Chapter 6: Journey Into Terror

I don't get much sleep that night. I keep having nightmares of Peeta and I both dying in the arena, causing my sister to scream and wail at the loss of two people she loves, as she begins to sink into a deep depression (not unlike Mother, when she lost Daddy) until she turns to suicide to escape the pain.

The knock on the door yanks me out of sleep in a cold sweat. Sunlight is streaming through the curtains in front of my window.

"Primrose, dear! Time to get up! Today is a big, big, big day!" Effie chirps through the varnished wood.

I groan and flop my head down into the pillow before slowly dragging myself out of bed and into the shower. I press buttons and turn levers haphazardly, letting all of the Capitol's lotions and water settings wash over me and soak me through.

Breakfast is as silent as a tomb and with the somberness of a funeral. Peeta's and my funeral, which may come within the hour, as I look at the clock slowly ticking along. I shovel in as much food as I can; it is a wonder that my nerves don't throw any of it back up.

Peeta and I steal a few glances at each other. He says that he will protect me in the arena, and I believe him. But in the confusion of the Opening Bloodbath, how are we going to find each other, much less get away? No one can predict where they will be oriented on the pedestals around the Cornucopia, much less what environment we'll even be launched into.

As we're walking to the elevators, Peeta leans in and whispers to me, "I'll find you. I promise. When the gong sounds, I want you to run. OK?"

"OK," I whisper. We emerge out into the sunlight on the roof of the Training Center. Peeta turns to Haymitch while Effie is giving me a hug farewell.

"Any last advice?"

"Stay alive," Haymitch quips grimly in reply. He and Peeta shake hands, our mentor stepping in close to whisper something in his ear. Then he turns and shakes my hand.

"Run, Find water. The rest will follow."

It's probably the most earnest advice he's giving me since my great Training Score upended his mentoring style, and I nod in appreciation.

Peeta and I enter the hovercraft. It will take multiple planes to shuttle all the tributes to the arena, as I only see a few others strapped in their seats with us. As I hold out my arm so they can insert my tracker, I happen to glance down the belly of the craft to see Cato, hunched over. Our eyes meet, and he gives me a truly feral sneer. I avert my eyes quickly.

I can't possibly measure how long the flight is, though it doesn't seem to be very long at all. Once we land, we are escorted off the plane and hustled into catacombs deep underground. I am separated from Peeta so fast, I don't even have time to wish him luck, and I am suddenly in a small holding cell, where Cinna is waiting for me. Draped over one chair is the outfit I will be wearing into the arena, and I suit up, Cinna circling me in inspection.

"There's heated lining in these jackets," he helpfully tells me, tugging out the cloth and running it through his fingers so I can see. "They're built like windbreakers, so I would expect some cool nights."

If I ever see another night, I think hopelessly. When an automated voice gives 30 seconds to launch, I feel myself begin to shake.

Dear Cinna takes me in his arms and squeezes me. "Keep a level head," he tells me. "Stylists are not allowed to bet, but if I could, it would be on you. You didn't tie for the highest training score with a couple of Twos for absolutely no reason. I think you can win, Prim."

"Do you really mean that?" my eyes shine, moist.

"Scout's honor!" A glass tube opens behind us and I slowly step into it.

"Good luck, Volunteer," my stylist says at my back. Then the glass tube is closing behind me with a hiss, sealing me in, cutting off all sound. I spin around frantically, but Cinna only gives me a reassuring nod. Then I feel the platform beneath my feet beginning to push me up, up, up….

The glare of sunlight blinds me for a few moments, and squinting, blinking, I get my bearings.

The arena is set in a grassy plain, centered by the Cornucopia. Turning my head over my shoulder, I see a vast forest at my back, and can't help but smile. Katniss would have been right at home here. In the distance to the west, is a wheat field, and to the east is what appears to be possibly a meadow. I take it as a good omen.

Tributes are only given 60 seconds to get their bearings before the gong sounds. If you move at any time before that, landmines are rigged under your pedestal to blow you to bits. I've seen it happen a time or two, usually by tributes who have given up hope and decide suiciding out on their own terms is quicker and preferable.

I make a quick sweep of who is next to me. The girl from 6 and the boy from 8 flank me on either side, but just beyond the girl to my left is Glimmer.

There he is! Three pedestals down from my right, Peeta and I lock eyes. He gives me an infinitesimal shake of his head, then darts his eyes back once to the trees. I get the message: run for the woods. Four more beyond Peeta, I can see Cato dropping into a crouch, an eager glint in his eye. Almost directly opposite him at the other side of the semi-circle is the big, black boy from 11, Thresh.

And there's the gong! I immediately turn tail and race for the trees. It isn't even thirty seconds before I hear the cries and screams of battle. If Peeta is going into the thicket of it, I hope he gets back out alive. I don't think my sister could stand the heartbreak….

I am probably three paces away from the treeline when I feel a whistle coming in fast and hard towards me. I fling myself to the dirt and hit the deck, watching as a knife blade slices into the grass maybe eighteen inches from my nose. There is a roar of frustration and I leap back to my feet, snatching the weapon up and disappearing into the trees. I chance a glance back once to see the petite girl from 2, Clove, about a hundred yards away and attempting to give chase. I will my legs to go faster, keeping in one direction. I'm almost tempted to start weaving in and out, in case Clove is braving the woods and I have to lose her, but something at the back of my mind tells me not to.

Everything was so chaotic, I didn't really have time to show fear of entering the woods all by myself. Katty goes into the woods just beyond District 12 all the time, but I've only been in there maybe twice. The first was when I was really little, and Mother and Daddy all took us to a hidden lake in the woods, where I learned to swim. It's one of my earliest memories. The only other time I entered the woods before now was when I was 8. Daddy had been gone less than a year, and Katniss thought it would be a good idea to teach me how to hunt. I managed to kill a squirrel and ended up crying for a straight week. That was the end of my hunting career.

Except I'm now in the Hunger Games, where it is hunt or be hunted. On second thought, maybe volunteering for this wasn't such a good idea after all.

My muscles are burning, my heart is pounding and demanding a rest. I finally lean myself against a large trunk, panting.

I suppose I should start foraging for nuts and berries; I know which ones are safe to eat. I turn over the knife in my hands – the one thing I have to show for the Cornucopia bloodbath and that was by accident. But, if something comes my way, like an animal, I guess I'll have to grit my teeth and gut it for meat.

I hear a twig snap from somewhere nearby, and I tense, thrusting the knife out, eyes darting about wildly. I try to track from what direction the sound came from, but suddenly….

Arms wrap around me and a hand claps over my mouth before I can scream. I struggle viciously, whimpering when I feel my attacker's free hand grip my wrist and twist the knife out of my grasp.

"Prim, shut up! It's me!" A familiar voice hisses in my ear.

I twist and throw my arms around his middle. "Peeta!" I can't believe it. He actually made it out! "How…. how did you find me?"

"A little bit of intuition, maybe. I kept track of where each of us started, and as I was on my way back out, I reached your pedestal again and just kept going straight. Lucky for us you maintained only one direction."

So he got in an out of the Bloodbath. I can't remember the last time a District 12 tribute has managed that, never mind both. Stepping out of his arms, I study him.

His windbreaker jacket is dotted with specks of blood. There is a spear in one hand, and a sword in the other, the latter of which is also dripping blood. I turn pale. He's killed someone already. A bright orange backpack is across his shoulders.

"I don't know what's in it," Peeta explains, seeing me peering over his shoulder at the bag of supplies. "Didn't exactly have time to examine our booty."

A sudden blast splits the air, the first in a series. Peeta's mouth sets grimly. "The Bloodbath is over." With that, he begins pushing me towards the tree I came to rest against. "Do you know how to climb?"

"Yeah. My sister taught me how. But what about you?" I don't dare voice how he didn't do so well on the climbing ropes in the Training Center, but I don't have to; Peeta appears to be thinking back to the same thing.

Thinking fast, Peeta spots the belt loops on our trousers and gets an idea. He reaches for the hem lining of my jacket, while simultaneously flipping his spear upside down.

"What are you doing?"

"Just hold still, all right?" When he steps back, I can see he has lashed the hem of my jacket into my belt loops, threading the blunt end of the spear through it and making a knot. In the interim, the cannons stop firing.

"Did you keep count? How many?"

"Thirteen," I state.

Peeta nods. "Good. Half gone, or thereabouts. The Careers aren't going to wait long to start hunting the survivors." He wraps his hands around the shaft of the spear, careful to keep his hands just below the pointed tip, and gives a jerk of his head. "Start climbing."

So I do. I climb up the whole tree using the tricks that Katniss taught me, all while hoisting my district partner behind me. I reach the highest branch we possibly can and crawl onto it; dangling a few feet below me, Peeta carefully shimmies up the staff of his spear, lunges and grabs the branch himself before swinging himself up. I untie the spear from my belt and pass it to him. He grins.

"Now: let's see what else we have, shall we?" Then, for the first time, he notices the knife in my hands and blinks.

"Pardon me for being slow on the uptake, but how did you get that?"

"I was almost at the trees when I sensed something coming towards me. I ducked and this landed in the dirt nearby. Grabbed it and took it with me. I don't think Clove pursued me any further."

Most of the blood drains from Peeta's face. "You were really lucky then. Keep that close." Then he begins going through the backpack.

A coil of wire. A pack of crackers. A pack of dried beef strips. A bottle of iodine. A box of wooden matches. A strange pair of funny-looking goggles. My face lights up when Peeta pulls out the black water bottle and unscrews the cap. Then, weighing it in his palm, he shakes it and frowns. Empty. The final item is a large black sleeping bag.

"We don't have to share it. You can take it. I wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable." A blush is creeping up on his neck, and I smirk, though I nonetheless appreciate his chivalry.

"Of course not. Besides, I'm sure there's someone else you'd rather share a sleeping bag with." I give him a wink, and if it were possible, Peeta turns even further red. Our banter is natural, easy, which almost makes me forget that we're no doubt playing to cameras somewhere. And if we are getting coverage, I've now just let all of Panem know that I know who Peeta's mysterious crush is; the audience will be dying to hear more clues. I don't intend to give them any. Peeta's secret is safe with me. And if Katniss were to learn that her crush actually returned her feelings, I think she would die of shame. Or happiness. Or agony. Or a combination of all three.

Peeta is turning the empty water bottle over in his hands. "I saw a lake a kilometer or two off the plain as I was making my escape, but it's on the other side of the Cornucopia. If the Careers have taken control of the horn, they probably have a monopoly on that body of water too."

I open the packet of crackers and also the one containing the beef jerky strips. Breaking both into smaller pieces, I pass a clump into Peeta's palm. "Well, if you think they're gonna go hunting, that could take them far afield. We could always circle back and sneak to the lake to fill the canteen."

"Unless they leave a guard," Peeta mutters. "My money would be on Marvel. He's not good for much else."

I giggle. My ally and I continue to share some of the crackers and jerky for lunch, then make a similar meal of it for our dinner as the sun begins to set and the shadows of the trees grow longer.

There is a sudden blast of sound as the anthem of Panem begins to play. Through a break in the canopy, Peeta and I watch as the faces of the first dozen tributes appear in the sky.

The first to be projected is the girl from 3. Then both from 4 – I guess Cato really didn't have any use for them, and for that I'm relieved. A smaller Career pack might be easier to deal with. The boy from 5…. I guess the redheaded girl made it. Both from 6 and 7. The boy from 8, who started the Games on the pedestal next to me. In the increasing moonlight, I see Peeta's eyes dim with something that seems like shame.

"You killed him, didn't you?"

He nods glumly. "He was in my way as I was going for a backpack. Then I had to fight over the backpack with the boy from 9. I…. killed him too."

And indeed, as I watch, not only does the girl from 8 also appear in the sky, but both from 9 as well. The girl from 10 is the last face of the day.

"Thresh and Rue both made it," Peeta sounds relieved. "Wait…. did that guy from 10 with the bad leg seriously survive the Bloodbath?"

All at once, there is the sound of crashing through the underbrush, followed by whooping and hollering. Looking at each other, Peeta and I huddle up back along our branch until we're braced against the trunk of the tree. My district partner seems to be fiddling with something from the backpack.

"What are you doing?" I hiss.

Peeta opens his palm to reveal the coil of wire. "I'm going to tie us to the tree. We can't fall. Not now." Making a large loop, he has just enough slack to tie it off, lashing us to not only the trunk, but the underbelly of our branch as well. He double-knots it, just to be safe.

"Do you think anyone else left can climb trees?" I whisper.

"I guess we'll find out… Sssh!" Peeta holds a finger to his lips, and as I watch in horror, torchlights bob into view, illuminating a flash of coiffed, golden hair.

It's Cato and his fellow Careers.

They're hooting and hollering. Marvel is doing something weird with his face, spazzing like he's having a seizure before alternately breaking up into fits of laughter. He must be mocking someone's particularly gruesome death, and the four others copy him like seals.

Wait…. four others. I make a mental head count. There are five tributes beneath us… District 1… District 2….. Who's the fifth?

"Hey, Peg-Leg, you sure he went this way?"

"Yeah," the boy from District 10, nods feverishly, pointing further into the trees. "I saw him split off this way. He was maintaining direction." There is a blade in his hand, uniquely shaped, and I think I remember one of the trainers referring to it as a dirk.

Next to me, Peeta is tense, and looking like he wants to curse himself in a hundred different forbidden languages. 'They followed me!' his lips mouth silently.

"I hope you're right…" Cato mutters. "Go help Clove and Marvel scout ahead."

Peg-Leg steps out of sight, leaving only Cato and Glimmer in our view. Glimmer sidles up to the muscular boy, running a hand down his bicep. "Are you sure we shouldn't just kill the cripple now?"

"Nah…" Cato laughs. "He's our best chance of finding Lover Boy. And if we find him, we find the Shrimp."

Glimmer frowns. "We better."

Peg-Leg comes back, accompanied by Marvel. "There are footprints up ahead! They go on for a while!"

Peeta and I share another horrified look. If any of the Careers look down at their feet…. They might see that there are multiple footprint tracks –

And that at least two of them stop right about where they are standing…

However, there is clearly a third set of footprints up ahead. Whose they belong to, I don't know, but if the Careers follow that, those tracks just might save my life and Peeta's.

Cato nods, a hard set to his jaw. "Good. Thanks a lot, Peg-Leg." Then, quite abruptly, he runs the poor crippled boy through with his sword.

I open my mouth to scream and Peeta claps a hand over my lips, blocking me from making a sound.

The boy from 10 keels over, body twitching for a moment or two before lying still. BOOM. The cannon fires.

Glimmer looks surprised and confused, though not necessarily unhappy. Cato shrugs.

"What? I changed my mind. We've got the tracks; we have what we need." Snapping his fingers, he directs Marvel to follow him and they vanish from our sightline. Glimmer annoyingly stays where she is for a moment.

"Sure…" she mumbles under her breath. "Until the tracks run out…." She finally moves on.

We must wait about five more minutes, neither of us daring to make a sound. At last, Peeta breathes:

"They're gone."

Shivering, we both peer over the branch down at the corpse of the boy from 10. Even in the gloom, we can tell –

"No backpack, so nothing of value we can take off of him."

Even if there had been anything to salvage, we probably wouldn't have had time to risk scaling down the tree to retrieve it, then climb back up. The wind picks up through the leaves and we can hear the rotors of a hovercraft churning far above. A claw suddenly dips down into sight and scoops up the boy from 10, carrying him away.

Fourteen dead, and we haven't even been here half a day. Ten left to play. Four of them are Careers, which leaves six outliers, including this brave young man by my side and me.

"I can tell you one thing: they probably haven't left a guard back near the lake. We could try and circle back in the morning."

It's as good a plan as any, and I nod. "For now, let's go to sleep."

We briefly untie ourselves from the bark so that I can snuggle down into the sleeping bag. Then Peeta re-anchors us. Curling into his side, I fall into my first uneasy sleep in the arena.

Lying in Peeta's arms like this, I have to imagine my sister is terribly jealous. Hell, Rory probably is too.