Author's Note: Wow! I can't believe it's been this long without updating this fanfiction. I'm so sorry for the delay! The good news are I have proofread all the previous chapters and fixed some tiny details in them. The better news are that I bring a new chapter and the promise of some more this week! Thank you for the patience lovelies!

I can see my own shocked expression reflected in his blue eyes. Damn those sapphire Mellark eyes! It's impossible to look into them and escape from yourself, that's the thing with the baker sons': I can never lie to them. So I go for the cowardly thing to do and tear my eyes off him, into the woods as if I was looking for something there, and in fact I am, but I know I won't get the words I need by staring into the trees. I know now for sure that this is being broadcasted, that question is so loaded I know all Panem must be at the verges of their seats.

It's not like I hadn't seen that question coming, in fact Haymitch had thrown it to me on various occasions. But there was always a door for me to slam between us. I can't walk away from Danny, not here. I haven't allowed myself to even consider that possibility, especially because of the alarming fact that it's the most plausible scenario. Only the best tributes remain at the end, and if I want Danny to leave the Arena not only in one peace but with a clear conscience then I have to be the best. I cannot let Cato kill me off and leave the twelve-year old to fend for himself once they are the last two. Alliances are disgusting. How do you know it is okay to stop caring for your ally? Someone can only have your back in the Arena for so long. Gale's words echo in my head and I want to bury my face in my hands to shield it from Danny's gaze and the cameras that are for sure awaiting my reply

Volunteering as a tribute counts as a suicide, and I am well aware of that. But it's a whole different thing to step forward to defend my brother than to hold a knife to my own throat.

I feel a hundred years older when I finally speak. "To make it to the last two we have to make it to the last eight first, and to the last sixteen before that. Let's take things one step at a time, alright boss?" When I finally dare return his gaze I know he is not pleased with my answer, but he lets it go, which makes me think that maybe he doesn't want to think about it either. No one does.

By the time Cato and the others come back Lee is done working and we are sitting together near a campfire, I try to look at the bright side and enjoy the warmth radiating from the fire. Once we abandon the careers we won't be able to sit calmly around a delicious fire to keep warm; in the dark nights, fires mean death, and I won't lose Danny for a mistake as stupid as that. We are taking sleeping bags when we leave.

They are still talking about the tribute they just killed, the girl from Eight, joking about it would be more precise. And once they are close enough to us they sit around the fireplace and recount with juicy details the last moments of the girl. I have to refrain myself from covering Danny's ears, so I focus on not seeming disgusted and laugh at the supposedly humorous remarks Marvel adds to Glimmer's story. Danny keeps quiet and works on his dried fruit. No one mentions it.

Around an hour later the sky is dark enough for the Capitol's seal to be projected among the stars. If I think about it, it feels as if the day has been shortened, and I know it is a possibility seeing that the Gamemakers control everything in the Arena, but I'm glad to see we've provided a day interesting enough not to throw at us some artificial catastrophe that makes us run for our lives... yet.

Six tributes are dead, the girl from Three, the boys from Four and Five, the girl from Eight and both tributes from Nine. Even when we knew she was alive both Danny and I relax when Rue's face is absent from the sky.

I volunteer to take the first watch, so Marvel and I find ourselves sitting together by the fire. In the Cornucopia there were a few tents and the Career's have set them, everything is so quiet I am able to hear all their breathings. I can easily identify Danny's, he is sleeping alone on the tent closest to us, awaiting for me to complete my shift.

Marvel is actually very funny, when he isn't talking about murder. He manages to make me laugh honestly a few times and that scares me. Because I am afraid that the longer I hang out with him the more difficult it will be to kill him if it comes to it. I'm taken back to a day in the woods were Gale and I sat, giving it time for the animals to fall into our snares.

"Could you ever kill a person?" I asked, because if someone was famous for asking morbid questions, that would be me.

Gale remained silent for a moment, even though I knew he already had his answer. "What's the difference from killing an animal anyway? I don't kill them because I want to, or because it's fun, or because I enjoy violence, you know that. We kill because we have to, to survive. So if it came to it I would kill a person, and it wouldn't be any different." As always he spoke fluently, as if he had memorized his whole answer. "And you?"

I kept my silence, and stared forward without giving him a reply. Hours later before we crossed the fence to get back into the district he looked me dead in the eye and said "If you have to kill someone to survive, they are monsters, Catnip. And that doesn't really make them any different from animals."

Cato wakes up, and him and Clove take our places. Marvel smiles at me and waves goodbye, I catch myself waving back. Only when I'm in the safety of the tent, away from cameras and fake allies, do I allow my face to break down. I bite my fist not to scream. I keep my sobs quiet not to wake up Danny, who sleeps peacefully in a sleeping bag next to me.

When my sobs finally subdue, and I'm preparing myself to get my fist out of my mouth to go to sleep, the unmistakable noise of a neck breaking is followed by a high five and some chuckles. A canon goes off and Danny gasps in his sleep. I keep quiet and he goes back to his rhythmic breathing.

I hear Cato and Clove dumping the corpse of the boy from Three somewhere, and soon after the hovercraft comes to collect it. I should have never asked for his name. I realize.

Because that is what makes them different from animals. They might be monsters, but I know their names. I know they can smile, I know they can laugh. I lack Gale's ability to see everything black and white, both Marvel and Lee and even myself are in dark shades of gray and I can't force myself to ignore the white on them. I try not to vomit when I think of the girl whom I killed earlier this day and I find myself biting my fist hard again. Blood runs down my knuckles but I don't care.

Because if Gale is right then I am a monster too.