A/N: Hey, guys! First off, we're over 600 reviews! 600. Can I just say, WOW! Thank you. I'm amazed by the amount of readers I have for this story, and all of you are so sweet and kind. Thanks again for being awesome and making rewriting this entire series totally worth the hours I spend everyday writing.

Okay, this chapter is sad. We all know why. I did my best with it. But, the good thing about this chapter is that Katniss begins her search for Peeta. And he'll be back in all his sexy glory (literally) next chapter. ;)

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'; Oreos are the BEST . . . still think I own HG?

Chapter 17

The strength of the blast propels me forcefully to the ground. All the air rushes from my lungs as I slam onto the hard earth. I'm left gasping for breath, which is not very conducive due to the heavy smoke in the air. The ground is quaking beneath me as the bombs continue to detonate, and it's all I can do to keep myself as alert as I can.

My head is throbbing, and I know that my back will be bruised from the impact with the ground. I'm lucky that my quiver is resting in the curve of my elbow; otherwise the strong metal might have broken my shoulder if I had landed on it. However, as I take in all my injuries, there is one that worries me most.

I can't hear.

My ears aren't even ringing. The world is silent, and it frightens me more than anything. As a hunter, I rely on my hearing just as much as my sight, perhaps more. I feel off-balance without it. I raise a shaky hand to my left ear, the one that was facing the blast, and feel something wet coat my fingers. When I raise my hand to my face, I see blood. My ear is bleeding. I don't need to be a doctor to know that it's not a good sign.

After a minute or so, the ground stops shaking, and I turn to look back at the devastation I caused. The most exhilarating sense of satisfaction floods me when I see that the pyramid is destroyed, only blackened, smoking, charred bits of rubble left. The ground where the supplies once were is black and burning. My guess is that after the initial explosion, the debris set off the rest of the mines. I look around me and see burning bits of crates and containers. I hadn't even noticed them falling around me. Maybe I blacked out for a second?

Slowly, my brain is beginning to work and get into gear. The Careers are probably thundering through the forest toward the Cornucopia, toward me, after hearing the cacophony of explosions. Explosions that I caused. If I'm still here when they break through the woods, I'm dead.

This thought causes me to rise to my feet, and I automatically know that standing is not a good idea. I'm dizzy. Incredibly dizzy. It's not the woozy dizzy where the world simply spins for a while. No, this dizzy is with the ground beneath your feet refuses to stay solid and the images around you are blurry and ever-changing. I take a step forward, and somehow end up on my hands and knees. Okay, I can't walk. But I can crawl? I begin to make my way back toward the copse Rue found. I have to make it there. If Cato comes back and sees me, I'm dead. I can't possibly defend myself in my state. Rattled and deaf. I wouldn't even hear him approach and then Prim would be forced to watch me die a painful, violent death. No doubt that's what Cato has in store for me.

It's this motivation, the will to protect Prim, which gives me the strength to crawl toward the foliage of the woods. Inch by inch, foot by foot, I make my way toward the safety of the trees. I make it in the knick of time. Literally. The moment that I manage to crawl into the dense shrubbery of Rue's little hideout, the Careers come bursting out of the forest.

I lie in the shrubs for a moment, catching my breath and thanking whatever powers existed for allowing me the precious extra second of concealment before the Careers appeared. I turn on my side and look out toward the Careers.

Cato is furious. No, I think he's beyond fury. I can't hear a thing, but by the way he's raving about, gesticulating wildly, he's throwing a tantrum. If it weren't for the situation I'm in, it would be comical. I never knew that when in a rage, people really did pull their hair and pound their fists on the ground. Clove and Marvel are trying to reason with him, but Cato blows them off. The boy from District 3 tosses a few rocks toward where he'd placed the mines, and I assume he deems it safe because Cato begins to take his anger out on the charred supplies themselves. Kicking over debris. Tossing them in every direction. Clove and Marvel actually have the sense to try and find anything to salvage.

I see the boy from District 3 begin to hedge away from the Careers, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He's right. He needs to run. He's of no more use to them now. Cato must have this realization too because suddenly he's striding toward the boy. District 3 barely has time to turn and run before Cato is on him, his hands wrapped around the boy's neck. Cato's muscles ripple as he violently jerks the boy's head to the side.

I can only assume the cannon fires.

Cato begins to point toward the woods, and I wonder if he plans to go after whoever destroyed the supplies. However, Marvel and Clove argue with him, pointing at the sky. I realize that they probably believe that whoever blew up the supplies was killed in the explosion, the hovercraft having taken the body away before they arrived. Their argument makes sense. A cannon fire would have been easily masked by the detonating bombs. Cato seems to relent to their logic, and they move away from the Cornucopia toward the lake where they sit down and rest, waiting for the hovercraft to take District 3's body.

Night falls and so does the temperature. I reach for my sleeping bag automatically, but I remember that I left it with Rue. Left with no other option, I burrow under some shrubs and make a blanket of leaves and pine needles. I use my backpack to block the wind, and it helps a little. I put on my night vision glasses and they provide me with some relief. At least I have one of my senses. I don't hear the anthem play, but I see the pictures of the dead in the sky. Only the face of District 3 is shown. The Careers now know that the bomber survived the blast.

As the night wears on, I begin to sympathize more with the girl from District 8. But now it's my turn to grit my teeth and tough it out. My mind drifts to Peeta and how I miss his arms around me. I miss his warmth. I miss his smile. I miss his laugh. I simply miss him.

I can't remember ever missing someone other than my father. Well, I miss Gale a little, but for some reason Gale and Peeta do not coexist well in my thoughts. That, and I know that Gale doesn't need me. He can hunt. He can take care of himself. I'm all that Peeta has in the arena. He's dying. I know he is.

It's killing me that I might not be able to find him in time.

I know that once I meet up with Rue in the morning, we're immediately setting out and finding him. Peeta's time is running out, and the mere notion of him dying cuts me to my core. I know what it's like to think that he's dead, gone away from me forever. It is awful. More painful than I would have ever imagined. I don't want to go through that again.

I ignore the little voice in my head whispering to me that in order for me to win these Games, Peeta has to die.

That's really the crux of everything. In order for me to win, Peeta must die. So . . . should I let him? Should I leave him? He wants me to win. He even told me on the roof that he expects to die and that it doesn't bother him.

But it bothers me.

I can't simply ignore Peeta and allow him to die. I have to try and save him. I have to. He would do the same for me. Hell, who am I kidding? He already has done the same for me. I can't be any further in his debt. I will always owe him my life, but if I save him, he'll owe me his life and we'll be even.

I fall into a restless sleep, dreaming of bread and blue eyes.

When I wake up the next morning, I'm momentarily in a panic when my sight is fractured. It takes me a moment before I realize that it's due to the night vision glasses, and I rip them off my face. I blink rapidly as my eyes adjust to the light, and I notice a ringing in my right ear. This makes me hopeful that my ears are on their way to recovery, even if my left ear is still dead.

I look out to the Cornucopia and notice that the Careers are gone. They're probably out hunting the bomber. Lucky me.

Last night's thoughts of Peeta are seeping into my mind, and I can't help the urgency I feel to find him. But first, I know that I have to meet up with Rue. I collect my gear and begin my trek back to the stream. I find it easily and along the way after about an hour I notice footprints. The Careers have been this way, but they're long gone now. They must have passed through here in the night. The impressions of their feet are deep, but the mud around them is cracked and dry. I don't have to worry about them being near.

I continue on up the stream, silently rejoicing as my right ear continues to regain its ability to hear and transmit sounds. Meanwhile, I'm also fighting an inner state of turmoil and fear as my left ear remains soundless. I paw at it occasionally, trying to get it to ring like my right ear, but it never works. The thought that I may have permanently lost my hearing in my left ear scares me. I find myself constantly looking toward the left, so that my right ear will pick up the sounds that my left ear refuses to. After a while it's almost like I have a twitch.

When I reach the spot where Rue and I were supposed to meet, she's not there. I decide to wait for her. Perhaps she got hung up, and had to settle down for the night in a tree. I wander back to the stream and clean up a little bit, carefully washing away the blood from my hair and my left ear. I probably should have done this sooner, but it didn't cross my mind until now. I spear a couple fish and eat one raw, saving the other for Rue.

When I return to camp, I immediately scale a tree. High above the ground, I feel much better, more secure. I can easily shoot Cato or any other Career from my perch and they can't do a thing to me way up here. My stomach rumbles, and I think that today might be what we call a 'hollow day' in District 12. A day when no matter how much you eat, you don't feel full. However, just to bide some time and distract myself from worried thoughts of Peeta and Rue, I decide to indulge. I eat the rest of the groosling, which is appropriately time consuming because I make a point to pick the bird clean. A handful of berries and greens follow the groosling, and after another hour I eat the fish that I'd saved for Rue. The heat would have soon caused it to spoil and I can easily enough get her a few more when she shows up.

My mind suddenly reminds me that we're down to the final eight tributes. This is typically when the Capitol sends out crews to interview the friends and family of the final eight. I wonder who they'll interview for me. No doubt they will interview my mother and Prim, and I think that they might interview Gale. He is my best friend and the whole district knows it.

I tick off the final eight on my fingers. Marvel from District 1, both Cato and Clove from District 2, Foxface from District 5, Rue and Thresh from 11 and then me and Peeta from 12. It's been a long time since we had anyone from our district make it to the final eight, let alone both tributes.

The hours pass and by midafternoon I can't stand it anymore and decide to look for her. It takes me less than an hour to reach the second campfire, which I see is black and burnt out. In another hour I'm at the place where she was supposed to light the third fire, and I immediately know that something is amiss.

Stacked neatly with expertly dispersed tinder is the third fire. Unlit. Rue set up the fire but was never able to light it. What went wrong? Did she run into some predators? Did she seek the safety of the trees? I briefly wonder if she's dead. If she had been killed early this morning I wouldn't have heard the cannon, my right ear still would have been unable to pick up any sounds at that time. No. No, Rue is alive. She's smart. She'd climb high up in a tree. She has enough food and supplies to last for a couple of days.

I decide that whatever has treed Rue needs to die.

I begin to make my way through the woods, looking for any sign of disturbance. An overturned rock. Broken foliage. Signs of a struggle. Signs of a chase. And then I hear it. A mockingjay signing Rue's little four-note tune. This brings me great relief. The birds must have heard the tune recently; otherwise they wouldn't still be singing it. I begin to move toward the song of the mockingjays, hoping that they will lead me to Rue. I open my mouth and softly sing her song, hoping that the mockingjays will sing it back and Rue will know that I'm coming.

I'm just beginning to think that everything will be fine when I hear a sound that stops my heart and makes my blood run cold. A high-pitched scream of terror, one that only a young voice could produce.

Rue.

Immediately, I'm running, tearing through the underbrush, not caring how much noise I make. I hear her call my name, her voice overcome with terror and desperation. "Katniss! Katniss!"

"Rue!" I call back so that she knows I'm coming. "Rue, I'm coming!"

I break through the trees and find myself in a small meadow. On the ground entangled in a net is Rue. She reaches a hand out toward me . . .

And then a spear pierces her abdomen.

I react faster than I ever thought possible. I have an arrow strung and fired in a second. It's embedded in Marvel's neck before he can blink. He stumbles forward onto his knees and cuts the remaining seconds of his life in half when he rips the arrow from his neck. I barely hear the gurgling sound of him choking on his own blood. I barely hear the cannon sound.

My attention is on Rue. I drop to my knees beside her and throw the net off her. Rue has curled in on herself, as if trying to lessen the pain. I know as soon as I glimpse her wound that there's no saving her. There's a stinging in my eyes as I fight not to cry. I don't bother with comforting words. Rue knows that she's a goner just as well as I do, and I'm not about to insult her intelligence. But when her small hand reaches out for me, I grasp it tightly in mine.

"You blew up the food?" she whispers, her breathing ragged.

"Every last bit," I tell her with a sad smile.

"You have to find Peeta."

I nod my head quickly. "I know. I will. Don't you worry," I say as I gently brush her hair back from her face. I position myself so that I'm close enough to lay her head in my lap, and I continue to run a comforting hand through her hair.

"Sing." I'm barely able to hear her, and I know that she has minutes left to live. Only minutes.

She wants me to sing? What do I sing? I know that I can't deny her this last request, but I'm at a loss as to what to sing. What do you sing as a child is dying? How is anything appropriate for such a tragedy?

The song that comes to me is a lullaby, one that is sung to restless babies to get them to sleep. My father sang it to me, and I, in turn, sang it for Prim more than once when she was little. It's very, very old, made up a long, long time ago. The words are easy and soothing, promising hope.

I cough, swallow hard, and begin:

Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

And when again they open, the sun will rise.

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

Rue's eyes flutter shut, and I pause in my song, my voice choking. Her breathing has turned from ragged to shallow and I swallow back tears. This isn't right. It's not fair. Rue begins to gasp softly, fighting for breath. Her time is almost up, but I force myself to sing, to finish the song for her.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away

A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray

Forget your woes and let your troubles lay

And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daises guard you from every harm.

Rue's eyes meet mine, and I nearly crumble when I see how dazed they are. But what breaks my heart is when she manages a very weak smile. My tears have escaped me now. I can't control their flow, and I do nothing to wipe them away. I simply continue to stroke Rue's hair. The last words of the song are barely audible.

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

I know that Rue's dead before the cannon fires. She's entirely too still in my arms, her hand in mine now slack. And then, disturbingly, the mockingjays pick up my song and begin to sing it back to me. I sit there, cradling Rue's dead body for a long time. I don't know for how long it sit there, hunched protectively over her, but when I bend forward to place a gentle kiss on her forehead, my back protests.

The Gamemakers do no doubt want me to leave so that they can send the hovercraft to pick up the bodies, but I can't force myself to move. I can't leave Rue, not like this. Brutally slain on the ground, curled in on herself. It's just not right.

Anger fills me. It's not fair. It's not right. All of this is the Capitol's fault. Gale's ravings against the Capitol are no longer pointless. My own fury at the Capitol and the injustice that they have inflected consumes me.

Again, I hear Peeta's words in my mind.

I just want to show them that I'm not a piece in their games.

An eagerness to make the Capitol accountable for Rue's wrongful death consumes me. I want to show them that Rue was not a piece in their games. I want to show them that I'm not either. I want to show them that there is a part of every one of us that they can never own.

I stray from Rue's body only far enough to collect wildflowers that are strewn about the little meadow. They might be weeds, but they have beautiful small blossoms of violet and yellow and white, and they will serve their purpose well. When I have a small bouquet, I make my way back to Rue and kneel beside her, placing the flowers stem by stem around her. I cover her gruesome wound. I surround her with the blossoms, threading them through her hair, creating a colorful halo.

When I've done all I can do, I stand and place three fingers to my lips before holding them out toward her. And then I walk away without turning back, murmuring, "Goodbye Rue," just as a mockingjay sings her song. I pause just long enough to take Marvel's pack. As a Career, I'm hoping that he carried some good stuff with him that I didn't blow up.

I wonder if they showed my tribute to Rue, or if they cut to another tribute. No doubt that the Gamemakers would hide my sign of sympathy, my own little form of rebellion against the Capitol and their cruelty. I must walk for half a mile before my anger at them begins to fade and my brain begins to think logically.

Peeta.

I have to find Peeta.

The thought begins to consume me. Find Peeta. My eyes flit to the sky, which is turning dusky, and I curse quietly as I realize that I won't make it to Peeta today. If what Rue said is true, and she followed him to the stream, there's no way I'll be able to make it within the mere hour of daylight left. The stream is practically an entire day's walk from where I am, if I'm guessing right and my sense of direction hasn't been lost.

I resolve to try and make it as far as I can before night falls, and take off at a jog through the forest. I follow the stream for a while until I reach the spot where Rue and I became allies. Dark has almost settled in, but I can't find it within me to stop. I feel guilty for leaving Peeta alone for so long. The thought of him lying somewhere, slowly bleeding to death, all alone, wrenches my already aching heart.

So I pull out my night vision glasses and continue on through the night. My sight through the glasses is oddly perplexing. I can see everything fine, but it looks so different from the day. I quickly adjust to it though and by midway through the night, I've made it back to where we fought the Careers and I shot down the tracker jacker nest.

Common sense finally wins out over my intense desire to find Peeta. I know that I'll be useless to him if I'm dead on my feet. I quickly scale the tree, going much higher than necessary, not for safety but only to feel as though I'm distancing myself from all that happened today.

Earlier in the night the anthem played and I saw Marvel and Rue in the sky. We were down to the final six. There were just six of us left. Only six. These Games were winding down.

Suddenly, I see the blinking light of a dropping silver parachute floating down to me. I wonder what Haymitch thinks that I need, because I doubt he's just sending me something out of the kindness of his heart. I frown slightly as I open the parachute and see that it's a piece of bread. A dark-grain loaf shaped in a crescent. I'm able to identify it only because of Peeta, who one day at lunch during training had emptied an entire bread basket and showed me all the breads from every district. This bread was from District 11.

Surely it had been meant for Rue. So why give it to me? I can't imagine how many people from 11 would have had to scrape up a coin in order to send this. But, instead of simply tossing it aside when Rue died, they authorized Haymitch to give it to me. That's a first for the Games.

I look up at the sky. "My thanks to the people of District 11," I say softly.

I carefully tuck the bread away in my pack before finally settling in to sleep. My eyes close and I will myself to escape into unconsciousness. I hope that I'm graced with a nice dream. A visit from my father, maybe.

But when I dream, all I hear is music, sung in the sweet voice of a little girl.

Rue died. I know. Very sad, but a necessary evil.

But, on the bright side, Peeta is BACK next chapter. Next chapter is awesome for a variety of reasons. It's my second favorite chapter because of these mysterious various reasons. I'm anxious for you guys to read it. Really excited.

And *drum roll* we have today's quote from My Last Breath, my version of CF.

Today's special guest star is none other than Mrs. Mellark: "Then again, he's never been very much to be proud of."

Lots of love,

AC