A/N: This chapter is early because I'm going away for a while. Next chapter will be on January 4th.

When the warden demanded volunteers for shoveling the path, Donna cursed mentally but still raised her hand, along with four of the former Peacekeepers, who rotated regularly. Shoveling was exhausting work, but at least it meant fresh air and being able to talk to Theodosius without half the prison population hearing every word.

She was led outside, together with Song, Strata, Jade, and Weiss, as the other women were led to their crocheting. Lifting her feet high to be able to get through the thick blanket of snow, Donna walked up to the ten shovels that waited for them.

"Lovely morning, isn't it?" Theodosius asked, approaching her.

It was in fact a nice morning, not windy at all and slightly overcast. It barely even felt cold, but since the snow was showing no signs of melting, it must have been a few degrees below zero. "I suppose," she said, taking a shovel. "At least we'll get to stay out here for a while." The shovelers would be allowed to stay outside until the path was fully cleared. If they weren't done by early afternoon, then the rest wouldn't be allowed outside at all, and they would spend the next few weeks being annoyed at her.

Since they had reached the shovels first, they began working from there. Strata and Jade started in the same place, but going in the opposite direction. Donna took a bit of snow from the top, and tossed it aside. No need to overexert herself. The next shovelful took the rest of the snow from that little area. A little bit still remained, but it wouldn't pose a problem. Theodosius picked up too much and strained to move it aside. He paused, rubbing at his lower back.

"Are you alright?" Donna asked anxiously. If he threw out his back, that would be the end of shoveling, possibly forever.

Theodosius braced his shovel against the ground and stretched his back. "I'm fine, don't worry." He picked up a smaller shovelful and tossed it to the side.

Reassured, Donna also resumed shoveling. "Please be careful. You don't want to end up like Best," she said, pointing at the older man who was arguing with a guard. While he was in good health, he just wasn't quite capable of shoveling snow for hours on end with a shovel that couldn't be called ergonomical by any definition of the word. The former Peacekeeper was upbraiding the guard as if he still had his high rank, and the guard was a subordinate.

"I don't understand," Best said coldly, "do you want me to shovel or not? Make up your mind already!"

Donna and Theodosius stopped shoveling as the guard, a young man from Two, snapped to attention and did not move for a second. "You think too highly of yourself, Male Sixteen!" he suddenly shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Best and leaning forward slightly. "You forget that you are nothing but an inmate and a convicted murderer, and you do not command me anymore!" Best froze, as did Donna and Theodosius and everyone else in the yard. "Now, are you capable of shoveling the path or not?"

Best must have answered in the affirmative, as he walked off to join Verdant, who was refusing to admit that his leg could stop him from doing anything. He looked downtrodden, very much not the person who could command anyone. It was painful to see for Donna, even though she didn't particularly like Best. Watching a young man upbraid someone old enough to be their grandfather like that was very unpleasant.

Theodosius' thoughts must have been somewhere else, though, as he commented, "Like two peas in a pod, those two. You think they're discussing corruption in the Coast Guard again?" They could never let go of the topic, constantly blaming each other for defections Donna had never even heard of.

"What else?" she tried to say lightly, but her heart wasn't really in it. "You know, maybe they're planning on writing a book about it. 'Corruption in the Coast Guard: From the Early Days to the Second Rebellion'. It would be a bestseller, I bet."

Theodosius laughed out loud as he dug his shovel into the snow. "I'd read it. Still, how would that work? Would they smuggle it out page by page?"

"I think the administration would have something to say about that," she conceded. Sneaking out letters were one thing, an entire book - quite another. Donna looked up and realized that Best and Verdant had already cleared more than the two of them. "Wait, how have they already overtaken us?"

"Wait, already?" Theodosius asked incredulously. The two of them were consistently much slower than the former Peacekeepers, but this was a new record. "We should pick up the pace, then, or they'll blame it on us when it's not cleared in time." He began to move slightly faster.

Donna's mind was still on the guard from Two. "Sounds like the guard was a Peacekeeper once," she said. "He must have switched sides early." Early enough to have participated in the fighting for Two, at least. Any later, and he wouldn't have been trusted for this job.

"That's true," said Theodosius as he paused to pull down his cap lower. It still didn't come close to covering his ears, which were already bright-red. "Can't believe he'd even want to be here."

"I wonder if he's even allowed to shout like that," Donna wondered. "Technically speaking, he wasn't wrong, but that's just-" she cut off, unable to find the words to describe it. Maybe it was just the age difference that was so disconcerting. She gestured weakly, trying to express herself.

"No, no, I get it," Theodosius said. "I don't like to be reminded of it, either. But that's what we are, aren't we?" He grinned weakly, stabbing his shovel into the snow. "Just a bunch of inmates. Murderers strolling in a prison yard." He gestured at the two of them, then shrugged. "Most prisons don't let men and women work literally twenty centimetres from each other, but that's just a minor detail, I suppose."

Donna chuckled at the last part, even though there really wasn't anything to laugh at. She had also had similar thoughts in the past. "That we are," she said. "That we are." Throwing another shovelful of snow to the side, she added, "And in this, as in all, a thank-you to our dear President Snow."

Theodosius nearly dropped his shovel. "I don't think this is what our teachers meant when they taught us to recite that. Although," he said thoughtfully, "it is still more correct than ninety percent of what they taught us."

"Ninety?" Donna said bitterly. "Try ninety-five. We're only here because they taught us that up is down." What she actually meant to say was 'wrong is right', but the words stuck in her mouth. Instead, she dug her shovel into the snow. Her toes felt numb. "And what was taught to the Districts- you remember that textbook from Twelve, right?"

Each District had had different textbooks, tailored to fit the ideology imposed on the specific District. Where the people of the upper and lower classes looked different, illustrations would reflect that societal hierarchy, as if it was the natural order of things. Where they didn't, all of the people pictured would look the same, as if that was the norm across Panem. At their trial, a textbook from Twelve had been shown. No photos or illustrations of people from other Districts were in it, but people with light hair and skin and blue eyes were shown to have better jobs than people with dark hair, olive skin, and grey eyes.

Children would only ever see pictures of people who looked like themselves or their classmates, except during the Games. This meant that people who looked different were considered to be some sort of "other". Even now, after years of working together, there were still issues, because people associated certain appearances only with those of the children who had to die if their own were to come home.

"How could I forget?" Theodosius said bitterly. "Remember how our end of the dock reacted? We were all so confused, until the prosecutor explained it. Then it was suddenly the most sinister thing we'd seen that day." That was how it had gone. The more seemingly innocuous something was, the more unpleasant for one or several of the defendants it was when its deeper meaning was explained. "Snow really had a lot to answer for, doesn't he?" Theodosius asked his shovel. "No screw was too tight for him to be unable to tighten it further."

"That's a good way to phrase it." Donna would need to remember that for her diary entry, as well as her thoughts about the old educational system. At least that way, her odd reminisces would serve some use.

Theodosius chuckled. "I spent days coming up with the phrase," he admitted.

On the way back, the guard from Thirteen intercepted Holder. The others all slowed down to listen to the middle-aged woman. "You didn't eat this morning, did you?" she asked without a shred of concern. Holder nodded, staring at the ground. "And you didn't eat yesterday, either?" Holder nodded again, clutching at his shovel with an iron grip. Donna was shocked. He hadn't shown any signs of hunger. Unlike her during the first while in the Supermax, the former Peacekeeper hadn't appeared tired or weak at all. Holder looked ready to crumple now that he was under the guard's gaze, though. "So," the guard said, "please give me the reason for this hunger strike!"

"I ate some of the food," he whined quietly.

The guard looked ready to explode. "What?" she asked. "So some food you eat, and the rest you don't? And to think that the administration has been wasting food on you for months, thinking you just have a high metabolism!"

"Yes," Holder said. "I can't eat the vegetable stew. It tastes terrible, at least to me. The bread and the fruits are alright."

"You will eat it," the guard said calmly. "One way or another. How did you even survive off Peacekeeper rations?" she asked rhetorically, which was not something Holder understood.

"I got food from locals," he explained, not noticing that the guard did not want to hear it. Donna wasn't sure she wanted to know just how he got it from them, either. "And I won't eat that stew! If you try to force me, I'll just throw up. Believe me, I've tried many times."

The other nine inmates weren't even pretending to be walking back now. They all stood around, listening to the conversation. "Don't worry," the guard said. "The administration won't waste good food on you anymore. Either you gain weight, or you eat nutrient powder."

Holder's eyes lit up. "Nutrient powder?" he asked. "What does that taste like?"

"Like crunchy cotton balls made from paper."

"I'll eat that!" Holder said enthusiastically. Wordlessly, the guard took out a packet from her pocket and unwrapped it to reveal a small bar. Holder whipped off his glove to take it, and bit off a piece. He grinned, and shoved the rest into his mouth.

"Thank you so much, guard!" he said. "Can I have more later?"

Behind Donna, Best whispered to Verdant. "Proof he's not sane enough to be in here - he actually thinks nutrient powder tastes good!" If the bar was the solid form of the unpleasant drinks she had occasionally been given instead of a meal while in prison, Donna saw truth in that statement. The thick fluid had no taste whatsoever, and no texture other than a vague feeling of sludginess, like tea with too much sugar but with no sweetness.

"Move along then, Male Seven!" snapped the guard. "And the rest of you! You're barely done in time for lunch as is!" Typical Thirteen ill humour. They snapped and snapped, but they didn't really mean it. Donna put back her shovel without feeling particularly hurried.

"See you in a bit," she told Theodosius as they entered their respective cell blocks. He told her the same, and they stepped inside. The cell block was deserted, but from the presence of the meal cart, everyone must have been eating lunch. The warmth hit Donna like a blanket, making her face and fingers tingle. She took off her gloves, trying to flex them quickly. Her fingers refused to obey, only clenching and unclenching slowly. Donna rubbed her palms together and breathed on them, trying to get the circulation going.

"Cold?" Weiss asked.

"It didn't stop me from shoveling," Donna replied.

Weiss shot her an irritated look and rubbed her own palms together. "I'm also cold," she said. "You need to stop looking for accusations everywhere."

Donna shoved her hands in her pockets, feeling abashed. "I just didn't want to complain in front of you," she tried to explain. "You lived for so long up north, after all."

Song cut in. "Well, as you said, it didn't stop you from shoveling, so that's all that matters. In fact, I think you even went faster than ever before!"

"Really?" Donna asked. "But the guard said we were slow today!"

"A few of us figured out the best pace," Song explained. "No need to rush, but we can't go too slow either. We didn't get around to explaining it to you, but we didn't think you two would volunteer. Again. You know, in the Academy, volunteering so often would get you stuck with the worst tasks. Permanently." The four former Peacekeepers shared a chuckle. "In any case, you kept up without even knowing."

Kept up? With the former Peacekeepers? Donna suddenly felt very proud of herself. "Uh, thank you," she said self-consciously. "We just looked at how you were doing and tried to match your pace."

"And now, we even numbers won't have anything to complain about," Jade said with a theatrical sigh. Given that the last time, Donna had been forced to listen to everyone complain about her as she sat right there, she didn't want to imagine what it had been like when she hadn't been there.

"What about the way the guard from Two insulted Best?" Donna suggested. "I can't believe it."

"Very true," Song said angrily. "Did you hear what the guard said? How dare he upbraid his former commanding officer in that manner! There must be something very wrong in society if people act like that."

Donna stayed silent. Being raised on a steady diet of threats that a certain element is trying to unravel the fabric of society and then being smacked over the head with the fact that the society deserved to be unraveled had messed up her ability to tell if things like that were acceptable or not. She was fairly sure that Best didn't deserve to be treated like that, but then again, what did she know? The more of a fuss the four former Peacekeepers kicked up, the more unsure in her position Donna became.

"They don't have a proper understanding of hierarchy," Jade was saying. She didn't even lower her voice as they approached a warden. "No wonder we're here, if this is how they think things should be done." Song agreed. Donna was less sure. Hadn't it been proven, over and over, that the Peacekeepers had been complicit in terrible crimes all over Panem? Not all of them, of course, but enough to make the Peacekeepers a criminal organization.

That was one of those questions she had done reading on. The most commonly used excuse of the Peacekeepers, besides the stubborn refusal to admit having done nothing wrong, was the superior orders defense, which turned out to be quite common the world over. How valid was it? The more she talked with former Peacekeepers, the better she understood why they had or had not done certain things, but there was a reason why that defense hadn't gotten any of them acquitted.

The greatest argument against Song and the rest of them was that there had been Peacekeepers who had disobeyed. Not necessarily defected, but still willing to not follow criminal orders or carry them out in the intended way. And after all, the manual every Peacekeeper had carried said clearly that criminal orders should not be obeyed, even if nobody had read it. The one time that Donna had brought it up, though, Li had stared at her like the year was 74 and she had just announced her opposition to Snow. She only figured out why later.

Every child had grown up being told that hurting others was bad, and yet they had also been taught that the Games were good. Few had been able to understand the contradiction, and even fewer had done more than that. Likewise, trainee Peacekeepers had been told over and over to obey, and several words on a piece of paper were nothing compared to the words of an authority figure. The more Donna read about it, the more she was shocked that any of the Peacekeepers at all had been willing to think and act independently, but then again, the sheer poverty and need in some parts of Panem was enough to shock anyone out of their preconceptions. So, what would have been the "normal" response? To realize that circumstances were different than anything they had ever been told, or to go on believing?

The response of the four women walking with Donna had been the latter. They fell silent as they approached the food cart and picked up their trays. Vegetable stew, for the fifth time in a row. Good thing Holder had his nutrient bars. "You have ten minutes to eat," the guard said. The five women scurried to their cells. Donna ate her lunch quickly, cringing at the feel of soaked trouser hems against bare skin. She'd need to change after the walk, or sitting down for several hours would be unbearable. Her socks felt damp as well, but that would also have to wait. Donna rinsed off the tray and cup in the sink, and leaned against the radiator, trying to warm up, if only slightly.

All too soon, they were called to hand back the trays and go outside. While everyone else was cheered by the prospect of an hour outside, Donna felt reluctant to go back out in the cold. She had warmed up by working during the morning, but just walking around didn't sound too pleasant. She was thanked several times for getting the shoveling done on time, which felt very nice.

"How was lunch?" Theodosius asked her as they set off down the path. There was a thin layer of compacted snow under her feet. It felt good to walk at a normal speed. "I hope there's something else for dinner, I don't want to eat the same thing six times in a row."

"At least you're not Holder," Donna pointed out.

"Very true. A few of us asked him just how he hasn't starved to death yet." He glanced at Holder, who was doing stretches by himself. "In the early stages of the training, they were apparently willing to accommodate him, let him eat energy bars instead of actual meals. He was actually being considered for desk work until they figured out that he was incapable of showing initiative, but very good at obeying. During the last phase of training, he managed to make do, but ended up extremely underweight. When he was deployed, he was stationed in a large village that had recently failed to meet its quota." Holder had started out in Ten and got reassigned to Eleven shortly afterwards, but not before doing enough things to make Ten unwilling to leave the prosecution of him up to solely Eleven.

"He terrorized them, didn't he?" Donna asked quietly. The worst thing was that he had been completely unaware of what he was doing.

Theodosius nodded. "His commanding officer said that any of the inhabitants would be glad to help out the Peacekeepers in any way, shape, or form. Holder was the only one who didn't understand the reality of the situation; he would go to the soup shop every day and ask for food. They were too scared to say no, especially after the same commanding officer asked Holder sarcastically if Holder would shoot a child, and Holder thought it was an order, and actually shot the child."

"Sounds like Holder," Donna said sadly. "The more I learn about him, the more it seems he belongs in a secure hospital. Not in here."

"It gets worse," Theodosius said. "I talked for a bit with Longview, they served on the same farm complex in Eleven for a few years. He never hurt anyone of his own volition, always thanked the people who gave him food. But no order was too cruel for him to carry out. He shot a mentally handicapped child for allegedly stealing a pair of night-vision goggles." Donna had known the gist of that before as that story had been told during their trial, but not in so much detail. What she hadn't known was that Longview had served with him. "Wait, that was Holder?" she asked, surprised. "I never knew that."

"Neither did I. I thought my eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. Remember how a bunch of the others whispered about isolated acts of cruelty?"

Donna would rather have not remembered. "I'm just amazed that Holder and Longview had served together. I didn't know any of them had known each other before." A huge chunk of the former Peacekeepers had served in Eleven, but since it had a population of many millions, the likelihood of any of them having ever interacted before was small.

"Me neither," Theodosius said curtly, as they walked past a small cluster of former Gamemaker assistants. They waved slightly in greeting. Once they were more or less out of earshot, he continued. "I could live with these people for another twenty years, and I still wouldn't know anything about them."

Unsure of how to reply, Donna changed the topic. "Walking around the path is so much faster when you don't have to shovel as you go," she said. They had already covered a distance that had taken them a very long time to clean of snow.

Theodosius kicked lightly at the ground. "That it is. My toes are still numb," he complained. "I should have put on dry socks."

"But then you'd have ended up with two pairs of wet socks," Donna argued. "And it's only an hour. You're not going to get actual frostbite in this temperature, not if you keep on walking."

"I actually read a book about this," Theodosius said. "Well, not really this, but about homeless people. There was a story about a person who slept in their car overnight during winter in wet shoes, with no heating. They ended up with amputated feet." He shrugged slightly. "Doesn't really apply to us, but I thought it was an interesting story."

That was, indeed, very interesting. "Where was the book written?" she asked.

"Uh, China, I think. A city called Harbin. It gets very cold there. A team of researchers did a study on how the homeless survive there during winter, and it became one of the most influential books on the topic. I don't know the exact title, but it's self-explanatory."

"That sounds fascinating," Donna said sincerely. It was bad enough for her, shivering in the mornings under a pile of low-quality blankets, what was it like for people who were even worse off? "When I'm done my current geography book, I'll get that."

Theodosius took his hand out of his pocket to adjust his cap, and Donna noticed he wasn't wearing his gloves. "What?" he asked, noticing her staring. "They were soaked, I'd just be even colder if I put them on." Donna took out her old pair from her pockets and gave them to him. "Oh, thanks!" They fit him just right.

"Maybe you should keep them," she joked, "since they fit you so well."

Looking at his hands, Theodosius had to agree. "How did you even wear them?" he asked. "My hands are much bigger than yours."

"They were just a bit big," Donna said with a shrug. "I like my current pair better, though." She held up her hands, encased with the gloves her family had sent her the previous year. This year, they had tried to send in a scarf, but the administration was still unsure of whether it should be allowed.

Wearing dry clothes, Donna made her way to the gym. Smith was quietly singing an upbeat love song. The other Smith told her to quiet down, which was met with an increase in volume.

"No, really, could you please stop?" the other Smith said, sounding very upset. Reluctantly, Smith acquiesced. The two Smiths headed for the other gym, and Donna didn't hear if the argument continued, but in all likelihood, it did.

In the gym, it was cold. Donna debated putting on her gloves. Would her fingers be kept warm by the crocheting, or would the cold numb them and make crocheting difficult? She decided to wait and see. Theodosius, however, was already still wearing his gloves. "My hands are freezing," he complained, noticing her glance at them. He sat down, picking up his project in his hands and placing the entire thing on his lap. The two of them had recently switched to making sweaters. Donna was still working on the second panel, while Theodosius was already sewing the chest and back together. Holes would be left from which the sleeves and collar would be made. Theodosius laid out the two panels flat and froze, hand holding needle above them. "Wait, did I go too far?" he asked Li.

Li leaned over. "No," he said, gesturing at the future sweater. "See? There's a few more rows until the sleeve." He somehow had memorized the exact patterns for every sweater size he had made, and there were many.

"Thank you," Theodosius said, and continued sewing. Donna tried to go faster. She was almost done with the back panel. Li was working on a completely different type of sweater. He had made two long panels, covered with intricate cabling because Li couldn't make anything that didn't feature them, which were sewed together until the halfway point to make the back. Then, he sewed together the outer edges, to make the sides. The result was a sleeveless cardigan. Now, he was working on the hood, which would even have a lanyard made from a crochet strand. Whether the administration would acquire for him buttons or a zipper was still up in the air.

By now, a tenth of the inmates was working on sweaters. The administration wanted everyone to make the switch eventually, as handmade sweaters were apparently more desired than their handmade blankets, which were too thin to serve as truly functional blankets in large parts of the country. Sweaters were much, much more complicated, though. Counting the rows was an ordeal. Every so often when working on the first panel, Donna was forced to stop and count. Now that she was working on the second one, though, all she had to do was lay it against the first and see how much was left. Only five and a half rows.

Donna shot a jealous look at Li and his intricate cables. She was having enough difficulties with half double crochet all the way, and so was Theodosius. "Hey, look!" he told her, proffering the sewn-together panels at her.

"Looks good to me," she said. It was a very basic vest, with no mistakes Donna could see. "You could probably wear it right now!"

"That's forbidden," he deadpanned. "No giant number fifteen on the back, no wearing." Theodosius placed his project back on his lap, perusing the pattern he and Donna shared. "Mr. Li, how do I start these sleeves?" he asked, leaning over her.

Li was too busy discussing Paylor with Strata and could not answer. "She should just pick a side and stick to it," he said. "This wobbling back and forth is creating uncertainty." He turned back to face Theodosius. "Sleeves can be tricky. Let me show you." Taking the project from Theodosius, he made a few stitches. "Like this. Do you get it now?"

"Yes, thank you." Theodosius continued the sleeve as Li turned back around and continued his conversation.

"If she had just stuck to the original Depuration plan, at least that would have been consistent," he said.

Strata was unconvinced. "But you said yourself that it was impractical!"

"Impractical or not, it's too late to change her mind now. Now that she's stopped chasing after minor offenders, people will try to push her further. If you give the people a centimetre, they'll take a kilometre, and that's if you're lucky," Li insisted.

"I agree," said Katz. "While I agree in principle with the changes, softness doesn't lead anywhere good."

Now that Katz had also agreed, Strata was nodding her head. "I see what you mean," she said.

"I'm not so sure about that," Donna spoke up. "Would you rather have them keep on going with an obviously bad idea? I think it's a good thing they're willing to admit they made a mistake." She finished a row and made the turning stitches. Just a few more rows left!

"But what sort of precedent will that establish?" Katz asked. "If the people know that they can make the government do whatever they want-"

"That is literally the point!" Theodosius exclaimed quietly. "The government does what the people want it to do. That's what it's for."

Katz looked confused.

"When you put it that way, you make it sound like a good thing," Li said.

"I wish we had access to the news," sighed Katz. "This is all so strange."

To that, all of them could agree.