Gaius leaps from pad to pad, making his way toward us, but he's not looking at me. At first I'm relieved that he doesn't see me, but it lasts only until I realize that his eyes are locked onto Lumen. Dread wells up inside me. I wonder if he has seen any of her traps. He is probably going toward what he thinks will be an easy kill, with Lumen weakened and nearly dead. I do not see anything that could be dangerous around the pad on which she is floating, but I know in my bones that the trap is there.

He lands heavily on the last pad before Lumen's, tensed for the final leap. But he does not jump right away. Instead he crouches for a few moments, watching, considering. His hand flexes around the grip of his club. Even if he has not seen any of the horrible traps or the poisoned food, it has got to seem strange that another tribute has practically gift-wrapped herself. Especially one whose pre-game score predicted that she wouldn't get past the Bloodbath. Gaius sighs. I want to scream, to warn him, but I can hear in his sigh that it wouldn't do any good. He is committed now, to life or death, either one, if not now then later. His muscles bunch and he springs, lifting the club to deliver a shattering blow.

Lumen's eyes pop open, seeing Gaius descending on her like a landslide. She shrieks a little and rolls to one side as his feet hit the pad. I see a gleam of metal. She holds a spearhead which has been broken from its shaft, but instead of using it in futile self-defense, Lumen plunges it into the airbag.

The entire top of the floating bag ruptures as the pressurized gas suddenly rushes out. Just as suddenly, the bag flips upside down. Gaius and Lumen both topple and fall. I rush to the edge of the meadow. Gaius is falling into the gorge and is swallowed by the darkness a moment later. I look up at the now deflated bag. Lumen is hanging from the underside, secured by a flimsy-looking cord of what seems to be material from her clothing interwoven with her own hair. She is trying to pull herself up onto the limp, still floating bag, without much success.

It is another ten seconds or so before the cannon shot booms through the cavern. My heart hears the anguished cries of the children from District 2, mourning the gigantic boy who traded them piggy-back rides for nuts.

At the sound of the cannon, Lumen stops struggling to climb, and looks at me. I had thought myself the predator in the weeds, but I see now that I have been marked as prey. Lumen smiles, a gesture that I am sure she intends the watching cameras to see as charming, but in person appears feral and unsettling.

Plush had told Chrome and me to never assume that tributes from poor districts were stupid or helpless just because they'd had no weapons training. Well, she has been more than proven right. Thinking of Plush reminds me of the train ride to the Capitol. She was so weary-looking, thin and drawn. I remember that she had always been drinking that nasty bittergreen tea. It occurs to me that I never saw her eat anything, not even once, during the entire time she was mentoring us.

Something falls into place in my brain. Plush wasn't eating…because she couldn't. She probably has no appetite left after her Victory, and sixteen years of mentoring tributes who often died in the Arena. Is that what the life of a Victor is like? I think of other Victors I've seen face to face or on television, right down to that bumbling drunkard from District 12. Not all of them carry burdens as obvious as his, but now that I think about it, none of them appeared to be wildly happy in their lives of riches and comfort.

The last daydream I had of bringing my family to a nice house in the Victors' Village fades and crumbles.

Lumen is still smiling, hanging from the punctured airbag as it drifts away from me. My desire to win is completely gone, but I'm surely not going to allow her to kill me. Unless I could do it convincingly, everyone would know that I let Lumen win. I'm not sure what effect that would have on my family, but I'm sure it would not be good. I want to somehow send them a message, without sending the same message to the Capitol. What can I do that my people will understand, but will seem meaningless to the rest of the audience?

Suddenly, I know what do to.

I drop to my knees and unsling my backpack. I take out the plastic bag of poisoned food that I had gotten from Callida as she lay dying. It doesn't take much acting skill to make myself look ravenously hungry, but I want to make sure the audience knows that I am. I spread one of the empty plastic bags that previously held dried fruit across the grass, and pour Lumen's fungus-laden raisins onto it.

I have to do this right. I close my eyes for a moment, and think of every beautiful thing I have ever been fortunate enough to eat. I arrange the dark raisins and light cubes into a pattern, as complex and attractive as I can. I can't take a whole lot of time, or someone's suspicions will be aroused that this is different from anything they've observed District 1 people doing before with their food. But I want to infuse this particular meal with meaning, for myself and for my District. After a minute or so, I am pleased with the results. Lumen watches intently as I begin to eat. The fungus has no taste, but it is very chewy. It is harder to eat than I thought it would be, knowing that swallowing it will mean my death, but I gather my discipline and eat it all.

Lumen starts to giggle, a high-pitched, wavering sound, with no humor in it. I think about Callida, and the way she looked before she died, and I wonder how much dying this way will hurt.

It is probably an hour before the stomach cramps begin.

The End

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