Author's Note
I do not own the Hunger Games.
d10f
He's getting worse, feverish and delirious. She's surprised he makes the night. She's enjoyed having him with her, but they aren't friends – they can't be – and this is cruel.
She draws her knife and he begs, pleads, but she points out he's dying.
She wouldn't have left a calf in this condition, let alone a human being.
She kisses his head and holds him tight.
Tears warm her face and his cannon rings.
d2f
Seven of them left, and the fog has spent the last day creeping over the entire arena. They're looking forward to a District Two Victory, but the ground is groaning and shifting beneath their feet, and things are punching through. She screams and they run, but they're grabbing at them and her last consolation is that it can still be a District Two Victory.
d4m
They run, and even though he shouldn't he finds himself holding to her arm to make sure she keeps up until they can climb one of the mausoleums to where it's safe.
She stares down at the mutts with those pale eyes of hers and a strange look on her face.
"What is it?"
"They're so sad."
d7m
He's too weak from infection when the mutts drive them together, and even though she's smaller and thinner she drives her knife through his neck and he's not sure if she cries for him.
D10f
She doesn't know how she's ever meant to face her siblings again.
D4f
He wakes her with a hard shake and looks at her with wild eyes. She's already on her feet, gazing up at the moon.
"You could have warned me you sleepwalk."
"I don't."
But the moon had felt welcoming, and she wants it.