A/N: I wasn't planning on writing this until I had a copy of THG to reference, but now I need to write something to "warm up," (no pun intended… seriously) and that's what I'm doing now…

Is the music of grove skin rock
Soaked in the diesel of war-boy's war?
Blood, black gold and the face of a judge
Is the music calling for a river of blood?

The Clash, "Corner Soul"

15 – Blood

My eyes remained fixated on the orange and golden flame as I tried to capture its warmth. I'd built the fire copiously, using a overly large pile of dry wood to create a massive flame. Nevertheless, the heat was insufficient. Whichever side of my body was away from the fire suffered from the harshly cold temperature of the night. I scooted closer, until the heat was intense enough that it stung.

I tried to slowly rotate my body like one would rotate a spit when cooking. The leaves beneath my feet rustled, but nothing could be done about that. Anyone who could hear it would be able to see the fire too, anyway.

The cold was still eating at me, sending sporadic shivers through my body. It was going to be a rough night. As much as I needed sleep, I didn't think it was possible. I'd never be able to lay down without freezing. And it wasn't safe to sleep when I was so exposed. I brought my arms into my shirt to try to conserve warmth, tucking my hands under my triceps.

It was uncomfortable, but I could manage in this position for a while, I though.

All of a sudden, I heard footsteps. I turned my head in that direction, fear coursing through my veins. They were approaching, quickly.

I silently hoped that it was just another tribute. Someone who didn't want to cause any trouble. But the footsteps were picking up speed now, and the intent was clear.

I was the target.

A light, but icy, wind brushed through the trees, causing the leaves to rustle overhead. I considered my options. After I few seconds of thought, I settled on my instinct: to run.

I pulled my hands free of my shirt and pushed myself up.

Muttering curses, I stumbled to my feet, but someone was already crashing through the trees. One of the Careers, I noticed. He brandished a vicious sword. The firelight made the whole scene more terrifying.

I was frozen. I was like a small animal, paralyzed with fear. The boy was already on top of me. I began feebly backing up, but he didn't hesitate. The sword sliced across my stomach as I weakly called out—as if someone would come to help me.

I fell backwards, my head landing painfully on the roots of a large tree. There was a good deal of laughter from the group, but it was all blurred. My senses were fading rapidly now as my mind tried to cope with the pain.

They seemed to realize that I had nothing of value—nothing at all—so after a little more discussion, they began to walk off.

The cold was no longer the main object of my attention; the sharp pain across my stomach, however, was. I applied pressure to the wound, extending my life as long as I could, but in vain, for I knew that there was no chance of survival. A groan escaped my lips.

I could feel the heat of the fire through my boots. However, the upper part of my body was freezing. Particularly my ears, the tip of my nose. My left hand was covered in sticky blood, which lost all of its heat shortly after gushing from the wound.

The blood was now gushing from my stomach, soaking my shirt. I just wanted it to end.

Once again, I detected the sound of footsteps. This time, though, they sounded like they were of another world. Maybe I was already dead—no, there was too much pain for that to be true.

Through my tears I could see a figure standing above me. I couldn't make out his features in the dim firelight.

"Please," I croaked.

Vocal action brought pain to my chest, and was followed by a volley of coughing. I thought I tasted blood, but I couldn't be sure. My blood was everywhere already.

"Sorry," the piteous response came. Briefly I felt a sense of extreme pressure in my chest as he thrust something down at me.

The moment of discomfort was immaterial, though, because it was followed by the bliss of nothingness as everything faded to black.