"Maaaags," Sparrow wakes me. For the first time in the arena, I notice the stars. I know those stars. "I started going to sleep. I think that means it's your turn." She really does look groggy. "Don't eat any crackers without me."

"My manners are too good for me to start poking around through your stuff," I yawn. I'd have trouble getting around her into the pack in the first place anyway, considering the way she wraps her arms around it as she drifts off.

I'm going to have to focus a bit not to go back to sleep myself. The second watch is harder in that regard. Moonlight glints on the waves. I can see that the tide is coming in again. It never receded even near to my original marker from the first day.

I look at Sparrow as she's sleeping. Maybe I should suggest she braid her hair so it doesn't get too tangled. So far mine has stayed in place decently well. It's going to be so kinky and curled if I ever get the chance to finally take it out… When I reach up and touch one coiled bun, I realize that I have a better material for hook-making handy than any driftwood I might carve up- there are pins in my hair! If I take one out just one, it should still hold. I feel about carefully for the safest bet at not unraveling my hairdo. "Pincushion-head's got an advantage this time," I chuckle. If Beanpole wins these Games, that comment's for him. Sure, we were just kids at the time, but I won't forget his calling me that.

The tips of the pins are rounded, which goes along with their being allowed into the arena in the first place. It's a possible advantage I doubt a male tribute has even considered. For all the longhaired men I've known, none of them has been a hairpin-wearing type.

I work on the pin until the drawn, pushing it against the strong surface of the bamboo and twisting it as best I can with my hands. Hairpins, thankfully, were meant to have some give.

I drink a few sips more water, then give into my urge to wake Sparrow. I really want to eat another cracker. "Good morning, Sparrow!" I tap her shoulder.

"Huh? What?" Sparrows raises her head right away.

"Let's eat breakfast," I encourage her. "Look, I was industrious!"

"Oh, it's a fishhook. …Do you think you can catch something?" The possibility definitely interests her. "I want to see you do that."

"I'd need bait." Fish might come to a piece of cracker, but if they didn't come quick, it would turn to mush and float off the hook.

"What do you usually use for bait?" She brushes some loose strands of hair out of her eyes and retrieves the tin of crackers.

"Worms. Tiny fish. Other insects. Tiny pieces of meat." I shrug. Not all bait is created equal, but we can't afford to be too picky, either here or back home.

Sparrow passes me a cracker and I bite into it with relish. "Crispco! My hero!" I quip. "…Actually, this would probably go great with a piece of fish."

"After you, if anyone ever tells me that people ever think about anything besides boats and fishing in Four, I'm not going to believe them."

"I don't even know what people are obsessed with in Six," I counter, pouting. "Tell me more about it."

"Six is very industrialized. We make things there, assemble things. It's not like the brain trust out in Three. I mean, sometimes someone designs or invents something cool in Six, but usually it's just, "The Capitol requires three dozen new train cars for hauling lumber from Seven. Fabricate that for us, Six. Chop, chop." There are chemical labs and stuff like that too. That's where Teejay probably gets his morphling hookup."

My cracker went all too fast. I am starting to seriously hope there is something edible growing wild in this arena. "Hmm." 6 sounds very different from 4. "That's sad that a victor, with the funds and freedom to spend his time however he likes, has a drug problem. …But there was his sister, so…" I should cut Teejay Atticus some slack for his morphling. Sure, he won, but his sister followed him in being reaped, and she died.

"There are a lot of people like that in Six, actually." Thinking about it has made Sparrow pensive and, therefore, apparently generous. She hands me another cracker. "…Maybe we'd have better luck fishing for tributes than fish."

I feel the hair on my arms starting to stand up. That is a risky, genius, cutthroat idea. Sparrow is going to win the Twelfth Hunger Games. I should settle for being happy now that I happen to mostly like her and that I saved Faline Beaumont from becoming her prey. Is this where we go our separate ways? Am I willing to go fishing for humans? I don't know yet. But, it's true what they say about how you can't know until you're actually in the arena. I may not be willing to fish for my fellow tributes, but I am willing to entertain the idea.

"How would we do it?"

"Well," Sparrows lays out her thoughts thus far in a very serious manner, "You're the fishing expert, but I thought we could take out the rest of the crackers and use the Crispco tin as bait. I wish I had a bow and arrows. We could get up in a tree and once you'd pulled the tin in close enough, I could shoot them. …Without being able to attack from a distance, it gets a bit dicier."

"Well, we could sharpen some sticks to make javelins, but I don't think I can throw hard enough to do more than superficial damage that way. …And I know you've seen my aim."

That makes her smile again. "What usually happens to the fish you catch?"

"They suffocate out of the water. Sometimes the tough ones need to get knocked unconscious, but usually they're a bit tired by the time you reel them in. …That's for casual one by one fishing with a line, of course."

There's this gleam in her eye. "No one's going to chase that tin into the water," I say abruptly, "Except maybe Beanpole and he would never fall for that in the first place. And, even if they did- drowning- I don't think I could do that. Back home I learned how to save people from drowning. I'm not that despera-"

The rest of my word is lost in the blast of a cannon. Sparrow and I eye one another nervously. I suppose there's one benefit to the regular string of deaths these Games seem to be experiencing- the Gamemakers would much rather have us kill one another than do the murdering themselves. If things stay "interesting" they have less cause to pull out tricks to bring us together.

Something about this sobering moment causes Sparrow to snap another cracker in half and share it with me. "Enjoy Crispco now, because in ten minutes you could be dead," I think, but won't go so far as to say. …If I die and Sparrow wins, she's going to be the one to pitch me as the Crispco advertisement.

"You know, I didn't ask you yet- have you seen anything worth commenting on out here? Did you see what happened to any of the tributes who died before we met up?"

"Well, Wiley and Haakon got into something over the biggest packages at the Cornucopia right off the bat and it wasn't over by the time I collected some goods and got out of there. I stuck to the forest for cover. I sort of made my way back around there," she waved generically toward a region of trees back past where I had first burst out onto the beach. "There's sort of a slant to this whole place as far as I can tell. The Cornucopia's at the top."

"I thought the same thing. So…if we did go fishing, where would we set our bait?"

"I guess it depends on where people ended up settling. …Somewhere other than here."

"Okay, it would take a lot of caution and a lot of luck, but Juna told me that Haakon and Meridew had found some outcropping of rocks to hide out in. Maybe this is absolutely crazy, but what if we fed some little fish to the big fish, so to speak…?"

"If we could actually pull it off… It'd be inspired." Sparrow's impressed. "Well," she puts the tin back in her pack and zips it up, "Let's go get some more water and reconnoiter."

It's disappointing to think we'll never do this on a familiar beach back in District 4. It would be fun to teach Sparrow how to really fish or to goof around with her in a little boat. …The first time I meet someone from District 6- my first friends from any of the other districts- and it's guaranteed not to last. I have bad luck with friends.

Sparrow and I wind our way along to the creek. I think it's not just me- the beach really is smaller today. We wash off our hands and faces and I muse about the packages that were scattered around the Cornucopia and what they might've contained. "Flint, probably, some other packaged food…there can't have been only one canteen…Weapons…"

"There's no sense in getting too caught up in it," Sparrow shrugs it off, "We'll just have to keep our eyes open for some hand-me-downs."

At my suggestion, she allows me to run my fingers through her long hair and try to braid it back. My work is a little lopsided, but I finally near the ends and tie it off with a piece of brownish twine that came off a package. "How do I look?" Sparrow poses.

"Pretty good, considering where we are and what's going on."

"So, up the creek, or around on the beach?"

There's one thing I know for sure. "I don't want us to split up."

"I wasn't suggesting that," Sparrow smiles, "You can hold onto my arm the whole way if you want to."

Even though it's shrinking, I feel more comfortable on the beach. I pick the coast as our first way of exploring. Since this rocky hideout is supposed to stick out, I assume that means over the beach or the water. We should catch sight of it from down here, possibly sooner than we would if we trekked through the foliage. Sparrow offers her arm, half-joking, but I accept and hold onto it, which sets both of us to smothered giggling. Apparently I'm one of those sorts of people who laughs when they're stressed.

There are some different trees mixed in with the bamboo and others types I've seen so far. Some kinds of palms. I find myself hoping for dates and start scanning the branches. What else might be growing in this sort of climate? Hunger is making me kind of slow. "Sparrow," I stumble in my excitement and nearly bring her down with me.

"Oww, Mags, what is it?"

I release her arm and point up at the sight that has impressed me so much. "See those?"

A whole bundle of fat green things hanging off a tree. Sparrows blinks at them. "Are they edible?"

"They're bananas!"

"Bananas start out green?"

I head off to scratch myself up scrambling up the tree and pull some bananas free- some to eat now and some to carry in Sparrow's bag for later. I can't quite ascribe to the strategy of destroying food so some other tribe can't have it.

It's weird to keep coming across lines in the sand. Which can I cross? Which can't I? If, for instance, I can't kill, I imagine I can't win. The Capitol wants blood on their victors' hands. If Sparrow or Beanpole won because I couldn't kill, well, I could content myself with that, I think.

"I've never seen a banana growing before," Sparrow explains herself. That part doesn't surprise me. Most of the districts don't have the right climate for bananas. "We don't grow much food in Six. The only planting I've ever done was for a school project where we grew herbs in empty egg cartons."

"Growing food- on land- isn't a big industry in Four, but there's some recreational vegetable gardening here and there."

Sparrow struggles to get her nails into the somewhat tough, under-ripe peel to open it. I expertly break through mine and drop it down onto her shoulder. "Eew!" she lets out a tiny shriek, "Mags, don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry, sorry," I garble around a mouthful of mush. The banana has a sharp flavor. I love it. After eating the first one fast, I come down from the tree and eat two more slowly. "Banana pie, banana pudding, banana bread, fried bananas, eat them with ice cream if you can get it, or chocolate, or on pancakes…" I ramble on about the many ways I can think of to appreciate bananas until Sparrow can't stand it anymore.

"Ugh, that's torture, even if I'm not starving anymore," she chides me.

"Pa- uh, my father- does the exact same thing about shrimp."

"When you were in the tree, could you see any signs that anyone else had been getting bananas down?"

"No," I'm immediately sure what she's getting at.

""Then there are probably more trees or something else to eat somewhere else."

What's this? Sparrow thinks like a detective from the Peacekeepers, apparently. "How do you figure?" I try to make sense of it.

"Well, Juna came by here, right? And she left an easy trail to follow, so I have a hard time imagining no one else investigated things out this way."

"They might not have known they could eat green bananas. Maybe they weren't even sure they were bananas," I offer an alternate theory.

"Hmmm." It is a tricky thing to analyze. "Beanpole would know, right?" she muses weakly.

"I assume so."

We spend the afternoon walking around to where a fortress-like outcropping of rock reaches out from the hill, cuts off the beach, and juts over the ocean. We can't see anyone up there from our position at the lowest altitude of the arena, but no one probably sees us either or they'd be dropping rocks on us. We're easy targets with no protection between us and the fairly sheer rock face.

"Tricky, tricky, tricky," Sparrow runs her hand along the rocks, "We can't come up from behind them or from this side without special climbing equipment we just aren't going to get here."

"I think I would forget about Seven for now, though that's just my opinion. Maybe while we focus on other things, someone will crack that nut for us."

"I guess I'm just concerned they won't. And if it comes down to you and me, Haakon and Meridew…"

They would have the defensive advantage in there. I doubt they would stay holed up afraid of us until they were starved out. I understand Sparrow's plans and nod my head. We stand quietly beside the wall for a while, letting our thoughts swirl and eddy about inside.

"Let's try and go into the forest tonight and find a tree to sleep in, rig up some lines, see what we can catch?"

I haven't been thinking of much and Sparrow's so proactive, it's hard to turn her down. "I guess it won't hurt to try." I stroll along the wall down to the water. There are more rocks visible in the water here. Some of them might have broken off the outcropping. I think when the water is lower, they might form tide pools.

"Where are you going, Mags?" Sparrow pads up to the edge of the water, but doesn't follow me any further as I take advantage of the protection my boots provide to walk on the shards of rock amidst the splashing water.

The waves jump up to splash my pants, but it feels kind of good. Back home I tend to feel a bit more nimble doing this barefoot or in sandals, but with the bamboo pole to steady me, I don't think I'm likely to slip too devastatingly. Sparrow paces nervously in the foam as I move further out, trying to observe the shape of the backside of the rock fortress. Is it completely blocked off or does it open out over the water? We may not be able to get up there now, but with some kind of gripping hook…? And how high will the arena's highest tide be?

It looks… Open! It is open! An arm of rock juts out the back like a diving board. I can't think of anyway to use it now, but it feels promising.

I turn my attention down a bit more as I head back. If there's anywhere I should expect to find fish or other sea life, it would be around here, but nothing catches my eye, not even dashing little fish shadows. It's a disappointment. I wanted to fish. So much for my ability to anything useful out here.

"Mags, what's that?" Sparrow asks once I'm back within hearing distance.

"What's what?"

"Down by your left foot."

I look down. There's something glinting in the water and it's big. It's…a hook. A really big hook. I'm not sure I could haul in by myself the sort of fish that you'd use a hook this size to catch. I hold it up so Sparrow can see and carry it back to shore with me.

"That looks nasty," she says upon appraisal of the hook, but grins wildly nonetheless. "Guess somebody left you a present."

"I wonder how it ended up there." We both gaze solemnly up the steep rock face. "Do you think someone dropped it?"

"Maybe."

We retreat casually back to the banana tree to see if we can find a good tree or two trees close together that will hold us. I don't think we'll be able to get try high, so I can downgrade my worries about falling down in the middle of the night and breaking my neck. "I never realized how much I liked bananas," Sparrow chatters as she settles onto a perch. She's a better climber than I am and the approach of darkness isn't helping me any. Sparrow tries to give me tips, but I'm pretty much hopeless. A cannon fires and I lose all my progress, falling to the ground in an undignified heap. At least I don't receive anything more serious than a few bumps and bruises.

"At dark again, huh?" Sparrow muses. That wasn't the first time. "You think someone…or something…is on the hunt?"

"Well, traps are harder to see and avoid in the dark," I note. My annoyance at my terrible time climbing thus far lends me strength, if not increased ability, and I make it up the green, tropical tree this time. I settle in on a branch opposite Sparrow's and a few junctions lower, balancing things a bit. It's a good thing both of us are light. I wonder if there's some way I can safely tie myself here so I won't fall.

"Sleepy yet?" At least Sparrow is nice enough not to laugh at my pathetic performance.

"Tired," I sigh, "But not sleepy."

"Do you know how to make a net?"

"Sure. Usually we buy our big nets from the Crestas, but we mend them ourselves on the cheap when we can. And I've made little ones just to see if I could. Of course, a net I made out of natural fibers here wouldn't be as tough as any of those nets. It'd be more for show. Like," I laugh, "A wedding net!"

"A wedding net? What? What is that?" Sparrow is curious and amused all at once.

"It's a special grass net the mothers of the bride and groom weave that's put over the couple at their wedding."

"No wonder you're so easygoing. It sounds fun to live in Four. In Six-"

The anthem blares out and cuts Sparrow off. It was Padma from 2 and Petey from 3 today. Padma was another tough contender, size-wise. I imagine, if he's allowed to bet, Mr. Bronze may have lost some money with 2 getting knocked out on only the third day. Mr. Zimmer, on the other hand, can be content that Cadelle and I are still hanging on. Jack Umber has Korona.

"That's two districts out," Sparrow says when we can hear one another again, "Ten tributes down. And, uh, four districts with both tributes remaining." I try to calculate this out in my head, but Sparrow works fasters. "You and, uh, Beanpole from Four, me and Bailey from Six, the king and queen of the mountain from Seven, and the pair from Eight."

"Hmm," I answer. It's an interesting mix. I'm impressed that Daisy from 10 has managed to make it longer than so many physically intimidating tributes. I'd like to see her and find out her strategy, but it's an unlikely thing to happen, particularly as the Games wear on. Paranoia is only going to climb. I'm lucky to not only have Sparrow, but to know Beanpole is still out there. I can trust both of them. I like both of them. It's one of those times when there's, unfortunately, no chance of getting your friends to like each other. Even in the Training Center, they didn't seem inclined to hit it off.

"If you hang down your hooks, you could see what you'll catch," Sparrow suggests and politely raises a hand to hide her yawn.

"I only have one piece of twine. I'm not sure it would let my hook reach down far enough to snag anything anyway," I pull it out to show her.

"I don't know- if you got Korona by the ponytail or something, it'd still be helpful." Which of us, I wonder, does Sparrow believe is strong or brave enough to take down Korona? "…Well, you've got three hooks now, but I do have another piece of twine," she offers me a second piece from her pack, identical to the one I already have aside from its length (the one I used on her hair was definitely too short for this).

I'm concerned it won't be strong enough to hold the big hook I found in the water, so I thread my hairpin hook onto the long piece and tie the wooden hook onto the short one. I left my bamboo pole on the ground leaning against our tree, but I don't think this situation really calls for a pole anyway. I tie both lines onto the branch I'm resting on, but further out so the knots aren't immediately under my body. Hopefully if anyone or anything gets caught, I'll feel the pull without falling down. Secretly though, I hope that no one encounters my hooks in the first place.

"Goodnight, Mags," Sparrow leans her head on her backpack, which she's hooked over another, slightly higher branch. There are several lumps in it. I wonder what she has other than the cracker tin and bananas. Maybe that's what's making her so confident. It's not a bow and arrows though. She already said as much.

"Goodnight, Sparrow." And you too, Beanpole. Mrs. Mirande. Papa.