It's possible, of course, that Beanpole has slipped away only momentarily for completely innocuous reasons. He could be getting something to drink or poking around looking for food or answering the call of nature. But when I wait, sitting up and swishing some water from my canteen around in my mouth and wishing I could brush my teeth, and I don't see or hear a sign of him… Well, I don't think Beanpole is coming back. I think he's really gone.

I'm alone again. And I'm hungry, which is such a small thing compared to some of what I've gone through, but… There's this weary feeling I get about how none of it ever ends. I'm sick of being hungry and tired and dirty and scratched up and thinking about my imminent demise. How much more will I go through for the sake of these Games?

…Am I at the point where it's reasonable to think about winning? I have one in four odds. I know about the shark (or shark-mutt-thing) just like Beanpole does, though I have a feeling Haakon and Meridew have probably seen it, whether they understand what drives its behavior or not. I've made it this far and every day I make it a little further...

I idly walk down to greet the tide, but it seems the sea has decided to come meet me on its own. The arena is definitely an island, and it's one the Gamemakers keep shrinking. That should make it easier to find Beanpole though. Even if we can't actually work together, I could return the favor of what he did for me, couldn't I? Shouldn't I? I can watch over him.

The water laps up and down, in and out. How long would I have to stay and watch to visibly account for its advance? Is it coming in faster or at the same speed as before? I can't tell.

It feels like a long time since I've been swimming.

Longer than I would ever have gone in 4.

I turn away from the water, heading in with thoughts of finding Beanpole on my mind. I try to scale one of the thick bamboo trees (I'm still not sure that "tree" is the right word for bamboo, but what is it then?) to take a look around, but it starts curving down under my weight before I achieve anything useful. The small branches smack the back of my head on their way back up as soon as I step off. "Oww! Oww!" I jump. Yes, everyone watching at home, this is me. Still alive, still an idiot. I have basically no luck with trees, so I think I will once again have the sense to keep my feet on the ground. Wherever exactly his quest has taken him, Beanpole's gone to spy on the pair from 7 (which could be completely wrong, but I just don't think he'd run and hide, so that's what I've decided because I have to pick something), so I make that thought my compass.

Where to spy on 7 than the place they've made their home base for most of the Games?

I circle around to the section of the arena I've been avoiding. The speed and manner in which I arrive go beyond rational caution. After all the time this location and the tough pair hanging around here have lingered around the corners of my mind, I've built it up into something nerve-wracking. I try to assess the spot objectively. A tall rock formation with a narrow split down the middle. It definitely looks defensible. The rocks rise up over six feet on each side. Without any points of reference I can't make a more accurate guess about it than that. I can only see so far in from this angle. I don't know what it's like in there for Haakon and Meridew- how much space there is to fight, what weapons they might have stored…

If Beanpole and I won't go in, Haakon and Meridew are going to have to come out. After they cleared out the rocks, I don't know if they actually killed anyone else in there. It sounded like they ventured out into the general vicinity. …Do they have the means to store enough food and water around there? Of course, it occurs to me, they already do go out, but only to kill and scavenge? And when the killing happens, is it on purpose, with the two of them seeking out prey, or does it just happen because they run into someone? I don't know enough about either Haakon or Meridew. Knowing their personalities would help me guess what they might do enough that it might make up for the difficulties caused by that same personal knowledge.

Apple's distaste for 7's escort probably didn't do my odds of hearing about them secondhand many favors. Haakon seemed to enjoy training. Most of his talking he did with the other big guys. During his interview he professed his admiration for their mentor, Kayta Hiro. It's not really enough to come together into anything useful for me. Meridew I can parse even less. I rarely saw her talking. She played sort of 'smart and silent' in her interview. No matter how strong someone is, I don't think they can get this far unless they're fairly intelligent. I don't think I'm going to underestimate them in that regard.

In that case, it's worthwhile to stay alert. I inch closer and listen. Morning isn't a likely time for them to be resting, right? Unless they stay up all night. But unless they think Beanpole and I have too, they should be wary, thinking we might approach at this time. Maybe they're not afraid of us though. Maybe they think we won't come looking for them. I don't hear anything. Don't they talk to one another? …Maybe both of them aren't there. Go nearer, or wait and see? I feel tangled up with indecision.

But doing nothing and just going with the flow of things hasn't serve me very well in the Games, so that's at least one point in favor of action as opposed to inaction. I'm also lacking a bit in patience because I'm hungry and worn out. "Gotta stay focused," I admonish myself.

I consider the supplies I have. Two of them are potentially useful, the fist-sized canteen half-full of water currently bulging out of my left pants pocket and the really big hook. The piece of foil and scraps of twine probably aren't going to do anything for me. The knife and small hooks I used earlier are lost, dropped or left in the targets they found during my chemical-fueled insanity. This isn't a lot to work with.

Toughen up, Mags! I'm willing to bet that even if one of them is there, both District 7 kids aren't. I can take one of them if I have the element of surprise on my side! Maybe? Maybe. The two most important things here: preparation and resolve. I pull out the hook and settle it into my hand. Ready? Ready.

I make my approach as cautiously as I can manage, but it still seems like every blade of grass that bends beneath my foot is as noisy as a creaking floorboard in the dead of night. At the last moment, at the edge of the hiding place, I whirl around inside. My eyes, my heart, my mind is working overtime to identify and neutralize whatever threat there is before me.

But there isn't.

The place is empty.

And if it's empty, the better for me, right, assuming I can figure out how to use this position to my advantage? But the better for me, the worse, I think, for Beanpole. He's out there and Haakon and Meridew might find him. We're operating completely randomly and independently. Think how it would have been if this had been an actual plan and we were going to trap our opponents in some kind of pincer movement. …It's probably going to happen all but the other way around.

My resolve weakens as I think about these things.

I have to acknowledge the one last truth of the Games I seem unwilling to commit myself to. To win, I have to give up on Beanpole. I can't save him, just like I couldn't save anyone else here. I can only save myself.

No matter how many times I consider it, it doesn't get any prettier. And it never will. Now that my ears are no longer trained so cautiously to pick up any possible sound made by Haakon or Meridew, I notice again the roar and rush of the sea. A few more yards and I won't just be beside it, I'll be over it. That sounds nice. I walk out, balancing carefully and setting one foot right in front of the other as I pass between the protection of the rocks and out over the water.

The breeze picks up, and I can't help but think that some Gamemaker did that on purpose- it's not enough to topple me, but I sway a bit and move my arms to steady myself. Did you worry for me for just a second, viewers back home? What are the commentators saying that I'm doing? Have I given up this far into the Games? Am I going to dive down into the water or smash myself onto the rocks?

The water level's gotten high enough that I could take that dive.

Maybe, soon, I will.

And, speaking (well, thinking) of things that are on the horizon, sooner or later, they'll come back here, won't they? Even if it isn't until nightfall. This has been a safe place for the pair from 7 to sleep all these days. I am doing my best to convince myself of this- that they'll return, that with only two others left they haven't swapped strategies- but the belief just won't take.

That's how it is with faith- you just can't force things. Weak or strong, you believe or you don't. So I hope that Haakon and Meridew (or, better yet, just one of them) will come back to their natural fortress when it gets dark and they're not able to see me and I don't fall asleep and I catch them by surprise, but I'm just not sure.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Waiting Games! …Unfortunately for the audience, I'm not brave enough to say this out loud.

I begin to examine the narrow space very carefully, searching out the most promising hiding place, although in broad daylight I don't think it's possible to stay within the rocks and be completely hidden from someone sharing that same space.

I decided I should try and stay closer to the water than the bamboo forest. If someone shows up and I chicken out, I can take my chances in the water. If I get wounded though and I'm aware of so much as a single drop of my blood having been spilled, I would rather take my chances with District 7. They might be willing to take enough mercy on me to make it quick. I'm not going to get that from the shark.

I settle down with my back against the stone on the right side of the space and wait. The sun grows stronger above me, burning down on the tips of my ears and my sloppy part. I'm getting a tan in the arena. Tans must be in in the Capitol this summer. The waves slosh along below, unchanged as far as I can tell, but probably still gradually on the rise.

There's time and boredom enough for my mind to drift. Considering the current combination of remaining tributes, I don't think the Gamemakers will interfere any at this juncture. Whether it's someone from 4 or 7, they can't possibly care who wins. But how that victor gets there is another thing. Maybe they won't do anything to directly influence the situation (or maybe they will?), but they have to be hoping for a showdown of me versus Beanpole or Haakon versus Meridew. The Capitol will come between bonds formed by geography (and time, in the case of Beanpole and me). This vengeance for the failed rebellion was something we brought upon our own districts just as much as on each others', right? 4 or 7, which way will it go?

Based on what I know and what I can see, there's no way to tell.

My stomach complains about how little it's been fed lately. I continue to wait. I think about how strong a pole I would need to try and catch that shark. …It's not just the pole and the line- I would need a stronger me.

I have to exercise some self-discipline not to drink the majority of my water as a way to fill my empty stomach. While it won't accomplish anything to let myself get too dried out, I don't want to leave my current position long enough to have to go for a refill (too risky) and just end up sitting here getting more and more nervous and feeling like I have to pee.

Just waiting like this, time is passing at its slowest.

I'm being boring now, no good for the poor audience, unless something is happening that I'm not aware of that's racheting up the tension. Maybe, right at this very instant, Haakon and Meridew are coming closer and closer to my location. Maybe they've even come across some sign that let them know that I'm here.

It's depressing when someone has the kind of death that gets played for laughs. No matter what the commentators say, back home nobody even joins in the merriment over these things. The closest I've ever heard is a nervous chuckle that escapes without meaning, some sad plea to a higher power. "Why is this happening? What can I do?" And, beaten down as we are, there isn't much anyone can do but survive.

That's right. Surviving is the way we- any of us- receives a chance to act.

If there's nothing I can do now, maybe there's something I can do later.

That's why Papa is alive. That, or he's a coward.

I know which version of events I want to believe.

I think I doze sitting up for a while, because when the cannon rings out, I'm awfully startled. …What was I thinking of? Or what was I dreaming? More vitally, someone else is dead and I don't know who and I don't know how this should change my strategy, if any.

I am really not feeling comfortable right now. As a matter of fact, I'm actually starting to feel cold, despite the sunlight still raining down on me. I sort of miss the jacket that I was sick and tired of just the day before. I shudder as I touch the goosebumps on my arms. What is there to be gained by moving? …Alternatively, what's better about staying hidden?

Three tributes left and the sea below me sounds louder, wilder. I lean out to take a peek and find my sense of hearing has done nothing to delude me. The water has risen since I arrived here and the gain has been fast.

Is this surge of the ocean for us or against us? How long will it continue to rise at such a rate?

Anxious, I get to my feet. The water is still a long distance from spilling over the edge here and lapping against my toes, but to the best of my knowledge, aside from the tops of the taller bamboo trees, this is the highest point on the island. Is there anyway here to get a better view? The stone I've been leaning against is too steep and slick to climb onto, as much as I wish I could stand atop it and look out over the vast majority of the arena island. The rock face to my left is similarly unaccommodating. But it's important to know. The less room is left to us, the quicker the end is coming.

Beanpole, are you still out there?

Less than five minutes later the twenty-first cannon fire of the Twelfth Hunger Games is followed by the twenty-second.

The odds for Beanpole aren't looking good.

And my odds…