Similar mild trigger warnings for non-graphic dubious consent as last chapter.

Thanks as always for reading and the lovely reviews


She awakens considerably more rested than she was the night before. The few times she did wake up felt better than last night too. The constant feeling of dread at the bottom of her stomach is somewhat lessened and, though Heather Chandler took the tent, she has a sleeping bag and several blankets to protect her from the cold.

The Careers have taken a break from the last two days' early rises, so she gets up herself, enjoying the peace of being almost alone, along with the security of being surrounded by people. She tends to the embers of last night's fire until there are flames again. She then goes over to the food stocks and helps herself to the eggs, bacon and sausages. She debates whether she should ask if she can use this much up, she's taken enough food to last her family a week, but with the way they were eagerly guzzling it up last night, she doubts they care much.

Anyway, with the amount they have, they'll probably have killed her before they run out.

There's no frying pan, so she takes the flattest shield she can find, props it up with rocks on all four sides and soon the smell of sizzling bacon and sausages fills the air.

"That smells amazing," says a voice behind her.

"Thanks," says Veronica, shuffling over to let Heather McNamara sit beside her. They spend some time together, using twigs and pieces of bark to flip the bacon and scramble the eggs.

As the sun breaks over the trees, Veronica notices a glint on Heather's left hand. On one of her fingers is a white gold ring, set with a teardrop shaped yellow stone, surrounded by diamonds.

Heather catches her staring, and holds out her hand to let her have a better look. It's a lot shinier than anything anyone wears in 8, but a lot less garish than some of the jewellery Pauline and her prep team wore. Generations of District 1 craftsmanship, she supposes.

"Beautiful isn't it?" she says, a surprisingly shy grin gracing her delicate features, "It's my token, my boyfriend…my fiancé, Chris, gave it to me, he told me I'd have to win and come home now, so we could get married."

It would be more romantic if Heather succeeding in this didn't mean Veronica would die. As it is, it's still quite sweet.

Veronica thinks back to Heather's interview, trying to remember if this was ever mentioned, but no, she's sure it was not. In the part of Heather's interview that wasn't about her power to crush people, they were playing her vapid sexiness up to the nines. But being sexy is pretty much a requirement for a female Career, sexy female Careers with a tragic romantic backstory are less common.

"You didn't tell Caesar? You know the Capitol, they'd have lapped it up."

Heather shakes her head, "My mentor suggested it but I didn't want to. It's not about them. It's about Chris and me."

The smile Heather gives her is the most genuine she's seen since Betty's.

xxx

By the time they've finished cooking, the rest of the Careers have gathered around them. There's not much in the way of plates, so they hold out a jumble of bread, shields and flat surfaces to eat off. It's almost nice, she thinks, sandwiching her own breakfast between two hunks of bread, hearing their appreciative moans and seeing Heather McNamara's pride in having helped cook something, it feels like I am really part of this team.

If only the team's mission wasn't child murder.

Heather Chandler announces their tasks for the day; boys are on guard duty again, girls are out hunting – and to her shock that includes her – although she does seem to be passed the heaviest backpack, so it's possibly just as a pack mule. She makes sure no one (including the cameras) sees her grimace as she puts it on.

They scramble through the piles of supplies to find the best tools to kill. Heather Chandler picks up the biggest weapon, a sword with zigzagged edges, giving it the appearance of a saw, but Heather Duke's pointed knife and Heather McNamara's giant meat cleaver look no less terrifying. Veronica keeps the knife Heather Duke gave her yesterday, anything bigger and she fears she's going to end up dropping it and chopping her foot off.

"What's this?" says Heather McNamara, holding up something pink she's found, half trampled, in the ground nearby.

"Give it here, it's mine," says Kurt quickly, but not quickly enough to stop Heather Chandler grabbing it.

Heather Chandler snorts, dangling the keychain in front of him, "Is that a pink unicorn, you have as your token Kurt?"

It seems so out of character that Veronica is sure she must be mistaken, but there it is, a rose gold unicorn decorated with fake gems.

Kurt snatches it back, "My sister Ashley gave it to me, she's seven, it's so gay." But she notices he puts it securely back in his pocket even so.

xxx

They stop off to fill up their water bottles at the lake five minutes from camp, before heading off still north but more westwards than where they were searching the day before.

It does not take long for them to find their first victim. About half an hour after they set off they spot a glint of vibrant pink between the tree branches and they turn that way immediately.

The girl, one of the stoners who'd mooched around the Training Centre looking upset, is huddled against a tree with a pink blanket wrapped around her to keep off the remains of the cold night. When the girl sees them she looks more angry than scared. She glances back, contemplating running, but instead gets out a knife and stands ready to attack. She is very unsuccessful; doing little more than giving Heather McNamara a couple of scratches before she is on the ground.

Veronica stands, watching from the sidelines as the three Careers surround the poor girl, her cannon booming after less than a minute. She wonders if she should have joined in, not that she was needed at all, nor did she have much taste for the deed, but she doesn't want people – the Careers, the Capitol, to think this. It's obvious, of course, but something like this will remind them of this fact. If she's seen just as a burden no one's going to bother letting her live for very long.

Next time, she resolves, she's going to have to prove that she's worth keeping around.

xxx

Her chances to do so throughout the day are limited though. Despite their early success, by late afternoon nothing more has happened and they're all getting crabby, her legs are aching and the sun is beating down, burning the back of their necks and forcing them to drink more water than they'd like. Heather McNamara is shuffling behind, hitting branches with her cleaver, and Heather Chandler is telling Heather Duke to shut up whenever she attempts to make conversation.

If anything, it's simply boring. And if it's boring for them, it must be boring for the Capitol too, she idly wonders if something is happening with the other tributes so they're showing them on the screen instead, but they've heard no cannons so it's probably not that dramatic.

It's odd, now she thinks about it, that they've faced no attacks from the Gamemakers since they started, what was it? Three? Four? Days ago. Not that she's complaining, but in most years they'd have experienced something by now; a fire perhaps, a muttation or an earthquake – something to shift the odds a little and make the Games more interesting.

Perhaps, with the stoner this morning, the Capitol are satisfied with their pound of flesh, just like how yesterday the Careers killed Rodney's partner and were sent no obstacles. Then again, maybe the Gamemakers had been holding back that day because they already knew the Heathers were heading into Brad and David's trap…

"Can we have a break?" Says Heather Duke, "I need some water, all this sun is giving me a headache."

"No," says Heather Chandler sharply, as expected, but then she hesitates and when she speaks again her voice is no longer angry, "No… I don't think we should…" she has a wicked glint in her eye, as she points to something in the sky, "Looks like our luck is about to change, ladies."

Veronica looks at where Heather's pointing and sees it, it's faint sure, but above the treetops is a wisp of smoke.

A campfire.

In an instant, Heather Duke stops complaining and Heather McNamara is at the front of the group alert. Like hounds on the trail of a fox, they set off immediately in the direction of their prey.

It takes a good half hour to get to the source of the flames. They were right. In a small clearing in the woods is what is unmistakably a campsite with a fire, still smouldering. Next to it, there is a small blanket and remnants of food; nutshells and a few bags of chips, nearby. The campers themselves are not there, but the footprints in the dirt and the way the branches ahead have been cleared leave little doubt of where they are.

The Heathers wander over in glee, but she hesitates, considering the situation.

It's too obvious, she thinks, all the signs of habitation are far too deliberate, it's a trap. Somehow this is a trap.

She opens her mouth to voice her thoughts, but stops. She doesn't want to be ridiculed for cowardice any more than she has been already. Instead, she pushes on as if she wants to be in the centre of the action, but makes sure she notes her escape routes. After all, any tribute is going to be much more concerned with killing the Careers than making sure she doesn't get away.

And sure enough, not five minutes later they come across two figures. The first, a big girl, is unmistakably Martha, but her heart lurches as she sees the second.

It is JD.

Fuck.

They approach with all the subtlety of a hoard of elephants who have just learnt how to emit a battle cry. Martha's face turns sheet white, she scrambles to her feet before slipping in the dirt and nearly falling over again. Meanwhile, JD is instantly alert, crouched catlike. He takes the situation in - his eyes sliding right past the Careers and making contact with hers. He raises his eyebrows, the edge of a smirk on his features. Then he has grabbed the nearest bag and is off into the undergrowth leaving his teammate no distraction from her advancing murderers.

"JD!" she screams, "Wait, please!" But he has long gone.

It all feels very deliberate.

To Martha's credit, she tries to run, first into the thick woodland like her teammate, but when it's clear that she won't be able to get through it with the speed of her partner she turns and runs in the opposite direction, towards her attackers, the shock element allowing her to push past the Careers, her bag swinging awkwardly over her shoulder, until she reaches Veronica.

Veronica sticks her foot out and Martha trips over, destined never to get up again.

Well, it wasn't like she was going to get very far anyway.

"Nice one!" says Heather McNamara.

Veronica smiles as if the compliment was worth it. It probably was. It's not like she has anything for Martha Dunstock (she had nothing against her either, but one fewer tribute is one fewer tribute and it was an easy way to look good in the eyes of the Heathers).

"JD!" Martha screams again, as if she really believes the pleas are going to make any difference to her fate.

The Heathers descend, blades at the ready. One could have really done the job but they all go forward, bustling each other to cause the most damage to the most pathetic tribute in the Games, laughing all the while.

As subtly as possible, Veronica looks away, so she doesn't have to see all the blood running right by her feet.

But this does nothing to hide Martha's screams as she calls for an ally who isn't coming.

You bastard, she thinks, she trusted you. Do you have no honour?

There's a special place in hell for the tributes who murder their district partner. At least that's what Panem thinks. If a victor who has killed their own is discussed, it never gets failed to be brought into the conversation, especially if they're from a non-Career district.

And this, this is different, this is plain and simple abuse of district trust. He could beat everyone remaining without a weapon and this will still be what he was known for. If he's the victor he'll be hated, booed when presented – there will be no real life for him if he wins.

It's almost like he's not planning to get out of here alive.

The screams turn to howls of pain and then stop altogether. She hears a cannon boom.

Heather Chandler and Heather McNamara retreat slightly to look at their handiwork. Heather Duke gets up, takes a few heaving breaths and pointedly looks away from the body, face very pale. A faint whirring sound can be heard in the distance as the hovercraft approaches.

"Heather, take her bag," Heather Chandler commands at Heather Duke – a trace of a smirk appearing on her face at the girl's evident disgust at the blood soaked rucksack.

"You take it," Heather Duke spits at Veronica before she has any chance to feel sorry for her.

Veronica grits her teeth, untangles the bag from Martha's corpse and slings it over her shoulders next to her other backpack. It is surprisingly heavy. She tries to ignore the fact the red, damp patches are still warm.

"We should look for her partner." Suggests Heather McNamara.

Heather Chandler rushes over in the direction where he ran away, "There's so much undergrowth, I can't see where he went. He'll be long gone. It's nightfall soon anyway, I don't fancy sleeping in the cold for some feeble looking boy who will probably not survive the night. He can't be very savvy if he thinks having her for a partner was a good idea."

Veronica is unconvinced by her reasoning but pleased by the decision, she does not think looking for JD will keep the odds in their favour.

The mood on the way back to camp is considerably more jovial than it has been all afternoon. Apparently killing someone so obviously weaker than them gives the Heathers no end of joy.

"Two kills!" Heather Chandler announces, as they join Kurt and Ram back at camp, "And a bag of booty. What have you two lameasses done?"

"Uh, only protected the rest of it," says Kurt, flexing his muscles, but his eyes follow the bag that Heather has ripped off Veronica's back, now it's useful again.

They scan it apathetically, "Compass, lame. Damp matches – useless. Pork scratchings – clearly she was into cannibalism, oooh what have we here?" Heather draws out a water bottle from the bottom of the bag, still filled to the brim, "three litres – that's the biggest we've got yet." She immediately puts it in her bag for tomorrow before continuing her search, "dried fruit – could be useful for a snack," she throws it into the bag too, "oh, and a butter knife – well maybe if she'd had that on her and pushed really hard she'd have given us a bruise," she cackles.

As they continue sorting through the last few items, Veronica notices a shadow fall over the Heathers' faces, she looks up in the sky and sees a cloud is covering the sun. No, not a cloud, clouds don't move that fast, nor are they bird shaped and heading towards them…

"Get your weapons!" she shrieks, pointing to the sky.

The camp is instantly on their feet, grabbing their swords and knives, and rushing over to the weapons pile for more.

There are five in total, coming towards them. These are not normal birds but Capitol bread muttations, specifically designed to hurt and programmed to kill. The size of a large child, these are ugly muttations of eagles, with foot-long beaks and talons that look sharp as knives.

They circle the area once or twice and then dive. For a moment it looks like they're aiming for something else they've seen in the trees, a deer perhaps? But then one of them gives a caw, and the others turn towards a far better source of meat.

Kurt and Ram are quick with spears, they take down an eagle each with one shot, and a further one falls to a quick succession of Heather Chandler's throwing knives. They are not so lucky with the last two. The first goes straight for Heather Duke, she and Heather McNamara, who rushes over to help, stab it several times with a sword until it falls to the ground but not before it has left a nasty gash in Heather Duke's left leg.

The final one pushes Ram over, steps firmly on both shoulders and pulls back its head so it can thrust its beak into his neck. Or it would have if he hadn't, with a swing of a sword, stabbed the beast in its underbelly.

"So," says Veronica, "Who fancies roasted bird tonight?"

They all laugh with her, if a little hysterically.

xxx

It turns out there's not much meat once she's plucked the muttations, they're designed to kill not to sustain, but between all five, there's enough for one meal for all of them. She cuts the meat into chunks, puts them on skewers and they roast them on the fire. The meat is lean but not unpleasant and exactly what they need after a day like the one they've had.

Now they're all safe again, the Careers seem to consider the attack one big adventure, Kurt and Ram are boasting about their winning shots, Heather Chandler is pretty pleased with her throwing knives and even Heather McNamara is going on about how she stabbed the bird.

Only Heather Duke is not participating, the wound the eagle left on the outside of her right thigh has only just stopped bleeding, she is holding a cloth over it, very determinedly not looking at the blood.

Maybe this was the attack the Capitol was planning to make things more interesting, thinks Veronica, something to make sure the viewers have an exciting night, but she can't help feeling like there's something more, something all of them have missed…

The Panem Anthem cuts through her thoughts, but there are no surprises in the sky, first the girl from 7 is shown and then Martha. Again, the Careers cheer unpleasantly at their kills.

"So," says Kurt, seconds after it has ended, with no reflection whatsoever on the children they murdered today, "tonight I want the new girl."

"Aw man!" says Ram, "I wanted her too."

Veronica freezes, heart sinking well beneath her feet.

The campsite is quiet for a few moments, all attention is on her.

"What's your damage, Veronica?" says Heather Chandler, "pick one of them."

The only blessing is that she knows such humiliation is going to be cut from being aired to the rest of Panem.

Ram shuffles over to her, sweaty arm placed around her shoulders, "Come on baby, you and I, it'll be big fun."

"No." says Veronica, pushing him away, "I don't want to."

"Well," says Heather Chandler, danger dripping from every word, "I want you to not be a kuse who is unable to swing a sword, but we can't all get what we want, can we? Do it now or you'll be history. It's a compliment anyway, they think you're hot."

Kurt sniggers.

Veronica takes in the threat, and the look of victory on Kurt and Ram's faces, as she calculates her next move.

"Oh give it a rest Heather," says Heather Duke, "she's probably a virgin."

Veronica does not reply, not sure whether to confirm or deny this statement.

Heather Chandler glares daggers at Heather Duke, "Fine, you do it then."

Heather Duke rolls her eyes but tosses her fiery hair and concedes.

Before she can get away, Heather Chandler turns back to Veronica, "Tomorrow," she hisses at her, deliberately loud enough for the whole campsite to hear, "to make up for it you are going to have a threesome with both of them, and if you don't, you're history. If I were you, I'd have a good long think about how you were a nothing before you met me. I hope you enjoyed eating dinner with us tonight, if you're not careful, you might not be so lucky tomorrow."

Kurt and Ram look like children who have been told they are getting ice cream for dinner. She feels faintly sick.

But on the bright side, by tomorrow one of us might be too dead to participate!

xxx

Afterwards, Heather Duke is sitting on her own by a tree, while the others prepare for sleep. Her face is a little green as she rubs some sort of lotion into the wound on her thigh from the eagle. She is doing her best to not look at it, but it is deep and has started bleeding again now she has been moving.

Veronica goes over, she doesn't mention Kurt and Ram, she doesn't know how to, "That cut looks nasty," she says, "are you ok?"

Heather tries to scowl but is wincing too much from the pain, "Of course I am. It was only a dumb animal." But the blood is still flowing and even she sounds doubtful.

Veronica looks in the first aid kit beside Heather, inside is a needle and thread, "I could stitch the wound for you? I heard it helps it heal."

Heather looks at her dubiously, "Have you ever stitched a wound before?"

"Not once," she says, "but I've hemmed a bazillion dresses, how much harder can it be?"

Heather groans, but doesn't resist when Veronica goes over to her and barely fidgets when Veronica pierces her skin.

"Nice accuracy," says Heather quietly, she's a lot softer when she's not around Heather Chandler, "you could do some good knife work with skills like that, if you know which veins to aim for."

"It's a little easier when your target isn't struggling and trying to kill you too," Veronica confesses, but smiles at the compliment anyway, "you can look away. I won't tell Heather."

"Thanks Veronica," she mutters, then, after a pause, "it's not that bad, being with the guys, like they're annoying, but Kurt's actually reasonably ok at it and Ram's not demanding the way David was. Are you a virgin?"

"No," she says, because once in a closet totally counts.

Heather shrugs, "You'll be ok then. You just bear it because you know otherwise they'll get all moody and anyway, it might give us an advantage when we have to kill them later."

Veronica seriously doubts she'll be alive by the time the Heathers turn on Kurt and Ram, but she feels this might not be something to bring up to her potential murderer. Anyway, she has a much more pressing question.

"How was Brad?"

"Incredibly mediocre." Heather says, clearly pleased she has the gossip, "took ages to get it up and then he couldn't last at all."

Veronica smirks, "Figures, I always knew he wasn't God's gift to women like he always claimed." She pauses, "Thanks, thanks for all that, by the way."

Heather is silent for a moment or two then says quietly, "She didn't need to do that to you, you know, people from District 2 are so vulgar."

"It's ok, I get she needs to swing her dick around."

Heather smiles bitterly and Veronica suddenly remembers how, in many of the Games she's watched, it is someone from District 4 who becomes the leader of the Careers, "Little-Miss-Eleven keeps us alive, that's enough for now."

xxx

She spends a long time awake that night. Now there are no other distractions, she has to think back on what she's done today and Martha's screams are playing round her head again and again. There was no excuse for it, not this time. She'd let Betty down, she destroyed Betty in her last moments, but she didn't kill the girl, Betty had decided to end her own life long before that. David had died because of her, but he'd died guilty and his death had saved three more lives. The stoner girl, she didn't kill her, only failed to stop her murder.

But Martha, Martha was not guilty of anything except incompetence. She wasn't going to live anyway, you shortened her life by about 30 seconds, her brain reminds her, but her heart thinks differently. She remembers all those years watching the Games, wondering how the tributes, so polite, so nervous, so human, in the interviews don't hesitate to kill a day later. Now she is one of them and she's still not sure if she knows the answer.

She tries to push the thoughts to the back of her mind, but the only thing she can replace it with is the stuff about Kurt and Ram. It seems silly really, worrying about this at all. After all she's done in the last few days, what's one more indignity, especially one that will only cause her to suffer, to add to the list? It's not like refusing will do anything to restore the ravaged husk of her soul that remains. She's going to have nightmares for the rest of her life in any case.

It was a mistake, she thinks, to have slipped and begun to view the Careers as allies. They are nothing like Betty or Dennis or Rodney or even Peter. While Betty dreamed of a world where everyone could live happily together, they kill screaming girls, steal what they've left behind and laugh about it once they're done. They want her here because it makes their lives easier and they will oblige her until they no longer need her. She needs them for the protection they offer her, so for now she will do what she needs to, to keep it that way. Whether that be murdering the innocent or giving up her body.

She's a survivor she thinks, or maybe realises, for the first time. Veronica Sawyer is a survivor and she will do whatever it takes to stay alive.

And if she makes it home… well she'll just have to survive facing what she did in the arena too.

The Careers twitch and occasionally shout in their sleep, and at one point during the night she's convinced she hears quiet female sobbing. For a wild moment, she wonders if maybe they share her haunting thoughts and nightmares, but there's no sign of it on any of their faces in the morning.


The Capitol Presents, the Surviving Tributes: Day 3

District 1

Heather McNamara

Ram Sweeny

District 2

Heather Chandler

David Remington

District 3

Betty Finn

Peter Dawson

District 4

Heather Duke

Kurt Kelly

District 5

Shannon Lucas

Rodney Bulb

District 6

Cathy Stone

Al Springer

District 7

Tracy Hophead

Bobby Young

District 8

Veronica Sawyer

Brad Richards

District 9

Courtney Chadwick

Keith Harrington

District 10

Shelly Little

Dennis Grundy

District 11

Phyllis McCarthy

Dwight Archer

District 12

Martha Dunstock

Jason Dean