Oh, wow. Thank you guys so much for reviewing and reading and alerting and favoriting and just generally being awesome. Cause you are. Seriously. Your awesomeness overwhelms me.

I've just about happy danced my socks off. And they're Nike. I have no idea why that matters.

Anywho, just an update for CF . . . it still hasn't ended. I'm at 143,000 words with four to five chapters left. Y'all are going to get your reading in on this one. I don't think there's one chapter in the entire thing that's not at least 4,000 words.

But back to this story . . .

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; I am very fond of 'Gibbs slapping' . . . still think I own HG?

Chapter 16

All morning I have been antsy. Today is the day. Today is the day when Rue and I destroy the Career's food and hopefully turn the odds in our favor. All morning I've had Rue tell me everything she knows about the Career's camp.

I haven't been giving Rue enough credit. I knew she was smart, but I didn't know the sheer amount of observant wit she possessed. As it turns out, when she wasn't following me and Peeta, she had been spying on the Careers. Able to find a little copse near the edges of their camp where she could see everything and yet remain hidden, she learned everything she could about their camp and the supplies they had.

The food and supplies, she says, is piled up in a pyramid about thirty yards away from the Cornucopia, covered in a net. This fact bothers me. It doesn't make sense. They would want to keep their supplies closer . . . and why pile it all up together? If someone decided to try and steal from them, everything would be in the right place, all together. The hypothetical thief could as easily take a package of crackers as they could take a broadsword.

Another thing that worries me is that the boy from District 3 is guarding the supplies.

"The boy from District 3?" I ask. "He's working with them?"

"Yes, he stays at the camp full-time. He got stung, too, when they drew the tracker jackers in by the lake. I guess they agreed to let him live if he acted as their guard. But he's not very big."

I frown at Rue's theory. It just doesn't make sense. The boy from District 3 left no impression on me at all. I can't remember anything about him. His training score, his interview, nothing. And if he didn't make an impression on me, I doubt that the Careers even noticed him at all.

So why keep him alive? Why let him near their precious supplies in the first place? What value could he be for them?

"What weapons does he have?" I ask. Maybe he has a secret weapon, like I have my bow.

"Not much that I could see. A spear. He might be able to hold a few of us off with that, but Thresh could kill him easily," says Rue.

There's something that's not right with this setup. I can feel it in my bones. As a hunter, you learn to trust your instincts and mine are screaming at me, telling me that all is not as it seems. "Something's just not right, Rue," I say, frustrated that I can't figure out what it is.

"I know." Rue draws a pattern in the dirt at her feet, before looking up at me, her voice quiet. "Katniss, even if you could get to the food, how would you get rid of it?"

"Burn it. Dump it in the lake. Soak it in fuel." I tickle Rue's belly, just like I would Prim. A high-pitched giggle escapes my little ally. "Eat it!" Rue continues to giggle. "Don't worry," I assure her. "I'll think of something. Destroying things is much easier than making them."

For the rest of the morning, Rue and I gather more food. I want to be prepared if we aren't able to meet up after our plan goes through. We carry on a light conversation, learning a little about each other, and when I ask her what she loves most, she replies, "Music."

This gives me pause. The usefulness of music is nonexistent. But then I think of my father, and how his voice was one of the most soothing sounds in my world. I think about my own signing briefly, but I haven't sung since Prim was little and I was trying to get her to sleep.

"We sing a lot at home," Rue explains. "At work, too. That's why I love your pin." She points to my mockingjay pin that I've forgotten about.

"I have a few mockingjays that are my special friends," Rue says proudly and I can't help but smile a little at her enthusiasm. "We can sing back and forth for hours. They carry messages for me."

My eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"I'm usually up the highest, so I'm the first to see the flag that signals quitting time. There's a special little song I do." Rue pauses and sings a sweet little four-note tune. "And the mockingjays spread it around the orchard. That's how everyone knows to knock off," she explains. "They can be dangerous though, if you get to near their nests. But you can't blame them for that."

We walk in silence for a moment more before Rue looks up at me. "That's how I knew I could trust you," she tells me. "The mockingjay. Do you like them?"

I smile sadly. "Mockingjays remind me of my father," I tell her softly. "He had the most beautiful voice. The mockingjays would always fall silent when he sang."

"They must have really liked him," Rue says. "They're not quiet for just anyone. Do you sing too?"

"Not often. Not anymore."

Rue frowns. "That's too bad. I'd like to hear you sing sometime."

"Maybe," I allow. Like Prim, Rue is too sweet to completely deny her anything.

"I have a good luck charm," Rue tells me. She takes a necklace, made out of some sort of grass out from her shirt. There's a little, carved wooden star hanging from the necklace.

"Well I'd say it's been doing its job so far," I say, and Rue smiles at me.

At lunch, we've worked out the kinks in our plan. By the afternoon, we're ready to put our plan into action. I help Rue set up the two fires, gathering enough green wood to make enough smoke so that the Careers notice. The third fire Rue will have time to set herself.

We decide to meet afterward at the place where we shared our first meal and became allies. I'm planning on using the stream to help guide me there. I should be able to find it that way fairly easily. I give Rue some of my food, and even give her my sleeping bag just in case we aren't able to meet up tonight for whatever reason.

"But won't you get cold?" Rue asks as she takes the sleeping bag warily.

"Don't worry about me," I tell her. "I can take one from the Careers. Stealing isn't illegal here, you know," I say with a grin to set her at ease.

It seems to work because Rue smiles and tucks the sleeping bag in her pack. She suddenly decides to teach me her mockingjay signal, the one that she uses in the orchards. "It might not work. But if you hear the mockingjays singing it, you'll know I'm okay, only I can't get back right away."

It's a good idea and it makes me worry a little less. "Okay then, if all goes according to plan, I'll see you for dinner," I say with a smile.

Unexpectedly, Rue throws her arms around my waist, giving me a big hug. It takes me by surprise, but it doesn't take me long to reciprocate. "You be careful," she tells me seriously.

"You too," I reply before turning and leaving her, making my way up stream.

I'm still worried about Rue being killed. She's grown on me the past two days. I shake my head. Rue started growing on me on the train when we watched the reapings. She is so much like Prim, and yet so different. Rue loves adventure. Prim finds it a trial. But they have that same sweetness about them, that same purity that is rare, but precious.

I quickly reach the spot in the stream where I had my bath. It only takes an hour. I must have been traveling much slower than I thought after the tracker jacker attack. I easily follow the stream downhill and in no time I'm nearing the Career's camp. The closer I get, the more acute and sensitive my senses become. An arrow is already strung in my bow, and any little noise is enough for my head to jerk up quickly to identify it. I try and calm myself, because I'm getting jumpy. Jumpy is not good when hunting.

While I cautiously make my way to the copse that Rue told me about, I can't help that my mind wonders to Peeta. It's been four days since our fight with the Careers, and I'm wondering how much longer he can hold on, despite my attempts to think positive. If he's bleeding like Rue said, I know that he can't possibly last more than another day if I don't get to him soon.

I remind myself that Peeta is strong, not just physically, but mentally. Peeta is strong in ways that I'm not. Peeta has faith. He simply believes. He has a trust in the world that I don't have. And somehow, it makes him stronger. I don't understand it, but Peeta's blind faith seems to help him.

However, I can't help the fact that my heart clenches at the thought of Peeta lying somewhere, slowly dying, all alone. Is he expecting me to find him? What if he thinks I've abandoned him? I shake my head clear of these thoughts. I need to focus.

I remember the specific instructions that Rue gave me in order to find the copse, and once I find it I have to admire her cleverness. Her little hideout is perfect, better than she'd described. I could see the Careers, the Cornucopia, everything . . . but they couldn't see me. I lie down on my stomach and peer through the bushes that conceal me.

I see four tributes when I look out. Cato, Clove, Marvel, and the boy from District 3. Smugness and a righteous satisfaction fill me when I see that they are still recovering from the tracker jacker stings. The stings are still swollen and ugly and it makes me smirk. Obviously, they were too stupid to pull out the stingers or they don't know about the leaves that will help them. Or both.

My eyes focus on what each tribute is doing. It's obvious that there's a split in the group. District 3 is only there to serve one purpose. I simply don't know what it is. He's sitting away from the others on a crate, absentmindedly fiddling with a plastic box, his spear propped up against his leg. Cato, Clove, and Marvel stand a good distance away from him, and they appear to be talking.

The Cornucopia is in the same position it was when the gong went off except its insides have been plucked clean. All the supplies, as Rue said, are stacked in a pyramid about thirty yards away from the golden horn-shaped structure. Yet some supplies are sprinkled around the perimeter of the pyramid.

I fight a growl of frustration. There's a missing piece of the puzzle that I don't have. This layout is far too specific to be random. This layout has meaning. It's important. And it has something to do with District 3. Why else keep him alive? He's useless to them.

I lay there watching for half an hour, brooding about the missing piece of the puzzle that I'm not seeing. The Careers, all this time, have been talking, but now their voices have risen as an argument breaks out between them.

They've seen the smoke from one of Rue's fires. Cato is shouting and pointing at it, raring to go. But the question appears to be who all is going hunting with him. In other words, they're wondering if they should take District 3 with them.

"He's coming. We need him in the woods, and his job's done here anyway. No one can touch those supplies," Cato argues.

"What about Lover Boy?" asks Marvel and I freeze.

"I keep telling you, forget about him. I know where I cut him. It's a miracle he hasn't bled to death yet. At any rate, he's in no shape to raid us," Cato sneers, though I can tell he's aggravated that Peeta hasn't died yet. I also notice a large, bloody bandage on his shoulder, making me think that Cato didn't come away from his fight with Peeta unscathed, and I smile.

But I can't really focus on that. All I can hear are Cato's words. It's a miracle he hasn't bled to death yet. So it's just as bad as my worst imaginings. I'd been holding out hope that Peeta wasn't as injured as Rue seemed to think. After all, he's survived four days. But Cato seems to think that Peeta should be knocking on death's door any second. And his confidence in this belief worries me. What if I'm too late? What if, by taking the time to destroy the Career's supplies, I'm ruining any chance I have of saving Peeta?

"Come on," says Cato. He thrusts District 3's spear into the boy's hands and they head off in the direction of Rue's fire. As they walk away, the last thing I'm able to hear is Cato saying, "When we find her, I kill her in my own way, and no one interferes."

I gulp. Something tells me that he's not talking about Rue. Rue didn't drop a nest of tracker jackers on him. But his words bother me in another way. I kill her in my own way, and no one interferes. What does that mean?

I really don't want to find out.

Once the Careers are out of sight, my focus returns to the Cornucopia and the pyramid. I begin to think of ways to get rid of the supplies. My first thought is a flaming arrow, but I have no guarantee that the fire would catch. It might simply burn out, and then I've lost an arrow for no reason. I can't afford to do that. I only have eleven arrows, having already lost one to Clove after putting it in her shoulder during our scuffle four days ago. I'd noticed that her shoulder was bandaged, too.

I decide that I have to get closer. I need a better look. Maybe there's something I'm not seeing. Just as I'm about to take the first step out of my cover, a movement a few hundred yards to my right causes me to pause. And then, much to my dismay, the redheaded girl from District 5, Foxface, slips out of the forest and runs toward the pyramid. I watch her, curious, as she suddenly stops just as she reaches the outer circle of supplies that surrounds the pyramid.

Foxface pauses, examining the ground, before she cautiously begins a series of quick hops and leaps toward the pyramid, occasionally chancing to take a few quick steps. My brow furrows. What's with the dance? What does she know that I don't? Frustration and anger seep into my blood due to the fact that Foxface knows something that I don't. She's proving to be the wild card I pegged her to be when I watched the reapings.

My attention sharpens when Foxface leaps over a barrel. However, she overshot it, and her landing gives her too much forward momentum. Her hands shoot out in front of her, landing on the ground in front of her to steady herself, and she lets out a sharp squeak. She waits for a few seconds, unmoving, before slowly righting herself. I can practically see the relief in her posture from my hiding place. I watch as she takes a few more cautious steps before reaching the supplies. Quickly and efficiently, she takes only enough so that the Career's won't notice. A handful of apples, a package of crackers. All of her supplies are food, though I see her take a small knife from a plastic container.

And then I watch as she does her little dance again, this time away from the pyramid. Once she clears the supplies littered about the ground, she takes off in the direction she came. I scowl. What does she know that I don't? I remember when she fell, when she braced her hands on the ground. She'd been terrified of the ground. It was almost like . . .

It all clicks in my mind.

It was almost like she thought the ground was going to explode.

"It's mined," I whisper. Everything makes sense now. Foxface's careful footwork. The reason the Careers have kept the boy from District 3 alive. District 3 specializes in technology. Computers. Automobiles. Explosives. Somehow, he must have been able to reactivate the explosives in front of the pedestals, since they automatically deactivate after the initial sixty seconds are up, and then place them strategically around the supplies. That's why Cato was so blasé about leaving the supplies unattended. Anyone who tried to touch them would be blown sky high. I wonder what the Gamemakers think about this. I bet they were shocked. Well, way to go District 3 for putting one over them, but what am I supposed to do?

Cautiously, I emerge from my hiding place and take quick steps toward the Cornucopia. I stop when I reach the pedestals on which we stood before the gong signaled the beginning of the Games. The dirt surrounding the pedestals has been upturned and then packed back neatly. The explosives have been dug up as I expected.

I begin to wonder how I can set off the bombs. Pressure is the key. So, what do I do? Toss a few rocks toward the pyramid and hope that I set one off? No. No, that won't do. I need to cause a chain reaction. I need for more than one bomb to go off. Ideally, I need to find a way to cause all of them to blow. But how?

I can't risk simply setting off one bomb. The Careers would come rushing back, causing me to have to flee and I would have essentially done nothing. I look up to the sky, toward Rue, and see the smoke from our second fire. No doubt the Careers are, or will be soon, suspecting that it's a trick.

I need a plan. Quick. My time is running out.

I glare at the pyramid in front of me. There has to be a solution! There has to be something that I'm not seeing! I have to find it. I have to find the answer. I have to take away the Career's advantage. I have to even the playing field. And I probably have no more than ten minutes to figure out how.

Come on, come on, come on! I think furiously. What can I do? What can I do that will cause all the mines to blow? What can I do that will cause a chain reaction? There has to be something . . .

My eyes alight on the bag of apples. Hanging near the top of the pyramid in a burlap sack, strung up by a rope. My fingers tighten on my bow. I'm a good enough shot. If I can cut the burlap and cause the apples to spill out, falling to the ground . . .

I decide that it's my best bet. I allow myself three arrows to get the job done. My first arrow is already strung, and I take careful aim. Everything around me fades into the background. I only see the burlap sack containing the apples. I hear nothing but the sound of my deep, easy breaths and the thudding of my heartbeat in my ears.

I let the first arrow fly. It cuts through the top of the bag, creating a tear.

I string my second arrow and take aim. I let out a slow breath and release my second arrow. It tears a hole in the burlap and I see an apple teetering precariously on the edge.

I string my third and last arrow. It's now or never. I aim and fire. My arrow cuts through the burlap, creating bigger hole, which causes the apples to spill forth onto the ground.

Everything freezes. I suddenly hear everything. My heart pounding. My quick breaths. The mockingjays. A breeze rustling the leaves of the trees. Everything in my sight is moving in slow motion.

And then it abruptly speeds back up, and I'm blown backward into the air.

And kaboom! The supplies are no more. And alas, fear not, Peeta will be back in Chapter 18, which I have dubbed the penultimate chapter . . . aside from Chapter 25. Oh, I do like that chapter, too.

The next chapter is very sad. Very, very sad. :(

(sniffles)

BTW: I'm really going to start advertising my version of CF, which is now titled My Last Breath (ominous title, I know), getting you guys all anxious and ready to read. So I'm going to be sharing one line of dialogue from CF in my A/N. I'll go through a variety of characters, but I think I'll start off with Peeta and try to make you guys swoon. ;)

Tiny excerpt from My Last Breath . . .

Peeta: "And I don't know about you, but I would gladly go through a hundred different
arenas if it meant I could still share what was left of my life with you."

(fangirly sigh)

Lots of love,

AC