My fingers fumbled as I tried to hurry. Somehow I managed to get the buckle on the belt loose and I stumbled from my sleeping bag. I nearly screamed as me, and the backpack that I had put in my sleeping bag fell to the ground with little ceremony. I didn't bother with packing, and there was no used in it. I picked up the belt and my water bottle and stuffed them into the bag. Only slinging it over my shoulder, I started running, as the wall of fire growing closer every second.

It wasn't as if it mattered how fast I ran. The night was swallowed with smoke and flames that seemed to try and incase me. I pumped my legs as fast as they'd go, as branches fell, crackling with fire, and I dodged them as best as I could. My brain was pumped with adrenaline and incapable of much more thought then getting away from the fire that was creeping closer, no matter how much I tried. I fell back instead on my instincts, to follow the animals that were fleeing as well. I could spot all kinds of animals, wild dogs, rabbits, and deer.

They were too fast for me, and I was too slow for their powerful legs. My boots caught on fallen limbs, holes, and roots hidden under fallen leaves. The heat burns my back and my face when I turn to track its process. Somewhere in my mind the fact that smoke is getting in my lungs is a known fact. But right now my brain is focusing on getting away from danger. No sleep is left in my mind. I tugged the edge of my shirt over my mouth and nose, and I'm grateful that it's covered in sweat, to block more of the smoke out.

I don't bother with dodging any of the low hanging limbs, more concerned in getting out of the section. I know that parts of the arena are set up for different traps. If I can get out of this one, I can make it away from the fire. True, I might get out of this trap only to be taken down by rabbit animals, but this is my only option.

This is no accident. I know because I've seen the fires in the past games. The gamekeepers must have decided that the game had begun to get boring, and so must be herding us together. No fire can be in such a perfectly curved line of fire such as that. It's a good tactic, something that isn't the most original that I've seen but it's effective. A large log is in my way. I jump over it, and stumbled not having jumped high enough. The tail end of my jacket caught on fire, telling how close to the fire I was. I kept stumbling along ripping the jacket off; so that I could stamp out the fire, smother the oxygen out of it.

I can't just drop it, knowing I might need it later on makes me sacrifice some of my speed so that I can stuff it into the bag on my shoulder. This little is all I have, and I can't risk wasting any of it. I feel as if I'm being cooked as I run, my lungs burning with fire, and my esophagus burning with each breath I take in, a worrying fact.

Taking cover under some rocks that will guard me from the fire long enough so that when I start vomiting, I won't be burned. Whatever was left in my stomach is no more. My body retches until there is nothing left in my stomach, until the only thing coming up is spit. It leaves me trembling and light headed but I know I have to continue on. I use a small amount of water to wash what I can of the vomit out of my mouth and then I take a couple of sips, in hopes of settling my raw stomach. I take as short a moment as I can to stuff the sleeping bag and all that is in it into the backpack.

I don't know where I am, the terrain is different. There were no rocks like this where I was. I had only just found water. Could they not leave me a moment of peace? No, that would do no good for the audience would it? What could I do though? I knew that the only reasonable reason for them to have done this is to drive us all together. If I could circle around the fire line, as it couldn't last forever simply because the audience would cry foul to that. I would avoid meeting the Career pack as well. I rose to try and find a way around the fire and narrowly avoided a hissing fireball to the head. It connected with a rock where my head had been.

I scrambled out of my rock safety and started running again. This time I hear the hiss of the next fireball and I ducked, just in time to avoid another one. Now I see. The fire was just to get us moving. These fireballs were to give the audience something. I dropped to the floor again and another fireball hits the ground to my right, sending a fire pillar up where it met the earth. There must be some real fire power behind those balls of fire.

I know that they can't be coming from a hovercraft; I can't see or hear one. It doesn't matter. All I know is that if I stand still too long, death is sure. If I hear a hiss, to the ground or I'll be a charred mess on the ground, just waiting for death. My survival instincts are taking over. Any thought of the pond is over. I made a zigzag path, again trying to get out of this area. Somewhere, I have an idea that some lone gamekeeper has his hand on the trigger, and all he's doing is trying to get a direct hit. Well, he can keep trying because I'll be damned if he kills me by fire.

The deathly fireballs are only an apple's size, but deadly full of power. I keep heading as forward, and in one direction as I can. I can't say how long it takes for the fireball attacks to start to fade, but what I know is I'm retching again and it's straight up stomach acid. I stop, forced as my legs won't move another inch, giving out. I gagged onto the floor but nothing was coming up. I wiped my mouth and grimaced, picking up the scent of burnt hair. I took my hair in one hand and I let out curses I'm sure the heartiest pirate would have flinched away from. I loved my hair.

In my anger the hiss registers too late. Without thought my muscles react for me, but not fast enough. The fireball lands to the left of me, but not before brushing its fiery fingers over my legs thigh. I yelped, something not a scream but not a full whimper either. Seeing my pants on fire sends me into a panic attack, but my brain remembers faintly a voice from a long time ago. If you ever catch fire, remember something simple. Stop. Drop. And Roll. I started rolling on the ground, mindful even in my panic of the blaze a short distance from me where the fireball had set fire to the ground.

The fire stops long before I stop rolling. When my mind comprehends that the fire is out, and that the burning in leg is the most intense pain I've felt in this universe, I know they've had a long time to kill me. They must have decided that the crazy lady who decided to roll the fire out wasn't worth killing just yet. I don't know. My mind is uncomprehending as I lay face down catching deep breaths for the first time since awakening.

All I can think of is Cinna's voice saying that one line, Katfir, the girl on fire. I don't know if I am thinking straight, not thinking, or just completely incapable of thought. My thigh is burning as if Devth* has wrapped his hands around my thigh and is burning with the fires that scald only this hot in hell. I suppose that was the Gamemakers intention. It's an understandable tactic, but it doesn't stop me from cursing them through so many times, in my head as I am not that senseless, that I wasn't sure if they wouldn't all just fall dead at their tables.

I just pray that Cinna, the smart man that he is would have realized the same as I had, was not blaming himself. He did not see this coming; no one could and there was no blaming him for this. In some ways I'm thinking it might have been better to just have Cinna dress me naked in that chariot after all. They haven't fired at me again, even in my moment of panic, so that means an attack must be imminent. That is the only reason they would stop, as that was their intentions.

In the end, they didn't want me dead. That may be the only reason I lived through it as I did. It's common knowledge that if they wanted they could kill us all. That's not the spirit of the Hunger Games, even though sometimes they do kill us, just to remind us that they can. The Capital loves to watch the tributes kill each other, as if it isn't real.

Through the pain and the black, stinky smoke that is still billowing from the no longer approaching wall of fire, I rise to my feet. I couldn't go for cover here; I would be killed by the deadly smoke. This in mind I limp away from the fire and out, towards a random direction that I'm not sure where leads. I'm almost convinced that anywhere short of the cornucopia it is better than here.

I know I'm an easy target, with my injury and my smoke inhalation it's unlikely that I'd be able to keep my guard up long enough to fight someone off. I'm not saying I'd take it lying down, but I'm still an easy enough target with the injury knocking off most of my more flexible defenses.

It's not to longer before the sun begins to break over the horizon and my eyes have to squint to see the beautiful picture it makes. It reminds me of all the times that I used to spend halted by that same picture. All of those times I'd halted in tracking food, or making my way to clean for Haymitch. The sight reminded me how quick my life had been torn apart by one little slip of paper with Katniss' name on it.

I think about drawing my knife, to protect myself but it won't do much good. It's not like I could lunge to use it, and I'm not even sure that I could hold it steady, or even hold it. My hands are trembling from the intense stab of unbearable pain that my already aching thigh sends when it stretches to walk. I'm not stupid, I know that if I don't treat this burn some how things are going to go downhill fast but there is nothing that I know of in all of my knowledge that could help me. I've never been one for medical knowledge, but I can guarantee that's going to be fixed in the future.

I'm so incased in my pain that I'm in halfway up my legs before I notice the pool I'm in. It's feed by a spring and it's blissful coolness nearly brings me down to my tired, bruised knees. I didn't bother hiding it. Instead I sunk to but, dropping until my thigh is sunk in a heavenly coolness. I couldn't stop the moan of relief that escapes me as the water flows peacefully, soothingly over my blistered thigh burn. I don't have the spirit to truly examine the wound.

I let my hands sink into the water to. The fingernail polish is coming off now. Good. Honestly right now I could do with no reminders of the gamekeepers, the Capital, or anyone that has recently pissed me off.

Burns are actually common in the Seam. The problem is that I've never stuck around long enough to see them, or hear how to treat them. I've always had somewhere to be, something that needs doing. Looking back it was an oversight on my side, but what could I really do now? Prim would know what to do with the burn. Sweet little Prim has always been good at helping people, and has never flinched at someone's wounds. Well, as long as it wasn't Katniss' or mine or Mom's. Prim was a soft soul. Katniss though. She was like me. She couldn't stand to be in the same room as someone hurt, and we would always run out when they were brought in for my mother to take care of.

I can't be a baby any more. I sighed and cautiously brought my thigh up. I swear the whine I let out isn't even human when I see the damage that is my leg. The only thing that I can be thankful for is that it isn't blackened, or down to the bone. I know that the cameras have probably caught my reaction, but at this moment I can honestly care less. The wound is bright, stinging red and covered in blisters. It's not too bad to soak thankfully, but it feels as if it'll burn off any moment. Tentatively I took the knife from the backpack and cut a bit of the fabric around the wound of, to clear away some of the irritation for when I eventually managed to get myself walking again. For now I dipped my thigh back into the water.

I know I should probably be moving on, the smoke is even beginning to clear from the air, I can see it. It's not healthy yet by any means but I wouldn't go back that way. I suppose I'm lucky that I stumbled upon this place, or I'd have been hunting again for water. It passes my mind that my senses, my not so mortal ones, are wanting to heal the wound. I think, just for a split second about letting them. I know the consequences though, so I am forced to allow the natural healing process to take place.

If I moved out, farther away from the fire I'm more likely to run straight to the blades of the career pack. I couldn't bear to part my thigh from the water anyways. Every time I do the stinging of the burn comes back tenfold. I use this time to be productive as well. I got my gear back in order, sliding the knife to an easily accessible place in my pants. With that taken care of I filled my water bottle and treated it, beginning to slowly rehydrate myself – again. I forced myself, praying that my stomach would behave, to eat one or two of my crackers. My sleeping bag was hardly damaged in the mad run, only carrying a few black marks.

My jacket though. It's burned to a crisp, scorched and stinking at least a foot of the back is beyond my help. When I'm done with cutting off the unusable parts all I have left is a jacket that comes down to my ribs, more suitable for the 21st century then now. At the very least the hood is intact which will come in handy if they decide to make it rain.

With my last bit of rabbit I make a meal out of some eatable roots nearby. I was too tired, near the point of collapse to do anything and my thigh protests any kind of movement from me. So instead of doing what I know I should, which is climbing a tree and sleep, I arrange my pack to be on back, in case I need to leave in a hurry and lay back upon the ground. I couldn't move to save my life. What was the point anyways? Sitting here and watching the sun make its slow way across the sky seems like an acceptable way to do it. If the Careers want me, they can find me.

I slowly and lightly drift into a calm, painful sleep.

Find me they do. It's sheer luck that I'm ready to move. When I hear them, through the haze of sleep, I have less than a minute to jerk myself out of the water and start running. My thigh burns, but it isn't the most pressing matter. What is the most pressing is the sluggishness in which they move, to exhausted and stretched from the running I've been doing. I won't last long running. I hear the raspy coughs the others are giving, and I thank God that I was over that now.

It doesn't matter, like a real pack would they are closing in on me, and quickly. So I fall back on what I know to help. I kept running until a short distance away I found a tree with just the right amount of limbs, and high enough to be safe and I start to climb. My thigh is now screaming, protesting having been taken from the water, and my legs and arms are stiff but nonetheless by the time they reach me I'm at least twenty feet up the tree.

I pause and my eyes fall on the people below me. For a moment it's nothing but surveying each other, checking the damage. All six of them are there, even my old pal Peeta is there. The only happiness I get is that they are pretty beat up. But they have weapons, and all I have is a knife that is absolutely on good for throwing. They are grinning, they've realized that I'm an 'easy' target and they've found me at the right moment. However they are big, and if what I've heard of the districts is right, they are useless when it comes to climbing. I'm smaller, more flexible, yes even with my thigh injury.

I have the advantage so I smile. "How's everything with you?" I call down, teasing. My voice is raspy and faintly I realize that this is maybe the first time I've really talked to anyone since I came into this arena. The careers are surprised by my cheek.

"Well enough," says the boy from District 2. "Yourself?" He plays along.

"It's been a bit warm for my taste." I answer. The laugh from the capital is almost seeable. It's the reaction I need, to make up for my panic attack. I take it a step farther. "The air's better up here. Why don't you come on up?" I asked, scaling another limb for show, and it sends a jolt of pain to my thigh that I ignore. I can't afford to let up now.

"Think I will." The boy said again. The girl moves forward.

"Here, take this." She said and my eyes zeroed in on the axe she handed him. It was my axe. How dare them. Do they really think that I can't dodge that? There is no way that they have as much experience with it that I do. Just the sight of my axe in their hands makes me angry. I want to jump down and rip it from their hands but I'm injured, and the cameras are no doubt on us. If I were to try and kill them, there are six of them, I'll with no hesitation be called out on it. How do I explain it? A little starved girl from District 12 murdering people who've trained for the Hunger Games all of their lives. I look to Peeta, but he's intentionally avoiding my gaze. It only makes me sneer.

"No," Cato says, dragging my attention back to the boy. He pushed away the axe. "I'll do better with my sword." I can see it now, short, heavy blade at his belt. When Cato begins climbing, already having trouble hoisting himself onto the branches I begin to climb higher. It makes my thigh burn with the heat of a thousand suns, as cliché as that sounds. Part of my expertise at this is practice. The other part is a little bit of…supernatural help. You have to know exactly where to plant your hands and feet, and how to tell when a limb is rotten on the inside.

I'm another thirty feet in the air when I hear the crack. Cato is flailing on the ground. I hope he broke his neck, but he didn't. The next second he's up and cursing a storm. Glimmer, as I hear the girl with the axe called, tries next, and fails but at least she had enough brain power to stop when the limbs begin to crack ominously. I'm at the very least, eighty feet high then the ground. At one point one of them, I can't tell which, tries to shot me with a bow, and it comes to my attention that she can't shot. In fact I'd say she's completely incompetent with it. She doesn't try the axe, probably a good thing if her bow and arrow skills are anything to go by. One of the arrows though lodges in the tree close to me and I teasing climb another foot to retrieve it, only to wave it above them.

I watched them group together, taking this time to cautiously make a seat out of one of the limbs. My thigh is burning but I don't know if I can touch it without it getting worse. The Careers are hissing at each other angrily, pissed that I've made them look stupid in front of the cameras. It was much easier than I thought it would be.

They are losing their window of opportunity and fast, as twilight approached over the hill. Finally I heard Peeta cruelly announce, "Just let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning."

He's right though. Even if I was able to climb down or get onto another tree I would probably fall to my death. The burn has come back full force, now without the water to sooth it. I manage to get into my sleeping bag and into a fork in the tree, with the belt keeping me in. It's impossible to rest though with the pain of the burn pressing on my mind. I tried to drizzle some water on it, but all it did was a short relief.

What does it matter if I make it through the night, what will happen in the morning? I'll be stalked by the Career and they'll only keep trying until they get a lucky shot. I tried to get my mind off of it. The foliage around me was dark and I could see nothing but a pair of eyes, most likely a possums if I knew anything.

But wait. I looked closer sitting up. Those aren't possum eyes. Those are human eyes. I can just make her out, with the help of the Career's torch and the light. Rue. Little Rue who helped us through the training, always quiet and affectionate. She reminded me so much of Prim that I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. How long had little Rue been there?

She un-tucked her little arms out from her balls she had made in her tree and pointed to something above me.

*It's pronounced Death, and it's one of her kids, from a story that I haven't made yet. It's on my list though, if you'll look at my poll. In case you want to know, if I do decide to make it Devth is the Joker's kid. Heath Ledger's Joker that is. ;D I just thought you guys deserved that kind of background about her. Don't worry none of her kids are going to miraculously appear in this story.

So what do you think? I loved it. I worked a lot to get it done. I'm trying to finish the story so I don't have anything holding me back. I'm actually considering not doing the Twilight one. I really have lost my love for that but maybe I can finish it. OR when the next part of Breaking Dawn comes out I can re-love it. Oh well. XD