I run. I run and I try not to think about the fact that I'm running from something as ridiculous as a pack of noisy crows. All my grace, coordination and dexterity has been thrown off by their squawking and I stumble through the forest, my lankly limbs crashing through the maze of branches and underbrush. I'm completely thrown off…almost like after I was stung by the tracker jackers. My lungs tighten and scream for more oxygen while beads of sweat slip down my torso and into my many scratches, burning me as I run.

My foot catches on a root and I faceplant into a bed of pine needles. Inexplicably terrified, I immediately roll over and take a defensive stance, spear ready and muscles coiled for battle. It's then that I notice the silence of the forest. The crows are gone and not even the sound of leaves rustling penetrates the silence. When did the crows go away? I could hear their squawks pounding inside my head the whole time I was running. I heard them as I fell and yet they're gone, vanished as strangely as they came.

It must've been the gamemakers. They must've pushed me right here for a specific reason. Why else would six crow randomly decide to harass me?

It then occurs to me that if the gamemakers pushed me here…I'm probably not the only one. My hands instinctively tighten around my spear at the thought and I start scanning the forest, trying to see beyond the wall of trees. They want me here, most likely to fight someone, but who?

I hope it's Clove. Of my remaining enemies, she's probably the one I'm most confident against. Thresh, despite his lack of training, would be a terrifying adversary in close-combat and Cato…well, even injured, he's still Cato. I haven't forgotten our last struggle, where he was hallucinating on tracker jacker venom and I still barely escaped with my life.

Lewis is another story. In spite of what I saw him do to the boy from Ten, I can't quite find it in my heart to hate him like I do Clove or Cato. Lewis is…lost. In a way, he's a living victim of the Games. It stripped him of who he was and remade him in its image, something dark and cruel and far removed from the nervous kid I chucked spears with back at the Training Center. That kid's long gone and what's left is only a shadow. I can't hate that. I can't hate something so broken.

I almost expect one of these adversaries to spontaneously appear like the crows did, but instead there's nothing. Those bastards must want to build the suspense. I keep forgetting that while this is a life and death struggle for me, it's just good television to them. As more time ticks by, I begin simmering, imagining the gamemakers chuckling in their control room as I stand here, nervous as cat and watching every possible inch of the forest for any sign of my enemies.

As I turn, certainly not hoping but expecting to see Cato drawing his sword or Clove digging a knife out of her vest, I see something I wasn't looking for: a camera. Usually they're concealed but this one is built right into one of the trees, its huge glassy lens about as subtle as a rampaging elephant against the rough bark of the tree. I can't help but draw closer, looking deep into its blank eye. Although I can't see them, I know the gamemakers are watching me. Hell, maybe this is on television. It's been kinda slow lately and I'm sure me hauling ass away from a few crows sent those drunken Capitol idiots into hysterics.

I can feel the bitterness rising. This camera is the first cog of the Capitol machine I've encountered in here and it brings out the worst in me. The tributes that have died so far, all fifteen of them, died for this. They died so the Capitol could be entertained. I realize how stupid I've been. As distasteful and brutal and unpleasant as most of the careers have been, they aren't the enemy. This right here, the camera, the Capitol is the enemy. The careers wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for the Games. They'd just be normal teenagers if this competition didn't exist. They would've never been molded into the hardened killers they are today.

I'm about to pick up a rock to smash the damn thing when I first hear it, a scream. But it's not just any scream, it's lighter, higher and terrified. It's the scream I heard when Striker was little and had nightmares of monsters creeping out of the darkness towards him. It's a child's scream.

Rue. The thought makes my stomach drop and, without another thought, I begin sprinting towards the source. It's just sound at first, but I keep running and it becomes intelligible. I make out my name, along with Katniss and frantic calls for help. It makes me sprint even faster, the maze of trees flying by in whirlwind as my body takes on a weightless quality. Nothing, not the spear in my hand or the weight of my pack against my shoulders could slow me down. Not when my little ally is in danger.

"Katniss! Help!"

The call is clearer now and it raises my panic. The forest has come alive now, wind forcing itself through the branches as birds fly off, frightened by the terrified sounds.

"Marvel! Katniss!"

The voice is so close now and I hear the frightened octaves rising in pitch. I only pray I'm not too late.

I put on a final burst of speed, cresting a small rise, and am immediately met by the sight of Lewis over twenty yards away, standing over the terrified form of Rue beneath a heavy net. He grins maliciously as she screams and raises his spear.

No.

It's too far to throw, even for me.

I do the only thing I can, run and hope I can get close enough to throw in time. I leap forward as Lewis' raises his spear to the zenith of its height.

"LEWIS! NO!" I scream, a mixture of rage and terror as I desperately try to get into my throwing stance.

It all happens in a second. Lewis drives his spear down as he turns to look at me. He must've heard me over Rue's cries. I bring my arm back to throw and I notice his eyes widen. It's then that a silver arrow buries itself in his neck.

Katniss has arrived on the scene out of nowhere and begins rushing towards the pair as Lewis crumbles to his knees, gargling and feebly trying to stop the crimson flow from his neck. Katniss' face is contorted into a look of rage and anguish and it's then that I notice the reason. Lewis' spear found its mark, lodging itself deeply in the small girl's stomach.

Katniss flings her bow down and delivers a vicious kick to Lewis' face, knocking his frail body away from Rue and leaving him sprawled out on the forest floor, drowning in his own blood. I feel myself move automatically, dropping my spear and rushing over as Katniss kneels down beside Rue.

I find myself standing over them as Katniss takes the small girl's hand, holding it like it's something precious.

"You blew up the food?" Rue asks, her voice a delicate whisper.

"Every last bit," Katniss says, emotion seeping into her voice.

It's then that Rue notices me standing there and manages a weak smile.

"Hey Marvel. Sorry I didn't get to that last fire," Rue says.

"Don't you worry about that," I say, my voice beginning to tremble.

I'm suddenly aware of how far away I am and I immediately remedy it, hustling over to Rue's other side. I kneel down and take her unoccupied hand. My eyes drift down to the wound and I know it's over. A blow like that definitely got some vital organs and god only knows how much internal bleeding there is. I look over to Katniss and notice her meet my gaze. Her shimmering silver eyes are almost pleading, begging me to say what she knows isn't true, that Rue will be alright. I merely shake my head. Katniss is a hunter. She knows what this means.

"You guys can't let them win," Rue says, her gaze drifting over to Lewis.

"I promise," Katniss says, squeezing Rue's hand.

I look down at her and give her the best smile I can, which she returns even better.

"Don't worry. They're not winning. No fucking way," I say, my voice tight but convicted.

A cannon shot booms and I take a sharp breath before I notice Rue's still with us. It must've been for Lewis.

"Don't go," Rue says, tightening her grip on both our hands.

"We're not going anywhere," I say. I just wish the spear wasn't in the way. I'd give anything to be able to give her a hug right now.

"It's okay," Katniss whispers, bringing the small girl into her lap and stroking her hair the tender way a mother would.

"Can you sing for me?" Rue asks Katniss, her voice a whisper.

Sing. Of course she wants that, her love of music and her mockingjay tunes. Katniss' gaze snaps to me, looking shocked. I can't sing. I know that. My voice is about as beautiful as President Snow in a thong…but maybe Katniss can sing.

She looks a bit nervous, like she's trying to think of something. Whatever it is seems to hit her and she gives a small cough before beginning:

Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

And when again they open, the sun will rise

Katniss' voice is beyond beautiful. Its magical. Its notes are as pure as a diamond, flowing out and hanging softly in the air above us. For the second time today, the forest has gone silent.

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you

Rue's eyes have gently closed and her breathing has slowed, but she still holds my hand. I feel tears I didn't know I was crying fall from my face as Katniss summons the strength to continue.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away

A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray

Forget your woes and let your troubles lay

And when again it's morning, they'll wash away

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

Katniss whispers the last few lines and we sit for a moment before the cannon fires. Katniss presses a gentle kiss into the little girl's forehead and I give her hand one last squeeze before we gently place her on the ground.

Katniss gets up and goes to loot Lewis' corpse, but I can't take my eyes off of Rue. She looks smaller and more vulnerable than ever, curled around the spear like a wounded animal. I dry my eyes and notice that the mockingjays have taken up Katniss' song, the notes beautiful even from the throats of the mutant birds.

Katniss must not have found much on Lewis because she picks up her bow and begins to head out. Not wanting to be left behind, I grab my spear and head after her. Before I've reached her, she stops and pivots toward me. I'm no fool though. She's not looking at me. She's looking at Rue.

I look back and feel my heart ache at the sight. It looks like a murder scene…which I suppose it was. Rue deserves better than that. I owe her more than that.

Katniss seems to be thinking the same thing because she turns her unflinching gaze on me.

"Will you help me?" she asks.

I merely nod as answer and follow as Katniss begins moving. She hurries over to a patch of wildflowers I hadn't even noticed. They're beautiful and delicate. They seem like something too good for this arena…just like Rue. Katniss begins gathering them and I do the same. We hurry back to where Rue lies with our bounty and Katniss immediately gets to work, decorating our fallen friend with flowers. I pick it up quickly and join in. We cover the ugly wound and wreathe her face with the beautiful petals. Slowly, Katniss even weaves them through her hair, slowly softening the hard edges of the grisly scene. Covered by the flowers and with her eyes serenely closed, Rue doesn't look dead. She looks like she's sleeping peacefully, dreaming of somewhere beautiful where kids get to grow up instead of dying young.

We need to get moving. Like it or not, the bodies must be collected. Knowing the Capitol, they won't want to show this, but they'll have to. They have to film the bodies when they're picked up. Katniss gets up and I move to follow before I remember something. I dig through my pack and find a small acorn, one of the many ones Rue had thrown at me. I gently place it in Rue's tiny hand and close her fingers around it.

"Thanks, little buddy," I whisper before getting up.

Katniss hasn't gone far, pausing about ten feet from the body. She turns and presses the three middle fingers of her left hand to her lips and extends them out towards Rue. It's a silent salute and it carries its own weight and more. Then, without looking back, Katniss walks away. I pause a moment before following, looking back at Rue, resting peacefully in her bed of flowers. The only blemish is the shaft of Lewis' spear still sticking out of her. I could move it, or even take it for myself, but I don't. It's better to let it go. I doubt I could ever find the strength to use that spear anyway.

My gaze drifts over to Lewis, who's still sprawled out on his back not too far from Rue. He must've bled out. He looks awful, blank eyes open, staring at nothing like a caught fish. His bronze face and his clothes are streaked with his crimson blood, which has run into the dirty ground around him and turned it into some kind of grisly mud. I suppose the decent thing to do would be to pose him, close his eyes and make him look somewhat peaceful for the cameras, for his family. But I look back at Rue and can't find the desire to do anything for Lewis. After what he did, I don't feel like doing him any favors.

I turn and notice Katniss moving briskly through the woods, with some unimaginable purpose in mind. Without another thought, I hurry after her.

Katniss marches aimlessly through the woods for I don't know how long, eyes fixed forward and not answering any question about where she's going. She must be too torn up about Rue. Even I could see there was a special bond between the two, the way they laughed and talked of home, almost like they were sisters sharing the most intimate of secrets. Katniss has always seemed so strong, sturdy and grounded as an oak tree, surviving whatever adversity came her way, from her father's death to being roped into the Hunger Games. But Rue's death seems to have rattled her, enough to make her shed tears.

I follow in her wake most of the day. After a few attempts, I give up trying to get her to tell me where she was going. I suspect she doesn't even know. I think she's just moving, desperately trying to make sure things don't slow down. When things slow down and your thoughts creep in, that's when everything gets harder. The dam of your composure, keeping back torrents of emotion, begins to crack with the calm and, once it does, you will shatter.

By dusk, she seems to have worn herself out…that or her instincts of self-preservation are making a comeback. Without a word to me, she scurries up a massive oak tree, into the high branches that sway like antennae in the wind. Okay, maybe her instincts of self-preservation aren't quite back yet. I climb up one branch and stop, not wanting to press my luck and suspecting Katniss wants to be alone. I simply lean back on the sturdy bark, savoring the strength of the branch and the feeling of security that comes with being off the ground. It's nice to be in a tree for once, a little ways away from whatever mutts may come prowling tonight. Then again, I doubt any mutts would come tonight. Two people died today. That's more than enough entertainment.

I feel a slight chill coming on, yet another way the gamemakers subtly make our lives miserable. I dig through my pack, looking for my extra socks, when something gives me pause. A wild onion, just one, nestled in the confines of my bag. I lift it up slowly and with it comes memories. Memories of soothed tracker jacker stings. Memories a friendly laugh. Memories of hugs and jokes and good ideas and a few acorns hitting me in the forehead. I feel tears threatening and quickly put the onion back. I haven't forgotten the cameras. Rue deserves the tears, but they certainly don't. Rue's death was nothing to them but a superb television drama, sad but ultimately unimportant in the grand scheme of things. I'll hold them 'til the time is right, when there's no way for them to convert my pain into their entertainment.

It's not easy. Letting the emotions and memories take over would be easier. I wish I was still moving. Moving kept the thoughts and the memories away, just like I'm sure it did for Katniss. As they come back, passing one at a time like pages in a book, I realize just how much I didn't deserve Rue, both as an ally and a friend. I didn't deserve her kindness, her help, her trust. She saved me and yet I let her down when she needed me most. She needed my help and I failed, allowing Lewis to skewer her while she lay helpless in his net. Now, she's gone. Her siblings have lost their big sister. Her parents have lost their daughter. And I've lost my friend...and it's all my fault.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, seeing the memories pass before my eyes.

As if on cue, the anthem begins to play. Wearily, I raise my head and gaze upon the seal of the Capitol, which grows more distasteful with each passing day. Lewis' grinning face appears first, porcelain smile gleaming and bronze skin unmarred. It's the old Lewis, the fidgety kid from training…not the mutt the arena made him into. Lewis' face is quickly replaced by Rue's and I swallow a lump in my throat. She looks so happy, so serene in her photo. Her dark eyes have that familiar playfulness and spark of intelligence that always proved invaluable. All that value and all that potential snuffed out at twelve-years-old because I wasn't enough. Rue deserved a better friend than me. Her face soon vanishes, leaving the sky dark and taking the last remnant of my friend away forever.

It's deep into the night when I stir. Judging by the where the moon is, I'd say it's an hour or two past midnight…at least in the arena it is. Who knows what time it is in the real world. I don't know when I fell asleep but it must've been sometime after the anthem. Thinking of the anthem brings me back to Rue and how she's gone. I wish I hadn't woken up. Sleep gives me some reprieve from the daily misery of the games.

I readjust myself again the hard bark of the trunk, but notice something, weight leaning into my left side. I twist my head over to see Katniss, knocked out and using my shoulder as a pillow. Is this a dream? My mind is still foggy with sleep so maybe.

"Katniss?" I say.

"Hmmm…" she mutters, squinting her eyes tighter.

The time she slept next to me before, she looked peaceful, serene in a way she can never afford to be while she's awake. Now she just looks…sad. Sad and distressed even in sleep. Rue's death must be hitting her even harder than I thought. God knows it's hitting me too.

I decide not to press the situation, even if it's incredibly confusing. Now isn't the time to ask her what's going on in her head. I simply put my arm around her and pull her closer. She presses into me and mumbles something into my shoulder, but I don't quite catch it. I'm too busy noticing the sense of rightness being with Katniss always fills me with. It's odd. A few weeks ago, I didn't even know of her existence and somewhere along the way I just started to care for her in a way that I've never cared for anyone. I wish time hadn't passed and the Games hadn't intruded. Who knows what might've happened to us if we could just know each other without the threat of competition hanging over our heads.

There's so much to figure out and so little time to do it. The Games are winding down. We're down to the final seven tributes and I don't want to think about what'll happen if we outlive the other five. I need to talk to Katniss to figure all this shit out, but it can wait a little longer. It can wait 'til tomorrow.

A/N: Hey, guys. Sorry for the delay but this was an extremely difficult chapter to finish. While I was in the process of editing it, I got a call from my dad saying that my grandfather had passed away. That really took it out of me for a while, especially considering this chapter's content. While not unexpected, my grandfather's death wasn't easy to process and it took some time before I was ready to finish this one. Once again, I just want to say that I love you guys for reading and that y'all mean a lot to me. Even if some of you thought I never noticed the love you gave this story, I did and I'm so grateful.