One for Lyte, just because I had this planned before he got out. And he didn't win anyway, so he can have one.

Lyte Anderson- District Six

They said it was a feast. Why would anyone go to a feast? We already had everything we needed. The only thing that could come from a feast was crossing paths with other Tributes. Maybe that meant a glorious battle for Kisarna and Mase, but it meant nothing but death for me.

I heard it when they arrived. I was hiding in a store filled with paper cards with messages written on them, in the garbage can behind the sales counter. I would have thought it would be quick, that either Kisarna would snipe Mase from afar or he'd quickly get the upper hand in a close battle, but the sounds went on. It was mostly the sound of falling and scraping objects. Neither of the fighters made any noise to betray their condition.

When the noise stopped, I shoved the garbage bag up from where it covered me and climbed out. I crawled to the balcony to see who had won. Even if they say me, I was an entire floor above them. I'd be able to run away without trouble, and I would know who my last opponent and very likely killer would be.

They were both lying on the ground. Blood spread out from under both of them, but I hadn't heard a cannon. I lay on my stomach, peeking down at them. Neither seemed to notice me.

I should go down there, I thought. I knew it was a terrible idea, but it didn't leave my head. I'll die if I go down there, I reminded myself. They were both dying, and the only thing keeping me from victory was staying where I was. I hovered at the edge, wondering where gray turned to black. It wasn't right to leave people to die. But people are allowed to preserve their own lives. I was allowed to win.

It's not worth it. It's not worth it to live, if someone else had to die.

It wasn't worth it to me. I got up and started walking down the weird moving stairs. Life was valuable, my life included, but to me there were things worth more than life. If the only way to survive in Panem was to take someone else's life, that was too much for me. I would rather die.

Triage is one of the hardest parts of being a doctor. It means ignoring those so lightly injured they're not in danger of death, just in horrible pain. Even worse, it means leaving those so seriously injured they will die no matter what, in favor of giving a chance to someone less injured. Mase was beyond anything I could help. He was pale and unresponsive, barely even bleeding anymore from the holes left by seven throwing stars embedded all over his body.

If Kisarna was the same, there was no moral gray. There was nothing I could do, and there was no wrong in staying alive. Peace settled over me when I saw the pink still in her face and lower arms. She wasn't beyond help, and so I would help her.

It didn't take a doctor to see her biggest problem. Her breath was wet and torrid, heaving gasps that sucked in only tiny amounts of air. It was a sucking chest wound, and it was within my ability to fix. I ran into a nearby toy store, grabbing a gel sticker for a window. It certainly wasn't the ideal fix, but the important thing was sealing the hole. I ran to her side and knelt by her.

"I'm going to fix you, okay?" I asked. Kisarna's closed eyes fluttered. Her breath whistled as she tried to sit up. I gently pushed her flat and tore her shirt open, revealing the wound that went all the way down to her lung. I peeled the sticker from its backing and smoothed it over the hole.

Immediately, Kisarna's breath started to regularize. She gasped in deep breaths, her chest heaving. She had half a dozen other wounds, some still bleeding far too much. I might not be able to get her stable at all. It might all be for nothing anyway.

Kisarna's arm jerked up, flashing underneath me. I felt the stinging pain as it stuck into my chest, its thin point lodging between my ribs. I fell heavily, half in shock and half slipping on her blood. I landed heavily across her, the impact lodging the point deeper. It astonished me how quickly the energy left me. I couldn't even pick myself up. I was stuck with my head lying on her neck and my chest on her shoulders.

Kisarna's arm prodded at me, and I realized that was her last star. She didn't have the strength to move me so she could retrieve it. My whole weight was on her, and she couldn't even push me off. I kept bleeding from my chest, and she kept bleeding from all the places Mase cut her apart. I watched the blood spiraling out from us, so much of it hers and so little of it mine. I'd wanted to help her. I might have been able to, if only she'd let me.