A/N: Last chapter for awhile because I'm going on a little vacation (you have no idea how much I need a break from these kids).
The first night in the arena passed without further event beyond tending to Derek's wounds from the Cornucopia, though Emily was pretty sure his nose would never be quite the same as it now had a pronounced bend to the left.
She slept very little that night, her mind replaying the scenes of gore she'd witnessed. And while she'd never been wildly thrilled about the Games, she still felt somehow responsible for never having done anything to stop it. Every year she'd endured the propaganda of the Capitol explaining why the Games were a necessity and why they continued to have them in order to discourage any subsequent troublemakers from getting ideas. Still, she'd heard whispers around the Capitol for years about rebellion and she'd never done anything to help Matthew – she'd never even asked him if he was part of it.
The next day was equally uneventful; they stayed in the relatively secluded lean-to they'd built in the thickest undergrowth of the forest where it crept up the mountain-side while Derek convalesced. She was starting to worry that he might have a concussion and she just didn't have time to wait for him to heal from a brain injury.
On the bright side, she hoped that perhaps the careers might thin out the playing field a little. The sky that night, though, showed no additional deaths. Emily had personally talked to several Gamemakers during her years of attending Hunger Games parties and celebrations and she knew how much delight they took in their special personally-designed weapons. She wanted to move their camp that night, but Derek's eye was still swollen shut and he didn't have particularly great night-vision to begin with so they were forced to wait until morning.
But by first dawn, it was already too late – the mountain peaks had disappeared in a thick grey-green cloud that had settled in overnight. The colour and thickness announced that they were no natural clouds.
Derek tried to convince her that there was no reason to be anxious, that they were just in for a regular rainstorm, but she was convinced there was cause for alarm. And as the first drops fell and the vegetation around them started melting, it became clear who was right.
After almost six hours of rain, things finally stopped melting and, though the tarpaulin they'd procured from the Cornucopia seemed to have been somehow fortified against the acid rain, all their supplies and food sources had been completely destroyed, as was their chance to search the arena to see if anything remained unharmed seeing as darkness was already starting to percolate around the edges of the sky.
That night, the sky showed that Districts Five and Ten had both lost their male tributes, which Emily suspected was no accident.
Emily threw herself into the underbrush as the crunch of footsteps over dead leaves approached. She held her breath as she lay on her stomach, watching for the approacher's boots to pass by, trying very hard not to think about what might be crawling through the carpet of decaying plant matter surrounding her.
It was a slight advantage, the years of formal dance training her mother had forced her to endure for propriety's sake worked in her favour, making her considerably more fleet of foot than many of the other tributes. That, and the fact that she had taken to wearing three pairs of socks instead of her boots during her food scavenging missions to make her footsteps less noticeable.
The footsteps slowed as they got closer and then stopped completely directly in front of her, forcing her to wonder if she hadn't been seen. She nearly cursed out loud when the approacher didn't continue on past, but sat down a few feet in front of her, as if to make camp.
If she didn't return to their camp by nightfall, Derek would come looking for her, meaning that Matthew and Cindi would be exposed, since Derek would never leave them alone if it weren't absolutely necessary. And while she didn't know exactly who was stationed outside her hiding spot, she was sure that she didn't want to be the reason that her friends came face to face with them.
"I don't want to be waiting out here in the open all night, Love, especially since it looks like rain," a voice said, causing her heart to stop for what felt like far too many beats. "Let's both stop pretending I don't know you're in there."
'I there any chance I could just take off running in the opposite direction without being pursued?'she wondered. Adrenalin caused her to shiver slightly as she fished her knife out of her belt, then belly-crawled out from under a tangle of thorns.
"Put that away, G.I. Jane," the voice told her lazily, "I don't want to hurt you."
"That's exactly what someone who wanted to hurt me would say," she replied matter-of-factly, raising a brow.
"Ian," he introduced himself with a grin, easing her knife out of her grip. "Ian Doyle. District Two."
"What do you want?" she asked, making no effort to be friendly.
He laughed a little at her attempt to be threatening. "Is that any way to speak to someone who holds their life in their hands?"
"If you're going to kill me, just do it," she said, starting to walk away, knife in hand or not.
"Who said I wish to kill you?" He smiled and it simultaneously made her legs tremble in fear and made her stomach flip-flop in a sickeningly school-girl way. "It would be foolish to kill such an interesting individual without first picking your brain a little."
For some reason, she felt mildly triumphant that he found her interesting. Even though she had no idea who he was or why he spared her more than a second glance.
She didn't realize she had stopped in her tracks until she felt his arm wrapping around her shoulders, turning her back the way she'd just come. "Stick around, won't you? I've got a sponsor gift of hot food waiting for us..."
She glanced back in the direction of their camp, biting her lip in thought; torn. She really should be getting back...but her stomach seemed to be overpowering her at the thought of a real meal (for days, they'd had nothing but what they could scavenge and Emily Prentiss was not a girl who was used to going hungry).
She let him continue to lead her farther from where her friends were waiting for her to return with dinner. It felt a little like she was betraying them, to eat without them while their stomachs were growling and worry for her safety hovered at the forefront of their thoughts. Especially when she was in the company of someone who would probably kill them just as soon as look at them (he was from District Two, afterall). But he didn't seem in a hurry to kill her and she really wanted a hot meal, so she decided to be wary, but trust him nonetheless.
"I'm Emily, by the way," she finally found her tongue when she realized that he'd told her his name, but she'd neglected to do the same.
He laughed a little – a genuine sound, but with just a little condescension. "I know who you are. The whole country knows who you are...perhaps you haven't realized yet, Love, the overnight celebrity you've become."
"That's ridiculous," she scoffed.
"Is it?" he challenged, casting a backwards glance at her, brow raised. But he left it at that, probably because saying anything more on his part would be considered incendiary.