A/N: Whoa. This one took an unexpected twist. And you see the amazing power of reviews! Okay, so it just amounted to a random paragraph here, but don't worry! Please comment on any tributes you want--well, preferably the ones we think are alive--or just comment!

I now have one minute to examine the field. The Cornucopia is right at the center, as always, but between it and the tributes is a grove of relatively short bamboo-weeds.

It's one of the failed muttations of the Capitol. It was originally designed to be hollow like bamboo, and contain some sort of poison from the weed. They had thrown a few in District 4, and they popped up everywhere before the Capitol found its errors. It ended up just being a very odd sort of bamboo; a two-year-old could split it with a sideways hit, but you could pile a hundred-pound catfish as well as the two-hundred-pound man who caught it on top without the bamboo-weed breaking.

They're normally quite tall, but the bamboo-weeds around me are of various heights. They're on their standard ground—a marshy mud with a foot or so of dirty water above it.

Further outside the circle of tributes is a concentric circle of massive clusters of mangroves, most of their roots as high as their lowest branches. Further off in one direction is a wide cliff, and I can't see enough to make out what's in the other directions.

Aware of the ticking clock, I turn my attention back to the Cornucopia and its immediate surroundings. I can see a javelin, shiny purple and pointed to perfection. Just for me.

But I know I couldn't possibly get in and out of there without getting killed, so I look at the items closer to me. About a foot away from my circle is a large, black shade that would be useful against this beating sun.

But dangerously close to the Cornucopia, atop a few bamboo-weeds of the same height, is a six-pack of water bottles wrapped in plastic. In this arena, clean water's not going to be easy to find; everything is some shade of brownish gray, and starting a fire here to boil it will attract too much attention. It's so close to the Cornucopia, and it's surrounded by tributes on all sides. I am a good runner, but how could I…?

Boom! Just as I'm starting to get a strategy, I hear the explosion. Someone has tried to step off his plate early. I look at the remains and realize the boy standing in that spot was Sunil.

He knew he was going to die. He just wanted to choose how.

And then, the gong sounds, and I'm sprinting through the shallow water toward the bottles. I pass the sun shade and a jacket I certainly won't need in this weather, as well as a large canvas bag that I don't slow down to pick up. I snatch the water bottles and jump up on top of its former holders, then up and up on a winding, wobbling staircase of bamboo-weeds until I'm up on top of the Cornucopia.

I take only a second to catch my breath and analyze the scene: the mouth is in chaos, and if I wait any longer, I'm sure to get impaled. So I turn to the other side, flying off the tail of the golden horn, landing with one foot on someone's head, and tumbling over into the muck. I struggle up quick as I can, already darting off before I let myself cough up the muddy, gritty mixture.

I keep running over roots for a few more minutes, and by then I'm exhausted. I look around wildly, but it doesn't seem that anyone has bothered to follow me. I'm still far from safe, though, so I go ahead and climb up into a tangle of branches before settling down and spitting out the last of the mud.

I cling to the water bottles gratefully. I made it out with them, somehow; either my strategy was so utterly stunning no one dared to approach me—yeah, right—or I just got off lucky.

Well, I only got a 6 in training, so I'm not going to be at the top of their threat list now. Maybe they'll just let me live a while as part of their own strategy.

As long as I'm alive, anything works for me.

I think I sit there for a good hour, choking down the breakfast rolls that seem determined to find their way back out of my throat, before I hear a root snap. I flinch, drawing my legs close to me and clutching my water bottles to my chest.

It's hard to see through the mess of branches and leaves, but it looks like Phemus is making his way through the arena alone. He's not being quiet about it, either: I hadn't noticed, since Odyss was indisputably the tallest, but Phemus is quite tall himself. It's a bad impairment when you have to navigate through a tight tangle of wood. And the curses coming from him show his knowledge of that.

It looks like he must have gotten in and out of the Cornucopia: he's got a long slash down his back, and a large ax in one hand.

I hold my breath—even a near-silent puff of air may disclose my location—but he's swearing and stomping and slashing around so noisily I don't think he'd hear me if I screamed bloody murder up here.

I do manage to go unnoticed, and I settle back into a relatively comfortable crook in the branches for a while longer.

It's somewhere past noon now, I think; the sun's glaring so much I can hardly stand to glance at it. I wonder if everyone's gone from the Cornucopia already. I've since heard nine cannons fire in a row—one for Sunil, and eight more gone—so the killing is obviously over. Hopefully no one is trying to make a camp there…

I shift my position, pointing my feet toward where the Cornucopia should be. I don't have the world's best sense of direction, but the mangroves are thinner in that direction, and they sure didn't seem to thin out further away from the Cornucopia when I was there.

I take a deep breath and start to slip out of the tree, branch by branch, and I've climbed down two sets of roots before I'm on a manageable ground level. It's hard maneuvering when my hands are occupied, but there's no chance I'm leaving this water behind.

The mangroves thin out one by one, and I can soon see the Cornucopia in the distance. It doesn't look like anyone's there, but the bamboo-weeds are decent vision-blockers. I go ahead and slink in a little further, but there's still no sign of anything living, so I continue a bit more quickly.

I pass one of the metal circles now, and I can tell now that no one is here. The area's been predictably sucked dry of goodies, and I find an unobstructed path to the Cornucopia easily.

I can smell the blood in the water. See it splotched over the mouth of the Cornucopia as I approach. I try not to think about how the patterns could have formed. I really don't want to.

With a final check to make sure no one is around, I slink inside of the empty Cornucopia. Neither Oakley nor Maddox has arrived. They shouldn't have run into trouble; neither would have been stupid enough to get involved in the bloodbath, and there haven't been any other deaths since then. They're just taking a while to get here, I guess. Making sure they don't run into trouble. Makes sense.

I sit for a few minutes before I start to get weary of the constant watch. And the large blind spot the Cornucopia makes isn't helping. I slink out of the horn carefully, but no one is there to see me.

The wind's picked up now; the bamboo-weeds are swaying to the zephyrs as they come, and a new surge of panic rushes over me every time a few of my curls fly in front of my eyes.

A large, black blur zooms through my visual field, making me duck behind the Cornucopia. But when I dare to look, it's just the sun shade, now wedged in a taller patch of bamboo-weeds. I guess no one imagined it would be of any use when some patches of trees are so dense even the midday light doesn't pierce them.

I walk up to it tentatively once I've determined that it's not some sort of trap, thrown by a disguised tribute as a piece of bait to lure me in. I've laid hands on it, and still, no one arrives, so I pick it up experimentally. It's extremely lightweight, but I don't think I'll have any more use for it than any other tribute, and I don't want to be lugging anything unnecessary around, no matter how light. I'm still not sure; I may find use for it, but it doesn't even fold, so I leave it be and slink back toward the Cornucopia.

I duck under it just enough to keep in the shade and out of the wind for a while, and then I hear a distinct snap. I flinch, and, realizing the Cornucopia would only trap me, dart out into the open air, opposite where I heard the bamboo-weed's breaking. I just peep my eyes over the horn, and to my relief, it's Oakley.

I stand up straighter, showing myself but not wanting to risk any sort of show. She's seen me, and picks up the pace a bit as she sloshes through the water.

"Good to see you alive," she comments, putting her back against the Cornucopia.

"You, too," I reply quietly, taking another glance around the circle of bamboo-weeds. "Do you know where Maddox is?"

"Dead." She doesn't look at me as I rush over to her side of the Cornucopia.

"D-Dead?" I stutter. "Already? But how…?"

Oakley grimaces, putting her hands on the very small, bright yellow canvas bag over her waist. "We agreed to go for either the closest or second-closest item to each of our plates. This was second… But there were two loaves of rye bread one circle closer on his row…" She trails off.

I can fill in the blanks myself.

"Is that what you were headed for?" she asks suddenly, changing the topic with a finger pointed at the water bottles in my hands.

I nod. "It was kind of reckless, but I guess I must have been quick enough." It's hard to talk about my mad dash without saying something to insult Maddox.

"Well, one way or another, we've got it now." She looks up at the cloudless sky for a moment. "Let's find somewhere easier to hide."

"Good idea." I let her lead the way into the tangles of branches, and we hike for a good half an hour before we allow ourselves rest.

I tentatively dig into my six-pack of water, taking out one bottle and sharing small sips with Oakley. We've drained it halfway through when I hear a loud bang!

I hurriedly scale a tree and look around wildly. Oakley is still just standing there, screwing the lid back on the bottle.

"What—"

"That was just a cannon, by the way," she tells me with a sly smile.

"Oh. Uh, I knew that…" I reply sheepishly, climbing back down slowly.

Oakley chuckles and leans back against a trunk. I look up at the sky, trying to figure out the placement of the sun above the leaves and branches. I think the light is dimming, so it must be close to evening.

My stomach, finally finished with digesting breakfast, rumbles. I look at Oakley's pack. She follows my gaze.

"Don't get your hopes up. There's little to nothing in here," she says, shuffling through the bag. "There are two slices of sandwich, though, if you'd like to eat now."

I feel guilty about eating her food, but I've let her have some of my water, and this is an alliance… I nod hungrily, and she hands me one of the diagonal halves.

I'm careful to just nibble on it, even though it has thin slices of that wonderful meat called beef, as well as some whitish sort of cheese. I end up halfway through before I decide I need to ration this. I cover it back up with the clear wrap it was in before and give it back to Oakley, who has since eaten a third of the other half. I guess, even after a while at the Capitol, she's not used to eating much.

She packs up the sandwiches and informs me another thing in the bag is a thin length of rope.

Suddenly, there's a loud crash, and I shoot up the tree again, Oakley following me this time. We silently watch as none other than Chara struggles out of a broken interweaving of branches.

I'm actually surprised she made it past the initial bloodbath—her knees must have held out until just now.

There's a muffled shuffling next to me, and I watch, wide-eyed, as Oakley pulls out a throwing knife.

She wouldn't go after such a helpless target, would she? If she's that kind of person, I'm not so sure about this alliance of ours…

But, logically speaking, this is a good kill. It would be better for her not to die by the hands of someone who might torture her.

Right?

I don't watch any longer, but I hear the cannon.

"Let's make room for the hovercraft," Oakley whispers. "You go on ahead; I need to get the knife back."

I don't hesitate to get out of the tree, but once I'm down, I wonder if I want to keep running. If I break the alliance, she's sure to come after me without mercy. But I'm going to be haunted by her presence, day in and day out, if I keep it.

I swallow, my remaining water bottles clenched tightly in my arms, sure I'm making the worst decision of my life as I pelt away from Chara's corpse.