Endure Chapter 20: Overcast, a hunger games fanfic

~Chapter Twenty: Overcast~

"Instinct is a marvelous thing. It can neither be explained nor ignored." ―Agatha Christie, The Mysterious Affair at Styles

Naturally, because nothing was ever easy when it came to the Careers, a debate commenced about what we were supposed to do next.

To me, it was obvious. The Gamemakers had sent us a sign that it was time to move on by removing our water sources. The only question should be when we'd leave, not if.

But, of course, the Careers didn't really care what Ben and I thought. So instead, we had to sit around and listen until they finally came to a consensus.

Fortunately, Cato seemed to realize the same thing I did: we were supposed to get moving.

Some of the others initially disagreed, though. Lambent, for one, argued that the river being dried up may only be a temporary thing; he wanted to wait and see what happened next before making any decisions.

Of course Lambent would want to spend more time lounging around here, I hadn't been forced into anything unpleasant during the entire Arena, outside of the bloodbath…which he'd wanted to participate in, I was sure. This was probably a nice little vacation for him.

But staying here was far too risky, in my opinion (and luckily, the boys from 2 appeared to be of similar mindsets). We had several containers already full of water, seeing as how the Careers had hoarded all of the supplies. But between eight of us—and given the oppressive heat in this damn Arena—it wouldn't last that long. If we waited around to the point where we were rationing water, and the Gamemakers didn't re-activate the river for a few days, we'd be in a world of hurt.

And I doubted the Gamemakers would re-fill the river and pond anytime soon. Maybe not for the rest of the Arena. It wouldn't make sense; I had done the math in my head. It was now day 6 of the Arena. Since day 3, only a few tributes had died: the man eaten by insects, Autumn, and the two from that night of the hunt.

If we were late in the Games, that would probably be considered adequate for the Capitol's viewing pleasure; usually, the deaths were slower by that point. But we were still early, less than a week in. And we still had two more Arenas to get through. I suspected the Gamemakers wanted to pick up the pace of killing and bloodshed.

And what better way to do that than to force the biggest alliance—and the group with some of the most bloodthirsty tributes in one place—to relocate? It was so painfully obvious to me. The Gamemakers had sometimes forced Careers to leave the Cornucopia in prior Games. Granted, it didn't usually happen this early, but it was an unusual year.

I just didn't understand how any of this was difficult to grasp.

But thankfully, after plenty of bickering, back-and-forth, and snappy comments (mostly from Cato), the dissenters finally came around. We would look for another viable water source, and in the process, try to hunt down some other tributes to hasten the end of the first Arena.

Once that debate was concluded, a second followed: what to do with all of the extra supplies? Even between eight of us, we couldn't carry everything at once. And we couldn't just lug it around the Arena forever. There was far too much. They'd only brought it all here initially because the pond was so close to the Cornucopia.

But the Careers—in typical Career fashion—absolutely, unanimously refused to leave any leftover supplies here for other tributes to potentially find. They refused to even hide it away in the forest, out of sight.

They had a better idea.

The Careers last year had mined the supplies. They'd executed their plan poorly, but I could see the thought process behind rigging the explosives around it all (even if the Girl on Fire had outwitted them).

But apparently, the Careers this year had really taken that strategy to heart.

So, ultimately, they made the decision to carry the supplies back to the Cornucopia.

It was the most logical choice, I'd admit, if the Careers didn't want to leave anything here. Fitting. It was an hour walk at most, centrally located, and Bastion had already rigged it to potentially catch unsuspecting tributes. The dark-haired boy promised the others he'd craft even more snares, nets, and rope trapsto put in the trees in the area. The Careers wanted to ensure that anyone running for our leftover supplies might end up paying for it.

Part of me thought it was horrid and selfish. They already had an unfair advantage with their training, upbringing and access to better supplies because they always dominated the bloodbath. Wasn't it just leveling the playing field if others came across whatever we left behind?

But the rest of me understood, in a twisted way. Why leave weapons or potentially life-saving supplies around for potential enemies to find?

Of course, we weren't sure how far we'd have to wander from the Cornucopia before finding another water source. So, there was the possibility that once we left the supplies we couldn't carry there, those supplies would stay at the Cornucopia until the end of the Games, because it wouldn't be practical to come back.

But the Careers were accepting of this risk, if it meant other tributes wouldn't get anything for free.

That's how I found myself carrying a very large backpack, stuffed full of everything the Careers could manage to fit in there, as we trudged towards the Cornucopia. It was still before nine in the morning. We were making a trip now, before it got too hot out, then apparently bringing the rest of the supplies (the Careers determined we could do it all in two trips) later today. Depending on how oppressive the heat was.

My new backpack had been stuffed as full as possible with mostly lighter items (not like I had a choice of what I was carrying, as Cato had unceremoniously shoved it in my arms). I had opened it quickly to see that it held a couple of smaller weapons, tools, garments, and who-knew-what else—but it was still very large and cumbersome, and my muscles groaned a bit in protest. Not that I dared say anything. Cato was already in a bad mood today.

Wasn't he always?

I had a sleeping bag tucked under my right arm, while my left hand carried my trusty axe. My other backpack—the one I had found in the clearing—was back at camp, along with most of my personal supplies. I felt oddly uncomfortable not having it around, as I had grown accustomed to it. But we wouldn't be gone long, and the backpack I now carried could fit a hell of a lot more.

I had, however, managed to sneak the purple flashlight into the new backpack. I just couldn't, in good conscience, walk around without it. Even in broad daylight.

My eyes flicked ahead to observe my partner's hulking form. He was carrying far more than I was, absolutely loaded down with supplies (as were the other boys, as well). He was also carrying larger weapons in each hand, so I supposed I shouldn't complain.

Conveniently, this time Lambent hadn't objected to being left behind with Azure to guard camp, when the alternative was carrying supplies through the forest. Typical.

As we made our way the short distance towards the Cornucopia, my skin was already beading with sweat. It was surprisingly more due to exertion than temperature, though. It actually wasn't nearly as hot out today, even for this time of morning. The weather was almost tolerable. I briefly peered up at the sky through the forest canopy above us. There was a layer of clouds today, providing solace from the sun's rays. I hoped they would linger, for a bit of a respite from the previous days of terrible heat. Even as I had the thought, a light breeze tickled my skin.

I glanced to my right, Ben briefly meeting my gaze before rolling his eyes. Caspian was talking (wasn't he always), this time to Chiffon, regaling her with stories of his life back in District 4. Sighing heavily, I tried my best to tune him out. It was more difficult when he was walking a short distance away. His voice was already grating on my last nerve.

Fortunately, we were at the Cornucopia before too long. Almost automatically, my eyes scanned the swath of sand, once again caught off guard by the true openness and emptiness of the desert. There was something just so…uncomfortable about it, to me. The Careers had mentioned potentially crossing it one night, if we didn't have luck elsewhere. I really didn't like the thought.

I did skim the rolling dunes, peering intently, some part of me still remembering the flicker of movement I'd thought I'd seen the last time I was here.

But once again, I detected nothing but sand and desolation, and decided maybe I really was imagining it.

We walked further into the Cornucopia this time to drop off our supplies. I set down the sleeping bag and large backpack with a heavy sigh, before unzipping it and quickly pulling everything out except for a small knife, a water container, the flashlight, and a package of beef strips. I left the supplies I removed in a pile inside the Cornucopia. We'd have to sort everything again tonight, once we'd brought the rest, to figure out exactly what we'd be leaving behind.

It was spacious in here, more than enough space for all of us to shelter inside, but I recalled what Bastion had said. Judging by the metal walls of the Cornucopia, it would be downright miserable in here if the temperature got even close to what it had been on previous days.

Bastion and Cato were conferring about the traps again, and planning the next move, as I walked out of the Cornucopia. Ben and I lurked side by side, sharing a container of water—yet drinking it sparingly—as we waited around for them to finish. I glanced up at the sky; thick clouds still gathered above. There was a sporadic breeze that made it more tolerable than anticipated out here. In fact, while it was warm, it didn't feel like the temperature had increased at all since we'd set off from camp over an hour ago. Had the Gamemakers decided to take it easy on us since they removed our water source? That seemed uncharacteristically generous of them, but maybe they were just happy we were moving. I supposed I should be grateful, but I was slightly on edge. Changes in the environment always made me nervous.

Perhaps twenty minutes later, they rejoined us. Bastion informed everyone that he and Chiffon would be staying at the Cornucopia so that he could begin rigging more traps in the tree line, using some of the supplies we'd brought over. He wanted to take advantage of it not being very hot outside, and Chiffon would help stand guard.

They wanted to get the additional traps set up quickly. If all nearby water sources had dried up, it was safe to assume that other tributes could be on the move, too. This way, someone could watch over the Cornucopia while the rest of us grabbed the rest of the supplies back at the other camp. Cato seemingly realized this was the best way to avoid wasting time, so the four of us set off.

Stuck with Ben, Caspian, and Cato…the person who wanted to protect me, and the two who probably wanted me dead the most. If someone had told me on Reaping Day that I'd be traveling with this group, I probably would have laughed until I was blue in the face.

We approached the trees, prepared to head back to camp and the others. Caspian was momentarily quiet, and I tried to enjoy the peace and quiet, along with the fact that it wasn't as hot. The sporadic breeze was a new feature in this Arena, gently rustling through the forest and caressing my cheeks. The forest itself seemed darker than usual today, without direct sunlight breaking through the tree canopy.

After maybe ten minutes of relative tranquility—Cato wasn't exactly a conversationalist and Ben and didn't want to speak too much with the others eavesdropping—the boy from District 4 felt the urge to break the silence.

"I have a question about District 7." Amber eyes glinted, telling me it was a question I wouldn't like.

"I'd rather not talk about it," I responded. Why would Caspian be asking, if not to torment me somehow? Tributes from different districts didn't talk about their homes very often, especially a Career talking to someone from an outer district. Actually…had that ever happened?

"You don't even know what the question is."

"I know I won't like it," I stated coolly.

"I'm just trying to get to know my allies even better," Caspian drawled. I brushed past a leafy bush, trying to focus on the gentle gust of wind blowing past and not the boy's obnoxious demeanor.

"I think we know each other well enough."

"So prickly. Has she always been like this?" He asked, turning to direct the question at Ben.

Ben was not amused. "Maybe you should just take the hint," he said curtly.

Caspian grinned, but there was something unnerving in his expression. "If I'm helping to protect her, the least she can do is play along," he said.

That annoyed me. As if Caspian was doing anything of the sort. He had only agreed not to kill me because Ben had probably promised something in return, and I knew the agreement was temporary. Caspian phrasing it as if he were doing me a favor immediately got under my skin.

"Ben is the one protecting me," I retorted before Ben could say anything.

"And how long will that district loyalty last, I wonder?" the blonde asked idly.

"Not all of us threaten to stab people from our district," I bit back, remembering when Caspian had pointed the trident at Azure's wound, using her as bait. Ben made a sound of agreement.

"Oh, did that bother you?"

"This conversation is what's bothering me," I snapped, shifting my gaze to stare ahead, the memory of that behavior striking a nerve. Another breeze picked up, this one slightly stronger, whistling through the leaves all around. Why was I even acknowledging Caspian at all? It was obvious that all he wanted was a reaction.

Caspian snickered. "But you still haven't given me a chance to ask my question about District 7."

"Can you stop?" Cato cut in, his cold tone slicing through the growing tension. "This conversation is pointless." I momentarily felt something close to triumph, because surely his words would shut Caspian up, before my partner added, "She isn't even remotely interesting. Why are you wasting your time?"

Figures, he just had to throw an insult in.

Caspian made a noise of amusement. "On the contrary. I find her immensely entertaining."

"Yes, because I exist solely as a source of entertainment for you," I shot back, even more annoyed now that they were talking about me as if I weren't there.

"Well, if that's the case, there are other ways you could entertain me, too." Caspian gave me a knowing look.

And the lecherous tone was back. I fought back a wave of revulsion.

"What is wrong with you?" Ben snapped, as I glared daggers at Caspian. Even Cato was eyeing the other boy with incredulity, as if he couldn't believe the other boy's train of thought had gone in that direction.

But the boy from 4 just let out a laugh—a cruel sound, echoing in the stillness—and turned back to the front, allowing us to resume our trek in silence.

I was so taut with annoyance, vainly trying to suppress the slow-building anger, that it took me a moment to notice. To realize the way Caspian's voice had echoed in the forest oddly, to figure out exactly why the silence between the group felt more oppressive than normal afterward.

It was because the forest itself had quieted noticeably.

The instant I made the observation, I felt it—the dread, suppressed to the back of my mind, rushing forward in full force. The familiarity of the emotion, the sick and twisted ways it pulled at my insides. It brought a horrid sense of déjà vu. I vainly tried to force it back, along with the memory of the massive, hissing scorpion, so that I could focus on my surroundings better. I couldn't lose myself in dread anytime something seemed out of the ordinary. I couldn't drown in the memories when I had to be here, in the present.

A breezed swirled around me again, cooling any sweat that was accumulating during the fast hike, but I barely noticed. We were still walking, and our footsteps seemed loud, because the ambiance of the forest was nearly silent. It had probably been gradual—which was why I hadn't noticed it immediately—but now that I was specifically paying attention, it was entirely obvious. The wildlife had burrowed or flown away, there were fewer insects buzzing about, and the main source of noise was the wind, which was blowing more frequently and in stronger gusts each time.

Instinct made me stop walking, and I looked up at the sky intently. Clouds still obscured the blue, but had they been that thick earlier?

The dread worsened, sinking in my stomach like a heavy stone.

"June?" The voice came from in front of me; Ben had stopped walking, and was observing me with a questioning look. The others, hearing him, turned around to see what the hold-up was.

"Do you hear that?" I asked. The edge was evident in my voice already.

Cato looked immensely annoyed as he paused, clearly listening for a moment. "Hear what? It's just wind."

"Exactly," I said, voice thick with nerves. That instant, I saw recognition flare in Ben's eyes.

"The forest is too quiet," he said, gently, eyes skimming the sky as mine had. I could see that his entire body had tensed. We experienced bad storms from time to time in District 7. The forest always got quiet like this, just beforehand.

It also got quiet before terrible things happened, like the fog Autumn had seen, or the giant scorpion lurking nearby.

Another gust of wind—this one even stronger, causing my nervousness to increase tenfold with it. It felt like the temperature had cooled down several degrees, too, in the last few minutes.

I vainly adjusted my gaze towards the north, trying to peer as far as I could through the forest canopy above. I didn't see any fog or mist, but…

Was I just imagining it, or did the sky look grey in that direction?

"So? We're wasting time," Cato snapped. I could feel his eyes boring into me, impatient to get a move on, but I ignored him for several seconds, staring into the sky as far north as I could see with my vision mostly obstructed by the forest.

"There might be a storm coming," I replied quietly. "Look north—do you see it?"

"It does look like it, yeah," Ben replied contemplatively.

As if on cue, our conversation was interrupted by a distant rumble, low but still menacing: thunder. Definitely a storm, then. I felt my tension increase further.

Cato scoffed, just as Caspian taunted, "What, scared of a little rain, June?"

Normally, I wouldn't care. The rain would be welcome after all of the heat. But…

I didn't like the timing. And I didn't like how quiet the forest had gotten. It was always a sign, here in the Games.

I shifted uncomfortably, uneasiness having unfurled deep within me, the dread trying to pull me down with it. Leaves swirled around us as the wind gusted again, and I felt goosebumps on my skin.

"Even more reason to get back to camp, then," Cato said impatiently, sounding like he was speaking through gritted teeth.

But my feet were rooted in place. Maybe I was overreacting, or paranoid, but I couldn't escape the nerves clutching at me. And how many times had my caution helped me in this Arena?

Another rumble of thunder in the distance, like the growl of a threatening animal.

"I don't think we should go that way," I said, finally making eye contact with Cato.

His eyes flashed in disbelief. "Where else would we go?"

I bit my lip briefly, knowing he was going to be annoyed, but I couldn't just ignore my instinct. Not when it was pulling at me, begging me to turn around. I shifted my eyes back, staring at the growing storm to the north. It looked like the sky had darkened further...as if it were heading right in our direction. Were the storm clouds moving that quickly?

"Back to the Cornucopia. Wait out the storm."

Caspian let out a bark of disbelieving laughter, but Cato looked completely incredulous.

"You cannot be serious."

"Something feels off," I replied, almost hesitantly, knowing how it sounded. "We shouldn't get caught in the storm."

Wind pulled at us again, stirring up leaves around our feet. The temperature was getting even cooler, I thought. Something about this just felt…wrong.

"She may be right," Ben said, coming to my defense.

Cato glanced towards the north, scrutinizing for a second, and I took the opportunity to add, "We're not even fifteen minutes from the Cornucopia, less if we move faster. It isn't that far out of the way." Surely, he could hear the raw uneasiness in my voice? Surely, he'd understand I was being totally sincere in my concerns?

Another round of thunder echoed in the distance, sounding slightly louder.

"If you're frightened of thunderstorms, I'll protect you," Caspian said, the smirk obvious in his voice.

"I'm being serious right now," I snapped back, nerves rubbed raw. "I really don't want to be caught in it."

"So, your paranoia is going to dictate all of our decisions now?" Cato asked, but his eyes were surveying me, scrutinizing, and his tone wasn't as harsh as it had been previously. He was debating.

"Honestly, rain would feel pretty good right about now," Caspian added thoughtfully. "We can maybe refill our supplies, too."

I let out a noise of frustration. "Just listen to me," I snapped. "That's exactly the issue! The Gamemakers drained the pond a couple of hours ago. The whole point was to deprive our water source, to get us to move. And then now, it just happens to rain? They take away one convenience, just to provide us with another? How does that make any sense?" At the end of the tirade, I was staring at Cato intensely, my eyes boring into his.

And he, I noticed, was still contemplating my words, eyes narrowed.

"I think it's going to be a pretty bad storm, too," Ben said, tossing me a glance before elaborating, "I'm a lumberjack, so I'm out in the woods a lot. Sometimes you just get a feelfor when it's going to be a big one. The animals always get quiet like this. So, I'm with her."

Caspian scoffed again, still disbelieving, but my eyes were fixated on Cato's icy ones. My partner was arrogant, cold, and brutal, but he wasn't stupid.

The wind howled again, and it had really picked up speed. Surely, the others could tell something was coming?

"I just want to ride out the storm in the Cornucopia to be safe. Just in case," I added, voice completely tinged with desperation. "Please."

I could, in theory, just run off with Ben. But if Cato died, that would make everything way harder.

Part of me loathed having to sacrifice a bit of my pride to say the word "please," to practically plead with Cato, but what choice did I have?

The grey was even darker now, and it was even more obvious that it was headed this way. The storm would probably reach us in a few minutes if we didn't move. The clouds were clearly moving fast.

There were a couple more seconds of silence, before Cato glanced towards the north again, then let out a frustrated noise.

Maybe it was the fact that I had said "please." Maybe it was the fact that Ben was agreeing with me.

Or maybe, just maybe, Cato agreed with our point.

Either way, I felt profound relief at his next words.

"Fine. Come on," he snapped. With a scowl, he turned and brushed past us, heading back south in the direction of the Cornucopia, clearly annoyed.

But he had seen reason. I glanced at Ben, and saw my relief mirrored in his eyes.

So, ignoring Caspian's disbelieving comment, I turned to follow Cato. Our pace was a very fast walk now, and I glanced over my shoulder. Hopefully we'd avoid it entirely. The Cornucopia was less than fifteen minutes away, at this pace.

But, despite my immediate relief when Cato had agreed to take the cautious route, I felt my nerves continuing to build as we made our way back towards the Cornucopia.

Five minutes passed, with me continuously glancing behind us. The wind was almost howling now, blowing from due north in bursts, and there were fewer breaks between gusts. The temperature had dropped even further ahead of the growing storm. The thunder was growing in volume, and now the storm clouds were close enough that I could see the intermittent flashes of lightning far behind us.

I knew Ben could sense it, too; the air was practically fraught with anticipation. Every time I looked over my shoulder, the edge of the grey line of clouds was growing closer and closer. We were only halfway back now, but the storm was moving fast, hot on our trail. In fact, I would almost bet the Gamemakers were speeding it up on purpose.

A particularly loud crack of thunder resounded through the overcast sky.

It was going to catch us.

"We should speed up," I said.

And, despite Cato's reluctance, we did, breaking into a jog.

Unfortunately, we were still too slow, or perhaps the storm was still speeding up, too.

I felt its presence at our backs, growing ever closer. Looming ominously. A Capitol creation, hunting us down, chasing us mercilessly. I wasn't sure exactly what to expect, but I had an idea, based on storms I'd seen over the years in previous Games. Torrential downpours, lightning strikes, maybe even funnels of wind that could tear a tribute apart. I swallowed nervously as the sky became ever darker, the ominous grey clouds beginning to creep overhead.

Almost instinctively, we picked up the pace again, getting closer to a run than a jog.

We were almost back to the Cornucopia. I could just see the edge of the tree line a ways ahead—with Cato carefully steering us in a direction to the left of where Bastion's closest traps were set up—when the wind began to gust so strongly that I felt it pulling at me, threatening to unbalance me. I staggered, glancing up and behind me, to see that the storm clouds had reached us, stretching overhead.

We pushed forwards, and even Caspian was silent now, perhaps sensing the intensity of the storm clawing at our backs.

Or maybe his words were just lost amidst the wind, roaring in our ears.

We were almost to the tree line when the Gamemakers finally saw fit to release the first few drops of rain that the clouds had been clutching tightly.

I had expected heavy rain, intense wind, and lightning.

I had not expected the first drop of rain that touched my skin—in the middle of my right hand—to sear against my skin, burning as if someone had struck a match and held it to me.

I let out a yelp of pain, staring at the small red welt on my right hand almost incredulously for a split second, before I felt another on my shoulder—cutting right through my clothes, burning into my skin.

It wasn't normal rain, I realized, even as another stinging droplet landed on my head. It felt like an open flame had been briefly touched to the spot where each raindrop connected.

It was acid, or some type of chemical water, or some other Capitol concoction specifically engineered to cut straight through our clothes and burn us.

The others had started to get hit, too—I heard hisses and cries of pain, and shocked exclamations, before Cato yelled, "RUN!"

But I had already started sprinting. Terror had exploded within my chest the instant I realized what was happening and I had jolted forward, dashing towards the tree line as fast as I possibly could.

I clutched my left hand around my axe as tightly as I could, trying to hold it at an angle in front of me where the rain wouldn't sear into that hand, as I knew that might force me to reflexively drop it. Cato was sprinting ahead of us, his huge form breaking through the thinner undergrowth with no issues, with Ben and I running side by side and Caspian just to the left of us. I ran heedlessly, feeling another sharp jolt of pain on my right arm, then on my neck, and another on my scalp. Sharp cries of pain were escaping my lips but I continued to run, the terror and instinct to get the hell out of here momentarily outweighing the stinging ache caused by each raindrop.

We were at the very edge of the storm—there was just a light smattering of raindrops here, not a downpour. But the trees were thinner this close to the desert, as was the canopy above; they didn't provide enough in the way of shelter. That much was already evident. If we slowed down for an instant, or fell behind, or got caught in the bulk of the storm…

We'd be coated with the acidic rain. Every inch of us would be soaked and burned. Even if it somehow weren't lethal, it would be excruciating.

Another raindrop had struck me on my right wrist, then right arm, scalp, legs…I hissed as a raindrop glanced against my forehead. I used my shirtsleeve to wipe it away before liquid could trickle into my eye. I threw my right arm up, as if it could somehow help block my face from getting hit again. I could hear from the pained sounds of the others that they were beginning to get pelted even more, too. The storm was still faster than us, and the frequency of the raindrops was increasing.

Another round of terror clawed at me, increasing my pace even further, the desperate panting and gasps of the others whipped away by a loud gust of wind.

Almost there…just a bit further…

I bit my lip, hard, as another raindrop made it past my arm and splattered against my cheek, stinging horribly, right as we burst out of the trees, making a wild dash for the Cornucopia. My gaze honed on it, seconds away, the rain and wind whipping past. Dimly, I thought I heard shouts, and I could see Bastion dashing towards the mouth of the Cornucopia from the west, almost there already, his voice drowned out in the wind.

I slipped slightly on the sand before correcting myself, throwing every ounce of energy behind my legs, feeling the ache in my muscles immediately overridden by the searing, burning raindrops. The sand slowed our sprint slightly but I kept pushing forward, gasping in pain, terror driving me onward.

I let out a cry of agony as more droplets splattered all along my arms and shoulders, others searing into my scalp, or nicking at my legs, sharp pinpricks of pain radiating all over my body. Dread threatened to overwhelm me.

The downpour was starting. We couldn't outrun it anymore.

My right arm was getting the worst of it—I could feel at least a dozen tiny stings—but a lot of my body was rapidly being covered in small burns from the rain. A choked sound escaped my lips as I heaved in a deep breath, throwing myself forward in my pure, unadulterated fear and desperation to escape the storm.

But we were there.

We'd made it to the Cornucopia.

Cato had already sprinted into the mouth—how he was that fast at his size was a marvel, though I supposed strength factored in—the rest of us immediately behind. We hurled ourselves in at full speed, tripping and stumbling past the supplies in our haste. Gasping, the four of us catapulted into the back of the structure, slowing only just before we collided with the back end (and Chiffon and Bastion, who were already back there), slipping and sliding on the thin, flat dirt that made up the floor of the structure.

The rain was increasing in frequency now, the downpour finally arriving, but the acidic droplets couldn't cut through the metal of the Cornucopia.

All six of us stood in a bedraggled group at the very back of the structure. Most of us were panting heavily, as far away from the mouth as we could get. Chiffon had already been in here, apparently, and was completely unscathed and staring at us all in shock; Bastion had escaped with just a handful of injuries.

We were clustered at the tail of the Cornucopia, completely disregarding the uncomfortable proximity in our desire to get as far away from the burning rain as possible. The rain was hammering heavily on the roof. Thankfully, the Cornucopia was big enough that—even with the gusts of wind—the rain wasn't being blown all the way back here. I supposed it was fortunate that the wind wasn't blowing directly from the west, but even with that, the dirt in the front area of the Cornucopia was getting slightly damp.

For a moment, there was absolute silence in the group, as the storm raged away outside. A loud clap of thunder made me wince. The sound resonated overhead, and I felt like the entire Arena could hear it.

Or maybe this storm was just for us.

Either way, it didn't look like we were going to be struck by lightning yet, and as the adrenaline began to wear off, the pain was settling in.

And there was plenty of it.

"Are you okay?" Ben asked, hoarsely, breaking the silence. I turned to see his eyes trained on me.

Of course, he would ask about me first. Something twisted in my gut.

I grimaced, giving myself a once over. Each raindrop had left a small welt—or a burn, more accurately—in its wake. A dull sting emanated from each burn, as if someone had lit a match and poked me in dozens of places all over my body. It wasn't as sharp of pain as when the raindrop first connected with my skin, but it was still horribly uncomfortable, the stinging constant.

Each raindrop had burned a small hole straight through my clothing, to leave a mark on the skin underneath wherever it touched. It was almost…precise. Controlled. The forest outside looked entirely undamaged. The rain was tailored specifically to burn through whatever our clothing material was, and harm human skin. Whatever chemicals the Gamemakers put in that water to make it do that, I didn't even want to know.

My back was mostly unscathed; apparently, the material of this backpack was either thick enough or of a material unaffected by whatever compounds were in the burning rain. It was the same with my boots; there were no holes or any visible damage. Perhaps the material was resistant, or they'd been treated specifically to protect from the rain.

My left arm and hand had been held in front of me so that I wouldn't drop my weapon, but my right arm—which I'd held up to protect my face and head—had the most injuries. It was peppered with more than a dozen red marks, like an allergic reaction.

I glanced up at Ben, not sure what to say, just giving a slight shake of my head. "Not ideal. You?"

He let out a heavy sigh, discomfort contorting his expression. "Deadly rain. What's next?"

I felt my stomach sink, because I truly didn't want to know.

The Careers had spread out a bit more, after realizing the rain wasn't going to be blown all the way back here, and each of them were examining their injuries. Bastion only had a few burn marks, as he'd been just a stone's throw from the Cornucopia. Chiffon must have been in here already when the storm hit…lucky her.

Cato, Caspian and Ben had all been wearing backpacks, like me, so they were in roughly the same position I was, with most of their injuries concentrated elsewhere. Cato had rolled up his shirtsleeve with a scowl and was examining the red marks on his skin in stony silence.

For once, Caspian did not look remotely entertained or amused. His smirking expression had been replaced by a mask of annoyance as he catalogued the small burns, as well.

Somehow, the lack of amusement and snide comments was far more unnerving than Caspian's usual demeanor.

The next few minutes were spent digging through the supplies to find some medicine that would help with our injuries. Regrettably, we had left a lot of the medicine back at camp, as we didn't want it sitting at the Cornucopia all day when we hadn't expected to be here. We only had a handful of containers with us.

Unfortunately, the medicine was had was more for cuts and lacerations than anything. I hadn't brought the medicine I'd used before, but I doubted even that would help. We had some gauze and bandages, too, but it seemed largely irrelevant. The burns didn't appear to hurt any less even when protected from open air. There was one tub of gel that looked like it would be well suited for burns, but our injuries weren't normal. Instead of the gel soothing the angry red marks, it just aggravated them more, made them sting fiercely (Ben found out the hard way). So, was even burn cream effective?

It was unfortunate, because while the burns didn't appear to be life threatening, they were miserably uncomfortable and relentless. I could hardly sit still. I supposed I should be thankful that the wounds appeared to be superficial only.

If we'd been caught in the absolute deluge of rain that was currently hammering the Cornucopia, though, it would have been an entirely different story. It would have been excruciating to be coated in that rain, and even if we survived it, nearly every inch of us would have been covered in these burns. Would we even be able to move? Being immobile could be a death sentence in itself.

Once again, trusting my instincts had quite possibly saved my life. Or at least prevented horrific injury.

And not just for me…for three others, too.

Cato had to be fully aware of that. I could sense his frustration and annoyance under the surface; I wondered if any of that was related to the fact that the girl from District 7 had been right, and had just saved him from a world of pain, at the very least.

Or maybe I was giving myself too much credit. Maybe he wasn't thinking of me at all, and was instead growing more and more irritated due to the fact that none of the small tubs of medicine in here did much to help.

And—even more annoyingly—pouring cool water on the injuries didn't help, either. It only made the burning sensation intensify, and I gritted my teeth, regretting even trying that.

In a twisted way, it was probably better that flushing the wounds with water didn't help. We couldn't afford to waste water.

So, for now, our burns (or whatever they were) would be left alone. There was nothing on hand that was suited to treat the injuries caused by the rain, as uncomfortable as we all were. They looked and felt like burns, but treating them the traditional way didn't help.

Needless to say, the mood was stark—particularly between Cato, me, Ben, and Caspian, as Bastion scarcely had injuries—as we waited for said rain to end.

Fortunately, the downpour began to slow after maybe ten minutes, the sound of droplets on the roof of the Cornucopia becoming less and less frequent. Still, we didn't move yet, because we wanted to be absolutely sure that the storm was over. That the Gamemakers had had enough.

As the sound of raindrops above us became sporadic at best, Ben and I were huddled against the opposite wall as the others. I was chewing on my lip, trying my hardest to ignore the various points of discomfort all over my body. I'd burned my finger somewhat badly, once, when cooking at home, a long time ago. There wasn't even a scar now, but it had stung for a long time. It was like that now, except dozens of places all over my body. Even my rear end had burns, and sitting on the ground was uncomfortable.

At least it wasn't hot in here, though. The weather outside was cool, so it was temperate inside the Cornucopia.

I just kept thinking about how close that had been to disaster. It wasn't my first brush with death. It probably wouldn't be my last. But it was still hard not to dwell.

I was that close to never seeing my family again.

Their faces swam before my vision, and I tried to push them away. Thinking of them caused a powerful mixture of homesickness and guilt—which had been added in after Autumn's death—that tried to drag me under. They were my motivation for being here, but I couldn't get distracted. I knew what I was fighting for, but if I thought about it too long, I just got even more miserable knowing I was stuck in here and my odds weren't good.

I idly twisted my mother's ring around my finger, staring aimlessly at the packed dirt of the Cornucopia; unlike the surrounding area, there was no sand in here. I supposed it already got miserably hot (on a normal day) inside these walls, and a sandy floor would only exacerbate the issue. Caspian was muttering something to Chiffon, but even he was clearly still in a bad mood, feeling the same, miserable discomfort that I was. My gaze flicked towards that side of the Cornucopia, almost immediately wandering over to Cato. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, having refused to sit.

I realized with a jolt that he was already watching me, eyes narrowed. I couldn't read the expression on his face, but as we made eye contact, his jaw visibly clenched. He held my gaze for just a second before turning away, eyes flashing. Every line of Cato's body indicated that he was angry.

I shouldn't feel just the tiniest bit of smugness. I shouldn't. It was petty, and unbecoming. And I couldn't exactly be high and mighty. I too was miserable, sitting here covered in small injuries.

But I had been right. My instincts were correct, and we were better off by listening to my suggestion to take shelter. I was sure Cato absolutely loathed that.

See? Just because I'm not a Career doesn't mean I'm useless, I thought.

I looked back down at the ground, trying to keep a straight face. The last thing I needed to do was piss him off in a confined area.

But, for just the briefest of moments, despite the general pain and discomfort I was outwardly feeling, I allowed myself to enjoy the tiny bit of pride worming its way through me.

…

Sometime later, Bastion decided to step outside of the Cornucopia again and check our surroundings. The wind had long since died down, and he waited until we hadn't heard any rain for at least half an hour.

There was an issue, however, that caused the hesitancy.

Despite the fact that rain was no longer assailing the roof of the Cornucopia and the wind was no longer battering the sides, the sky was still incredibly dark. As if the clouds could open at any second, dumping the searing rain onto all of our heads.

I didn't hear any thunder currently, but nerves still clutched at me. My wounds stung, reminding me of the agony of each burning raindrop. The last thing I wanted was to get caught in it again.

We had one single rain coat between us (which Bastion currently wore, as it was too small for Cato), and one tarp. Everything else that could have helped protect us from rain was back at camp. But even the raincoat wouldn't do enough, I thought. It only fell to Bastion's knees, but wouldn't cover every single inch of his skin from the rain.

And that was assuming the raincoat would even repel the rain at all. I could just picture the Gamemakers' amusement if they provided a raincoat that didn't actually protect against the types of storms in this Arena.

Still, after a tense moment, Bastion gestured to indicate it was safe for now, and Cato stepped out behind him. The rain truly had stopped...but for how long, we didn't know. As I emerged from the mouth of the Cornucopia after them, I examined my surroundings cautiously, staying close to the mouth just in case I needed to turn and run right back in. I winced, as the severe discomfort from the various small injuries had not ceased in the slightest.

The grey skies stretched overhead in every direction, dark and imposing. I didn't see any lightning or hear the telltale thunder, but I knew that could change any second. Despite the fact that the rain had ended less than an hour ago, the sand already looked dry. Oddly so, providing an additional reminder of how unnatural the environment and the storm were, here in the Arena.

I shivered despite myself, but it wasn't because of the cool air; it was because the atmosphere itself was menacing. The wind was light again—maybe the growing gusts were an indicator of when the rain was about to hit, I thought—but any relief that would come from pleasantly cool weather was outweighed by all of our unease.

It was like the Gamemakers had raised a weapon and were poised to strike, the second they saw something they didn't like. Surely the entire Arena wasn't like this? All I saw was grey, but I assumed the actual patches of rain only covered small areas. They wouldn't want to subject all of their tributes to the exact same danger at once. And they had to keep careful control of just how many died, since the second Arena would start after just five more deaths.

But nobody had died from it yet. I was sure that bothered them…which didn't bode well for us.

Well, one thing was sure. The overcast skies and ominous weather were far too imposing for us to want to return to camp right now. Not when another storm could erupt any second. Even Caspian, despite his bravado, seemed to have no desire to leave the Cornucopia before the skies cleared up. All of us felt the stinging pain of our last attempt.

If the grey skies persisted too long, I knew we'd have another issue. We'd have to find water, at some point.

But for now, it seemed like the best course of action was to wait it out.

I, of course, could never fully brush off the foreboding. I hated how everything we did was being overseen, tightly controlled. They had drained the water to force us to move, then instigated the storm to keep us in place. Go, stay. Go, stay. Every single thing was dictated by the Gamemakers' whim.

And, if they wanted us to stay here for now, I just couldn't help but think that there was a reason for it.

But I couldn't linger on those thoughts. Each of my small, angry red welts stung, and the discomfort was always at the forefront of my mind.

Ben and I moved to stand to the side, still close to the mouth of the Cornucopia. I took a deep breath; there was a faintly unpleasant scent lingering in the air. Probably from whatever the Gamemakers had infused in the rain. Bastion and Cato had walked a short distance towards the tree line, seemingly in some type of intense discussion, glancing towards the Cornucopia sporadically. Caspian was still lounging about on a sleeping bag next to Chiffon, back inside.

Trying to focus on my rumbling stomach instead of the pinpricks of pain all over my body, I tore into a beef strip, my eyes roving across Ben's clothing. I was sure I looked as rough as he did.

"Hey," he said softly. His green eyes darted over the others, and settled back on me. Now that we were alone, I suspected I knew what he was going to say. Ben was good-natured enough that it was almost expected at this point.

"You saved my life. Our lives. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to point it out before, but…thanks, June," he continued, keeping his voice low.

"Hey, you backed me up out there. I should be thanking you, too," I responded, noting the fact that Ben must have observed Cato's annoyance, too, and decided to avoid setting off the dangerous boy's temper.

Ben shook his head. "I don't know if I would've said something. If you weren't there."

I raised my eyebrows. "Well, it's a good thing I was there then, huh?" I tried to keep my voice light, but it still came out a bit strained. It was hard to focus on anything besides my general discomfort right now.

Ben and I grew silent then, focusing on eating instead of the dull, persistent pain of our injuries, and the quiet was unbroken as we finished up our quick meal.

That is, until a faint sound reached my ears.

A distant chime.

My eyes widened with disbelief, as it only took me an instant to recognize the sound. I glanced around, hope rising in my chest, scanning intently for the parachute as the distinctive chiming grew louder.

Someone was getting a Sponsor gift.

And then I saw it—the silver parachute, gently floating down, dropped by a silent, invisible hovercraft somewhere above with disturbing accuracy.

Heading right towards me and Ben.

I stared, completely mesmerized, as the parachute and attached canister continued its slow descent, before landing softly in the sand just a short distance away from the two of us. The silver canister had no outward indication of who it was for, but the two of us were by far the closest to it.

My lips parted in slight disbelief, Ben and I made our way over to see what the gift was. I dimly registered out of the corner of my eye that Bastion and Cato had turned to stare, and noises behind me suggested the other two were stirring with the Cornucopia. Probably wanting to see what all the fuss was about.

"Open it," he encouraged softly. "Maybe it's for you. You saved us from the storm."

I was still wordless. I felt hope rising in my chest as I eyed the canister, before bending down and removing the parachute. I then quickly opened the canister and my heart soared—inside was a nondescript plastic tub. Medicine. It had to be. Our injuries weren't life-threatening, but still. None of the medicine we had treated our burns, and all of us were suffering for it. And I doubted the Capitol would want to see some of their favorite Career tributes suffering.

I screwed off the lid—now fully cognizant of the fact that the other Careers were approaching. The tub was a decent size, filled almost all the way to the top. Enough for multiple tributes; the meaning was clear, despite the fact that there was no note or instructions attached. I glanced at Ben before dipping my finger in the medicine. It was a light creamy substance that felt cool to the touch. Tentatively, I got just the tiniest amount on my fingertip, spreading it across the angry red burn mark on my right hand.

Instant relief. I let out a heavy sigh, turning my eyes to the sky, knowing there were cameras on me, the Sponsors watching.

"Thank you," I said out loud, hoping my gratitude leaked into my voice. I could practically sense Johanna scoffing and saying something like, 'see, things work out when you don't act like a brainless moron, don't they?'

"Well, well, well," Caspian's grating voice called out from nearby, startling me. I spun around to realize the other four had approached us and were observing my actions keenly. "Looks like the Sponsors were feeling generous." There was something in his expression that unnerved me, and a smirk curled the boy's lips. "You're going to share, right?"

I felt an undercurrent of nerves as I realized that this situation could take a dark turn if I weren't careful. It was obvious what he was implying: things may get hostile if I refused to share. Typical Career mindset. There would be repercussions if I tried to hoard it.

But I wasn't dumb enough to do that, and I didn't even need to consider it. Because, with the amount of medicine sent, it was obvious we were all supposed to share it. It had landed closest to Ben and me, but it was for the group.

"Obviously," I said coolly, trying to keep my voice level. "There's enough for all of us."

Caspian's gaze was burning into me. "Let me guess. You two are going to use it first?" he responded sardonically.

"It's only fair," Ben interjected, eyes skimming the others. "June's instincts are the only reason that our injuries aren't way worse."

If it were up to you, we would have walked right into the storm, I added mentally, knowing it was probably better to stay silent. Even though I was very close to saying it out loud.

But I was right. Caspian's arrogance could have seriously cost us.

Caspian raised an eyebrow, silent for just a couple of heartbeats. His eyes glittered with something dangerous. "Looks like I'm in her debt, then," he responded finally, but there was an undercurrent in his tone that I really didn't like.

Cato had a dark expression on his face, eyes fixated on the container in my hands. "Stop talking and just get on with it," he said impatiently.

He wasn't arguing with Ben's point, then. He still seemed bothered by the whole thing. His gigantic ego was probably suffering for it. Good.

I brushed the notion aside, turning back to Ben. "Do you think you can help me with some of these?" I could reach most of the injuries, but I also wanted a distraction from the fact that the stares of four Careers were boring into the two of us.

I needed to be as cautious as possible about not using more medicine than strictly necessary. I was fully aware of the severe discomfort Cato and Caspian in particular were feeling, and the last thing I wanted was one of them knocking me out to take the medicine away because they thought I was wasting it. I could totally see that happening.

I began to gingerly apply the cream to each red mark. Fortunately, each burn only required a miniscule amount. I was incredibly meticulous about not wasting any of the precious medicine, resisting the urge to sigh in relief each time a pinprick of pain went away. Midway through treating them, Caspian made a suggestive remark about some of them being on my upper thighs and rear end—causing Ben to become noticeably uncomfortable—but obviously, I insisted on treating those myself.

Still, I felt my face heating up due to the intensity of the gazes of the others on me, and their scrutiny, and I vainly tried to force that reaction down. I didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing they were unnerving me or making me feel self-conscious. This would all have been easier if I removed my clothing down to my undergarments, but I wasn't doing that here (and I knew the Careers wouldn't give me privacy, because they were paranoid about me using all of the medicine).

There was a lot of medicine left when I was done, and it was Ben's turn. Unlike me, he did strip down to his undershorts, but I bit back the discomfort because his injuries were far easier to treat that way. We still had a Career audience as I helped him with those he couldn't reach, and I could practically sense the others' anticipation growing as the minutes passed. They might as well have been starving dogs, foaming at the mouths when they saw food.

Not that I blamed them. Now that my own pain was eased, I could understand their desperation to treat their own small burns.

Once Ben was done, I grabbed the container of medicine and held it out to an expressionless Cato, who took it wordlessly.

Not even a thank you. Must raise them without manners in District 2, I thought dryly. I was in better spirits now that my pain had eased.

"Wow, June. Him first?" The boy from 4 asked, raising an eyebrow. "And I thought we had something special." While the comment was delivered sarcastically, there was a hint of genuine annoyance, and I could tell Caspian hated the fact that he was having to wait longer. I heard Chiffon scoff from where she was observing nearby.

"I'm sure you'll recover," I snapped back, before striding off towards the mouth of the Cornucopia a short distance away. I had no desire to wait around for Cato and Caspian to treat their injuries. Besides, Cato wouldn't ask me to help him the way Ben had (not that I'd ever want him to). I was pretty sure he would rather die and lose the Games than ask me to do something for him.

But I felt self-satisfied nonetheless. I'd gotten my partner to listen to reason, and had protected us from severe injury (hell, maybe saved our lives) as a result. And then we'd gotten a Sponsor gift. It showed that they were at least paying attention. That people were really rooting for us; I was sure the medicine had cost a lot.

And—if I were completely honest with myself—it made me feel a tiny bit better to have protected Ben, after I hadn't been able to save Autumn.

…

Once the pain from all of the angry red marks had been soothed (Capitol medicine was truly a miracle of advancement that I couldn't understand), we weren't really sure what to do.

The Careers were restless, and I knew they wanted to be doing something—anything—besides just sitting around. But the skies were still threatening overhead; and then, we heard distant thunder again, which caused all of us to immediately retreat back into the Cornucopia. From then on, we heard sporadic and distant rumbles, just on the edges of our hearing. Far away, but menacing. It let us know that the Gamemakers could unleash something on us whenever they so chose.

For a little while, we sorted out the supplies we had brought this morning. Even though we didn't bring everything, it was still fairly time-consuming. It was difficult to separate the absolute "most important, someone has to bring this" items from other extra weapons and tools. Plus, there was a chance that we wouldn't be coming back here for a while…or ever, if there was no water source within a reasonable distance (I knew better than anyone that this was a possibility). So, we had to operate on the assumption that things left behind may never be retrieved again.

We (well, mostly the Careers) put the most indispensable supplies in a couple piles near the very back. A lot of the medicine and other useful items were back with Lambent and Azure, though. I wondered if they had been trapped in the storm. They had tents and tarps there; if it had rained, maybe those provided protection. Surely, those two were smart enough to realize why we weren't back yet…but you never knew with Lambent.

Once we'd sorted what was lying around, Bastion debated risking tinkering with the traps again. He had the sole rain coat, after all. There was a tiny bit of medicine left in case the storm kicked up.

It seemed stupidly risky to me. But the Careers were stir-crazy, anxious. They wanted to get out and look for people to kill.

A cannon sounded before he could make up his mind.

I flinched despite myself, then tried to control my outward reaction; was the cannon related to the rain? Was it nearby? I could just never get used to that sound, even though I knew every time I heard it, my chances of winning got a tiny bit better.

Ben put a gentle hand on my arm from where he sat next to me, but I could feel the tension in his form. I tried to take a deep breath and force my fluttering heartbeat to relax. I felt, rather than saw, Cato's eyes on me. Probably judging me for my response. I tried my best to ignore him; I didn't want to deal with his condescension right now.

Caspian, Chiffon, and Bastion, of course, reacted with excitement at the knowledge that yet someone else had died. That meant there were only four more deaths to go.

Before we'd be moved to another Arena. And have to go through this all over again.

I rested my chin on my knees, the brief improved mood I felt earlier dissipating rapidly.

The Careers shifted into discussing the game plan, again, buoyed onward by the death of another innocent tribute. As expected by now, their arrogance and hard-headedness (particularly in the cases of Caspian and Cato) meant that the conversation was not as productive as it could have been.

Ultimately, one of the more popular options was for us to head directly south. Nobody had really been too far in that direction, outside of the limited scouting the Careers had done on the first day, which hadn't led them more than a couple of hours from the Cornucopia. We had headed south during the first night I was part of the hunt, but hadn't made it too far before we ran into Azure. We had also run into a river that night, and the Careers wanted to check to see if it had been drained, as well.

Those of us that had started along the outer edges of the Arena—me, Chiffon, and Ben—hadn't come up through the Arena that way, either. The limited input I was allowed to give was to recall how miserable and lacking in water the western part of the forest was, from what I'd seen, which certainly dis-incentivized the Careers from wanting to head west.

Really, there was no telling what we'd find down towards the south. It was the most uncharted part of the Arena for all of us. When I'd surveyed the landscape from the giant tree, it had looked like there was just more forest in that direction. But, there was as good of a chance as any that there would be tributes that way.

I didn't do much in the way of voicing my opinion, regardless. Not when I didn't have any better suggestions.

Besides, I'd be dragged along with whatever plan they ultimately cooked up.

…

When I hadn't heard any thunder for quite a while, I did take the opportunity to stretch my legs, sticking very close to the Cornucopia, taking an idle stroll around the structure. I was getting tense after being around the Careers in such an enclosed space, and was worried I'd start snapping at them otherwise. Which would be a very unintelligent thing to do.

The air had remained temperate and tolerable, thankfully. We wouldn't have been able to stay in the Cornucopia otherwise. The sky was still painted a dark grey. There was no way to tell what time it was. The storm, by my guess, had started around ten this morning, but it had been several hours since then. There had been no rain since the downpour that had threatened our lives, but the thunder had been intermittent throughout the day and the clouds were ever-present. Without the sun to guide me and give me a general idea, I felt…lost.

And I still didn't like being out in the desert. As a girl who grew up in District 7, everything about the barren expanse of sand dunes just felt unnatural to me. Wrong. As miserable as that forest was, I missed the trees.

My brain idly wondered which tribute had died, despite the fact that I knew I shouldn't still be thinking about it. I shouldn't. But the analytical side of me was running through the faces of tributes I remembered, those I knew, to see who was still alive.

All of the Careers, of course, except for Ruby from 1 and Marlin from 4.

Rory, I realized with a jolt, was still alive too. Despite the fact that Ruby had been his partner and had died on the first day. He had persisted through the next several days, even without the use of one of his hands. He must have some great Sponsors.

Basil and Harrow, the two tributes I'd met from 11, were still alive. Basil's partner was the motherly woman from 3. She was still alive, too.

I was still wracking my brains when something brought me up short—a gust of chilly wind, tugging at my hair. There had been a light breeze throughout the day, but this was stronger. It immediately reminded me of the way the wind had built up earlier, just before the rain hit. And almost immediately, I heard an accompanying sound: thunder, sounding close. Closer than anything else we'd heard since the storm this morning, anyway.

I didn't hesitate, making my way back to the Cornucopia. It didn't take long for Cato and Bastion—who had been hovering around outside—to do the same. The wind was definitely picking up again; I could hear it whistling through the air.

The mood had sobered again as we all gathered at the back of the Cornucopia. The Careers were disgruntled at the prospect of being cooped up, but I was glad we'd stayed here. I internally winced at the thought of the burning raindrops searing into my skin again.

I wasn't quite sure what started first.

The sound of intermittent raindrops beginning to patter on the roof of the Cornucopia above us…

Or the startled scream in the distance, that quickly turned from fear into agony.

It appeared a nearby tribute had been caught in the storm. Or at least the beginnings of it.

I tensed as surprise (or was it anticipation?) rippled through the Careers, Cato and Caspian on their feet.

We were all staring outside intently. But we couldn't move; not when the raindrops were beginning to strike all around us. Nobody wanted to go through that again.

Yet, if someone was that close, and was being drenched in the agonizing rain, it made sense that they might run this way. Towards the edge of the forest and the Cornucopia.

Right into the hungry, waiting Careers.

But the screams hadn't stopped, I realized. Nor could I tell if they were getting closer, or moving away. They carried through the air, growing and then ebbing with the gusts of wind. Even over the ambient sounds of the storm, the cries were ongoing. The sounds were full of fear, and anguish, and suffering, and I felt sick to my stomach. Whoever it was (a young female tribute, by the sounds of it), she was clearly entirely enveloped by the dangerous, Gamemaker-engineered squall.

Was she not even trying to run? If she was so close, why couldn't we see her? It was hard to tell with the wind, but it sounded like the tribute wasn't moving very fast. Had she tried to shelter under a tree, or something?

Or…

I felt a wave of nausea crashing over to me as I was struck by a possibility. A horrible possibility.

Had she been caught in one of Bastion's traps?

Almost involuntarily, I brought a hand to my mouth.

I imagined what it would be like to start getting struck by those horrible raindrops, to be terrified and running for your life, only to be caught and trapped to be unable to escape. To be held in place, completely at the mercy of the storm.

The rain had picked up tempo more and more until it was steady, now. If the tribute were truly snared in one of Bastion's traps…she'd be getting absolutely drenched if she didn't have a raincoat. The forest was thin enough near here that the canopy would only provide some protection. Not enough.

Her body had to be covered in burns.

The screams continued, loud and horrible, only to be whisked away by another wind gust.

I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to cover my ears. That's all I wanted to do right now. I didn't want to listen to the sound of this tribute's suffering. I didn't want to imagine it. It had been bad enough getting hit by dozens of raindrops, let alone being covered head to toe. And the rain kept falling, probably aggravating her injuries further. Harsh and relentless. Burning drop, after burning drop, burning through her clothes and splattering against every inch of skin. And, if my hunch was right, the tribute was entirely unable to move or do anything to stop the horror that was happening to her.

Ben was gripping my arm tightly, I realized. Very tightly, so much that it was almost painful, his knuckles whitening. He clearly didn't even realize.

As the pain-stricken screams echoed in my ears, I glanced around the others, biting back the bile that threatened to rise in my throat.

Chiffon looked incredibly repulsed, her delicate features wrinkled with disgust. Bastion, for maybe the first time ever, wore a small frown. Cato's face was an expressionless mask. He stared out into the storm, eyes unreadable.

Caspian didn't look terrified, or repulsed. Instead, he almost looked annoyed. As if the tribute's sounds of suffering were an inconvenienceto him. I wanted to strike him across the face.

The blonde must have sensed me watching him, because his amber eyes flicked to my face and something like amusement appeared in their depths. Cruelty curved at the corners of his lips.

"Wish she'd just get on with it and die," he said mockingly, the cutting words breaking the thick silence between us, the cries of pain still echoing in the distance.

Rage and disgust erupted in my chest, and I stared at him with as much hatred as I'd ever felt for anyone.

"I mean, she's just embarrassing herself at this point."

He isn't a human being. He can't be.

"Fuck you," I spit at the boy from 4, in my fury wishing that looks could kill. Caspian didn't deserve to be in here, sheltered from the storm, while that innocent person suffered this horrifically.

"When and where?" Caspian retorted, his smirk widening.

On reflex, still blinded by absolute loathing, I shifted slightly in my spot on the ground—not even sure what the hell I expected to do against someone like Caspian, but just feeling the instinct to do something to wipe that smirk off his face—but Ben moved far quicker than I expected. He reached around, wrapping an arm around me and grabbing me firmly before I could do something incredibly reckless.

"Don't," he said quietly, green eyes imploring, the sounds of the unknown tribute's agony still rising and falling amidst the gusts of the storm.

I heard Caspian's chuckle from across the Cornucopia but I forced myself to stare into Ben's eyes, still feeling the disgust and horror and hatred swirling around in my insides. I could see those feelings mirrored on his face.

"He's not worth it," Ben added softly, imploring me not to do anything stupid.

And he was right. I took a deep breath, trying to relax, still looking at Ben and nobody else. I had almost let rage blind me into…what? Attacking Caspian? Was that what I really would have done there? I wasn't sure. Maybe I would have just stood up and yelled at him…I had just had the desperate desire to wipe that stupid expression off of the despicable boy's face.

But that wouldn't achieve anything.

It was almost reminiscent of the wine incident all over again, I realized. I had nearly lost my temper.

I couldn't afford to do that in here.

"She should decide for herself if I'm worth it," Caspian called out, the smirk still evident in his voice. "Let her try to come at me, if she wants."

"Just stop fucking talking," Cato said then, biting irritation at the forefront of his voice. "All of you."

Caspian made another amused sound, but didn't say anything else. Silence fell over us, save for the cries of pain and despair carried on the wind.

After a moment, Ben released his grip on me, once I gave him a small nod. I took another deep breath, trying to sooth my nerves, my anger raging just under the surface.

Very shortly afterward, the agonized sounds of the screaming tribute ceased.

The silence was equal parts a relief, and ominous. The rain still poured onto the roof of the Cornucopia, but there had been no cannon. The tribute was still alive. Had she just fallen unconscious from the pain, then? I hoped so. That would be merciful compared to being awake for the duration of the storm.

Or maybe she was just on the cusp of death, too weak to even scream anymore.

Again, I forced down a wave of nausea and horror, staring at the ground. I wanted to cry, or turn and bury my face into Ben's shoulder. I didn't even know who the tribute was, but hearing that…

Just another brutality of the Arena permanently etched in my brain. But it had been worse than anything else I had heard so far. The other tributes' deaths had been quick, compared to whatever this person had endured. I pulled my knees to my chest again, hugging them tightly, as if that would make the horrible thoughts go away.

The rain stopped several minutes later.

We waited a short while before the Careers took any action—just to make absolutely sure it wasn't a momentary lull—but there were no more sounds of thunder, no more loud gusts of wind. It had abated again…for now.

If there was some sort of pattern here, it would probably be several hours before it rained again (if it rained again at all). But there was no telling with the Gamemakers. Either way, it did seem that the growing wind and thunder always provided a few minutes' notice before the burning raindrops struck.

"Well," Caspian's voice again broke the silence, and I felt another flare of anger, "who is going to finish her off?"

I gritted my teeth as Cato responded coldly, "Not you."

"Oh? So it's your kill then?" Caspian's voice was challenging.

"If one of Bastion's traps caught her, it's his kill," Cato responded icily. So, he'd come to the same conclusion as me, then.

"And if not?"

"After the shit you pulled before, I don't think so," my partner bit back.

"I missed the part where we agreed that you'd unliterally decide who gets the killing blow."

Tension was gathering in the air again, thick and ominous. Bastion seemed to realize it, too.

"Maybe we should let Chiffon have it. She hasn't gotten as many opportunities as we have," the dark-haired boy volunteered.

To my surprise, the blonde made a noise of disgust. "Ew, no thanks. I don't really want to see whatever the rain did to her."

I could not agree more.

"In that case, if we're handing out opportunities to people who haven't gotten them, then I think June should do it." Caspian threw me a sickening smile.

Even the thought made my stomach roil with nausea. "No," I said stonily, tossing him another glare full of hatred.

"Don't have the stomach to kill anyone?" The mockery was strong in his tone.

"Lay off," Ben said, an undercurrent of anger in his voice that was rare for the mild-mannered boy. "And no, I'm not going to do it either," he added, after the blonde raised an eyebrow and gave him a knowing look.

"Bastion will finish her off if his trap caught her. Otherwise, I'll do it," Cato interjected. His tone left zero room for argument, but his gaze was boring into Caspian. It was almost challenging, seeing how the boy from 4 would respond.

There were a few seconds of silence. A dangerous expression briefly flittered across Caspian's face, but I could tell he was weighing his options. Mentally debating the pros and cons of putting up an argument here. He would be stupid to push this, I thought. Ben was the only one here really on his side, if it came down to a fight. And even then…as against his own interest as it was, Ben might defend me before his own partner.

Caspian clearly came to the same conclusion that I did: he was outnumbered.

He shrugged, a lopsided smile forming on his features. "If you insist."

Cato stared at him a moment longer, before turning to me. "7, let's go," he snapped.

"I'm not going out there," I responded stubbornly, staring at him. The last thing I wanted to see was the condition of that poor tribute.

"I'm not asking."

Annoyance simmered within me again. "Doesn't someone need to stay here and watch the supplies?" I asked, a frustrated tone leaking into my voice. "I'll do that."

"District 1can do that," Cato said. "And he can stay with her," he added, jerking his head in Caspian's direction.

Chiffon just shrugged, not objecting to this plan in the slightest. She clearly had no desire to see the grotesque scene that had probably unfolded outside of camp.

Or maybe it wasn't a glorious enough kill for her standards.

"And what if I decide I want to come along?" Caspian asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do you get to dictate that, too?"

I could sense Cato bristling, the tension still hovering in the air.

"I can stay here, with June," Ben cut in, before another argument could break out.

"No. She's coming." Cato apparently did not want to let me out of his sight for more than a couple of minutes, even though he wouldn't be going far.

Or…he didn't want to leave me here, in the event Caspian stayed behind, with the way I'd almost lost my temper before. I guess I couldn't blame him on that account.

"Then I'm coming too," Ben insisted.

"Whatever," Cato responded, shrugging callously, uncaring. "We're wasting time."

"Why are you acting like I don't get a choice in the matter?" I asked him, my nerves completely rubbed raw.

"Because you don't."

I glared at him, anger making my jaw clench. "What, are you going to knock me out and drag me there?"

"If I have to." Cato stared at me, expressionless. I knew he'd probably enjoy doing that.

"I don't think so," Ben cut in bravely, the anger back in his voice as he stared at Cato.

Really, I should be thankful for him standing up for me. I knew he was strong, and capable. And clearly, he realized Cato was being difficult.

But, as Cato slowly turned to him, and the hulking boy's stance shifted to become something more menacing, I abruptly felt my nervousness growing. Cato already hated Ben, I knew that. Ben wasn't high on his list of threats, but he obviously disapproved of our unwillingness to kill each other. Right now, Cato wasn't trying to harm my district partner. But at some point, that would change.

And I didn't want to speed that process along. I didn't want to throw Ben in harm's way for selfish reasons, just because I didn't want to see what was out there. Ben already had enough on his plate. Both he and I could not afford an outright eruption of hostilities between him and Cato (and Caspian, for that matter). Not while the penalizing rule was still in effect.

So, before Cato could act on whatever dark storm of emotions was beginning to gather on his face, I quickly stood up. "Fine. I'm coming." My tone was resentful, but at least it would prevent any more arguments.

Ben threw me a questioning look, but I kept my eyes resolutely fixed on Cato. His eyes narrowed as he studied me briefly, but without another word, he turned and exited the Cornucopia, Bastion following him. Caspian tossed me a mocking smile. "Well, I can't let you two have all the fun, now, can I?" He said airily, before following the boys from 2.

I could still feel Ben's gaze on me, but I ignored it for now. The situation was delicate, and we couldn't afford to break up the alliance just yet, not when we cared about keeping each other alive. Surely, he could see that?

Swallowing dryly, I tried to steel myself as Ben and I set off after them. Who knew what lie ahead?

…

The tribute had, in fact, been caught in one of Bastion's net traps, suspended in the air.

My eyes only fell on her for half a second before I took in more than I would ever want to see—the small body pretty much beyond recognition, covered head to toe with the effect of the burning rain. There were so many holes in the Arena clothing that I could just barely tell from the mangled remains of fabric that she was from District 8.

I turned away, nausea threatening to overwhelm me, putting a hand to my mouth so I didn't throw up then and there. That would not look good for the cameras. The body belonged to Autumn's partner, I realized. The young girl that always got sick. And now, here I was, not even able to stomach the sight of her. My insides twisted and it took considerable effort to force back the bile threatening to rise.

I remained turned in the opposite direction, Ben standing next to me, staring steadfastly away from the grisly scene. Autumn's death was worse from an emotional standpoint, because I knew her, but the image of this tribute—still alive given the absence of the cannon, despite how horrific she looked—was far, far more grotesque.

I heard Bastion cut her down from the net, her small body crumpling to the ground with a thud. She didn't even make any noises of pain; probably unconscious. Close to death. Death would be a mercy at this point, I realized.

And Bastion, to my great and incredible relief, didn't drag it out. There would be no glory in that, I supposed. And what would he gain from torturing her?

I heard the sound of a knife being drawn, a rustling noise, then a small gurgle from the girl shortly afterward. He must have slit her throat, not that I was turning to watch. There were a few choking sounds, as even in a state of unconsciousness the girl's body still fought to stay alive, but it was only seconds before the cannon sounded. My stomach roiled, and I grit my teeth again, forcing back the urge to vomit.

I closed my eyes, feeling as if my heart was being grasped in a vice. You didn't even know her, I thought. But despite that, I felt my vitriol for the Capitol increase, hatred course through my veins. The poor girl's family would have had to watch that. They would have been forced to see their little girl suspended in the air, helpless against her fate, as the rain relentlessly struck at her. They had no choice but to observe the entire, excruciating affair, to watch as her skin was coated and covered in burns and she screamed in agony until she collapsed into unconsciousness.

Caspian made some snickering remark as they searched the girl's belongings, but I ignored it, and seemingly the others did, too. All I could think about, right now, was that the girl had never stood a chance. Her partner had already died. And even if the girl from 8 didn't die to the rain, she would have been killed by the Careers when she ran towards the Cornucopia. At least that death would have been less drawn out, though.

"Let's go before the hovercraft gets here," Cato said stonily, once they had searched her supplies. Not even sounding remotely affected. Of course he wasn't. Any humanity he may have been born with had been squashed out a long time ago.

Nobody argued with him, not even Caspian this time. We set off, a stiff silence hanging over the group. The silence was broken, however, once we exited the tree line and began to cross the short distance from the edge of the forest to the Cornucopia.

"7," Cato said, and I glanced at him automatically, despite the fact that I wanted to just ignore him. "Hold on." His eyes flicked over to the others, who had paused and were staring at us questioningly. "Go on, we'll catch up."

Bastion merely shrugged and nodded, while Caspian smirked and gave me a knowing wink that set my teeth on edge.

Ben's brows furrowed, and he looked about ready to protest, but I knew that was pointless and would only cause additional tension. It wasn't like Cato was about to kill me right here, anyway.

"I'll be right there," I said, hoping to reassure him, but my voice came out with an edge to it.

Ben's eyes shifted between Cato and me for a long moment, before he came to the conclusion that Cato wasn't about to murder me. Not yet, anyway. If he wanted to do that, he would have already. Still looking displeased, Ben tentatively nodded and turned to follow Bastion and Caspian back to the Cornucopia. I was sure he'd be keeping an eye on us to make sure I was safe. That was just Ben's nature, I was learning.

Once they were out of earshot, the boy from 2 turned to me. I wanted to sigh with exasperation when I saw his expression.

"What am I in trouble for now?" I asked, the sarcasm automatically springing to my lips. I could not fathom what he would be annoyed at, besides my reluctance to go see the mutilated body of the girl from 8.

"Don't play dumb," Cato retorted.

"I seriously don't know what-" I began, but he cut me off.

"You need to get your shit together."

"Excuse me?" I asked, eyebrows raising, annoyance sparking with it.

Cato took a step closer. "You're terrified every time you hear a cannon. You didn't watch the death recap when the girl from your district was on it. You couldn't even stand to look at that body, let alone kill someone. And yet, you were about to attack 4 just because of some stupid comment he made?"

"Death isn't exactly something I want to be comfortable with," I bit back, ignoring the part about Caspian.

"Well, you'd better get used to it," he snapped in response. The double meaning was not lost on me.

"What, like you? Just because I haven't been desensitized to killing-"

Cato shook his head, looking disgusted, cutting me off again. "This is the fucking Hunger Games. Wake up."

I felt my anger surge again, and I glared, holding eye contact with him. "Wake up? Did you conveniently forget that it was my instinct earlier today that got us out of the storm in time?" The sheer hypocrisy of his behavior astounded me.

Cato's eyes flashed angrily, and he clenched his jaw, taking another step closer. "You're soft. And that softness might still get both of us killed."

I stared at him in disbelief. "So, you're focusing on a complete hypothetical, while ignoring the shit I've gotten right?"

The boy's eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak, but it was my turn to cut him off.

"Oh wait, I know why," I bit out, my free hand balling into a fist. "You can't stand the thought that a 'weak little tribute' from District 7 helped you out, maybe even saved your life. Your ego can't take it, so you're redirecting all of your anger onto me."

Once again, I felt like I had struck at something deep within Cato, hit the nail on the head, just as I had the night of the gala. His face had morphed into the furious, rigid mask that I'd seen that night.

Only this time it was different. This time, we were in the Hunger Games.

His hand shifted instinctively to his sword at his belt, and I heard the rasp of metal as he began to pull it out, before pausing with it half-drawn. A dark series of emotions flickered on his face. He was struggling with the urge to finish drawing the weapon, to strike me with it.

I couldn't help it; despite knowing the rule was in place, I took a step back instinctively. I felt fear wash over me in a tidal wave, my left hand tightening on my axe. I was sure Cato could read the terror in my expression as my eyes shifted to his hand on his sword, then back up to his livid features. Was he going to lunge forward and kill me, right here and right now, rule-be-damned? Had my fat mouth just cost me my life?

I took another step back, but Cato remained unmoving, glare boring into me, sword hilt tightly gripped in his right hand. My fear was telling me to turn, to run, but at the same time I didn't want to turn my back to him. Didn't want to feel the agonizing pain rip through my body if he lunged forward and stabbed me through the back. Was I faster than him? After running from the storm earlier, I wasn't even sure.

My eyes were now glued to his face, to his icy gaze, which was still burning into me. A muscle flexed in Cato's jaw; the déjà vu was rushing through me. The entire situation was a reminder of our confrontation at the gala. I was sure he was remembering that, too.

Only this time I had an axe in my hand, not a wine glass.

I swallowed, hard, my spine still gripped in an icy chill. I was ready for Cato to leap forward, ready to throw my axe or run for my life if I needed to. I knew that he wanted nothing more than to kill me right now.

His hand flexed on the hilt of his sword, but Cato didn't move to lunge at me. He was immobile, carved out of stone. Making no move to strike. His expression had shifted into something slightly more unreadable. My heart was hammering against my ribcage; the air between us could be cut with a knife. He remained rigid and motionless for a few more taut seconds, before I saw the derision—his favorite fallback—appear on his face again.

He relaxed his grip on the hilt of his sword, just slightly, but the symbolism was clear. He wasn't going to kill me, despite his desire to. Yet.

I felt the relief coursing through my veins, overwhelming me; I locked my knees to keep them from sagging with the emotions that were flooding inside of me right now. I loosened my grip on the axe to mirror him.

Cato scoffed, eyes flicking down to the axe and back to me. A few more heartbeats passed with us staring wordlessly at each other. His face was twisted in condescension. "So much bravado," he said finally, his voice quiet and cold. "Until you're facing someone who can kill you. Then it's all gone."

Instead of feeling anger at his taunting words, I just felt…hollow. And tired. As if a lot of energy had been sucked out of me, as soon as I realized he wasn't going to attack. I felt my brow furrow, as I stared up at him, towering and imposing. It took me a second to find words, but when I did, my tone was no longer hostile, or even irritated.

"I know you're fully capable of killing me. Of course I'm scared," I said quietly.

Something almost like confusion crossed Cato's features; maybe he hadn't expected me to admit that out loud. I turned slightly, eyeing the woods where we'd emerged after finding the District 8 girl's body.

I took advantage of the brief silence to continue, "Why wouldn't I be afraid of a person who can see something that horrible and not feel anything?"

I hadn't really intended it to, but a flicker of emotion—something almost like sadness—had leaked into my voice as I stared deep into the forest, a flash of the grisly scene appearing in my mind's eye. The memory of her screams echoed in my ears, piling on with the other horrid ones I'd accumulated in this place. My heart felt heavy.

I could feel Cato's stare on me, intense and uncompromising. A few seconds trickled by, the tension still present, a stony silence between us. He wasn't saying anything, but I was expecting an angry retort; hell, the words had really just come out without me thinking too much about them. Had I set him off again?

But when he spoke again, his voice was entirely toneless. Flat. As if he were entirely bored of the conversation.

"Emotions like that only make you weak. But you'll never understand that, will you?" he finally said, voice low. Though it was phrased as a question, Cato didn't sound interested in hearing an answer. When I turned back to look at him, there was no hint as to what he was thinking.

Not waiting for me to respond, he turned his back to me and strode back towards the Cornucopia, without another word or a backward glance.

But, even as Cato departed, my sadness lingered.

…

We didn't bother discussing leaving the Cornucopia overnight, or hunting. As evening wore on and darkness fell, the occasional thunder persisted. We could only hope for clearer skies tomorrow.

Some strange, twisted sense of defensiveness forced me to watch the recap as stoically as possible. Perhaps Cato's words earlier—about how 'soft' I was and the various reasons why he thought that—had an impact on me after all. I tried my best to keep a neutral expression as we all lurked around the mouth of the Cornucopia (naturally, the Gamemakers made sure it wasn't raining during their precious little broadcast) to see the faces projected in the sky.

Two today: the girl from 8, obviously, and then the older man from 12. So, he was the cannon earlier this afternoon, then.

That meant twenty-one dead. Only three more until the first Arena would be over. Obviously, I knew that making it to subsequent Arenas was necessary, but I still felt dread uncurling at the prospect. Because I could only imagine what horrors the Gamemakers would concoct.

But every death was one step closer to seeing Rowan and my father, my cousins, and everyone else back home again. I had to keep it together. For them. Maybe there was a grain of truth in what Cato had said.

I hated myself for even thinking that.

Cato and Bastion took first watch, sticking close to the Cornucopia, while the rest of us got to sleep for a few hours. Ben and I had already been (rudely) informed that we'd be up to keep watch next. I supposed I was lucky that this was the first time I was being forced to do it.

The others fell asleep quickly.

I, unfortunately, did not.

I tossed and turned in my sleeping bag for at least an hour, then another, all of the events of today plaguing every corner of my mind.

After well over two hours, I finally fell into a light doze—it was a miracle I could do that at all, with Caspian's snoring across the Cornucopia (I had dragged my sleeping bag as far away from him as possible).

But, almost as soon as I'd managed to doze off, something jolted me awake.

Cato's and Bastion's voices, low enough that they hadn't woken the others, but still just loud enough for me to hear if I strained my ears. I was closest to them of anyone in the Cornucopia. I peeked between my lashes to see that they'd spread out a tarp on the sand. Bastion was lounging on it, idly twirling a knife in his hand. Cato was leaning against the mouth of the Cornucopia a few feet away from his fellow District 2 tribute.

I shouldn't eavesdrop…but not like I had a choice. Where else would I go? And clearly, Bastion didn't care about the possibility of any of us hearing. The Careers had always been bold and arrogant with their conversations. You had to be, in here, with cameras watching. Nothing you said was really private, unless you whispered it and blocked the cameras' vision of your lips.

I squeezed my eyes shut and subtly positioned myself to where it would appear that I was fast asleep if they looked backwards. The conversation was innocuous enough, I realized. Bastion was saying something about a sparring match they'd had as children in District 2, then talking about some girl back home he was apparently interested in.

I didn't like hearing about it; it made me uneasy. I didn't want to think about their lives back home, or who they had waiting on them. It humanized them too much for my liking. I supposed, if I were honest to myself, it was easier to think of them as the cold-blooded killers they were now, and not whoever they'd been before all of their training.

I was beginning to doze off again, their conversation about weapons becoming too mundane for my interest, when the topic of me came up.

"…really because of 7," Bastion was saying.

That jolted me into awareness again, but I kept my eyes shut and stilled my body, turning my head slightly so my hair would hopefully obscure my face fully.

"It's pretty funny to watch," Bastion added.

"I'm sure it is," Cato said sarcastically, mild irritation in his voice that the other boy disregarded entirely.

"I have to say…in all these years, I've never seen someone that tiny and non-threatening get under your skin so easily. It's almost impressive."

"I'm glad you think so," my partner said coolly, the edge still in his voice. I knew nobody else would really get away with comments like that towards Cato, except for Bastion.

"I don't get it. She doesn't seem that bad to me. Is it just because she's from 7? Or was it the wine incident?" the dark-haired boy sounded genuinely curious, instead of mocking.

So he did know about Cato's predisposition to hate people from my district.

"It doesn't matter." There was significantly more irritation in Cato's voice now, and I knew it would probably be smarter for Bastion to drop the topic.

"Mhmm. Fine," was Bastion's amiable response. "Just surprised you get so worked up over the things she says."

"She's fucking annoying," Cato retorted. "And stubborn."

Hypocrite.

"Well, it could always be worse," Bastion said thoughtfully.

"Highly doubt it," Cato bit back.

As if Caspian wouldn't be worse as a partner than me, in terms of the annoyance factor.

Bastion made a noncommittal sound. It didn't seem like he was going to push his luck, then, despite the jokes he enjoyed making at Cato's expenses. Silence stretched between the two for several long seconds, and I thought the conversation was over, before he added—in an unnecessarily sly tone— "Well, at least she's kinda cute."

"Fuck off," Cato snapped, definitely angry now. I was sure any compliment towards me would piss him off, with how much he hated me, but Bastion's implication was probably especially insulting.

Bastion snickered, the trademark response for him, before saying something about going to 'take a leak.' Probably wanted to avoid Cato punching him in the face after that comment. I was sure if anyone besides the dark-haired boy from 2 had made it, they'd be at risk of having their neck snapped in Cato's hands.

Honestly, though, the small, petty part of me had to force back a smirk at Cato's obvious annoyance, still maintaining my façade of slumber. Even when I was 'sleeping,' I was somehow getting to him. The rest (the logical part) of me knew that didn't bode well for my future in the Arena, but it was hard not to at least find the tiniest bit of amusement in Bastion's jibes, especially with all of the cruel things Cato had said to me.

I carried a tiny sense of victory with me until I finally fell into a restless slumber.

…

Ben and I had an uneventful shift of keeping watch. Occasionally, there would be the faintest rumble of thunder in the distance, but the Gamemakers didn't see fit to dump any of the deadly rain on our heads, fortunately. And no tributes approached us, or started screaming in the woods, thankfully. I didn't think I could stomach anything else today. I'd almost thrown up in front of all of Panem earlier, after seeing what happened to the girl from 8.

By the time the sky was gradually beginning to lighten, with the first hints of dawn approaching, it actually looked like the clouds were clearing out. Like the Gamemakers finally had their fill of the rainstorms. It was time for us to move on, to go hunt down more tributes.

The others began to rise once the first rays of the sun appeared above the horizon, even before Ben and I had to rouse them. The temperature was already creeping up. Gone was the grey and overcast sky; now there was only blue, broken up by sporadic, fluffy clouds.

It would be miserably hot again today. We could all tell.

Knowing that—and knowing we had used some of our limited water yesterday—we left Bastion and Chiffon behind to return to camp for the remainder of the supplies. We were completing the plan from yesterday, of the boy from 2 rigging additional traps (especially now that we knew they worked), while the rest of us headed back to rejoin Lambent and Azure.

They'd been fortunate, here by the dried-up pond. I felt a flare of resentment knowing that. The horrid rain had only fallen here one single time. Azure had the good sense to encourage her partner to take shelter, and the tents had evidently been made of a material (or been treated) to protect from the chemicals contained in the rain. Save for two tiny burns on Lambent, they were entirely unscathed.

So, the storms were isolated to certain sections of the Arena at a time, then. The rain fell in small patches, like I expected. Something so dangerous and disabling had to be applied carefully. The Gamemakers had to maintain the illusion that we still had most of the control over our own destinies. Even though they could change that with a click of a button.

It really did feel like the storm had been tailored to us. Challenging the tributes who had monopolized the supplies.

I grabbed my original backpack (which I carried in my free hand), and various items were shoved into my new, larger backpack by the Careers. We set off as soon as the remaining supplies were packed up or carried. It was hard to fathom how many supplies we truly had, when so many tributes went without.

The heat was climbing as we made our way back to the Cornucopia. It felt especially miserable today, when yesterday had been cool in comparison.

Once we arrived, we spent another hour going through the rest of the supplies. We again had to pick out what was indispensable, sorting it among all of us accordingly. I insisted on keeping all of my original supplies and transferred them to my new pack, but naturally, Cato made sure to add to it, so that it was nearly full to the brim of everything else I could reasonably carry. All of us had full packs.

But even with that, we left quite a bit behind. We couldn't overburden ourselves. Especially in this heat.

The Careers hadn't wanted to travel during the day. It was far too hot. But we couldn't linger at the Cornucopia in this heat, either (all of us were absolutely coated in sweat just being in here an hour), and we'd now used a day's supply of water. We had to be careful, and we'd probably have to start rationing tomorrow. We really couldn't waste time after spending all of yesterday trapped under the overcast skies.

My partner was in an especially foul mood today—day 7 in this hellhole, I realized—and I was sure it was a culmination of the events from yesterday, with Bastion's teasing to top it all off. I decided I was going to ignore him, for now. We would hopefully not have to coexist for more than a few more days.

After that…well, he'd be trying to kill me, right? I should probably start best planning ways to avoid him.

…

After a few hours heading south—sticking within the forest for protection from the direct sun, but still close enough to see the rolling dunes through breaks in the trees to our left—my body was drenched in sweat. It was a familiar issue from my first couple of days in here.

We had stopped for a couple of short breaks, all of us growing more and more cranky and slick with exertion. Losing that much water through sweat was not ideal. Our quest for water had been uneventful so far; the river we'd found previously during the hunt was now as dry as bone. I'd kept my eyes peeled for any of the strange water-bearing plants, but didn't see any. I had my own container of water, but it was already over half empty, so I tried to drink it sparingly. We had sorted out the water as best we could, but I only had one more filled container after this one. With how much I was perspiring…

But no, I couldn't think about it. The Gamemakers wouldn't let all of us die from dehydration, anyway. There had to be a water source somewhere. Even though we'd been traveling most the day, and seen no signs of any.

And what was worse, it felt like the ground was gradually changing elevation, where we were walking slightly uphill. I supposed it made sense, if the very center of the Arena was the lowest elevation point. But it only made things harder.

We set off again, even Caspian quieter than usual, the only discussion tending to be irritated remarks or observations about how little success we were having.

On our third stop, however, something changed. It was Ben that noticed it. He had wandered a short distance away towards the tree line, but his voice carried back to us just a moment later.

"Hey, come take a look at this!"

The rest of us—irritated, impatient, and covered in perspiration—groaned, but meandered our way towards him. Ben had approached the edge of the trees, and was staring out across the sand. I quickly followed his gaze and saw it.

Not a tribute.

Not a river. Or a pond. Or any other water source.

But patches of green, stubby grass, just poking above the sand.

The shrubby patches of grass started just outside the tree line and then stretched out, directly towards the east, plunging across the desert. The small clusters of grass were visible until the dunes got steeper towards the middle of the desert and connected with the horizon, presumably continuing even on past that point.

Grass itself wasn't remarkable. There was plenty of green in this Arena. Too much, some might argue.

But this was was the only green that I could see in the expanse of desolate sand.

And, even more notable-the sporadic patches of vegetation formed a strip that was maybe slightly wider than five feet, and even as far as I could see into the distance, the width was uniform. Consistent.

Unnatural.

The grass formed a deliberate path.

A path leading directly into the heart of the desert itself.

…

A/N: Sorry about the delay. I finished this a few days ago but was delayed in editing it. Work was terrible this week! I hope to have the next chapter up within a week, as usual, so let's hope work isn't as awful next week.

I'm pretty happy with how this chapter turned out, though. Hopefully you guys enjoyed!

We're getting closer and closer to the end of the first Arena…and I can guarantee, you all won't expect some of the things I have cooked up :-)