When Haymitch was shot up into the arena, the sun blinded him, and water seemed to sparkle everywhere. The nearest piece of land was several metres away, between him and Johanna on one side, and old Mags on the other.

Haymitch couldn't swim. He had never even tried, since there were no bodies of water in District 12. None that he could access, anyway. Katniss on the other hand had spent years escaping into the surrounding woodland. She could manage it. He wasn't sure he could make it to those stone paths, but he had to try. He had to reach Katniss and get to safety.

He tried to find Katniss, but he couldn't see her anywhere. She must be on the other side of the Cornucopia, so that's where he would head first. He also had to make sure she got the bow – that was her lifeline. Hopefully his allies wouldn't forget their promises the moment that gong went off, because he was relying on them to keep District 1 and 2 away from Katniss during this initial bloodbath.

It was sure to be a bloodbath. He couldn't trust Brutus, Enobaria or the siblings enough to ally with them, so they were determined to win in the traditional way. The siblings in particular would no doubt work as a team to make sure one of them could win.

He took a quick glance around the arena to try and work out where they should head first, and he realised it would have to be the jungle. They would be too easy to track on the beach, and the trees would hide them. The realisation tasted ashen in his mouth though, as he remembered the poisoned trees in his own Quell. Poisoned water. The deadly animals. Traps everywhere. He wasn't looking forward to heading into that jungle.

The gong went, but barely any tributes jumped into the water. Haymitch stared at it, wondering if there's some hidden danger in it. But he knew he couldn't stay here. Katniss would have moved immediately, and he pitched himself into the water.

It's worse than he imagined. He flailed his arms as the water buffeted him, torn between choking down and spewing up the salt water. Haymitch kicked furiously, trying to keep his head from submerging.

Through stinging eyes, he saw someone closing the distance with him. In this state, there was no way he could defend himself.

Only when they drew closer did he realise it was Mags.

She called to him, and Haymitch felt her tug at his belt, saying something insistently. He caught the word 'bob', and tried to focus on her.

Mags was smiling at him encouragingly. "Kick. Kick!"

She was paddling on the spot, completely unfazed by the water, and Haymitch struggled to match her movements, the way she seemed to sweep the water away with her arms, kicking rhythmically with her feet. He realised that the belt was keeping him afloat, all he had to do was force himself towards the land.

Mags kept level with him as he struggled to the strip of land, and Haymitch felt unbelievably grateful to the old woman. As they reached it, Katniss and Finnick arrived, already loaded up on weapons. He felt a surge of pride. The girl was the best tribute he'd ever had, by far.

Finnick scooped Mags out of the water first, and then reached down and hauled Haymitch out with Katniss' help.

"You didn't tell me he was our ally," she hissed, handing him a long knife and a spear.

"I thought the bracelet would make that clear."

"I thought he'd killed you and taken it from your body!" she replied. Haymitch winced. He hadn't factored in how suspicious she was.

As Finnick handed him the bracelet back, Mags informed them of the floatation belts, and they saw a couple of other tributes hesitantly jump into the water.

"We better move," Haymitch said, turning for the jungle.

"What about Wiress and Beetee?" Katniss demanded. She'd wanted them as allies, and he had plans for them, but he knew District 7 or Seeder would keep them safe until they were needed.

"We'll catch up with them later!" he said. When she gave him a puzzled look, he grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the jungle. "No time to argue, we have to go!"

He plunged into the jungle, Katniss quickly overtaking him, and even Finnick with Mags on his back. Haymitch was wheezing before long, but he forced himself onwards until they found somewhere safe enough.

...

After Katniss climbed a tree to scout the area, they kept walking, searching for water. There didn't seem to be any rivers or streams nearby. Not so much as a pond. The only liquid was the perspiration on their faces. They hadn't yet run into some horrible trap, but Haymitch wasn't feeling relaxed about that.

Anything could be lying in wait. He remembered some of the tributes from his Games drinking from poisoned streams, before bleeding out of every orifice.

He threw stones as he went, wary of stumbling onto the force field boundary. There was sure to be one, it's how they kept the tributes in, and they tended to unleash traps when one got too close to the edge, like the wildfire in Katniss' Game. They'd done that ever since Haymitch's Game, to stop them using it in the same way. They couldn't do that here though. The arena was too small, if Katniss's scouting information was anything to go by.

If they were going to escape, Haymitch would need to locate the boundary. He doubted he could do anything spectacular with it – that was what Beetee and Wiress were for – but he needed to know what their point of escape was.

He'd been dwelling on Darius' message – count. It could only be the count until their opportune moment to escape, when the contact could create the diversion for them to escape. But count what – hours, days? If the bread was their count, and they hadn't received any yet, then it must be that the contact hadn't been able to get everything in place yet. Haymitch hoped that nothing had gone wrong out there.

"What are you doing? We should be finding water," Katniss said unhappily. Dehydration made her cranky in the same way that withdrawal made Haymitch.

"Looking for the force field," he replied, equally sour. How was the barrier powered? Electricity, obviously, but was its powered sourced from the arena somehow? Or was there a conduit that received it? Would those be underground, or disguised as something else?

"Why didn't you tell me about Finnick?" she demanded. "Or let me get District 3."

"Because I have a plan," he said tetchily.

"And when were you intending to fill me in?"

"I wasn't," Haymitch said flatly.

She scowled at him. "You're not my mentor here, Haymitch, you're my partner. We're supposed to be working together, and I've had enough of your secrets."

He turned to her, incredulous. Wake up, sweetheart, he wanted to say, Have you forgotten where you are? Instead, he said, "Well that's too bad, but there's a reason no one ever tells you the plan – you always screw it up."

"Fine," she fumed. "Keep looking for your force field. I'm going to find us some food, so we don't go hungry as well as thirsty."

Katniss nocked an arrow to her bow and stalked off into the trees. He scowled as she left, since they would have to stop and set up camp. They couldn't take the risk of losing her in the dense jungle. Considering that he had prearranged to meet the other allies at the Cornucopia on the second day, they couldn't afford to waste time in the jungle for too long. They just needed to be here long enough to find water and check the force field's location.

While Finnick and Mags showed off their prowess at weaving a shelter and mats, Haymitch continued to search for the force field. His arm was feeling tired now, and his head was pounding. He threw a nut into the foliage with particular viciousness, when Katniss appeared silently nearby, a questioning look on her face.

"What did the nut do to you?" she asked.

He ignored that. "Where's the food then?"

Katniss held up a rat-shaped animal. He nodded sullenly, wishing it were a skin of wine instead. The inside of his mouth felt like sandpaper, and he wasn't hungry anyway. Even the thought of eating made the bile rise in his throat.

"I'm going to keep looking for the force field," he said. "You can head back to the others."

She didn't move.

"What?" he asked.

"Haymitch, you didn't even realise I was here until I was practically on top of you. Anyone could sneak up on you out here."

He looked at her, dumbfounded. "So you're planning on babysitting me."

She gave him a slightly smug smile. "You're the one throwing things in a toddler tantrum."

"Well, I feel so touched to have you looking out for my poor old self. Now, if you could shoot me down a drink, I'd feel really appreciative."

Haymitch turned back to throwing things into the forest, pausing for a reaction. He'd gone twenty or so more steps, when his nut hit the force field, sending a slight ripple of light out. This was it, the thing they had to destroy to get out of the arena.

"Happy now?" Katniss asked. She was staring at the barrier with the same kind of curiosity he felt. Maybe she was wondering how it worked. He hoped she wasn't considering using it in the same way he had in his first Games. They needed to make sure the gamemakers didn't suspect.

"Sure," he replied. "Now we know where the boundary is, we can figure how big this place is – since the Cornucopia's at the dead centre – and make sure no one walks into it by accident. Plus–" he filched the dead rat from her belt and flung it at the force field "– I've figured out how we're going to cook dinner."

...

That evening, they feasted on some of Katniss' freshly-caught rat, specially fried by Haymitch on the force field. He'd had to force it down his own throat. They'd all gotten exited when she'd told them about it's wet snout indicating water, but since they hadn't found any, the excitement had worn off a bit. Instead they were looking ahead of a night of dehydration. Since for Haymitch that would be coupled with lack of sleep, shivering and nausea, he wasn't looking forward to it.

Lights suddenly lit up the sky, and Haymitch stopped eating his meat, remembering the images of the deceased that ended each day. There would be many today, since it was the first night. Despite their show of solidarity last night, plenty of tributes had been killed. So many people who thought they'd be able to live out the rest of their lives, the true nightmare over. A mixture of anger and depression rode through him, and he eyed the sky sullenly.

The faces of several friends greeted him, Seeder among them. Haymitch felt his heart sink at the thought of that good woman dead in the senseless slaughter. He was glad that Chaff had made it out alive, but without Seeder to guide him, would he join the alliance, or try and stick it out on his own? Would he be forced to kill the man himself?

A warm hand squeezing his pulled Haymitch out of his dark thoughts. He was surprised to see Katniss watching him with a unusually tender expression.

"I know it can't be easy seeing your friends' faces up there."

"I knew it was going to happen," he said heavily. "It's no surprise."

At least he could comfort himself with the fact that District 3 and 7 were all alive. Hopefully they had teamed up and were still planning on meeting him tomorrow.

As they finished up their meal, Katniss gave a soft exclamation. The others looked over in time to see a silver parachute land next to her. She immediately unwrapped it, producing a small metal object. They stared at in puzzlement for a while, trying to work it out, until Katniss realised it was a spile. She pushed herself to her feet, and headed for the nearest tree. She pushed the spile in, and after a few moments, clear liquid started to pour out.

Mags began to gather it in a bowl, but Haymitch grabbed it before she could try any. "What if it's poisonous?" he asked.

"Are you suggesting we ignore the water pouring out of the tree and just die of thirst?" Finnick asked.

"No," Haymitch said in resignation, and watched apprehensively as Mags gulped down some water. She passed it to Finnick with a big smile on her face, and Haymitch reluctantly took some water from the spile himself. He had to admit, after a day in that humid stew, it tasted delicious and invigorating. Who could blame him for being cautious though? The plants and water had killed half the tributes in his Quell.

"We should get some rest, set off early in the morning," Finnick said, glancing at Haymitch. He was as keen to meet up with the others as the older man was. Besides, sitting in this too-bright night-time was making them nervous. All except for Haymitch. He actually preferred a night time where he could see easily. "Who's taking first watch?"

"I might as well," Haymitch offered. "Not like I'm going to be getting much sleep anyway."

A couple of hours in, Haymitch didn't feel any more tired really, but he did feel weary. It was the sort of exhaustion that came from emotional and physical stress – and probably the lack of drink – and he supposed he should perhaps try and get some rest. He didn't bother waking Finnick though. He knew he would never sleep, not at night, so he let the younger man rest.

Katniss was struggling in her sleep, thrashing as though she was trying to fight off some unseen attacker. Those dreams seemed too familiar to Haymitch.

An interminable amount of time later, a gong started to toll. Not one that heralded a death, but something else entirely. Haymitch remembered Darius' message: count. He had thought it meant bread, but perhaps not? He counted the gongs right up to twelve, frowning. Nothing seemed to happen once they had finished, no announcements.

He jumped as lighting struck a tree on the other side of the arena, and he saw Katniss' staring face lit up in the woven shelter. "Can you not do that?" he snapped.

"What were those gongs?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. Aside from lightning striking the tree, nothing happened after the twelfth gong." He gave an involuntary shudder that was out of place in the humid environment, and Katniss eyed him.

"You should get some sleep while you can," she suggested. "We don't know how long we'll have during the day. I can take over for a while."

"Sure, I'll just curl up with old pointy here," he said, waving his knife. "And you wake me up when it's daylight. No problem."

Katniss gave him a flat look. She knew it was mostly the withdrawal making him so crabby, but neither of them were exactly tolerable people.

"Just go to sleep, Katniss. We both know there's no point me trying."

She nodded reluctantly, lying back down. Both of them knew he wasn't going to be sleeping tonight. Haymitch spent the next part of the evening watching his hands tremble and trying to ignore how sick he felt. Maybe some water would help. He glanced up to decide which tree to tap, when he saw the mist.

It was moving, but not with a rolling front, like normal mist. Instead tendrils reached out, as though feeling for victims. Even if it hadn't been behaving strangely or looked so dense, Haymitch wouldn't trust anything 'natural' he saw in the arena. He just cursed himself for not paying better attention.

"Wake up!" he barked at the others. "Get up, we have to get away from this mist!"

Finnick was up in a shot, grabbing Mags and hauling her onto his back. Katniss was awake immediately too, tearing down the hill after Finnick. Haymitch, despite the fact he was the one who raised the alarm, was lagging behind.

The younger man was surprisingly quick for someone carrying another person, and he kept slowing to shout at them to hurry.

Haymitch ran, though his every move felt sluggish compared to Finnick and Katniss, and his chest heaved with the effort.

If only he could stop damn trembling.

Katniss was crying out in pain as the mist ravaged her, and Haymitch pressed on, thundering through the undergrowth in an attempt to catch up to Finnick.

His legs were shaking now, and he stumbled into a tree. Katniss appeared out of nowhere like a vision, dragging him onward by the wrist. She was unsteady from pain, confusion and tiredness, but seemed to have more stamina right now than him.

It wasn't long before they were both gasping for air and tumbling through the jungle, and eventually they both fell into a heap with the mist still encroaching, its tendrils burning them. At that moment, Finnick reappeared, looking worried. "What's wrong?"

"Go," Haymitch wheezed. "I can't–"

"No!" Katniss shouted, but the mist was coming. He could see it reflected in her eyes.

Haymitch didn't even have to say a word, and Finnick dragged Katniss away. As they built up momentum, she was running for her life too now. The both of them were so swift without him holding them back.

He wasn't going to give in if he could help it though. Haymitch pushed himself back to his feet, muscles aching in protest, legs quaking, and set off at a run again. What had he been thinking, coming back here? He'd been thinking he could save Peeta. He'd been thinking of the fact that he didn't completely trust Finnick to carry out the rebellion's plans for Katniss. Haymitch was too cynical to trust anyone completely, he'd seen what the Games did to people's minds.

He could just about see the beach ahead, when his strength gave out, and he staggered to his knees. He could feel the mist drawing closer, and was certain he would die.

Finnick appeared, hauling him into a fireman's carry and limping towards the beach. It was only a few metres away, and they both collapsed there, not far from where Katniss lay at the water's edge, unable to go on.

Mags was not far from her, curled up on her side, either alive or dead. Haymitch hadn't heard a boom, but who could say whether one had gone?

They watched as the mist rolled up against an invisible barrier – a force field, here? Then it pulled back into the forest, as though it were a sentient being that was being called away.

None of them could move, and Haymitch felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. He heard a woman cry out in pain, and knew it was Katniss. He knew he needed to get up and help her, but he couldn't. He'd failed so many times already. He was physically a wreck. The only sleep he'd had all night would be in the form of unconsciousness.

Haymitch was startled out of his daze by white hot pain on his arm. For a second, he thought the mist had returned, and he flailed in shock and horror, until he heard Katniss saying, "Calm down, calm down! The water, it helps."

He looked at her blearily, noting that she seemed fine, other than the scabs on her skin from where the mist had ravaged her. They were particularly bad on her face, which had been exposed to the mist too directly. She didn't seem to be in pain anymore though, so Haymitch took her word on the water.

She delivered shells full of water to him, encouraging him to remove his suit as she had done to make sure he got all of the burns. Once he was somewhat recovered, they worked together to bring Mags and Finnick the same relief. The old woman had been particularly ravaged, and he wasn't sure whether it was due to age or because she had been acting as a barrier between Finnick's back and the mist. She floated in the water, seeming peaceful, but looking like hell.

"Why would you save my life, Finnick?" Katniss murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

"Let's rest up," Haymitch suggested, though he knew he wasn't going to get any sleep with that ripe moon still in the sky. If the arena itself didn't kill him, he wouldn't be surprised if exhaustion did.