A/N: Hello darlings! Since spring break is now over I won't be able to update as often now, but thanks for sticking with the story! I have a lot more planned for the story, and I know the last chapters have been kinda slow but please keep reading; it's going to get more interesting. Please review!

Chapter Six

I looked up, spotting Ivy in a branch about ten feet above my head. She violently untied the rope securing her to the tree and dropped to the ground in a huff. "Have you ever," she began, sleep and rage festering in her eyes, "slept in a tree? It sounds great, right? No, actually, it's terrible. I have had four hours of sleep. And then you," she lazily pointed a finger into my chest, "come here and ruin it. Why?"

I smile despite her charged words, just excited that she was there. "I have cake," I said, extending her personalized delicacy. Her sleep deprived eyes widened, and she eagerly took it, taking off a piece with her fingers and eating it slowly, her heavy eyelids sliding shut in delight.

She sat on the ground, her mind encased in a whirlwind of frosting and fondant. He chuckled right as he saw Charlotte drop down from her branch, again falling hard on her ankles and stumbling backwards. Apparently before their trek, the girls had the common sense to bring pajamas with them, because she was stripped of her chic dress and now wore a gray t-shirt and obnoxiously blue sleeping shorts. Her legs were covered by polka-dotted knee high socks. I stifled a laugh.

She squinted away from the sun and looked at me, her eyes suddenly widening. "Oh, Drew…you're back." The words were probably intended to sound excited, but sleep swirled around her and muffled her voice.

I shrugged. "Of course." I handed her the cake, and her eyes lit up.

"Did you make this?" she asked, her voice still husky. She looked at it in admiration.

"Mhm," I mumbled, growing slightly embarrassed.

"I love it." Her tired voice faded to barely above a whisper. Her fingers traced against the gray fondant. "This is my favorite color."

I smiled as she pinched off a piece and ate it greedily, delight spreading across her features. This was the most I had ever heard her say; I almost wished it wasn't cut off short now that her mind was occupied. I wasn't sure if her fatigue had temporary lowered the walls around her or if she was beginning to warm up to me, but I liked hearing her voice, especially damped with the grogginess of sleep.

When I glanced at her again, the cake had miraculously transformed into a mere scatter of crumbs and a thin strip of lace. How long had it been since she'd eaten? I had noticed her frail figure before, but without the shield of her dress I could see how her hip bones jutted out, how you could practically count her ribs through her t-shirt. As she handed me the platter, her hands shook. "Thank you. It was delicious."

"Consider it a peace offering," I said. She looked up at me. "I'm on your side."

She gave me an unsure look. "You'll help us? You're going to travel halfway across Panem to stop the uprising?"

"I have to."

She nodded sadly, her eyes floating to the ground. She looked back at Ivy, who now slumped against the tree stump, her red hair disheveled and her eyes peacefully closed. She wore a dreamy smile, her platter empty next to her. My eyes travelled over her figure, her pajamas clinging to her curves and resting perfectly against her hourglass figure. I wondered how she could maintain such a healthy body while Charlotte's bones protruded and her hands shook violently at the simplest attempts of motion.

"Have you ever acted?" she asked.

"Never tried," I said. Well, unless you counted feigning interest in the countless people who stopped me in the streets. You would have thought I was a victor from all the attention I received, and sometimes took intense efforts to seem intrigued by their tales of the past.

"Ivy can teach you," she said. "She's talented like that."

"Good at acting?"

"Good at everything." She laughed nervously, her eyes emotionless, set on the ground. I could tell I struck a nerve, so I quickly switched my focus.

"How did you survive all this way?" I asked. "District 8 isn't necessarily a quick stroll away. If we're going to make it to District 2 on foot, we need some serious supplies, right?"

"Yeah, it took a lot of planning. Two months," she said. Her voice shook.

My stomach turned. "So District 2 has been in unrest for a while."

She nodded sadly, anxiously playing with her fingers.

I studied her frantic state, free to stare since her eyes were occupied by the ground anyways. She sat still, excluding her fingers, which danced in a nervous tango around each other, one bending the other back in an expert dip until tension released in a sickening crack. Her sun-kissed face was reduced to a sickly shade of white, and restless blood flushed to her cheeks in a spectrum of magenta. Her arms rested in a mosaic pattern, geometric shapes created by a tangle of blood vessels pushing their way to the surface.

For once I felt Charlotte's unease was in line with the situation. I felt my own heart rate quicken as I turned the conflict over in my mind, and I glanced at Ivy, wondering how her thoughts allowed her to stay calm enough for sleep to be conceivable. I supposed that throughout the warped sleeping schedule a runaway must live by, exhaustion was too must of an opposing factor.

I glanced back at Ivy, noticing how her eyelids had fluttered shut, exposing both her sharply applied eyeliner and her extreme fatigue. Her fingers trembled as they danced around each other. Pity panged deep within me, and without thinking, words escaped my lips.

"Have you ever slept in Victor's Village?"