Author's Note: At last, it is time for the Games to end. I hope you guys are satisfied with this, the last chapter of my tale. This section is the most important, and it was the one I put the most thought into, so I'd love to hear your thoughts. There will be an epilogue coming soon. Thank you guys so much for reading!

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There are probably four or five of the mutts, and they seem to be some sort of ravenous wolf-like creatures. But I don't wait to take in the details, and it's dark and hard to see anyway. I get up and sprint for the Cornucopia, which seems to be the only place of refuge now.

Since I start much closer to the target, I reach it first. Cato is only seconds behind me, and he appears both exhausted and wounded. I hate myself for it, but I grab his arms and help him scramble up beside me. After all, if he's blocking the way, Katniss and Peeta can't get up here either.

Cato collapses in a heap behind me and I forget about him as my eyes lock onto the tributes from 12. Will they make it? The mutts are right on their heels, and Peeta seems to have a limp. I extend my arm out, and feel relief when Katniss' hand finds mine. I guess suspicion fades when one is being chased by killer wolves.

I help pull Katniss up and then we both assist Peeta. The mutts reach the Cornucopia just as Peeta climbs up, slamming themselves into the metal sides and snapping their huge fangs in an attempt to catch anyone too near the edge. But suddenly we have another problem.

Cato, sword in hand, lunges towards us. The blow catches on Katniss' bow, which is metal and does not break, and the sword glances to the side. Peeta is on his feet, and he shows his strength when he grabs the slightly off balance Cato and flings him to the other side of the Cornucopia. I find myself completely useless, but then a clanging noise tells me that Cato dropped the sword on impact. I hurried dive for it, and when my fingers close around the hilt, I stand, hoping to make use of some of the skills I picked up in training.

But when I reassess the picture, it looks like the fighting has ceased momentarily. Katniss has another arrow fitted to her bow, but Cato has Peeta in a headlock and is using the boy almost like a shield. It's a stalemate.

Until Peeta gestures to Cato's hand, that is. Katniss and Cato know what that means before I do, but I figure it out when Katniss' bow twangs and an arrow imbeds itself into the Career's hand. Peeta uses the advantage and thrusts his adversary back and off the Cornucopia to the howling mutts below.

Cato's screams fill the air, and although I can also hear the noises of fighting, I know he can't last long. Finally we all hear him fall, and I know that he will be torn to shreds. But they will do it slowly, savoring this kill so that the audience can enjoy some gore.

I think of Thresh and the twisted look of glee on Cato's face as he killed him. The image seeds satisfaction in me, but then another image fills my mind and replaces the one of Thresh and Cato completely. It's of a young man, his bloody and bruised, stretched out in shame. For me. It was my fault. It's a picture of something that happened in my past, and I suddenly know what I should to do here and now. It's perfect for my strategy, it's perfect for the audience, and it's even perfect for Cato.

I hold the sword tightly and let out a battle cry, charging after Cato. I leap over the edge of the Cornucopia and land on my feet a few feet away from the mutts, who have stopped their mauling and now seem interested in me. I hear my name being called, probably by Katniss, but I ignore it. With the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I begin the first offensive I've launched at all in the Games.

I swing the sword as hard as I can and feel it slice into the neck of the closest mutt. I rip it out—which by itself take almost more strength than dealing the stroke—and sling it around to hit the face of another wolf that was coming after me. I take a few steps back, prepare my arm for another stroke, and then carry it out. I stab a mutt through in the spine and deliver a few more wounds to the remaining three. But I cannot do this for long.

There is not more room to pull back; the mutts have now encircled me. My advantage has evaporated. Now is the time to just let everything out. I start slashing, hacking, and deflecting with all the stamina my body possesses, and while I know I am being badly wounded, my nerves hardly register anything. All I notice is that I am feeling tired and some parts of me don't work like they should.

Suddenly I refocus my mind and find only one mutt still on its feet. I am amazed that I have managed this, but Cato probably did inflict the wolves with injuries before he went down, and I have seen kids in the Games do extraordinary things when faced with death anyway. I briefly glance down and realize that I am bleeding profusely. My survival is unlikely, even without this one last mutt.

But the wolf doesn't attack me. The Gamemakers must have control of it, and they know that Katniss is low on ammunition. Perhaps she only has one arrow. It occurs to me that I cannot be allowed to win the Games; the Gamemakers don't want me to because of all I've done against them in the Arena, and Katniss killing me makes it look a lot better than me dying almost like a martyr. So whether it's to force Katniss to kill me personally or just because the Gamemakers love watching members of alliances kill each other, the wolf sets it sights on the Career instead of me.

Cato, who I find is about two yards behind me and to my right, is still moaning, I notice, and I even think he sees the wolf coming. But I know I can intersect the mutt's path, though I have less than a second to do it. Without any thought or real strategy left, I put into action the skill that I seem to have used more than any other in these Games. I throw myself in front of the mutt.

This time, with my adrenaline having run down, I do feel more of the pain as teeth and claws imbed into my flesh. But I still have enough power to swing the sword in my hand, and after a few blows to the head, the mutt stops tearing at me and falls down, dead. I almost fall with it, but I use my last big of physical strength to step towards Cato before collapsing near him.

My face is not in the ground, so I can see a bit of what Cato is doing. All of his exposed flesh is mutilated badly, but I think his armor is holding in whatever blood would pour from internal injuries. His hand—I think—is messing with something just below his neck. It's suddenly so hard to think that I can't really understand what he's doing. Finally I hear a strange noise, and I see that he has unzipped his protection. I let out a groan of my own when I understand. He's letting himself bleed to death.

"What…world…" Cato slurs out, trying to make his lips and tongue move together, "do you…live in?"

"Same one as you," I say, surprised to hear my own voice so broken and terrible sounding. "I just see things…differently."

Then I do the hardest thing physically and emotionally that I've ever done in my life. I crawl, pain shooting through my body like fire, towards Cato. I finally reach him, and since I can't sit up, I just roll onto my back right next to the place where he lays. I have been by the side of two dying tributes already, one an ally and one and enemy. I decide to make it an uneven three with someone who was my enemy, but is probably willing to change his mind.

"Cato," I rasp, nearly choking on my own blood, "how would you like to form an alliance?"

I think he chuckles, but since it ends in coughing, it's tough for me to tell for sure. His bright eyes, which are still clear and alert, search mine intently, looking for an explanation. I know I have to elaborate, but talking has just become torture, so I take a few seconds to build up the willpower.

"An alliance in death," I continue. "Where we defy these Games and set aside transgressions. Die together." I struggle to beat back the darkness closing in on my vision, threatening to swallow me up. "Do you know forgiveness, Cato? I do. Now I want to extend some of my own for all of Panem to see."

Cato's eyes mist over a bit, and he seems to be processing all I've said. His pride and confidence, which once defined him, have fallen away in this moment of pain and humiliation. Death, when staring one in the face, tends to make things once so important seem trivial. Cato can no longer bring pride to his district; he has lost, and now is revealed to be only a pawn in the hand of the Capitol. But that's why I want to do this: to show that we can break free of that, even though we are about to die.

A tear slips out of Cato's eye and rolls down his torn cheek. I now notice that I am crying myself, and I wonder how much longer the Gamemakers will tolerate this. I hear a dull thump, I know that Katniss and Peeta and coming to investigate. We may be out of time.

I stretch out my hand, no matter how much it hurts, and place it an inch from Cato's. It's all up to him now, but he hardly hesitates. His hand closes over mine, creating something that cannot be described in words. All I know is that I feel warm, and a smile creeps up my lips. Cato smiles too, and then closes his eyes, perhaps experiencing peace for the first time in his life. A cannon sounds, but I hardly hear it at all. Cato is gone.

Now here I am, surprisingly still alive, but judging by my lack of sensation and the pool of redness around me, I don't think I will outlive Cato by much. I shift my focus from my ally to the other two tributes standing in the mouth of the Cornucopia. They are confused, understandably, but Katniss has not loaded her bow. She seems conflicted, but after a moment of standing still, she begins to walk towards me.

"Amaranth," she says gently, kneeling down beside me, "you're an idiot."

I want so badly to laugh, but I think that could literally be the death of me, so I limit myself to a wide grin. Peeta come over too and sits beside Katniss, both probably not sure what to do with me.

"I guess your strategy didn't work out in the end," Katniss says, not without sadness in her tone. "You got pretty close, though. If only you hadn't gone off and tried to take on the mutts, who knows? You might have won."

I know she's just talking to give me something to hear, but I jump on the opportunity to reveal the truth. "No. Don't you understand? This was my strategy all along."

She creases her brow in confusion. "To die?" she clarifies.

"To help someone else live. To…save a life."

"Why?" Katniss asks after a pause, undoubtedly voicing the question of many people in the audience.

"Hope," is all I can say, but when I realize that she has my hand in her own, I give her something else. The sign. I write it into her hand, but I don't say anything. I don't want her to face Capitol questioning about it later, and I figure she'll ask someone eventually. "I have…hope," I repeat, wanting to draw the attention to my face and mouth and away from my hand.

Katniss seems to get the message, and she nods. "Well, you've got more hope than anyone I've ever seen before," she says. She appears to want to say more, but she can't decide. At last, Peeta is the one who speaks.

"Thank you, Amaranth. Katniss might not be here without you, and neither would I."

"Thank you," Katniss whispers, a tear running down her face.

"Use your lives well," I charge as a fog swirls in front of my eyes. I can barely see Katniss at all, and I know I am on the precipice, but I feel a last flicker of strength. I open my mouth and issue one last request. "Find my hope."

Unlike I always imagined, what finally engulfs me is not darkness and emptiness but a blinding light void of any sting or defeat.

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