Reap What We Sow Chapter 19: Eighteen: when ends meet, a hunger games fanfic

(a/n): *deep breath* This is it, guys. The last chapter for Ceres in the Hunger Games. More chapters to come after, of course...but oh boy. More to be said at the bottom. Enjoy!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

when ends meet

It feels weird abandoning so many gifts and supplies in the alcove, but we don't have much of a choice. Those countless weapons, food, supplies - everything - can't possibly be stashed into a singular backpack and upon our persons, least of all when we have three arms between us. Nellie takes it upon herself to attach an axe to her hip, as well as carry an impressive falcata sword that had reminded her of Birch. She pocketed a couple of knives into her belt and attached a quiver and bow to her back, for good measure. Food and water was kept stored in our backpack, along with the medical supplies we'd been gifted with. Meanwhile, I have my spear, fancy as it is, and I have attached some throwing knives to my belt. None of which feel as right as my rapala did, but it's gone now. It's buried deep into the eye socket of a hopefully dead crocodile.

When we leave it all behind, I wonder if any of the surviving Tributes will find it, and be stirred with absolute giddiness over their luck. Imagine being near the end of the Games and finding such a goldmine. I can only hope it's neither Jason nor Liber. They don't deserve it, as far as I'm concerned. Rust, wherever he is, could survive there for a while. In fact, if he does happen upon that alcove, burrowed into the cave wall, maybe he'll stay there and allow the rest of us to effectively kill each other. It's what Birch would have wanted.

Nellie and I walk together in relative silence. Despite the looming severity of our circumstances, Nellie keeps a surprisingly slow pace so that I can keep up. In part, I'm grateful, because the world is still so dizzying to me, and my balance is completely off. I'd never considered before how my limbs effected my balance. On the other hand, I wish she'd treat me as if nothing had ever happened, and that she'd stop occasionally looking at my stump with pity.

I try not to look at it at all. I try to pretend that I wounded my arm and that it's bound to my side, and that things will be alright. But that doesn't exactly play out as I want it, too. Because when I feel the phantom fingers of my left hand lift to touch something, but it never does, it brings me back down to reality.

Plus, the fatigue.

I had been relatively tired and dizzy after my head injury early on in the Games, but it pales in comparison to this. I mean, I know why. I lost so much blood, as well as the trauma from the attack itself leaving behind its residuals. My body is recovering from an enormous loss. Being tired is normal. If I had lost my arm in District 4, I would be bedridden and likely pumped by my mom with a variety of sleeping herbs, to keep me from doing something stupid.

We're not in District 4, we're still in the Arena. And there are, at least, two people who want to kill me.

"You okay?" Nellie asks.

I realize I'm swaying a little, so I allow myself the luxury of stopping to lean back against the wall. I don't like the vulnerability or overall exhaustion of it, but I haven't much of a choice. It's either pause, or collapse. "Yeah, fine," I reply. "Give me a minute."

Nellie nods. "Sure."

I focus in on the sharp pain in my shoulder, which trickles through my chest and across the entirety of my body; spreading fast. I try to think of something aside from it, maybe of something good. District 4. I try to imagine the smell of home, how I would leave my bedroom window open so I could hear the waves and smell the sea breeze. I think about the coral reefs I'd visit, which were rich in colors and flooded with life. I think about how I'd wade out into the ocean with a net in hand and a spear in my other, but then that just reminds me of the present. How I shall never wield both again. My eyes open.

Nellie is walking in small paces, looking back and forth in the corridor we're walking through. She looks up, as well; large rocks loom over us, as well as various ledges, of which some are attached to other caverns. They are dead ends that lead to nothing. I had been lucky, I suppose, to have come across dead ends which led to water down below. I wonder if any of the other Tributes had died this way; running through a cavern, only to meet a dead end with solid rock beneath it.

The odds had been in my favor for sometime, yet everyone's luck eventually runs out.

I reach to grab a flask attached to my belt. I drink slowly from it. When I put it back, my fingers brush against a pouch with a little bump to it. I remember, then, the jellyfish venom that had been given to me along with my rapala. I hadn't used all of it when I'd coated it across my curved, thin blade. It could still serve to be useful, particularly since we are currently hunting the surviving Tributes. One of which is my brother...who left me to die.

I push myself off of the wall.

Nellie is fiddling with her falcata sword, twisting its bronze handle around over her knuckles, and catching it amidst the small, flourishing movements. I watch for a moment. I hadn't seen this type of skillset in the Training Center, but that should come as no surprise. Liber and I had had our skills when we trained, as we were instructed to, and no doubt Nellie and Birch had been shown the same. A little fondly, I recall Birch struggling to throw a javelin, and how I had come to help him. His expression had been doubtful, but he'd smiled, all the same.

Nellie had always trained alone, even without Birch. How soon had Birch decided to form an Alliance with District 12, and when had he told Nellie to the fact? I wonder if that was the reason she trained alone, or if it had always been within her interests to do so.

She seems to notice my stare, for her flourishing stops.

"Sorry," I say. "It's just surprising."

"Surprising?" she says, raising her brow. "Oh, I get it. District 7 knowing how to fight?"

"I make a point not to underestimate any District and their talents, or assume," I say.

"Like how District 4 are incredible swimmers?" she says.

I almost smile. "Or how District 7 can climb trees."

She snorts. "Well, for the record, I can climb trees. I can also scale these rocks pretty well, if I have enough leverage," she says, and points her falcata sword vaguely in my direction. "I mean, we're pretty strong in District 7, you know. Climbing and cutting down trees does build stamina, plus the cutting part includes pointy objects of a large type. So, we're very experience in those." Slowly, she smirks. "Like District 4 with tridents and spears."

I glance at the spear in my hand, decorated and far too lavish for my tastes, and meet her gaze again. "Our nets, too," I say. "My mother came from a family of net weavers."

"I remember Finnick Odair winning his Games with his trident and weaving nets out of vines, I think," she says. "Here I thought, you just throw a spear and that's it."

"That's the arrogant man's way," I reply, finding no pleasure in recounting Finnick's Games.

She grunts. "And what about you?" she says. "I haven't seen you use a net once. Would you call yourself arrogant?"

"Most definitely," I say, finding myself laughing. "But I - " I stop, finding a searing pain coursing through me. The motion of my shoulders moving to my laugh, no matter how little, causes a twisting sensation in my shoulder, which also causes me to hiss. I lift my hand to touch the bandaged area. We had changed the bandages again before we'd left the alcove, yet the ointment had only soothed the pain for an hour, if that. I lean over a little, then Nellie takes a step closer.

She goes to sheath her falcata sword. "Hey, let me - "

We hear some rocks rustle over our heads, with a couple of pebbles tumbling down, but before we can react, there's a loud scuffle sound and a shadow looming over us.

Nellie and I both startle as something jumps out from above us. I grasp ahold of my spear, preparing for one of those spidery creatures to have leaped out from those rocky lofts looming over us, and Nellie is surprisingly quick to redraw her falcata sword.. But instead of it being a monster, a little boy hurtles himself off of the short distance and lands upon Nellie. She falls over in the shock of it, with the little boy still atop of her. He jumps off once she's successfully on the ground.

My eyes widen to the sight of Rust, who, as quickly as he can, goes to lunge for the falcata sword still in Nellie's loose grasp. She reacts faster, and uses her leg to kick him back. She flips herself back to her feet, while Rust has fallen off of his. He's staring, wide eyed at her, and Nellie is staring at him with less anger and more pure exasperation. But Rust is quick to get back to his feet. I see the knife that Birch gave him on his belt, which he reaches for.

I push myself off of the wall

"Rust, no!"

Rushing forward causes a wave of dizziness which I forcibly set aside, so that I can curl my arm under the boy and hoist him away from her well before he can do or try anything. He's still swinging his fists and kicking his feet in protest, and I press my hand against the hilt of his knife so that he can't draw it. The boy keeps flailing, managing to successfully elbow me in the gut. I might have been impressed, were I not seriously incapacitated by my lack of a vital limb.

The boy from District 12 keeps kicking and twisting in my arm, desperately trying to reach Nellie as she pushes herself back to her feet.

"Birch said we can't trust her!" Rust says, frantically. "He said she'd kill us if we - "

"Yeah, I would have!" Nellie cuts him off, touching her bleeding nose. "God, kid. What the hell do they teach you in District 12?"

I set Rust down once there's a small bit of distance between himself and Nellie, then I place myself between it by stepping in front of him. I manage to block Nellie from view, though Rust keeps trying to peer behind me. "We can trust her," I say.

"Birch said - "

"I know what Birch said, Rust," I say. "But he's gone, so is Daisy. It's just us now."

Rust's eyes are still wide when he meets mine, but they grow all the wider when his gaze slowly moves towards my stump. His mouth opens, gaping in horror. I can only imagine what he is thinking. At the very least my wound is covered by gauze and bindings, rather than an open thing, with its mangled flesh twisted and covered in stitches, with a layer of healing ointment that smells horrible.

It takes a few seconds for Rust to finally meet my eyes again. "Your arm is gone."

"Yeah, it is."

"That's scary."

I nod. "I know." I point towards Nellie. "She saved my life, Rust. She found me and she took me someplace safe to heal me."

Rust looks at Nellie with clear suspicion, then back at me. "Did Jason cut it off?"

At the mention of Jason, Nellie approaches. "What makes you say that?"

Rust appears still wary, though he doesn't quiet. "I saw Jason cut off the leg of the boy from District 9 when he tried running from him. We washed up in the same place, but I was hiding. So he didn't see me. Jason just cut him up with his axe. There was a lot of blood."

"It wasn't Jason," I say. "It was one of those Mutts - the white crocodile."

Nellie sighs. "And good to know District 1 likes to decapitate his Tributes," she mumbles.

"We're trying to find him and Liber," I interject, bringing Rust's attentions back to me. At Rust's questioning glance to the mention of my brother, I feel myself sigh, and I try very hard to ignore how my chest is cut with pain. "Liber killed Lamia, then he tried to kill me. So we need to find him, too."

Rust looks notably horrified, though he has the decency not to question me about it or make a remark. He simply looks between Nellie and I, actively trying to avoid my stump, and levels his gaze back to me. "I don't know where Liber is, but I know that Jason is stuck."

Nellie's eyes widen. "Wait, you know where Jason is?"

"Yeah, I do," Rust says. "He went back to the Cornucopia for some supplies, then started wandering around. You remember that spot where we first met, Ceres? He's holed up there."

My eyes widen. "And he's stuck?"

Rust nods. "I was planning on hiding there, so I crawled through the wall, but then I saw him and crawled back," he says. "He was trying to figure a way out, so he was using his axe to break at the cave wall. He seemed like he was making a dent to the other side, so I don't know if he's still there."

"There's a gap in the wall," I say to Nellie. "He's too big to squeeze through and it's the only way out, provided he hasn't made a new one. The only way into the cave is a ledge, so we'd have an advantage point. If we can corner him, we can kill him."

Nellie smiles broadly. "We would have the high ground," she says, beaming at Rust. "Good job, kid."

"Do you know how close we are?" I ask him.

"I only got out of there a few hours ago," Rust says, and points up towards the ledge he'd jumped off of. "But we'll have to climb to get there.

Well shit.

"Climb?" I say.

Rust nods. "I don't know how to get there from here," he says, reluctantly staring at my stump.

I can see Nellie is thinking, but I decide to make the executive decision first and foremost. "Okay," I say. "Nellie, you get up there first, then I'll hand Rust to you, and then you can help me up."

Nellie looks up towards the ledge where Rust had jumped off of, then trails her eyes down its sides, and then towards her. Our eyes lock for a moment. She's notably stunned, though not in a good way. "You are stupidly ambitious, then," she says, taking a few steps back so she can properly evaluate our new obstacle. Her eyes crackle as she stands there, calculating every detail. "You sure you can handle that climb?"

"No," I reply. "But I have no choice."

I can tell that my new Ally doesn't like this, but I'm right. Our options, specifically mine, are limited. If we have a chance to kill Jason from a high vantage point, then we ought to seize it. I remember the cave that Rust is talking about well. The gap in the wall had been difficult for even me to squeeze through, a petite young woman. It would be impossible for Jason to even try. Then there is taking into account the water at the base of the drop off, which no doubt houses a translucent Mutt. If Jason were to try escaping, then maybe we would get lucky and he'd be eaten. Either way, it's a safe bet.

Nellie doesn't bicker with me anymore on the topic, rather spending another minute to evaluate the rocky surface, before she is rushing forward and scaling it with swift, expert movements. I watch her with a raised brow, unable to not compare her to a squirrel, with her serpentine like movements. When she reaches the top of the ledge, she hoists herself over it without any problem. She peers down then, taking us in.

If it weren't for my lack of a second arm, I could realistically scale this cave. I have climbed through some cave surfaces before. When I was a kid, I had been significantly braver in venturing into the forbidden caves of District 4. But when my mother found out, she told me a story about someone being trapped in said cave and having suffocated, so, since then, I avoided them. But only have one moderately functioning arm and a stub, I know this is going to be difficult.

Not impossible, but difficult.

"You next," I say to Rust.

He stares at me. "I don't like this," he says, softly. "If I get up there she could kill me, then abandon you here."

It is indeed a possibility, but every type of betrayal is a possibility in the Games, apparently, even from your own brother. I try not to let my mistrust reflect across my features, for his sake, but rather keep a soft smile. "I trust her, Rust. She won't hurt either of us. If she wanted us dead, she'd just climb up and leave us behind," I say, kneeling down. "Put your foot in my hand. I'll hoist you."

"That sounds like a bad idea," Rust says, staring at my stump.

I grimace. "Yeah, it does. Just do it. Hand on my shoulder, let's go."

Rust reluctantly places his hand on my good shoulder, then his foot into my hand. Nellie is already leaned over the edge, her hand outstretched. I take a few breaths before I push myself up as fast and as hard as I'm able. I try to mask it to the best of my ability, but my teeth are gritting together so hard that my jaw genuinely hurts, and I can feel the veins protruding out of my body. Nellie takes ahold of Rust's hand and hoists him up. Now, without the pressure of a little body straining my muscles, I'm able to breathe.

I lean forward, outstretching my hand to support myself against the wall. Deep down, all I can think about is how very easily killable I am right now.

Nellie looks back over the edge at me. "Okay," she says. "Now you?"

"Hang on."

Once my breath is collected, I meet her gaze.

"I'm going to hand you my staff. Take the end and hoist it up, I'll hold onto it, and use my legs to haul myself up," I say.

"You sure that'll work?" Nellie asks.

"No clue, but it's worth it."

I lift my spear upwards. She takes the end of it, casting me a questioning look; when I nod, she nods back. With a deep breath between us, Nellie tightens her hold on the spear and pulls it upward. I move quickly, using my legs to push myself off of the rocky surfaces protruding long and thick out of the wall. My hand is trembling and my whole torso is on fire, but I manage to keep a firm grip. Once I reach the top of the ledge, Rust leans over and grabs my arm to help pull me up.

"Not bad," Nellie says. "One obstacle eluded. Now, where is this cave?"

"I'll take you," Rust says. "Are you okay, Ceres?"

I give him a thumbs up as I lay there. When he laughs, I feel myself smile.

"Let's move, then," Nellie says. "Faster we kill Jason, the better I'll feel."

We walk on for a while, weaving through the caves, which, thankfully, are barren. We haven't encountered anymore of those spider things, nor those rabid bats. But I try not to be overtly hopeful. After all, as proven by this godforsaken Arena, anything could change at any time. The silence is deafening around us now, yet, at any given moment, something could transpire. For all I knew, this cave could erupt like an active volcano and kill us all, just for the giggle of it.

Rust keeps a few strides ahead of us, though he's close enough within reach in case I needed to grab him again, or just overall keep him safe. To say I'm relieved to see him would be an understatement. It had been so odd to see Birch and Daisy without him, and I cannot imagine what the three of them felt to be separated. What sorrow it must be, too, for Rust to know that they're both gone. In a way, I'm almost thankful. At the very least, Rust didn't have to see the knife embedded into the back of Daisy's head or Birch's whole body imploding from the venom, when my brother grazed him with his trident.

Ignorance, in this case, is bliss.

Nellie moves closer beside me, lowering her voice. "I think we should be realistic here. Only one of us is getting out."

A tightness forms in my stride. "I know."

Nellie watches my reaction carefully. I can tell based on the scrunch in her brow and her teeth grazing her lip that she must be rethinking this. Yet she musters the courage to continue. "Let's say we kill Jason and Liber. That still leaves the three of us."

I don't like the insinuation of my brother's murder, but what choice is there? Do I just sit idly back and allow my brother to live, while he kills the rest of the Tributes in this Arena? I try to imagine him hurting Nellie or Rust, and the thought is acidic. It's a poison inside my head, so I quickly thrust it out. "What are you suggesting?"

"I don't want to kill a kid."

"I don't plan on it."

"Well, neither do I, which poses a problem," Nellie says. "Do we let Rust win?"

I look at her, a little surprised. "What?"

"Rust could win the Games. For Birch."

"I thought you said you'd kill him."

"At the time, yeah. But...I don't know. I don't want that Career winning, or your brother - no offense. It's a little unconventional, but if you and I were to take care of Jason and Liber, then that'd be that. We could secure his victory."

"None taken," I say. "But him winning means you lose, you know. You'd die here, and you wouldn't go back to your family.

Nellie's lip twitches. "Well, I have three older brothers who work in the lumberyards. My mom died when I was a kid, and my dad lost his leg in an accident, so we take care of him. My brothers would be fine without me. What about you?"

My parents would lose both of their children to the Arena, rather than having their son return home. It would be a blow unlike any other, but they've been preparing for it. How could they not? Despite my promises and my pomp and preening, I also always knew that there was a possibility we'd both die here. I had just hoped that I would die protecting Liber, not being killed by him.

"My family will be fine without me," I say, because I need to believe it.

"For Birch, then?" she asks, brow raised.

"For Birch," I echo. But I can't kill Liber.

Rust turns around, oblivious to our conversation. "It's right down here," he says.

Although the cave does look the same, I do recognize this rounded corridor. We jog out until we reach the edge of the tunnel, where we proceed to lower ourselves to the ground, and shuffle carefully towards its edge.

Peering over the edge, I watch as Jason swings his axe against the wall. Rust wasn't exaggerating, it was certainly making a dent. The once sturdy formation of the cave wall was now crumbling beneath the brute force of the boy from District 1, as he swings his axe back and forth with incomparable ferocity. I imagine it wouldn't be long before he would breach the other aside.

There is also no need to wonder why the Gamemakers haven't intervened with Jason destroying their Arena. There is a large pile of silver parachutes in the corner of the cave, with food and a couple of weapons sprawled out. Even trapped into a corner, it seems that Jason is quite popular. This shouldn't come as any surprise, though. After seeing him completely decimate countless Tributes during the initial bloodbath, I can imagine most bloodthirsty and crazed Capitolians rushing to Sponsor him. He is also a Career and incredibly strong, so it goes without saying that he would be a favorite - even if he had shown mercy to me and my Alliance when he'd stumbled upon us after the bat attack.

But the time for mercy is over. Our numbers are dwindled and I can feel the end looming over us. It's only a matter of time before one person is standing, with the rest dead - whether it comes naturally, or the Gamemakers feel inclined to rush their ending.

Nellie leans a little over the edge, watching Jason as he swings again and again. Despite how massive his axe is, there isn't a long pause between each swing. Jason doesn't even crack a sweat in the back and forth motion. It's fluid, quick, and relentless.

Nellie's brow crinkles together disapprovingly. "The Mutt isn't attacking him," she says, confused.

I glance down towards the clear water, thinking about how I had pushed Birch into it when we'd first run from the bloodbath. It feels like decades ago, when it's only been a few days. Despite myself, I also think of when we'd all fallen into the black water. I had pulled Birch and Daisy out of the darkness. Rust had looked at me with terror as he stood on the shore's edge, because we both knew that I was the only one capable of retrieving them. Despite the odds, I had. They had died, anyway, but that was the way of the Games. It takes, it takes, and it never gives.

"They attack when they smell blood," I explain. I shudder a little, though, when I recall the two black Mutts using echolocation to track me down when I was below ground.

Rust looks at me. "So it was in there when Daisy and I jumped in? But weren't you and Birch bleeding when you guys fell in...?"

There is no way in hell I can possibly explain to a child as to why we weren't attacked, knowing what I do. Seneca Crane had met me in secret upon that rooftop, had kissed my forehead, and had no doubt been the one responsible for all of the lavish, expensive gifts between me and Liber. His intentions are quite clear. While Nellie might be capable of understanding it, I don't think he can. I certainly wouldn't expect him to. Besides, I don't want to bring it up, because there isn't really much of a point. I'm not the one making it out of this, least of all in the shape I'm in, and regardless of how many Sponsors I have.

That much is decided. I don't even remember if Birch and I had been bleeding when we'd fled the Cornucopia, but, even if we had, there's no doubt in my mind that the creature wouldn't have stirred either way.

So, rather than give the whole truth, I offer a fraction of it. "It could be there isn't one in there," I say. "Or maybe it was deactivated or glitched. Sometimes that happens in Arenas."

Rust doesn't look convinced, but he nods, anyway. "So it could be down there."

Nellie meets my gaze. "So, then we need a little blood to test it out," she says. She reaches for one of the knives attached to her belt, and proceeds to glide it across her palm. Crimson blood pools between her fingers, and she's quick to outstretch her hand over the edge, with the droplets falling as she squeezes. She bites her lower lip.

The three of us sit tensely, waiting for the inevitable. It takes about a minute, but suddenly the water is rippling, and then there's an enormous splash. A fine white creature adorned with almost rainbow diamonds emerges out, huge jaw wide open as it roars. Jason turns and faces this thing without so much as a flinch. His muscles flex when he grips the axe tighter. The Mutt leaps out of the water and slams against the ground with a loud, resounding roar. It causes the very walls of the cave to shake. Rust has to slam his hands over his own ears to muffle it. I almost do the same, but I'm too fixated on what's happening below me.

The crocodile lunges forward, its jaw still wide open, but suddenly the axe is slammed onto its head. It doesn't break the thick hide of the creature, though it definitely startles it. Without any pause, Jason swings his burly axe over and over again. It lands down against the Mutt's head repeatedly, without fail. The Mutt's tail starts swishing violently in the water, torn between fight or flight. It ultimately tries lunging out of the water towards him, but I notice that its jaw has become dislocated, as it does not close, nor open, properly as it moves. Its attempts to grab Jason are in vain, as he jumps to the side. He strikes down again.

It takes several blows, but Jason has successfully caved in the skull of the Mutt, all without breaking its skin. Its eyes, however, have popped out of its head, and black blood oozes out of the sockets. Jason looks down at the dead Mutt for a moment, then looks impassively across the water. He stands in wait for a minute or two before he turns back around and resumes chipping at the wall.

Rust's jaw has dropped entirely and Nellie's expression is blank.

She inhales sharply. "Definitely can't fight him hand to hand," she says, hissing through her teeth.

Rust glances at her. "Maybe we should've clued in when he cut a guy's head off with just one hit during the bloodbath," he says. "Okay, what if we lured the bats to him? They could kill him or at least incapacitate him."

I shake my head. "It's a good idea in theory, but we don't know where the bats are, and even if we found them and made them follow us here, there's no guarantee we would survive that. Remember last time, Rust? We could barely see."

"Maybe I could shoot him," Nellie offers, touching the quiver attached to her back.

Rust stares at her in disbelief. "You really think arrows could do damage to a guy like that?"

I sincerely doubt that anything aside from absolute brute strength would be enough to actually do serious damage to Jason. Having watched him kill a Mutt without batting an eye, I feel my chest tighten with concern, and yet I also feel something elated flutter through me. My hand presses against one of the pouches in my belt, which I proceed to undo. "Maybe not just arrows," I say, carefully withdrawing my glass vial of jellyfish venom.

Rust and Nellie look at it curiously as I twist it between my fingers.

"What's that?" Rust asks.

"Jellyfish venom," I say. "I used this on the boy from District 8. It killed him almost instantly." I look towards Jason as he hacks endlessly at the wall. "It might take a hefty dosage, but it can knock him out, too."

Nellie appears satisfied by this hand hands me her arrows. "So you just coat the tips?"

"More or less."

I take her arrows and very carefully drizzle the venom over them. I save a little bit to apply to my spearhead, just to be safe, and then I tuck the now empty vial back into my pouch. We sit for a minute to allow the arrowheads to dry. Once they do, I hand them back to Nellie.

Nellie accepts them. "Full disclosure, I've only ever used a bow and arrow twice before," she says.

"I could just throw this," I say, my fingers curling tighter over my spear.

"I wouldn't suggest you throw your spear," she says, shaking her head. "I don't think you're in shape to throw it. Besides, if you throw it and miss, then he has another weapon against us. And I'd rather avoid him hurtling a very sharp pointed object towards us. Relax, Rythe. I can handle this. I think."

Nellie steps close to the edge, squatting low. She steadies herself on the ball of her foot, proceeding to draw her arrow from the quiver, and carefully arching. We watch with held breaths as she cocks it, aiming it carefully towards Jason. He continues slamming his axe against the wall, though he pauses for a moment to catch his breath. Nellie seems to take a breath of her own, holding it. Then her fingers release the first arrow, which whistles through the air and pierces Jason in his side. She quickly loads another, as Jason stumbles in surprise and touches the wound.

His eyes raise up in our direction, instantly narrowing. With a furious expression, he pulls the arrow out and snaps it. He steps towards the water's edge, standing beside the very dead Mutt. He seems to weigh his options, if it's smart to swim across the water and attempt to scale the rocks to the entrance. But before he has time to really consider it, Nellie is already pointing another arrow at him.

Jason glares darkly. "So this is how you kill me, huh? Makes sense. Couple of weaklings like you - "

The arrow flies forward and strikes Jason in the stomach. He pulls it out, though I notice how his expression shifts. He looks a little green around the gills now. The venom has started its way into his bloodstream, spreading slowly, unfortunately, due to his massive size and overall build. Yet as slow as it is, its presence is unquestioning.

Nellie loads another arrow. "I'm trying to aim for his head," she mumbles to me.

"Just keep hitting him. It's jellyfish venom. So long as it's in his blood, he's dead," I say.

Nellie releases another arrow, but this time he dodges it. He storms towards the pile of silver gifts, grabbing ahold of a simpler axe that is embedded into the rocky wall. He pulls it out and turns fiercely, albeit with a subtle sway; like a giant boulder about to topple over.

I push Rust back. "Get down," I say to them both.

Jason hurtles the axe towards us and we all pull back and duck into the tunnel. But the axe doesn't strike at us, it strikes directly above us; at the crest of the entrance. Peering back down, I see that Jason is truly staggering now as he goes to reach another weapon. Nellie notices this, too, and releases another hour. This one hits the back of his calf, causing him to fall to his knee. He lets out a sharp cry.

"Only one more arrow," I say to her.

She shrugs, leaning over the edge. She loads the arrow and points it towards him. "Just let me - "

But suddenly the rocks over our heads start to rustle, with a large crack forming down the center of the tunnel's entrance. The axe, which had been embedded into the crest of the entrance, falls, as well. Surely a little axe like that couldn't cause the structure to crumble altogether, but I don't wholly believe it was of a natural cause. My eyes flash as dust and rocks start to crumble, knowing full well that we were about to be caved in. I grab my spear and push Rust with the side of my body, encouraging him forward.

"Nellie, Rust, go!" I shout.

The cave crumbles in around us. I can hear the frantic yelling and sounds of both Rust and Nellie, but I focus on running. Once we reach the end, of the cave, Rust and I stumble together. And when I turn around, Nellie is gone, and the tunnel leading into the cave is closed by an array of rocks.

Rust stares on with wide eyes. "What..." he trails.

"I think the Gamemakers are ready for this to be over," I say, gravely.

I hold my breath, waiting for a sound on the other side; affirmation from Nellie that she's okay, that she'll find us later. But there's none. A cannon resounds throughout the Arena, accompanied shortly after by another. My heart instantly falls.

"What now?" Rust asks.

"Now we find my brother," I say.

"What do you mean?"

"My brother is going to try to kill me. He'll probably succeed," I say. "Even if I wanted to fight him, I'm in no shape for it. I can maybe hinder him and hold him back, but I won't win, and I'm not sure I can live with his blood on my hands, anyway...even if I die first."

Rust swallows. "So you'll kill each other?"

I go quiet for a moment. How did it turn to this? I'd spent the better part of my youth pining for this, to stand as one of the last few in the middle of the Games, and to seek out my enemies. I would stand, in the end, as the Victor of District 4. Granted, in my fantasies, I had never imagined killing anyone. I always imagined the fantastical aspects of it, which included a fabulous dress and Interview, being cheered for during the Parade, having an array of Sponsors at my beck and call, and then standing with my fists raised in pride as my name is called as the Victor of the Hunger Games. I had imagined it so much that I often dreamed of it.

I would sometimes relay these dreams to my family. Dad would never really reply to it, but mom would usually change the subject. She wasn't overly enthused by my obsession with the Hunger Games, yet I think she knew better than to try staunching it; I was too stubborn, I would have just become all the more enthralled by it. My brother, meanwhile, would roll his eyes. I would elbow him when he'd tease me or say something snarky. I would tell him that, once I won the Games, he would never be allowed to tease me again, because I would be his superior in all senses.

Now we stand as the last of three.

When I had Volunteered for him, I had considered the possibility that it would be just us in the end. For Liber, I had been so ready to cast everything aside to keep him safe, and forgo any chance of a life for myself. I hadn't even thought twice about it. The cost I have paid is beyond measure, more than just the loss of my arm and even the betrayal my brother committed against me.

Whether I like it or not, everything ends today. When dad goes back home to District 4, it will be without both of his children. I can only hope that mom will forgive him for it. I also hope that my brother's actions committed against me weren't shown in full, for their sakes. I imagine they were very loudly and openly shown, because the Gamemakers do love theatrics involved in their affairs. But I just want to believe that my brother will be remembered fondly, rather than the coward who betrayed his sister without a second thought.

I look down at Rust.

He's so small. His cheeks are still sunken in and he's still too small for his height, he doesn't belong here. He never did. He deserves to go home and find some semblance of peace, the very same that Birch had fought for when he had chosen to take on the well-being and safety of the two children from District 12. I like to think he would feel relieved, maybe even honored, to know that Nellie and I had carried on with his task.

"Keep close to me, but if we find my brother I need you to go hide."

"Go where?" Rust says. "I don't want to leave you."

"You'll have to," I say, as I continue on through the tunnel. Rust follows close behind. "We won't have much of a choice."

Rust goes quiet after that. We wander the length of the Arena, overwhelmed by just how quiet it is. The Gamemakers seem to have withdrawn their respective creatures, for I hear and see nothing save for our own shadows. It's the end and they know it. Everyone sits with their breaths held as their final gambles are placed. I know that Rust isn't the Victor that the Capitol, or even Panem, wants. Jason was the ideal candidate to be their Victor, for he embodied all of the strengths of a typical Career. But he's dead now, thanks to Nellie. Nellie. The girl who climbed trees in District 7 and had three brothers, a father without a leg, and who saved my life. It's a debt I can never repay, and I know that she deserved so much more than being crushed to death by those rocks.

But nobody gets a fair, justified death in the Games. The least I can do is afford the luxury of life to Rust. The Capitol will be angry, as will the Sponsors that put so much time and effort into me and Liber. No doubt Seneca Crane, being a Capitolian of high stature and luxury, shall throw a fit of his own. If the gaudy spear in my hand conveyed anything, it was the amount of money he had put into us - specifically me, I imagine. Perhaps he's sitting in his little den of Gamemakers now, trying to figure out how to fix things. But there is no fixing things. My mind is made up.

I just can't think about my dad, who will no doubt be watching my final showdown with my brother, nor can I think about Finnick. I can only imagine what they are thinking about, not just today but over the passing days. Vainly, I hope that they have stayed so occupied with their respective affairs that they have been oblivious to everything transpiring. I pray that neither of them know about my lost arm or Liber's betrayal.

In truth, I doubt my father will ever forgive Liber for it, even if he were to return home, alive. My mother, I think, will be angry, but not entirely towards her son.

And then there's Finnick.

My heart weighs heavy to the idea of never seeing him again, but it's a reality that I have long since accepted. When I Volunteered for Liber, I knew that I would be throwing away everything - but I never could have imagined that Finnick would have played such a role in that. All those years of fishing together, particularly in those final four, we had found peace in each other. Now more than ever, I wish we could go back to that day on the boat, the day before the Reaping, when all we cared about were the fish we caught, and floating idly on the ocean's surface in our little boat.

I wish I had appreciated him more. The way the sun caught in his auburn hair and how his eyes seemed to sparkle when he'd watch the sunset over the ocean. How he would lean back so casually and joke with me, regardless of the circumstances, and how he always made me smile. Even when he angered me, when he was at his most frustrating, I needed him there beside me.

Why couldn't I have seen that before?

All those years spent fighting with one another, we had both been secretly pining. Although it does me no good, I do have to wonder how things might have been had one of us approached the other. If I had gone to Finnick when I'd realized my feelings changed, before I could overthink it, maybe we could have had more time. Maybe, if I had truly had Finnick at the time of the Reaping, I never would have Volunteered.

But what sort of sister would I be if I hadn't?

Maybe I would have been a smart one, yet I can't bring myself to regret Volunteering for him. He could have died far sooner and violently if it weren't for me. But he has also proven himself traitorous. My life means nothing to him, even though I sold it in exchange for his.

Now, as these ends meet, I know I'm going to have to make some terribly violent decisions.

"What's that?" Rust asks, drawing me from my own mind.

Located in the middle of the tunnel is a large hole, with jagged edges. I approach it carefully, though I can already see the silver rims from the crystals down below. I exhale, taking a step back. "We need to turn around and find a different way," I say. "Trust me. I was down there before, after the flooding."

"What's down there?"

"More Mutts," I say.

Rust visibly grimaces at me. "How many?"

"Two," I reply, turning around and walking down to the end of the tunnel.

We wander around for some time, until we happen upon an area of the cave I hadn't been to before. The tunnel is a tight fit, but once we're able to squeeze through, we happen upon a large, open space covered in moss which coat various rocks, as well as having a giant hole at the top of the cave, where sunlight peers through, and there being another giant hole in the ground, albeit not in our way; this ne is located at the base of the wall. The golden hue of the rocks is muffled by the natural sunlight pouring through the hole, but also by the mass coating of the moss.

Together we advance further in, mindful of the hole in the ground, as well as the possibility of there being others. Were it not for all that has happened and what will happened, I might have taken a moment to appreciate its beauty. The moss is emerald green, covering obsidian surfaces, and the sunlight feels so warm. The hole above us, however, is far too high and too unrealistic to scale.

There is no time to consider the caves beauty, for, before we can react, there is a shaking in the walls, and the entrance to the cave is suddenly gone. Rocks tumble downward, one by one covering the entrance until it, too, becomes apart of the elements. I watch on without any surprise, feeling myself tense as I find there are no other exits in this Arena, save for the hole in the ceiling and the one in the ground.

"Are we trapped in here?" Rust asks.

I nod. "Now's the time to go hide," I say. "I think my brother's here."

"So...he caved us in?"

"No. Go hide."

The Gamemakers must have. They are eager for this cat and mouse to come to an end, for a Victor to stand tall and powerful at the heart of the Arena. I understand that feeling, for I am also tired of playing their Game.

Rust watches me for a moment, looking as though he wants to argue. But when it becomes clear that there is nothing more to say or to do, he nods. I watch as he carefully leaves my side, climbing and gliding down rocks until he disappears from view. I wait a moment or two for any sound of distress, but when all is still quiet, I venture forward again. The moss makes a strange sound beneath my feet. I adjust my spear so that it fits more snugly in my hand.

I know how this is going to end, just as my brother knows. Once I am standing in the center of the cave, with the sunlight trailing down upon me, I dare to release my voice. "Liber!" I call, glancing every which way. I know that if he tries to throw his trident at me, he'll likely miss; but even if it did graze me, like it did Birch, it could still devastate me. Then there is him possibly plunging it back through my neck from behind, as he did with Lamia. I peer over my shoulder. "Liber, I know you're in here! Just come out."

The cave echoes my voice. I listen to it eerily bounce off the walls, growing quieter and quieter with every passing second. The silence is near deafening. Even my own thoughts go quiet. All at once, my gaze turns sharply when I notice the sound of crunching moss, as well as something metal grazing against the rocks. I turn around, spear gripped tight in my hand. From below emerges Liber, who looks disgruntled and very tired. His trident is in his hand, grazing the ground as he walks; its sharp points penetrating through the moss to reach the rocks. He pauses once we're fully in sight of each other. His grey-blue eyes flicker to my stub, and, for a fleeting moment, I see something akin to sympathy in his gaze.

Regardless of whether or not its sincere, I pay no credence to it. Liber left me in the water for the creature. He had no doubt watched it roll from above the surface, given how crystal clear the water is; even with all of the thrashing and blood that came from it. But he knew I was alive, surely. There were no cannons for me, nor did my face appear among the rest of the fallen Tributes when night fell.

Liber finally meets my gaze again. "I knew you were alive."

"I thought so," I reply.

"I'm surprised," he admits. "I saw the crocodile pull you into the death roll. I knew you were alive when I didn't hear a cannon go off, but I at least assumed you'd be immobile. Maybe even braindead somewhere in a corner of the Arena, waiting to be killed by a Tribute or by a monster."

I swallow. "That's unfortunate for you, then," I say.

He scoffs, looking at the spear in my hand. "So you've changed your mind about killing me?"

"I don't want to kill you, Liber," I say. When he rolls his eyes, I add, "Why do you hate me?"

Liber adjusts the trident in his hand, expression almost contemplating for that pause. I see so much hatred behind his eyes, yet I see his forehead crinkle, and his lips tighten together. There's a hesitance, where I wonder if he'll throw down his weapon and decide against this fight. But we're far passed that point now. "Dad always took you fishing, never me."

"You never liked it," I reason.

"It was more than just the fishing," Liber says. "I knew when you Volunteered for me that you were basically killing me. Do you really think that dad, that Finnick, would let me walk out of this Arena, with you on the line?" Before I can reply, he continues, his voice gradually sharpening. "I used to think your obsession with the Hunger Games was stupid and thickheaded, but I think a part of you was right about it. There is something powerful in being its Victor, at least the hope there. I never knew I wanted it, not until you were here. He never tried enough. He never fought for me the way he did for you."

I stay quiet, my eyes narrowing at him.

Liber scoffs again. "If you'd stayed out of the Games, I could have had a chance to win for myself. Maybe it could've...maybe dad would look at me like I was more than just a weakling, and mom wouldn't look right through me when she said to win," he says.

"They'll never forgive you if you kill me."

"I know," he says, his voice almost shaking. "But you know that they'd never forgive you for dying for me, right?"

"I know," I say.

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," Liber says, bitterly. "I wish it hadn't come to this, Ceres. But there can only be one, you know that."

"You're choosing to kill me," I remind him.

Liber shrugs. "You chose to die for me. What's the difference?"

"Liber, I don't - "

My brother heaves a deep breath. He wields his trident firmly and lunges towards me, with a speed that I find almost surprising. I move sideways quickly, dodging his blow as he swings his trident outward. My mind is still reeling from my blood loss, the world still spinning against me, yet I time my dodges to the best of my ability. The moss crunches beneath my feet as I move. Liber swings and plunges in my direction, yet I use my agility to my advantage, as hindered as it is. Liber is still not used to the weight of a trident in his hands, of its power and of its prowess. I use this as my guide. His movements are too slow and clunky.

I try to keep mine fluid, even though my head is pounding and my stump is searing with pain. I use my spear as defense, able to deflect his attacks and slam the butt of it against his legs. He hisses in pain, but he doesn't go down. He seems to remember this strategy from our first fight, because he manages to deflect my blows with his trident. The sound of metal clashing together echoes throughout the Arena, though it falls upon deaf ears. I hear nothing, save for blood pumping in my ears. Liber's expression is twisted into something horrible, his teeth gnashing together and his eyes narrowed at me. I can see the desperation in every movement he makes.

With every deflection on my part, it only strengthens his resolve. But I am becoming more and more tired with every movement. The pain within me is spreading vastly like a poison. My movements start to slow despite my efforts. So when my brother uses the butt of his trident to knock me off my feet, I'm unable to block it. I fall backwards, landing upon a bed of moss. My spear is still tightly held in my hand, but the world is spinning so fast now that I'm seeing triple. I don't know which Liber is the real Liber, and I look rapidly between them.

He lifts the trident over his head, its prongs pointed downward towards me. I wonder if he'll kill me the way he killed Lamia, by plunging it into my neck, or if he'll go for my chest or my stomach, or if he'll impale me again and again until I'm nothing but blood, like when Jason killed the Mutt.

"Liber - "

But there's a rushing sound followed by a feral yell, and suddenly Rust has jumped onto Liber's back, attempting to crawl up and claw at him. Liber lets out a surprised shout. He stumbles backwards and starts to fail around, attempting to dismantle Rust off of his back, but the little boy now has his arms firmly wrapped around Liber's neck. In a moment of impressive brutality, Rust sinks his teeth into my brother's neck, causing Liber to let out another cry.

Liber tries slamming Rust against some nearby rocks, but the boy keeps biting, until I see blood drawn, and Rust starts to viciously shake his head; teeth still clamped. I hurriedly push myself to my feet, using my spear as a can to get myself back up. Hypothetically, if I were in better shape, I could throw my spear and pierce through the leg of my brother to bring him down, all without hurting Rust. But the world is still blurry, still spinning, and even when I do lift my spear, I feel everything shaking. "Rust, let go!" I command, because if he lets go of Liber, then I can possibly have a better chance.

I can just bring my brother down, yet Rust doesn't let go. So I rush towards them.

Rust throws his head back, with a chunk of my brother's neck in his mouth. He spits it out, and Liber, in absolute rage, grabs for the knife at his side and, with clumsy precision, stabs backwards. He only grazes Rust's cheek, causing the boy to loosen his grip. Rust looks at me for a fraction of a second.

"Let go!" I yell to him as I run towards him. "Run!"

But before Rust can obey me, my brother's blade finds Rust's eye. It pierces hilt deep, causing blood to spurt out instantly. It pools out of his eye in globs, staining the entirety of the side of his face. He's still gaping at me in shock, more so when Liber pulls the blade out. What I see is a bloodied, emptied socket. When I blink, it's Harpee staring back at me. I blink again, willing away the image of the girl with an arrow through her eye, who had been my friend. But what worse, the little boy from District 12 is still staring at me, and then he is sliding off my brother's body and landing to the ground.

The cannon goes off before Rust even hits the ground. His head lolls to the side, staring off into nothing, and I can practically hear Birch in the back of my head, gently telling me how he wants to give these children from District 12 a chance. I think about Nellie, who had said that she would keep Rust alive, for Birch. How very in vain our ambitions had been. We went into these Games willing to protect those who we deemed as weak, yet, in the end, it was for naught. Birch died protecting these children, as Nellie died protecting me and Rust. Now I die trying to protect a boy who was never going to make it and the boy who always wanted me dead.

Liber is staggering, his hand instinctually cupping over the open, torn wound on his neck. Blood is pooling over the front of his sea-green shirt, now a dull shade of red thanks to the blood he has spilled. He lifts his gaze hatefully to mine. Removing his bloodied hand, he takes his trident into both hands and lunges at me again. I consider just standing there and letting him do it, but something in me emerges; an anger I haven't felt in so long. Despite the ringing in my ears and the countless losses I have faced, I meet his blow firmly. I raise my spear and deflect it, using as much force as I can to push him back.

Liber staggers back. We repeat this pattern again and again, as our feet move us across the Arena. I don't directly attack him, but I dodge every one of his. He is getting progressively angrier, second by second, and I can feel my head becoming lighter. It's only a matter of time before one of us breaks.

He swings his trident out at me and duck. When I rise back up, I use my spear to push him back. The tip of it grazes his cheek. He nearly falls backwards altogether, but he merely stumbles down some rocks. With his balance briefly lost, he manages to maintain his footing, but I can see he's now dangerously close to the hole in the ground, where silver rocks glow and Mutts await in black water. My brother reaches to touch his cheek, glowering at me.

"That's the best you can do?" he snarls.

He grabs ahold of the rocks, beginning to hoist himself back up. But as he is breaching the top, he stops. His stare slowly fading into confusion, then, within a heartbeat, he is screaming in pain. My brother lets go of his trident, which clatters down across the rocks, and starts to claw at his skin. He loses his grip and falls backwards. He lands upon the ground, still clawing at himself. I see the veins protruding out of his head and along his neck, vibrant and blue. His eyes become so bloodshot that I can scarcely tell what color his eyes used to be. Blood begins to trickle from them, along with his ears. He's clawing at himself, trying to stand up, but falling. He tries to roll over, but is met with nothing.

The venom, I think with horror as I slide down the rocks to get to him. I had poisoned the tip of my spear for good measure - I had completely forgotten about it. I hadn't even thought of it. Horror fills me when I reach the base of the rocks, but my brother is already on his knees, flailing like a mad fish out of water. He looks like sharks that are pulled to shore; their whole bodies flailing, sometimes too dangerous to approach and to help, yet you can't help but to stare and wish that you could.

My brother manages to get to his knees as he's gasping for air, blood already pooling out of his mouth. When he tries to stand, he falls again, but this time it is over the edge and into the hole. I try to reach for him but it's too late. I hear the thud of his body against the ground, and I'm quick to peer down over the edge. He's still alive, writhing against the obsidian surfaces. I see the black water against the silver rocks, with his blood pooling across the rocky surface to find it. I can hear the loud, feral hiss in the distance.

Somehow, Liber's eyes find mine. "P-please!" he yells. "Ceres!"

My heart is thudding so madly now I can barely hear it. I see the movement in the black water as the crocodile approaches. I see the surface of its orange diamond head. My eyes find my brother's, who is staring at me with desperation. His whole body is convulsing, but it will not be the venom that kills him. His shall be a more violent and terrible death. I can't allow it. I grip my spear tighter and stand up. I firm my stance as much as I am able to and lift my spear over my head. But my vision is clouding, and it's not because of the dizziness.

With a low sound, I summon all the strength I have and hurtle my spear downward. I expect it to miss him, on account of my current circumstances, yet it somehow manages to pierce the center of his chest. His expression is stunned for a fraction of a second, as the Mutt lurches out of the water. Yet before the Mutt can even reach him, the cannon goes of.

I fall to my knees, staring down at my brother's bloated, bloodied face. His eyes are bloodshot and near bulging out of his skull, their shade of grey-blue lost to the red. Every corner of his mouth is painted red, and it still drips down his lips and onto his neck, which also still bleeds. I stare at my brother's mangled corpse as long as I can, before the Mutt grabs ahold of it and drags it into the black water. Then all I have is just a bloodspot leftover from my brother's corpse; a pool of it, in fact. Dark and crimson.

I wish I could scream, but there's nothing in me. All I can do is stare down that gaping hole where he had been. My spear is gone, too, swept away by the crocodile, but I don't care. Let it be gone. Let it all be gone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I suddenly hear a voice echo throughout the Arena, "I present to you the winner of the 68th annual Hunger Games!"

I used to dream about this moment, when I alone would be standing in the heart of the Arena, victorious and head high, as they called my name. It would echo throughout the Arena and all through Panem. I would raise my fist with pride, and likely my spear with me. Ceresea Rythe, Victor of District 4. Now I can scarcely hear the announcer, or even my own thoughts. Instead of standing, I'm kneeling. Instead of holding my hands high, I only have one now. And instead of feeling pride, I feel nothing.

Nothing at all.

I think they announce my name, but it doesn't matter. My eyes close, but the image of my brother laying there - what worse, the image of him dying - flashes across my vision so violently that I feel my head implode. When I open my eyes, I see fireworks of white around the corners of my vision, which close in second by second, until my body falls to the ground. I land on my good arm, gratefully, but it doesn't matter. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling over me, to the ray of sunlight which pierces through the cave like hell.

Let me close my eyes again, for only a moment.

Let me breathe.

Let me stay here a while.

Let me forget that I won.

(a/n): So Ceres won! (No surprises there, since I've stated very early on in the chapters that Ceres' story will cover the events of the Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay. But there you have it! Ceres did what she always wanted, she won the Games. But at the cost of so, so much. ^^ Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the Games' scenes, and who were so supportive to my designs and ideas! I am almost sad that we're gonna be leaving this cave. I've grown attached to it. XD

But, anyway, the next chapter already is outlined, so I'll get started writing it tonight. *evil cackle* I will say! Next chapter will take place from the POV's of Finnick and Seneca. ^^ And it will feature canonical characters from both perspectives, one of which I have been very excited to write for. *LOUDER CACKLE*

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I certainly did. ;_;

Review replies

rikiarin: *is currently crying* Wow, just thank you so, so much! I was so thrilled that you noticed the parallel, because it is something I gave so much thought to! And, in both cases, Ceres and Rheon were willingly sacrificing someone else for the life of another. ;_; I honestly appreciate your review so much! I was a little nervous to write the action packed sections of this story, because I've never written action before, but the feedback has been so wonderful, and the fact you had to pace while reading it just made my day! ^^ I hope you enjoy this chapter, too!

tomeii: I honestly take it as such a high compliment that Liber killing Lamia was a huge surprise, because it was a surprise to me, too! In my original draft, Lamia was killed by Birch, but I knew it had to be Liber. A betrayal so nice, he did it twice. XD I have no comment on a metal arm, but...I can promise cool things ahead. ;) Thank you! It's honestly really hard to have a setting where you have a main character in an environment designed to kill her, and trying not to make a Mary-Sue or someone coated in Plot Armor. Ceres has certainly had her moments of evading death, but I also needed her to be human and vulnerable in the Games, too. And losing her arm is the best way to do it, in more ways than one. ;)

the. apple .seed: Thank you so much! I knew from the very beginning that Ceres would lose her arm and Liber would betray her, but I'd actually never planned for it to happen at once. So this surprised me, but it felt right. ^^ I really appreciate your comment on my characters having realistic knowledge, that means the world! I always struggle and worry over "this character knows too much" or "this character knows too little," so your comment really warms my heart! And as far as what Finnick is thinking, I imagine it's a whole lot of "HOLY FUCK - SHIT, SHIT - FUCK, SHIT FUCK" followed by breathing into a brown paper bag.

scars from the sun: To say I bawled over your review would be an understatement! I was so worried about writing the actual Games, because I was afraid it'd be too boring or generic or over the top, but your review just made me feel so happy and so warm inside, so thank you so much! Rheon is honestly a character that I truly, deeply, love. A man who started as a fishmonger and was forced into the Games, became a Victor, and now his kids are in his shoes. And choosing between them...that whole scene was tough to write, especially from Seneca's view as he's so desensitized by the Games that forcing a man to choose between his own children doesn't even effect him. Demetra's reactions to everything, once we get back to District 4, will be interesting...to say the least. ;) Wonderful observation about Ceres' lost arm and her fate as a potential slave to the Capitol! All I can say is, read on, and carry one. ;) Oh my Gosh, I actually read my chapter over with that soundtrack and I died! And now I'm gonna include recommended soundtracks to listen to for chapters, because, wow, that was such a fun experience! ^^ Thank you again for your continued love and support!

TRIBUTES OF THE 68TH ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES

DISTRICT 1

- Jason Ironjaw (18): DECEASED

- Lamia Lowvale (15): DECEASED

DISTRICT 2