A/N: Wow! I'm over 500! And for only 14 chapters! This. Is. Awesome.

And it's all thanks to you guys! :D

Okay, this chapter is the shortest in the entire story. You'll probably finish reading and be like, "where's the rest of the chapter?" Alas, forgive me for making it so short, but when I tried to transition it just didn't flow, so I had to cut it where I did. However, just because this chapter is short, does not mean that it's not important. Actually, this chapter is crucial for Katniss.

And it all revolves around a certain question posed by sweet, little Rue.

Well, that's enough teasing from me. On with the chapter? Yes. I believe so. :D

Random Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Peeta and Katniss are just my puppet pals for a while; Smurfs make the best spies; I keep Jack Sparrow in my basement; Dumbledore or Gandalf?. . .biggest question in my life; I think seagulls are strange creatures; Spock rocks; I am terrified of hand puppets; Elves are real...Legolas and I talk...Be jealous; I saw Bob Barker drop kick a small goat once; Timon and Pumbaa are the ULTIMATE dynamic duo; the Fonz is the man; Peeta Mellark is a sexy beast; Vampires should NOT sparkle; Merpeople are real, they're just shy; "Voldy's gone moldy!"; Severus Snape is awesome . . . still think I own HG?

Chapter 15

I never thought I would ever think it, let alone say it, but the words escape me in this moment. "Thank you, Haymitch."

The parachute that he had sent me in the night contains burn cream. I hadn't opened it immediately, choosing to wait until this morning. Why? Because Rue had already fallen asleep and if I moved, she'd wake, and I didn't want to disturb her. The cream is odorless and white, and I place a generous amount on my calf. The relief is immediate and soothing. My skin doesn't feel hot, the cream sucking the heat from the wound. It's heaven.

It's just now dawn and Rue left to go find breakfast. I don't see why, considering that we have enough food between us already, but I think she simply likes to move through the trees. It's her comfort, her reminder of home, so I let her go.

I look up when I hear the shaking of a branch, and there is Rue, her hands cupped around something. She notices the can of burn cream in my hand. "What's that?"

"Burn cream," I answer. "Haymitch sent it to me last night after you fell asleep. Come here, you could use some." I had noticed a burn on her arm last night.

"You have good sponsors," Rue says wistfully as I apply the cream to her arm.

"You will too," I assure her. "Everyone will realize how smart you are." I look at her hands that are cupped gently around something. "What you got there?"

"Eggs," Rue says. "There's a marshy area over that way." She tosses her head in the general direction. "I'm guessing some sort of waterfowl."

Though I really want to cook the eggs, I don't want to risk a fire. Not with the Careers probably out and about, hunting for tributes. We crack open the eggs and then suck them dry. We each eat a handful of berries and some greens, and then wash it all down with some water. It's a good breakfast anywhere.

After we pack up, Rue and I hop down the tree until we're on the ground. Suddenly, the sound of a cannon echoes through the air, and I tense. I look down at Rue, and I know we're both wondering the same thing.

Who was it?

I'm overwhelmed with the thought that it might be Peeta, and tears threaten to form. Rue said that he was hurt and bleeding. Could he have lost too much blood? Bled out? I flinch. It's a painful death, much too painful for someone like Peeta. Hell, someone like Peeta doesn't deserve to die in the first place.

"Do you think it was . . . ?" Rue trails off, looking at me in concern.

I force myself to stand tall and keep my chin up. I can't allow myself to hope that he's still alive, just as I can't allow myself to think that he's dead. It's almost as painful as when I actually thought he was dead. Yesterday, I had no hope that Peeta could possibly be alive. Today, I do. And yet, that cannon blast is threatening to crush me with the idea that I might have lost him for good this time.

"We'll find out tonight." My voice comes out sounding small.

"He's okay," Rue assures me as we start walking. "He's really strong."

I can't help but smile a little. "He is," I admit, letting this thought become my solace. Peeta is strong, not just physically but mentally as well. He'll hold on. He'll wait for me.

He has to.

"Do you want to try and find him?" Rue asks hesitantly. "We could make it back to where you guys fought by mid afternoon."

I pause, the weight of my decision causing my shoulders to hunch slightly. Should I find Peeta? My heart is screaming to agree, to say 'yes.' To search for Peeta and find him. But my brain is reminding me of the cannon blast we heard not five minutes ago. I could very well be seeing Peeta's face in the sky tonight, and though the idea nearly causes me to gasp with a phantom pain, I have to acknowledge the fact. I could very well waste more than half a day searching for a dead body. A dead body that I'll never find because a hovercraft has already taken him. I hate the cold, cruel logic, but I know that I'm right.

"Not yet," I say, almost choking on the words. I feel as though I'm betraying Peeta, but I can't deny my logic. I have no idea if the cannon fire was Peeta or not. If it wasn't, then I will find him as soon as I can. If it was . . .

I don't even complete the thought.

"We'll see who's in the sky tonight," I explain, and Rue nods, realizing the conclusion I've come to. I'm grateful that she doesn't comment, instead launching into a discussion about District 11 and her family.

Rue and I continue to talk as we gather food, providing a tenous distraction from my thoughts of Peeta and how he might be dead. Being with Rue sort of reminds me of hunting with Gale, except Rue is a much different companion. Where Gale is silent, Rue chatters—softly, but fervently. She also hums a lot. Rue tells me all about her life in the orchards. I learn that they work from sunup to sundown, though often it's longer, sometimes working twenty-four hours straight during harvest. I learn that she has six younger siblings, which surprises me a little, though it makes sense. Rue has a sense of responsibility and maturity about her that most twelve year olds don't possess.

But, eventually, the conversation turns back to me. "Tell me about Peeta," she says.

I pause to look at her, confused, though my heart clenches at his name. "Why?"

Rue shrugs. "He seems really nice, and you like him. People usually talk about things they like. Or people."

Her logic was so simple, yet true, and our conversation has really been rather one-sided so far. I've been quiet mostly, listening to Rue fill my head with images and thoughts of her home in hopes of not thinking about Peeta. I'm not usually one to think that talking 'helps' or makes you feel better, but I figure that it couldn't hurt to try. Besides, I can't deny Rue.

"Well, for one, I usually don't talk much," I tell her. "Peeta called me a functional mute once." To my surprise, a small smile tugs at my lips as I remember our conversation on the rooftop.

"What's his favorite color?" Rue asks.

"The sunset," I answer. "Peeta's an artist. He can't have a simple answer to that question."

Rue laughs. "So he likes to draw?"

I remember seeing pages of his notebooks in class when I walked by his desk in history. I'm always the last one to class, if I come at all. Sometimes I skip. But every time I walked by his desk, I'd see that the pages of his notebooks were rarely filled with notes. Practically every page contained a picture. Beautiful and precisely drawn.

"Yeah, he likes to draw," I reply with a small smile. "Peeta's family owns the bakery. He ices all the cookies and the cakes."

"So he can cook too?"

I laugh. "I guess so. He can make bread at least."

We continue to gather for a few more minutes, and I'm beginning to feel better talking about Peeta. It's almost as if he's with me if I tell Rue about him. And then Rue asks, "Katniss, do you love Peeta?"

I freeze, my eyes widening. Huh? "What?" I ask, my mind racing, wondering if Rue really did ask me what I think she did.

"Do you love Peeta?" Rue repeats. She looks down, twisting her foot in the dirt, embarrassed. "I just . . . I want to know what it's like. Because, honestly, it's not likely I'm getting out of here alive."

I stare at Rue blankly, uncomprehending. I can't believe that she's asking me this. What is love like? How am I supposed to know? Obviously, she thinks I'm in love with Peeta. What do I say?

"You don't have to answer," Rue says, taking my silence as a rejection. "I just wanted to know."

I rationalize this in my head. If Rue thinks that I'm in love with Peeta, then I should just tell her how Peeta makes me feel. That makes sense, doesn't it?

"Love is . . ." I trail off uncertainly. "Hard to explain." Rue smiles a little at my poor start of an explanation, and I feel myself blush. "It's . . ." I think of Peeta's arms around me. "Comforting. And warm and . . ." My mind recalls that special smile that Peeta has, one that he reserves for me and no one else. "There's a way that he looks at me," I admit, feeling my blush spread. "It makes my heart beat faster and I get this fluttery feeling in my stomach."

Rue giggles at me. "You're blushing."

"Love makes you blush, too," I retort quickly, and Rue giggles some more. "Love is . . ." I think of the day before, when I thought that Peeta was gone forever. My voice is practically a whisper as I say, "Love is when you can't imagine surviving without him."

"It sounds nice," Rue says softly.

"Peeta would have explained it better," I say ruefully. "Words are his thing, not mine."

I feel something shift within me after my explanation to Rue. I can't help but feel that my words have opened up a door inside my mind that I've kept firmly shut. This terrifies me. I'm on the brink of something, of some realization. I know it. I can feel it.

But I have no idea what it is.

The day passes and night falls. Rue and I are up in a tree, already in the sleeping bag. I'm anxiously waiting for the anthem to play. All day, though my conversations with Rue helped distract me, I have been worrying about the sound of the cannon we heard this morning. All day, I've been wondering if the world was so cruel as to give me hope and then snatch it away so quickly. The cynical side of me tells me that the answer is a unanimous 'yes.' However, a smaller part of me desperately hopes that the powers that be have spared Peeta.

The anthem plays and I clutch Rue tightly to me in my nervousness. I hold my breath.

The face of the boy from District 10 appears in the sky.

I'm silent for a long second after the anthem finishes and then I whisper, "Just hold on, Peeta."

"Do you want to try and find him?" Rue asks again, and I contemplate my answer.

She asked me this earlier in the day, if I wanted to go find him. But I'd said no, remembering the cannon fire that morning. I needed to know that he was alive before I attempted to find him. Because, however cruel and heartless it seemed, I couldn't afford to take the time to find a dead body. These were the Hunger Games, and I knew that Peeta wanted me to win. He would have told me to leave him.

But now, now that I know he's alive . . . I have to find him.

"Yes," I answer. "But first, I want to do something."

"What?"

A plan has been cooking in my mind all day, another form of distraction from Peeta. An offensive plan. I thought back over all the Hunger Games I've seen, specifically the ones where someone other than a Career won. The times when the victor wasn't a Career were the years when the Careers didn't have their supplies. There was one year when a mudslide took out all the supplies the Careers had gathered and a boy from 6 ended up winning.

The Careers, for all their strength, are actually incredibly weak. They rely too much on their supplies, their sponsors. They don't know how to survive.

"I want to destroy the Career's supplies," I tell her.

Rue replies incredulous, "But they're so strong, Katniss."

"We're strong too," I say. "Just in a different way."

"You are. You can shoot." I can see Rue frown in the dark. "What can I do?"

"You can feed yourself. Can they?"

"They don't need to. They have all those supplies."

"Exactly." I reply. "And I think it's time we fixed that Rue."

So, yes, Katniss is still going to blow up the supplies. I've had a few questions about that, so now you know. :)

And we're just continuing to make progress with Katniss, aren't we? She can't survive without him. Her definition of love. Wonder how that will come into play later in the story. (evil laugh) Go Rue for asking the million dollar question!

And we also want to slap Katniss silly, because she just admitted she was in love with Peeta and still didn't realize it. Don't worry, her amazing realization of awesomeness is coming. I can't possibly drag it out too much longer. :)

The next chapter is a lot like the book. There's only so much that I could do with it. Mainly Katniss's inner monologue is different. After all, she's got to think of Peeta, doesn't she? ;)

Things go boom next chapter.

Lots of love,

AC