Endure Chapter 17: Chance Encounter, a hunger games fanfic

~Chapter Seventeen: Chance Encounter~

"Life is a lone wolf, scratching out a living with teeth and claws and a heart of stone." ―Dan Wells, Ruins

The cannons were kind enough not to interrupt my sleep that night.

However, the growing hunger and thirst certainly did. I woke up numerous times from the discomfort, which wasn't really helped by the fact that I was sleeping up against tree bark. I knew it was smartest to sleep like this for safety reasons, but that didn't mean it was enjoyable.

When the first rays of sunlight began streaking across the sky, bringing with it a new dawn and the promise of another swelteringly hot day, I decided it was time to move. There was no way I was getting back to sleep now, and I wanted to check my snares.

Untying myself, and shimmying down from the tree, was not remotely pleasant. Every joint of my body felt stiff and sore, and I was pretty sure my rear end was bruised and my back was scraped from the bark. I had a handful of bug bites now, that itched every time I thought about them. My throat was parched, and the hunger was painful in my belly.

Nothing life-threatening. Yet. It was just all around irritating, and uncomfortable.

The first thing I needed to do was check my snares. I fervently hoped I'd been lucky with them.

I trudged through the forest, as silently as possible, making my way back to where I'd set up the snares not too far away. The first one was empty, and my stomach contracted, feeling the loss of a potential meal.

The relief I felt when I checked the second one was almost overwhelming.

If I were being honest, it was probably one of the weakest catches I could get. It was a rodent, but small, probably only a few mouthfuls of meat. Of all the wildlife I'd seen, it was actually somewhat unlucky that this was what I'd caught.

But I didn't dare complain, because it was food.

Now, the unfortunate part. Cooking and cleaning. I was glad I had this knife to help, but I'd be starting a fire with sticks. I was once again thankful that I'd visited the fire-starting station multiple times, practicing exactly this.

Fortunately, finding tinder and kindling was fairly easy. I knew dry wood tended to cause less smoke, and fortunately it seemed not to have rained for a while, so I tried to be selective, even given the fact my stomach was begging me to cook the rodent. I cleared an area as much as possible so that my fire wouldn't burn out of control, then staged the tinder and kindling in a way that they'd be ready to go, once I'd created the first ember.

The next step was to find a relatively flat branch and a sturdy stick that I could actually use to start the fire. Once located, I used the knife to cut a notch into the flat branch, then sharpened one end of the stick to a point. With time and patience, I could use the friction of the pointed stick rolled into the notch on the flat branch to form the embers needed to get the fire going.

I've done this multiple times, I can do it again, I thought, my stomach rumbling agreement.

Once that was done, I pulled out the bright blue tarp from my backpack, setting it several feet away. I quickly piled as many leaves and debris on it as possible, to mask the blue, only leaving a small place in the middle to clean the rodent. Then I got to work skinning the rodent and preparing it for cooking, wrinkling my nose as I did so. The smell was not pleasant, nor was the sight. But it was necessary, so I pushed aside any odd queasiness and tried not to breathe through my nose as I worked.

Now it was time to get the fire started.

I glanced around the woods nervously. I knew it was daytime, and I was trying my hardest to create a fire that would only cause limited smoke, but I still had to be fast and put it out immediately after the meat was cooked.

I got to work, rolling the pointed stick in my hands as fast as possible into the notch on the branch, remembering the movement taught to me by the trainer.

It was tough going, but I expected that.

I persisted.

It was uncomfortable, and my arms always got tired doing this—especially given my weakness from hunger and thirst right now—but I persisted.

Sweat was already dripping down my temples and back as the morning sun was slowly rising—but I persisted.

The more I tried, the more the memory of the correct movements came back to me, and I remembered how I'd done this on the several previous occasions when I'd succeeded.

I remembered how I'd prepared for exactly this moment.

And then, I got an ember.

I hoped any nearby cameras caught the triumphant look on my face.

Just a couple minutes later I had successfully transferred the ember to the nest of tinder I'd made, and slowly built it up into a small fire. If the trainer was watching this, I hoped they were proud.

I quickly made a spit using some nearby branches, and set the parts of the rodent I'd deemed edible to cook over the small fire. While it was cooking, I brushed off the tarp, rolling it up and returning it to my backpack, then shifted from foot to foot anxiously.

It was only a small amount of meat, and I knew it wouldn't take long to cook, but my nervousness still had my heart pounding. I glanced around furtively every few seconds, worried a tribute was going to charge through the trees at any moment.

But nobody showed up, and soon after, I deemed the meat cooked enough. I quickly took the spit off the fire. The fire was still quite small – I hadn't added more fuel than necessary. I made sure to thoroughly put it out by kicking dirt on it to smother it, stirring the embers with a stick to make sure they were doused, and then throwing even more dirt on it.

That had to be enough, I thought, examining my work when I was done; I couldn't afford to linger.

And my stomach couldn't wait any longer.

I ate the rodent as I set off again, generally northeast (or so I hoped). The meat was relatively dry, and had a bland taste, but it was food. I was so ravenous I finished it in a few bites, blowing on the still-hot food and then wincing when it burned the roof of my mouth. It wasn't even enough to be considered a full meal, but right now, it was all I had.

I licked my fingers clean when I was done, once again thinking of how Minodora was probably revolted by my manners, and finding some amusement in the thought. I was still very hungry, but the edge had been taken off.

For now, though, a small amount of relief was uncurling within me. I'd managed to put some of my survival skills to good use, which would hopefully impress some Sponsors, as well. I had some basic supplies. I was making progress.

Still, despite the things that were going right so far, I couldn't relax. Because I knew that, at any second, another tribute or the Gamemakers could suddenly make everything very, very wrong.

…

About a half-hour later, I fortunately found another small plant with the bulbs of water. I drained it pretty quickly—after some trial and error, I figured out that the easiest way to get the most water was using the tip of the knife to bore a tiny hole at the top of the bulb, which seemed to be the thinnest part of the shell. Then I could just drink the liquid from the top without wasting a drop.

Unfortunately, this plant only had a few of the precious bulbs, and was the smallest I'd seen so far. After the entire night without water, I was still very dehydrated after draining it. I'd need to locate several more.

I decided to take a quick rest a short while after, in order to plan my next move. The forest was continuing to thin around me, which meant progress was much quicker than the previous two days. And, to my relief, with the decreased density of the forest seemed to come fewer insects buzzing about.

However, as the undergrowth kept thinning, the danger of another tribute spotting me from a further distance was increasing. I had carried my knife in one hand, my walking stick still in the other, to try to make me feel safer. The thought of being more and more exposed made my skin prickle with unease.

Assuming I was going in the right direction, I had to be getting close to the edge of the forest.

I played with my ring, contemplating. How should I approach this? I didn't want to leave the forest yet; the desert had no cover, and I wasn't sure where the cornucopia was located to know exactly where the center of the arena was. I could be too far north or south. Part of me wanted to skirt just inside the forest, but I felt like there was a higher chance of tributes being camped out there.

A strange sound interrupted my thinking.

An odd, loud, almost grinding sound. Like something heavy was being turned, or lifted, or opened. The forest around me momentarily quieted slightly, save for the birds startled out of their trees.

I stood up immediately, knife clutched in my hand, holding it out as if I could fight off the noise.

It wasn't as obnoxious or reverberating as a cannon; my assumption was that it was coming from a nearby source, and not something the entire Arena could hear.

But still, it was loud. Who knew how many tributes had heard it? And, more importantly: what the hell was it?

I stood there, listening intently. No more grinding noises followed, but I didn't trust anything about this. There was no such thing as "innocuous" when it came to the Gamemakers.

At first, as I waited—incredibly tense, the knife in a death grip—nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

But then, as more and more seconds trickled by, I began to hear it. I was incredulous at first, feeling like I was mishearing things. It was barely audible initially. But, as I stood there, still straining to hear the faint background noise amidst the sounds of wildlife resuming around me, the sound increased in volume, little by little, until I was absolutely sure that I was not just hearing things.

A river. Close by, and flowing fairly quickly, judging by the fact that I could hear it over the ambient sounds of the forest.

And, since I hadn't heard the slightest indication of a river prior to the strange grinding sound, I could only assume that it had just been manually activated by the Gamemakers.

Not for the first time, I hesitated. This could be another trap. The Gamemakers were probably hoping to lure me, along with other nearby tributes, to the river. On the other hand, it was the third day of the Games and I'd yet to find a water source besides the strange bushes. With how green this forest was, the Gamemakers had clearly been holding back to not give us immediately available resources. Maybe, now that it was day three, they'd decided this was something they were willing to give.

Despite drinking from the water plant this morning, I was still parched, and my mouth felt even dryer hearing the river. It would be nice to be able to completely satiate my thirst instead of relying on sporadic, small bouts of water.

Of course, this was all assuming the river was safe to drink. It sounded fast moving, so I knew that meant it had a higher chance of being drinkable, but I couldn't just blindly trust that.

I glanced around, still debating. I knew rivers always flowed downhill. From my vantage point yesterday, it had looked like the desert was the low point of the Arena, so presumably, I'd still reach it if I were following the river. It could be smart to stick close to a water source and try to replenish as much as possible, since the other half of the Arena might be scarce of the resource. I was still hoping I wouldn't actually have to go into the desert at any point, but it may be better to prepare for the worst.

And still. This could be a trap.

After another moment passed by with more intense internal debate, I decided that I would approach the river, but stay hidden in the undergrowth, and observe first. The babbling sounds of the river current would hopefully mask any noise I made when I got close, though I realized this meant it could hide the presence of other tributes, too.

All in all, turning my back on a potential water source in an oppressively hot, dry Arena just seemed dense. Especially when it was so close.

My body—my parched mouth and throat—begged me to go.

And…worst case scenario, I had a knife, I had a few supplies, and I could climb.

Mind made up, I tentatively set off in the direction of the sound. It was almost directly north of my planned trajectory, and I hoped it wouldn't take me too off course.

I'd already been hesitating to come up with a plan, anyway. Knowing where the cornucopia was would help immensely, but I just hadn't been able to spot it yesterday. And was impossible to know exactly where the "center" was, or where Cato had started, because I didn't know the size of the Arena overall.

I treaded as lightly as possible as I approached the flowing river. I went above and beyond my former cautionary tactics -trying to use tree trunks as cover where possible, going out of my way to skirt by bushes to minimize the amount of noise from breaking through undergrowth. As I got closer and closer, though, the oddly soothing sound of the river helped disguise my approach.

And then I spotted it through the trees ahead, the rippling surface reflecting the beaming sunlight.

As my plan dictated, I held back, selecting a rather dense patch of taller bushes to help shelter me as I observed the flowing water. After several minutes, though, I didn't see anything unusual that stood out, or hear approaching tributes.

The dryness of my mouth was even more apparent now. It was hard to resist rushing down there, taking huge mouthfuls of the fast-moving river. With the speed of the current, logic told me it was safe to drink.

But I couldn't be sure.

I glanced around, skimming the area. I was actually near a point where two smaller rivers met to form a bigger one. From my left, the river flowed relatively slowly, moving eastward (downhill, I knew). But a short distance away, to my right, that slow-moving river met with a second, wider and more turbulent river that was flowing from the north. After the two streams met, they formed a unified, broader river that continued in the easternly direction. The way I needed to go, I thought.

Where the two rivers collided, the river became wider and more violent. The water bubbled across, around and over jutting rocks and logs, creating small but noisy rapids that explained why I heard it without being extremely close to it. While the water wasn't deep, I knew crossing would take caution. It would be far safer to cross right in front of me if I had to, or further upriver towards my left.

Drinking the clear water wasn't the only instinct pulling at me. I desperately wanted to scrub some of the sweat and dirt and who-knows-what-else off my skin. I was sure I smelled absolutely awful by now.

Tentatively—ready to flee at the slightest provocation—I took a few steps out of the cover, approaching the river. The ground sloped ever-so-slightly down from the edge of the nearest trees to the water. The trees were incredibly sparse along the riverbank, so it was incredibly exposed. I would have to make this quick or risk being spotted.

The clear water, glimmering in the light of the sun, was just so tempting. I crouched down, reaching my hand out, touching the cold, rushing water with one fingertip. It didn't sting or burn, but that didn't mean it was drinkable.

It did mean I could clean up a bit. I set my knife down and then reached my hands out, immersing them into the cool liquid, a relief in this intense heat. I splashed some on my face, trying to rinse some of the dirt and grime away, repeating the process with the back of my neck. The cool liquid soaked into my skin, parts of my hair and the collar of my shirt. I repeated the process a couple more times, until I felt slightly better.

I needed to immerse fully to bathe, but I just didn't feel comfortable doing that right now, when there could be others nearby.

I still didn't risk drinking it yet, though my mouth was begging me to.

Thoughts of drinking the water were momentarily forgotten when I raised my head, wiping at my face, and my eyes caught something I hadn't seen before. Something just across the river, slightly to the right, almost immediately adjacent to the place where the two rivers collided.

A fruit tree? It certainly looked like it. I recognized the circular, orangish-pinkish fruit from the edible plants station, even though I didn't think trees like this grew back home. I would need to cut a piece of fruit open and check the inside, also examining the seeds to make sure.

My mouth watered at the thought, my stomach agreeing with the urge to go pick the tree clean of fruit. The rodent from this morning had only staved off the hunger, not satiated it.

I glanced down—the river in front of me was quite shallow, even in the middle, and I could see through the clear water to the bottom. The current wasn't strong enough right here to be threatening.

I looked around, with trepidation. Still, nobody else in sight. Once again, I had potentially found a valuable resource, and despite the potential danger, I couldn't let it go to waste.

I tentatively walked forward and began to cross the river, using the walking stick to test the ground immediately in front of me. I didn't trust the Gamemakers not to pull me into a trap, even now. There could be pitfalls in this river for all I knew.

But I crossed the river without incident (though I disliked the way the cold water seeped into my socks, the boots themselves seemed to hold up pretty well even when soaking wet), and shortly after, I was at the tree in question. I quickly cut off one of the fruits and then sliced it in two. I carefully examined the inside, and the seeds, confirming it was the plant that I recognized from training. Fortunate, indeed.

I eagerly sank my teeth in without further hesitation. My teeth broke through the skin into the tender flesh of the fruit underneath. A burst of sweetness flooded my mouth, the juices dribbling down my chin. I almost closed my eyes in the sheer joy of eating it; it was the best thing I'd had since getting here. I quickly finished off the fruit, far too fast to be in good manners, licking my fingers when I was done yet again. There were several more fruits on the tree and I quickly removed each of them, stuffing them into my backpack for later. That could certainly tide me over for the rest of day, and likely a lot of tomorrow.

I felt a wave of relief. Maybe I should eat a second one now? I thought. Or, maybe I should decide which way to go first. Then I could eat on the way.

I glanced around—after the two smaller rivers combined, they flowed eastward, which was the direction I wanted to go. I could cross back over to where I started, go a bit deeper into the forest until I was less exposed, and then follow the sounds of the river while trying to stay as out-of-sight as possible.

I shouldered my backpack again. That seemed like the best plan.

The sound of an agonized male scream abruptly cut off any further attempts at planning.

I startled, almost dropping the knife in the process. My stomach churned as adrenaline coursed through me.

That had to be close. I knew it was pretty damn unlikely that no other tributes would be close by. It almost sounded like it came from the southwest, or maybe even in the general direction I'd just come from.

I stepped back within the shelter of the trees, glancing around, ready to climb or take off running.

I should climb, I thought, just like yesterday, before the enemy can see me.

But then, before I could move, I heard it. I didn't see the source, but a strange sound pressed in on my ears.

Not the sound of a cannon. Not the sound of other tributes.

A strange, oddly discordant, buzzing sound. Too loud just to be a few insects flitting about, and it kept growing louder.

And louder.

A chill ran down my spine, and I hesitated, now doubting if climbing was my best course of action here. What the hell was that?

In a panic, I yanked my head from right to left, trying to spot the source of the buzzing, raking my eyes up the river I had crossed to get to the fruit tree.

Another yell from the male tribute permeated the air; it was oddly reminiscent of yesterday, with me hearing the screaming of another tribute, and having no idea where it was coming from.

I was watching intently, pulse pounding, poised to sprint in whatever direction was safest.

I should run, right? I don't know what it is, but I don't want to be anywhere near it…

But I needed to know where exactly the danger was, in order to know which way to run to distance myself from it.

And then, right as the buzzing noise was so loud as to be oppressive, I saw him—the tribute, emerging from the forest upstream, from the southwest. Only a short distance upriver from where I'd been before I crossed. He burst out of the trees, stumbling, falling to his knees, glancing behind him in a panic. From my short distance away, I could see a bleeding gash through his shirt, and multiple other bloody gashes on his arms. It only took me a split second to recognize the man as Rudd's surviving partner before my eyes flicked over to what was chasing him.

They exploded out of the trees, swarming around the kneeling tribute—a thick, moving black cloud of massive, flying, grotesque insects. Most likely bloodthirsty, Capitol muttations. They were what was creating the cacophony of buzzing. The man cried out again as the creatures enveloped him. It was hard to see clearly with the amount of muttations, but I could tell they were tearing into him, judging by the gashes I'd seen.

I froze in place, just for a brief moment, terror fixing my feet to the ground. As I watched, nausea threatening to overtake me, the bloody tribute dragged himself to his feet and hurled himself forward, splashing into the shallow river, throwing himself into it as if that would stop the bugs. Trying to escape them with his last bit of strength, even when I knew he was probably only able to use one hand. But the water was shallow, and as he fell to his knees again, he was only partially immersed. The gigantic insects merely followed him and then swirled around the parts of him they could reach.

I heard his screams of agony ringing through the air, but I had already wrenched myself away, ready to run. I had seen enough.

I had no idea if the bugs had noticed me yet, but I wasn't going to stay and find out. That tribute was far too close and I had absolutely no doubt the Gamemakers could send the swarm after me next, if they wanted to. Climbing wasn't an option. Hiding wasn't an option.

I was located on the swath of land between the two streams, right near where they collided. I couldn't go south or west, as that would lead me straight into the buzzing insects. Going east would require me crossing the river flowing from the north, which was wider and had a much faster current. It could be dangerous to cross, and it would also waste time; I didn't want to be anywhere near the bugs when the cannon went off.

North it was.

I took off, sprinting north along the riverbank, keeping the river at my right.

The man's agonized cries of pain followed me as I ran.

If not for my abject terror of the gigantic swarm behind me, I would've tried to run deeper into the woods, as the trees were pretty thin along the edge of the river, and most of the bank was exposed.

But right now, the riverbank was my safest bet. It was relatively level and less impeded than running between the trees. I could run faster here. I had to put distance between myself and those things, and quickly.

Heart hammering in my chest, breaths coming out in shallow, panicked pants, I ran as fast as I could. Fear and adrenaline gave me renewed energy, even after the last two days of misery. I tried to watch the ground as much as I could, to avoid the chances of my falling, but I still stumbled a few times and almost fell. This terrain wasn't intended for sprinting. Nor were these shoes.

I glanced over my shoulder. The swarm wasn't following me, from what I could tell, yet…

The agonized screams ceased.

The cannon went off.

Shit. I felt renewed horror wash over me; was I far enough away yet? How fast could they fly? Had they noticed me?

I couldn't even think about other tributes right now. My mind was focused on one thing and one thing only: escaping from the insects.

I ran, and I ran, keeping the river at my right, the tree line just at my left. My chest was already burning; the dehydration had left me weak and with less endurance than normal.

I glanced behind me; I couldn't see anything, and I could have sworn the buzzing was fainter… but in my mind, I could still picture the tribute crashing into the river, the massive winged insects descending upon him hungrily. Eating him alive. That could be me next.

Terror clawed at my throat, forcing my legs onward. Sweat was pouring down me in waves. It stuck to my skin.

I barely saw a branch hanging out towards the river, directly in my path; I swerved to the right as much as possible, but I still felt something sharp nick at the skin just below my left shoulder, tearing through the thin fabric of my shirt sleeve. Grimacing in pain, and biting back a yelp, I continued on.

How much longer could I sprint like this? Not much. My breathing was heavy; painful. My lungs ached with the effort.

Collapsing out here would be dangerous.

I was becoming more and more worried about drawing attention to myself; were other tributes nearby too? Were they hearing the noise of my frantic sprinting and panting over the river? Maybe not, but I was so obviously in the open here. Perhaps I should re-enter the tree-line.

I turned to do so, slowing my pace marginally, but I had gotten distracted by my planning and wasn't watching the ground carefully enough. My foot caught on something, and I was thrown off-balance.

I stumbled a few steps, trying to catch myself instead of crashing to the ground. A sharp cry of pain escaped my lips as I brushed past a bush, sharp thorns catching against my pants and raking along one of my legs. I threw my arms out in front of me instinctively—right hand open-palmed (walking stick forgotten at the fruit tree), left still clutching the knife, just barely avoiding dropping it. I crashed heavily into a nearby tree, fortunately catching myself instead of running into it face-first. The bark scraped up against my right palm and side, where I'd caught myself against the trunk. I panted heavily for a moment, lungs burning as I sucked in air, straining to determine if I could hear the bugs.

The buzzing was gone now…I thought…but fear still lurked just underneath the surface. What if they were chasing me right now?

I couldn't stop, at least not yet, but I knew I couldn't openly sprint like before. My whole body was trembling. I winced, noticing the sharp stings along my left leg. The thorns had torn at me, but I couldn't assess my injuries now. I needed to put more distance between myself and the insect muttations. I could still picture the horrific way that tribute had died.

I was going out of my way by heading north, but I couldn't turn back, at least not yet. I had to be sure I was far enough away.

I pushed myself off of the tree, still panting, and turned to continue my trek north. This time I adjusted my trajectory so I was slightly deeper in the forest, still guided by the sounds of the river to my right. Progress was slower now that I wasn't along the riverbank, closer to a slow jog than anything, but at least I was still moving.

After several more minutes, I slowly began to breathe easier. I didn't hear any more buzzing. And I didn't hear any more cannons. Were they gone?

I slowed my pace to a walk again, coated in sweat. The various scrapes were aching, especially the ones on my left leg and below my left shoulder, but I knew it was better than the alternative.

The image of the bloody, terrified tribute surrounded by the grotesque insects sprang to mind, unbidden, as well as his panicked cries as he stumbled into the river.

I felt a tug in my gut, and brushed them away.

But, like the girl's screams from yesterday, I knew his death would stick with me.

…

Perhaps fifteen minutes later, I decided if I didn't hear them by now, the bugs weren't following me. I needed to check my injuries.

After a couple of minutes of making sure the coast was clear, I made my way back to the riverbank. Once I reached the water, I quickly examined myself. There was a fairly deep cut on my left arm, just below my shoulder, where the branch had scraped me as I was running. I had some scrapes and probably a growing bruise on my right palm, arm and hip from where I'd collided with the tree, but they were minor.

I winced as I glanced down at the side of my lower left leg. There were three bleeding cuts from where the thorns had torn through my pants, the blood soaking into the nearby fabric. They stung worse than anything else. Two of the cuts were fairly large. Not life-threatening, but painful. Regardless, I was more worried about infection than anything. It would've been nice to have a first aid kit to cleanse the wound, and I'd have to keep an eye out for plants that could help.

For now, I'd just have to clean them in the clear water of the river. That was the best I could do.

And hope the thorns weren't poisonous…

I kneeled first, setting my knife down on the riverbank and rinsing off my face and neck again in the river, letting the cool liquid soothe me as it had earlier. Then I cupped water in my right hand, splashing it against the cut on my left arm multiple times to wash some of the blood away, gritting my teeth when it smarted.

I stood up, and carefully took a step into the river, then another, once I determined that the current was calmer here. As soon as I reached the point where the water enveloped the cuts, I stiffened, a hiss of pain escaping my lips. While the sharp coldness of the water was a good thing, it hurt.

As soon as I determined that I'd cleaned my various scrapes and cuts as best I could, I made my way back to land, uncomfortable being out in the open any longer.

Now what? I pondered, glancing ahead. At some point, I needed to head east again, which would require crossing the river once more. I had spent my days in the Arena slowly heading that way. I had already gone a bit off course with this whole river excursion. But, right now, there was no chance in hell I was turning around and going back down the river, the way I'd came.

The bugs seemed gone; but what if there were more? Or what if it was a trap that was triggered any time a tribute went into a certain area, and Rudd's partner had activated it? It could've been a one-time occurrence, but I couldn't bank on that.

I skimmed the area in contemplation, deciding whether to cross the river now. I thought it was doable, though it would be easier if I could find somewhere shallower without going too much further out of my way. Squinting, I glanced ahead, as far north as I could see.

Further ahead, it looked like the river forked again. One side continued north, but the other went east. Exactly the way I needed to go. I could cross there instead, and then follow that river east for a while.

I headed back into the tree line, but stayed as close to the riverbank as I dared, striding north, continuing upriver. I tried to ignore my stinging cuts as I meandered through the forest as silently as I possibly could.

I knew that soon, very soon, I would need to rest. I could more fully determine my next move from there.

I reached the fork in the river a few minutes later. The stream that broke off and ran east was even narrower, more of a creek than a river. Hopefully it would be quieter and draw less attention.

Even better, just across the way—in the swath of land that was nestled between the river and the creek running east—I saw a tree with a wide, gnarled trunk reminiscent of my first night in the Arena. This could be the perfect spot to rest.

The river was calmer and narrower here than the place I'd been afraid to cross when the bugs emerged from the forest, so (using a new walking stick I fashioned from a nearby branch) I exited the cover of the forest and crossed it quickly. I reached the tree I'd spotted and cleared the ground as much as I could then sat down heavily, examining the various cuts and injuries again.

Though annoying, and painful, everything was superficial. The cuts on my left shoulder and leg could become infected if I weren't careful, though. A couple of them were still bleeding, some of the scarlet soaking into the torn edges of my clothing adjacent to the cuts. I hoped the worst looking one didn't need stitches; it seemed borderline. Unfortunately, none of the plants around me were medicinal. And I knew just pressing dirty leaves to a wound was a bad idea.

I had sat there, debating what to do for several minutes when I heard a noise that was out of place: a sudden set of hacking, wheezing coughing that broke out nearby. A tribute.

Alarm raced through me yet again.

I tensed, my grip on the knife becoming iron.

Seriously?

The coughing subsided, but I could hear the tribute a short distance away, coming from due north, as best I could tell. It sounded like they were struggling through the undergrowth, but it was hard to hear much from my current location. I strained my ears. By the sound of this tribute, they were having a hard time keeping up a steady pace. Slowly—as silently as I could—I stood up, prepared to climb the tree.

But then, the noise stopped. As if the tribute had stopped moving. There was no way they could see me from here, so I knew it wasn't that.

What were they doing?

Cautiously—as cautiously as I could, I crept to the side, peeking out from beyond the large tree trunk.

That's when I saw her, out of the cover of the trees and undergrowth, kneeling on the riverbank, and taking in mouthfuls of the clear liquid.

Autumn.

Relief crashed over me. That explained the coughing. But I also knew—well, I was almost positive—that she wasn't much of a danger to me. Not just because she was quiet and gentle, but because she was frail, and ill. I doubt she'd want to take the fight, even if she could.

And, looking at Autumn's hunched, pale form, I didn't see a weapon. She looked exhausted and beaten, and she was gulping at the water in earnest.

For a split second, I debating not making my presence known. It was that tiny, selfish survivalist part of me, that didn't want to do anything with even the tiniest bit of risk.

But then I knew I was being ridiculous. She was from my district. Two sets of eyes were better than one.

I knew we couldn't ally for long—Cato would kill her on sight, no doubt—but surely, traveling together for just a short while wasn't a bad thing? Or maybe we could at least try to help each other temporarily, let the other know what we'd seen in the Arena so far, then go our separate ways if need be.

She was one of the only people I could run into who wouldn't be trying to kill me.

I put my backpack on again, still gripping my knife, and delicately stepped through the undergrowth towards the riverbank where she was crouched.

I emerged from the trees quickly; Autumn had started glancing around, hearing the noise as I approached, and then I called her name as softly as I could.

Her bright blue eyes widened when they fell on me, skimming both me and the weapon I clutched in one hand; terrified, then incredulous, then relieved, then indecipherable.

I tried to smile, but I was sure it came across as a grimace. "Don't worry," I said, my voice coming out raspy and worn down. I stopped walking, lowering my hands to my sides, wanting her to know I wasn't a threat. "I'm not going to attack you. I was relieved when I saw it was you."

Autumn's expression became one of tentative relief again, though a hint of nervousness remained, and then her eyes took in my bedraggled appearance in more detail. "Are you okay?" Her voice sounded weak, and tremulous.

I sighed. "It could be worse." I then scanned the small girl. "Are you?" Despite my no-doubt disheveled appearance, I knew she looked far worse. She was trembling, there were dark circles under her eyes, and she had that sickly pallor I'd seen before. Her reddish-brown hair was plastered against her cheeks and forehead. She looked like she was close to collapsing.

Autumn hesitated, then slowly shook her head.

"To be honest, I…don't know how much further I can go." She looked resigned. As if she were already fully accepting of her death.

Pity struck at me, and I tried to ignore it. "It is pretty miserable out here. You sure that water's safe to drink?"

Autumn nodded, head bobbing weakly. "I've been following this river since the first day."

I was curious, because I had assumed the Gamemakers had just now activated it. I jerked my head back towards the tree I'd been sheltering behind. "There's a tree over there, where I was resting when I heard you. You can join me if you want. I promise I won't attack – I'll put the knife in my backpack if that makes you feel better."

But Autumn was standing, slowly, almost painfully. A grim expression formed on her face. "You don't seem like the type to attack someone from your district behind their back. But even if you were…well, it's only a matter of time for me, anyway."

There it was again. The pity, the sympathy, that I tried vainly to swallow.

"Can you make it?" I didn't want to be patronizing, but she looked like she was barely holding it together.

Some strange expression, almost like embarrassment mixed with pride, crossed Autumn's face. "It's just over there, right? I can make it."

"Yes. I'm going to drink from the river, though. I didn't know if it was safe 'til now."

I quickly made my way over to the portion of the river nearest me, setting the knife close next to my leg just in case. I scooped some liquid in my hands, draining a large mouthful, over and over again, until my burning thirst was finally quenched. I could sense Autumn observing me, waiting cautiously, as I continued to take gulps of the precious water. The coolness settled in my throat and stomach.

For the first time since day one, I was no longer experiencing even the slightest discomfort from dehydration.

When I stood up, Autumn tentatively began to walk towards me, steps shaky. Unable to bear the sight of her frail movements, I turned away, leading her towards the spot I'd chosen to rest at.

Once she reached the hollow, Autumn slid down to the ground, back against the tree, legs stretched out in front of her. Exhaustion was etched into her form.

I observed her for a moment. I'd only been in the Arena for a couple of days, but being around someone else already felt…strange. Out of place.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, unzipping my pack, and holding out a piece of the round fruit.

She shook her head. "That's yours," she responded quietly.

"There's a ton of them in here. I can spare one. I ate this morning too," I insisted, still holding it out expectantly.

Autumn watched me for several seconds, conflict crossing her pale features.

"Take it."

She reached out, taking the fruit in one fragile, delicate hand, then bringing it to her mouth and biting into it. I could see the immediate relief in her expression as she began to dig into the fruit.

"Thank you," she said quietly, when she had finished. "You didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did. You're from home. We've got to look out for each other in here."

The ghost of a smile tugged at Autumn's lips. "A lot of people probably wouldn't agree with you on that."

"Then they have terrible opinions," I responded, shrugging.

The ghost of a smile became a bit more noticeable, but then she leaned her head back against the tree. Her eyelids fluttered, and I could tell she wanted to rest but was trying to keep it together.

"Want to rest for a bit? I can keep watch."

She looked guilty, but I was insistent.

And, a few moments later, Autumn had fallen fast asleep. Like this, she looked even more fragile and childlike. I had a sense of déjà vu; it wasn't the first time I'd had the thought that Autumn seemed younger than me sometimes, despite the fact that she was a few years older.

And I realized that she really was putting herself entirely at my mercy. I was trustworthy and knew I wouldn't turn on her, and I hoped she knew that too…but I remembered her words from earlier.

It's only a matter of time for me, anyway.

I leaned back against the tree. It was still early afternoon—not even quite noon yet—but I'd had enough excitement that my body was already worn out. I wouldn't sleep, but I would try to get some energy back. Especially after finding a source of water, finally.

I ate another piece of the fruit, checked my supplies, then began to plan my next move.

…

I let Autumn sleep for a little over two hours before I decided to wake her. I knew we should get going soon. It was well after one-o-clock, by my estimation. If we could just walk for a couple of hours, I'd be willing to take another break for her. I really wanted to make some more eastern progress.

Her blue eyes were still slightly hazy, though she seemed marginally better than before when I woke her. She blinked, glancing around, the confusion quicky dissipating as she clearly remembered our encounter.

"Hey. Do you feel any better?" I tried to keep my voice quiet.

"A little," she responded softly, matching my tone.

"I know it's difficult, but I'd like to travel a bit further east today, along this creek, if you want to come with me. We can eat again, first. I know you're…tired. I just don't want to stay this close to the river. I'm worried about running into other tributes. And we still need to find our partners."

"But your partner…" the small girl trailed off, fear evident in her eyes.

"I know. I won't expect you to stick around if we find him."

"No offense, it's just…I'd want to be far away from you before we run into him. I don't even want to risk him seeing me." Autumn looked almost embarrassed, but I understood.

"I get it. I have no idea where he is, though. Maybe we could just travel a bit further, until you're tired, then? And depending what time it is, split ways after that, or take shelter for the night," I responded, reviewing my plan from earlier.

I would fully understand if she didn't want to accompany me. The survivalist part of me knew she might slow me down quite a bit, yet, I knew I'd also feel guilty leaving her behind. There was also the tiny—very selfish—part of my brain that didn't want to be alone in here. Autumn's presence was more calming than I'd realized, despite my concern for her.

Autumn was contemplating, for a long moment. "I also just…don't want to slow you down."

It was as if she'd read my thoughts. "I'd rather not leave you behind. But if it gets to be a problem, we can split up."

She hesitated a moment longer, before nodding. Then something in her expression tightened. When Autumn spoke again, there was an undercurrent of pain in her voice. "If I'm being honest, it'll be good to travel with someone in here. For however long I have left. Please, just don't…take any risks on account of me. Leave me behind as soon as there's danger."

The words made something tighten painfully inside me, and the sympathy reared its head yet again. "Don't think like that. You don't know that it'll come to that."

Her face, then, became completely grim. "It's the Hunger Games. I'll always expect the worst."

I couldn't argue with that. I stayed quiet for a moment, toying with my ring.

But then, after a brief silence, the curiosity finally got the better of me.

"You don't have to answer this, but…do you know where you started, in the Arena? What all have you seen?" I was hoping to get some idea of the parts of the Arena I hadn't yet witnessed, the potential pitfalls.

Autumn's small face screwed up in concentration. "I think…I was pretty far north. I actually started in this grassy plain area. I could see the forest a ways away. And there was a dry riverbed. I remembered what Blight said about a water source, and decided just to follow that."

"And it led all the way to here?"

Autumn nodded. "Yes, but the river was empty until yesterday. Then yesterday morning, around the same time as today, they turned it on. But only for a few hours."

Weird. "When they turned it on yesterday, did it make the same loud noise as today? Did you hear that?"

"It made a noise, but definitely not as loud as today. And there was less water in it. It was very shallow everywhere I saw."

I felt my stomach sink a bit, as some of my earlier suspicions were confirmed. "They wanted to draw more attention to the river today, then. Probably because there were more tributes around to hear it."

Autumn's eyes flashed with nervousness, and I knew her thoughts were echoing mine.

But my curiosity still wasn't sated. As awful as it was, I was actually surprised Autumn made it this far. I supposed if she had started due north, she hadn't gone as far as I had. But still. Trekking through this much forest, in the heat, with her illness?

"You said you started in a grassy area? How big was it, could you tell?"

"Not that big. I could see a tribute really far away, towards the other side, but they didn't come for me. Once I started following the river, I hit the forest within a mile or so."

I made a noise of disgust, thinking about this blasted, miserably hot sea of vegetation. "I started on the west side of the area, but in a tiny clearing. Not a grassy plain like you're talking about. And there was no trail, it was so hard to walk through, took ages just to navigate. Could barely see where I was going. This heat made everything worse. Though I guess you know what that's like."

But Autumn was shaking her head. "It wasn't like that for me, not at first. It wasn't really that hot until I'd been traveling in the forest for a couple of hours. It got hotter the further south I went. And most of the time I traveled along the riverbank, so it wasn't too hard to walk."

Lucky you, I thought, feeling an unfair sense of resentment. Not that it was her fault. It explained how she had managed to travel this distance; she'd clearly had a much easier path to follow.

"Weren't you worried that traveling along the river was risky? It's pretty open."

Autumn bit her lip. "A little, but I knew I'd get lost otherwise. I tried to stay close to the trees. I found one of those fruit trees like the fruit you have, and a few berries too. Though I could only carry some of the fruits with me without a backpack."

I outright scowled, then. "I found a berry bush or two, but today was the first time I saw this river. I drank from these weird little plants that held water."

"I guess I got lucky. I found vines I could drink from the first day. Though I haven't seen any in a long time. Not since I'd moved further south and it got hotter." Autumn's eyes flicked to my backpack, then the knife clutched in my hand. "How did you get those? Sponsors?"

I snorted, the mental image coming back to me. "I had to climb from tree to tree over a field full of traps…more specifically, geysers of poisonous gas. Not kidding," I added at the end, seeing her expression.

"Wow," she said quietly, eyes wide, after a moment. "Climbing came in handy, then."

"Yeah. I can't wait to tell my partner how useful my skills actually are," I bit out, before remembering I was on camera and I probably shouldn't be implying anything negative about Cato.

Then again, why should I care? He was probably saying much worse about me.

"I…" Autumn started, then trailed off nervously, before hesitantly speaking again. "There is one really bad thing. The reason I kept going south, even after I had the berries for food and the river as a water source. At first, I just wanted to set up camp and stay, since I had resources, but…"

My stomach sank. "What was it?"

I could've sworn she was even paler now; legitimate fear hovering in the depths of her eyes. "It was yesterday evening. A couple of hours before dark. I'd made a basic shelter yesterday afternoon. I was really exhausted, because…well, you know why. I figured I could just stay there a while."

She looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. "Anyway, the forest got all quiet. I just knew something was wrong. It was like…like all the animals were hiding. You know how sometimes they do that back home, before a storm?"

I nodded, indicating she should go on.

"I started looking around the area…and saw this weird fog, or mist, in the distance. It looked strange. I had already planned to run, but then I heard it…screaming. A boy screaming. And then I heard a…a cannon. It was horrible."

I, myself, had heard someone screaming before a cannon. Twice now. So, I could relate to Autumn, on some level. I had an immediate flashback to the strange mist I'd seen in the distance, to the north, when scouting the Arena last night. Was that what Autumn was talking about? I had heard a cannon a little while after leaving the clearing.

But she wasn't done recounting the story. "I ran, down the river. And kept running. Until I thought I was going to pass out if I didn't stop. When I finally couldn't run more, I still thought that it was going to catch me. Or that someone else would find me and kill me in my sleep. I was too tired to care." Autumn took a deep, shaky breath. Even the effort of recounting the story seemed to have tired her out. "But it was gone. And still, I can't stop thinking about that boy…" she trailed off, wincing. I knew the sounds were probably replaying in her head, leaving a lasting impact.

"I'm sorry you had to experience that," I said, softly. Because what else could I even say here?

"I'm just lucky it didn't reach me first," she replied, almost tonelessly. "But this morning, after I'd recovered some, I wanted to try to walk a little more. Just in case…in case it came back."

"Well, I'm glad you did. Because we may not have run into each other otherwise." I tried to offer her a small smile, though I was sure it came out strained. Because I was hearing that girl's screams in my ears again, and now I was also hearing more screams, belonging to the man killed by the insect swarm.

Autumn looked like she wanted to return my smile, but couldn't. And I suspected she was still hearing screams in her head, too.

…

We ate, then—I insisted that Autumn take another of the fruits from my backpack, because all she had to eat were a few measly berries she had been saving for an emergency and I had several pieces of fruit left—and set off.

I knew it was hard on her. But I wanted to at least make a tiny bit more progress. Before…well, wherever our plans led. In the back of my mind, I knew we would have to part ways before too long.

Needless to say, it was slow going. Especially since I insisted we stay under the canopy of the trees, where it was harder to navigate than along the creek bed. We kept the creek a short distance to our right, letting its distant sounds guide us.

I was not the most patient person, but it had been my idea (and to be honest, it was nice to have another pair of eyes around) so sympathy won out over impatience.

We traveled for a little over an hour, then took another long break, and then traveled for another thirty minutes. There were numerous, much smaller breaks interspersed between. Given that, and the fact that Autumn was only capable of a slow pace, meant we did not get very far.

We did do one thing that lifted my spirits, during our long break – we approached the creek, so that I could rinse myself off more thoroughly. It was only a foot or two deep, but I wanted to cleanse more than just my face and wounds. And now I had someone that could keep watch for me.

I really hated stripping down to my underwear for the cameras. Even though I couldn't see them, I was sure there were some around. But my desire to feel less sweaty and disgusting won out in the end. This was still modest by the Capitol's standards. There was zero chance I was getting fully naked, though. The idea of fully exposing my body to countless people…the thought alone made me blush with humiliation.

Autumn kept an eye out as I stripped to my underwear, immersed into the deepest part of the creek, and washed up as much as possible. I even got on my hands and knees to immerse my hair as well, trying to scrub at it before putting it back up in a bun similar to what Orea had done. I then returned the favor, keeping watch so Autumn could bathe, too. The sun dried us out pretty quickly afterwards, though my underwear was still damp when I put the clothing back on over it. It was the most refreshed I'd felt in a while, the experience only marred by the horrible stinging of my various cuts.

Already, there was a clear advantage to having someone else around. Even if she wasn't able to move very fast or very far.

Overall, at least we made some progress. We were trending eastward, even if the going was sluggish. I allowed as many stops as Autumn needed, because I didn't want to make her condition worse, and I didn't want her to collapse. The food and nap seemed to have helped, but she was in a very fragile state. I was constantly keeping an eye on both her and the surroundings.

Autumn was stubborn, though, I'd give her that. And rarely complained. I made her promise to tell me if I was pushing too hard, but she kept on. I knew she probably wanted to find her partner, too. Or maybe she just didn't want to be a thorn in my plans.

That thought made me feel bad. And made me decide that I would stop early tonight, for her, and because the trees were thinning even more and I was beginning to get nervous again.

Around five-o-clock that evening (by my best estimate, anyway), I knew couldn't handle any more. Autumn must have seen the concerned look on my face as I gazed at her—or maybe she realized she was truly at her limit—because she finally admitted that she needed to stop.

We were still very close to the creek. I glanced around, debating where we could make a shelter, when her small voice interrupted me.

"You should keep going. I don't want to slow you down."

I was already shaking my head before she finished speaking. "Honestly, after the day I've had, I don't mind stopping a little early. We can plan more tomorrow."

It was true; my body was aching all over.

I knew that, in a lot of ways, Autumn wasn't wrong. She couldn't keep up with me, and had slowed my progress. But, at the same time, I couldn't just leave her like that. At least not until I had to.

And again, part of me liked having someone else around. Someone from home.

I told Autumn to stay where she was for a moment, while I found a nearby place to shelter. I had some luck—there were several larger trees she could nestle against that would keep her fairly hidden. I selected one with an indent in the trunk that was pretty well concealed by nearby undergrowth. It would have to suffice. Autumn couldn't go any further anyway. I knew she wanted to sleep along the creek, but that was too open for my liking. The shallow banks were almost entirely devoid of cover. We were still pretty close to the creek, though, just in case. I didn't want to get too far from the water source.

I glanced upward. I planned to sleep tied to a tree again because it was safer, but I didn't have enough rope for both of us to sleep in trees. Not that she'd be able to climb it anyway.

I chewed my lip, contemplating. Now that we were traveling together, it would be smart for us to alternate keeping watch overnight. I was willing to take the first watch, because I was sure Autumn needed to rest, but I wondered if she'd be able to handle staying up for a few hours in the middle of the night so that I could sleep. I hoped so…but if not, it was probably smartest for me to sleep in the tree just above her. Either way, I could keep watch pretty well from there. And we'd be minimizing the risk of being spotted by sleeping separately and building a smaller shelter.

It wouldn't do us a lot of good if our shelter was discovered and we were both caught like ensnared rabbits. Not that Autumn had many options. I just felt too…vulnerable on the ground. Especially when only one of us had a weapon.

Regardless of where we slept, it seemed reckless not to have someone staying alert.

"If I take first watch, do you think you'd be able to take second? Even if it's the middle of the night?"

Autumn nodded, looking solemn. "If I get some rest first, I should be fine. It's not like standing watch will require me to move around a lot. But if it's too much…well, I'll let you know."

I nodded in response.

Because we had time until dusk, still, I directed Autumn to tree in question and then began gathering leaves, branches, and everything else needed to make a small, rough shelter, without standing out too much.

She helped where possible, though—after my encouraging—rested against the tree while I worked. By the time I was done, I was content with my handiwork. So the shelter-making station had taught me something.

See? Survival skills aren't worthless, I thought, imagining how satisfying it would be to say that to Cato's face.

Then again, he probably had plenty of supplies. He probably had a damn sleeping bag from the Cornucopia. I felt a rush of annoyance, even though it wasn't technically his fault I'd been stranded out on the edge of the Arena.

Autumn settled against the tree, inside the small shelter while I focused on the next task—setting snares. I placed them a short distance away in two different spots, trying my best to find what looked like a game trail or somewhere animals would pass through. I thought about setting up a third snare, a fish-catching snare (which was honestly quite similar), in the small creek. But, I was already out of time.

Done with my jobs for the evening, Autumn and I enjoyed another meal of fruit. There were still a couple left for breakfast tomorrow; I hoped I would catch some animals in the snares, too.

I would admit; it was nice having company in here. Especially company that wouldn't be trying to snap my neck the second a certain rule wasn't in place.

The quiet, sincere, and wide-eyed "thank you" that Autumn gave me right before I began to scale the tree—my watch post, and bed for the night—tugged at my heart. This was the most time I'd ever spent with her, alone, and the most I'd ever really spoken with her. I knew it wasn't the smartest idea to get attached. But she was from District 7. And she was as innocent in this as I was, dragged here against her will.

How could I not want to help her, at least a little?

I was still a human being, even stuck in this gruesome fight to the death, and I wasn't giving up that side of me if I had anything to say about it.

…

There was only one death to show that night on the recap.

I already knew it was the older man from District 3—Rudd's partner. I also knew he had died to the swarm of giant, human-eating insect muttations. I declined to mention any of this to Autumn. It would only traumatize her.

I also knew that he'd been suffering from the loss of one of his hands after Rudd's death, making his own death even more likely after the bloodbath.

I wondered what Autumn was thinking. We were hardly talking; I was currently settled on a branch at least thirty feet above her, and didn't want to draw attention to us.

But I assumed she recognized that the man's face projected against the black sky was Rudd's partner. Autumn had known Rudd better than me. At least, I assumed she did. They had the same mentor, and were always stuck together. Perhaps she knew whether he had a family grieving him back home, friends who had been hoping for his return but who would never get to see him again.

Neither of us had talked about it since meeting up. I didn't want to.

Nor had we discussed the fact that the Gamemakers probably weren't happy that only one person died today. Which made sixteen total dead. It was only day three of the Games, and one-third of the tributes had already died by now, but I doubted that was enough for their bloodlust.

I was sure they would unleash new horrors in the days to come. Now that it was dark, and quieter—most of the birds and animals were asleep for the night, and Autumn had fallen asleep shortly after the recap—it was all I could think about.

I could have been very close to dying today. Seconds away from the insects noticing and coming after me, maybe. What a horrible way to go.

I had to be more careful. Rudd's partner hadn't been that far away from me, clearly. And I'd had no idea.

As I kept watch amidst the darkness, Autumn likely long asleep in the shelter underneath me, I kept a tight grip on the knife.

...

An hour passed. Then another. So far, it had been uneventful.

However, my exhaustion was beginning to wear on me, heavily. I'd been able to ignore it, at first, with my mind racing from the events of today and the possibilities of tomorrow. And I was worried about Autumn, and currently protecting her by keeping watch, so that helped me stay alert.

But now—it had to be at least three hours since it had gotten dark, I thought, though there was no real way to tell time—sleep was beginning to tug on my eyelids. I didn't think I'd be able to stay awake much longer before I'd have to try to wake Autumn.

The Gamemakers had decided to make tonight especially dark. There was very little moonlight, and the sky must have been mostly overcast. The lack of light was especially exacerbated under the forest canopy, and made it harder to keep watch. It was oppressive; straining my eyes, I could only just see outlines of the trees and some of the larger undergrowth vegetation. In some ways, it reassured me that other tributes wouldn't be able to creep up on us without flashlights or night vision equipment. There was just no way to easily traverse the forest in the inky blackness.

But, on the other hand, it made it harder for me to see, too. I felt concerned that something could be far too close to me before I'd be able to clearly make out its shape. As such, I was having to rely on my hearing a lot, to make sure nothing was amiss.

Perhaps that's how I noticed so quickly when the forest in our immediate vicinity began to quiet.

At first, I just thought it was a lull—the forest was far quieter overnight than during the day anyway. Yet, normally, there were still plenty of sounds of nocturnal insects, the occasional small animal brushing through the undergrowth, even the rare (extremely rare) breeze rustling the tree leaves.

But, after several seconds passed, I realized it wasn't just a lull. The forest around me had gotten far, far quieter than normal. Too quiet. Like it was holding its breath. It was almost reminiscent of when a hovercraft approached.

And then, Autumn's words from earlier echoed in my ears.

The forest got all quiet. I just knew something was wrong. It was like…like all the animals were hiding.

Exactly like now. Shit.

Alarm bells began going off in my head. Instinctively, I began to work at the knots tying me to the tree. I had kept them loose anyway because I hadn't been trying to sleep yet, but I also wanted to be able to move quickly in case of an emergency.

I had been surrounded by noises of the forest all my life, and I knew when something was off. There was a danger nearby. And I was going to trust my instincts. This sounded exactly like what Autumn had warned me about. The deathly fog.

I glanced around, scanning the forest intently, keeping my ears peeled as I removed the rope from around my legs and stuffed it in the backpack. I saw nothing, except the outlines of trees and bushes, and the glint of the water of the creek not too far away. I didn't see any fog or mist.

But that didn't mean it wasn't coming. Who knew how fast it moved?

And even if it wasn't that, there was clearly some sort of danger nearby. Maybe another trap, or natural disaster, or muttation. The forest was deathly quiet. All of my instincts were telling me to get out of here.

I placed my knife into the backpack, and began to climb down the tree. It was risky, in this darkness, with so little moonlight. Without as much experience as I had, I could have easily toppled down and severely injured myself. Normally I wouldn't dare climb without being able to see well. But danger was lurking, and Autumn was vulnerable underneath me. Climbing wouldn't save me from a Gamemaker trap.

Luckily, I had instinct and practice on my side, and I trusted my balance. I was able to locate secure handholds and footholds as I cautiously climbed down, lower and lower. Sweat was beading on my forehead and my body was screaming at me to move faster, but I couldn't risk falling. Adrenaline roared in my ears, begging me to hurry. The forest was still deathly quiet.

I finally landed on the ground on two feet, removing my backpack just to yank the knife out before putting it on again, quickly striding the few feet over to the shelter where Autumn lay.

"Autumn! We have to go!" I hissed lowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, while still wanting to wake her up. I couldn't really see her in the shelter, but heard movement as she startled awake. Probably as jumpy as I had gotten during my time here.

"What is it?" She asked tremulously, voice thick with sleep.

"Shh, keep your voice down," I whispered. "It's too quiet. Something is coming."

I could practically sense Autumn stiffening in horror, as she realized how quiet the forest was. "That fog?" She barely breathed.

"I don't know, but let's go," I whispered back. "Let's get to the creek, and move east. We'll be able to see better out there, no matter what it is. Trees are thinner. We can cross it if we need to."

There was less cover there, which was not ideal for being spotted by tributes, but right now it was our best option. No way we could move in these woods quickly without light to see by, so running away from whatever the Gamemakers had prepared would be extremely difficult.

And turning on the weird purple beam of my flashlight was a last resort; based on my testing it didn't illuminate anything well at all, so it wouldn't really help us see where we were going, and risked drawing tributes or anything dangerous right to us.

I could hear Autumn scrambling out of the shelter, stumbling slightly as she stood up…and I reached forward, grasping around until I was gripping her hand tightly. She didn't ask me to, but I just knew, she'd fall behind immediately if I didn't. I felt like I could break her hand if I squeezed too tightly.

We began to stride forward, blindly, me pulling Autumn along behind me.

And right then, I heard an out-of-place noise, somewhere behind us.

It was a rattling, hissing noise, almost as if something was being rubbed against sandpaper. There was a faint clicking sound underneath. I couldn't for the life of me determine what it was, besides animalistic, and strange. It didn't sound like the hiss of a snake…it was something else.

But I had absolutely zero doubt it was dangerous. It was the middle of the night, the forest had quieted, and it was the Hunger Games.

"Run," I whispered.

We ran.

Fear and adrenaline—combined with getting some sleep—clearly gave the frail girl energy, and I could hear her feet moving quickly behind me. Her breaths sounded panicked, or maybe those were mine. I could feel her struggling through the undergrowth as I was, straggling just behind me. Her hand was gripping mine tighter than I thought possible as we dashed towards the creek.

And still, we needed to move faster. I tugged, and tugged, and I was struggling to progress myself. The terrain wasn't perfectly even here, and there were bushes and roots and all sorts of obstacles in our path. Obstacles we couldn't see in the almost pitch-black forest.

I heard the strange rattling and clicking noise again behind us, echoing in the oddly still air.

Closer now. It had to be following us…whatever it was. I glanced over my shoulder, peering intently through the forest.

Was that a black shape that had just moved in the distance? Was it a muttation?

Fear coursed through me again. I kept my hand clasped around Autumn's tiny one, dragging her along with every amount of force I could muster. We were almost to the creek. My arm was stretched taut, hand still clamped around Autumn's, and I could hear her panicked footsteps as she tried her best to keep up without falling on her face. I could also hear her breathing hoarsely, a mixture of fear and exertion. She lost her balance, pulling me slightly sideways before she righted herself.

I stumbled, but didn't fall; the thought of losing ground gave me another panicked burst of energy. We finally burst out of the tree line, reaching the edge of the creek. There was actually some open space here, and it was easier to see in the thin moonlight.

I didn't hesitate, still yanking Autumn behind me, forcing her towards the creek. It was only a couple of feet deep and moved at a very slow pace, so I knew there was no danger of being swept away.

Not that it mattered. Something was chasing us. We were basically out of options.

Our feet splashed into the water, the cold of it shocking against my hot skin even through the fabric of my pants. The water again made my cuts sting, but I ignored them, adrenaline urging me forward. Autumn was breathing very heavily, and terror gripped me, but we couldn't slow down now. Her hand still gripped mine, and I could feel it was slick with sweat.

The creek was only about fifteen feet across. I pulled and tugged and pulled—she slipped on something in the creek bed and I spun around, catching her before she could topple forward in the water. I heaved her up to her feet again and turned around, as we lurched forward towards the bank on the other side of the creek.

Once on dry land again I spun around, eyes intently searching the tree line where we'd exited, breathing heavily. My shirt was stuck to my body with sweat, heart fluttering against my chest. Autumn was heaving stuttering breaths beside me.

I didn't see anything.

Where had it gone?

Had it given up already?

Had I imagined the dark shape following us?

"Let's go," I panted out. "I don't know where it is, but I don't want to stay here."

But before we could move, there was another loud, rattling hiss, with the clacking noise reverberating underneath, and the undergrowth across the creek shifted. A creature emerged, visible now outside of the tree line. Its form was evident in the frail moonlight.

I stepped back in horror, my grip tightening even further on Autumn's hand. She had turned back to look at it too and gasped, the sound barely escaping her lips.

It was massive, black scorpion, its body the height of a large wolf, but much wider and longer. It had some sort of glossy, hard, outer shell that refracted what little light there was. The scorpion's tail stretched much higher than its body, curving upwards, ending in a wickedly sharp stinger that had to be at least a foot long. As I watched, the creature hissed again, moving to the side, legs skittering across the ground. It then opened and closed its pincers, rapidly, a clack clack clack sound emanating from them. There was a disgusting clicking sound emanating from its grotesque version of a mouth.

Clearly a Capitol-engineered, gigantic death machine.

It had approached the edge of the creek, and was now hesitating, deciding whether to cross it to follow us.

I didn't know too much about scorpions, but I had seen one or two back home, and I was pretty sure most of them could climb. I wouldn't have been much safer in the tree. I couldn't see its eyes, but I was absolutely sure they were fixated on us. Almost as if it were deciding whether to cross the river. Clearly, it had no issues seeing at night, either. Or hearing.

But could it swim?

I wasn't going to wait to find out.

Autumn was trembling, still fixated on the massive creature.

"Come on!" I said, clear panic etched in my voice. I turned and pulled her along again, breaking into a jog and quickly moving east along the creek, along the riverbank. I didn't want to enter the trees or let the scorpion out of my sight yet. It would be slower going away from the creek. Out here, I could somewhat see where I was stepping.

My knife was clutched in a death grip in my other hand. How could we fight this thing with one, tiny weapon?

It had looked like the muttation's shell—or carapace, or whatever the hell it was called—would be difficult to pierce, even if I had good aim. Which I didn't, as I had proven during training. All I would do was lose the knife in the process. I'd have to be very close or just underneath it to do any damage, and by then I'd be dead, I guessed.

I might as well not have a weapon at all.

We hurried onward, creating some distance between us and the monstrous thing behind us as we proceeded east along the edge of the creek.

But apparently, the scorpion was done hesitating. It let out another hiss and more clack clack clacks, and then, as I glanced over my shoulder and watched in abject horror from a distance, it charged forward.

Directly into the creek. Clearly disregarding the water in its intent to catch up to us.

Something almost like a muffled scream of frustration escaped my mouth.

But we couldn't hesitate, and again, we had no options. If it was that big, and could climb, and had a hard outer shell, it wouldn't be hindered by the undergrowth of the forest like we were. It would catch us easily. The forest wasn't an option, then. We could only run along the creek, and pray it got tired of chasing us or the creek got deep enough that it wouldn't follow if we crossed it again.

"Come on!" I said hoarsely to Autumn, speeding up into a sprint again along the creek's edge, her hand still clasped in mine. It was easier to run here. The terrain wasn't perfectly level, gradually sloping downwards, but we could see better, and there were few obstacles blocking our path. The undergrowth was sparser, and easier to avoid. We had a head start from the scorpion's hesitation to enter the water.

I fully intended to capitalize on that head start as I ran as fast as I could, clenching Autumn's hand like my life depended on it.

Or like hers did.

At first, Autumn seemed to have found renewed vigor, caused by the terror of seeing the monstrosity chasing us and the no-doubt lethal stinger it was poised to strike with. Her frantic footsteps echoed mine, and despite her heavy breathing, she was almost keeping up with my pace, only forcing me to slow slightly.

But, as we continued desperately running, it was evident her body wasn't built for this. Even outside of the Games, I doubted she had the endurance necessary to try to outrun this thing. As I tugged her in the direction that I hoped would get us away from the mutt, I could hear that she was beginning to wheeze slightly.

I glanced behind us after a moment, and barely held back a panicked scream from escaping my throat—the scorpion had emerged from the creek and taken to chasing us again, releasing another menacing sound. It looked like it was moving fast. This landscape was easier for it, too. Its many legs skittered across the ground easily, paying no heed to the small dips in terrain or obstacles in its way.

It would catch us, within the next few minutes, maybe less. There was no doubt in my mind. It was already gaining, and may have caught us already if not for our large head start. Even without Autumn slowing our pace, I was worried it was fast enough to catch me if I were moving slower than a flat-out sprint.

And I couldn't sprint forever, even if I had been alone. I knew that, even as I still pulled Autumn along, desperately hoping it would give up.

Were scorpions always this fast, proportionate to size?

Not that it mattered. It was a Capitol mutt. It didn't follow natural rules.

I jerked at Autumn's arm again as I felt her slow, knowing it probably hurt her, but it was better than the alternative. I glanced to the left as we tottered and stumbled along; but from what I could see with so little light, the creek was still shallow, probably not enough to dissuade the scorpion if we crossed again. I doubted it would hesitate a second time, not when it was gaining on us.

Yet I could feel that Autumn was becoming slightly unsteady on her feet, her breaths rattling in her chest, and I wasn't sure she could go much further…

I was so focused on looking to the left and behind me, and it was so dark, that I almost didn't see it: a sudden drop-off, right in front of us. The level ground of the riverbank disappeared a short distance ahead, the creek continuing downward in what sounded like a waterfall. If I'd been listening to the forest around us instead of our own panicked footfalls and heavy breathing, I would have likely have heard the sounds of a waterfall sooner, instead of almost running right over the edge.

I skidded to a stop, heart flying into my throat, my momentum almost hurling me over the edge. I spun around, throwing my free arm to the side, stopping Autumn's progress with my upper arm to ensure she didn't topple off and over. Her tiny body lurched into me, her weight almost unbalancing me despite how slight she was. I scrabbled backwards a step or two before stopping, the drop-off precariously close.

I glanced down as she clung to me, taking rattling breaths, her form trembling—the drop we'd almost ran right over looked to be over twenty feet, perhaps closer to thirty. The creek continued onward down below, but there was no way for us to get down safely. We couldn't make that jump without severely injuring ourselves, and we didn't have time to carefully climb down.

Behind us, the scorpion was advancing, rapidly gaining ground even after our head start.

We'd have to cut into the tree line and turn south, hopefully finding an easier way down. Even if we crossed the creek here—and it looked even more shallow than before—we'd have the same problem.

Fuck, I thought furiously. How were we supposed to outrun it? We'd be moving even more slowly in there.

But we had no choice. Hesitation would kill us, and this knife would be next to useless at range, and was a last resort.

I hissed out a breath, keeping Autumn's hand in mine, my other hand still clutching the knife as I turned to the right and pulled her after me forcefully.

"Autumn," I panted. "Can you get the flashlight out of my pack? I was worried about drawing attention before, and I doubt it'll help much, but still…"

It can't get any worse, I thought. I was past the point of caring if other tributes saw us. Now that we weren't following the bank of the creek, every bit of light would help.

I continued to move forward, because hesitation could mean death, but I tried to angle myself so that Autumn could reach my backpack with her free hand. It forced me to slow my place even more, and I felt her fumbling for the zipper for a moment before she found it. Then she was frantically tugging at it, opening the backpack just enough, still panting heavily. It was difficult not to stumble and fall now that we were within the confines of the trees again. We had to brush past bushes, not having the time to go around, and I knew we'd probably be tangling with a lot of thorns in the process. After a few seconds I felt Autumn pull the strange flashlight out of my backpack, unable to close the pack without a free hand. Right now, I didn't care.

"Just turn it on," I panted. "Anything helps."

She obliged and flicked the flashlight on, then, but my suspicions from earlier were confirmed. The flashlight was better than nothing, but barely. It did little to illuminate our path as we ran, the odd purple-blue circle not bright enough to fully light the area in front of us. She kept it on, the beam flicking around frantically as I yanked her behind me, our free hands clasped together.

Gritting my teeth, I pressed onward as quickly as I could with Autumn desperately trailing behind me. I was making a committed effort to ignore the part of my brain that was telling me it was all hopeless. My body burned with exhaustion and fatigue; I hadn't gotten to sleep yet.

Judging by the rattling and hissing sound, the scorpion had reached the tree line. I was convinced that it had some sort of advanced night vision or hearing, to be able to pinpoint us so accurately.

"Don't look back!" I hissed. The words came out choppy between my panting breaths.

I could hear the effort it was taking Autumn just to try to run. She stumbled, and I had to waste a precious second to turn, lifting her back up so we could continue on. I didn't think she could go much further.

But she had to. We had to pick up the pace.

The beam illuminated a narrow amount of undergrowth in front of us, and it wobbled constantly with Autumn's movements, but it at least helped us see roots protruding from the ground and thorny bushes that could ensnare us. It let me adjust our trajectory as much as possible, pushing forward as quickly as I could, my body burning with the effort. Still, it wasn't easy. Roots and thorns impeded our progress, and branches or large bushes seemed to pop up out of nowhere. I was too slow to duck and weave a few times, and felt new cuts accumulating across my body and even my face.

I could also feel exhaustion rising in my chest, my body weaker with lack of adequate food and sleep and dragging Autumn along, yet fear overrode everything. Driving me on, past the point where I'd normally need to stop.

But Autumn's wheezing had gotten worse, and I could feel her slowing behind me. The extra weight threatened to slow our pace to a near-walk. I pulled and tugged until my arm ached with the force of dragging her, knowing that to stop for even a few more seconds would spell the end for us. I was sure the thing was still gaining on us. I could practically hear the odd hissing and clicking getting louder as it advanced.

I yanked on Autumn's free arm, narrowly avoiding one of the thorny bushes. I wondered if there was still a drop-off to the east.

Fuck. Were we that out of options? Should we just risk the jump? Would it follow?

Then, suddenly, Autumn stumbled again, this time nearly jerking my arm out of my socket as she collapsed on her knees. I spun around, reaching my other arm down, trying to hook it under her armpit to lift her up.

"Come on Autumn, we have to go!" I hissed urgently, the words scraping against my throat.

I could hear her panicked, shallow breathing. "I-I can't," she stuttered, hand squeezing mine almost convulsively.

"You have to!" I begged, managing to lift her up, glancing over her shoulder; I knew the giant scorpion was closing on us fast, as I could just barely see the dark silhouette approaching. Here in the forest, it would be even harder to see.

I pulled her arm up and across the back of my neck, maneuvering my arm underneath hers and across her back so I could try to hold her up. I began to yank her along again, though I could feel her trembling. The flashlight threatened to fall out of her grip. The survivalist part of my brain was screaming at me that I was putting my own life at risk here, but my humanity was refusing to abandon her.

"No," she whispered, digging her heels in, refusing to move. "I'll get both of us killed."

"Autumn! Come on!" My voice was tinged with desperation. In a panic, I glanced over my shoulder, insides freezing with fear—from the sound of it, the scorpion would soon be within striking distance.

"You have to move!" I urged, my voice increasing in octave and volume, in my panic not caring who overheard. Yet, my survival instinct was telling me to drop her, I knew I had to, to survive…

"Make it home, June," she whispered. The flashlight toppled out of her hand, onto the ground next to me.

And then—with a force I did not expect her to be capable of in her current state—she slipped her arm from my shoulders, placed her palms on my back, and shoved me away from her, all in an instant, before I could react.

I stumbled forward a few steps, not having braced myself for the shove. The uneven terrain unbalanced me further, my body heavy and uncoordinated with exhaustion. I stumbled through a (fortunately thornless) bush and then caught myself against a nearby tree, reminiscent of earlier. Panicked, I extricated myself as fast as I could, spinning around with a frantic "NO!"

Autumn had already turned towards the scorpion bearing down on her, and staggered a few final, desperate steps towards it, before sinking to her knees. Accepting her death.

Almost automatically, I half-tripped forward, bending down and grabbing the discarded flashlight. In one smooth motion I raised it, to train it on the approaching enemy. I have to save her. At the same time, I gripped my knife, a strangled cry escaping my throat, pulling my arm back to throw the weapon …even knowing it was a desperate attempt with virtually no chance at success.

But the instant the unusual beam fell on the approaching creature, my eyes widened in disbelief and horror, and I noticed two things simultaneously.

First: while the flashlight was generally useless at illuminating the surroundings, it was entirely the opposite when it came to the scorpion. Under the beam, the part of the creature that was illuminated glowed, a shocking shade of vibrant blue.

For a split second, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. While its surroundings remained dark and scarcely lit by the beam, the scorpion's body was a brilliant hue, a shock of color that could probably be seen from a long way away, brought into striking visual clarity by the strange beam.

Was that what this flashlight was for? Seeing these disgusting Capitol muttations even in pitch-black conditions?

But I only registered that for a split second, because the other thing I noticed was that I was too late.

In the time it took me to recover and grab the flashlight, the creature had lunged forward, closing the short distance between it and the small girl who had collapsed in front of it, and one of its pincers had already reached forward, clasping around her fragile body and lifting her slightly in the air.

Simultaneously, with its pincer securing her frail form, the back of its gigantic body and back legs had lifted slightly off of the ground, stinger already jolting forward even as my flashlight illuminated the scene.

I heard the desperate, strained scream emerge from Autumn's throat as the lethal stinger sank into her body.

Run! Run! She's dead! The survivalist voice was screaming in my head, while the words Make it home, June, echoed in my ears.

I could see part of the scorpion clearly under this light, Autumn less so, since it did a poor job of illuminating our surroundings; even still, it looked like her body was jerking and thrashing strangely and painfully in the scorpion's grip, as if poison were coursing through her veins.

Desperately, I jerked the beam towards the right a bit, and up, towards where I assumed the creature's eyes were located; I was fruitlessly hoping it would have some sort of damaging effect on the scorpion besides making it easy to spot.

The beam connected with the scorpion's beady, soulless eyes, reflecting strangely against the orbs. With this part of its face thrown into bright clarity by the strange light, I could see its mouth (if it could even be called a mouth) move frantically and it hissed loudly, this time a hiss that sounded more like pain. It recoiled, then skittered backward a few steps, dropping Autumn's seizing body from its claws.

So, the light hurts it, when shone in its eyes? Can I use this as a weapon?

"Autumn, run!" I choked out, even knowing it was useless, that she was wholly incapable of moving.

As I had the thought, the cannon went off.

You need to run. She's gone.

A strangled cry escaped my mouth as I backed up, placing my feet carefully. I was trying to re-focus my flashlight on the creature's eyes again, to keep it at bay until I could escape.

Run. Now.

But I couldn't. It appeared the light hadn't scared the scorpion off, only forcing it back temporarily, when shone directly in its eyes. And it was so fast.

And it was set on catching me, too.

The grotesque thing had skittered to the side, trying to avoid the light, and I frantically tried to follow it with the beam, trying not to lose sight of it. The flashlight felt like my only chance right now. The beam wasn't large enough to light up the entire thing at once, and I had to go by sound to locate it again, to determine its trajectory and find its eyes.

I couldn't outrun the scorpion I knew. I had to force it back. Even if I had run when Autumn shoved me, it probably could have caught up to me in my current state.

I would have had to let go of her much, much sooner.

There it was, off to the left; I could hear it rustling the undergrowth. I followed the sounds with the flashlight—and there was the massive form, glowing blue where the light touched it, seemingly aiming for me now, the newly discovered threat. It was moving slightly slower than before, I thought, almost cautiously. But its tail was raised even higher, menacingly positioned to strike; it was maybe twenty or thirty feet away, advancing on me deliberately, pushing through the undergrowth and thorns like they were nothing.

My stomach lurched with fear, my spine stiffened, and I swung the beam again, frantically adjusting it until the bluish-purple light was boring directly into its eyes. My hand was sweaty on the flashlight and I almost dropped it.

Another loud hiss of pain, more clicking noises, and the mutt was backing up then turning again, adjusting course. It was now trying to edge to the side, to circle around me, in order to get at me while avoiding the purple-blue beam.

But I followed it, clutching the flashlight for dear life, listening intently to every sound it made as it tried to maneuver around me. The amount of undergrowth around me made its trajectory easier to hear.

There it was again, on my right, walking near the drop-off now, mouth clicking menacingly. Was I just imagining it, or was it moving a bit more slowly, not quite running in a straight line? As if the light had entirely disoriented it, or damaged its vision?

I held the flashlight out like a weapon, taking another step back. The circle of strange light jolted around, with me—in a panic—rapidly adjusting the angle of the beam until I found the monster's eyes yet again.

This time, the muttation was slightly closer to me, and the proximity allowed me to observe the flinch backward, the shudder along its body, as the strange light clearly caused the creature severe pain.

The scorpion recoiled for a third time, the recoil now accompanied by a loud sound almost like a squeal emerging from its mouth along with the hissing, echoing in the still forest. It finally turned away entirely, skittering away on its many legs from the strange light. And now, I could clearly see the way its path zigzagged more, the creature unbalanced, its eyesight potentially damaged from the beam.

Either way, the scorpion had clearly had enough of the painful light burning into its eyes. This was my chance to run before it changed its mind.

A pained sound escaped my lips, but I turned away from the departing scorpion, and from Autumn's crumpled form. I didn't want to see it, didn't want to see those blue eyes that were probably staring sightlessly up at the night sky. She was gone.

So I turned away from her tiny, broken form, and ran.

She had said it earlier: she didn't have much time left. Her death had essentially been guaranteed the instant her name was drawn in the Reaping, long before she entered the Arena. I just hadn't wanted to accept it.

But Autumn had accepted it. She had shoved me, to try to buy me time. So that I could live. The guilt welled up in me, but my survival instinct was assuming full control over my decisions now. And I knew, deep down, there was nothing I could do.

I tried to use the flashlight to see ahead of me as I desperately ran away from her corpse, but even if it were better at illuminating the forest around me, I was sightless right now.

All I could see was Autumn's small body, clutched in the scorpion's pincer, and then me…too powerless to help.

I let out a small sob, tearing through the forest, feeling tears starting to gather in my eyes, threatening to spill over.

You have to get out of here. It could come back, or a tribute could have heard something or seen your flashlight. Autumn's scream, and the creature's squeal, had seemed incredibly loud amidst the quieter-than-usual forest. Plus, if I were truly getting closer to the center of the Arena like I thought, there were probably more tributes around.

I needed to turn off the flashlight, I knew. I wanted to get further from the scorpion mutt before I felt safe doing that, but at the same time, it could draw tributes. I turned it off, listening intently for any pursuit from the scorpion, but hearing nothing.

And I kept moving, almost blindly—tripping and stumbling frequently over obstacles—until my chest was burning. All of my limbs were heavy, aching, from a combination of exhaustion, terror…

And grief.

…

As soon as I put some distance between myself and Autumn's body, I paused and listened for a moment, but didn't hear anything. Nor did a quick scan with the flashlight (when I turned it back on briefly) reveal anything. It hadn't given chase, as far as I could see. Clearly, the Gamemakers had their fun and decided to call the thing off.

Or maybe they realized that I'd figured out the mystery of the flashlight, so it would be harder for the thing to kill me. Since I'd figured out the flashlight's purpose, my reward was for them to put away their little toy, for now.

Fuck you all, I thought, hatefully.

I continued onward, moving much more slowly than before. Cautiously. Any tributes in the area could have been drawn to the spot where Autumn died. Or could have heard me running through the forest, or noticed the purple beam, and followed me. With my luck, someone like Onyx or Tatiana would find me.

I had to be as quiet as possible. The forest's sounds had resumed, but I had to remain alert.

The tears had long-since stopped—overcome with the desire to put as much distance between me and that grizzly scene as I could. Still, I was growing tired, my progress continually slowing.

I suspected the grief would come again later. I would try my best to minimize it, because the rational side of me knew that looking weak wouldn't help things…but there was just no way I'd be able to avoid it entirely.

At this point, I could hardly catch my bearings. I thought I may still be heading south, or maybe I had turned more east again. But there was no way to tell, without the sun to direct me. Exhaustion was beginning to cloud my brain.

As I continued to put distance between myself and where Autumn had died, the physical pain had kicked in. The cuts from earlier ached, and some of them seemed to be bleeding again. Apparently, at some point, my heedless running had caused me to acquire a couple of cuts on my face, too, including a bigger one on my forehead. It had taken a while for me to notice the sting, but when I'd wiped at it, I realized blood was slowly trickling out. Some of my hair was sticking to it.

But worse than all of the physical discomfort, the guilt had emerged in full force—what if I had figured out the flashlight sooner? Would she still be alive?

The rational side of me was aware that there was no way for me to know that. Turning on a light, and drawing attention of a mutt and any potential tribute in the area, was a last resort. I had never seen a flashlight like that before, and realistically there was no way to guess that it functioned the way it did.

I also felt horrible that Autumn had essentially sacrificed herself for me. Or, at least, that had been her intent.

But then, some part of me had the terrible thought that, without the flashlight, her sacrifice might not have been enough. Even if I hadn't hesitated and tried to help her—if I'd just turned and ran as soon as she shoved me—the scorpion probably could have caught up to me.

This stupid, strange flashlight that I'd found had saved my life.

How convenient, that I had a weapon perfectly suited to fight off the muttation. Just further confirmed how orchestrated all of this was. The Gamemakers probably would have preferred that I died, but it made it especially interesting for the Capitol, I was sure, that I'd emerged victorious. Using the tools so generously provided to me once I'd figured out the poisonous geyser trap.

I just hated the Capitol more and more.

…

A short while later, I had no more energy. I was near collapsing. How much distance had I put between myself and where Autumn had died? In this terrain, it was hard to tell what kind of progress I was making. I could be zig-zagging back and forth. But the fact that the forest was noisy again meant the creature was nowhere near.

Not too long ago, the sound of the bubbling creek had slowly re-emerged on my left, further confusing my sense of direction, but at least it was a landmark to guide me.

Now I decided to approach it, quickly, just to re-hydrate myself before finding somewhere to sleep for the night.

I turned and tentatively walked over to the creek, trying to make my footsteps as light as possible. I crouched down, checking the current. It was a bit slower here, but still clear, and all of the running water had been safe to drink so far. I idly remembered Autumn—I felt a sharp pang as I thought about her, vainly trying to push it aside to deal with later—saying that yesterday, they had only left the river flowing for a few hours. Apparently, the water was going to be permanently "turned on" now. Maybe they were worried too many tributes would die of dehydration.

I cupped the liquid in my hands, splashing it against my face to cleanse grime and blood—my forehead cut and the other scrapes on my face stung as I did so—and then began to take deep mouthfuls. It was temperate outside overnight in this Arena, but I was still parched and sweaty from all of the terrified running and scrambling through the undergrowth.

After I was finished, I stood up and turned around, looking for something I could use for shelter. I was exhausted, and it was dark. I wasn't sure I had the strength to climb.

The thought of sleeping on the ground was not remotely appealing…but my limbs felt incredibly heavy. I was absolutely sapped of energy. On top of that, I couldn't see well in here. It was probably the worst conditions for climbing, and I didn't want to risk injury.

I began to wander for a bit, keeping the sounds of the creek in hearing distance and examining the trees closely, looking for one that could provide adequate shelter. I felt fatigue tugging at me, practically making my feet drag.

Just when I was almost to the point of hunkering down in the closest large plant, I found a spot that could suffice. The tree didn't have as large of an indent between the roots as I wanted, but there were a couple of large bushes almost up against the trunk on one side. If I nestled down between the bushes and the tree, I should be pretty well hidden. At night, certainly nobody would see me unless they stepped on me or had a light source and got really close.

And I was too tired to keep looking.

I didn't even take the time to fully insulate the spot, just putting a couple handfuls of leaves down before I settled in, backpack on my lap, arms wrapped around it. I kept the knife grasped tightly in my grip.

A lot of good it did me against that giant scorpion mutt, I thought sourly. Not sure what type of weapon would have been able to kill it, though. Maybe Cato with his sword, or Katniss last year with her bow and arrows, with how perfect her aim was. She probably could have shot its eyes out.

I hadn't been strong or skilled enough. I felt another wave of sadness and guilt, threatening to overpower me, my eyes burning as I pictured Autumn's pale face.

I leaned my head back against the trunk, and despite the turmoil in my head, almost immediately began to doze off, exhaustion winning out.

I hadn't been dozing long—in fact, I wasn't yet in a full state of sleep—before something woke me.

The faintest echo of a voice in the distance, laughter carried through the still air. Odd, to hear laughter in the Arena.

Oh no.

My eyes shot open, and at the same time, I caught a strange, brief flicker from the corner of my eye.

For the…third? Fourth? Fifth?...time today, panic lanced through me.

I leaned forward, moving part of the bush out of my way slightly to get a better look, just peeking around the jutting edge of the trunk wrapping around me. Glancing to my right, it only took me a second to realize what the flicker was: the sporadic beams of flashlights, cutting through the undergrowth intermittently. They were a good distance away, generally coming from the direction where I had run from earlier. Since the forest was thinner now, and it was nearly pitch black, they were easy to see, even from here.

It looked like they were heading this way.

Shit.

I immediately withdrew and scooted backwards, further back against the tree, letting it and the bush obscure me again. I had been fortunate in the sense that the tree was between me and them, but if they walked past and checked their peripherals, I was in trouble.

I strained my ears, but didn't hear the echo of voices again. I could only hear my own frantic heartbeat.

Maybe the tributes had heard Autumn's screams, or my shouts, or the scorpion's squeal of pain. Maybe they had seen the purple light of my flashlight earlier from a distance, and were trying to follow the general direction it had been heading. Maybe they had spotted it when I'd turned it back on to see if the scorpion was around.

It seemed too convenient to be coincidental, so I assumed they had been drawn by one of those things.

But, then again, maybe it was just bad luck. It would fit perfectly with the day I'd had.

Either way, my heart had picked up into a dangerous pace again, because I knew they were probably Careers. Who else would have so many light sources, or be confident enough moving around in the dead of night?

In past Games, the Careers usually went out hunting the first couple of nights at least, leaving after dark and spending several hours looking for easy, helpless prey. This was only the third night of the Games, and there were a lot of tributes alive still, so I shouldn't be surprised.

Can this day get any worse? I thought morosely.

I was pretty hidden here, but if they walked too close by, a flashlight might reveal me. And what if they had some sort of night-vision glasses? Those had been available in prior Games.

Maybe, if they were Careers, it could be the alliance I was supposed to be a part of.

But, there were plenty of other Careers out there, and I wasn't sure if they had allied with each other or not. I couldn't bank on these tributes being the ones allied with me.

And what if it was part of my alliance, but Ben and Cato were not around? I felt like someone like Caspian or Chiffon or Lambent would easily kill me if that were the case, just to inflict the Gamemaker penalty on their biggest competition. I was sure Caspian would thoroughly enjoy doing that.

No, I had to play it safe, until I knew who it was.

I gripped my knife even tighter until my hand ached, squeezing my backpack to my chest, back pushed against the trunk. Even behind the cover of the leafy bushes and the trunk, I wanted to make myself as invisible as possible. They may not walk directly past me, but I also couldn't risk leaving cover in case they did have night vision goggles that could detect my movement or body heat.

Today had made my first two days in the Arena seem easy in comparison. I'd rather face the poisonous geysers again than bloodthirsty Careers.

But you're still alive.

I felt myself tremble slightly, whether from fear or exhaustion, I wasn't sure. Probably both.

Then, another sound from the distance; another laugh. Male. It didn't sound like Ben, Caspian, or Cato, but it wasn't exactly easy to tell from this distance.

Was Cato even capable of laughter?

I bit my lip, trying not to fidget. I couldn't make a sound. I occasionally saw flickers from the corner of my eye as a flashlight beam would trail across something in my field of vision, though never anywhere too close to me.

Seconds trickled by, turning into a minute, then another, my pulse still pounding intensely. I saw flashlight beams more frequently; one of them briefly scraped across a tree a short distance away, causing another wave of fear to crash over me.

I began to hear the sounds of the tributes' progress. They weren't currently talking (unless they were whispering, which was unlikely given the previous laughter) but I could hear the crashing sounds of them moving through the forest. Not even bothering to conceal their presence or the noise of their movement, though the flashlights already made that obvious.

They were certainly still moving this way. I listened intently, to every twig snap, footfall, brush of undergrowth. I didn't think they'd walk right by me, but they would be coming fairly close. Were they headed to the creek?

And, the even more pressing question: were they (unknowingly) following me?

I tried to get even closer to the tree, clutching my backpack for dear life, bracing myself, knowing they were continuing to get closer.

I was still exhausted, but the fear and adrenaline had briefly overtaken it, keeping me on high alert, my whole body humming with fear.

If they see me, what do I do? Climb? I frantically began to plan. What if they have ranged weapons? Climbing might do me no good. I'm probably too tired to outrun them, and they're Careers. They have better endurance. Not to mention supplies. They're probably well-fed. But if they-

My mental tirade of strategizing was cut off by an annoyed, female voice cutting through the air.

"You sure they came this way?"

Chiffon, sounding very displeased.

I dared not feel hope, though, not knowing who she was with.

"I'm telling you, I saw something. A weird light. Not too long after the cannon went off."

That was Bastion, the boy with a burn scar from District 2, who Cato seemed to be friends with, or at least know well.

"How do you know it was a tribute?" Chiffon didn't sound convinced.

"I mean, I can't know for sure because it was so far away. But it was moving around. What else could it be?"

"Well, I didn't see it." The girl sounded petulant now. She'd probably rather be sleeping.

Me too.

"Probably too distracted, as usual," the boy snickered in response, causing her to scoff in annoyance.

"Whatever. Even if you did see something, they're gone now. We've been out for hours tonight, and not one kill. I say we go back."

"Didn't think you were the type to give up," Bastion teased.

"I'm not giving up, I'm just tired. And we practically went in a big circle. We're almost back anyway," Chiffon argued. I found myself hoping Bastion agreed with her.

Either way, that tells me they've set up camp not too far from here, I suddenly realized.

Bastion sighed heavily. "What do you guys think?"

I stiffened again, realizing the pair wasn't alone.

"The night's still young for me. I can go for hours still," a lilting, cocky voice replied, in an all-too-suggestive tone, and it took me a moment to recognize it as belonging to Lambent from District 1.

My stomach dropped. Those odds were not good for me, even if they were supposed to be my allies.

My train of thought was derailed, however, when the next voice cut in, sounding completely disinterested.

"I think you two should talk less and focus on your surroundings more."

I knew that cold, familiar, almost constantly mocking voice anywhere, especially when the mockery was usually directed at me.

Cato.

I had finally found my partner.

…

A/N: This was the hardest chapter to write so far, despite being one of the first outlines I had completed when starting this story.

Originally, the chapter was going to end with Autumn's death. But I figured I could move it a bit further, to transition into the next phase. That's why it's about 2k-3kish words longer. Things are getting interesting now. ;) SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS, IT'S LONG!

Also, fun fact: scorpions do glow bluish under UV light. I didn't know that until researching for this story. I'm actually terrified of scorpions and I had to do a lot of research to portray their physiology, how they attack their prey, and the noises some of the scorpion species make. It should be somewhat accurate (accounting for the fact that the Capitol genetically engineered it lol) but I'm going to have NIGHTMARES as a result!