Luckily, the Gamemakers seemed to have decided that the initial bloodbath and the events that had occurred afterward were enough to keep the Capitol satisfied for at least a couple of days. We kept moving for the first day, journeying through the forest for at least four hours before deciding to make camp before nightfall.

"I'll set up a small fire before it gets too dark," Iris declared. "We should decide what we're doing about food before we move too far tomorrow."

"I don't want to waste our supplies unless we have to," I agreed with a nod. "I'll set up some traps and see if I can find something to shoot."

"The grounds quite damp, too," Myles added. "There must be water nearby. Should be able to find some fish." The three of us agreed to part ways for a while, while Layton sat by a tree trunk and said nothing. Noticing him, Myles shot me another dark look, but I still scowled back in warning before turning to set my traps.

I stayed away from the three of them for a good few hours, no longer than I would have done if I was out hunting with Erik and Eva back home, but now, I seemed to work harder. My eyes seemed sharper and my hearing more sensitive. Maybe it was because my life hung so delicately in the balance now, more so than ever before. I found myself moving on instinct rather than thought, trusting my own senses much more than I probably should have done in the circumstances.

Still, I managed to shoot what looked like a hare and a squirrel as the second hour away from the group was drawing to a close. Pleased with my work, I made my way back to the camp, circling around and setting traps with a fierce precision as I went. Hopefully, if any of the other tributes - or anything else that wanted to kill us - drew too close, the traps would let us know. Now that I wasn't hunting however, my mind began to whirl, and to my surprise, there was only one topic on my mind.

Troy and Juno.

Don't get me wrong, I hadn't come into the Games with the idea that I could remain squeaky clean in here. It was always going to be that at some point, someone out there was going to start to see me as a murderer. The girl that killed their son, or daughter, or sister, or brother, and there was no coming back from that now. Granted, I wasn't planning on walking away myself, but if I'd ever had the slightest doubt that killing someone would change me for the rest of my life - however short it may be - it was gone now. Now, there was an empty, gnawing feeling in my chest, as though I was trying to be traumatised by it, and the best protection my subconscious could give me was dulling it a fraction.

I caught myself spinning my crossbow in my hands anxiously, suddenly clamping my hand around it tightly and scowling to myself. There was no use thinking about that now. I had to focus. I had to keep Iris and Layton safe. The thought of both of them together, when only one could survive, made me sick with worry. Despite her tender age, I knew Iris could look after herself. My motivation for protecting her was instinct, something I'd been doing since she was five. Layton was another story. I was protecting him because I should. He was District 11, and that meant he was closest thing I had to family here. If I didn't stick by him, District 11 would become more dangerous for me than the Hunger Games.

By the time I was drawing close to our make-shift camp, however, all I could hear was raised voices. My hand clenched tightly around my crossbow, and I hesitated, scowling through the trees. I could make out Myles's furious growl, and Iris's insistent pleas, the only thing masking the worried whimpers Layton was making.

"Seriously?" I grumbled to myself angrily, lowering my weapon and stomping back toward the camp. Myles and Iris were scowling at each other, while Layton hovered as close to the trees as possible, watching the two of them argue cautiously. The anger in Myles's face was evident, and Iris wasn't far behind.

"You know I can hear you from half a mile away," I grumbled irritably as I moved back toward the camp.

Layton shuffled, immediately scanning the area in worry, but Myles only tightened his hand around his spear, storming toward me furiously. I felt my muscles tensing on the spot, but I didn't move, refusing to show any weakness. "This is on you," he growled, quiet enough not to be heard by Iris and Layton. The Capitol, however, had high-tech microphones, which meant everyone outside of this arena knew my loyalties were being tested to the limit. And that meant everyone was waiting to see which side I fell down on.

"What did he do to annoy you?" I frowned back.

Myles snorted, spinning his spear threateningly in his hands and I felt an eyebrow raise. "It's more what he can't do," he replied darkly. "I'll take first watch." He walked away to scan the perimeter before I could argue, ignoring Layton as best as he could. The boy himself shot me a look, and it was clear he was terrified. I wanted to say something, anything to put his mind at ease, but what could do that now? We were in the Hunger Games, and as much as I hated to admit it, Myles was right. He had to stop appearing so weak, or he was going to get us all killed.

So instead, I frowned back and shook my head a fraction, lowering myself to my knees by the camp fire Iris had built. "He'll be okay," Iris whispered to me with a small smile as I began preparing to meat for dinner. I could only manage a tight smile back, before turning my attention back to my task.

For the rest of the night, Myles paced anxiously around the camp fire, resting only long enough to eat his share of the food I'd cooked. Iris spent the night trying to comfort Layton and teach him how to use a knife to defend himself. I just sat back and watched, knowing from past experience that it was a lost cause.

A few hours into Myles's watch, the Capitol anthem sounded and I glanced up from my spot at the base of a tree to see the emblem being projected into the starry night sky. A small frown fell over my face, and I pulled my legs up against my chest, folding my arms over my knees and twirling Finnick's ring around it's chain. As I watched, an image of the District 12 girl who'd fallen from her plate flashed in front of us, immediately followed by her fellow 12 tribute Uriel. The next showed Amnesia, the girl from 10, and my eyes instantly dropped down to Iris, who was staring at her picture with shining eyes. My lips pursed, but I said nothing and looked up again. If Iris felt bad about killing Amnesia, it was nothing I didn't feel about the kids from 5. I only hoped she could get past it.

After Amnesia's face flickered out of view, the boy from 6, Gray, was frowning back at us. Then came Juno from 5 and my eyebrows tightened, my hand clamping around Finnick's ring. This is the Hunger Games, I told myself over and over again. This is what is supposed to happen. Still, there was nothing I could think or do to make myself believe they'd deserve it as Troy's face came next. The only other tribute to have fallen after that was Jenia from 1, and again, I felt the urge to ask Myles how he'd managed it. Then I wondered what Rory, the boy from 1, thought about all this. Would he miss Jenia? Would he even care? Something told me he wasn't going to let Myles get away with it, even if his revenge was only an act for the cameras. Shaking the thought away, I took a deep breath and wrapped my jacket around myself as I slipped into my sleeping bag. Whatever was coming tomorrow, I had to be ready.

Myles kept watch for a few more hours, before roughly waking me up so that he could get some sleep. Luckily, it was a quiet night, and despite keeping watching for more than five hours with my crossbow loaded and ready, nothing made a sound.

The next day was spent checking the traps I'd set to collect the animals I'd manage to catch. I'd done quite well and managed to get two rabbits, which Iris and I skinned and wrapped up to cook later in the day. With a small breakfast of the leftovers from yesterday, the four of us shouldered our bags and continued to move into the woods.

It was slow moving, and I knew Myles was getting more and more frustrated with Layton's unsteady movements. If he wasn't shuffling along at a snail's pace, he was crashing through the trees and making a horrendous amount of noise whenever he fell over. Even Iris kept looking back at me like she couldn't believe how utterly useless someone could be. Still, neither of them made a comment, continuing through the woods and trying to kill anything that moved.

It was while we were moving that Myles and I started to debate our strategy for the rest of the Games. "We can't just keep trampling through the woods," I mumbled sourly at him as we moved, Iris keeping close to Layton just ahead of us. If I was being honest, even I was starting to get a little impatient with his pace.

"Well, we have two options," Myles replied easily. "Either we hunt them down, or settle somewhere and let them come to us."

I didn't even have to think about it, shuddering slightly. "Hunt them," I agreed. "I am not sitting around and waiting for them to find us."

"It could give us an advantage," he pointed out. "If we knew the nearby layout better than they did."

"And if we waited too far away from the other tributes?" I asked. "The Gamemakers will force us into them to make it more exciting, and we'll be caught off guard. It's not worth the risk." Myles nodded once in agreement, spinning his spear in his hands.

But we'd barely been moving for another half hour when the rain started. One moment, there was nothing but clear skies, and then the next, it was pouring down so heavily, all four of us were suddenly soaked to the skin.

"Well," I exclaimed loudly over the sound of crashing water. "At least you can't hear Layton anymore!" Myles glowered at me, wiping the water from his eyes and stalking ahead. Rolling my eyes, I hurried to follow, catching up to them just in time to catch Layton's elbow before he slipped in the mud.

"We need to find shelter!" Iris yelled, holding her bag over her head in an attempt to remain dry. "We can't stay out here tonight, it's too cold!"

"It's not that bad," Myles dismissed immediately, though Layton shot me a look clearly asking me whether or not he was serious.

I sighed heavily. "Iris is right!" I called. "Right now, we need to focus on keep as healthy as possible, or we'll never have the upper hand when we find the others." He glowered, but I knew I'd hit the nail on the head. Myles would do anything to be the best in the arena, even if that meant being a little more patient than he would like.

So we kept trudging through the mud, looking for somewhere to get dry and keep warm. Myles and Iris went on ahead as I tried my best to keep Layton on his feet, and every time I caught him, he grew a little more uncomfortable, until finally, he snapped. "Stop!" he shouted at me as I straightened him out for the eighth time in the space of about fifteen minutes, pushing me away. I staggered a fraction, correcting myself automatically as he wavered on the spot.

"What are you doing, Layton?" I frowned loudly.

"You, Myles and Iris would be better off without me!" he exclaimed in frustration, scowling at his own feet.

I gawped, wiping stray strands of wet hair out of my eyes. "Layton, this isn't the time for a confidence crisis!" I snapped back. "I know it's frustrating, but-"

"But you don't!" he yelled back angrily. "You're from 4, how could you possibly know what it's like not to stand a chance?" My face dropped and my breath caught in my throat. He had basically summed up all my fears in one question, and there wasn't a single thing I could say to argue with him. I might have had a hard time in 11, but I'd spent long enough in 4 to know how to handle myself in the Games. I knew how to survive, and more importantly, I knew how to kill.

"Blake!" I turned to see Iris waving me toward her, still trying to shield herself from the rain. "Come on, we found shelter!"

I lifted a hand to show I had heard, glancing back at Layton. "Layton, we can sort this later," I insisted, stepping forward and taking his arm. "But please, we have to get to shelter. At least for tonight." He glowered at me indignantly. "Please, Layton." Slowly, he started forward, allowing me to help him toward Iris.

She and Myles had found a waterfall, that sounded even louder than the rain. A large stream ran out from the bottom, and Myles was stood beside the cliff face, where he'd found a cave about six feet up from the floor. As we stepped on to the rocks that made up the stream's banks, Layton yanked his arm out of my hold and marched ahead, determined to keep upright alone. I took a breath to complain, but held myself back, following after him cautiously.

"I've checked inside, looks safe," Myles told me as we neared. "Should keep us sheltered enough to keep a fire going to dry out our clothes and stay warm."

I nodded once. "Sounds good to me. Doesn't look like we'll be able to hunt anything else tonight."

"We've got enough for today and tomorrow, at a push," he responded with a troubled frown. "I wouldn't want to keep meat any longer than that anyway. The last thing we need is food poisoning."

"Good point," I conceded. "Let's get inside."

"I'll keep watch," he volunteered immediately, frowning as Layton struggled to climb into the cave. Sighing heavily, I moved forward and followed him into the cave, where Iris had already lit a fire and wrapped herself in her sleeping bag, with her clothes hung up beside the fire to dry out. Layton sat down opposite her, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up beside Iris's.

"Well," I sighed. "The rain's washed away any sign of the other tributes movements, so tracking them is going to take a lot longer now."

Iris glanced up at me with a small frown. "Can we not bait them out of hiding?"

"Probably," I grimaced. "A little riskier, but if it comes down to it, we might have to. For now, we should eat and wait out the rain." She nodded in agreement, and I shrugged my jacket and windbreaker off, shivering in the cold as I hung them up to dry beside Iris's. Kicking off my boots and socks too, I settled down to prepare one of the rabbits I'd caught that morning.

Once again, we ate in silence, Myles coming back into the cave long enough to collect his own food. "I'll stay out another few hours and come and get you," he told me.

"No, I'll do it," Layton interrupted, brushing himself off and standing up.

I choked as Myles went rigid, regarding him coldly. "You'll what?" I frowned. "Layton-"

"I'll shout if anything's wrong," he scowled at me. "But Myles is right. I can't sit around doing nothing, can I?"

I shot Myles an angry look, but he ignored me, eyeing Layton's expression. "Alright," he shrugged. "Stay until today's kills have been shown, then call Blake out." Layton nodded at him moodily, snatching his jacket back up and stalking toward the mouth of the cave.

Fists clenching, I stepped forward. "Are you crazy?" I hissed at Myles. "He can barely walk straight let alone defend himself!"

"You obviously think highly of him," he dismissed sourly. I glowered. "You think this much of everyone in 11?"

I started forward furiously before I could think about it, and Iris leapt up with a yelp. "Hey!" she complained, grabbing me by the waist and throwing all her weight into hauling me back a step. Myles glowered. "Blake, calm down!"

Shaking in anger, I stopped struggling without taking my glaring eyes off him. "Don't ever speak like that about them again," I snarled at him, my voice quivering in fury. "You hear me?"

He snorted. "You don't scare me, Hart," he snapped. "And if you think so much of 11, why make such a fuss of 4?"

"I wasn't making a fuss," I retorted coolly. "I told people where I was from. That's it."

"Which made a hell of a fuss," he pointed out with a scowl. "And you're wearing Finnick's ring."

I froze and Iris scoffed beside me, moving to look at the chain around my neck. "Oh my god, you are!" she breathed, wide eyed. "Where did you get that?"

Shifting awkwardly, I tried to relax my expression but it was a lot harder than I thought it should have been. "Where do you think? He gave it to me."

"Why?" she blinked. I shrugged wordlessly, and she shook herself roughly, managing a small smile. "Well, you were born in 4, right? If you hadn't had to leave, he'd have been your mentor, so I guess it makes sense."

My stomach twisted. He should have been, two years ago. But I couldn't say that. I couldn't point out that I should have been a District 4 tribute instead of Annie Cresta. "But I did leave," I answered quietly. "And for your information, Myles, the people in District 11 are some of the best, most hard-working people I know. They're the ones that kept me alive for the past two years."

"And who kept you alive the rest of your life?" he spat back.

"Who taught me to kill?" I bit back before I could stop myself.

"Not such a bad thing now, is it?" he growled furiously. I stared back, so mad it had rendered me speechless, and a small part of me thought that maybe that was a good thing. We were treading on dangerous ground, and if the Capitol cameras caught me saying something that I shouldn't be . . . I thought of Erik and Eva back home, and my parents in 4 and Cyra and Beckett, Chaff, Seeder, Circa, Klaus . . . even my mother, Ione. I don't know what the Capitol had put her through as punishment when she evicted me from 4, but the least I could do was bite my tongue long enough to repay the favour.

"I loved District 4," I muttered under my breath, staring into the fire. "Still do, and always will. But it will always be the place I lost my family. Both of them. I'm not going to apologise for that."

Iris and Myles said nothing for a moment, blinking at me in surprise. Honestly, I wasn't sure where it came from myself, but it was the truth. Or at least, the closest I could get to the truth with words. Shaking herself roughly, Iris moved closer and wrapped her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. "We know," she murmured. "We understand. Everyone does."

Myles frowned in the background, his eyes locked fiercely on mine. With the shortest nod of his head, he turned and settled down against the wall of the cave to sleep. Blinking hot tears out of my eyes, I hugged Iris back tightly. "Thank you," I whispered.

Iris pulled back, smiling sadly. "You should get some sleep. You're on watch soon." I nodded at her with a grimace, settling down opposite her and Myles for some sleep.

My dreams were a twisted mixture of past memories and nightmares of what might come. Some included my parents, or Iris and Myles, or Eric, Eva, Cyra and Beckett. The worst parts were of Ione, Chaff and Seeder, and heavily featured Ezra Snow as the man behind all of my problems. The man that wanted me dead.

I jolted awake at the sound of my own name being hissed softly by my ear, and automatically my hand snatched around the hilt of a knife. Layton leapt back in fear, his eyes wide. "It's your turn," he gulped, pointing toward the mouth of the cave.

I took a ragged breath, heart hammering as I pushed myself upright slowly and scanned the cave. My eyes dropped to the knife in my hands and I forced my fingers to release it. "Sorry," I mumbled, running the hand through my hair. "Don't creep up on me like that."

He held his hands out in surrender. "I'm sorry, I - I won't do it again."

"Forget about it," I yawned, pushing myself to my feet. Snatching up my crossbow, I spun it in my hands and stretched out, shrugging on the now bone dry jacket. "Get some sleep. I'll wake everyone at dawn."

I left Layton to get settled for sleep and moved around to the mouth of the cave, where I could see the rain had finally stopped. Outside, all I could hear was the sound of crashing water. Hesitating only a moment, I knelt down and jumped out of the cave, landing with bent knees on the grass outside. The first thing I noticed was the cold, night wind across my skin, and for a second, I closed my eyes and let it blow away the thought of the nightmares.

Something rustled in the bushes to the left, and immediately my eyes snapped open, my hands locking in a bolt in my crossbow and lifting it to shoulder height. Every muscle in my body tightened in anticipation as the rustling continued. Slowly, it got louder and louder and my finger slipped over the trigger.

A boy of no more than fourteen staggered out of the bush, covered in blood with a manic look in his eyes. At the sight of me, he skidded to a halt, shaking all over. My eyes narrowed, and though I couldn't remember which District he was from, I knew it must have been one of the lower ones. Just as I took a breath to ask who he was and what he was doing, he dropped to his knees wearily, like he couldn't carry on, and silent tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Kill me," he whispered, and my face fell. "Please. Please kill me. D-Don't let him-" He cut off with a terrified sob, and before I could think about it, I lowered my crossbow and strode toward him. I wasn't sure how to describe the emotions rushing through me at the sight of him, but it set me on edge. Something felt wrong. Seriously wrong, and this boy was the only one who knew what it was. Automatically, he flinched away from me as I neared, but I wasn't taking no for an answer, grabbing his upper arm and hauling him toward the water, pushing him in waist deep and climbing in after him.

"Keep still," I ordered, my voice catching in the back of my throat as I scooped water into my hands to wash the blood off his skin and out of his hair. As the blood drained away, it revealed small, deep cuts all over his body, often paired with bruises or burns. They were never anything serious, nothing life threatening, but they would have hurt. A lot. It was almost as if someone had been purposely holding back. But that would mean . . . I shuddered furiously, pushing the thought away quickly.

"Kill me," he kept pleading quietly, shaking in fear. "Please." I ignored him, gulping down the hard lump in my throat and continuing until he was clean. Then I dragged him back to the shore, dragged my sleep bag off the cave edge, and wrapped him in it tightly before kneeling down beside him.

I hesitated, thinking about what I was going to ask and how forceful to be. I wasn't sure what could be going on, and part of me was too scared to think about it too much. Some of the things I'd seen happen in the Hunger Games before . . . But if this kid was begging me to kill him even, after he'd escaped whatever it was . . . I shook the thoughts away with a shiver. "What's your name?" I started.

He shivered, looking up at me in surprise. "Davi," he whispered back. "From 9. You're Blake Hart from 4, aren't you?"

I grimaced. "11," I corrected. "4 originally. Where's your fellow tribute?"

He shook his head furiously, shivering in fear. "Still there," he choked, staring at his feet. "Still have her."

Staring at him, I ignored the shivers rushing over my skin. "Who still has her?"

He looked up at me, his mouth opening to answer, but a cannon suddenly fired overhead and he ducked. I went rigid, lifting my crossbow again and scanning the area, but just as I'd decided it was safe, Davi whimpered and scrambled out of the sleeping bag, crashing through the stream and racing toward the other side. "Hey!" I called. "Wait!" But he'd already gone.

I stared after him for a long time, wondering what to do next. I wanted to chase after him and find out what was going on, but I couldn't leave the others. Still, I found it took a few moments to move, watching my own breath hang in the air in front of me. Finally, I snatched my sleeping bag off the floor and slowly made my way back to the cave entrance, climbing back up and settling down with a frown.

"Something's wrong," I whispered to myself, knowing the cameras were still latched onto my every word.