So, I'll admit that this story isn't my best ever. However, if you like this story you'll love my SYOT Quiet Like the Snow. I also highly suggest you checck out my other story, Finnick Odair's Many Stalkers. So, there is some incredibly obvious (if you ask me, anyway) foreshadowing this chapter. Can anyone guess whats gonna happen? I hope so! Tell me what you think in the reviews! :)

Feral woke up to dark blue eyes. "Uh… Zephyr?"

"No," the voice wasn't Zephyr's. "It's me." Suddenly everything came back to her so fast. The cannon blasts, Hera's body, Zephyr being murdered, the cave-in, the river… She remembered everything.

"Rowan!" she exclaimed sitting up so quickly she almost hit his head with her own. She looked around frantically. They were in the marsh, under a towering tree with branches almost as wide as Feral. The ground was damp, but not as wet as the rest of the marsh. It was slightly elevated. Feral's bow and quiver, which had lost almost half its arrows in the river, sat a few paces away. She considered making a break for them and shooting Rowan. But then she realized that if he wanted to kill her he would have. "Who else is dead?"

"Hera, Teck and both tributes from District Nine all died on Day Eight. Since then-"

"Whoa, wait," Feral interrupted. "You said since. Rowan, what day is it?"

"Day Eleven," He replied blankly. She gasped and lay back down on the moist earth. "And I'd really appreciate it if I could finish my sentences." Feral glanced at him. He looked tense and tired. He wasn't the kind teenager she had met before the chariot race. The arena had changed him. Or he had never been who she thought he was to start with. "The girl from District Three died on Day Nine and so did the girl from District Two. No one died yesterday and there haven't been any cannon blasts today."

"Oh…" Feral nodded. She looked up suddenly. "Rowan how did you save me? The last thing I remember was being sucked into an underground river! You couldn't have gotten me out of there!"

"I didn't," he shrugged. "I found you washed up on some rocks in the swamp a little ways away."

"Oh…" she said again. Rising to her feet, Feral tried to stand up but shook so badly she immediately tumbled to the ground again.

"Be careful," Rowan said, at her side immediately. She could tell he had just remembered that he was supposed to be in love with her, and his acting skills were superb. Feral, however, could see the lies in his eyes.

"I will," she promised, making sure to look in love. Suddenly she flicked her gaze away, feeling guilty about being to close to him after Zephyr's death. She had truly loved Zephyr. She didn't even know Rowan anymore. After a few more attempts at standing she got her footing again. "I'm going hunting," she announced even though her head was spinning.

"Oh, no you're not," Rowan said firmly, standing as well. "You are too weak. Besides, I'll just catch some fish for us. You stay here and rest while I go fishing." Feral wanted desperately to object but figured that would reflect badly on her to the cameras.

"Alright," she sighed instead, sitting down and leaning up against the base of the tree. As she waited for him to return she considered her position. Her only option at the moment was to let Rowan take care of her, no matter how terribly annoying it was. She was in no condition to do anything else. But once she was healed… what would she do then?

When she was thirteen a mother had brought her son to Feral. He had fallen out of a tree, which wasn't uncommon in District Seven. The difference was that he had landed on his head. There had been a huge five inch gash on his forehead and he had lost a lot of blood. She had managed to keep him alive, but he had to stay at her home for several weeks. Even then it took him a month before he fully recovered.

Feral's injuries thankfully weren't as bad as his had been, but she knew it would at least take her a week to fully recover. Most Hunger Games only lasted for two weeks, and it would take her at least several days to be strong enough to support herself if she needed to. She might not have that much time.

A cannon went off and Feral wondered who it was. She prayed it wasn't Rowan, because if it was then she didn't stand much of a chance.

She watched a bird fluttering around in the branches above her head. Eventually it settled down on a certain branch. Slowly Feral pulled herself over to her bow and her quiver. Notching an arrow she carefully took aim. It took all of her focus to shoot the bird out of the tree. Its song was cut off abruptly as its life was ended. Pulling herself over to the dead bird she yanked the arrow out of its head and used the arrowhead to skin in. By the time Rowan got back she had already cooked it and was eating it.

"Why did I even bother to go fishing…" he asked, three fish tied to his belt. "If you were just going to catch something anyway?"

"Oh, come on," Feral grumbled, plopping a piece of cardinal in her mouth. "It landed right above my head; it was such an easy shot! And I hate feeling useless, I needed to do something."

"Fish don't keep well," he growled in response. Feral could practically feel them loosing sponsors…. or at least him loosing sponsors for being so stubborn. Feral turned her fox charm back on. She shrugged and after a few seconds cocked her head to the side and smiled crookedly. "What?"

"Nothing," she giggled. "Just thinking about how handsome you look, even when you are covered in blood and dirt."

"Thanks," he said looking surprised. He grinned, remembering again how important sponsorships were to them. "But nothing could compare to your beauty." She giggled and they ate in silence for a little while. They finished and just sat around quietly, each lost in their own thoughts.

Another cannon blast went off. A Mockingjay let out a warning cry and the entire forest went silent as the hovercraft appeared and lifted away the remains of a body. It was so close to them that Feral could see everything clearly and in detail. It was Jenn and she had been stabbed by something.

"That's not a wound you'd get from something in nature…" Rowan said as the hovercraft disappeared. "That's a wound you'd get from a weapon, like a spear or a sword."

"The Careers?" Feral asked fearfully.

"We need to leave," Rowan stated. "That was to close; they could find us any second." Rowan madly grabbed all their belongings. Feral strapped her quiver over her shoulder and grabbed her bow. He helped her unsteadily to her feet and they went as quickly as they could with Feral falling over rocks, sticks and even the occasional flat surface.

At one point she tripped over a tree root and fell to the ground. Rowan was at her side in seconds and she raised her hand to take his so he could help her up. Her arm was bleeding. She glanced over at where it had landed to see a broken tree limb, the shattered end splattered red with blood. Feral ignored it afterwards, pulling herself unsteadily to her feet and persevering on. The wound wasn't at her wrist, thank god, but instead just slightly below her elbow. However, the injury was deep and blood streamed out of it while she tried hard to ignore the pain.

They pushed on until the sun began to set, when they finally fell over at the base of a tree. Rowan tossed her a bandage, one of their only three, and she wrapped it gratefully around her arm. It wouldn't do too much to help but it was better then nothing. "Do… you think we went far enough…?" she panted so exhausted that she could barely speak.

"Yeah," Rowan nodded, out of breath but not looking at all tired. "I think so."

"Hey," Feral said after awhile. "We're down to seven tributes."

"Eight."

"What?"

"I counted eight."

"Oh, well, whatever," she shrugged. "They'll be doing the interviews with our families. Gosh, I hope Tier doesn't say anything stupid. And my little sister, Willow, she's so camera shy…"

"I don't know who they'll interview for me," Rowan said, looking at the setting sun.

"What do you mean? Don't you have a family?"

"Not anymore," he murmured. Feral wanted to ask more but tears were welling up in his eyes. She knew when to shut up. She continued to think about what it would be like for her family having to do an interview. She was worried deeply that Tier would blurt out some insult against the Capitol that would make her look bad, or even get him arrested. Then there would be Sage with her snapped comments and dry remarks. She was nice and kind to her friends and family but she wasn't nearly as welcoming with anyone else. Willow might be so nervous about having people in their home that she'd forget to lock the cabinet with all of Feral's healing supplies. Her herbs were illegally obtained after all. Pinn would probably do a good job but her father might refuse to speak to them completely.

I'm in the final eight, the thought finally hit Feral and she couldn't help but perk up a bit. She had never realized up until that point that her chances of winning were improving. But of course, she had been unconscious for three days and then had just been stabbed in the arm with a broken tree limb, so maybe her odds weren't as good as she hoped.