Author's Note
I do not own the Hunger Games.
d12m
The cannon wakes him.
Another tribute gone.
He wonders when it will be his turn.
d4f
She knows she's scaring him.
She doesn't know how to stop.
It's like seeing the world through new eyes.
When she sleeps she dreams queer dreams.
She hates it.
d2f
She's not surprised when she wakes in the morning and finds only one of her allies instead of both.
d1f
It felt like a good time to get out.
There are only nine of them now, and if there had been more in the Career alliance perhaps she'd have worked out an alliance but she won't be able to drive a wedge between the Twos, so she leaves alone, cursing her District partner for being such a useless coward.
She runs for as long as she can run to put distance between them, and then slows to a walk.
She's made it this far.
She tells herself she can do this.
d10m
It hurts, it hurts so much.
She patches him up as best she can, and they limp away from their former campsite.
He doesn't know that she won't finish him off, but he's not well enough to turn on her.
d12m
The day passes with no more cannons. As night draws in, another face appears in the sky. He eats the last of his food, drinks the last of his water, and hopes he can find more in the morning.
d7m
His arm is turning purple where the boy he tried to fight cut him. Poison or infection? He isn't sure. He had tried boiling water to treat it, but it hasn't helped.
He needs out of here soon.
d2m
They don't bother hunting for her.
They'll meet again soon enough, if she makes it far enough.
No more deaths come that day, and he takes first watch for the night.
They'll find someone tomorrow.
D2f
It's harder with just the two of them, but they're Careers even if they're less and younger than usual. They strike true, and then there are eight of them.
D4f
He's been nice to her.
She hopes he won't cry for her.
She hopes she's right.