong, he has a weapon, he doesn't complain or do idiotic things like a certain other member of the alliance, and more people as allies is more people to counter the Careers. It's also more mouths to feed, and I really don't know Amer yet, but, you know, win some, lose some.

The sun—we apparently have a sun now—is setting, and none of us is particularly cold, so we put out our little fire to avoid detection.

The sunset's actually quite nice, and I suspect it's supposed to mimic a real sunset. Odd to think they'd up and put a sunset here, though. The Gamemakers tend to avoid putting anything remotely lovely in the Games. After all, they don't want us to be happy. Right now, they're probably just trying to lure us into false comfort or something. Call me a pessimist, but that's how things work around here.

Soon enough, the sunset has disappeared, and the seal of Panem appears in the sky. The second this happens, I catch Amer snapping his gaze back down to his feet.

"Do you not want to see who we have left to deal with?" I ask him. He mumbles something I can't quite pick out, and then looks up at me for a second.

"I just really don't want to look, okay?"

"Ah. Should I just tell you, then?"

"No," he answers immediately before looking back down.

Well, as far as I know, there's only one reason a tribute wouldn't want to see who died that day. And that's because someone they didn't want to die is up there.

He said he's killed people. Is it just regret that drives him to this? Or was there someone he was close to?

Ah. That must be it. If my memory holds, I recall him being quite the energetic one back in training and interviews. He asked practically everyone to be allies. So there's only one thing that could keep him so averse to allying with us.

His ally died.

I look up at the sky. Many faces are there tonight. A lot I don't recognise. One boy I know is from 7, but I can't recall his name. Vahn from 9 is there. The girl from 11 who was always being obsessed over by her district partner appears. The last is the trembling boy, apparently from 12.

Then the anthem dies.

"Amer," I finally say, "you're afraid to be friends with us, aren't you?"

He gives a start. "What you mean?"

"I mean, you don't want to let yourself get too close to us," I clarify. "That's why you've been so withdrawn."

He looks at his hands for a moment, then says very quietly, "Yeah."

"Well, I'll tell you what," I respond, crossing my legs. "Do you like being a loner?"

"No."

"Does it make you miserable?"

"Yes."

"Then don't be a loner." He opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "It's not going to help you in the end. You're already acquainted with us. We're already human beings to you, and vice versa. If we die before you, you'll be unhappy either way. So why would you make yourself so miserable now?"

The conviction on his face seems to fade with every sentence, and by the time I'm finished, he's speechless. Amer just shakes his head.

"I'll figure it out," he mutters, standing up. "In the meantime, how about I take first watch?"

Natalya Larus, District 9

The moon is suspended just about the horizon. It's all I can see from here, lying on my side, a few roots poking my shoulder. It's not comfortable.

I don't want to get up. I don't feel like it. I don't feel like doing much of anything. There's no reason to do anything. Vahn is dead. We will never be married. I will never even see him again. My reason for living is completely gone.

Yet I can't quite give up entirely. I have a knife. But something keeps me from slicing my wrists open. I don't know what.

It doesn't matter, anyway. If I just lie here, I'll end up dying. Probably for want of food.

Or perhaps the Gamemakers will get bored and send something my way. If that's the case, I hope it's Amer. It would be kind of nice to die the same way as my brother… There's something oddly romantic about it.

Yes, I would rather have Amer kill me than the other way around. What's the point of seeking vengeance? Vahn is dead. Killing his murderer isn't going to change that. His sister becoming a murderer isn't going to honour his memory. I couldn't do it, anyway. I have no drive. My only purpose has been to marry Vahn. And, no matter what happens to me or Amer, the wedding will not happen.

So I have nothing left. I'm going to die here. And I honestly don't mind at all.

I hear roots crunch.

Sliding my eyes down a bit from the moon's glow, I pick out a figure entering the crater. I don't recognise him. I wasn't paying attention to much of anyone before the Games.

But I can assume this tribute is out to kill me.

Something about this fact makes me draw my knife protectively. The newcomer halts, gripping what looks like a sword hilt and removing the weapon. Without making a move, we lock gazes.

His eyes are blue. Like my brother's. Not the same shade, though. Not nearly as beautiful.

We stay poised for a moment, neither budging, until I finally realise what I'm doing.

With a shaky hand, I toss my knife to the side, embedding it in the roots nowhere near the approacher.

"Go ahead," I say blankly, my voice dry and crackly. "Kill me. I have nothing left to live for, anyway."

The newcomer finally steps over, and I close my eyes. Looks like I won't die in the same way as Vahn. Oh, well. I don't really care.

The sound of shifting roots stops near my head, and I hold my breath. But a minute or so passes, and still no bite of steel. I unclose my eyes.

The tribute has seated himself next to me, his sword sheathed. I consider asking him why he didn't kill me, but my throat is too parched for me to get anything else out.

"Your brother," he says, meeting my gaze.

For a moment I'm not sure what he means, but the death toll left the sky long ago. He knows Vahn is dead as much as I do.

I nod in reply.

He scoots closer and lifts me a bit so I'm sitting as well. Not having the energy to sit up straight, I end up leaning against his shoulder.

He's looking back into the sky when he utters his next incomplete phrase. "Finni, too."

Finni… Sounds familiar… I suppose this tribute means she's gone, too. Was she from the same district as him? I don't remember. They probably knew each other.

…Judging from the sheen of his cheeks, he must have known her. Maybe he loved her.

If that's the case, we're in the same boat, aren't we? Left loveless and empty… Hollow… Sad…

I find myself letting my head rest on his shoulder as well. He ends up putting his arm over my own shoulder comfortingly.

But it just reminds me how Vahn can never do that. He can never touch me again.

And just when I think I've finally cried myself out, tears start flowing once more.

The stranger squeezes a little tighter, and somehow I end up turning and burying my face in his shirt.

I hate this. I shouldn't be doing this. No one should be allowed to comfort me but Vahn. No one. But he can't. He's not here. He's dead and gone.

And I—I don't know. I just need him so much, but he can't be here.

So, maybe, just for now, I'll work with this stranger. He's not Vahn, and he'll never be Vahn. But I just need somebody. And maybe he does, too.

I finally run out of tears, and, with a shuddering breath, I remove myself from the folds of his clothing and go back to leaning on his shoulder.

And it occurs to me somewhat that he must be the exact same height as my brother.