A/N: Wow, you guys are EPIC in your AWESOMENESS. Just . . . holy oreo! (Yes, oreos are quite heavenly. You must agree.)

Anyhoo . . . that's probably getting off topic . . .

I was so glad to hear that all of you liked the last chapter! It's definitely one of my favorites. I mean, come on, Peeta was stammering (quite adorably). There is more stammering to come in CF. I really use his stammering to show the effect that Katniss has on him. After all, he's known for always knowing what to say and being really good with words . . . and then Katniss weilds her power makes him bumbling. I'm a big fan of irony, if you haven't noticed yet. lol

So! This story is winding down! Coming to a close, it is. I'm ready to jump into My Last Breath, which from here on out will be nicknamed MLB (the inner baseball fan in me can't help but smile at the coincidence). Wow, getting off topic again . . .

Let's just get to the chapter, yes? Okay, so here . . . we . . . go!

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; I start college in a month, yikes; OMG over 700 reviews!; I had an arguement with my wall yesterday. Don't worry. I won!; Whenever I'm on the golf course and someone says 'Four!' I yell, "FIVE!"; I listen to the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean every time I finish a story; I am a Sherlock Holmes fanatic; I once saw a man riding a cow like a horse, saddle and all. I swear I'm not kidding . . . still think I own HG?

Chapter 24

Before I even open my eyes, I know that Peeta is awake. And when I do open my eyes, all I see is a pool of blue. "Hi," he says softly.

I laugh sleepily as I snuggle even closer to him, still half-asleep. "Hi. I thought we'd moved past monosyllabic conversations."

"I'm feeling reminiscent," Peeta says by way of explanation, his arms tightening around me in a way that makes me feel safe and loved. It's a glorious combination. I'd forgotten what it felt like. "And you do scowl a whole lot less when you're sleeping," he adds.

I scowl.

He laughs.

What a day this is starting out to be.

"I have a feeling about today," Peeta admits quietly, his voice serious as he holds me even closer. "I think today is our last day in the arena."

I sigh. He's right. A pit of nerves snake into my stomach and I fight the ridiculous urge to try and physically squirm away from them. Cato. Why does it have to be Cato? Cato, who has it out for me because of my eleven in training, which beat his ten. Cato, who has it out for Peeta because he made him look like a fool lifting weights the first day of training.

My mind forces me to think rationally, analytically. Cato is strong, skilled, and has a temper. I think back to his tantrum when he discovered the blown up supplies. Hair pulling. Screaming. Pounding the ground. If we could get him angry, he might make a mistake.

"Let's eat and then we'll head out," I say, not ready to face our future just yet. We will either be alive or dead in probably less than twenty-four hours. It's quite a thought to wake up to.

Peeta and I eat almost everything we have. We finish off the two rabbits and the squirrel and eat all the greens and berries that he gathered, though I make a point to place the pouch containing the nightlock berries we took from Foxface far away from all the food. Once we're finished, my hands and chin are covered in grease, and I realize for the first time how grimy I look and feel. It's been a while since my bath in the stream the day I woke up from the tracker jackers. We in the Seam may not place hygiene on the very top of our list of importance, after all, most of us are simply trying to get enough food, but I have never gone so long without a bath.

And thinking about it, I really want one. Maybe I can at least dunk my head in the stream and braid back my hair wet.

I know that Peeta and I are stalling when we've checked and rechecked our pack twice. For no reason really. We're only taking the one, filled with the first aid kit, an apple, a blob of cheese, and a roll that we saved from the feast Haymitch sent us.

"Let's go," I finally say, stepping out of the cave.

I immediately notice that where there was once a stream, there is now nothing more than hard-packed dirt. "They must have drained it during the night," Peeta says as I bend down to touch the earth despite myself. Bone dry.

"They want us to head for the lake," I conclude and Peeta nods.

I set my jaw, feeling determination flood me. One way or another, this was ending today. "Then let's go."

Peeta and I don't talk as we make our way through the woods toward the lake. My bow is loaded with one of my six remaining arrows, ready to fire in a second. Peeta has the knife tucked into his belt. Though we don't talk, occasionally Peeta will run his fingers down my arm, or he'll catch my eye and give me a smile. Little things. Little things that mean everything.

When we stop to rest at Rue's old camp, only a hundred yards away from where I'd killed Foxface the day before, we simply sit at the base of the tree, sipping water. I'm extremely glad that I refilled our water bottles last night. The heat of today is stifling.

Peeta and I linger at Rue's camp for maybe half an hour. We sit there, Peeta's arms around me as I rest my back against his chest. Occasionally, he'll plant a kiss in my hair or on my temple. Once, he kisses my neck. When I turn my face up to his, he doesn't hesitate to kiss my lips. My hand comes up to rest along his jaw, and I turn in his embrace so I'm facing him. Our kiss deepens, and my arms come up to circle around his neck. In response, Peeta slips his hand under my shirt, and the feel of his calloused fingers against the bare skin of my back causes a shiver to run through me. Peeta makes a low sound in the back of his throat, and it makes the fire burn brighter in my stomach. This kiss has turned frantic, having lost all its tenderness. Desperation fuels our kiss. Knowing this could be our last day.

My lungs are about to burst, and I break the kiss with an embarrassingly loud gasp, but Peeta's lips never leave me, shifting his focus to my neck since my lips are currently unavailable. "Peeta," I say, still a little breathless, which causes me to blush. "Peeta, stop. We have to keep moving."

Peeta looks up at me and smiles a little ruefully, before giving me a short, sweet kiss. "I know," he sighs. "I guess it's too much to ask to just stay here and keep kissing."

My lips quirk up in a small smile. "You'd be right."

"But you've got to admit this is more fun than facing potential death."

"Definitely."

Peeta and I both share a light laugh, and I marvel at his ability to somehow make everything seem a little bit better.

"Come on, Mellark," I say as I get to my feet, and I hear Peeta shuffling behind me.

We set off once more toward the lake, and I estimate that we'll be there in about two or three hours. Dusk will be falling. The closer we get to the lake and the Cornucopia, the more my nerves settle. Peeta is strictly serious now, so I can't count on his light words to chase away my nervousness. When we finally arrive at the edge of the plain that stretches out toward the Cornucopia, there's no sign of Cato. As a precaution, we make a circle around the edge of the woods, but we find no Cato lurking there, either.

The coast seeming clear, Peeta and I step out onto the plain and head toward the lake. We fill our water bottles and Peeta purifies them. Sitting by the edge of the lake, I look up to see that the mockingjays have gathered around the lake as well. Unable to help myself, I softly sing Rue's song.

The birds pause for a moment, seeing if they like my song, and then they all begin to sing back to me. "Just like your father," Peeta says softly.

I've always been unable to take a compliment. "I think they just remember."

As the mockingjays continue to sing, I hear the harmonic brilliance of Rue's little four-note tune. Sung by the birds together, but at different times, the unearthly harmony created is one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard. I wonder if anyone in District 11 will sing Rue's tune to signal quitting time now that she's dead.

Suddenly, the harmony begins to break. Notes remain unsung. Then, the birds are shrieking in alarm, and Peeta and I are on our feet within the second. My bow is ready to shoot and Peeta draws his knife. I'm scanning the woods when suddenly Cato bursts out of the foliage, running full tilt toward us. I see evidence of his fight with Thresh. His face is purple with bruises. But I don't understand the sense of urgency Cato has about him. His breathing is ragged, like he's been sprinting for a while. He doesn't even have a weapon. I fire an arrow, but to my shock it bounces right off of him.

"He has some sort of body armor!" I shout, but not in time. Cato is upon us.

And he runs right between me and Peeta, completely ignoring us. We look at each other in confusion before looking back toward the woods, just in time to see a large, ugly, wolf-like animal bounding onto the plain. Six others quickly join it.

Peeta and I are already running.

Muttations. That's the only explanation. Sick, horrible creatures created by the Gamemakers to spice up the Games.

My breaths are already coming in gasps as I sprint faster than I would have ever thought possible. My eyes seek for any sort of refuge. The Cornucopia is the only thing in sight, and Cato is already scrambling up the golden horn, having had the same thought process as me.

I'm about thirty yards away when I realize something very important. I stop and spin around. Peeta is fifteen yards behind me, moving as fast as he can with his injured leg. He sees my hesitation. "Go! Katniss, go!" he shouts at me, but I ignore him.

Instead, I hold my ground and raise my bow. I fire an arrow, hitting the mutt closest to Peeta's heels, and I'm immediately loading another. By this time, Peeta is only five yards away from me and I grab his hand and drag him along behind me. I can feel the mutts closing in on us as we reach the Cornucopia.

I feel his hands on my hips and then suddenly I'm tossed into the air, landing halfway up the Cornucopia, and I quickly finish the rest of the climb up. I spare a second of a glance at Cato, who is lying at the mouth of the Cornucopia, gasping and fighting cramping muscles. My attention immediately returns to the ground and I see Peeta struggling to climb up the horn. His leg is hindering him worse than ever, the excess exertion probably causing the wound to bleed. He's stuck the knife in his mouth, biting down on it so that he has both hands free to climb.

A mutt threatens to bite him, but my arrow is shot down its throat. In its last act before death, the mutt lashes out and inadvertently slashes a few of his cohorts. That's when I see the claws. Four inches long and deadly sharp. I reach for Peeta's hand and pull him up the rest of the way. We scramble toward the highest point of the Cornucopia. The mutts have begun to circle us on all sides, some of them standing tall on their hind legs like a bear would . . . but the stance is disturbingly human.

The mutts begin to sniff and scratch at the metal of the Cornucopia, yipping back and forth at one another, communicating. Then, suddenly, a single wolf-mutt begins to walk ominously toward the horn. It's just as large as the others, but something about it strikes me. Its fur is what I can only describe as blonde. And its eyes . . . they're a bright, emerald green. When I see that it's wearing a collar inlaid with a jeweled number one, I shudder in horror and my eyes grow wide.

It's Glimmer.

I don't have time to give this anymore thought because suddenly the Glimmer mutt is lunging toward us. It lands a mere ten feet away and tries to claw its way toward us, but the metal won't allow their claws purchase and slowly the mutt slides back down to the ground. The arrow leaves my bow without a thought, killing the mutt. Only then do I realize how my hands are shaking.

Peeta does too. "Katniss?" he questions, gripping my arm.

"It's her, Peeta!" I choke out, as my eyes scan the rest of the pack. Twenty one mutts. All of them different tributes. I see a red-haired mutt with amber eyes. Foxface. I see the ashen blonde coat of the boy from District 9, the one I fought the backpack for. And then, in the very back, the smallest of the mutts is dark-furred and has wide, chocolate brown eyes.

Rue.

"It's all of them, Peeta," I whisper. "It's all of them! The others. Rue and Foxface . . . it's all of them!"

When Peeta sucks in a breath, I know that he sees it too. "Do you think, no, they couldn't be . . . are those their real eyes?" he asks in disgust and horror.

Eyes? I'm not interested in eyes. I'm wondering how these mutts have been programmed. They seem intelligent enough, but do they have their tribute's memories? Have they been programmed especially to hate us because we lived while they didn't? What about the ones that we killed specifically? Do they actually see killing us as avenging their death?

Suddenly, I see a flash of dark fur to my left and shove Peeta out of the way, before sending an arrow down the throat of a mutt that would have taken Peeta down. It had to be Thresh. Only he would have the strength to jump that high.

I turn back around, but I don't see Peeta beside me. My eyes dart to my right toward the lip of the Cornucopia when I hear a muffled curse. While Peeta and I have been observing the mutts, Cato has been recuperating.

And now he's on his feet, a nasty grin on his face as he holds Peeta in some sort of headlock.

I load an arrow quicker than I ever have before, and it's aimed right between Cato's eyes. Now that I'm closer I can see that he's covered in a skin-tight, flesh-colored mesh. Body armor. No doubt what was in his pack at the feast.

Peeta is gasping for breath that won't come, pawing at Cato's arm.

My eyes narrow as I prepare to fire a headshot, but Cato's voice stops me, "Shoot me and he goes down with me."

I falter. He's right. If Cato falls, I have no doubt that he'll drag Peeta down with him. But, now, I'm stuck in a quandary. If I shoot, Cato falls and takes Peeta with him. If I don't shoot, Peeta dies of asphyxiation. Either way, I lose. Peeta dies.

Cato is smiling because he knows this already. I bet he has a sword or a weapon of some kind hidden somewhere on him. I can see the plan in his mind: Peeta dies, and then he takes me down. Cato is crowned the winner.

Suddenly, Peeta is moving. He kicks out at Cato's knee. Obviously caught off-guard, Cato stumbles slightly and loosens his hold on Peeta. However, Cato is trained far too well for his surprise to hinder him for more than a second. Quickly, he tries to recapture his hold on Peeta, but Peeta has his own wrestling background to fall back on and suddenly he and Cato are locked in a dangerous duel on the edge of the Cornucopia. One false step by either of them and they'll tumble over the edge. I can't possibly get a shot off and be certain that the arrow wouldn't hit Peeta instead. Both of them are moving too fast and too unpredictably, so I'm forced to wait for a clear opening.

But it appears that I won't have too.

Cato throws a wild punch toward Peeta's head, obviously getting frustrated by how Peeta keeps eluding a death by his hands. Unfortunately for Cato, Peeta keeps his cool. Ducking at the last possible second, Peeta capitalizes on an off-balanced Cato, catching his arm and then shoving the triubute from District 2 over the lip of the Cornucopia.

For a split second, I'm nearly knocked to my knees by an enormous wave of relief.

Until Cato miraculously reaches out and grabs Peeta's arm as he's falling, taking my boy with the bread over the edge with him.

Yes. That really did just happen.

And yes, I really am that cruel.

(evil laughter)

This is the price Peeta pays for me saving his leg. I know, I know . . . I could have just had Cato fall and that'd be the end of it but . . . where's the fun in that?

Okay, okay, MLB quote of the day comes from . . . let's see . . . Effie!

"You wouldn't know where Katniss is, would you? I think I've lost her."

(trust me when I say that this scene is hilarious)

Lots of love,

AC