Chapter 25: A New Alliance

Kyra Porter

Azalea, one of District 11's mentors this year, grips my hand tightly. "Kyra, please. Don't do this to yourself."

Even though she's my best friend, I don't bother to answer her. I've been silent for the past six days. What's one more?

"It's not your fault. The Capitol Reaped her. It had nothing to do with you."

She's wrong. It's all my fault. I can't remember ever feeling as hopeless as I do now.

My baby is dead because of me.

I was 18 when I was Reaped for the 37th Hunger Games.

I was terrified. I was probably the most harmless kid in that Arena. I hated confrontation and would never kill to save even my own life.

My boyfriend visited me in District 6's small Justice Building.

"Kyra, you can do it," he had said. "Hide, just hide. You have to win. I need you to win. I'll be waiting for you, I promise."

My mentor Byke, District 6's first and only Victor at the time, seemed to agree with him. Seemed to realize that the only way I'd win was if everyone else dropped dead.

So I won. I hid out and waited for all the other tributes to die off. Not a spectacular win, but a win nonetheless.

I should have realized the Capitol wouldn't like it. No final showdown. My last two competitors gave each other fatal wounds and I watched as they both bled out.

A boring finale. One that cost my boyfriend his life.

Because when I was shown to my fancy new house in Victor's Village, I'm sure it's obvious who I found dead on the floor beside a hauntingly beautiful white rose.

Finding the love of my life dead sent me into a numbing shock. I didn't sleep or eat. Whenever I tried I would vomit instantly. I was constantly in bed or getting sick in the bathroom.

I wanted to die. I grew up in the orphanage. My parents had died when I was two. What was the point in living when the only person I loved was dead? I only came out of it when Byke, who realized my sickness seemed to go past my grief, forced me to the doctor's.

That's when I figured out I was pregnant.

I had been pregnant for three months before the Games apparently. The baby in my stomach had survived the Games with me. I had laughed humorlessly at that. So technically this little baby was the youngest ever Victor.

But my baby saved my life. I had found a new will to live that day. I had to keep my boyfriend's baby alive. I had to keep a piece of him with me.

Kylie was the most beautiful being I had ever laid my eyes upon. My sweet, precious child who saved me from losing myself.

Byke warned me that the Capitol wouldn't spare her. He lost his twin brother to the Games the year after he won. I realized that my daughter would be Reaped if the Capitol ever found out about her.

So I tried to hide her. I kept her in the house all the time, never letting her leave. Byke home schooled her. Sometimes, I fear she would resent me for isolating her but she seemed to understand. She was always so accepting and understanding.

To pass the time, I taught her my only talent. Painting. That was my talent to show to the Capitol. It turns out that young Kylie was a gifted painter as well. Our little house in Victor's Village was filled to the brim with paints and canvases.

I treasured every piece of art my daughter made.

The day of her first Reaping was the first time she had left the house in ages. I remember the confused looks sent her way. No one knew who she was. It made me smile. She couldn't be Reaped if only two people in District 6 were aware of her existence.

But somehow, the Capitol knew. They always knew.

She was the first tribute Reaped.

Her last name gave it away and the whole District stared at me with pity as I sobbed on stage. I was filled with regret. I should have had her trained. I should have prepared her more. Then maybe she would have won.

But instead, the light of my life was speared in the stomach on the first day of the 50th Hunger Games.

I haven't spoken since.

I stayed in the Control Room after her death, ignoring all the looks of pity sent my way by the other mentors. Azalea, the mentor for the District 11 girls and my best friend, held me while I sobbed. Mags, the kind mentor from 4, offered to watch my remaining tribute. Byke did as well, since he was already watching over the remaining male from 6. But I needed the distraction.

But yesterday, District 6's last tribute fell victim to the volcano. I don't need to live for anyone anymore.

Someone touches my ahnd, jolting my back to the present. Azalea is still there, looking at me with sorrow in her eyes.

"Kyra, please. Say something. I can't bear to see you in so much pain."

So now I'm hurting her as well. She and Byke are my only friends. But Kylie was my lifeline. The reason I smiled. The very reason I lived.

"I want to be alone," I croak and Azalea's eyes widen at finally hearing me speak. Her face falls when she registers what I've said.

She grips my hand. "Are you sure?"

I nod.

"Just remember. Kylie would want you to be happy. She would never blame you for what happened."

I turn away, my eyes stinging. It doesn't matter of Kylie would blame me or not. I already blame myself.

"I'm here for you, okay. I'll be there for you when you need me. Don't forget."

Azalea finally leaves and my eyes stray to the paintings on my wall in the Tribute Center. I brought Kylie's best works along with me every year so I wouldn't miss her too much. Oh how Kylie loved to paint. We would spend hours painting together.

My mind replays Kylie's death over and over until my whole body is racked with sobs. I keep seeing that spear fly through the air and pierce through her frail, little body.

I couldn't save her. She was Reaped because of me. To punish me. It's all my fault.

The crushing guilt drives me to my feet and into my closet. It feels as though I rummage for ages, throwing things about, before I find the box hidden at the very back. With shaking hands, I pull out the syringe of morphling I found last year behind some rubble on the streets of Six.

I never used it before. Why would I have? I still had Kylie. My baby girl who was with me even when I was in the Arena. But now she's gone. I have nothing else to live for.

I had saved the morphling because it was a rare and valuable resource. I knew many people in six used in the way other Districts used drinks. I had saved it as a last resort.

I knew the rules.

Only use it if you really really need it. Once you start, you'll be hooked forever. No going back.

But I'm ready for the risks. Anything to forget.

Before I can talk myself out of a decision I know will ruin my life, I fill the syringe, line it up to my arm, and push down on the plunger.

I'm so sorry, Kylie.

Haymitch Abernathy

I wake up on my eighth day in the Arena just wanting to go back home.

I want to see my family. I want to talk with my mom and swing Hayden around as he squeals. I want to kiss Serena until she smiles so bright it lights up my world.

Instead, I'm stuck in this terrible place.

It's very annoying if I'm being honest.

I wonder how the Capitol would feel if it was their children who were forced into the Games. I bet they wouldn't like that very much.

I can still see the charred ground where the mountain used to be. The mere sight of it makes me shudder.

It doesn't matter. It's over now. Besides, at least it got rid of some tributes for you.

Now you're closer to going home.

Home. The only thing that continues to fuel my desire to live. Even thinking about District 12 is painful, so I force myself to think about something else.

My mind immediately goes to the end of the Arena, and how it's blocked off by that maze. It seems unfair that there isn't any way to pass it. Surely the Capitol has something beyond those hedges? My fingers itch to figure out what it is. I bitterly wish I could just burn the maze down.

Don't be silly. The Capitol would never let that happen.

I wonder how far the maze extends. When I first saw it, I assumed that it covered the whole arena. But maybe it ends off somewhere...

And then I could slip past it.

I quickly scale a tree and look around. I can't see any tributes, which means they're either not in the forest or they're being hidden by all these trees. I realize that the area I'm in isn't really a forest. It reminds me more of woods. I spot an empty patch of land a couple of miles in one direction. I can't see beyond that but maybe there's no hedges there.

Knowing the Capitol, there probably is. But it wouldn't hurt to go and check.

It's not like I have anything better to do anyway.

One part of my brain is screaming at me to stop moving around, that someone is going to find to sooner or later. But the other part of my brain, the reckless and bored side, is telling me that I'm bound to have to fight someone soon so why not go and look for the end of the Arena anyway.

It's a mystery that's plagued me for quite a while and seeing as this is probably my last chance to solve it, the first side of my brain wins and I start to climb down from the tree.

My feet have just grazed the grass when I hear a familiar sound that makes all the hairs on my arms rise.

I plant my feet on the ground and turn around slowly, fighting heavily against the urge to curse as loud as I can.

Because, standing as a pack in front of me, as the same squirrel mutts I encountered on my third day in the Arena.

There are eight of them, staring at me with shiny, beady eyes and those surprisingly sharp teeth. The first time I saw them, I had thought they were harmless, maybe even cute.

Now I have scars all over my arms showing how fatal they are.

I pull two knives from my pack, dreading the inevitable fight. They've already noticed me and there's no way I can escape.

Unless...

Maybe I could run.

The second I turn around, I feel two sharp pinches in my back. I fight back a shout of surprise and drop to the ground, crushing two of the mutts into the ground. The impact causes one of the mutt's teeth to go straight into my back and I grimace. While I'm still on the ground, another mutt decides to jump onto my chest, tearing a gash through my shirt with its teeth. I stop this with a well placed knife to the to my feet, I stab another two before taking off through the woods at a sprint.

Maybe the Capitol is feeling nice today, because the remaining three mutts don't seem catch up to me. Still, I'm not about to risk looking back. I continue through the woods, trying not to make too much noise.

After about ten minutes of full on sprinting, I start to feel dizzy and slow to a jog. I frown, trying to remember the last time I had a proper meal. Being in a fight to the death has made me forget about my body's basic needs. I've done a good job at rationing out the food and water Reynald sent to me earlier in the Games but my supply is still running low. I think I'm done to a half bottle of water, a couple apple slices, and two slices of bread. That, along with my non-edible items. The matches, blanket, cloth, rope, and, of course, the poison-reverse pills. I don't trust that Reynald is still sober to send me more food if I need it. Years of starving in District 12 has taught me how to conserve food.

But that doesn't mean I'm not absolutely starving right now.

A particularly strong wave of dizziness forces me to start walking as I grab my water bottle and take a few sips. I run my tongue over my cracked lips with a sigh and decide to munch on an apple slice.

I finally reach the clearing I saw earlier today at about midday, the sun shining high in the sky.

I grin. This means I'm at least half way to the other side of the woods. I should be able to reach the other side by the end of today.

The clearing is empty but I still make sure to inspect the surrounding trees before stepping out into the open.

Who knows where a fellow tribute could be hiding?

I obviously didn't check well enough, because I only get part of the way across the clearing when something slams straight into my pack. I stumble, my hands catching me before I hit the ground.

Seriously?

My hands find a knife in my pack. Confused, I inspect it with a frown. It must have been thrown with quite some force to have knocked me over. I'm lucky it hit my pack instead of me.

I belatedly realize the danger I'm in when I hear laughter ring out from behind me.

I freeze, my stomach dropping somewhere near my toes.

Someone's found me.

"Well, this one will be an easy kill. Look. He can't even stay on his own two feet."

Of course.

I grab two of my own knives and spin around, cursing under my breath. Standing in front of me are the Careers. Well three of them at least. I breathe out a sigh of relief that Shimmer isn't here.

But Gloria, Chase, and Dennick are pretty ruthless in their own right.

And fatal when all together.

"Oh, look," Chase says, sounding bored. "It's 12. You know, we were hoping you would find a way to die on your own. Meeting you once was boring enough."

"I could say the same thing about you guys," I say, keeping my voice light and steady. "You all aren't as memorable as you must think."

Of course they aren't. Their only personality traits are being sadistic and idiotic.

"It was funny watching you break down after we killed that seven boy," Dennick says with a sneer. "Have you gotten over it yet?"

The question doesn't sound even the smallest bit genuine and I suck in a sharp breath as images of Jack's death flash through my mind. Don't think about it, Haymitch. Not now.

I notice the burns covering their bodies.

"How was the volcano?" I snap back. "I've heard it was pretty hot." I give a mock glace around, as though I'm counting how many opponents I have and releasing the numbers don't add up. "Did you lose some allies in there? I thought Careers were supposed to be tough."

Gloria, who's burns are the worst, glares at me. If any of them are hurt by my words, they don't show it. "They were the weak ones. It was bound to happen one day or another. We're the strong ones. We're still alive."

I give her a slow clap. "Great job." My voice drips with sarcasm.

Chase frowns at me and glances at his allies. "Can we just kill him already?"

I tense. I need to find a way to keep them talking. It's the only way I can think to buy myself some more time.

I suddenly remember that some of the Careers are missing. My previous relief at Shimmer's absence turns into confusion. A quick run down on who's left tells me that Velvet isn't here either. For some reason unknown to me, the Careers have split up.

"I see your leader isn't here," I snap back, a smirk making its way to my face. "I wonder why. Did she get tired of all your dead weight?"

They all bristle, drawing their weapons slowly. I belatedly realize that I'm terribly out-numbered.

Why are you making them angry? That'll just make them kill you in a more painful way.

Gloria gives me a condescending look. "We decided to split up early. That happens every year."

"He's a 12," Chase reminds her. "They don't usually even make it far enough to think about that. Didn't last year's 12s die in the Bloodbath?"

I fight back a growl and avoid the question. He's right. They both died five minutes into their Games. "Why would you split up? That sounds pretty dumb to me."

Dennick rolls his eyes. "Since we're going to kill you anyway, we might as well explain. It's so we don't have to against each other in the end.

I snort. "I thought you guys didn't care about killing? Haven't you murdered at least half the kids in here? Isn't that what you've been raised to do?"

I ignore the smarter part of my brain telling me to shut up.

Gloria narrows her eyes at me. "It's different when it's your allies."

I fold my arms over my chest but make sure to keep my knives well-gripped. "Most people wouldn't turn on their allies at all."

"Well, we would have to sooner or later," she snaps. "There's a Career custom. When the number of tributes starts to get too low, we all fight each other. Then, after the big fight—which we call the Melee—whoever is left alive can split in any way they chose. We give everyone half a day to recover. Then, anyone is fair game. The three of us decided to stick together."

I suck in a slow breath. They must have decided I'm not getting out of this alive. Why else would they give me all this information?

"So you decided to have your big fight after the volcano blew? That doesn't seem very nice."

"It was the best time to do it," Chase says defensively.

I glower at them, not able to believe that people would actually turn on their allies in what seems like a pre-planned fight. Every single year. "Pity you all didn't burn to death on that volcano. Would have made my job much easier."

Dennick grips his spear and I take note of how his stance is suddenly ready to strike. "You actually think you have a shot at winning? What a joke. It's a pity you're not dead yet. Then we wouldn't all be stuck having this conversation."

"You could let me leave," I point out. "Then, I wouldn't be bothering you."

They all give me deadpan looks.

"Well, you won't be bothering us for much longer," Chase says, drawing his sword. "Because you'll be dead in a few minutes."

I barely have time to give a short shout of surprise before all three of them are rushing at me, weapons flying through the air.

Gloria's throwing knives are the easiest to dodge and I throw myself to the ground as two come sailing at my chest. It must have been her knife that hit my pack earlier.

As I jump to my feet again, Dennick's spear barely misses impaling my shoulder as I pivot. The spear catches my pack and I stumble, but a quick knife to his arm makes Dennick drop his weapon. I rip my pack off my back, not willing to let it slow me down, and toss it onto the floor. Chase draws his sword and I jump out of the way. Even though the Careers are stronger and bigger than me, I thank my lucky stars that I seem to be faster.

I'm just turning around when a knife flies into my side. I gasp, doubling over, as Gloria laughs from somewhere in front of me. I feel another stab as a second knife pierces my arm.

They're going to kill you, Haymitch.

I manage to stand up straight as Gloria rushes at me, another knife in her hand. I wait for her to get within reaching distance, and when she does, I grip her shoulder and flip her onto the ground. She gives a loud cry of surprise, obviously not expecting me to fight back. To give her credit, she jumps back up immediately but I can tell her rhythm is thrown off.

We swing at each other and I'm shaken by the pure hatred in her eyes. She really wants to kill me. And I know she can and will unless I kill her first.

She lunges out to slice at me and I jump back, twisting away. I hesitate for the briefest of moments before launching myself at her with a perfectly placed stab to the neck.

For a moment, she's frozen and silence rings in my ears. Then, Gloria's body goes still, a hand fluttering to touch where I've stabbed her. I back away. Her eyes roll back and she sinks to the ground.

Boom.

There are two surprised cries behind me. Chase and Dennick stare at me with a new apprehension. Is that sadness I see in their eyes? I doubt it.

With joint battle cries, the two of them rush at me. I manage to shove Dennick away as he approaches me. He doesn't stay down for long and we wrestle until I manage to get a knife into his stomach. He sinks to the ground, groaning and Chase comes at me with his sword. He swings it and the tip catches my elbow, piercing my sleeve and drawing blood. I'm thrown off balance and stab my remaining knife into his side. He growls but doesn't stop advancing. We engage in an odd battle, a shortsword against a knife. I manage a couple of nicks but it's obvious that his weapon will soon overpower mine.

As I block another swing, I remember that although I don't have allies, Chase does.

I remember a second too late because Dennick grabs me from behind and shoves me into the ground, effectively knocking the wind out of me. I try and spring to my feet only to be shoved face first into the ground again. He kneels on my back, not letting me get up. I twist my body to the side so he's thrown off me.

We roll like that for a couple of seconds, both trying to get the upper hand. Chase and Gloria don't attack in fear of hurting their ally. Finally, I roll on top of Dennick's struggling form and pin him to the ground.

I'm faced with a dilemma. I really don't want to have to kill him. But I know he and Chase will kill me unless I kill them first.

I see Dennick's spear out of the corner of my eye and decide to make my move first. I whip a knife from my pocket and thrust it down, catching him hard in the stomach. Dennick cries out and jerks his body. I almost go toppling right onto his spear.

I yank my knife out and stab again, opening another wound. Dennick's stomach bleeds freely and he groans, his grip on his spear releasing. He curls into himself and I look at his huddled form. Then at Gloria's dead body a few feet away. I pause. I did that.

Taking advantage of my brief distraction, Chase pushes me to my feet and slices at my left arm before I even remember he's there. I gasp at the gash that's started to gush with blood.

"You killed them!" He gasps with outrage, moving to slice again.

This time, I'm ready and block it with my knife. "Don't sound so surprised. I've already killed one of you guys, I can do it again." I see him pale as he remembers that I'm the one who killed the other District 2 girl–Alana I think it was—during our first night in the Arena. "Besides," I continue with a side glance. "Dennick's not dead. Yet."

Chase roars and swings again with more vigor. I twist to the side, hissing when it catches the same gash he opened earlier. I grip the last knife I had on hand—why did I leave my pack?—and plunge it into his good hand. Like I'd hoped, he drops the shortsword with a grunt. I leap back, spinning around to locate my pack. I need more than one knife.

Where is it?

I'm about to sprint to try and reach it when I go sprawling. Chase, seeing my distraction, has tripped me. With a smirk, he slams his foot down on my right hand. Instinctively, I let go of the knife and he grabs it with a grin.

I curse. Now I have no weapon. I can only hope his good hand is injured enough that I can get away. I roll to the side a few meters, wincing when my arm rubs against the floor, and jump to my feet. Chase expects this and swings the knife at me. I barely manage to avoid being sliced by my own knife and the irony of it drives me to shove him backwards.

He doesn't fall like I hope he would, instead jumping onto me and forcing me to my knees. With a savage stab, my own knife pierces through my shoulder, right near my collarbone. I gasp as he pushes the knife down farther.

My head spins widely and my vision threatens to black out. For a moment, I'm sure I'm about the pass out. Or die. The pain is unbelievable. It's all I can do not to sink to the ground as Chase grips the collar of my shirt, hauling me to my feet.

I use my good arm to try to get away but my efforts are useless. Chase simply wrenches both of my arms behind my back. My vision fades in and out and I know I won't be able to get away. I catch a glimpse of my own knife being held against my throat. Is this how it's going to end? Slit in the throat by my own knife. The idea is almost laughable.

I do my best to twist and turn but Chase's grip is strong. My legs are shaking with the effort to stay conscious and my head throbs. I can feel blood from my wound pouring over my shoulder, soaking my shirt. The only coherent thought that I can form is that I hope Hayden and Serena aren't watching.

Thinking of them having to watch me die gives me a little strength and I scratch anywhere I can reach. I kick Chase in the leg and his grip loosens for a second, his arm dropping. He lets out a shout of anger before yanking my head back and putting me into a chokehold. My hands are shaking as I try and get him to release his grip. I gag as his thick forearms press down on my throat. Black spots form in my already fading vision and I know I'm a goner.

I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't home home.

Chase brings my own knife to my throat and pushes down slowly, teasingly. I wince as the skin breaks and close my eyes, fighting waves of dizziness and fear. All I can hope for now is a quick death.

Maysilee Donner

My feet ache as they rub against my shoes, making me wish I could just walk around barefoot. When I was ten, district 12 had a very harsh winter. Things were so bad even the merchants were struggling. Both me and Maylene had outgrown our shoes but our parents could only afford to buy one new pair.

Maylene offered for me to have them but I was having none of it. I went through that winter walking around in shoes far too ripped up to actually shield me from the cold. It was terrible and I got frostbite, but knowing Maylene's feet were warm made me happy with my choice.

About a half mile ahead of me, I hear raised voices. Angry voices. I tense and my hand grips my blowgun instinctively. There's a fight going on. But it's far enough away that I could leave now, before whoever is there finds me too.

Judging by how loud the voices are getting, I conclude that the Careers have cornered someone. No one else would dare be this loud so late in the Games. There's a sharp cry but not one of pain. More of surprise. I frown. The voice sounds oddly familiar.

I hear the sound of blades clashing together and I creep forwards, itching to see who's in the clearing ahead. I know I should turn and run now, but my curiosity overpowers my common sense.

It'll be fine. I'll hide behind the trees.

There's a cannon.

The sound is so close and so loud that I actually stumble, grabbing onto a tree to prevent from falling. Nine tributes left. I instinctively glance down at my blowgun and catch sight of William's bracelet on my wrist. Just the sight of it makes me want to curl into a ball and sob.

But I'm trying to win now. For him. For my family. For me.

That means I shouldn't go running into danger.

I think of my poisoned darts. I could kill whoever is there and still manage to get out in time. My blowgun means I can attack from a distance and my darts ensure that each blow will kill.

If I'm right and there is at least one Career there, that means I'll be taking out a strong enemy.

I hear more struggles of a fight and my feet make the decision for me. I take off at a slight run, taking great care to not step on any loose branches.

I slow down when I reach a clearing and place myself behind a group of trees. There's a body a few feet away. That must have been who the canon was for. I peer closer. Long dark hair covers the face of the tribute, a girl, but doesn't hide the stab wound in her neck. I shiver.

A groan alerts me to another figure laying just in front of the fallen girl Career, who I realized must be the last girl from District 2. There's a boy, another Career, convulsing violently on the floor. I actually gag at the amount of blood pouring from his stomach and onto the grass, staining it a ghastly red. He isn't dead yet but I know he will be soon.

Who's still alive?

There's a shout and I peer around the trees to find two boys in the middle of the clearing. They both look older than me and have dark hair. The larger of the two has forced the smaller one onto his knees. I see a knife and then there's a sharp gasp of pain. The one with the knife, who I'm guessing is also a Career, hauls the other to his feet roughly.

I can only watch from a side angle as the non-Career struggles violently as his hands are wrenched behind his back and a knife placed at his throat. He seems to be the most injured of the two as he doesn't seem able to get away. The Career is ruthless, slowly tracing the knife along the other boy's neck, taunting him. He shifts slightly and I realize that it's Chase, the last tribute remaining from 2. He must be trying a revenge kill for his district partner.

I sink back into the trees. Chase will kill the other boy and then I could easily kill him the second he's done. This other tribute seems too dangerous to spare him. He's killed two Careers—the boy convulsing on the ground has gone scarily still—and would probably kill me if I let him live.

But then the other boy bucks violently and Chase grips his hair to keep him in place and I realize that I know who this other tribute is.

It's Haymitch.

I should have known I would run into him sooner or later. The amount of tributes is less than a quarter from what we started with. But I was really hoping I wouldn't have to see him. Because I wouldn't know whether or not to kill him. And now his life is in my hands.

I can chose to kill Chase and let him live, or I could easily let Chase kill him. What would be better for me?

But then I think of his brother crying when he got Reaped, of Haymitch breaking down the day before our interviews, and of how Leila said he didn't really seem all that bad.

I make a split second decision. I line up a dart and shoot Chase directly in the back of the neck.

The reaction is instantaneous. Chase makes a noise somewhere between a gasp of pain and a groan. His grip on the knife loosens and he starts to twitch the same way Ana did when I shot her. Haymitch stands frozen as Chase twitches and jerks against him. Blood spurts from his mouth, coating Haymitch's face. He looks too shocked to turn away.

Finally, Chase crumples to the ground and Haymitch jumps back with a chocked off gasp. He's absolutely drenched in blood. Most of it seems to have belonged to Chase but I'm sure a fair amount is his own.

I grimace as Chase continues to twitch on the floor. The poison on the dart must not have been enough. I feel a twinge of guilt at having made his suffering last longer.

Haymitch reaches down to grab the knife. His movements are slow and he sways on his feet dangerously.

His pupils look dilated as he whips from side to side, the knife in his hand. It's coated in blood and gleams in the sun. He's looking for who killed Chase. He's looking for me.

I pause. Is there a chance that he would kill me even after I saved him?

I step out of the woods, careful to make sure my blowgun is pointing at the floor. To show I won't hurt him. Unless he attacks first. "We'd live longer with two of us."

Haymitch spins to face me and I see something flicker in his eyes when he realizes who I am.

He brings up a hand to rub his neck, probably trying to get some of Chase's blood off of him. "Guess you just proved that." There's a distinct pause as his eyes run me over. I know he's wondering if I was with William and Leila. "Allies?"

I nod. "Allies."

Haymitch still has a hand over his neck as I look down at the bodies of the three Career. The faces of our ruthless enemies look almost peaceful in death.

"They are all dead, right?" I ask Haymitch without turning around. "I didn't hear any cannons."

"Gloria's dead." His voice is clipped and short. "Her cannon went off before you came, I think."

I look at Chase closely. He's gone perfectly still. Then, without warning, two cannons go off one after the other, making the ground beneath my feet tremble.

Boom. Boom.

I freeze, remembering how the ground shook before the volcano exploded. The volcano is over, I tell myself sternly. No point in remembering it now. When I've convinced myself that the grass beneath my feet isn't going to start spewing lava, I move to pick up a pack from the floor. It's big and black and pretty heavy. It must be from the Cornucopia. I grimace at the dried blood on it. "Come on Haymitch, let's take the packs and go. The other Careers might come after us if we stay here."

It's silent.

"Haymitch?" My blowgun flies up as I turn around, expecting the worst.

He's standing right where he was when I shook his hand. I breathe out a sigh of relief. I had honestly thought someone attacked him in the two seconds I had my back turned.

He doesn't seem to realize how scared he had me. His eyes are wide and he's shaking. I notice a huge gash on the arm of the hand pressed firmly against his neck. It's dripping blood onto the ground. On the hand carrying the knife, I catch sight of his token shining dully on his ring finger.

"Haymitch, are you okay?" I take a step towards him. He doesn't seem to notice me. His eyes are locked on the ground and I wonder if he's in shock. I wouldn't blame him. He was almost killed just a few minutes ago.

"Haymitch?" He looks at me with confused eyes. "What's wrong?"

"N—nothing." He turns around so I can't see his face. "I'm fine, let's go."

"Are you sure?" I don't want to risk us getting found because we weren't careful enough.

He avoids the question and glances at the pack in my hand. "That's Gloria's pack, right?"

That must be the name of the girl from District 2. I nod. "We should take the other packs too. I'm running low on stuff."

He nods back but he looks distracted. "Good idea." He scoops up another of the black Career packs and moves away to pick up a dark green one that must be his. There's a hole in it.

He shoulders the two packs and tucks the knife inside his. I can't help but notice how disorientated he looks. He must be drained after fighting and killing two Careers.

"Are you sure you're ready to go?"

"Yes. Come on."

Haymitch seems to have chosen a random direction to walk in but I trust his judgement better than mine since he's probably been in this part of the arena longer than I have. He probably has a little hideout somewhere in these woods. His strides are slow enough that I can walk easily beside him.

I want to ask him what he's been doing in the Arena for the past week but I decide to wait until he's recovered from his near brush with death. Besides, we should probably put some distance between us and the dead Careers so that the hovercrafts can pick them up.

I can hear Maylene in my head telling me not to trust Haymitch. But I honestly don't believe that Haymitch will kill me. And a small part of me doesn't want to be in the Arena alone. I started out with so many allies and watching them all die, William especially, has made me feel more alone than ever.

I frown. Haymitch's strides were slow before but now he's stumbling as well. His breathing sounds more like gasping. Like he's going to pass out.

At first, I put it down to shock. He was almost killed and probably would have died if I hadn't stepped in. He had to hear those canons and he does have a pretty nasty gash on his arm.

I stop after a few minutes when his stumbling turns more into almost falling over. He's barely keeping himself upright. "Do you want to bandage that up?"

He glances over at me. "What?" His voice is slurred and his eyes still have that glazed look to them.

I gesture to the arm he has pressed against his neck with a frown. Why is he keeping it there? If Chase's blood hasn't came off yet, he's going to have to wash it out. Rubbing at it won't do anything. "Your arm. It's bleeding a lot."

"Oh." He looks down, his eyes widening by a fraction at all the blood. Then he shakes his head. "I'm fine. Let's just go."

He makes to start walking again but I grab his free hand to stop him. He stumbles, almost crashing into me. I put my hands on his shoulders to steady him as he sways. I realize with a sinking feeling in my stomach that I've severely underestimated just how injured he is. His face is ashen, almost white, and his eyes are drooping closed.

"Haymitch!" I exclaim as his legs give out from underneath him and he falls to the ground with a groan. "What is it?"

"I'm fine," he says for what must be the millionth time. "Can we just keep—"

"No." I say firmly. "We're not leaving until you tell me what's wrong."

It's not like I have a choice anyway. There's no way he'll be able to walk while he's barely conscious.

He looks dazed. "I don't know. Something doesn't feel right."

I glance at his arm again. It's still bleeding, but isn't so bad that he should be loosing consciousness. I get on my knees beside him, pulling the washed piece of cloth from my bag, feeling a pang when I remember William used it. I push my feelings away. "Give me your arm." When he hesitates, I add, "I'm just going to bandage it up for you."

I realize the true extent of my carelessness when his hand finally drops from his neck, revealing something much worse.

A cut, definitely deep enough to reach an important nerve, is on his neck, just above the side of his collarbone. And it's positively gushing blood. With all the blood already covering him, there's no way I could have seen it before.

No wonder he collapsed. An injury like this could be fatal.

My stomach drops at the thought of losing an ally for sixth time.

"Haymitch!" I cry. "Your neck! Why didn't you say anything?"

Somehow he gets to his feet, leaning against a tree for support. "It's not that bad—"

"It's pouring blood," I say impatiently. "Your neck is practically a blood fountain! You have to bandage it."

He frowns, looking down. He makes a strangled choking sound when he catches the blood dripping down his shoulders. I start forward as he stumbles, his eyes rolling back into his head. He keels over and I barely manage to catch him before we both hit the floor.

A bit of suspense for you guys. Our two main characters are finally in an alliance together. Maysilee is pretty bad at recognizing injuries to be honest even though Iris is a healer. But to cut her some slack, Haymitch was a much more injured than he was letting on. Kylie's mom ends up being the morphling girl who participated in the third Quarter Quell. It's pretty tragic actually. Her daughter dies in one Quell and she dies in one 25 years later.