Sixty Seven Chapter 2: Part II, a hunger games fanfic

Sixty Seven

Part II

The Cornucopia/ Your First Killing in the Arena

Claudius Templesmith's voice washes over me like a warm wave, and almost instantly, my eyes get used to the harsh glare and I am able to look around the place that will become my prison for the next few weeks. Until I die, that is.

This arena is more normal looking than others I have seen televised. A wall of towering trees lies all about behind me and to the sides, the tips of the pines gradually descending into what looks like a wide valley. The trickle of water awakens my senses, and I see various streams flowing out from the woods and pooling into a small cave straight ahead of me, past the Cornucopia. The cave is a minuscule indentation compared to the gigantic rock face it is situated in, and my spine crawls to think of what horrors may lurk up those cliffs. Past the rock wall, I see the gentle splashing of waves, and standing on my tiptoes I can see the ocean in miniature, seemingly never ending. I'll admit, I'm impressed.

I can't swim, and neither can Royal, so right now I'm thinking our best chances of survival are in those woods. But the trees unnerve me; so still, so dark. I can hear no birdsong from their branches, and no other signs of life in their shadowed depths. I shiver.

Looking around for Royal now, I panic. I can't see him; until I realise that each District's tributes are directly opposite each other, which would only mean Royal is on the other side of the Cornucopia; the farthest tribute from the forest behind me. My heart contracts in fear, and I pray that the small boy is smart enough to go round the outskirts of the bloodbath and then make a dash for it, instead of running directly across. But a sense of foreboding creeps into my mind, and suddenly I highly doubt that Royal will be doing anything sensible whatsoever today.

My eyes find a familiar head of dark hair, and I spot Sienna Whishaw, five tributes along from me. She catches my eye, and I see the tell-tale glint of Victor-like determination in those snapping pupils. I look away.

I feel coiled up like a spring, a spring in one of those children's jack-in-the-boxes, which jumps forth which such fierceness it makes most kids cry. I tense as a loud shriek from the forest sounds behind me. The noise distracts many of the tributes, and so it is that when the gong sounds for the commencement of the Games, only half of us are off our plates immediately. Huh, I think. Idiots.

And then I am running, running towards the Cornucopia, where I see Sienna take a vicious slice at the boy from Nine. He crumples instantly. By now, the Careers have reached the golden horn also, and I am shocked to see them begin to fight amongst themselves. Other tributes have scattered throughout the open field, but my eyes are only looking out for a single person.

Damn it! Royal's at the Cornucopia, and is lifting a pack from the ground. "Run, damn it, run!" I scream, my throat hoarse from the effort it takes me to form those words. Royal glances up at me and our eyes connect for the slightest moment; until an axe buries itself into his back and he thuds to the ground.

"No!" I shriek. "No, no, no!" I'm still too far away from Royal to see him properly, but even from here I can tell he isn't moving. "No!" I look around the vicinity, searching…and my eyes find the boy from Seven, Sienna's District partner. And he is smiling at me.

I shout obscenity after obscenity at him, and he turns away, beginning to jog from the Cornucopia. He has no pursuers. Well, I think viciously. I can fix that!

I can barely see the other tributes now. My vision has misted over with anger, only focusing on the object of my rage. I race past Royal's prone form, and stumble slightly, turning away from his bloodied back. No, no, no, I think. He can't be dead, he can't… But I know, deep down, that Royal Springton will never make it home.

I'm ten metres from Seven, Alistair, now, and he hears my footsteps, smells my anger. He turns quickly, but not quickly enough, for the moment I see those mean, piggy eyes, something huge and terrifying consumes me. I cannot control what I am doing, and so it is with detached surprise and pleasure that I pick up a fallen dagger and throw it, watching its sink hilt deep into Alistair's heart. He looks down, astonished, but at that moment I reach him and push him to the ground. The beast roars with triumph inside of me, but simply killing Alistair isn't enough.

I wrench the knife from his chest, and then plunge it in again, and again, and again, creating a bloodied spider web across his black tribute jacket. I hear the oddest sound, until I realise that it is coming from me; I am laughing. And then it hits me. The beast within suddenly disappears like smoke, and I stare down at the blade dripping red in my hand. A sick feeling overwhelms me and I am about to throw the knife away when a small noise behind me alerts my senses and I turn, lashing out once more with the dagger. It catches the male from Six right in the throat, and he gurgles for a moment before he, too, drops to the ground, spread-eagled beside Alistair.

I stand and back away in horror. The sick feeling has crawled up from my heart and into my throat, and I double over, vomiting what remains of my last Capitol meal onto the trampled grass. I retch again, and then straighten, staggering away from the scene of battle. A ringing has begun in my ears, and it is just getting louder and louder as I survey the bodies before me.

A see a girl's head, separated from her body, but I look away too fast to recognise her. The sight of all the blood sickens me. A crawling on the back of my neck alerts me to a presence, and I turn, seeing a pair of snapping eyes, their owner hidden amongst the shadows of the trees.

Sienna.

She blinks at me, and I stare back, but before I can make any move towards her she turns and is lost in the darkened shrubbery. I look after her for a moment more, and then hear footsteps approaching behind me. Using my peripherals, I observe several of the surviving Careers sneaking up on me. I stifle a sob at the thought of Royal's body being in such grotesque hands as theirs, and I consider going down with a fight, before the image of a single person flashes in my mind's eye. Lucah.

He wouldn't want me to just throw my life away, even after Royal… I cut back a sob, clench my hands into fists, and then suddenly, inexplicably, break into a run, headed for the woods. I can hear the Careers behind me in pursuit, but not for nothing have I been dancing since I was three years old. I tear through the first layer of trees, branches snapping back and slicing across my cheeks and neck, leaving what I'm sure will eventually become scars.

But I don't stop running, not even when all sounds of pursuit have evaporated, because I know that if I stop, everything will come crashing down upon me and I will probably never stand up again.

And I'm running and running, and tears are pouring down my face, and I don't care that there's cameras watching me, that everybody at home will see just how broken I am, because now, in all honesty, I think it would have been for the best if I died in that bloodbath.

Because then the pain would be gone forever.

Surviving the Arena Part I

I stumble on a tree root as the first cannon fires, but I quickly regain my balance and keep running, counting the shots in the air as they sound. Three, four… I curse myself for not grabbing at least a backpack from the Cornucopia. Hadn't there been one right in front of my tribute plate? Seven, eight…

The cannons stop, and I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. All is quiet around me in the dense woodland. It feels almost too quiet… I wish I could make some noise, at least to convince myself that yes, I exist, but it's far too risky. If only Royal was here…

Royal.

The name crashes into me like a hammer blow, and suddenly my knees buckle, my legs refusing to run any further. I collapse onto the ground, my fingers digging through the leaf litter into the hard-packed earth beneath. An escaped tear slides down my cheek, and I wipe it away angrily, probably leaving a great big streak of mud. Good, I think savagely. Because I don't want to be recognisable, I don't want to be me, I don't want to be human…because being human means you can feel the pain, and I don't want to feel it ever again. No, no, no…

My human heart thuds against my ribcage, causing me to cry out softly. How could I ever think I could have kept Royal safe? In what planet was I on to believe he would be able to win these Games? My hands curl into fists, dragging dirt and mud and leaves along with them.

I lean my head against a tree, giving in to the prickling sensation behind my eyes. The tears flow out, then, tickling my cheeks as they make their way into my lap, pooling gently before soaking into the fabric of my white trousers, which are already nice and brown. Another cannon shot stirs birds in the distance, a sound reminiscent to early morning back at home, when I would curse and shriek at the wildlife for waking me up so early.

I jolt awake from my daze as the sound rings through my ears. Another tribute dead, and it sounded close…Careers? I tilt my head slightly, my ears desperately trying to find some source of sound, but all is still and quiet around me. I want to scream, just to shake things up a little, but I know I cannot.

Through a gap in the canopy above me, I spot a Capitol hovercraft coming my way. I jerk backwards in fear, but it pauses quite a way from me, lowering down a claw to retrieve what I know is a body. I stare at it, hard, until the claw retracts. I see a dark shape between those metal talons, silhouetted by the sun. I strain my eyes, and could have sworn I see the drip, drip, drip of water – or is it blood? – from the victim's body. I shiver. My legs have gone numb.

Pictures flash in my mind's eye, over and over again – Royal's broken and bloodied form lying on the dewy grass, his dark hair flopping down to hide his face; Alistair's spider web of blood, a flourishing tattoo across his chest; Sienna crouching in the bushes, watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike…

It seems like an eternity before the feeling returns to my limbs. It takes me a moment to realise that my legs can move again; they are shaking badly, but I hesitantly stretch them and discover that the pain actually isn't too bad. Nothing compared to the pain of death, to the sensation of having a blade plunged again and again into your heart that no longer beats…

No, stop, stop! Just stop. Just pretend, for now, that all the blood – the death – never, ever happened, and Royal is only waiting for you by the river, the river which you can hear flowing gently behind you…

The river! My eyes snap open – I didn't even register them closing – and I stand up so quickly the world fades to black for a moment or two before coming back into focus. Up until this moment I hadn't realised just how thirsty I am; just how dry and crackly my throat feels.

Surveying my resting area, I realise how conspicuous it is, how easily one may tell that I have been sheltering here. I take great pains to disguise it from prying (murderous!) eyes. I scatter leaf litter over the small indentations I left on the ground, and I carefully dust away any footprints left by my heavy Capitol boots. I realise now that I have been reckless; for though I was silent in my progress from the Cornucopia, my tread still left marks in the grass and the branches I ran through are almost all broken and pointing my way. Damn…

But remember, a small voice pipes up inside of me, you were far too grief stricken to worry about any pursuers, and besides, if they had followed you, you would have just killed them; a knife in the back, perhaps, or an axe through the skull…

And suddenly an image comes to me, unbidden, an image I had forced myself to forget a long time ago. Another field. Another Cornucopia. Another Games… Xavier lying face down in a pool of blood, blood that is slowly dripping from the wound in his head, blood that is seeping out from beneath the embedded axe like a leak in a kettle…

No, stop!

I press my hands up against my face, digging my fingers into my eyes, trying to force the memory to disappear. And it does, only to be replaced by something else…

Lucah's smiling face, the way that one stray curl stuck out from the rest, the feel of his bare chest against my splayed palms, wet with bathwater, as we laughed and splashed together.

A sense of calm washes over me, and slowly, so slowly; I uncover my face and take a deep breath. Lucah.

I smile, straighten the shoulder of my jacket, and plunge into the woods, following the sound of the rushing river that reminds me of water swirling down a drain once the plug is pulled, swirling down and down with a great roar into the dark abyss.

The moment I reach the river, I know something is up. A smell of wrongness exudes from the water, and the liquid itself is black as pitch. I kneel down slowly, hesitantly, and examine the water more closely. No fish swim in it; no river weeds waft gently in its current. Yes, it's poisoned alright.

I recall that last death, the body dripping with – with something. River water, perhaps? Because this water does indeed look bad enough to kill. I shudder, thinking how lucky I am to have recognised the poison before taking a sip.

But this leaves me with a problem; my thirst. If I cannot drink from the river, then where can I? I puzzle the question for a moment. Of course there was that small ocean next to those cliffs by the Cornucopia, I muse. That water could indeed be fresh and fine to drink…but surely there would be something more than just that?

My gaze falls up the ground, which is mud beneath my boots. Mud…

I dig my hands into the dirt, scooping away the soggy brown stuff, feeling it becoming wetter and wetter. Yes! A small puddle of water bubbles up in the hole I have dug; I delve deeper, and soon have a dinner plate sized amount of liquid. It is brown, yes, and riddled with dirt, but when I taste it, it is sweeter than anything else I can remember.

Stupid, stupid Eulalie, I chide myself. Because I have no pack, I have no flask for the water, and no food, no blankets, no weapons… Weapons, no. I wouldn't want them anyway.

I glance around, taking in the dense undergrowth surrounding me. A smile forms on my lips; I recognise many of the floras here from the hour or so I spent at the edible plants station in the training centre. This'll only be too easy.

Gathering various berries and fungi and leaves, I remove my jacket – the heat is getting to me anyway – and wrap up my findings in the fabric. Securing the bundle with the sleeves of the jumper, I head onwards, ever, ever onwards.

Night falls quickly in the arena. It seems that only moments ago I was trudging along a dappled sunlight path in the forest, whereas now I am struggling to see even my hands when they are right in front of my face.

I walk headlong into a tree. Cursing softly, I listen around for any other signs of life. I can't hear a thing. I carefully sit down, positioning myself in the great roots of the tree until I'm comfortable. The air has definitely dropped in temperature, and I shiver. The Capitol emblem suddenly flashes up in the night sky, proving me with enough light to empty the contents of my jacket-turned-rucksack onto the ground and wrap myself up in it.

The anthem is playing now, and I make sure I don't move a muscle throughout. These people deserve no acknowledgement, no respect from me, from anyone.

The anthem ends, and the logo is replaced by Royal's unsmiling face, his eyes dark and wary, far too watchful for someone so young. But he'll never grow up, grow into them… I don't fight the tears that start to silently stream from my eyes. Oh, how I wish my heart could be made of metal, or that I could have none at all, because it hurts, it just hurts so, so much.

Royal's face is replaced by the smouldering beauty of the female from Four. I fish around for her name…Coral. Yes, that's it. Coral and Ryan from Four. I watch the sky for more announcements of death. I counted nine cannons throughout the day, but I could have been wrong.

The males from Six and Seven – that's Michael and Alistair, I think absently, and I felt their blood on my hands, for surely Six was the boy I stabbed through the throat – follow. Then the girl from Eight, the girl from Eleven and both tributes from Twelve. I feel a stab of pity in my gut as I look up at those faces, those faces of the dead, even when Alistair's flashes brightly. Yes, he killed Royal…but it was only for the Games, it was all part of the Games… I'll kill the Capitol, I think blindly, rage consuming me. I'll kill them all where they sleep, and then see just how entertaining they find that…

Sleep claims me before I can think of anything more, dragging me into the great chasm of nightmares and screams and grief and death. But somehow, it is better than being awake, here in the arena. Far better.

Surviving the Arena Part II

I'm awoken the next day by the sound of the cannon.

I open my eyes and stretch out my legs, uncomfortable and cramped. I sit up slowly, my back cracking slightly, and realise I have spent the entire night curled up between two great roots of an oak tree, cradled by the leaf litter. I stand, vigorously rubbing the numbness from my legs. Glancing around, I can't shake the feeling that the tribute who died mere moments ago was somewhere very close…

I survey the area around me and pick up the pointiest, most portable stick I can find. I prick it into my finger, to test it, and it immediately draws blood. The sight of that dripping redness sickens me, and I quickly wipe it against my pants. I thrust the stick into my belt and shrug on my jacket, which I used last night as a pillow. Quickly eradicating any signs of my sleeping here, I set off.

I'm not really sure where I'm headed. I vaguely remember a replay I watched of the second Quarter Quell, where the Victor had said to his ally that the arena must end somewhere. I suppose he must've been right, but I don't voice that opinion out loud, seeing as though I also remember each and every one of his family members were murdered. My thoughts flick to Sean…no, it's best not to stir up the Capitol now, somewhere so public and exposed. Best to wait until we can attack them from within.

The chopping sound of a hovercraft's blades sounds throughout the morning, and I freeze. Crouching down behind a dense bush, I watch the aircraft zooming towards me. I hold my breath, and it stops barely one hundred metres from where I am. My apprehension builds. A claw reaches down into the trees, and then retracts – carrying a body. My insides freeze. If that's where the tribute died…I would have been barely ten metres away from them!

I fill my cheeks with the warm air and then puff it back out again. Someone killed that tribute…someone who's probably stalking me now.

I stand quickly, and remove the stick from my belt, opting to have it out in the open. I take another deep breath, steel myself, then set off again, making sure to tread as quietly as I can and disturb as little of the nature around me as possible.

After about an hour, or so it seems to me, I realise that I cannot continue any longer; I need something to eat, and fast. I glance around my surroundings. The woods here are different to what they were when I first entered them; denser, darker, spookier. I find I don't mind one bit.

I size up the tree closest to me. I don't recognise its species, but it has branches low to the ground that continue up high, and that look easy to climb. I grab some berries I recognise from my course in the training centre, along with some reddish leaves and bark off a skinny bush that I vaguely remember. Hopefully none of it's poisonous.

I return to the tree, stuff the food inside my pockets, and grasp the branch lowest to the ground. Close as it is, it is still a good half head taller than I am. I take a deep breath, brace one of my legs against the trunk, and attempt to haul myself up.

After an exhausting ten minutes or so, I have succeeded in climbing onto the third branch from the ground, but anything more defeats me. I blow out what breath I have left in me and suck in some more. If I pull the branches out over me, I may be hidden from anyone standing below…

I lean forwards, reaching for a bunch of leaves that are just in front of me…and I slip and fall, my balance failing. I let out a small yelp, then immediately clap a hand over my mouth. And that does it. I stumble from the third branch, bounce down to the second, then thud straight to the ground. I swear quietly, my arm and spine both on fire.

I glance down at the former, and almost throw up. The branch I had found earlier to use in self defence…it has impaled my arm, jabbing right through the skin, muscle and tissue and coming out the other side. I stifle a scream, then brace myself and grasp the end of the stick, shifting it slightly. Immediately, intense pain racks up my arm, and my spine arcs, making the pain there even worse. I can't even think about what's wrong there. I bite my lips, drawing blood, but don't lessen the pressure. I breathe heavily out through my nose, nostrils flaring, and then – I pull out the stick in one swift movement.

This time, I shriek, unable to contain myself. I can only hope the other tributes take it for a large bird dying from suffocation, or something like that. I register that my eyes are closed. I open them slightly, just a tiny slit, and almost faint. The wound in my arm is a gaping hole; I can see the ground through it. This time I do throw up, retching quietly, but there is nothing in my stomach to bring up, so blood decides to come out instead. I grimace and wipe my hand (on my good arm) over my mouth. I gently pull off my jacket, but even that small movement spikes the pain in my spine and arm. I pause, bracing myself, and then rip the jacket off, throwing it to the ground beside me. I half-smile.

The lining of the jacket is soft and white, designed to keep its wearer warm during the winter. There is a small hole in it; from what, I can't imagine. I wedge my index finger through it, making it big enough for my mouth, and then sink my teeth into the fabric, ripping across it. It tears loudly, and I freeze, then decide, what the hell! I rip it the rest of the way, and am about to wrap it around the freaking hole in my arm when a thought occurs to me. How many times had I seen someone die from an infected wound? The answer was, not many, but I knew enough about it to know I should be wary.

I dig my good arm into the dirt beside me and scrape back the dirt until the sweet smell of earthy water reaches my nostrils. I don't pause to think about whether or not it is sanitary or not; I just reach in and splash it over my wound.

Oh, shoot, it burns!

I grit my teeth, and then awkwardly tie the white strip of fabric over the searing wound. I let out a small whimper, watching the blood stain the makeshift bandage red. I wrap it around as many times as I can, then tie a triple knot at the end and let my arm flop down to the ground.

The pain in my spine is now quite overpowering. I gingerly reach my good hand behind, slip it under my shirt…and feel something wet and sticky. Blood. Shit.

I take a deep breath, probably my billionth today, and remove my hand, pressing the fabric of my shirt down against the wetness. It hurts, oh, crap, it hurts, but when I get used to the sharp, stabbing pain, I realise the pressure has actually lessened the pain somewhat. I feel an odd urge to let out a deranged laugh.

I brace my good arm against the trunk of that bloody tree and using it, I can push myself upwards and onto my feet. The pain from both my arm and spine is now only a dull, but incessant, ache. I ignore it, picking up my discarded jacket and wrapping it around my waist. I contemplate choosing another stick for a weapon but decide against it. I don't need a repeat of what just happened.

I sniff deeply and, once again, begin walking. It only occurs to me that I am still hungry at least an hour later; after all, that was what started it all. I reach into my pockets and pull out the now crushed berries. Not caring, I stuff them into my mouth, following them with some disgusting chewy leaves and crunchy bark. I swallow it all and almost bring it back up, but force my stomach to stay settled. I kneel and dig until I find some water again, then sip from it until I am satisfied. I fill the hole back up and continue on, my arm throbbing by my side.

The sky darkens quickly, but I am unsure whether it is actually caused by the time of day or just my slowly decaying vision. The dull ache in my spine and arm that seemed so manageable scant hours ago is now impossible to ignore; it fills my veins, my blood, my limbs, pulsing incessantly and working like poison. I don't even notice my hunger anymore; it is quite overpowered by the pain. When I can no longer see the path beneath my feet, I know it is time to stop; my legs refuse to cooperate in the way I want them to. They stay stiff and rigid, and at the precise moment I am bending down to smack some sense into them, they give, my knees wobbling like jelly and crashing me to the ground. I land on my spine, and I scream.

Oh, God, how I scream.

It takes me a long moment to get my jaw muscles working and to shut my damn mouth. I can feel tears running down my cheeks as the suppressed shriek builds up inside me, but I don't care. I bite the insides of my cheeks, tasting the metallic tang of blood, a metaphor for the degrading steel and resolve within me.

I can't win these Games. Was I so mad to even consider such a possibility? Was I so deluded as to think I'd see my family again – my father, Sean, Lucah…?

Lucah. Oh, God.

This time, I have to bring my good hand up to my mouth to cover up the horror and pain I feel inside. My bandaged arm lays skewed at an awkward angle on the ground, shooting spikes of thathurts-thathurts-ohGodthathurts into my body, my brain, my heart, but the grief within me gives me the strength to ignore it.

I curl up into a ball, on the ground right out in the open, and cry. Silent tears stream down my face, clogging up my nose and closing my throat, but still I cry. And when it is impossible to breathe, when the gulp of air I try to take cannot make its way into my lungs, for one wild moment I am tempted. Oh, I am sorely tempted to just end it all here. Me, alone, my arm beginning to fall off, my back sticky with blood; I am tempted to just stop breathing for a few moments longer, to see my last sight of this world…

But I cannot.

I sit up abruptly, and my throat opens again, my mouth jerking awake from its slumber and sucking in huge amounts of oxygen. The tears have reduced me to hiccups, and I slowly cough and splutter my way into some form of sanity. At least, that's what I tell myself – until I see the flash of snapping brown pupils in the leaves to my left.

I stand up so quickly the world spins. Someone is here, watching me…and I think I might just know who.

I walk on for a little while, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder every few seconds. If I'm right, if it is her following me…I don't want to scare her away.

Once I've found a nice little clearing hidden behind copses of shrubbery, I relax, carefully lowering myself to the ground. I highly doubt anyone but she will be able to find me here… Just as that thought crosses my mind, I catch another flash in the darkness, this time a pale face with a firm mouth framed by wild brown waves. I suppress a smile, suddenly happy, though the pain has become no less.

I glance around me, shuffling my way across the clearing, ripping leaves off some bushes as I go. I recognise them all; hoop-berry foliage disguised as brambles, red-oak bark, honeysuckle flowers. I have gathered quite a feast by the time I come full circle in my little clearing; I relax again, wary of my arm and spine, and arrange myself until I've achieved some form of comfort. I then spread out the food on the ground and divide everything evenly, until I have two perfect servings. I push one of them an arm's length away from me, then relax back into my sitting position and begin to devour the other. I don't take my eyes off the wildlife in my hands – I don't want to convince her to join me. I want her to choose that for herself.

When I am half-done with my meal, I turn my head to the tree beside me. "I haven't poisoned it, you know," I say conversationally to the pine. Thankfully, it doesn't respond. I pause for a long moment, then shrug, turning back to my meal. The moment I take my eyes off the tree, however, something drops to the ground beside me with a soft thunk. I tilt my head slightly to the left, and see her crouched in a defensive position, watching me carefully. I smile nonchalantly at her, and she stands, walking over to sit opposite me.

Sienna.

She dumps her three – three? – packs to the ground and sits down cross-legged with an ease I envy in my weakened state. She glances down at the meal, but doesn't touch it. Instead, she speaks. "If you don't treat that arm, it'll fall right off."

I search her face to see if she's joking, but she looks dead serious. I clear my throat. "Well, in case you hadn't noticed, I didn't come prepared…unlike some people." My gaze lingers on the bags beside her. She doesn't react to my jibe, only saying, "I have bandages to fix it, you know."

"Well, that's great, but of course you wouldn't want to waste them on little ol' me, would you?" She doesn't smile. I plaster on my martyr expression, thrusting out my arm. "Well, if you must," I sigh dramatically. Still she doesn't smile, just unzips the pack closest to her, removing a roll of white gauze, and then proceeds to rip my makeshift bandage off me – along with a chorus of ohcrap-ohcrap-ohGodyoubitch – and rewrap her own around the gaping wound perfectly. She finishes by typing the stuff in a triple knot, and I marvel at the way pressure on the pain makes it hurt far less. She twirls her finger in the air, and I understand; I spin around on the ground so my back is facing her. She mercilessly lifts up my shirt, ripping away the dried blood from my back and probably some skin as well. I bite my lip to stop myself from going mental.

She wipes the blood down with a damp cloth – damp with what, I don't know, and don't really want to ask – and then wraps another bandage around my middle; the wound must be worse than I thought. She drops my shirt down, then, and I turn back around to face her.

Her food is still untouched, and I roll my eyes.

"You know I haven't spiked it, Sienna." My voice is croaky. "You saw me, I know you did." She meets my gaze for a second, and then drops hers. I'm surprised, but make no comment. Her fingers reach out to the food, and in the blink of an eye she is wolfing it down. It takes only seconds for her to finish. I stare, and she shrugs, then stands.

I frown after her. "Thank you," she says softly, looking anywhere but my face. She picks up her packs, then turns and begins to walk away, and suddenly I know what she's doing. I stand, trip, then stand again, jogging after her. She continues for a minute or two, then stops and swivels so abruptly I bash right into her chest and bounce off. I swear.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"What do you think?" That I was some kind of rapist out to get her? She doesn't answer, and I sigh. "We're allies, you fool!"

"What?"

"At least, we're about to be." She stares at me like I'm some sort of freak. Which, I suppose, I am.

"No way," she says so forcefully I almost believe her. But then I remember just who's daughter I am.

"Excuse me," I say loudly, standing on my tiptoes to meet her eyes. "We can be allies, and we will be, Sienna Whishaw. And don't you go saying anything otherwise, or I might just have to kill you." I'm joking, of course, but then I remember than Sienna is not a humorous person; but it seems that this time, a miracle has occurred. She understands!

"Fine," she says, and the way she spits the word out, the way she screws up her face, gives me the impression of poison emptying her veins. "Fine. But you slow me down, Eulalie, and I will leave you."

"But weren't you following me anyway?" She has no answer to that, instead huffing and puffing and then spinning on her heel to continue on. I follow two steps behind, unable to keep that stupid grin off my face, because even though we're in the Games, even though only one of us can win…I rather think I've made a new friend.

And a ninja-scary-killing-machine one at that.

Surviving the Arena Part III

We walk for a long, long time, even though it was growing dark when we had set out in the first place. The anthem has come and gone, with only the face of the male tribute from Eleven illuminating the sky. By the time Sienna finally calls it a night, I can't even see my hand when it is an inch away from my face. I've had to rely on my ears for most of the trek, a fact which Sienna seems to have ignored. But I brush that thought aside, for after all, she didn't particularly want my company in the first place.

"See that tree?" Sienna says at last. At least, I hope it's Sienna and not just some disembodied voice conjured up by my disjointed, tired mind.

"Ah, let me think…no."

"No?"

"No, of course I can't see that ruddy tree. I can't even see you!"

There's silence for a long moment after I speak, and then I hear the zip and buckle of a pack being opened. I tense. "Sienna?" I whisper, but that's as far as I go in my enquiry, as just then a hand loops over my mouth, while another forces something uncomfortable over my eyes. I shut them instinctively, and squirm in the mystery grasp, when an exasperated hissing sound alerts me to the fact that no, it isn't a random tribute groping me from behind, but yes, it is in fact Sienna and she's rather annoyed.

I stop wriggling at once, and open my eyes, expecting to see nothing…but instead, being able to examine the space around me in perfect detail, albeit bathed in a strange greenish glow. I swivel my head slightly, and spot Sienna smiling bemusedly. As soon as she registers me watching her, however, the grin slips and she turns away. So much for friendship, I grumble silently.

"Right, now I see the tree," I say, unable to comprehend how I could've missed this monster of a thing standing all of two feet from me.

"Good," Sienna says, turning to face me again. "Come over here and I'll give you a boost up."

I stare at her incredulously. "You've got to be joking. Climbing up a tree is how I got this effing big hole in my arm." I wave the offending wound in front of her face for good measure. Sienna doesn't even blink.

"I'll help you up this time," she says. "And…I'll strap you in." She removes the belt from her pale trousers – how on earth she's managed to keep them still looking pale, I'll never know – and shows it to me. "It should hold you in place for the night."

"Should?"

She gives a shrug. "These are the Games, Eulalie. Do you want to sleep on the ground and get slaughtered by Careers while I watch you from above?" I shake my head mutely. "Good. Then come over here, and I'll give you a boost."

I walk tentatively over, and Sienna braces herself against the tree trunk. "Come on then," she says, and I step onto her interlocked hands. Her lips firm into a thin line, but she says nothing. I haul myself up into the precarious position. "Ready?" Sienna grates out, and I nod. She carefully lowers me slightly, then pushes up with all the force she's got, sending me headfirst into the branch above. Luckily, my good arm has the sense to wrap around the branch, and I haul myself quickly up, ignoring the splices of wood currently delving themselves into my palms.

"Do you need a hand, or…?" I never finish my sentence, because Sienna takes several steps backwards then takes a flying leap at the tree, catching easily onto the branch I so painstakingly climbed over, and swinging herself on top with the ease of someone who's been doing it their entire life. Hmm…District Seven, I think. Lumber. Wood. Trees. Duh.

We continue on like this for at least five of six more branches, until we're high enough that I cannot bear to look down. I cling to the trunk, ashamed to feel terrified tears leak their way out of my closed eyes. I blink them away and sniff deeply, slowly relinquishing my death-grip on the tree. Sienna gestures for me to sit and get comfortable, and once I do, she leans over, deftly winding the belt around my upper thighs and the branch I'm sitting on. I close my eyes again; frightened that she'll fall and will become Sienna Shish-Kebob Whishaw, but then I hear the crisp sound of a buckle and the slight shuffling of her jacket against her shirt as she sits back down. I crack open an eyelid, pleased to see my companion hasn't turned into a pancake. She sees me watching her. "One of us could take watch, but I really doubt anyone will have come as far as us yet, and besides, we're invisible from the ground, so…good night, Lillie." She swivels slightly in her position so that all I can see of her face is her stark white cheekbone. I feel rather deflated, but I'm not sure why; after all, I seriously couldn't have been expecting slumber party secrets being shared, could I?

With one last look at her, I carefully remove the glasses from my face, and stuff them down my shirt. There's nowhere else to put them that I can see, as there is really nothing I can see anyway. I jiggle the glasses around until they no longer poke into my rib cage, and then I close my eyes for the last time and will myself to sleep.

Strangely, it works, and within moments I've succumbed to the slumber Siren's sometimes deadly song.

As soon as my eyes open, I know something's wrong.

It may be to do with the fact that there is a burning pain all the way around my midriff, as if an iron band has wound itself around and around my stomach. It may also be due to the fact that, in the pale morning light, I cannot see Sienna anywhere.

But I think the main reason is the fact that I'm hanging upside down.

I stifle a scream as I come to realise that with a jolt. The ache around my stomach is because of the belt that was to hold me in place last night. Ha! Fat lot of good that bloody did.

My limbs and hair are hanging straight down, and I try to give them a little wriggle to see how much movement I have sustained. Zilch.

"Sienna," I whisper, my heart thumping in my chest. "Psst. Sienna?"

I hear a muffled sound, as if someone has spoken through a mouth full of cotton, and then a dark head pops down beside mine. Even the wrong way up, I can tell she's trying not to smile. I frown. "Get me out of here, before this friggin' belt of yours cuts me clean in half!"

I see Sienna reach down out of the corner of my eye and grab my arms, swinging them until she slowly inches me back the right way up. I'm now sitting on the branch I was hanging from moments before. Sienna quickly unbuckles the belt that's been digging into my skin for goodness knows how long, then refastens it around her own waist. She stands up easily on the branch, not holding onto anything for support, looking for all the world as if that is where she belongs. She looks down at me expectantly. In response, I swivel and wrap my arms around the trunk of the tree. No way in hell am I letting go!

I hear Sienna sigh, and then a strong arm encircles me and drags me to my feet. I close my eyes. Sienna sighs again. "Look, do you want to fall and die?" I shake my head, wait for a long moment, then open my eyes the smallest crack. I can sense Sienna's smile, and together we wind our way back down the branches towards the ground. I don't speak until my feet are firmly planted in the soft dirt and dry grass. Only then do I release the breath I never realised I'd been holding.

Sienna gives her shoulders a roll, dumping the three packs she carried down onto the ground. "Breakfast," she says. I look around carefully, spotting various edible substances. I hobble over to a hoop-berry bush (my legs still asleep from their sojourn upside-down) and strip the branches of their leaves, bringing them back over to Sienna. In the meantime, she's raided the wildlife around us too, and we've amassed quite a feast. We sit down, and begin to pick at the meal.

I'm crunching on some roots, trying to take my mind of the strange feeling of wind whistling through the great ruddy hole in my arm, when my eyes are inexplicably drawn to the three packs strewn haphazardly across the ground. I pause mid-chew. "What's in these?" I say, pointing to the closest bag. Sienna looks over her shoulder.

"Oh, them. A few weapons, some rope, you know, the usual…" She swallows her mouthful of food. "This one, though," she says, kicking the bag closest to me, "this one's absolutely useless. Nothing but a bunch of wires."

My ears perk up at her words. Wires? I repeat the question out loud, and she nods, looking confused at the ecstatic smile I can feel spreading across my face. I scramble forward, crushing half the berries Sienna gathered, and snatch the pack into my arms. I unzip it slowly, not even daring to hope… But when I do get it open, I can't resist the urge to laugh and a small giggle escapes my lips.

Cables, wires, fuses, batteries, switches…you name it! The pack's got everything. I wrench my eyes away from this wonderland of technology and look up at Sienna. "This is totally brilliant," I grin. "You've no idea what I can do with these…we'll win the Games in a matter of days!" Another laugh bubbles to the surface, but this time I suppress it, ending up snorting profusely. But I don't care, because with this pack on my back, I feel like I can conquer the world.

We're walking. Again.

It's about midday, by my reckoning, though I wouldn't trust the thought in the slightest, seeing as though only the smallest part of the sunshine is filtering through the canopy of leaves above us, and I'm not particularly known for my orientation skills.

Sienna's ahead of me, never relenting in her pace even though she's got two packs strapped to her back. I'm only carrying one, and I'm sweating like a bloody icicle in the summer.

I think she's surprised by how silently I can move. I suppose she expected me to be some sort of giant klutz, and in a way I am, but not for nothing was I the unchallenged victor of fifteen years of hide-and-seek with my brothers and Lucah.

Lucah. His name pulls on my heartstrings, and I stop walking for the beat of a second, trying to rein my thoughts in. Don't waste time, Valentine-Cook! You've got these Games to win! I'm about to place my next foot forward when I hear the slightest rustle of leaves to my left. I suppose it could be some sort of animal, a rabbit or the like, but somehow, I can't believe that. Somehow, I have the worst feeling that we're being followed.

"Sienna!" I murmur, almost inaudibly, but she hears me. Her head whips around and she's by my side in an instant, the look of dread on her face confirming my suspicions. She tilts her head in the direction of the sound, her long eyelashes casting shadows down her cheeks. Her neck snaps back towards me and, quicker than I can ask what the hell she thinks she's playing at, she's hoisted me onto her shoulders, run forward and deposited me onto the highest branch around that's possible for me to reach.

"Climb!" she whispers, releasing her back of the bags she was carrying, and carefully removing first one dagger, then another, then two more. "Go!" she urges, and I need no more advice. I climb.

It's bloody hard, but miraculously, I reach the fifth branch from the ground in a matter of seconds. But, perhaps, it's due to the fact that, right now, I'm climbing for my life.

I sit down on the branch and look down. Sienna is still alone, a dagger in both hands and the other couple thrust into her belt. From my vantage point, I can see all; the small bluebird sitting in the tree opposite me, the family of rabbits feasting on grass behind a small copse of bushes…and the two tributes lying down in the brush only metres from my ally.

I freeze in the tree, wanting to release some sort of warning cry, but there's an odd obstruction in my throat, and I feel paralysed. I watch helplessly as the two boys creep up slowly, silently…

But not silently enough. Sienna hears them and, quick as a lashing whip, whirls to meet the larger of the two in combat. I can see their faces clearly now, and can recall them in great detail, for though my body is immobilised, my mind is working overtime.

The boy who Sienna's battling is the Career from Four, a bulky guy called Ryan who scored a ten in training. The other is a lankier, skinnier boy, my age or younger, whose name I can only just dredge up from memory; Jonathan. Said Jonathan is now sneaking up behind Sienna, but she obviously can't do anything to stop it, since she and this Ryan guy are neck in neck. I see him land a punch on the side of her face, a flowering purple bruise quickly forming, but only moments later, she slices through a broad bicep with one of her daggers, drawing blood. Four bares his teeth in pain, flicking his blonde hair from his eyes, and advances once more.

Jonathan is meanwhile ever closer. I have to do something, I realise. Sienna can't fight them both. And suddenly, like a miracle straight from God, the feeling rushes back to my limbs. I jerk my hands about, my eyes roaming the space around me, looking for something I can use… My gaze zeroes in on some acorns, hanging in a cluster right beside my head. Perfect!

I grab them all, resisting the urge to cackle evilly once they are in my grasp. Without even looking down to examine the scene below me, I let one acorn fly. It sails from my hand, headed straight for the scuffle, and bonks Eight on the shoulder. He pauses, startled, and glances up. When his eyes meet mine, I think I recognise the slightest flicker of fear in them, before he turns away and unsheathes a dagger from his jacket.

"Oi!" I snarl. I hurl a handful of the nuts down; they rain upon Eight's head and he flinches, lifting up his hands to save himself from the blows. I change my target, reeling back my good arm and then uncoiling it, letting several acorns zoom straight into the face of Four. He screams in pain as one of them pokes him in the eye; that's all the time Sienna needs to push him away hastily, turn and thrust her dagger into the stomach of Eight, who is only an inch away from impaling my friend on his own weapon. Jonathan gurgles, and Sienna kicks him away in disgust, leaving her dagger to protrude from his skinny chest. She turns quickly back to Four, who's recovered from his ambush of acorns, only to see him assaulted by more. I let out a whoop as another direct hit into the throat makes Ryan's head fling backwards. Sienna stares up at me.

"What the hell, Eulalie?" she shouts, drawing out one of the knives from her belt. "What are you doing?"

I respond without a moment's thought. "Improvising!" I scream, and hurl another round of the nuts down upon my enemies. Sadly, however, Four seems to have gotten used to the acorn assault; sneering up at me, he turns back to Sienna and pulls out a wicked blade from the dark recesses of his shirt. She and I gulp in unison, and I sit back on the branch, holding my breath. I look around for some more of my trusty missiles, but it seems I've stripped the tree from as many acorns as possible. There's none left around for me to use. I stifle a shout of annoyance.

Sienna and Ryan are locked in combat once again. His brute strength is looking just enough to overpower her; I almost can't bear to watch…until I shift my glance slightly and witness an insane event. Eight, whom was only just stabbed by Sienna and left to die…Eight has gotten to his feet, pulled the knife from the seeping wound in his chest and is now approaching Sienna with a single-minded determinedness that I have never seen before. I look desperately over at my ally, but she's so preoccupied with Ryan I doubt she's noticed a thing. There's only one course of action now…

I unzip the pack next to me, pull out the thinnest, longest wire I can find, take a deep breath, and drop to the ground.

The impact jars my limbs, but I stand shakily, pulling the wire taut between my hands. I take another deep breath. I can almost hear Lucah's voice in my head. You can do this, Lillie. I can see you again, if you just do this.

Both Eight and Four haven't even registered my appearance on the ground. Neither, for that matter, has Sienna. I gulp again, and begin to walk forward, careful not to make the slightest sound. I'm only two paces from Jonathan now, just as he is only two paces from the expanse of Sienna's back, ready and open for someone to stab…

No. With that single word ringing in my mind, I unleash a throaty yell, and pounce on Jonathan, heaving my arms over his head and pulling the wire tight across his throat. I pull and pull and pull, the gurgle of Eight's final breaths sinking deep within my soul, etching themselves into my memory as something I know I'll never forget.

He stops twitching after a long moment, and his head lolls back onto my shoulder, a bloody smile cut into his throat from my garrotte. I stumble away, letting him fall to the ground, and throwing away from weapon as far as I can get it.

I look up through my fringe to see Four's shocked expression at his companion's untimely demise, and to also see him let down his guard for the tiniest fraction of a second; a fraction just long enough for Sienna to stab him through the heart. He drops like a stone, and suddenly it is only me and Sienna left, standing in a quiet clearing, our blood-covered hands the only signal as to our murderous hearts.

The cannon fires twice, and as if a button inside me is pushed, I stumble away from the fallen tributes and heave my guts out onto the grass. I retch again and again, bringing up both my blood and breakfast, until there is nothing left within me but a hollow emptiness.

I startle at the touch of a hand to my cheek, and I turn to meet Sienna's snapping eyes. "Come on," she says quietly. "Let's get you cleaned up." And she leads me onwards by the hand, like a little child, making me feel safe and warm and happy until I forget the death I have just wrought upon the world, the grievous act I have just committed. Until it is only me and her, walking and talking, for all the world a couple of friends whiling the day away.

Your Last Killing in the Arena/ Winning the Games

I wake in a state of disorientation, unable to remember exactly where I am or what I'm doing here, lying beneath a blanket of leaves. Has Lucah been up to his tricks again? I wonder. Did I fall asleep in the garden at home?

And then it hits me.

I sit up so fast, the leaves covering me don't fall off immediately - they stick like glue to my clothes for a moment or two, before slowly detaching themselves and drifting towards the ground. Oh God, I think. The Games. Royal. Sienna.

I drop my head to examine my hands, to see if there are any traces on me that pertain to the murderer I am. There's nothing. My nails are rimmed with dirt, my palms scratched and sweaty, but all the blood and guts from Four and Eight's deaths were washed off last night, and it is now as if they had never been there, as if I had never killed Jonathan with my own two bare hands.

But I won't live a lie. I won't convince myself that it never happened, that I'm still pure and innocent, because I'm not. I want to know just what I've done; I want to remember the dying gurgles of my victims. It's the only way I will retain my humanity. Sienna may be fine with killing without a second thought, but I'm certainly not.

Speaking of Sienna, I look over to where her sleeping form is curled up above me. I recall last night only hazily, but it went something along the lines of this: we walked to a tree, I refused to climb it, Sienna covered me with leaves to disguise me, and she scaled the elm all by her lonesome, which I was totally fine with. By the looks of things now, she's still asleep.

I sigh, scrunching my hands up into fists, and try to dispel the gloom that has settled over me. It's all very well to think of saving my humanity, but it is the Games, and that means I must be wary, must be watchful. Every. Minute. Of every. Day. And that means I can't have my mind cluttered up with unnecessary philosophical musings about murder and finding one's inner self…

Right, I tell myself firmly. Shut up, Eulalie.

I stand. "Oi!" I say in a loud whisper. "Sienna? Anyone home? We need to go!"

There's a mumbling from the inanimate form huddled in the branches above me, and then Sienna turns over, her arm slipping from beneath her chest and coming to hang down towards me. Her head lolls forwards, and in the morning light I can see her still-closed eyes. I sigh again. This calls for immediate action.

A find a nice sized rock and heft it in my hand, testing its weight. I try to ignore the sense of déjà vu I feel at this, because thinking about yesterday and my acorn antics will only get me all blubbery and hiccuping and in an all round dreadful mess. "Oi!" I whisper again, hoping she wakes up at this, because I really don't want to find out her reaction to my Plan B. Sienna doesn't stir. I groan, bite my lip, and then hurl the rock, wincing as it clobbers my ally in the dangling arm.

Sienna sits up straight away, a dagger already in her fist, her eyes darting around wildly. "Down here!" I call, and she drops her head down to shoot me a murderous glare.

"What in the world was that for?" she whispers furiously, sheathing her dagger and unbuckling herself from the branch.

"You weren't waking up!" I say as she packs up her blanket into one of her two packs and drops to the ground. I flinch at her impact, but she is unperturbed.

"That's ridiculous," she sniffs, obviously trying to retain her dignity. Well, I've gotta hand it to her; she was just clobbered by a nice-sized boulder, but apparently is no less a party-pooper than before. "We need to get moving," she says quickly, and starts off in what I assume to be a northerly direction.

"I just said that!" I mutter under my breath, but make no further complaints. I just spin on my heel and stomp off after Sienna.

It must be about midday when we meet our first female tribute (other than ourselves, of course) in the Games. One minute, we're munching on some berries Sienna deemed safe to eat and I'm slowly drawing my ally out of her shell, and the next moment, we hear a wild war cry and a pretty brunette girl bursts from the bushes, axe in hand. She can't have been following us for long, otherwise one of us would have noticed something, but I feel ashamed when I realise it was probably my incessant chatter over the past half hour that stopped Sienna from gleaning that we had a pursuer.

Sienna has unsheathed her dagger by now, and I back away slowly until my head hits the trunk of a tree behind me. I crouch down, swallowing my principles, preparing to burst from the shadows and save the day if things appear dire, which I'm assuming they will be. After all, even if Sienna got an eleven in training and has been killing since she was born - most likely, anyway - she is only holding a couple of flimsy daggers, while this girl - this creep, I correct, watching the way her eyes dart from side to side, sizing us and the area around us up - is wielding a bloody big battle axe. I'm pretty sure she's from District Nine, as I recall her score of eight from training and also her partner - Caleb, I think - who was the first to die in this arena. I realise with a jolt that Sienna was the one who killed Caleb, and now his ally - Marley, I remember triumphantly - is probably back for revenge.

The fight has gotten bloody. Sienna's cheek, already bruised from yesterday's brawl with Ryan from Four, now sports the unbecoming accessory of several scratches, running lengthways all the way from her eye to her chin. I wonder briefly what could have caused this, for surely the axe would have created a far less delicate wound, and come up with a quick and easy answer - fingernails. The cat fight has officially begun, I commentate in my head as Sienna lands a slicing blow in Nine's shoulder. She growls - just like a cat, I giggle mentally - and staggers backwards, clutching the wound. Her eyes narrow, the pupils zoning in dangerously on Sienna, and suddenly she pounces.

Well, slap me silly and call me Joe, I think. Because instead of striking Sienna bang in the chest, Marley from Nine suddenly finds herself without an axe in her hand. She stumbles, bewildered, and turns around to see Sienna twirling the weapon in her own hands nonchalantly. I expect some sort of cutting comeback line, but as usual, Sienna surprises me. She just jumps forward in perfect mockery of Marley's earlier leap of faith, and brains her opponent completely; sticking the axe into the girl's skull until only the handle is showing.

I suppose I should be celebrating, or hurling my guts out, or both. But instead, I feel frozen, and suddenly I'm not seeing the triumphant Sienna and dead Marley any more. It's like I'm stuck in some sort of time warp, for I find myself back at home, huddled on the floor of our living room, my back leaning against my father's legs. I'm watching the television, and suddenly I realise what this is. It's Xavier's Games, and I'm about to watch him die.

Xavier turns, his eyes watchful and wary as he surveys the landscape around him. It's a desolate place, barren and full of rocks and cacti. He doesn't have a weapon - he didn't particularly want to risk the bloodbath at the Cornucopia yesterday, and besides, the only weapons available were those horrible spiked maces and double-bladed axes that he wanted no part in.

A crackling sound to his left jerks his head around, and he curses himself. It's that Career from Two, what's-his-name… He's holding two of the dreaded weapons, and a malevolent grin is splashed across his lips. Xavier wonders how he didn't notice this great lump of a tribute sneak up behind him, but in his heart of hearts, he knows the answer. He was wishing he was back home so bad, he'd forgotten about the Games, about the risks, about everything except his family back in Three.

The Career snarls, and quick as blinking, throws the axe in his right hand straight at Xavier. His aim is true, and Xavier falls instantly, the weapon embedded deep into his skull. He is still alive however, just, and his heaving chest is more painful than anything he's ever experienced.

"You'll regret that," Xavier says, blood and spittle flying from his mouth, his limbs twitching manically. "One day, you'll-" And then he says no more, for the light has gone from his eyes, and suddenly Xavier Valentine-Cook is no more.

A hard slap across the face brings me back to the present. Sienna is shaking me, holding my shoulders, and my cheeks are damp, my own chest heaving in a horrible imitation of my brother's dying moment so many years ago. "Eulalie…" Sienna says. "Eulalie, snap out of it! What's wrong?"

I take a shuddering breath, trying to control my body. "Nothing," I murmur, pushing away from Sienna and standing upright, albeit slightly wobbly. "Just…a memory. That's all." I sniff deeply, trying to clear both my blocked sinuses and my morbid thoughts. "We should keep moving," I say, and stepping over Marley from Nine's prone form, I forge ahead, Sienna close behind.

It's been dark for about an hour or so when Sienna calls for a halt. She looks around carefully, as if afraid we're the prey and someone - or something - is hunting us. And I'm half right.

"There's something…close," she murmurs, listening carefully. "Not too close, but…close. Careers, by the looks of things."

I swallow. Today, we'd heard two cannon shots - other than Marley's - that had alerted us to the presence of people who were, in all likelihood, Careers from One and Two. "Alright," I say, my mouth dry. "Tree time again?" I hate it, but sometimes, it's necessary, especially when there are people akin to serial killers in close proximity.

Sienna nods, preparing to scale the nearest, biggest oak when an idea hits me. "You coming?" Sienna calls, halfway up.

"No…" I murmur. "No, Sienna. You…you go ahead. I'll keep watch."

Siena tries to protest, but I quash her misgivings and, in the end, she gives in, climbing up to her opportune branch and settling down into it. She's asleep - or dead, I suppose - within seconds. Huh, I think. Wish I could just conk out like that…

But I have work to do. I blink my sleepy eyelids furiously, shrugging my pack off my shoulders, unzipping it and rummaging through its contents. "Let's get this party started," I whisper through bared teeth, and I get to work.

"Eulalie! Eulalie! Get up, you lump!"

I snap my eyes open to find Sienna's face hovering inches from mine, her eyebrows scrunched up in worry and fear. I sit up hurriedly, my blanket of leaves falling from my clothes. Sienna makes to run, but I grab her ankle. "Stop!" I whisper. "Do you want to die, or not?" Sienna looks at me in confusion. I sigh, getting to my feet. "Follow me - and carefully!"

I tiptoe across the ground for about ten metres, making careful to put as little pressure on my feet as possible. I pause. "When I say jump, Sienna, you jump, okay?" I feel her nod behind me, and I spring from the ground, putting as much effort in as I can to soar as far as possible. I wobble slightly on landing, but regain my balance. "Exactly as I did, okay? Jump…now!" Sienna jumps, easily clearing the distance and landing perfectly. I roll my eyes, then turn and lead her through a circuitous route of hops, skips and more jumps. To Sienna's credit, she doesn't ask any questions.

Once we've cleared the maze, I stop. "Righto, then. Let's enjoy the show!" Sienna stares at me as if I'm mad. "Didn't you realise what all that was?" I say. "I was very busy last night; let me tell you that…" I trail off as footsteps come pounding towards us. Sienna turns to me, angry and horrified and confused all at once, but I pat her once on the head and shrug. "Watch," I say.

It's only seconds before the Careers come into view. Four of them, I count, both boy and girl from both One and Two. Ontario, the tribute from Two with a face like a squished boulder, gives me a grin. "You're dead!" he calls across the distance that separates us, less than one hundred metres. His partner gives a wild laugh. It takes me a moment to place her, but when I do, it clicks. Her name's Troian, she gained a nine in training, and she's the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life. Her hair's a pale gold and waving down her back, and her eyes are bright sapphires against her snowy skin. The expression she's pulling - a mean twist of the lips, a raising of one eyebrow - should make her slightly less beautiful, but all it does is personifies her volatility. I remember that she's very dangerous, and maybe-most-likely-definitely wants to kill me.

"Um…Eulalie?" Sienna whispers beside me. "Shouldn't we run?" I gesture at her to wait, and I watch with baited breath as our enemies begin to run towards us…any moment now…

And in the blink of an eye, it happens. One moment Troian is pulling ahead of her allies, unsheathing her blade and grinning wickedly, and the next, her head is sliced clean off her neck and is hitting the ground with a dull thump. Her body quickly follows, crumpling like an old sock puppet. Her companions jerk to a halt, watching with horror as the tripwire Troian so unfortunately activated becomes visible. The cannon fires, and Ontario howls. "I'll get you, Three!" he yells, and I'm rather shocked to see tears beginning to form in his eyes. Obviously, Troian meant a lot to him.

"Righto, Sienna," I say under my breath. "Now would be a good time to run, I think." She nods, and we run.

We pound through the forest for about an hour before my ally slows down and tells me to do the same. She gives me a strange look. "What was that?" she asks.

"Tripwire," I say back, not about to sacrifice my humanity enough to grin and laugh about killing another human being. "I was up all night working on 'em. The Careers'll have a hard time getting through, though I won't count on any of the rest of them dying."

Sienna nods slowly. "That was…brilliant. I underestimated you."

I shrug. "It happens, babe. Now, who's up for some breakfast?"

The next day dawns bright and clear. Nothing of any consequence happened, really, yesterday, so we'd decided to call it an early night. I was glad; my previous escapade with the traps and snares had deprived me of a good rest. And so it is when I open my eyes, they're still heavy with sleep and struggling to stay open. I wriggle into a sitting position, shading my eyes against the sun. Sienna's awake, and obviously taking stock; she's pacing up and down the small clearing we settled in.

"Ants in your pants?" I say, standing up and stretching. She jumps at the sound of my voice, but gives a small smile and shrug. Well, I think. There's hope for her yet!

We get moving quickly that morning, stopping only for a quick snack. Sienna's unusually quiet, and I want to ask her what's wrong, but I have a feeling the question wouldn't go down at all well.

We walk for a couple of hours, winding this way and that through the towering trees around us. We hear a cannon fire, but when the helicopter comes to retrieve the body, it's far enough away to let us stay relaxed. We don't know if the death was made by a Career, or just a random tribute, a dark horse in the competition desperate to prove themselves. To be honest, I don't really want to know.

After a hasty lunch accompanied by a quick 'call of nature' stop, we hear something. Well, more like smell something - smoke. Someone's lit a fire close by, and with the possibility that it could be an enemy, Sienna and I unsheathe our weapons (mine being the smallest dagger I could find in Sienna's pack) and continue quietly, barely making any noise on the dry, crackly bed of leaves beneath us. For once in my life, I'm thankful my mother signed me up for dancing lessons before she died, for without them, I surely would've sounded like a bumbling ox trying to work my way through a pile of ceramic plates.

Sienna holds up a hand, gesturing for me to stand still. I teeter on my tiptoes, then roll backwards onto the balls of my feet, finding a better purchase in the ground. I glance at my ally, and she looks at me, her gaze quizzical. I understand the question in her face; do we kill them?

"Wait and see," I whisper, and step out in front of Sienna, through the last thicket of bush separating us from the unknown quantity. It takes me a moment for us to find our quarry, but when we do, I can't help but grin. "Tallulah?" I try, and the girl sitting down before me nods happily.

"Eulalie, right?" she asks. "Thank goodness you're here, you know! I saw you in the training centre when you were at the edible plants station, and God, you have no idea how much I wanted to join you, but Michael made me stay with him, and so I've had no idea what to eat this past week! I swear I could've died five times over! Oh, and don't worry - I saw you killing Michael, but he was a pain anyway, and it was inevitable! He was never going to win! I still can't believe it's you, and- oh goodness, is that Sienna Whishaw? Gosh, you have no idea how happy I am to see the both of you right now, let me tell you that!" When she finishes speaking, Tallulah isn't even out of breath. I must admit, I'm impressed.

"Yeah, sorry about that…happy to hear Michael was a pain, though," I say, forcing myself to give a smile, though to hear death and murder bandied about in such a way makes me feel sick to my stomach, especially when I was the one who did the 'killing' part. "I'm sure you could stick with us from now on, though…Sienna?"

My ally steps out of the shadows, eyeing Tallulah warily. She walks straight up to the girl, who stands and holds out her hand to shake, her face brimming with happiness. I feel a sense of accomplishment inside of me, now, to know that we've probably saved this girl from a horrible death… But something's wrong. Sienna's not smiling, which isn't too unusual, I suppose, but her snapping eyes have an awful glint to them, like corrugated steel, and instead of shaking Tallulah's hand, Sienna stretches out her own arm, grasps the girl by the neck, twists, then lets her fall to the ground.

The cannon fires.

I can't fathom what I'm seeing. Tallulah from Six, such a beautiful, bubbly eighteen-year-old, is lying on the ground, stone dead, her big brown eyes no longer seeing the terrible, bloody world we're all living in. And she didn't just die, did she? A little voice inside my head tells me. She was murdered, murdered by the girl whom you call friend…

An unspeakable rage builds up inside of me. I've never felt so angry in my life. It's as if someone has taken all the nasty things that make up our world, that make up Panem, and has condensed them into an awful anger elixir which I have then swallowed without a second thought. The rage consumes me, making my vision turn red, and the only time I've ever felt like this before is when Alistair killed Royal, killed that poor little boy. My chest is heaving, and I'm certain I'm crying, but I don't care. Because what Sienna's just done is an act of evil, something so terrible I almost can't express my shock and fury and confusion in words - almost.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yell, and I don't care if anyone hears me, if the Careers find us. I just want answers. "Are you insane? Psycho? Do you even know what you just did?"

Sienna eyes me calmly, as if killing unarmed teenage girls is a daily occurrence for her. "Of course I do. I killed the enemy, just like I did before. Just like you've done, too, Eulalie."

"Just like I've done? Have you lost your mind? I've killed people, Sienna, who would've killed me. Or you. Or Royal…not just any old person who happens to cross my path!"

"I don't see how it's any different."

"How-" For a moment, I can't speak. I can't find the word to express my horror at her, at what she's saying, at what she's done. "Of course it's different, Sienna." I drop my voice to a whisper. "It's different because that girl there was kind, was caring-"

"What does that all matter if she won't win, then, Eulalie?" The deadly serenity in Sienna's voice incenses me even further.

"It matters because we're all human beings, Sienna. We all work the same way. Sure, if someone's holding an axe to your head, or a knife to your heart- sure, kill 'em. Go right ahead." I take a deep breath. "But if someone is standing before you, smiling and offering you the hand of friendship, you take it, Sienna. You take their gratitude, their grin. You don't just kill them, then and there. They have a life. They have friends, family, people at home who, right now, are probably cursing you into oblivion. Because she did not deserve to die, Sienna. Tallulah was a girl who would never hurt a fly, and you snapped her neck like it was of no consequence whatsoever. I wonder how you can remain so normal, so…human, because what you've just done is utterly the opposite."

"I did what I had to do." Sienna's snapping eyes are hardening again, steeling themselves. "Do you want to win these Games or not, Eulalie?"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Is that what's it's about to you? Winning? You're joking, right?" Sienna doesn't respond. "These Games are so much more than that, Sienna. You have no idea, do you? I don't care about winning, about killing everyone off so I can get home. Survival is not my top priority here. I'm here to- to care, Sienna. To watch over. To know what is right and what is wrong, and what you've just done is way beyond the latter. Sure, I wanna go home. See my dad, Sean, Lucah-" My voice cracks on the last name, and I swallow, blinking back tears. "But I'm not about to kill anyone who crosses my path to do that. It's just not right. It's inhumane, and I'll speak for myself when I say that I'd like to keep my humanity, thank you very much. Not throw it away at the drop of a hat."

"Sometimes you don't have a choice. I had to kill her, or she would've turned on us sooner or later. I couldn't risk that." Sienna nods, agreeing with herself.

"You still don't get it, do you? Not everyone has death on their minds, Sienna. A lot of us just want to make allies, just want to get through this hellhole. We're not all lunatics, madwomen, who'll kill you as soon as we look at you. Tallulah just wanted help, Sienna." I sniff deeply. "She wanted help to escape this pit of filth, this basin of immorality. She wanted to get home, yes, but she wasn't about to murder you to do that."

"It's part of the Games, Eulalie. Kill or be killed, remember? I just did to her what I would've done to anyone else."

I blink, a questioning of Sienna's motives rising to the forefront of my mind. "Oh yeah?" I murmur, my brain working overtime. "If you did that to her, then why didn't you do it to me?"

Sienna's mouth opens and closes like a fish. I feel a vindictive pleasure at her helplessness, at her inability to form a coherent answer because I've stumped her, hit her in the place where it hurts - and hard. "You're different," she finally croaks out, breaking eye contact with me and looking to the ground.

"I am not," I say mildly. "I'm just as base as the rest of you. I was made the same way; I've lived like everyone else. There is no difference between her," at this, I point to Tallulah, "and me. Except for the fact that, right now, she's dead and I'm not. But that'll probably change soon. You and I both know I have no chance in hell at surviving this."

Sienna gives a jerky nod. "Alright…come on, then." I stare. "What?" she says. "We need to get moving before the hovercraft comes."

I shake my head, a smile of incredulity unfurling across my face. "Don't you understand?" I say softly. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I can't live with someone who thinks they have the right to give and take life. It's against my principles. So if you'll excuse me, I'll go this way, and you'll go that way."

Sienna just stares.

"If you'll remember, you wanted to split up towards the end of the Games anyway. Now's as good a time as ever, don't you think?"

I turn my back on Sienna, choking back the tears that have risen to the surface. It's for the best, I tell myself, though I feel a sense of foreboding that the next time I see Sienna - if there is a next time - it will be in a far more grave situation, with far more at stake. I hear Sienna turn also, and the telltale crunching of leaves that alerts me to the fact she's departing. "May the odds be ever in your favour," I whisper under my breath, and though it seems impossible, I'm sure she heard me.

I don't turn around until I've reached the shadows, and when I do, there's no-one there. Sienna Whishaw is now naught but a ghost.

A day passes. Then three. It's a whole week before I hear the next cannon fire. By then, I'm almost at the edge of the forest again, as I was heading in the opposite direction to what Sienna and I had begun originally. Sienna…I shake that thought out of my head. She's too smart to die, I tell myself. She's still around, that I'm sure of.

Through the wall of trees, I can see the Cornucopia. God, whatever made me come back to this place? The sun shines on the golden horn, illuminating it so brightly I'm blinded by the intensity. I decide to make camp a little further back in the trees, just enough so I'm sure I'm not visible from outside the forest.

I'm sizing up a tree, wondering if I should climb it, when I hear two more cannon shots, almost simultaneously. I freeze. Three deaths in ten or so minutes…something's gotta be up.

I make a quick decision. Climbing the elm would have its advantages, but it would also limit my manoeuvrability and I don't particularly want to risk another hole in my arm. Speaking of that…I glance down at the bandage covering the wound. I'd been too scared to peel it off before, but now seems like a good time as ever. The blood has seeped through to the top layer, and the bandage itself has a greenish tint, which I'm sure can't be good. That, coupled with the fact that over the past few days the pain has spiked to an all new level leads me to believe my arm probably isn't in too good a condition.

I settle down into a nice sized hollow, drawing a sheet of bark that lies oh-so-conveniently next to me over it, and then begin to undo the gauze. Before I'm even halfway done I can tell it's bad. I grit my teeth against the pain, determined to persevere, and when the last layer falls off, the bandage fluttering to the ground, I breathe a sigh of relief.

And then I chance a look at the wound.

It's hideous. The hole is still there - hey look, my foot! - but now it's rimmed with browns and purples and greens, the beginnings of an awful infected bruise. I tear my eyes away from the sight, swallowing down the bile that's immediately risen up my throat.

I wish I had heard the slow sounds of someone sneaking up on me. I wish I hadn't been so consumed by the pain that I had noticed the crackle of branches underfoot as someone approached. But I didn't. And so it's with a jump of surprise that the bark ceiling is ripped off my hidey-hole and I'm dragged out into the fresh air by my hair. I screech, hitting out with my good arm, but I make no impact. A low guttural laugh seizes me with fear, and I swivel my head slowly to find myself face-to-face, eye-to-eye with the ugly brute, Ontario from Two.

"I told you I'd get you," he grins, and I scream. I don't think I've ever screamed louder in my life; and what I'm screaming for, I have no idea, because I know that I'm dead either way. Ontario releases me and I fall to the ground, hitting a protruding rock face first and splitting my lip on its sharp point. I spit out the blood accumulating in my mouth and stagger to my feet, my wounded arm hanging limply by my side.

Ontario is wielding a sword - an honest to goodness sword - and though it looks heavier than me, he swings it with ease. He wastes no time with small talk, instead rushing forward and striking. I dodge the first blow, but the blade cuts through my clothes, leaving a big rip up the side of my shirt and reducing my already battered jacket to shreds. I shiver. Ontario eyes me hungrily.

The next swing he takes, I'm not so lucky. It misses my throat by an inch, but falls slightly to the left and suddenly my arm is on fire. I swallow my fear and look down. I promptly throw up.

My severed forearm is lying on the ground, slowly pooling blood as more of the red liquid slides down my leg. Oh God oh God oh God, I think. I've never felt pain like this, never known what it is to feel like your whole body is on fire, like you're about to die but you can't, because it hurts so much, just too goddamn much-

A fierce war cry slices through the pain, and through the haze of shit-shit-shit-fuck-shit-it-hurts I see a dark head of hair coming my way. Beneath its fringe, I spot a pair of snapping eyes, and in its hands are two glinting daggers. I try to smile, but instead I scream.

I don't see much of what happens during the fight, just hear exclamations here and there and the wet sound of metal against flesh. I feel a hand on my arm, and I jerk upwards, but the hand is softer than I could have imagined, and instead of bad breath and a face like a brick, I'm greeted by a warm smile and corrugated iron glinting eyes.

Sienna.

Words bubble up to my lips, along with a nice amount of blood, but Sienna places her finger on my mouth and tells me to hush. I nod jerkily, splashing blood onto her face, but she just wipes it off without comment.

"Hush, Eulalie. It's okay…it's alright…" She strokes my hair like I'm a child and she's my mother and, strangely, I'm okay with it.

It seems like we spend forever just sitting there, smiling into each other's faces, but then I realise something. Even though I'm blinded by pain and not entirely in my right state of mind, I'm not deaf, and unless I'm much mistaken, the cannon hasn't fired for Ontario, which means…

My blood runs cold.

"Si- si-" I try to warn her, but Sienna shushes me again, not noticing my distress. I crane my neck to see over her shoulder, and-

"Look out!" I splutter, but it's too late. Sienna makes a grunting sound, and we both look down at her chest to see the sword sticking straight out of it, running right through her heart. I blubber, grab one of Sienna's daggers from where she dropped it, and throw it. It hits Ontario square in the brow, and he falls backwards.

The cannon fires.

Sienna is shaking, her limbs twitching uncontrollably, her eyes rolling. I struggle into a sitting position, the edges of my world blurry due to blood loss, and I slowly push the sword out of my friend. I'm holding the sharp end, and it cuts through my fingers, but I don't care, I keep going, because I can't bear my best friend to be skewered like a pig on a spit roast. After what seems like forever, the sword falls free, and clatters to the ground. Sienna tumbles sideways, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"No, no, no, no…" I mumble, grabbing hold of Sienna's shoulders and shaking them. Her eyes focus.

"Hey," she smiles sadly. "My- my pack."

I just stare, and she shakes her head insistently, clenching her eyes closed tight. "Gauze…pack."

I pull the bag of my back with my good arm and unzip it slowly, making small whimpering noises as the movement aggravates my wound and as my ally slowly dies. Inside it is a medicine kit. I grab that out and rip it open with my teeth. Inside are some empty bottles and one bandage. One bandage. I realise what that means.

I look to Sienna, and she gives me a small smile, her eyelids having a spasm attack. "Take- take it," she rasps. I shake my head. "Take it, or- or I'll k- kill you." I shake my head again. "G- Goddamn it, Lil- Lillie. T- Take it!" I can't ignore her, not when she's looking at me with withering eyes. I take out the bandage gingerly, ripping of the plastic packaging and shaking it out to its full length. I examine it. There's not enough here for the both of us. There's barely enough for one person, as it is. Sienna nods shakily.

I wrap my stump of an arm with the gauze. I can hardly see what I'm doing, but it hurts a lot, which means something must be going right. Tears are streaming down my face and I'm finding it hard to breathe, but when I finish the bandage with a messy knot, I feel a swooping sensation in my gut that I realise is relief.

I lie back beside Sienna, guilt sticking to me just like the gauze. I want to say something, but I'm afraid of breaking the bubble of tranquillity that has been resting over us since I used her bandage. Sienna reaches out and takes my remaining hand, squeezing it feebly. It is she who speaks first.

"T- Tell me about Luc- Lucah."

I blink in surprise, but don't protest. "He's my best friend," I say quietly, a laugh bubbling up inside of me. "I- I think-" I stop, wondering whether I should continue. Oh, hell with it! "I think I- I love h- him." I let out a giggle, and even though when I do it feels like an iron band is tightening around my heart, pressing the life from me, I can't stop. After a moment, Sienna joins in, shaking and laughing and spluttering blood. It must be a gruesome sight.

"What 'bout you?" I ask. "Anyone spesh- special?"

"Eli," she says without hesitation.

"He sounds…mysterious." I break into another fit of giggles, rolling onto my good side and leaning comfortably against Sienna. I can feel the weak rise and fall of her chest as she laughs too.

"He is," she says, and we both laugh even harder. I suppose that's the thing about dying; it makes every other problem seem insignificant, no more than an itch on your foot.

We sink into silence, but I'm desperately looking for something to say, because silence means sleep, and sleep means death. "Do- do you wanna hear a story?" The blood build up in my mouth is making me lisp. Sienna trembles, which I take to be a yes.

"O- Once upon a t- time, there lived a p- princess. Okay?"

Sienna's voice is small. "Okay."

"Sh- she was so ugly, that no- no-one wanted to m- marry her. Okay?"

"Okay." Barely a whisper, now.

"So she w- went to a witch and asked for a sp- spell to make her b- beautiful. Okay?"

"Yes."

"B- But the witch refused, telling the princess th- that one day, a hand- handsome prince would come along and w- want to marry her despite her ug- ugly, ugly, ugly f- face. Al- alright?"

"Okay."

"The p- princess went home, distraught, and cl- climbed up a t- tree to sort out her f- feelings. Eventually, someone w- went looking for her, and it w- was her best friend, M- Minnie. Okay?"

Silence.

"Sienna?"

Silence.

I wriggle to a sitting position, ignoring the pain in my arm because there is something a whole lot more serious going down. "Sienna?" I whisper, shaking her. Her eyes are closed. "Sienna!"

The cannon fires.

"No…" No, this can't be happening. "Sienna!" My voice is a screech, sounding terrible to even my own ears. I scream again, falling forward against Sienna's chest, clutching her tight to me. "No, no, please! Please, God, no!" The tears are coming, they're falling thick and fast, and they're clogging up my airways so I can't breathe. And I don't want to breathe. I want to stop breathing, I want to die, because surely life beyond is far less painful than here, than now, on Panem, crying and screaming over the dead body of a friend. Of a tribute. Of a murderer. Of Sienna Whishaw, bravest of the brave.

Claudius Templesmith announces over the loudspeaker my victory. I don't care. I don't want victory, I don't want anything on this earth, I just want to be held by Sienna one more time, my hair stroked, sharing a joke that she doesn't understand but smiles at anyway-

I can barely hear the hovercraft's blades chopping overhead. A ladder falls down beside me, in the corner of my eye, but the tears are blurring my vision and I wouldn't be able to find my way to it even if I wanted to try. I look down at Sienna's still face, so beautiful in death, and try to wipe the blood splatters from it that have fallen from my mouth, but all I do is smudge them until her skin is red, red as strawberries, red as fire, red as anger, red as death.

A hand grasps me from behind, strong arms encircle me and suddenly I'm being lifted of the ground by a nameless, faceless Capitol citizen, being taken away from the only person I feel safe with here. I scream, I wriggle, I bang my fists, but nothing will stop my captor, and when they guide me to the ladder, I am frozen the moment I touch the rungs. My eyes dart in my sockets so wildly they begin to ache and weep something that I'm pretty sure isn't tears.

The hovercraft retracts the ladder, and it takes only moments for me to reach to vehicle, where I'm pulled off the ladder gently. Big mistake. I claw at the doctors surrounding me, spit at them, kick out at the people trying to subdue me. They want a Hunger Games? Well, they sure as hell are getting one.

One of the doctors advances on me, syringe in hand. I snarl and leap forward, but he sidesteps and then jerks his hand upwards, embedding the needle into my shoulder. I hiss is pain, and then the world goes black.

I'm surrounded by white. My first thought is heaven. But no, that's wrong, because I'm pretty sure heaven's made up of clouds, and instead I'm in an empty white room, sitting on a rigid white chair, facing a shining white door.

I'm intrigued.

The handle turns, slowly, so slowly, and the door opens just enough to let a tall, dark haired girl through. Sienna. She turns to me and walks forward, dropping to her knees and taking my hand.

I'm speechless, not only because of Sienna, but because of what she's wearing. A white dress, white shoes and white leather jacket. I look down at myself- and yelp. Same as Sienna. I look terrible.

"What are you doing here?" I say, and when she squeezes my hand its only then I realise both my arms are intact. "What…?" I say again, searching my friend's face for clues.

"I'm sorry," she finally says, eyelashes fluttering in an invisible breeze.

"For what?" I'm afraid of her answer.

"Everything, Eulalie. You deserved so much better…you still do." I blink. She sighs. "You'll see…soon. I'm so sorry. I wish there was something more I could do."

She presses something small and cold into the palm of my hand. It's a ring.

"This was my tribute token," Sienna says with a small smile. "You'll know what to do with it when the time comes." She stands, smoothing out the creases in her skirt. "I have to go."

"What? Sienna-"

"I'm sorry," she says again. "I have no choice. But I'll be seeing you soon, you can count on that."

"Sienna-"

She's at the door, her fingertips on the handle. She turns. "Say goodbye to Eli for me," she smiles, her eyes no longer corrugated iron but as soft and smooth as stained glass. She opens the door. "I love you, Eulalie. You deserved to win, so, so much. Enjoy your life." She gives me one last grin, before stepping outside of the room.

The door clicks closed behind her.

I awake, strapped to a table in a white room. For a moment I think I'm back with Sienna, wherever that was, but then I see the machines and charts surrounding me, and I know it's a futile hope.

I'm looking to the side, hoping to see a fellow human being who could help explain things for me, when I see it. My arm, my hand, my fingers. All of a shining silver metal.

I jerk my hand. The metal jerks with me. I give myself the thumbs up. The metal does too. I'm sorry, Sienna said. You deserved better… Oh God, I think. I'm a bloody robot.

I blink back the tears that have risen to the surface. I seem to have been crying a lot lately, but evidently, I still have some sobs left in my reservoir of sorrow. I struggle against the bonds that hold me down, and it's then when I feel it. Something hard and small and cold in the palm of my fleshy hand. I lift my head up as far as the straps will allow, and open my fist. A ring of gold, with a green gemstone set in the centre.

Sienna.

So it wasn't a dream, I think…or was it?

Author's Note: Sorry for the super long wait! *Goes and hides in a deep, dark cave.* Hope you enjoyed; only one more part to go!