A/N

Freedom is treating me well, I must say. And with freedom comes more updates! Happy times!

As before, we are continuing in the arena for this chapter, and let's see how some of our other tributes are getting on.

Logan Brightberd, District Eleven Male

"Hey, hold still."

Logan was all too familiar with being patched up; minor injuries part of his daily life. Whether that was from the splitting skin on his hands from over-working himself in the field, or the cuts and bruises from the fights he threw himself in the middle of; Logan was used to a healing touch, even if he was a pretty terrible patient.

"I'll get it in your eye if you keep moving," Livvy tutted, her touch gentle as she applied a handmade paste to the gash in his forehead he had gained by skimming an attack from Lunete's district partner quickly into the Games.

"Sorry," muttered Logan, trying to keep his head still. He had found himself drifting, his eyes wandering the area around them. Constantly on the lookout for danger, knowing what just the briefest moment of relaxation could cost him.

They had already lost Cameron; a fresh wound more painful than the one across his forehead, and one which was shared deeply between all three who remained.

Lunete had been silent since Logan had found her on the courtyard floor, and had literally swept her off her feet and carried her to safety. She had clung to his body like a young child –something his little sister, Leaf, used to do before she died –until they had stopped for a rest on Livvy's suggestion. Livvy had been the closest to Cameron, and it was clear that grief had struck her the most. Logan could see it in her eyes, the strain as she forced the tears back, though she threw herself into everything that they came across. Livvy had been the navigator, the investigator, the healer. She had never stopped, tirelessly ensuring the safety of her allies until she had noticed the ragged breaths which had slipped from Logan's lungs and insisted that he rest.

They had stopped at a small building, which resembled a humble shack; a combination of stone bricks and wooden planks forming the structure. A small patch of herbs grew outside, making Logan imagine that this could have once been a herbologist's hut, or an alchemist's arboretum –though of course he knew that this place had no real history; it was all a creation of the Capitol.

"That should do for now," Livvy sat back on her heels, wiping the residue of the herbal paste back into the small wooden bowl she had found in the hut. Having come from Seven, it did not surprise Logan that Livvy was familiar with plants, though he was unsure whether the natural remedy would be as effective as the usual salves his girlfriend Sif would purchase from the pharmacy back at home.

With a small sigh, though quiet enough not to draw Livvy's attention to it, Logan thought about home. He thought about home often, about what Sif and Basil and Thane were thinking. Were they watching him now? Were they worried?

Losing another child would be torturous for his parents too, Logan knew. They had never gotten over the death of their youngest daughter, and neither had Logan. Sure, they had carried on with their lives and there were plenty of times when they smiled and shared moments of joy. But there were always the darker moments; the quiet hour before dusk when Logan would feel the emptiness in the room next door where his sister used to sleep; the sight of a pretty dress which he knew she would have adored. If it was bad for Logan, it must have been worse for his parents, and he would hate to add to their pain.

But it wouldn't be so easy.

"Thanks, Liv," Logan smiled warmly towards his ally. She returned the smile, though there was a tremble to her lower lip, which she sharply bit down on as she rose quickly to her feet.

"How's your leg?" she asked, placing the wooden bowl on the wonky table in the one-roomed building.

Logan stretched out his leg, looking at the second of his courtyard injuries. It had been a deeper wound than the slash on his forehead; the tip of a trident having made an attempt to knock him down as he had risked his life to retrieve some supplies before finding his allies. Luckily, no major arteries had been hit, and it had been easy to stop the bleeding. Livvy had also spread some herbal paste across it, which in all honesty just kinda stung at the moment.

"Much better," the smallest white-lie fell from his tongue.

Livvy nodded.

"I'll fetch some more water, we're almost out," Livvy swiped up the bottle which had been in the bag Logan had gotten stabbed in the leg for.

Logan frowned, they had barely drank any of the water since the last time Livvy had filled the bottle from the nearby creek that ran behind the hut. But the tenseness in her jaw implied that there was another motive behind her actions.

"Why don't you have a sit down for a bit?" suggested Logan softly. "You need to rest too."

Livvy shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Livvy," Logan reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist as she walked past him.

She stopped, turning her forest green eyes towards his own. There was a glistening across their surface, the corners damp with tears both old and new.

"Please, Logan," she whispered. "Just let me be. I can't…" her words trailed off.

Sliding his hand down to Livvy's, Logan gave it a tight squeeze. With an understanding nod, he released his grip, watching as she slipped out of the hut.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Logan leant against the doorway, piecing himself together. Behind him, he heard a gentle scuffle and looked over his shoulder to see Lunete. She was on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms locked around her legs. In her hand she held a small chain, with a silver ring attached. She rubbed it slowly between her forefinger and thumb.

Walking slowly towards her, Logan lowered himself down to sit beside her.

"Hey moonbear," he nudged her in a friendly manner. "You alright?"

Moonbear was the nickname Logan had given to Lunete shortly after they had met in the training centre. Her name had reminded him of the moon, and his tendencies to form pet names had created moonbear from that association. Lunete didn't seem to mind, or at least she hadn't yet told him to stop calling her that.

Lunete said nothing, her shoulders rising and falling as she shrugged.

"It's ok to be scared, you know," Logan said with honesty. "I'm scared too. But we don't have to be controlled by our fear if we don't want to be."

"I…" Lunete opened her mouth, her voice almost too quiet for Logan to hear. "I can't help it."

Logan felt a tug on his heartstrings as he reached out and rubbed Lunete's knee.

"I'm here for you, moonbear –Livvy too," he tried to reassure her. "We'll keep you safe."

Lunete shook her head. "You…you can't promise that. No one can keep anyone safe. My sister…"

She fell silent, her eyes dropping back to the ring in her hand.

When it became clear that she did not wish to share more about her home life, Logan decided to fill the silence with his own stories. Perhaps establishing a common ground could encourage Lunete to open up around him, instead of bottling her emotions inside.

"I had a sister too," Logan said, feeling his chest tighten. "Her name was Leaf. We were really close, with our parents being out at work most of the time and our brother Thane always off doing whatever. We used to play hide and seek a lot –she always won, of course. I was too big to hide, but she had a way of really tucking herself into small spaces I couldn't reach."

He paused, noticing the small, sad smile that had formed on his lips.

"One day, Leaf got sick, really sick," Logan swallowed. "No one knew what it was, and we tried everything we could to save her, but…"

Lunete lifted her head, her large doe eyes glistening as she looked up at Logan. She knew the next part of the story without him needing to speak the words out loud.

There was a few moments of silence as Logan remembered the face of his little sister. She had only been four years old when she had died; far too young to have even known just a small part of the world. Perhaps it had been better that way; Logan wouldn't have wanted her to have seen the harsh realities of life. All the poverty, the corruption, the bullies. The world was no place for a happy little girl without a care in the world.

He cleared his throat, wiping his damp eye with the back of his hand.

"I blamed myself for her death for so long," he told her. "Thinking that I could have –should have –noticed the symptoms sooner. Maybe if I had then she could have been treated."

Lunete's arms tensed as she pulled her body in tighter.

"But what I've realised now is that no matter what you do, you can't change the past. You can remember the good memories, but don't dwell on the bad ones. The only thing you can change is the future; be the person you want to be, not the person you thought you were."

Logan knew the person he wanted to be. He just hoped that if he could make it back home, he wouldn't have to become anyone else.

Circe Sirona, District Four Female

Waves crash like anger, the current pulls like desperation. Circe Sirona, a fragile human being, tossed between the two of them feels her mind and her body tearing apart. She swims for the surface, her legs kicking out frantically against the pitch black expanse around her; her lungs are burning for oxygen. Meanwhile, her mind sinks lower and lower, plunging towards the cushioned bottom of the ocean where she will be taken from this life to the next life. A fresh start, a new opportunity to be better.

She wants to start anew; she is no longer content with the life she lives. There is no joy in the strings her parents pull. Circe Sirona is a puppet, but she is bringing the scissors to the strings now. She is closing the blades around the thread, but it will not cut. The strings are too strong. The scissors are too blunt. She is trying to drown, but her body is being pulled from the sea.

The air is in her lungs now, the water being forced out by the pressure on her chest. She is on her back again, dreaming of a time and place where she and her remain the best of friends.

Circe was on her back again. She was dreaming of a time and a place where she and Madeline were the best of friends. But the consciousness that had flooded her mind drew her out of her dream, bringing her back to the reality she had tried so hard to escape.

There was a painful throbbing in her head as Circe tried to sit up, her arms wobbling as she pushed her elbows beneath herself.

"Ah," she gasped as she felt an affliction in her abdomen, just between two of her lower ribs.

Taking the bottom of her top between her fingers, she rolled it up, looking down at her porcelain skin. Her stomach was rising and falling quickly as her breaths were compact and close together, and there was a thick bandage wrapped around her torso, holding her in tightly. A small darkened patch above where she had felt the pain stained the cream bandage.

"Madeline?" she whispered out loud, wondering whether she had come to seek her revenge.

But it was not Madeline who answered her call, but someone else.

"My sweet angelfish!"

Circe had no time to brace herself as her twin barrelled into her, knocking her weak body flat once again. She could not help but cry out at the pain that contorted her body, but there was a smile on her face all the same.

As her twin squealed an apology, rolling off her body and planting small kisses on her wound, Circe looked through blurred vision towards them.

"Cephus," she croaked. "My only joy."

"And you, mine," they replied, taking her face between their slender hands. "Well, that's not necessarily true. I have many joys in life, such as drugs and sex –but you, you my tender turtle, you are my greatest joy."

They embraced.

"Are you ok, Circe, my darling?"

Circe was not sure how to answer their question. She nodded.

"What happened?" her memory was unclear and she could feel herself slipping between the cracks of this reality and another, very distant one.

"Oh it was that wicked demon who tried to slay you!" Cephus exclaimed with enraged passion. "You were so marvellously about to skewer an enemy but they swooped in and they stabbedyou! Stabbed! With this knife!"

Cephus brandished a small knife in their hand.

"I have kept hold of this mortal blade so I may kill the monster who tried to take your life," they told her. "They shall rue the day they wronged the Sirona family!"

Circe winced as the throbbing in her head continued. She could vaguely recall the moments following the countdown; jumping from her podium and finding a trident, swiping for a taller boy who managed to skim past her, knocking down a girl and raising her weapon to move her from this life to another...

Ah!

A sharp pain crippled Circe as she remembered the feeling of a blade entering her body. There had been nothing after that, only her dreams, and now the present that she lay within.

"The howling told me that you were awake," the cynical voice of another interrupted Cephus' ramblings. Riddle Robello stood at the end of Circe's legs, her arms folded across her chest as she looked down. "Good to see you back in the land of the living, Circe."

Circe nodded in return.

"Circe," Cephus tapped her shoulder with excitement. "Riddle is a witch."

Riddle scowled almost instantly.

"I'm no witch," she retorted sharply.

"But you are!" insisted Cephus, leaping to their feet and grasping for her hands. "These hands right here, they healed my sister!"

Riddle rolled her eyes. "I just put pressure on the wound and sealed it up, that's all. Anyone with any basic first-aid training could do that."

Cephus was not convinced. "No, no. Beau told me that you were a witch, and that you could use magic to fix Circe. And you did!"

There was a sharp inhale from Riddle. "Beau told you that I was a witch?"

Cephus nodded. "Not an ugly witch with green warty skin –your skin is much less green. It's a little grubby and you have a few blackheads on your nose there, but that's nothing a good handmade salt scrub can't fix. As for the ugliness, well I suppose there is always cosmetic surgery."

Riddle's face was stone.

"Cephus," Circe reached out towards them. "Why don't you help me sit up?"

Abandoning their cruel judgement of Riddle, Cephus squatted down beside Circe, holding their hand flat against her back as they supported her. Riddle reluctantly held out a hand, which Circe accepted, and between them, Circe was brought to her feet.

The arena around them seemed to move as Circe stood up, the slabs of the courtyard feeling like a raft on a choppy ocean. In a panic not to fall overboard, Circe clutched at Cephus' arm, steadying herself.

"Whoa, I've got you there, little clam."

Circe smiled quickly in thanks.

"Well whilst you were out, Peach, Beau and Matt decided to go out scouting," Riddle told her as Cephus guided Circe to a box which she used as a seat. "They'll probably be back soon, but it's difficult to tell what time it is in here. Ragnar and I have started to sort through what supplies are left here. We're hoping to move further into the arena as soon as you can walk. That sound alright?"

Circe nodded. "I can go now."

"Maybe see how you are when the others get back."

"Ok."

Riddle nodded. "Well, if you're hungry then Cephus can fetch you the food we put aside for you. I've sorted out what we've got into rations –we can't afford to be greedy until we establish a sustainable food source. Get some rest, I'll be around."

Riddle then turned and walked away, heading to where Ragnar was poking around a pile of supplies. Circe watched for a short while as Cephus retrieved some food.

"Make sure to eat it all," Cephus instructed, breaking off a piece of corned meat and holding it in front of Circe's mouth. "Say ahhhh!"

Circe plucked the food from her twin's fingers, putting it in her mouth herself.

"Psst," Cephus suddenly whispered, ducking their head low. "Ok, so as soon as you're able to walk we're going to ditch these hoes, right?"

Circe looked at them.

"I don't trust them," Cephus frowned. "Riddle is so bossy, and Ragnar is far too emo for this decade. Peach and Beau are just so fucking annoying –they think they can out-fabulous me and that is absolutely absurd. And I don't know what that other kid's deal is. He's so quiet, though he does have a nice ass, I'll give him that."

"Cephus," Circe reached out and took their hand, stopping their rambles once more. "If you think we should leave them, then we'll leave them."

Cephus' eyes lit up. "Sirona sibling adventure?"

Circe nodded. "Sirona sibling adventure."

If Circe was stranded in this life for now then she would ensure that Cephus was safe and got out of the arena alive. That's all that mattered now; Cephus' life before anyone else. Circe's happiness would come in another life, whether that was the next one, or in a thousand lives, Madeline would be there, waiting for her.

Until then, this was just the beginning of a new end.

Cathedrite 'Cathy' Zhuang, District Nine Female

Cathedrite Zhuang was never one to complain. If it were raining, that was simply a drink for the plants. If it were cold, it was a perfect excuse to make a quilt. Every situation, no matter how bleak, she would find a bright side; a silver lining.

But Cathy was struggling to find the silver lining now.

It had been abhorrent. Cathy had witnessed death before, but as a celebration of one's life to be shared amongst family and friends. She had seen people pass peacefully in their sleep, the relief in their bodies as the angels lifted their souls to heaven.

But she had never seen so much brutality as she had witnessed in the last twenty four hours.

There was a sickening feeling that clenched around the pit of her stomach as she moved her feet one in front of the other, fatigue seeping into her muscles. Her throat was parched as she swallowed hard against the lump that had formed, the need to cough almost overwhelming as she feared to break the silence.

There had been nothing but silence since the violence had ceased around her. It was only the sound of boots scraping across the dusty ground and the low whisperings of shallow breaths that could be heard.

He walked several paces in front of Cathy. His strides were purposeful, his posture straight and his shoulders cutting straight like a freshly trimmed hedge. He had not spoken a word to Cathy, nor had he turned around to face her. And yet she followed, like a sheep to its flock, Cathy followed the boy who had both cursed and blessed her.

She did not know why she followed him, other than that she was sure it was fate. It was God's plan; this boy had entered her life for a reason, and she wanted to find out why.

"Perhaps…" Cathy called out meekly. "Perhaps we could rest a while? I'm afraid I am becoming rather tired."

He stopped.

"We keep moving," he replied without turning around.

Cathy lowered her head, continuing to walk as he too began to stride forwards. A growing ache in her ankles niggled at her with each step she took, her legs feeling shakier as she pushed on without sustenance. Cathy could survive on very little; she only ever ate what she needed, and only ever slept as many hours as her body required. But she could not survive on nothing at all.

After perhaps another half an hour, Cathy spoke again. "Please, I need to rest."

He sucked in a sharp breath, coming to a sharp stop.

"Fine."

"There's a little creek over there," Cathy spotted a small slither of water from the glistening of the moon's reflection upon its surface. "We could drink."

Without waiting for permission, Cathy walked over to the creek, kneeling down beside the water's edge as she dipped her hands in its cool trickle. She cupped her hands carefully, bringing a mouthful of water to her lips. There was an instant feeling of relief as she quenched her thirst.

After drinking and washing her hands in the creek, Cathy turned to see the boy perched on a nearby rock, scratching the tip of a knife into the tough exterior. As Cathy watched him, she noticed a small tear in the arm of his top, where it looked as though he had been cut.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, rising slowly to her feet.

The boy flashed his empty eyes towards her, his lips pulled tightly together as he shook his head.

"I think you are," insisted Cathy, taking cautious steps towards the boy. As she drew nearer she could see that he had clearly been injured; a deep, but clean, cut through his bicep. "It should be cleaned or it could become infected."

The boy flinched as she reached out a hand, retracting himself away from her touch.

"I want to help you," said Cathy softly. "Like you helped me."

Cathy's heartrate increased as she remembered their earlier encounter. She had been searching for Aida and Phoenix when one of the Career girls had cut her path short. Cathy had tried to run, but her feet had failed her and she had fallen on her back. There had been a distant look in the girl's eyes as she had raised her trident to pierce Cathy's heart, and Cathy had been fighting to reach God through the sudden and unexpected fear that had taken her. But she had not needed to make her peace, not in that moment, as the dark boy from Ten had appeared as though from nowhere at all, striking down the threat and pulling Cathy to her feet. She had run with him, finding her body moving without her own control, and she had been following him since.

Whoever this boy was, he had saved her life, and Cathy would not forget.

Nor would she forget the kindness shown to her by Aida and Phoenix during the last few days in the Capitol. She knew they wouldn't have left her if they'd felt they had no choice, and she harboured no ill feelings towards them. Rather, she hoped that they were both safe somewhere and that whatever their fates were, it would be gentle.

"I don't need your help," the boy spat harshly, turning his face away.

"Well I don't care," Cathy found a confidence taking her. "Either you tell me the truth about why you saved me, or you let me clean your wound. Your choice."

Remembering the game of 'truth or dare' she had played with Aida and Phoenix, Cathy knew that in many situations, people preferred to take a reckless action over speaking with honesty. The boy before her, she was certain, was the same.

"Fine, do what you must."

With a triumphant smile, Cathy stepped closer.

"I'll need to reach the wound –may I tear the material a little further?" she asked.

With a huff, the boy stood up, pulling the top off over his head and tossing it beside his feet. Cathy stifled a gasp, her eyes instantly drawn to the scars that coated his pale skin. Suddenly scalding herself for almost being judgemental when she knew next to nothing about the boy, Cathy picked up his discarded top, dipping a corner of the black material into the creek.

"This may sting a little," she warned, holding the material towards his arm.

As she gently pressed the wet material against his wound, the boy flinched, though Cathy knew that it was not due to pain. Continuing to dab the wound with a light touch, gently cleansing the broken skin, Cathy sensed that the boy had lived a life with very little affection. It pained her to imagine such a life, and she found herself wondering what he had been through.

"So, I never caught your name," Cathy spoke quietly, her eyes flicking between the wound and the boy's face, which was facing forwards and away from her. "I'm Cathedrite, but most people call me Cathy."

"…Valak," he said after a long pause.

At the sound of his name, Cathy found herself surprised at its somewhat familiarity. Though she could not put her finger on it as she continued to nurse his wound, returning to the creek to dampen another part of the material.

"Why…" Cathy hesitated as she remained by the side of the creek, her back towards Valak. "Why did you save me, Valak?"

Silence.

"I noticed you watched me a lot in the Capitol," Cathy continued, finding her courage. "I think you wanted to speak to me, but you could never find the words."

She paused.

"Perhaps…perhaps you could find the words now?"

She stood up, turning to face Valak but remaining beside the creek. He had been fiddling with his knife again, turning it around and around in his hands, but as Cathy awaited his voice, he looked up towards her.

"Do you believe in the devil, Cathedrite?" he asked plainly.

"Oh," Cathy was a little taken aback. "Well yes, I do, though I have never come close to the devil myself and I hope that I never do."

A dark, shadowed look passed over Valak's face. "You are beside the devil now."

A small gasp escaped Cathy's lips, and she felt herself take a step backwards, her boots sinking into the shallow waters of the creek behind her.

"You are not the devil," she returned. "I would know if I were with the devil, and you are not he."

"Perhaps not," Valak shrugged. "But the devil and I are close friends."

Cathy breathed in sharply. "I don't believe you. You are just trying to scare me because you are afraid of people showing you kindness. You push people away with your aggression because you do not want them to see the humanity within you. You are not evil, Valak, no matter how hard you try to show the world that you are. And I am not afraid of you."

She found herself taking faster, shorter breaths as her words fell silent and Valak rose to his feet.

Cathy could feel her heart racing and her hands clasping tightly together, her nails digging into the soft palms of her hands, as Valak approached her. But she did not back down; she remained still and her eyes staring into his.

She would not give in to fear.

Stopping barely an inch from her, Valak lowered his head to Cathy's ear, his lips brushing against them. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt his hot breath against her neck.

"You speak as though you know me," he whispered. "I can assure you, Cathedrite, that you do not know me. Perhaps you are mistaking me for someone you once knew."

As Valak backed away, Cathy's eyes followed his. For the briefest of moments there was a look upon his face that Cathy knew she had seen before.

But it was more than just a look she had seen before. Cathy had seen Valak before.

Some time ago, a long time perhaps, at a point of Cathy's life she had believed to have lost to the passing of time. Somewhere, in the deepest depths of her memories, was a single moment.

And in that moment, and in the moment which now stood before her, Cathy saw her brother.

A/N

No deaths again? What is happening? Have I gone soft? Pfft, of course not, I just have plotlines to develop that I enjoy, so hey, just enjoy the blood-free ride again, yeah? Can't say it will last... (you can interpret that in whatever way you want to for the next chapter, just saying, or not saying...)

So Logan is as sweet as ever, as his alliance was reduced to three following Cameron's death. The loss of a friend and ally is really being felt by these three, Livvy in particular. She is eager to help those around her, but how long can she keep distracting herself before it all becomes too much? Logan is trying to hold them all together, and reaches out to Lunete with a story from his past. Is this an opportunity for Lunete to open herself up, or is the fear still too strong?

Circe has had a narrow escape from death, though she doesn't seem entirely sure that it was what she wanted. Ever drifting between two realities, Circe seems to want to start anew and find forgiveness for the mistakes she has made. The Careers are beginning to fracture, however, as already Peach, Beau and Matt have separated to scout, whilst the others stay back. Riddle is maintaining control, but even Cephus can see the potential for destruction within the pack. Will they and Circe effect their escape?

An awkward scene between Cathy and Valak as they have been together for some time without speaking. Cathy finds herself drawn to follow him, though she wonders what fate has in store for her. She finds her courage as she nurses Valak's wounds, asking him why he saved her and then fighting back against his cynical nature with her own optimistic views. At the final moment, she finally realises who he truly is. Where does this leave them both now?

Righto, so a little reminder before I love you and leave you. The poll still remains alive, as I have been asked to keep it open for those catching up with pregames. If you haven't voted for your favourite three tributes from pregames then consider this a reminder before I close!

I am also being swept away on a surprise last-minute holiday as a celebration for finishing my professional course, so I will be away from Tuesday, meaning that there will not be an update next week. There will most likely be one the following week, as I'm keen to press on!

Until then,

Firefly