Chapter 14: Victor of Victors

Prim's POV

The moment the tribute pedestals click into place, I am ever so grateful that Mother and Katty taught me how to swim. Heck, I'm proud of myself that we Everdeens thought to teach Haymitch and Peeta how to swim.

We are launched adrift in what looks like a miniature sea. There's the Cornucopia, about a hundred yards away, the yawning mouth of the horn gaping right at me. It appears that the only way to get to the supplies is to swim for it.

Well, that's not exactly true. As I make a quick sweep with my eyes, I can see rocky spokes jutting out at what seem to be consistent intervals, stretching like tendrils until they connect with sand bars of beach and a jungle beyond at my back. It's a damn sight different than the arboreal arena Peeta and I were thrust into. My pedestal is closest to a rocky spoke if I look to my left; just over it, I can see Brutus, the giant forty-something man from 2 glancing about this way and that. One pedestal beyond him, Matthias Fletcher, a drunk from 5 who I know to be one of Haymitch's particular friends, is stepping to the edge of his plate, peering over at the waves lapping against the metal.

Haymitch! I continue to sweep my eyes about frantically, straining them farther beyond Matthias and Brutus to see if I can catch a glimpse of my district partner. I hope he's emotionally right in the head, though I can't say I could blame him if he wasn't. The man has stayed admirably sober despite the Capitol's temptations of excess, though as a Healer's daughter, I can detect the withdrawal signs from a mile away. Haymitch has had a bad case of the shakes as of late, and though they have lessened since he was placed on forced withdrawal the day after the Reading of the Card, they have not quite abated.

Where are you….. Where are you?! Thanks to the glare of the sun, distance and the ringing around the Cornucopia, I can't make much out of which Victors are where beyond Brutus and Matthias's watery wedge. Starting at my right side, I can see the blonde curls of Cashmere, then the rocks of another spoke on the opposite side behind her.

That's it, then. The tributes are trapped together in pairs inside the watery wedges the spokes create. So, if there are 24 tributes, that must mean there are a dozen spokes one could traverse to get to the horn. I have no doubt some, if not many, of the Victors will try to get to the supplies by racing the spokes. I judge that if you took a flying leap, you can land on the spoke nearest you without even getting wet. More than a few are likely to try that if they want to make what is known as The Run. The alternative is swimming for your life, and really, outside of me and now Haymitch, how many of the Victors can honestly say they even know how to swim? Depending on the answer, this Quell could end very, very quickly and too, too cleanly.

"5… 4….. 3…. 2…. 1….." The gong sounds. I take a deep breath and will myself to be a player, before I swan dive into the water. I immediately curve at a diagonal, slapping the waves, petrified that Cashmere has moved off her plate and will be trying to overtake me for a quick drowning. I haul myself, dripping wet, onto the spoke without incident, but a quick glance back and I realize Brutus is only a few movements behind me. Leaping to my feet, I break into a sprint, beginning The Run.

Being a freakishly huge man, Brutus could overtake me and turn me into mincemeat if he really wanted to, but he hangs back. I will myself to move faster, remembering all the wind sprints and five-mile jogs Peeta would take us through across the district.

I didn't make The Run last year, which probably ended up saving my life, but now, I have no choice. I need a weapon, and I don't expect any of the Victors to act as foolishly as Clove did and give one away to me. Which means I have to make it in and out of there first, find Haymitch, and…..

On the next spoke over, I can see a well-built man trying to make pace with me. It might be Gloss, the man from 1 who triumphed the year after I was born. His legs being longer than mine, he'll beat me there easily, so I push myself harder until my legs are burning, my heart is pounding.

Even going as hard as I can, Gloss and I are still neck-and-neck. Then, he makes a mistake. By sheer luck, he trips on a rock and falls to the spoke with a cry and a grunt. I am able to win the race by default and make the island. I arm myself with knives, and a bow, just in case. Katniss taught me how to use one much more competently than the one or two times I tried it in the arena last year.

I spin as a shift in the air currents alerts me, and I stretch a knife-filled arm back, poised to throw.

Finnick Odair is less than a foot from me, a devilish grin on his face and a trident already resting on his arm. The prongs stretch down like they're extra fingers, deadly extensions of his reach.

I can't possibly hope to fling a knife faster than it takes Finnick to spear me through. And even if I were accurate, a knife is far easier to dodge than a trident, especially from such close range. I think of Rory, and his kisses, to give me strength in what are surely my final moments.

But Finnick doesn't move, and neither do I.

"Good thing we're allies, right?"

And that's when I see it: Daddy's green handkerchief. Katty's handkerchief…. For the past year, Peeta has faithfully worn it like a talisman. So how did Finnick get it? Did he steal it? Surely Peeta wouldn't part from a reminder of my sister so willingly!

"Where did you get that?" I demand.

"Where do you think?" Finnick's voice has an edge to it. Then his wolfish smile drops faster than a curtain.

"DUCK!"

I do, my mind flashing back to all the times Katty's called me 'Little Duck.' I hear a whistle, a thud, and a grunt. Snapping my head back, I stare, horror-struck, at the body of Matthias Fletcher, the man from 5. How did he even make it to shore?

BOOM. The first cannon of the Quell sounds.

Finnick yanks the trident out, and I wince at the tear of flesh.

"Don't trust One and Two. I'll take this side, you…. hold them off. I'll go find…. HAY -!"

The first syllable of my district partner's name flows seamlessly into a cry of indignation as both Gloss Delacroix and Roan Tully, the violent man from 10, try to ambush my…. I guess he's my ally. The former cowhand is able to engage Finnick's attention, but Gloss overshoots as he's sent stumbling past the District 4 pretty boy. Spotting me as I attempt to back up around the horn, the Career switches targets.

I fling the knife in my hand originally meant for Finnick desperately; Gloss swats it aside with his bare palm like it's a fly. My boot gets stuck in a crevice and I stumble, falling back with a yelp. I try to scramble up fast – if I stay on the ground, I die. I learned that lesson well enough from Clove last year – but Gloss pins me with his own boot.

"Nowhere to run now, little girl…." He sharpens a knife of his own on a piece of flint he must have uncovered when he fell on that spoke. I close my eyes, picturing Katniss's smoky eyes brightening whenever Peeta says something to make her smile. Rory, and the feel of his lips on mine…

A whistling sound through the air makes me open my eyes, in time to see a brown blur pistol-whip Gloss across the face, sending him tumbling away from me. Glancing up, I see a man with a handsome copper beard literally standing on the Cornucopia. Hefting a quarterstaff high above his head, he lets out a battle shriek that sounds like half-banshee, half demented baboon. Then the handsome guy legit back-flips off the horn and lands in a fierce crouch between me and Gloss.

I stare at my rescuer in disbelief. He might be Johanna's district partner, though I don't know much beyond his name: Blight. And the fact that he's a rough peer of Haymitch.

Blight twirls the quarterstaff around his body like a baton, like it has been magically welded to his arm and has always naturally been there. He levels it at Gloss, hissing menacingly.

I have a vague memory from when I was small, just starting school. Katniss had reached Upper School by then, and had to rent out a copy of a Hunger Games to watch as an assignment for her Hunger Games history class. The 52nd, I believe. Blight used a quarterstaff then too, carrying himself like one of the heroes in that old bedtime story Katniss used to read to me: Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Though if this man is taking himself after Little John, he is anything but merry.

It's a credit to Blight's fighting ability that even a Career like Gloss seems weary to battle him. "Stay out of this, tree-elf. This ain't your Game."

"Och, aye? Ain't it now? You should know better than to pick on little girls, Delacroix!"

Something comes at us fast from the right, and Blight spins. Where she was probably hoping to take a bite out of his neck, Enobaria Malachite instead ends up getting a mouthful of wood. Blight pirouettes with almost a ballerina's grace, spinning Enobaria with his staff and using the centrifugal force to fling her into the horn. Dancing back, he uses the staff to block a knife Gloss chucked at his head. The Career bellows.

"Let's dance, faggot!"

"Spite tree elves everywhere, would ya? Take THAT!" And Blight wallops Gloss across the face so hard, the latter has to spit out a bloody tooth. "Who's the fag now?!"

Another knife comes sailing at Gloss right on the heels of a cannon firing, and the man from 1 leaps back, growling. A man with unkempt blonde hair is charging at us, and I deflate in relief. Haymitch….

"ABERNATHY!" Blight hollers, bringing his staff up as Gloss kick-flips a broadsword into his palm and tries an overhead strike. "Take the little bairn and GO!" He bravely drives Gloss back, towards where I can see Roan Tully's sprawled and still form. The Career is now frothing, screaming for his sister and Brutus, who are no doubt close by.

Haymitch lifts me into his arms as though I weigh nothing, holding me against his chest. "Come on, kid….." And he pelts for the nearest spoke, where I can see Finnick and an old lady hollering us on. I bounce against Haymitch as we run, looking over his shoulder to see the other Careers and a couple of outliers joining the fray. A knocked-out Enobaria comes to and shakily stands to her feet. Seeing us retreating, she throws out a knife desperately.

The toss goes high, it won't land anywhere near Haymitch's skull. Still, reaching, I strain up and manage to pluck the knife out of the air. Enobaria gives a shriek of rage, but doesn't pursue us as we arrive at Finnick and his district partner, Mags. Our quartet runs into the jungle away from the Cornucopia.

Mags, the old lady who I learned won the 11th Games, is being carried like me, slung across Finnick's back. Huffing and puffing, Haymitch gamely keeps up with the younger man until Finnick calls for a rest.

"Ladies…. Rest up."

"What chivalry!" I joke. Finnick merely sends me a smoldering smile and I have to resist from swooning into a dead faint. Oh gods, Rory must be fit to be tied.

Mags beckons to me with a gummy smile. She clearly had a stroke some years back, for even in Training I couldn't make out what she was saying. She runs a gnarled finger through my long, blonde hair, then holds up a fishing hook.

"You want to braid it?" She nods. I grin. "Thanks." As she sets to work, I have to wonder if this is what it's like to have a grandmother. Katniss and I never knew our grandparents; they had all passed by the time I was born.

A few steps off, I can hear low discussions from Finnick and Haymitch.

"We have to get water, fast!"

"Just water? You look like you could use a stiff one, Abernathy…"

"Not the time for jokes, Finnick! At this point, I'll drink my own piss…"

Chancing glances at Haymitch, I can see the flop-sweat on his face. He's exhausted – not that we all are, but he more than most. And the withdrawal symptoms are likely only exacerbating the dehydration he feels. We'll need to find something fast, or we'll all drop.

Finnick volunteers to scout the surrounding area for fresh bodies of water. I quickly dismiss the thought of sneaking back to the sea as soon as I think it, for that would only be salt-water – warm and would only parch us faster. Haymitch practices flinging a set of knives he got from the Cornucopia at a nearby tree. He hits more than he misses, so at least his aim is improving.

"Did you see anything else in the horn? Backpacks? I was…. preoccupied," I grin sheepishly.

"Nothing but weapons!" Haymitch gruffs, shooting me an admonishing glare. "I had to carve up Tully like a fish just to get to you! You're lucky Blight Gavin was there, Little One – what the hell were you thinking?!"

I can feel Mags cringing at my back, and I frown. "I didn't ask the Careers to go for me!" Behind me, I hear Mags mumble something that might have been 'Consider it a compliment.' – it's the most complete sentence I've been able to discern from her.

"Haymitch…. don't get mad at me. I know you're trying to protect me…."

"Damn right – that's exactly what I'm trying to do!"

"…. But I've been through this once before. I killed two Careers in my last Games, remember?" I feel an odd pang as I think of Marvel and Cato. A pause, and then I smile at my mentor. "Mother appreciates what you're trying to do for me."

I can see the blush creeping up his neck, and my smile broadens. In the interim, Finnick comes back, winded. Even more terrible, that cool and collected façade of his is beginning to crack.

"Nothing," he pants. "Not even so much as a babbling brook. What does Plutarch and his band of tech geeks mean for us to do? Drop from heatstroke?"

As if on cue, we hear the tinkling chimes of a parachute floating down towards us. A sponsor gift! The thing wedges in a branch about fifteen feet up.

"Finnick, give me a boost!"

He lifts me up into the trees, and I try not to squeal at how Finnick Odair is holding me. All the girls in my class are going to be so jealous! I manage to pluck the parachute down and unwrap it, extracting a little metal tube.

"What is it?" Finnick frowns, passing it from hand to hand.

"From The Boy. That's all I can tell," Haymitch states the obvious as he examines an accompanying note in Peeta's loopy cursive. A soft smile graces his face. "He's getting the hang of this…"

"Wait!" I cry, beckoning for the tube back. "I remember something from my sister about one of these….. It's a spile! It can tap water from the trees! And other things as well, in the wintertime - maple syrup, for example…"

Haymitch licks his lips. "Syrup…."

"Well, we'd better drain it fast," Finnick eyes Haymitch warily. "Do you know how to use it, Prim?"

I nod. "Give me a rock."

Mags finds one, and I march over to one trunk. I manage to drive the spile into the bark without breaking the tool, then wait for a few, agonizing seconds.

At last, water trickles out, hastening into a steady gush.

"Ladies first!" Finnick calls and I stand aside for Mags to take hearty gulps before I allow some for myself. Finnick nods to me approvingly, returning the favor by letting Haymitch go after me. The District 4 pretty boy guzzles his fill last of all.

The sun is beginning to set, and then we hear more cannons on the air. "Six," I count carefully.

"Plus two more blasts from the fights we were involved in. That's eight," Finnick sounds almost sad. I wonder if he regrets spearing Matthias Fletcher like that. He glances to me and Mags. "You girls get some sleep. I'll take first watch. Abernathy: cycle off in two."

"Aye-aye, captain," Haymitch mumbles.

We're too drowsy to argue, and curling up next to the weathered bones of Mags Flanagan, I fall asleep faster than I would have figured.

I'm awakened just as quickly at what I judge to be several hours later, this time by a scream.

"RUN! RUN! The fog is poison!" I feel hands grab me, and survival instincts compel to try and weakly fight them off, but I soon don't feel the ground underneath me, as my body is propelled through space at an almost unnatural speed.

Blinking rapidly, I can see that I am now cradled against Finnick's chest. Over his shoulder, I meet Mags' wide eyes, and I can tell she is scared. I can only imagine her fear: running from mutt dangers is close to old hat for me, whereas Mags has been out of the arena for nearly two-thirds of a decade. In a way, she is reliving the nightmare, long dormant. Not for the first time, I'm actually kind of glad I won only last year.

Despite carrying a teenager and a little old lady, Finnick keeps remarkable pace; he doesn't even appear winded. The real strain is in his voice, his tone laced with fear as he bellows over his shoulder for Haymitch to keep up with him. If we are indeed running from a poisonous fog, I hope the shakes won't impede Haymitch's own speed. I won't leave him behind. I won't!

We manage to make good time and distance, but after a time, I hear Haymitch give a bellow of what sounds like pain. It makes Finnick scared enough that it forces him to double back, screaming angrily at Haymitch that he has to try harder. But from what I can now see, Haymitch can't try any harder. Compounded on top of his withdrawal symptoms, his muscles now seem to be acting funny, so that he vacillates from shaking even more uncontrollably to his muscles locking up so that he can't even give into the shakes at all.

"I'm not dragging you, you SON-OF-A-BITCH!" Finnick bellows, only to then proceed and do exactly that, while still cradling me in only one arm and with Mags still across his shoulders.

It's a remarkable feat of physical prowess, and out of all of us in the arena, I feel only Finnick could be the one to pull off carrying three other tributes at once in various stages. I can't help but admire his bravery; for the first time, I thought he was going to leave Haymitch to his fate. Even going as hard as he can, however, taking on Haymitch has slowed Finnick considerably, and the fog is gaining. This is how we're going to die. What a horrible way to go.

"AHHHH!" Finnick cries out, and then gravity leaves us all, as we tumble over the edge of a steep embankment. I plummet into the gloom, bouncing heavily on the jungle earth and landing hard beside my friends. The fog just keeps coming.

Finnick is struggling to his feet, trying to gather us up again. "I can't do it. I'm sorry, Haymitch, I can't do it…."

It happens so fast, I almost miss it. Mags suddenly kisses Finnick deeply, then turns to walk straight into the fog with her head held high.

"Mags?… Mags!... MAGS!" The cannon fires. Now it's my turn to drag Finnick along, Haymitch stumbling after us. We only get a few feet; any moment, the fog is going to come down on top of us.

It turns out a few feet is just enough.

The fog suddenly billows up, as if running into an invisible wall, beyond which it can't follow us.

I look at the men, who are spasming dangerously, and I realize what that trap was about: toxins. Miners can and have often absorbed dangerous gases into their bodies when working down in the shafts. Mother taught me how to treat it.

Except the most effective form of treatment involves the thing we are in least supply of: water. But I'm prepared to cut into as many trunks as it takes with the spile to help my allies.

By sheer luck, I don't have to.

The moonlight casts its glow on what looks like a small pond nearby. I beckon the men to it, and Finnick sinks into the shallow pool with a groan of relief. I have to more or less push Haymitch in, who comes up coughing and spluttering, even screaming a little, as the painful purge begins. Pretty soon, however, he appears better, and even volunteers to ready the spile into a new tree.

I don't notice them above us at first. But Finnick does and quietly alerts me. They're orange and furry, about the size of a stray dog. A creature I've only read about in books.

"Haymitch," I keep my voice deliberately calm. "Walk over here slowly. Don't look up."

"Why?" I want to kick myself. Of course, when you tell someone not to look up, chances are they still will out of curiosity.

Haymitch's curiosity is what causes all hell to break loose.

The monkeys, as they are called, attack in a pack. Haymitch, Finnick and I quickly form a crude posse ring, my mentor and I stabbing with our knives, Finnick spearing with his trident.

A monkey comes right for me, and I launch a knife, which it dodges in mid-air. I don't even have time to picture Rory in my last moments when –

A dark shadow passes over me, splaying its arms wide and seems to embrace the monkey. Blood gurgles from the bite wound in the figure's neck, and she shoves the monkey away before falling.

"It's Maeve! Prim, help me get her and come on! I can see the beach!" It takes both of us to pick her up between us, but Haymitch and I make our retreat with the woman from 6. Finnick follows, springing like a gazelle until we're beyond the treeline. Like the fog, the monkeys don't follow, melting back into the foliage.

The sun is just beginning to rise as Haymitch and I lower Maeve's dying form into the surf. She is gasping and wheezing, and I find myself starting to hum the Meadow Song as she peacefully expires in my arms. We set her body adrift in the tide, and the hovercraft comes to collect it.

I wipe away tears. "She sacrificed herself for me, and I didn't even know her name, until you told me."

Haymitch is giving me an oddly unreadable look. "You think she sacrificed herself for you?"

"It seemed that way," I shrug.

Finnick staggers over to us. "I thought I heard a third cannon. When we were running from the fog….." His voice trails off as he spots something in the distance off to his right. "Get behind me!"

We all press against the treeline, watching three blood-red figures approach. They're each carrying something; from the long and matted hair, one of them looks to be a woman. Finnick's sea-green eyes go huge.

"Johanna? JOHANNA!"

"Finnick!" The blood-red woman from 7 runs into his arms and gives him to biggest, wettest kiss on the mouth. "Oh, Seven be praised!"

Finnick laughs, even while blinking at the exuberant welcome, glancing over Johanna's shoulders to one of her companions. "Want to get in line, Blight?"

"I'm spoken for, laddie, thank ye, though the thought is tempting."

"So am I!" Finnick chuckles, and Johanna flushes pink, embarrassed, moving hurriedly to step out of the embrace. I didn't know Finnick had a girlfriend. I would even want to ask him, if I didn't see the third piece in this little trio staggering near me. He's cradling what looks to be a coil of wire in his hands, and I brace myself against him to keep him from tumbling the rest of the way into the sand. Once I get a good look at him, I recognize him: it's Beetee, the man from 3. He's got to be well older than my mother.

"Well…. I got them out….. we eluded the Careers into the jungle where I thought it was going to be safe – that's when the rain started," Johanna is ranting to Finnick. "I thought it was water? It turned out to be blood! We were stumbling around, gagging on it, blind! That's when Nuts hit the forcefield…"

"Nuts?"

"My district partner. Wiress," Beetee huffs.

I can hear Finnick cursing with grief. "Now what?"

"We have Volts, don't we?" Johanna shrugs. Evidently, the demise of Wiress doesn't seem to bother her.

Finnick is quiet for a long moment. "Does he have that wire?"

Johanna scowls. "Took a knife in the back from Enobaria to get it. Blight saved his ass."

"Cause that's the way the tree elves do it. Well done, mate. Good show," Finnick claps Blight on the back, who smiles tiredly.

Our two trios merge without any real discussion. By mid-morning, we hear another cannon; just beyond a crashing wave, I see the hovercraft pluck an unidentifiable body from the tree canopies. Twelve down….

Six of us here in this large alliance. Likely all four Careers still out there. Plus, one or two stragglers. I look to the Cornucopia in the short distance, which appears oddly deserted. Behind me, I hear Finnick, Haymitch, Blight and Beetee huddling together.

"She figured it out and told me before the blood rain came: it's a clock. A new danger likely every hour, but it only stays within a certain range and only within the jungle."

"Well, that's the best news I've heard all damn day and yesterday!" Haymitch huffs.

Johanna wants to go to the horn and scope it out. Although I'm wary, I follow, not wanting to cross the only female Victor from 7. She can't be that much older than my sister, but I remember watching her Games when I was small: she is deadly.

The Careers are nowhere to be seen when we arrive and we pick over the weapons, stocking up. Blight sits in the tide to wash the blood off himself. Haymitch is drawing a crude diagram in the sand, trying to map the arena and its clock dangers. He gets about half of them marked.

"Well, it's a lot more than we knew before anyhow."

The sound of Blight choking is all that saves us.

Gloss is just finishing drawing the blade across his throat in the same moment that the knife is leaving my hand. It gets the Career in the neck, and he tumbles into the water with a crash, taking Blight's body with him. Three more figures burst from the water; with an angry cry, Johanna shoves me behind her, and buries an axe into Cashmere's cleavage.

Brutus bellows as he makes right for Haymitch, Finnick getting in the way to engage. Johanna intercepts Enobaria from trying to finish the job with Beetee. I get one throw in, the knife grazing Enobaria's cheek enough to drive her back. She bares her teeth at me, hissing, before abruptly turning tail with Brutus and fleeing.

My allies and I are rounding the horn, giving chase, when the island itself starts to spin.

The centrifugal force takes us girls almost over the edge, while the men are forced low to the ground and hold fast to each other. Weapons are been flung out of the Cornucopia at a dizzying speed, and I barely dodge a few.

"Hold on!" Johanna wails. I grit my teeth and dig my nails into her hand to keep a grip.

At last, the spinning slams to a stop as quickly as it began and Johanna and I collapse to the rocks. Finnick rushes to help, but Johanna shrugs him off.

"Let's just get what we need and get off the bloody island."

We regroup at the beach, hearing another cannon in the interim. "We're at the Final Eight. So aside from us and District 2, the only other one left is….

"Chaff," Haymitch finishes, grinning in relief.

"I have a plan," Beetee gathers us around. "Brutus and Enobaria won't come back to the beach as long as we're here, but that doesn't mean they won't stay close by." He lifts a handful of sand and watches it sieve through his fingers. "This sand is still wet from that tidal wave that hits at 10 o'clock. And we know about the lightning tree at noon and midnight."

Right on schedule, a strike of plasma hits a tree in the far-off distance.

"So here's what I propose: between the wave at 10:00, but before the midnight lightning, we run this wire down from the lightning tree to here, on the damp beach. Anyone in the vicinity when the lightning hits will be electrocuted… and failing that, the seafood in the water will be rendered useless as a food source. I can see no downside."

Neither can I, but that doesn't mean that Johanna refrains from mocking the plan. When put to a vote, though, she is overruled, and she grudgingly admits aspects of it have merit.

Just then, I hear a scream that makes the blood freeze in my veins. "KATTY!"

I take off after the voice of my sister, Finnick charging after me and hollering at me to stop. By the time he catches up to me, I have come to realize that a bird is yelling like my big sister and I manage to bring it down with an arrow – the first time so far that I've used the bow in this arena.

"Prim don't run off…"

"FINNICK!"

Now it's Finnick's turn to go white as a sheet. "Annie? ….. ANNIE! ANNIE!"

"Finnick, stop! It isn't real!" And I have to shoot down another jabberjay and thrust it under his nose to get him to believe me.

More screams keep coming. Rory, Mother, Peeta. When Finnick and I try to outrun it, we run into an invisible wall, cut off from our allies, and have no choice but to curl into the fetal position and cover our ears until the hour is up.

At last, I feel Haymitch drag me into his lap and I clutch to him like a lifeline.

"Peeta is OK. He's up in the Control Central. Your mom and your sister are all right. And no one will hurt you. I won't let them."

"The Walking Bar is right – this whole country adores you," Johanna scoffs, and despite her sarcastic tone, it sounds like a high compliment. "If you don't win this whole damn thing, Prim, forget the districts. There'd be riots in the Capitol." Quite unexpectedly, she throws back her head and screams:

"WHOLE COUNTRY IN REBELLION? WOULDN'T WANT ANYTHING LIKE THAT!"

The rest of us are gawping at her gall, but she just shrugs. "What? They can't hurt me. There's nobody left that I love."

All we can do is begin to prepare our trap for the Careers.

The execution of the plan near midnight goes wrong almost immediately.

Beetee is able to rig the lightning tree in relative peace, but as Johanna and I are unspooling the wire down to the beach, I feel it cut. Glancing back sharply, I barely have time to make out Brutus and Enobaria when I feel stars dot my vision as Johanna sends the hilt of her axe crashing into my skull.

My arm quickly joins in the fun of feeling as though it is on fire, and my woozy brain swears I hear Johanna hiss to me something that sounds like, "Stay down!" Then her weight is off of me, and I hear other footsteps pounding after her.

It seems an eternity before I manage to push myself up to my feet, head pounding. I feel something sticky flowing down along my cheek and my tongue darts out to taste the copper tang of blood.

A cannon makes me jump nearly foot in the air.

"PRIMROSE! PRIMROSE!" That's Haymitch's scream, and I don't think I've ever heard him sound so panicked.

I try to call back to my mentor, but no sound comes out as I stagger about, trying to feel my way in the dark back to the Lightning Tree.

Halfway up the hill, I hear another scream, born of frustration, followed by another cannon.

BOOM.

"PRIMROSE!" Haymitch again, crashing through the underbrush, though he's still at a distance and seems to be moving away from me.

"Hay…. Haymitch…." I croak, stumbling and falling. He's still alive. He's alive. And if I die, I really hope he can take the Quell crown for the second time running. Become the Victor of Victors and bring back my body. Maybe even marry my mother, if she'll have him. Take care of my family and make them happy. He and Peeta would do that…. Rory might be inconsolable at losing me, but he'll get on…..

I burst into the clearing to see Johanna and Enobaria taking swipes at each other, Finnick dancing on the periphery. It almost seems like he's trying to break it up, not join in. Off to our left, I can see Beetee's sprawled form smoking, lying chillingly still. Did someone throw him into the forcefield? Was he one of the cannons? If true, either Chaff or Brutus is still alive and close by.

"Baria, STOP!" Finnick drags the Career back. When she snarls and rounds on him, he has no choice but send her blade spinning out of her hand so he can seize her by the throat and launch her into the trunk of the Lightning Tree. There is a CRACK, and Enobaria slides all the way down in a crumpled heap, but nothing happens. No cannon.

Finnick is now frantically trying to wrap something around the prongs of his trident. The skies rumble ominously with thunder overhead.

"Oh for Snow's sake, you're taking all bloody day about it!" Johanna snatches the trident out of his hand and they grapple for it. I still stand there stupidly like a deaf-mute, but that doesn't stop Finnick from snapping his head up and seeing me for the first time.

"Primrose, get away from that tree!" Finnick dives to protect me. I hear a bellow behind me, and glance down the slope to see Haymitch sprinting harder than I have ever seen him.

Letting out a scream of rage, Johanna hurls the trident with all her might up towards the heavens, just as the lightning roars and sets the world on fire.

I am in and out of it several times after that. At one point, I think I wake up in a hovercraft, many people whispering overhead. Turning my head, I see a platform in one corner, which now glows and pixelates until a familiar crop of blonde hair appears, stumbling into an amorphous figure that talks like Haymitch.

"Ah, there's a lucky lad…."

I tilt my head back again, and there is Johanna's face swimming above me, screeching in fear.

"Prim? PRIM! Hold on! Hold on…"