Thank you to anyone who's read so far. Reviews are always appreciated.

A section in this chapter has been adapted from Caisha702's fabulous fic A Fox's View. If anyone hasn't read it, I highly recommend you do.

That's about it. Enjoy the chapter.

Vincent is dead. That's the first thing I register when I look up into the sky. I didn't know District Three at all, and I'm surprised the boy survived. District Four's dead boy is old news – and the only good Career is a dead Career. District Five's survived girl is as predictable as their dead boy. Both of District Six died, but I can't say I didn't see that coming. Ditto for District Nine.

It's only the first day, and already eleven tributes are dead. It's so… sudden. I mean, I was eating lunch in the same room as them only a few days ago. I didn't even know them very well, but I still knew them. And what about Kyra? We didn't get on very well, but she was still Kyra. I knew her better than I knew any of the others. We went to school together. Sure, I barely even noticed her until we were both picked at the Reaping, but she was in Nan's year.

And what about Vincent? I only knew him for a few days, but he was the closest thing to a friend I had here, and now he's gone. It seems that even his charm wasn't enough to help him survive the first day. What was he thinking, running off into the Cornucopia? I though Vince was smarter than that. He must have seen some kind of weapon that would be his difference between living and dying, but didn't get there in time. That's probably why Kyra died too. I remember seeing her eyeing up that flail back when we were still on our metal plates.

I crawl under a bush to spend the night. It's not the safest or most comfortable place I can find, but I can't climb and it's better than sleeping out in the open. Soon it becomes bitterly cold and I curl up into a ball, trying to conserve body heat. The jacket helps a bit, but not anywhere near as much as it's supposed to. I really want to light a fire, but I'm not stupid. I know that to do so will be suicide. So I just curl up tighter, grit my teeth and try to bear it.

I think I manage to doze off for about an hour. When I wake up, it's still dark but I see this reddish glow on the horizon. Some idiot actually started a fire. I can't believe it. Luckily, they're quite far away from here. So this should be good for me. It'll lure the Careers far away from here.

I wait for about another hour and nothing happens. Maybe the idiot'll actually get away with it! Then there's a blast from the canon. Or maybe not.

Soon it gets light, and I crawl out of the bush, stretching stiff limbs. The bush was a pretty good hiding place, but extremely uncomfortable. I reach up to pull leaves and mud out of my hair then decide against it. Considering my abysmal results in camouflage, this might be the closest I get to blending into the environment. And if I'm not photogenic, so what? Will it hurt the Capitol's sensitive little eyes?

Yes, I'm bitter. What, for no reason? They just killed off two of my semi-friends and nine –woops, sorry, ten – living, breathing people. And chances are they'll kill me off soon as well. If not me, then eleven more human beings.

Sure, I should be angry at the Careers too. After all, they probably killed every single one of those people. Or most of them. It was Thresh or Katniss (they're the two strongest non-Careers) or maybe Peeta who killed Arturo. After all, why would they agree to ally with him if he hadn't proven himself somehow? And why would Varia kill her district partner? And why would Clove or Cato or District One kill off a possible ally this early in the Games?

I go through my supplies again. There's the plastic sheet and the stick. The water bottle, which will need refilling by the end of the day, and the bottle of idodine. And what remains of my food. I eat a few pieces of dried fruit and half the bread, which leaves me with some crackers, a mostly full packet of dried fruit, half a bread bun and a couple of handfuls of berries.

I'd probably better go see if I can find some more food. This won't last me forever, and now that the Careers (who else would have killed that tribute?) are over at the other side of the Arena I should be more or les undisturbed. Everyone else should be like me – hiding and not looking for a fight. The others will probably be further away from the Cornucopia than I am.

So I set off. I head to a clearing I know is full of edible berry plants. It shouldn't be too far from here, although going down there will be going closer to the Cornucopia and the rest of the action. After I've stripped the plants clean, I plan on heading further out round the side of the lake, to see what the territory is like there.

Every Games, most tributes carve out a niche for themselves. Their territory, so to speak. Mine is the forest on the side of the lake, away from the Careers. Their own territory is the grassy lakeside by the Cornucopia. I don't know where everyone else is, but I'm not expecting to bump into anyone this close to the Careers' territory.

Which is why I get such a shock when I hear footsteps behind me. I freeze up, but don't turn around. Better to make them think I haven't heard them. After all, if they have long distance weapons, they'd have killed me by now. My grip tightens on my stick. I count the footsteps. The element of surprise is my only hope in a one on one confrontation. I'll have to wait till they're close enough, then lash out and run for it. If I just run now then they can catch up – a non crippled runner always beats a cripple, no matter how fast that cripple is.

But if I manage to wind them first… then I have enough of a head start to get away from there and hide. So that's what I'm hoping to do. The footsteps get closer, closer. Soon I'll strike…

Then they stop. A female voice rings out.

"I could have killed you by now, you know."

I spin around. No point in pretending I don't know she's there anymore. It's the red-haired girl from District Five. Lysandra, that was her name.

"Why haven't you then?" I ask her, unable to fully keep my bitterness out of my voice. "Have you been missing the whole point of the Hunger Games for all these years?"

She stares at me, stunned. After a few seconds she speaks again.

"I would have thought you would be grateful that I spared your life. I could have been one of the Careers, you really should be more careful."

"I don't owe you anything, Lysandra," I tell her, resorting back to my old fake-limp routine and walking away from her. Best to let her know I've been keeping tabs on her.

She says nothing, so I continue: "I'm not as easy to kill as you think."

"I crept up on you easily enough then," she replies. I can see her annoyance on her fox-like face.

"You were lucky," I say. I don't want to give away all my secrets, like the fact I knew she was there, do I?

Lysandra laughs. "I think that you are the lucky one, Lucas," she says, letting me know that she knows my name too, and that I'm not the only one who has been monitoring the opposition carefully.

"Maybe this time," I concede with a slight smile. "That doesn't mean that I owe you any favours."

"I never said that you did."

"Then I'll go this way and you go that way, and we'll pretend this conversation never happened."

I turn to walk away without waiting for a response. If she wanted to kill me, she would have already done so.

"If you like," she says, but calls after me barely two seconds later. "How do you manage in here? I mean with your leg the way it is."

I roll my eyes. I was just getting to respect her, and then she had to blow it. Typical. I turn to stare at her, trying to decide what she's thinking. She doesn't look away.

"It's my foot that's crippled, not my brain. I've been adapting to it my whole life, so why should this be any different?" I tell her eventually, a touch angry.

Logically, I should be proud that everyone underestimates me. But who said feelings were logical?

"I don't mean…I didn't mean to patronise you. I am just surprised that you have avoided the Careers for so long. They are not stupid this year." Surprisingly she seems sincere, if a touch cocky.

"I've avoided them by not being stupid either. You don't have a monopoly on intelligence, District 5."

She nods to me, conceding the point. "I didn't mean to be arrogant, I'm just surprised, that's all. I underestimated you."

Good. My plan worked. And she's definitely sincere. "Good luck, Lysandra."

"Good luck," she replies.

I turn and limp back into the trees in the opposite direction from where I was headed, waiting until I'm sure she can't see me to drop the over exaggerated limp.

I respect her, and if I had the chance to know her better, I'd probably like her. If she'd been born in my District, I have a feeling we'd have been friends. I smile, imagining the possibilities that could come with having a third person as part of our acting troupe. Ren and I do – did – great, but there are so many possibilities open when another person is added to the mix.

If I can't win these Games, I find myself hoping for her to win. Rather have a sane victor than any of the Careers, and so far, other than Vincent, she's the only other tribute who I find myself respecting.

As night falls, I find myself crawling under a similar bush than the one I had to put up with yesterday. It's a bit closer to my part of the lake – I've resolved not to let it out of my sight often, so that I don't run the risk of dehydration.

Before I fall asleep, I fill up my now-depleted water bottle with lake water and purify it with a few drops of iodine, praying I remembered how to do it correctly. A handful or two of berries is hastily eaten before I bundle my supplies back up in the plastic and attach the water bottle to my back. I want to be ready to move if anything happens.

When I wake up, I eat a few of the crackers and the rest of the berries I collected yesterday. Today I need to restock my supplies of food. My explorations up-lake yesterday didn't find much of anything that looked edible, so I decide return back into the more dangerous territory closer to the Cornucopia and the other tributes where I know there are edible plants.

Again, not everything goes to plan. When I get close to the edge of the grassy lakeside stretch the Careers have claimed as their own I notice that they have returned, and that they are preparing to go tribute hunting again. Crap.

I quietly sneak out of sight of the Cornucopia and then sprint for all I'm worth diagonally, away from the edge of the trees and yet back towards my safe zone. I've seen no signs of any other tributes back there so it seems the optimal place to head. But I also need food, so I keep my eyes peeled for any edible plants I can find.

After a few minutes I slow down to a jog and about half an hour later I judge that it's safe to walk. I've stopped at what looks like a blueberry bush and am about to eat some when I hear a voice.

"You don't want to eat that," says the unknown tribute. It's a girl's voice, and she doesn't sound like Lysandra. It's either Rue or Katniss – any of the female Careers would have killed me by now.

I spin around. Indeed, the tribute I find myself facing is Rue. She stands on the tips of her feet, poised to flee. In her hands she clutches a homemade slingshot, loaded and ready to fire.

Calmly, I pull the plastic bundle off my stick and spin it in my hands. Rue is probably the only tribute I have a chance of beating in a fair fight, especially if I have the element of surprise. But I don't want to fight her, I discover in some surprise.

"Why shouldn't I?" I ask her, fearing that I already know the answer. "They're just blueberries, aren't they?"

She shakes her head, still not completely relaxed. Smart girl. "They're Nightlock. Poisonous. You don't want to eat them."

Is she lying? After all, telling me some berries are poisonous would be a way to get one food supply all to herself – and it looks like she has about as many supplies as I do.

"Why are you helping me?" I ask her. "Wouldn't it be smarter to just let me eat them?"

She shrugs. I guess she doesn't know why. Looking at her, her body poised to flee, I am hit by a sense of just how young this girl is. Made older by watching the Games every year, perhaps, but still very young. Too young to stand by and watch someone die, regardless of if they're enemy or friend. And that… that will be what kills her in the end, I think.

A wave of anger flows through me, but of a different sort than the one I usually get when I think of Rue. Why should the Capitol have the right to kill this girl, still a child, just because of something her ancestors may or may not have taken part in? Who died and made them gods?

I'm about to say something, but then Morgan's face appears in my minds eye. I remember an incident that occurred during the second or third night of training.

Kyra and Morgan were talking in hushed voices – I don't remember about what. Suddenly Kyra said something strongly anti-Capitol. Again, I don't remember exactly what. But what I do remember clearly was the look on Morgan's face.

It looked so… old, I guess. I suppose I'd never fully appreciated Morgan's age, but she must be in her forties at least. I remember her face clearly – the black hair, streaked with grey bits I'd never noticed before; the pale skin, lined and looking far older than I'd previously thought. And most of all, the black eyes. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and Morgan's eyes, usually blank and shuttered with lack of emotion, revealed such a look of pain I had to look away. What has the Capitol done to her?

Remembering where I am, I shoot back into the present day. Great. I'm stuck in the middle of a forest with a twelve year old girl who is supposed to be trying to kill me but somehow instead saved my life. Talk about awkward.

Know I need to say something, so I do. "Uh… thanks for the warning, I guess. I'd best be going soon. You know how it is… food to hunt, Careers to escape…"

At least that gets a smile out of her. "You're welcome. What's your name, by the way? I'm Rue."

"Lucas."

"Oh. Well, I'd say I'd be seeing you around, but I won't will I?"

I shake my head. "Nope. Sorry. Farewell, Rue." I turn to leave and then pause. "And good luck."

"Good luck, Lucas."

The rest of the day passes in what can only be called peace, or as much as is possible in the Arena. I manage to find a few more berries to replenish my supplies, although even with them I can tell I'm not eating properly. I've always been naturally skinny, and the small layer of fat I managed to put on in the Capitol has been and gone. I'm even skinnier than usual. What's even more worrying is the fact that I'm running out of berries I remember from training, and as my encounter with Rue demonstrated earlier, what I don't know could kill me.

When the anthem plays the sky shows no deaths, as expected. I didn't hear a cannon shot today. This is bad – it means that the audience will be getting bored. And when they Capitol gets bored, it means that they kill off tributes.

At night I go through my usual routine, dividing up my supplies, refilling my water bottle and eating some of my precious food, before curling up under a bush to try and conserve body heat. The jacket seems to be doing its work – none of my exposed areas seem to be exposed to enough cold to freeze them more than what an hour in my pockets once the sun has gone up won't fix. This aside, they do turn a worrying shade of blue tonight.

Hang on a second… blue? It takes my cold-muddled mind a minute to realise what it's seeing. But it's too early to be dawn – unless I've managed to get a decent sleep for once. I climb out of the bush to check, stretching my aching limbs.

Sure enough, it's dawn. But that's not what worries me the most. There's a huge black cloud of smoke billowing off from the forest in the distance. Now there's not much forest back in District Ten – we're up in rocky mountainsides, where there's practically nothing that can grow other than grasses. But I'm not stupid. I can guess what that cloud of smoke means, and it's not good news.

Forest fire. Oh crap. This is bad. Very, very bad.