A/N: Thanks so much, everyone, for the comments. I really love them. 3 Keep on? And also, the tribute field is narrowing, and this story will finish soon... But. I have been contemplating some alt-POV versions of this. Like, the same story, but from Iah's point of view, or Oakley's. If I get five comments or more on that, I will start it after Lucky Lady is done. So, enjoy it while it lasts... *evil laughter*

I blankly grasp my water bottles, trying to keep them out of range of the blood pouring out my mouth. I continually gag and choke on it, whether I'm trying to breathe through my nose or my mouth.

Now a cluster of the crimson liquid forms at the top of my throat, and in a few seconds, it's cut off my breath completely. I sit, doubled over, trying to let it flow out, but there's just too much blood.

Is this how I'm going to die? After everything I've just gone through? See my friend's deathbed and killer, and only manage to run away before perishing myself?

But what do I have to live for anymore?

I retch, and the blood finally thins enough for me to resume breathing, but in exaggerated, short gasps. I crumple over further, just watching the water and roots at my feet become redder and redder.

If anyone is going to kill me, now's the time to do it. I'm too dizzy to get back up, I'm in no condition to fight back, and I'm sure they could even track me from the reek of all this blood.

But as time passes, my wounds finally start to clot up, and there's still no sign of any of the other tributes.

I hack once more, and the last of the threatening blood exits my mouth. I sigh, looking down at the puddle of blood and water beneath me. It's almost enough to convince a person that this was the scene of the bloodbath.

I'm about to start to drink the few gulps of water I have left in the fifth bottle before I suddenly halt. If this looks like a deathbed, anyone who comes across it will assume items nearby were just perfectly-fine resources left behind by the dead tribute, right?

I swirl the water in the bottle around for a moment. On top of that idea, Rim has no clue what's poisonous and what's not, so he'd be an easy target for something like this.

But I don't have any poison. The best I could do here is throw some mud in it and hope he doesn't notice. But even Rim wouldn't be ignorant enough to down that.

I look around my surroundings, but all I can make out are a bunch of trees. If there's anything poisonous in this place, it's underwater.

But I think I've proven beyond a doubt that I cannot catch fish. And the worst affliction I could cause from one of those is a little bit of food poisoning, anyway.

But if fish aren't the only things underwater…

I start to poke around the underwater portions of the roots with the dull end of my spear, hoping to find some signs of anemones. I've bumped into a lot of mud and a few large rocks—or possibly coral—before the handle comes against something squishy.

It takes me a while to pry it off with the sharp end of my spear, but I've soon speared it and set it on top of the roots at my feet to see it's a Hell's Fire anemone.

We haven't had any of them in District 4 since the rebellion; the entire west coast, where these creatures live, ended up irredeemably scarred and was tagged as part of the Abandoned Fields. But, being the little nerd I am, I read about it in one of our old textbooks once.

There wasn't much information on it other than stay away—it hurts like its namesake if you make contact—and it contains something-or-other-toxin in its extremities.

So if the toxin causes searing pain on the outside, what will it do if it gets to the inside?

I slice at the brightly-colored tentacles carefully, and when I've gotten a considerable amount of liquid on my spearhead, I tap it into the open water bottle. I screw the lid back on—if I add too much, it would be too obvious it's poisoned—and toss it onto the roots carelessly so it appears the supposed victim here only dropped it before she died. I'm very careful only to move the hacked-up anemone with my spear, and it splashes back into the water. Clutching my good bottles of water to my chest, I survey the scene again in the approaching twilight. It looks quite convincing, really. I just hope my strategy works.

I start to rise to my feet, but my knees buckle, and only a cluster of roots saves me from toppling over. I've lost too much blood to go running around here, but I certainly can't just sit around and wait for someone to finish me off. I look up into the leafy branches of the mangrove above me, but I'm not sure if I could make it up there. I'm about to attempt it, anyway, before I remember the meat-seeker locusts scavenging among the treetops earlier. Given the choice of a sword through my heart or being slowly picked apart inch by inch, I think I'll take my chances with the other tributes.

After somehow managing to stumble over a few meters, I settle in a relatively comfy nook in the roots as the anthem starts to play. There's no gap in the branches above me, but I don't care to look. There were only two cannon blasts today, and I already know too well who they were for.

So instead of watching the sum-ups, I unscrew the lid of one of my bottles. Considering I've been about to dehydrate myself to death with my stingy sipping of water thus far, I go ahead and swallow a whole bottle, reluctantly despite its cool magnificence.

I squint at the last three bottles of water as the ending flourish of the anthem plays above me. Three bottles. If I only drink half of one a day—which has been pretty well proven to keep me weak—I'll only have six days, and then, without any clean water, I'm sure to die of dehydration. But if I can't find anything to eat, it doesn't even matter how long the water lasts. I'll definitely have to try my hand at spear-fishing, I think as my mind starts to go fuzzy. I rearrange my few supplies as carefully as possible before I black out.

I wake up to a cannon boom. I'm sure I would have given a start normally, but I'm still weak from blood loss and hunger. I only vaguely wonder who died. If the tribute's not an ally of mine or someone specifically after my head, it really doesn't concern me.

I allow myself a few minutes of blank drowsiness before forcing myself to stand and grip my spear. The hot rays of morning sunlight filter through the leaves and cast sparkles on the mostly-smooth surface of the water as I struggle to make out any fish.

But when a snook finally does dart across, I'm ready. My spear plunges into the water and soon starts to slide on the mud, but I pull it back out before it's submerged.

To my delight, I've actually caught the fish. It's fairly large, as far as snooks go, and it will make a perfect breakfast for me. I slice it up—while I've had little experience with chopping up snooks or any freshly-caught fish, it still comes easily—and dump everything but the meat and the eyes back into the water.

I go ahead and choke down the eyes. It's gross and slimy, but I've heard there are essential nutrients in there you can't get from the rest of the fish, though I don't recall whether that was valid for snooks. Oh, well. If they have the slightest chance of helping me, I'll go for it.

The meat is going to be trickier. As long as I've been in District 4, I've never had to eat anything raw. We've always had enough power to properly cook them, provided we didn't attempt to turn two appliances on at once, and the only kind we ever prepared was already frozen to destroy any parasites it could have contained.

But the chances of freezing anything in this sweaty place is zip, and I've already contemplated the dangers of me making a fire here. I guess I could take my chances and eat it raw, but I've been told the dangers of it repeatedly throughout my school years, so I'm hard-wired to avoid it.

I check the perimeter again warily before finally breaking down and gathering twigs near me for a fire. I get the right dampness for more heat and less smoke, but once I've collected them, I hesitate to light them. What if there's still enough smoke for the Careers to find me? I can't run very far in this condition, and one spear would be no match for the weapons of three well-trained Careers.

I shake my head. I've been hoping one would come across the false deathbed I set up, so shouldn't them coming near it be a good thing? If they're far off, I could hike well out of the way by the time they notice the smoke and start toward here. Besides, I'm utterly starving, and I definitely don't want to get sick from my only source of food.

After whirling around a stick on a flat piece of bark, I've gotten some sparks that soon grow into a small flame. I skewer the snook meat and hold it over the fire, warily checking my surroundings as repeatedly as ever.

But no one seems to notice the slender stream of smoke, and I put the fire out before restrictively nibbling at my meal.

Still, I finish the meat in a few minutes easy, and I let the spit sink down into the water as I retrieve my three bottles, taking a sip out of one, and grasp my spear.

Where to now? I could try to head back to the Cornucopia, but there are just enough bamboo-weeds to keep me from accurately throwing my spear, yet not enough to hide in. If I stay here, I'm sure to be found. So, what if I headed away from the Cornucopia?

It takes me a few minutes, but I manage to climb far enough up a tree to see my surroundings better. After this ring of mangroves, the trees get thicker and thicker, and then…

It's hard to tell, but it looks like… Just a few feet of either water, or mud, or nothing, and then the sheer cliff face.

I wonder if the Careers made their camp there. It would make a lot of sense; they may be the only ones strong enough to climb it, and anyone progressing up the side would be easy pickings for an arrow or knife. But if they are camping there, surely I would not want to go any closer.

So, either I go to the Cornucopia area and lose my offense and defense, or I go toward the cliff, where the Careers are probably watching and waiting for me.

Guess I'll take my chances with the Careers.

I climb back down and slowly start toward the thicker groves. I've only gone a few steps, though, before I hear swearing in the distance.

Phemus.

I scramble back up a tree—I'd be no match for him in any sort of hand-to-hand combat—and wait.

Sure enough, it's him crashing through the roots and swearing up a storm. Once he comes into sight, the first things I notice are his empty hands. Somehow, he lost his axe. It's not hard to imagine he would here; nothing ever seems to last long in the Hunger Games.

But as he draws closer, I distinguish a large slice on the side of his face. It leads clear into a dark red pool where his good eye once was. I look away, not wanting to imagine the process that created the mess.

But he's unmistakably drawing closer to me, so I can't afford not to keep my gaze affixed on him. If he runs into me, I'm sure he would be able to kill me.

But I have a spear now. I could strike first, and not have to worry about him getting to me. I have an advantage, and I'd be wise to use it.

There's still something nagging at me, though. No matter how horrid the conditions are here, I can't bring myself to consciously kill. When I attacked Alypso, I don't think I was quite sane, and my planting of poison doesn't seem the same as thrusting a weapon through the heart of someone walking right in front of me.

But look at Phemus. He's unarmed and blind; he couldn't survive for long here. Maybe it wouldn't really be so evil if I only killed him quickly…

"Do you want to die?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from quivering.

Phemus stops his steam of profanity and looks around. "Who's there?" he barks, looking directly at a tree three meters away from me.

"Um, Circe," I answer, slowly climbing down from the tree while keeping my spear ready.

Phemus grunts. "Of course I don't want to die," he finally replies bitterly. "Does any human being want to?"

"Well, I couldn't say…"

Phemus looks around again, but still can't manage to locate me. It's possible to understand. I learned this place can warp your sense of hearing when I took off after Alypso; I didn't know she was in a completely different location than where my hearing placed her.

"I don't want to… die!" he repeats, slamming a fist into one of the trees, which actually starts to tip over. I shudder.

"But what else could I do in this place?" he continues, gritting his teeth and letting out another string of profanities.

"Would you make it quick?"

I stare at him dumbly. He's really asking me to kill him? "I-I'll try," I stutter, clearing my throat before I continue. "I'm good at throwing this," I wave around my spear before remembering he can't see me, "and I could probably…"

"Just do it, already!" he spits, standing up. "As long as I don't have to die by the hands of the Careers." He swears again with a sigh.

I gulp and walk around him a little, trying to find a good throwing spot. I'm starting to think I may not kill him if I aim for his heart; he does have quite a barrier of muscle in that area.

So what can I aim for but his useless, bloody eye?

The cannon fires, and I check Phemus's clothing for supplies, but I find none before the hovercraft arrives. I pull my spear out and back away as he ascends to the sky and abruptly disappears.

That was lucky. I really ran into someone who had no way to live, and didn't mind being killed quietly. How is it that I keep avoiding death by luck alone?

Whatever the secret is, I'm convinced it won't last long.