Morning 2

Doran still has groggy tears in his eyes as they trek between the trees. Sleep was almost impossible, and at this point Doran isn't completely sure whether it's day or night or even some unknown third option. The moon is unmoving in the starless sky, staring uncaringly down at him and Fitzroy as they walk. Somehow even knowing the time is a luxury that the Capitol cannot afford to give them. Doran isn't certain why he cares, but as they continue on it's the only thing he can think about.

At least it's not Emilia.

Her name pushes once again to the forefront of his mind and Doran hugs his arms around himself despite having long ago grown used to the cool winds. It's almost funny how it both feels like too much and not enough time has passed since he last saw Emilia. He can still clearly see the moment before she was killed, her hands up defensively in front of her and eyes wide, yet Doran can't remember the sound of her voice anymore. When he tries to think about her laugh, all that comes to mind is her scream.

As Fitzroy looks around the arena from behind Doran, he tells himself that he is not afraid.

His shoulders tense as they pass by another thick tree and his mind wanders to think about what might be lying behind it, but that's not fear. Fitzroy chooses to believe that he is only being cautious, the same quality that allows him to fall a couple steps behind Doran as they walk. He isn't going to let himself fall into the dumb paranoia that tributes often do, stepping around the arena like the ground were made of glass. Fitzroy is in too good of a position to do that. He has Doran, even if his ally's mind is clearly elsewhere, and he firmly believes that eventually he will also have Chiara. Fitzroy won't bring it up to Doran, but that's the real reason that they're continuing to risk all these extra footsteps.

"Look," Doran breathes, pointing to a lump of cloth ahead of them. Fitzroy's jaw clenches as he squints towards it, but it's hard to say what it is from so far away. This new part of the arena feels so open without the fog, even though the massive trees obstruct a lot of their periphery. Fitzroy hated the fog before, and felt vulnerable not knowing what could be waiting within it. Now, without the grey haze surrounding him on all sides, he can't help but miss its anonymity.

Fitzroy is unsure whether to follow Doran as he approaches the object, so he slinks along a couple steps waiting for a signal that everything is okay. Doran collects a few pieces in his hands and shows them to Fitzroy, who has to squint to see them. A first aid pouch, a pack of jerky, and a pair of muddy socks- supplies. Fitzroy quickly closes the distance between them to get a better look.

Movement from the branches above breaks the enthusiastic spell, and both boys scramble backwards when they see a figure begin to descend towards them. Fitzroy's fear only lasts a couple of seconds before he recognizes his district partner crawling down the tree trunk.

"Chiara!" Fitzroy exclaims, bringing his hand to his lips when he realizes how loud his voice has become.

As Chiara picks the bag off the ground and snatches the remaining supplies from the ground, Fitzroy can't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes. They somehow look worse than Doran's and Fitzroy didn't even think that was possible.

The second the shock of seeing her wears off, Doran lunges towards her forgetting all of the supplies that he had been holding. His fingertips barely graze her, but Chiara is on the ground just from sheer surprise. She bats him away with the back of her hand, but Doran quickly turns back to her. The only reason that Doran doesn't land on top of her is that Fitzroy catches him by the wrists and tosses him to the side.

"What the hell?" Chiara shouts, crawling back a few paces and staring between the two boys.

"You left her!" Doran snaps, fighting against Fitzroy even though he is far too exhausted to win. All of the anger of the last day courses through him, but his muscles refuse to let him come close to breaking the grasp. Last night, all Doran could think about was what he would do if he saw Chiara again. Now he knows. He wants her to suffer like Emilia did. "She's dead!"

"Hold up," Fitzroy says, turning Doran until he is forced to look at him. "You need to calm down."

"What did you want me to do?" Chiara says indignantly, still several paces away.

"I wanted you to help her," Doran snarls.

"Doran we're allies," Fitzroy reminds him. "But we can't be stupid either. She would have died either way and Chiara could have been killed for trying to help her."

"I didn't kill her," Chiara says with a straight face, but that does nothing to quell the feeling of hatred still bubbling in Doran's throat.

"Does it matter?" Doran cries, feeling Fitzroy's fingers lock tighter against his wrists.

"Stop, both of you," Fitzroy says but his eyes are locked on Doran.

"I didn't do shit," Chiara retorts.

"It's been a long night," Fitzroy reasons. "For all of us. We all wish Emilia was here but she isn't, and that's not going to change. We need to be smart about this."

"He's insane," Chiara snaps, rubbing the spot where her arm hit the had slapped against the tree trunk.

"He's hurt," Fitzroy reminds her, turning back to Chiara with a look that he hopes will convey his intentions. There's no point in them splitting up, not when three will be so much better than two. However, if Fitzroy has to make a choice it's already been made. He looks again at Doran, hoping that he will see reason. "We're allies. We'll be in better shape if we stick together."

A brief thought back to last night is all that Chiara needs to prompt a quick nod. If Doran can get a grip on himself, she would rather not be alone again. She knows, though, that it isn't her answer that Fitzroy is waiting for.

Doran pulls his wrists from Fitzroy's grasp, but no matter how much he wants to he doesn't go for Chiara again. He takes two steps back and looks at the district pair, really looks at them, and Doran can't believe what he sees. Their body language says even more than their words ever could, both of them staring back from the same side while Doran stands alone. Fitzroy lied last night. They're not all on the same side anymore. That's impossible now.

It's clear where Doran now sits within their alliance but leaving doesn't feel like an option. Why would they just let him go? Doran wants to believe that Fitzroy wouldn't hurt him, but Chiara is another story entirely. He doesn't feel safe staying with them, but what other choice does he have? Braving the arena alone isn't something that Doran wants to entertain. However, the way they look at him, almost as if they couldn't care less what he decides, makes Doran's chest feel heavy.

"Of course," Doran nods, attempting to swallow down the contempt in his voice. He's not going to kid himself into thinking everything is fine, but this at least gives him more time to decide what to do. Doran has no intention of trusting Chiara again, that bridge has already been burned to ashes. He won't repeat Emilia's mistake.

Ashara remembers the first day of training, when it still wasn't clear if she would be accepted into the volunteer alliance despite being trained. She had been a bundle of nerves, scared to finally see them and even more terrified at what they might say to her. Romello's pep talk that morning about her being a shoe in for the alliance had been pretty much forgotten the moment she saw them. District 2 made Ashara feel so small just by existing.

Everything has changed since then- they're in the arena, Ashara has tried to kill someone, and Romello is dead. Yet, when Ashara looks at their shrunken alliance it feels almost the same as it did all those days ago. District 2 leading the way, Jordan content to hang out at the edges because he knows that his spot is secure, and Ashara trying to decide where and if she fits here.

Now, however, she doesn't have her district partner beside her to lessen the gap. No, Ashara is alone and the uncertainty of her position does not sit well with her. Life has always been about having perfect control of everything around her- academics, networking, everything that she could touch. The last year of Ashara's life has tested that philosophy, even showed her that sometimes she can't fix it all, but that rationality isn't what floods through her mind right now.

As she watches Aristona and Delias walk ahead, their faces turning back to her every few seconds but void of any acknowledgement, Ashara makes a promise to herself. She isn't going to follow them to the edges of the earth just because Aristona gives the word. Ashara will play along for now, because the only other choice is too frightening to think about, but not forever.

Verdana has barely even spotted the girl before she scrambles backwards from the tree she had been sitting under. Verdana doesn't have time to search for a name before she takes off between the trees. She can feel her gun pressed tightly between her fingers, but Verdana finds herself frozen with uncertainty.

"Who was that?" Levi gasps from behind her, his eyes searching the direction that the tribute had gone.

Verdana knows what they should be doing, but it still takes her a moment to form the words. This is exactly what she was talking about yesterday. They can't be cowering in a corner waiting for someone to else to take the reigns. If they want to live, they have to play. "Let's go."

"What?" Levi asks, but Verdana is already too far ahead to hear so his own voice just echoes back at him.

Levi doesn't know why he follows her. Perhaps it's the racing of his heart at the thought of running into another tribute. Perhaps it's the talk they had last night about focusing on what they need to do here. Perhaps it's just stupidity. Regardless, Levi sprints as fast as his legs will carry him and follows every gesture that his young district partner makes.

There is no time for thinking, there is no time for tears. There is only time for running or being left behind so Levi chooses the former.

Verdana can hear Levi's gasping breathing behind her, but she almost doesn't care. Maybe if Verdana doesn't think too hard about it, she can prove to herself that she can actually win this. In this moment it doesn't matter if hurting someone is wrong; this isn't her choice. Verdana is just trying to follow the rules. That's the only way she is going to get out of this place.

"There!" Verdana calls, pointing to their right as a figure flickers through the trees. Levi has to dig his heels into the ground to keep from slipping on the sharp pivot.

They skid to a stop at the base of a rocky hill, both Levi and Verdana searching around them for the curly-haired tribute. Levi spots her first, but uncertainty prevents him from calling her out to Verdana. Now that she is so close, the rational part of his brain has taken over again. They should get out of here. What are they doing chasing after someone that is clearly already so helpless? What are they going to do now?

Levi cries out as a weight slaps into the top of his arm. Verdana turns just in time to avoid the second projectile, eyes wide as it soars past her head. Another rock comes flying from the other direction and Levi can see the girl tribute they'd been chasing stoop down to grab another. He is unable to find where the first two rocks came from, though. Panic rises in his throat as a much larger rock comes up just short of landing on his foot.

"Run," Verdana gasps, coming to the same conclusion that Levi had just seconds ago. There are more tributes here than just the girl, and that makes this situation a lot more dangerous than she initially thought. Verdana is willing to take risks, but definitely not this one. A small rock ricochets off her hip and Verdana bends over in pain as they start running back the way they'd come.

For a few seconds, Levi can still hear rocks slamming into the ground at their heels but soon enough the sound ceases altogether. Verdana stops, but Levi doesn't get the memo and nearly crashes into her back a moment after. Verdana crouches to the ground, breaths fast and shallow as she buries the tip of her gun into the soil. Levi's hands spread against a nearby tree as he too attempts to catch his breath.

"Why didn't you… use the gun," Levi says between gasps, his eyes still wandering behind them as he wonders whether the tributes will try to follow.

Verdana looks quickly down at the weapon still clenched between her fingers before staring back at him. "I-I thought it would be… I didn't have a good shot."

"She was right there," Levi points out, but as soon as the words leave his lips he begins to realize how awful they sound. He's asking Verdana why she didn't just end that girl's life. A couple of thrown rocks was enough for him to feel like they had every right to protect themselves. They were the ones that went after her. Now, even when he can now stand up straight without struggling to breathe, Levi somehow feels worse. It's the same feeling following their escape from the Cornucopia; that sick, selfish feeling that swallows him whole the moment that danger passes.

Verdana can't bring herself to look at the gun and stuffs it back into her pocket. She doesn't have an answer for Levi. She should have used the gun; she should have taken the opportunity that was given to her, but she panicked. Verdana hates that after their conversation last night about focusing and doing what they have to do, now she's the one that's failed.

"I'll do it next time," Verdana promises, but she can tell that Levi isn't even listening. On any other day, this would bother her but right now she almost prefers it.

"Are they gone?" Erdan stammers, finally within earshot of Sadira again. His entire body feels like gelatin, in fact he's surprised that he is still even able to stand at this point. There is still a rock clutched tightly in his palm, its rough edges nipping into his skin, but Erdan refuses to put it down just yet.

"I think so," Sadira whispers.

"Are you okay?" Erdan asks. His eyes glance over her quickly as if expecting that he will find something wrong even as she shakes her head. He had been gone for maybe five minutes, just long enough for him to fill up their water bottles and stretch his legs a little bit. The moment he heard bodies ripping through the trees and heavy footsteps falling around him, Erdan knew something was wrong.

"I'm fine," Sadira says shakily. Erdan notices that she too still holds a rock in each hand, her knuckles white from holding such a tight grip for so long. Sadira's face is flushed, sweat collecting across her forehead in tiny droplets despite the cool breeze. As if her statement wasn't enough to convince either of them, she repeats herself. "I'm fine."

"Good," Erdan nods.

Sadira is still trying to process what happened- how quickly the two tributes appeared, the gun in the girl's hand, and the fact that she is even still alive right now. The part that she finds the most difficult to understand is why Erdan is standing in front of her at all. He couldn't have been that close when they found her. He could have easily run the other direction and avoided all of this. They both could have been killed, but Erdan risked it and in doing so probably saved her life. Sadira wants to believe that she would have been smart enough to use the rocks, but standing here right now she isn't so certain.

"You came back," Sadira whispers, her voice cracking with more emotion than she's been able to show since the games started. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Erdan says awkwardly. He didn't exactly choose to come help her, it's like his feet just moved on their own and there was no other option. The same thing that happened when he tried to make it to Rion in time. Erdan is glad that today didn't offer the same outcome.

Sadira stuffs a couple of rocks into her pockets before they head out. None of the heavy ones that would prevent her from running, just a few of the sharper looking ones that might act as a deterrent if anyone else gets too close. Erdan does the same, though taking more time than Sadira when selecting his rocks. Yesterday, Sadira would have simply started walking and forced him to keep up. Today, she waits patiently until he's done. She owes him at least that much.

Since she met them, Sadira has been thinking of Rion and Erdan like charity cases that she has to pull around with her. She always assumed that she would be the one to get them out of danger and point them in the right directions to stay alive. Sadira is older than both of them, so she saw herself as the leader whether she wanted to be or not. It's hard to look at their alliance the same way now that Erdan may have just saved her life.

Noemma trails behind Evi as they walk, the bottom of her spear just barely lifting high enough off the ground to prevent leaving notches in the soil. Her eyes are too sore to even glance up at the moon, which today feels far too bright despite Noemma still not being able to see very far ahead of her. It was a long night, perhaps one of the worst of her life and she's a girl that would stay up studying drill patterns until she felt like crying from frustration. Noemma can't get rid of the heaviness in her body that pulls down the corners of her lips and makes her feet drag across the dirt. Evi told her that what Jordan said isn't a big deal, but that's impossible to believe. Noemma may have almost got Evi killed just for knowing her.

Noemma rolls her neck to each side, offering herself a short moment of relief from the soreness there before it sets in again. She took the bulk of the watches last night, partly due to guilt at what Evi is probably feeling right now and partly because Noemma knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep anyways. Right now, though, it feels like she could easily doze off while standing up.

"Did you hear that?" Evi whispers, grabbing Noemma's arm and smirking at the flinch that follows. Evi is in much higher spirits this morning, mostly because the playing field seems to have evened out from yesterday. Still, even isn't exactly what Evi is going for. It's nothing personal, but she wants the advantage. Surely Noemma would also be trying to gain the upper hand if she truly understood what was going on.

The spear is the one thing that still eats at Evi's confidence. The fact that if something happened between the two of them, Noemma would be able to kill Evi just because she happened to pick up the stupid thing at the Cornucopia. Evi offered to carry it this morning when they left, noting the puffy redness around Noemma's eyes with more delight than she would care to admit. Unfortunately, holding onto the weapon seems to be about the only smart move Noemma is capable of right now. Evi, however, won't be so easily deterred.

"No," Noemma breathes, eyes wide as she turns towards Evi.

"Footsteps," Evi says softly, her lips barely inches from her ally's ear. Of course, if Noemma had been listening properly she would know that she'd heard nothing, certainly not footsteps. That only proves the point that Evi is about to make. The only one responsible enough to be wielding a weapon is Evi.

Noemma swallows hard, but her throat has gone dry. "I didn't hear anything."

"This way," Evi whispers, gently pulling Noemma to the left as if maneuvering around some kind of danger. It's almost too easy to mess with the girl, but that honestly isn't Evi's main objective. She just wants the spear, that way when Noemma inevitably gets herself killed Evi will still be able to protect herself. It's not Evi's fault that she's having a good time along the way.

In recent years, Evi has rarely been afraid of looking out for herself. Even when Evi had nothing to call her own except a couple of ratty t-shirts and a pair of shorts that she had the mind to take before leaving her foster home, it served her well. No one else seemed to have an issue pushing Evi to the backburner when that was a more convenient place for her. All the sets of 'parents' that felt free to back hand her just for speaking or lock her out of the house when she missed curfew. The same ones that kissed her on the cheek to show what loving foster parents they were when the district finally decided to check on her. It's just fine to put yourself first; that's probably the only useful thing Evi ever learned from them. Other people mean nothing.

Evi tightens her grip on Noemma's arm as they cower behind a scraggly tree, hoping that her own lack of trembling won't give away the ruse. She almost feels bad scaring Noemma, but it really is for the best. Evi knows that, at this point, Noemma already wants to protect her but that's not really part of Evi's plan anymore. Evi needs to prove to Noemma that it's better for both of them if she carries the spear instead. She might as well use the creepy forest surroundings to help her out.

"A-are they gone?" Noemma asks in a hushed whisper.

"I think so," Evi says and Noemma collapses to the ground, no longer caring about keeping her uniform clean. It's only been about a day but she can already feel the dirt coating her skin and the grease settling at the edges of her hair. Maybe if she wasn't already so tired she would care, but at this point Noemma just wants to sit down.

"Why didn't you use the spear?" Evi asks after a moment and Noemma has to glance beside her to see if the weapon is even still there. Noemma wrinkles her forehead and looks up at her ally, not really understanding what she's asking.

"Sorry?"

"Your spear. There could have been someone there," Evi reminds her, eyebrows drawn down in confusion. "Why didn't you use it?"

"I didn't see them," Noemma says carefully, but the look of doubt on her ally's face is unmistakable. Noemma looks down at the spear once again. If she had to, she would use it to protect them. There wasn't any reason to when they could hide instead.

Evi pauses for a moment, allowing the tension to spread around the pair before she speaks again. "Are you sure you want to be the one to do it?"

"Do what?" Noemma asks.

"Protect us," Evi says. "You seem scared."

Noemma opens her mouth to argue, but she can't deny that she is afraid; there is no reason to lie to Evi about that. Noemma just doesn't understand why that matters. "Aren't you?"

"I just want us to be safe," Evi tells her. "Maybe I can take the spear for a bit."

Evi reaches for the grip, but Noemma pulls it away at the same time. Noemma has been able to protect them before, and she'll do it again if she has to. It feels better to be holding the spear than to be holding nothing. Especially if Jordan really is coming after them, Noemma can't help but think she is the one who should be fighting him. She doesn't have a lot of hope in winning, but this isn't Evi's fight and Noemma doesn't want her to get hurt.

"I think I should keep it for now, if that's alright."

"I'm not-"

Aristona's words are cut off by a loud crack and a flash of light that seems to explode from their left. Jordan hits the ground as a scream rings out from in front of him, but he doesn't give himself time to register who's been hurt. A split-second glance before the gunshot rang out is all he needed to know which direction to head. The others might not have seen the tribute, but Jordan had been looking straight at her as she fired. District 10.

Jordan barely makes it a couple steps before he notices Delias sink to the ground in front of him. Jordan puts his hand on his ally's back, scanning vital areas for blood but he isn't able to find any. Delias moans as his hands clamour for his lower leg, and that's when Jordan sees the pea sized hole in his uniform pants. Jordan catches Delias' eye for a moment and the only thing that he can see on his face is agony.

"Which way?" Aristona yells over her shoulder, feeling for her sword before she realizes that she is already holding it. She saw the brightness come from her left, but the blurriness still clouding that side of her face didn't allow her to see anything further. It's hard to say if the injury is getting worse or better since yesterday. All she knows is that there is a tribute nearby, close enough to find again if they hurry.

"Wait!" Ashara calls, rushing to crouch next to Delias who Aristona only now realizes is the source of the screaming. She stares at him for a second, then glances back at where the tribute could be heading. He's hurt; he won't be able to come with them. They need to go now.

Aristona sighs loudly before grabbing Jordan, who is now standing beside her. "Which way?"

Jordan points and they take off without another glance back at their remaining allies. To Aristona, it's nothing personal, Delias and Ashara will be able to catch up, but they needthis right now. They're not at the Cornucopia, they're not eliminating the tributes, they're not doing anything that they should be right now. For people who seem to be damn bad at following their guidelines, Aristona is surprised they're so quick to call themselves 'Careers'. If this is their job, they should be better at it.

Ashara stares at her allies' backs until they disappear into the fog, not truly believing what they're doing. She turns to look at Delias, whose eyes are shut tightly in pain but who also doesn't seem to be in too rough of shape. It was a gunshot- Ashara tries to remember everything she knows about wound treatment but it's like all of the information is swirling in her mind at once.

Focus.

Ashara uses the blade of her knife to cut a strip of fabric from the bottom of his pant leg, hoping that it will be wide enough. Thankfully, the thick fabric has some give when she tries to tie it across the wound and it is able to cover it completely. Delias cringes through the whole process, but he doesn't make a single move to stop her.

"Thank you," he whispers, eyes still squeezed shut.

"You need to get up," Ashara says immediately. Just because she isn't willing to leave someone behind, doesn't mean that they're just going to sit here. Their allies are Panem knows where and there is a tribute with a gun likely still close by. Now is not the time to rest no matter how hard this is about to be.

Delias nods weakly, arranging himself so that Ashara can help him to his feet. The second his left foot hits the ground, pain explodes in his leg and blackness swirls at the edge of his vision. The wound isn't bleeding as much as he feels like it should be, but it's still easily the most pain he's ever felt. Delias doesn't like to think of himself as weak, but right now all he wants to do is lay back down and cry.

"Go," Ashara says sharply. "They could come back."

Delias is surprised by the tone of her voice, but it gets him moving. One slow, painful step at a time they begin to walk. Delias feels like he is going to throw up or pass out, but he knows that he simply cannot sit back down. It hurts so much, he'd never be able to get up again.

"Good, keep going," Ashara urges. He is thankful that she is attempting to take some of his weight, but even still they're moving impossibly slow. Delias throws his head back and stifles a cry with his fist, every step feeling like a special kind of torture. He remembers learning that adrenaline can mask the pain of injuries, but he's ready to call bullshit on that whole thing. He feels every single millimeter that the bullet tore through his leg.

"We lost them." It's Jordan's voice that comes several minutes later, but Delias isn't really focusing on anything besides the gnawing pain that grows under him. Ashara lets him back down to the ground and Delias curls up around his wound, immediately relieved just to have the pressure of his weight off of it.

"We needed to move faster," Aristona announces and Jordan nods solemnly.

Ashara doesn't answer, instead just looking down at Delias who is very clearly not listening to their conversation. Aristona moves past her to crouch beside him, noting the quick wrapping that Ashara did and reaching for it. "It's not tight enough."

Ashara shakes her head, but it's evident that she doesn't care about the dressing. "You just left?"

"Yes," Aristona nods. Delias groans as she unties the fabric and pulls it tighter, slipping the knot over so that it's no longer resting on the wound itself. He's lucky, the wound seems to have mostly cauterized itself and there is only a slow stream of blood dripping down to his ankle. Aristona should be relieved that the injury isn't likely to be deadly, just inconvenient. However, all she can think about is how slowly he was moving when her and Jordan found them again.

"How?" Ashara whispers, but Aristona doesn't bother to answer the question. She stretches the wrinkles out of the dressing and gets up to join Jordan again. They need to discuss what happened, why the tribute managed to get away again when they had been so close. They need to figure out what they are doing wrong even though Aristona has a feeling she already knows.

Maybe Ashara doesn't understand it, but the Hunger Games don't stop for one person. Aristona has been ready to lose Delias from the day they met, no matter how cruel that might sound. This is the way that things are supposed to be, losing alliance members in battle until only she remains. It might be tragic, but it's one sign that things are starting to go right again. The only sign she's had so far.

Aristona tries again to rub the bleariness from her eye before remembering that it's not going anywhere. She can't let things get out of control again. Things are going to happen the way that they're supposed to from now on. Aristona is going to make sure of it.

As Florian wakes up, the first thing that he feels is the rough scraping of bark against his cheek. The woods are silent around him and the only noise he can hear is the sound of his own breathing as Florian struggles to push himself up. A second of panic washes over him as he grabs for the tree branch, barely remembering that he is still several feet off the ground in time to catch himself.

Florian looks slowly around the base of the tree, deciding after many minutes that it's safe enough to climb back down. His pants catch on a protruding branch and rip a couple inches up his calf, but soon enough he is back on the ground. Florian's limbs ache and his neck feels like it's been kinked for hours. When he thinks about the position he woke up in, Florian realizes that it probably has been.

Tears drip down onto the soil as he walks, but Florian doesn't take much notice. He's exhausted and sore enough to forget to wipe his eyes, but not enough to push away the memory of last night. The moon is still in the same position in the empty sky and the air feels just as heavy. It's not hard to believe that very little time has passed since Ira was last with him.

Florian hiccups through a pained laugh, but there's no amusement in the noise. He can almost pretend that they're back at the edge of the Cornucopia, and that any second his district partner will emerge from the trees. He can see her flinching when he calls her name again, then smiling when she realizes that it's just him. Florian looks around for Ira even though he knows that none of that is going to happen. It's simply too painful not to try.

Inches from him, Florian sees the stripes of blood on the ground and a loud gasp fills the air around him. Florian attempts to turn himself away, but only manages to catch his ankle during the sharp pivot. He lands with both hands on the soiled ground and the smell of metal stuffs itself quickly down his throat. Florian gags and brings a wrist up to stop himself from vomiting but seeing the chips of dried blood and dirt on his skin just makes the feeling worse.

Florian pushes himself away from the streaked ground and runs clumsily until his boots hit water barely a hundred feet away. He plunges both hands into the trickling stream, gasping to try and eliminate the smell of blood from his airway. Florian scraps his hands against the gravel at the bottom of the stream until they burn, but he swears that he can still see the auburn stripes across his skin.

His entire body is trembling and muffled whimpers fill his throat before Florian finally begins to feel clean again. His fingertips are like ice when he removes them from the stream, bringing them up to wipe at tears that just keep replenishing down his cheeks. Florian cannot think of anything else to do even though it's far too late for his tears to do any good.

He should have done something yesterday, but he didn't. These are the thoughts that repeat over and over in his mind until they begin to feel like a noose tightening around his throat. Ira could have left him when Florian fell, but she risked herself to pull him back up. She should have let him die. It's not fair that he lived and she didn't. Ira has always been stronger than he could ever hope to be.

Florian's next breath catches in his throat as the sound of footsteps cuts through his ears. He freezes for a moment, hands reaching out for something to hide behind before Florian can even think of what to do. He crawls to lean against a thick tree trunk that lies only a few paces away, just as a voice joins the dragging steps. It's impossible to make out the whispers, but it sounds like two of the girls. If Florian concentrates too hard, one of the voices begins to almost sound like Ira.

What do I do now? Florian asks himself. For the first time in his life, there are no thoughts that follow. His mind stays as silent as the woods around him, and all Florian can think to do is curl into a ball and hope that whatever end he soon meets will at least be fast.

Jory looks at the back of Sinead's head as they walk, wondering if he should try and talk to her again but also not knowing what there could possibly be to say. Some part of him thought, no hoped, that when they finally left Chase, Sinead would go back to normal. The only person that seems to be in the mood for talking is Capri, but Jory finds it hard to concentrate on what she's saying. All he can think about is what to do about Sinead.

"Where are we going?" Capri asks and Jory can only shake his head. He wants to have an answer for her, in fact he can't believe that he doesn't have one. The arena seemed so straight forward in the Capitol. Jory figured he would be tense, even afraid, but he never thought that he would be lost. It's a feeling that Jory has never had to get used to. He's always known exactly where he was heading. Now, they could be walking in circles and he's not sure that he would care.

Sinead turns to look at the pair, but her face is blank. Jory tries to force a smile to his lips, anything to show Sinead that he's there for her, but she's looking straight ahead before he can manage. He feels so much weaker when Sinead looks at him. It feels like she knows what he did and just isn't saying anything. It feels like he should be trying to protect Sinead rather than play the game that he's been locked in.

It feels like he made a mistake at the Cornucopia.

Capri sighs even though she wasn't expecting Jory to have a real answer. He's been like this since yesterday and at this point Capri is getting more than a little bit annoyed. They've been walking for hours, stopping to take a couple nibbles of some energy bars, and then going again. It all feels pointless. "Do you have a plan?"

Jory is silent for a few second, staring directly ahead of them without even acknowledging Capri's question. She is about to ask again when he finally opens his mouth. "No."

"You did in the Capitol," Capri states.

"We're not in the Capitol anymore," Jory reminds her. "Things change."

"Didn't seem like it at the Cornucopia," Capri shrugs and Jory's head turns so quickly to look at her that it hurts.

There's no way she could know. "What do you mean?"

"I don't care that you killed her," Capri says blankly, unable to lie and say that she doesn't enjoy finally having Jory's full attention. Her statement is still true, though.

Jory shushes her, watching the back of Sinead's head for any sign that his district partner might have heard Capri. His ally rolls her eyes. "She doesn't know."

"Keep it that way," Jory whispers.

"You don't think she can handle it?" Capri asks, one side of her lip twitching upward.

"I don't want her to," Jory says automatically. "Not after Chase."

Capri pauses, unsure for a moment whether she wants to go down this road before deciding that it probably won't make things worse at this point. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to die because she can't deal with this."

A tear slides down Sinead's cheek but she keeps her head up and refuses to let it fall. She can hear every hushed whisper that her allies are exchanging behind her, even if they don't realize it. She hadn't been sure about the blood on Jory's pants, but Sinead had her suspicions. She didn't have proof that Capri thought she was useless until right now, but Sinead isn't stupid. The fact that she grieved for her friend doesn't mean that she is incapable of living. It just means that she is human, which is more than she can currently say for either of the people walking behind her. It makes her wonder what she saw in Jory in the Capitol.

Did he change somewhere between the Capitol and the arena, or was he never actually her friend to begin with?

Sinead stops when she sees the grass moving ahead of her, a gasp slipping through her lips before she can think to stop it. Her hands go up defensively and her body stiffens as she hears Capri and Jory fall silent behind her. Trembles vibrate through her body but Sinead does not dare to pull her eyes away. It's Jory's voice that eventually glides through the harmony of laboured breaths, but for once Sinead doesn't need his warning.

"Don't move."

No Deaths.

A/N: Hello, hello. Not much to say here as this was another more 'set up' type chapter, but hopefully it was still enjoyable. Next chapter will start up with deaths again, but I wanted some time to check in and see how they're all holding up.

What do you think Sinead saw?

~Olive