When I wake the next morning, it's to the glorious sound of near silence. One or two birds chirping, but no insects grating, no frogs croaking or bellowing, and definitely no swamp monsters trying to eat us alive. I eat the last of my dried fruit for breakfast, and am still hungry when it's gone. The last four crackers look so tempting, but they might be dinner unless a generous sponsor steps in.

Anita looks pale as she eats with her left hand and winces occasionally when her other arm moves, though the cream we had should have healed the worst of the cut over. Then again, Citrine's hands are still a bit scratched and tender from her fall in the river a few days back. Neither of them are unable to walk though, so we head out at a gentler pace, following the edge of the trees but walking in the open grasslands where the footing is easier.

Since we'd be seen from a mile away, no-one worries about making noise and there's occasional chatter as we discuss who is left and where they might be hiding. Yesterday afternoon there was another cannon, and the evening anthem showed the boy from Three. The cannon sound and hovercraft looked to be back over by the cornucopia, roughly parallel to our position though a good five miles west and I'd guess he was the rustling I heard in the trees while on guard duty that night. Either that or someone who killed him was.

No matter what, there's still most of the stronger tributes still around. The pair from Ten, Ida and Tarris, and Markus from Eight. The girls are pretty sure that the girl from Eight is still alive too, and was the tribute we couldn't remember earlier. I can't really remember much about her at all, so they might be right. Otherwise it's just big, shy Rosie from Eleven, who is probably surviving fine off the land. Given her size and strength, I'd probably back her against that swamp gator mutt too. Even so, we all agree she's not the biggest threat.

There's a few pointed comments thrown in the direction of the pair from One as well, regarding the fight with the swamp gator. Fair enough Citrine was still injured and chose to hang back from the fight, but Angelus had no excuse and was actually closer than Marcellus was when the creature attacked. He claims that he has no interest in allies that can't look after themselves, and I agreed with Carla when she told him that if any sort of mutt comes after him we'd make sure to stand back and let him take care of it himself.

By late morning the trees peel away and we decide to pick up the pace towards the river we can see across a few miles of open grassland to the south. There are a few gentle hills as we run and from one of the heights I spot what looks like a second, smaller lake that the river flows into. A good spot for tributes to camp. Without speaking the whole group picks up to a faster run, though Anita looks gray in the face from pain.

About a hundred yards away from the water, as we pass a small copse of bushes I hear a dull thud and turn back to see Citrine flat on the ground. Thinking she must have tripped, Anita and I drop back to help her up when the bushes erupt and a large rock bounces off my spear hand. A third projectile smacks into Marcellus' jaw as he turns to see what is happening, and he drops as well. I duck as another comes flinging towards me, quickly ditching my pack, and when I look up I have to dive away from a vicious knife stab.

The girl from Ten, Ida follows my dive and leaps onto me, stabbing down, but she gets hit in turn by Anita, who tackles in from the side. The two girls go rolling away, clawing at one another's' faces as I pick myself up, wincing as I lean against my right hand. Already my fingers are beginning to swell and sharp pains lance up my arm as I wiggle them. Probably broken. Not good.

I hear Anita cry out as Ida jams her fingers into the barely closed wound on my ally's arm and I quickly re-engage, grabbing the girl from Ten by the hair and hauling her backwards, throwing her to the ground. She scrambles to her feet too quickly for me to fetch my spear so I pull the knife I had shoved in my belt and catch her slash on my blade. I'm nearly a head taller and trained, but fighting with my left hand isn't something I've practiced much.

I decide to go for brute force and ignore the sharp pain along my shoulder blade as I shove forwards, trying to get my knife into her side. It hits the bone of her ribcage and skitters off, but she does fall back a few steps.

"LOOK OUT FINN!"

I turn in time to dodge Tarris's stab towards my back. He stumbles and I see Anita clinging tightly to his leg from her prone position, probably the only reason I'm not already dead. I swing my knife at his throat but he rolls away, kicking hard at my ally's hands and face with his free foot and charges into me from a crouch, crashing heavily into my stomach. Like Ida did to me moments ago, I try to stab down into his back, but only score a shallow slice. There's a sudden pain around my throat and I try to pull away, but he follows the movement, driving hard into me with his shoulder.

Unarmed combat was never one of my great strengths, but all the years of wrestling with Oris causes me to instinctively roll and push as my back hits the ground, sending Tarris tumbling over and off me. As we both pick ourselves up I risk a glance over my shoulder, where Anita is sitting on the ground trying to stop the blood pouring out of her nose and Marcellus is on all fours, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw. Carla has a nasty cut across the top of her face that she is trying to stem, which is probably hindering her vision, and a second knife hilt protrudes from her thigh.

I turn back to my immediate foe, who winces as he rolls his shoulders but drops back into a fighting crouch, ready for another round. He swings at me as I swing at him, and we catch each other by the opposite wrist, wrestling for control. We're about the same height and build, and since my allies outnumber him I just have to hold the stalemate until one of them jumps in.

Over his shoulder I see Ida sparring with Angelus. The girl from Ten gets knocked to the ground but scoops a handful of dirt into my ally's face and follows it up with a sharp kick somewhere no boy ever wants to get kicked. Angelus buckles at the knees, though keeps his sword swinging wildly as he scrapes at his eyes with his other hand, preventing her from getting any closer while he is still blinded.

She doesn't try for him though. Poor Citrine who is also groggily trying to stand is a much easier target and a single knife slash opens her throat in a spray of blood.

"One down!" Ida yells, and Tarris grins as he suddenly twists, disengaging our holds. I swing my knife up to block his blade again but he hops back and kicks me hard in the chest. My cut shoulder hits the ground first this time and a wave of pain causes my vision to go gray. When it clears I see Anita and Carla have jumped back in and as I watch, the girl from Two takes a wobbling step forwards and jerks Ida's arm in a strong grip. There's a loud CRACK as the girl from Ten's arm breaks, and Carla catches the dropped knife and jams it between Ida's ribs, straight to the heart with a finishing twist.

Tarris seems to have the advantage over Anita though and as I reach out my hand to brace myself to stand up I find the long, smooth haft of my dropped spear. When the boy from Ten next drives Anita back a few steps I take her place and ignore the grating pain in my swollen fingers for the few moments it takes me to drive the spear-point home.

Just like big Solphis Gunner at the bloodbath fight, the sharp point enters Tarris' throat, cutting cleanly through skin and muscle until it snags on his spine. I jerk the spear sharply to the side, opening the cut wide and am sprayed by the warm, sticky blood as he tumbles forward, his chin clunking into my knee as he lands on my feet. I try to step backwards but all the mad strength from the fight up and leaves, and my legs tremble and give, and I end up sitting down hard, my feet still wedged under the body of a dying boy.

We wait in silence until the three cannons fire. One for my ally, who never had much luck right from the start, one for the vicious, angry girl who nearly beat me in a knife fight and one for the boy, the nephew of a previous victor, I remember suddenly, whose blood has soaked into my sandals and whose fine brown hair is still brushing my shin.

A slight breeze sends a shiver down my spine and all the pain that was held off by adrenaline comes rushing back in, especially in my fighting hand. Carla hobbles over to help me push free of the body and drags me upright. I notice the knife still stuck in her leg and reach out to pull it free but she pushes my hand away.

"Not until I've got something to stop it," she says dully.

"Stream," Marcellus says, coming over and wincing as he speaks. There's already a large swelling on the side of his jaw and his eyes are slightly out of focus. "We'll clean up there."

He marches over towards Angelus, who is still trying to scrub dirt out of his eyes next to the body of our ally and wrestles the pack free off the dead girl's back. He slams it into Angelus' midriff and snarls "You carry this too. Do something useful," before turning and leading our slow, sorry trudge towards the water.

~xXx~

The parachute lands on me as soon as we reach the stream edge, bearing a small tube of pungent cream and a tiny syringe as well as some more clean bandages and three fibreglass rods about as long as my fingers. Splints, I realize after staring at them for a minute.

Carla hobbles over and says, "I'll fix up your fingers for some of the cream." I readily agree.

She seems to know what she's doing, and slathers my hand with cream before binding the fingers straight to each of the sticks. I bite down on my lip so hard that it bleeds when she straightens them and I end up sticking a small dollop of cream on that as well. She looks at the syringe curiously and her eyebrows shoot up when she reads the name.

"It's a bone regrowth enhancer. I've seen one used before, it fixed a broken leg in about three days. You have some seriously good sponsors."

Without asking she draws the cap and jabs it into the back of my hand, pushing down the plunger. A wave of ice follows it, a pleasant numbing coolness that replaces the dull thudding ache. She finishes by binding all three of the fingers together with a loose tie that will make me even less likely to try and bend them.

"Give it a day or so and you should be right to use them again," she says confidently.

"Thanks Doctor Carla," I reply with a grin, then remember to add, "and thanks sponsors too. I feel heaps better already." I throw another grin and wave to the sky.

She rolls her eyes and says, "I'll take my payment now."

I help brace her leg as she draws out the knife and washes the wound clean. A quick slather of the cream already slows the bleeding to nearly nothing, and I reach up and swipe the cut across her forehead as well, marvelling as it appears to seal while I'm watching.

Remembering my other wounds I pull my vest free, wincing as it sticks slightly to my bloody shoulder and go soak it in the stream, using it to scrub my shoulder clean before piling on more of that amazing healing goo. Anita comes over as I finish wringing out the vest again and fingers the long cut in the back as I shake it out. She's cleaned off her face but I notice two of her fingers curled at a painful angle. The hand Tarris kicked when she caught his ankle and stopped him knifing me in the back.

I don't have any fancy Capitol splints, but I try to repeat Carla's method with some sturdy reeds, and use the last of my cream to properly fix the jagged gator wound along Anita's arm. It's only fair, I feel, since she did save me.

I notice as we re-join the others that I'm the only one who got some sponsor treatment. Probably why Carla came straight to me to try and get some of mine. Not that I mind.

"We'll camp here tonight," Marcellus slurs through his swollen jaw as he fishes around for some food in his pack and winces when all he finds is chewy beef jerky.

"Do you want me to fish for you? Something soft and squishy and easy to chew?" I ask with a small grin, unable to resist.

He glowers at me for a second, then laughs. "I'm not quite that hungry yet."

Eventually I convince him to swap me the jerky for my remaining crackers. Meat for me, at least something in his stomach for him. Neither of us thinks of checking to see what Citrine had left until after we've set up the tents, and we find no food left in her bag. We're both sure that Angelus must have taken it, but since he's the only one still essentially uninjured right now, I don't think any of us want another fight.

Not until the next morning, when I have my last bit of jerky for breakfast, marvelling at how the cuts have all but disappeared and at the minimal pain in my fingers thanks to the Capitol medicines. Carla finishes her last cracker while Marcellus and Anita go hungry. Angelus finishes his own crackers, then pulls out a half-full packet of dried apricots, carefully folded and tied shut with a bit of reed-grass. I saw Citrine tie it the other morning, so there's no doubt where it came from.

Marcellus doesn't miss it either; his eyes are back in focus today and the swelling on his jaw has gone way down, leaving a large blue-black bruise.

"You going to share those?" He asks pointedly.

Angelus sneers back, "I didn't see you sharing any of yours."

"That's not yours," Marcellus replies. "It was hers, now it's all of ours."

Angelus shrugs and grabs another few pieces from the bag, chewing and swallowing slowly and deliberately. "You gave it to me yesterday. That makes it mine."

Marcellus snarls and lunges forward, grabbing the smaller boy's wrist hard enough to send the whole bag tumbling, fruit pieces scattering through the grass.

"I told you to carry it not take it, since you decided not to bother helping with the rest of the fight. What happened, did you get scared? Wet your pants? I thought Finnick was supposed to be the baby here, but he did his bit, got his kill. Where were you?"

Angelus squirms in pain and snaps back, "I went around the back of the bushes to make sure there weren't any more hiding in there. Then I tried to protect my district partner."

"What a great job you did at that," Carla says snidely. Angelus pulls his arm free and turns on her, getting right up in her face. "Yeah, well you didn't do much better did you? Got your knife stolen and stuck in your leg, and you," he turns back to Marcellus, "You were lying on the ground moaning because you got smacked in the face with a rock. I didn't see you doing much either."

Marcellus glares at him for a few seconds, then leans back and punches him squarely in the face. Angelus falls to the side and sits back up slowly, wiping away his mouth, though I don't see any blood. He picks up his sword and points it at Marcellus, waving it slightly, probably to make the point of whatever he says next. Marcellus doesn't flinch, staring down the sword point just six inches from his face with a mockingly raised eyebrow.

The image is so comical I almost laugh. Then Angelus lunges forwards, driving the point of his blade into Marcellus' face. I think he was aiming for the eye but the boy from Two jerks back slightly and it opens a long red line from his cheek to the swollen bruise on his jaw.

"HEY!" Screams Carla, who dives in and grabs at Angelus' sword arm, taking an elbow to her face for her trouble. Angelus turns back to Marcellus and tries again to end him, but Marcellus throws an arm up to take the second slash, roaring as his bare arm is cut from wrist to elbow.

I feel a tug on my shoulders and turn to see Anita already standing, her pack slung over one shoulder.

"Quick, let's go," she hisses, trying to pull me to my feet. I respond slowly, my head swirling, watching as people I considered allies continue to fight. This isn't how it was supposed to happen.

"Hey, where are you going?" Carla yells suddenly, shoving Anita away from me. Behind her Marcellus has got Angelus in a headlock despite the blood pouring from his face and arm.

Anita shoves back. "We're going," she says firmly, and tries to step away, but Carla reaches forward and grabs her by the hair, dragging her back in.

"You don't go unless I say you go," my supposed ally snarls, backhanding Anita across the face.

I've come to like and respect Carla over the last seven days, but Anita was my friend first, someone I'd occasionally chat to at training over the nearly five years we had both been going. Someone who had my back all through the lead-up and early Games until I made my own name. I can't let Carla push around my friend.

I jump up and grab Carla from behind, throwing her with a hip twist back towards the other boys. "Leave her alone," I say, and turn to help Anita steady.

She takes my hand with a grateful smile, then her eyes widen and she tugs me sharply forwards. I crash into her, knocking her down and feel a thin line of pain across my lower back. As I roll to my feet, I manage to keep a hold of my spear, which proves the difference.

I had thought it before the Games, that if I had to face Angelus in a fight, as long as I had my spear against his sword I would be fine. I can't see what he's done to Marcellus or Carla, but the golden-haired boy from One smirks as he lunges at me again, thinking I'm an easy catch.

I step to the left, making sure to draw him away from Anita, who is still on the ground, then drop back into the routines I've spent years practicing. Even with my splinted fingers, my body responds to the drills: turn the point with the outside of the shaft, then swing back in with the cutting head. Take the shoulder first, then the leg. Once their mobility is gone, go for the finishing strike.

My grip isn't as steady as it should be though, and Angelus is angry. He seemed to hate me from the start, maybe because I'm better looking and took what he thought were his sponsors. Maybe because I'm so young and the others seemed to like me better. Maybe because I would always try and bait him with petty little annoyances the same as he did to me.

Twice he manages to cut me, but eventually I get the shoulder and he's forced to swap hands. A quick low cut forces him to step back but I catch the edge of his knee. I kick the wound as he staggers then, as he makes a desperate lunge I sidestep and set myself, and feel the wrenching grind as my spear drives through his stomach and out through his back.

His wild, agonized sword swings nick my left arm a couple more times, but when I jerk the spear a quarter turn he stops and gives a piteous moan. I try to pull back, figuring it will be a quicker death with the wound open, but my weapon is stuck hard and eventually I let it fall from my hand, watching as my former ally falls to his hands and knees, then rolls sideways, convulsing wildly.

For a minute I think I have fixed the problem—Angelus was the one who started the fight and I ended it and now we can go back to working together—but the look Carla shoots me is frightening, and a soft splashing marks Anita's progress as she wades into the stream, away from all of us. Part way across she turns and looks at me, and back at the pair from Two and I realize that there is no going back.

They might take me in for a bit, but there's so few of us left now that if I stayed I'd almost certainly be killed whenever it is convenient for them. Anita knew this, which is why she decided to run as soon as they started fighting. She even tried to bring me along, though I'd have to go in reach of Carla and Marcellus to follow her.

She seems to realize this too, and turns away, continuing quickly through the water. I take slow step back as Carla begins walking towards me. It doesn't matter if she's offering peace or a fight now; I've finally understood what it will mean to be the victor of these Games. Either I die or they do. No more time for friends.

I turn and run, zig-zagging across the open grasslands to the east, aiming for the tree line about a mile away. When I glance back over my shoulder I see that neither of them are following. Why would they? They still have a team of sorts, probably the only alliance left standing, and they have all the supplies. My spear is still in Angelus' body. I can see it as the cannon fires and the hovercraft drifts in from above, a thin line hanging from his body as he is carried into the air. My knife is still in my belt, but I already know I'm not much good left-handed, and the pain that had dulled in my broken fingers is now sharp and persistent after the fight.

I draw the knife anyway when I reach the trees—there's still three others out there besides my former allies, and right now I wouldn't back myself against any of them. Well maybe the girl from Eight. And I might be able to convince Rosie to team up with me. I'd know she would have to die in the end, but she might not realize that about me. Yet.

No food, no water, though I'm sure I have plenty of sponsors who will provide, especially since I personally took out my two strongest rivals in the good looks race. Right now the main thing I need is a safe place to recover, both physically and mentally. I try to picture what I know of the arena and decide if I keep on straight through this forest should eventually reach the shore and the salt water, the only place that would feel anything like safety for me right now.