DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Hunger Games. Why would I write fanfiction if I owned THG? All rights belong to Suzanne Collins. Read along, people!

The very next day, Haymitch visits me. The sign of his visit definitely isn't a good omen. He only comes to visit now when there's something bad happening.

"What, Haymitch?" I demand.

He flops into a chair and says bluntly, "You're not going to like this."

"What?" I persist.

"Coin's sending you to Two."

"Oh, okay." I say, relieved. "That's not that bad, Haymitch. I don't see any problems."

"Tomorrow." He clarifies.

"WHAT?" I shriek. "That's the day before Finnick and Annie's wedding!"

He rolls his eyes and nods. "Yes. Coin thinks that would be a good day for you to go." He catches my eye as he says this, and ever-so-slightly raises one eyebrow. I can tell that's all he can say here, where the security runs rampant.

"Um…Haymitch?" I offer tentatively.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"DON'T call me that," I snap, then continue. "Would you like to come hunting with me this afternoon?" I throw him a significant glare.

To his credit, he plays his part well. "And why should I do that?" he asks, reminding me of the Haymitch I met on my first train ride to the Games.

"Because I think it might make you feel better," I adlib. "Cause, you know, you don't have any alcohol?"

Haymitch rolls his eyes. "I've been without alcohol for four months," he tells me in a well, duh sort of tone.

"Haaaymitch."

"Fine, fine!" He raises his hands in a mock surrender. "I'll come with you on your stupid hunting trip if it means that much to you."He saunters out the door.

I flop on my bed, putting my face in the pillow, about to explode from the laughter.

I wander down to the training area and practice some with my bow, the one whoever-it-was made me that responds only to our touch.

I practice some shorter distances and longer distances.

I shoot at the lights and am rewarded with sparks. The guards on duty look at me funny, but I don't care. I'm the Mockingjay. They can't damage me.

Later, after lunch, I go visit my prep team and Posy. Annie's there, too. Octavia gave her a little swatch of purple velvet fabric and she strokes it while waiting for her dress to be ready.

Annie in the dress is beautiful. My prep crew did a wonderful job.

"You look really pretty, Annie," I tell her. "Finnick will love your dress."

My prep crew also asks me to find some flowers from my hunting area for Annie's bouquet and her hair. I tell them I'll do it the day of the wedding.

The bride, groom and I also attend the Command session on their wedding. It's quite interesting to watch them hash out the details.

When you say 'wedding', Plutarch believes in a four-day party complete with feasts and fancy outfits. Coin thinks of signing a piece of paper and being assigned a new compartment.

Finally, they decide on not a district-wide party like Plutarch wanted, but not nothing like Coin wanted, but a small wedding for 300 lucky 13 citizens.

Of course, the first ones on the guest list are the victors. Me, Haymitch, and Johanna. Peeta isn't invited, only because of his "condition," as the way Finnick put it.

Prim. My mother. Peeta's family. Greasy Sae. The Hawthorne family. 13 citizens that Finnick and Annie especially like. Before long, the list is full to the brim and I bring the invitations to each invited citizen. I save my mother and Prim's compartment for last out of the ones I'm delivering.

"Special delivery!" I call, handing the letter to Prim. She eagerly scans it and shrieks. "Oooh! Katniss, are you going? I can wear that dress you got me from 13!" She continues to ramble.

"You're invited too," I tell my mother.

Prim naturally wants to know all about the wedding, so I start to tell her everything I can remember until I glance at the clock. 4:45

"I'm going to be late for hunting!" I cry. "I'll see you guys later."

"Bye, Katniss," Prim waves, "I love you!"

"I love you too!" I shoot out the door and run over to Haymitch's compartment.

"HAYMITCH! HaymitchHaymitch!" I call. "We're gonna be late!"

"Geez," he says. "It's not that exciting."

"Shut up," I say, grabbing his arm and escorting him to the entrance.

The guards at the door suit us up, and I take my bow and arrow and make Haymitch hold the game bag.

"Gross," he comments. "And so you put dead stuff in here?"

Hunting with Haymitch is worse that hunting with Peeta. At least Peeta tried. Haymitch is managing to step on ever twig and leaf along the way.

Even so, I collect two squirrels and a rabbit.

We ditch the trackers about ten feet away in the game bag and go sit on a hollow log.

"Coin wants to kill you," he says without preamble.

I'm taken aback. Why would Coin want to kill me? I've done nothing. "Why?" I ask, stupefied.

"Because if we win this war, there'll be a new leader. And so far, you've proven you don't like Coin very much."

"That's an understatement," I say, and Haymitch chuckles.

"Yeah, I know, sweetheart. But obviously you'll throw your support to a candidate. Coin plans on running. If you don't support her, she won't be happy. That woman can most definitely keep a long grudge."

"So she's sending me out, not to help, but to try to kill me?"

He nods. "Pretty much."

We sit in silence for a long time, until finally Haymitch says, "Wanna know something else?"

"Sure," I say. Anything to take the thought away that I basically have a death threat hanging over my head.

"Peeta—" he begins but is suddenly cut off by a different noise.

Sirens.

Haymitch frantically snatches up the game bag and I my bow and arrows. He rustles around until he finds our trackers and tosses one to me. I stuff it in my sock and we start running as fast as we can.

It's the arena all over again. We're both in better shape than I thought, which is good because we went far away from the entrance.

I really need to stop having long philosophical thoughts when I'm running for my life.

I suddenly glance up, having seen a shadow on the ground. Hoverplanes. Loads of them. All emblazoned with the Capitol seal. We're nearly to the entrance now, and we yank at the door. It's stuck. Not locked, stuck.

I glance up. The hoverplanes are preparing to drop the bombs.

We are going to die.

It struck me I haven't given you any lovely cliffies for a while, so here you are. One of the worst cliffhangers to ever be invented. Mwahaha!

I'm trying to keep theses A/N's short so they don't delete my story, so I'll most likely post news on the forum group. Be sure to check that often!

As always, reviews are appreciated!

~~FuzzySocksAndWriting