I awake suddenly and look over at the clock. It reads 6:34 a.m. I have slept more than an hour longer than I intended. In a panic I throw myself into action. I grab the remote and turn the television on, desperate for any snippet of information in relation to my dad. I quickly grab my clothes, and throw them on as quickly as possible.

A name mentioned on the television draws my attention.

"….dramatic escape by District Twelve tribute, Ava Herriot."

I reach for the remote again and turn the sound up. As I do Katniss stirs on the bed. "What's happening?" she asks.

"Something to do with Ava."

She sits up, eyes trained on the TV, fear apparent in her body language.

"Let's just watch this moment again, this girl has a will to survive that we possibly missed in her before!"

A recap is shown of Ava setting several traps and snares around the area she had been camping. She looks weak from a mix of thirst, hunger and exhaustion, but there is determination in her as she weaves traps and snares from the readily available vines.

A terrifying animalistic roar comes from the screen. From Ava's reaction it seems to be all around her; she has absolutely no idea where to turn to. She stays entirely still for a moment judging her next move when from the undergrowth comes the sound of snapping branches.

One of the adult female tributes comes running in to Ava's view, and Ava immediately turns and runs from her; she has no weapon with which to fight. But the female doesn't seem to be interested in targeting Ava. Instead she is fleeing for her life from whatever had created that terrible roar.

Ava is quick and light on her feet and has remembered exactly where she has placed all of her traps. She darts and weaves and avoids every single one. The older woman is not so lucky. She crashes through the jungle and moments later is tripped then hoisted up in the air by an expertly set snare. She screams for help, and Ava pauses in her running. She turns around on the spot looking back at the woman who has been left helpless and who is begging Ava for assistance. She takes a hesitant step towards her, then stumbles backwards as we see what the other woman was running from.

A mutt, larger than any I have ever seen comes tearing in to view. This creature is about three or four times the size of a man, lizard-like, walking on two legs. His enormous spiked tale thrashes the ground, and as he spies the helpless woman screaming in terror he roars again.

Ava has practically frozen. She slowly backs away in horror, her eyes as wide as saucers, then the mutt pounces. He is on the strung-up woman in a split second, his teeth tearing her in half, his claws rendering what was left of her a bloody and mangled pulp, and it is only this sight which seems to bring Ava back to her senses and causes her to run. The mutt spies her next and with another roar he starts to chase after her. The traps and snares she has set in this area will do nothing to stop this giant of a beast, but Ava has the gift of speed on her side. She runs as fast as her legs will carry her.

Katniss gasps as Ava trips over a root sticking out of the ground and falls. She turns on the ground to see the mutt coursing towards her, and holds her hands over her head, knowing that death is approaching, but the strangest thing happens. The mutt suddenly stops in his tracks. He eyes her malevolently and paces back and forth before retreating back in to the jungle with another roar.

The announcer gives the name of the woman eaten by this beast as Marji Crille from District Eight, before the attention is given back to Ava. She has regained her footing and is swiftly moving through the jungle, even more exhausted than before and now running on pure adrenaline.

Katniss seems to have forgotten to breathe. Her face reflects the horror we have just witnessed, and I'm sure takes us both back to last year; that last showdown at the cornucopia, the wolf mutts bearing down upon us. Next time either of us manage to sleep, we are sure to dream of teeth. I suppress a shudder at the thought.

"Are you coming back, or staying here?" I ask her. She shakes the violent images away and says she will catch up to me.

I turn to the screen once more in time to see a parachute land in front of Ava. She cries with relief as she opens it to find a tiny bottle of water, barely more than a few mouthfuls. Haymitch has been doing a better job than either Katniss or I have. And at least he's been able to do it without whoring himself. I hate myself for the thought and leave Katniss to prepare herself for the day.

A memory from last night comes back to me. As I was falling asleep I told Katniss I loved her… and she didn't respond. Was she asleep and didn't hear me? Or was she pretending so she wouldn't feel obliged to answer? Is she as disgusted at my behaviour as I am? I pray it's the former answer.

I wander back through the corridors of the training centre as if in a trance, dreading what will meet me at my destination.

As I walk back in to the main bar I cannot believe that there are still Capitol citizens awake and celebrating. Many of them, Briar included, hardly look to have moved since I left the bar last night. What confuses me is how bright, alert and chipper they all appear to be; these certainly don't look like people who have been drinking and celebrating solidly for almost nineteen hours solid.

Haymitch, on the other hand, looks exactly like someone who has been drinking for nearly a day without pause. Slumped down in a seat facing the screens, eyes barely open, a glass next to him that has been knocked over, spilling the amber liquid over the floor.

As I approach him he slowly raises his heavily lidded eyes to meet mine. When he speaks it is carefully and deliberately, as if he has to pull each word from the depths of his memory banks before saying it out loud. "If she don't move soon… she'll be dead." He raises his hand to point to Ava's screen.

I look at where he is pointing. Ava is still picking her way through the jungle, away from where she nearly met her end at the jaws and claws of the giant mutt. But she doesn't appear to be in any immediate danger.

"Isa clock," slurs Haymitch. "See?" He points to the screen showing the overview of the whole arena. "Different traps each zone. Five minutes. Gone."

I check the time. 6:54 a.m. Does this explain why the mutt suddenly seemed to lose interest in Ava? She'd crossed out the borders of his time zone? She's reasonably close to the beach in the sector she is currently in, but too far away to make it to the next wedge, and if Haymitch is correct this means she only has six minutes before whatever trap this area of the arena is hiding comes to life.

I swallow heavily. "Do you know what will happen?"

He shrugs. "Your guess's as good as mine."

I quickly find my father on the map. He and Yohan haven't moved from their shelter since last night. If other tributes have come past them they were clearly well hidden and were left undisturbed. If I have understood Haymitch correctly, and the sector that Ava is in is about to spring to life, it means that dad will have to move in the next three hours to have a chance at survival.

"Summa these deaths aint been pretty,"

"How many?"

"Huh?"

"How many people have died? How many are left?"

"Jeez, kid, questions, questions, questions! Dunno. Some. Not everyone."

I watch the screens with anticipation as the last few minutes count down until the trap in Ava's sector is activated. I look at her face, still flushed from the chase and full of a mix of fear and adrenaline. There is nothing we can do, and I hope that whatever happens is quick and painless.

I look at the clock. It has just turned 7:00 a.m. My breath catches and again I find myself unable to look away.

Something by Ava's feet grabs her attention. She shakes her head as if whatever she noticed was a figment of her imagination and carries on with her trek. After a minute or two she stops again and looks closer, then yelps in fear. The vines appear to have come to life. One wraps itself around her ankle and trips her. She reaches out and grabs hold of a sharp stone that was lucky enough to be within reach of her grasp and she furiously hacks at the vine until released. But more and more vines are springing to life, trying to trap her. As they grab her she slashes with the sharp stone. Her speed is again her saviour. She knows she isn't far from the beach, and it is to here that she is heading. After several fraught minutes she breaks free of the jungle and stands panting in the morning sunlight.

The vines seem to be trying to escape the jungle too. For a second she feels she has been granted a reprieve, but they shoot out and trip her once more, trying to drag her back in to the deadly jungle. She never gives up, hacking and slashing and tearing, until she once again finds her footing and runs as fast as possible towards one of the spokes connecting the outer arena to the central island. She darts along this until she reaches the cornucopia itself.

"Clever," says Haymitch.

I check the arena map. Surprisingly no one is left at the cornucopia. Not a single tribute has stuck around to guard the remainder of the supplies. I ask Haymitch about this. "Rafe," is his reply. "Fought them. They cleared out. He's well decked out." Is it possible for my stomach to drop any lower at such news? I didn't think it could be. I was wrong.

Ava soon realises the cornucopia is free from other tributes. She takes the opportunity to collapse on the floor, relatively safe at last. There are a few backpacks left laying around and she grabs everything she can, dragging them into the mouth of the cornucopia, where she will be hidden from view and can check the supplies at her leisure.

"Very clever. Underestimated her."

With Ava out of the way I return my attention to my father. Back in training he took my advice to learn about edible plants and is currently gathering tree roots, nuts and berries. Three hours. Something has to make him move within three hours. My eyes flick over to Briar who is talking animatedly with the same two women from yesterday. Again I am amazed by how alert they appear. Part of me considers talking to Briar for help again, but I fear for the price. I will have to make this decision soon however; three hours will not take long to pass.

Haymitch is sliding further and further down in the armchair. If I am going to do this without selling out to Briar again I'm going to need his help, which means getting him to sober up. I head to the bar, order a large black coffee, a tea, a jug of water and a selection of pastries.

As I'm waiting for my order to arrive I notice a waft of familiar perfume. I become aware of Briar's close proximity but say nothing. "It's not looking good, is it?"

"We'll see," I respond quietly.

"My offer still stands, you know."

I consider my words carefully. "It is certainly very generous of you," I begin. "And of course if I need help, you'll be the first to know."

"If?" she sneers. "More like 'when.' I'll be right here when you need me."

She returns to her friends and I watch her go with apprehension. Three hours to save his life. She may well be right.

I return to Haymitch with the breakfast. I take a pastry for myself and my stomach moans in protest at the addition of food after such along absence. Haymitch has fallen asleep while I've been at the bar. "Oi!" I say loudly, trying to shake him awake while keeping my distance; experience has taught me that being too close to Haymitch when he wakes isn't a wise idea. He wakes suddenly with a loud cry, lashing out in front of him. His eyes slowly focus on me. "Drink this," I tell him indicating the coffee.

"Why?"

"I need your help. Dad needs your help."

"What d'you expect me to do?"

"I don't know. There has to be something," I plead. "Anything."

"M'in no state to help anyone," he says, sliding down his chair again.

In anger I toss the water over him. He lashes out again, "The fuck you doing, huh?"

"Don't tell me you're in no state. Where did Ava get that water from, huh? It was less than an hour ago. Don't tell me you've drunk yourself in to oblivion in less than an hour. If you were capable then you're capable now, so get up off your drunken arse and help me!"

"Water? What?"

I feel like I'm losing my grip on this conversation. "The water. You sent Ava a bottle of water."

He snorts. "Not me. Told you, um no help to no one."

"Then where'd she get it?"

He runs his hands over his face in frustration pushing dripping wet hair from his eyes, "A sponsor, Peeta. Not me. They do what they want. We nudge them, cajole them, push them the way we want, but in the end they can do it themselves. Nothing to do with me."

"So. What you're saying is we're useless, right? We should just not care?"

He starts clapping slowly and sarcastically. "Eureka. Bread boy's finally learning."

I want to hate Haymitch for what he's saying. But as I look at him all I can feel is pity. "You don't believe that for a second. You do care. Don't you? That's why you do this to yourself. You care too much."

He refuses to look at me and I am sure I have hit a nerve. But his news hits me harder. He can't help me. In the silence between us Briar and her friends take the opportunity to laugh especially raucously at some private joke. I glance over at her again. Haymitch follows my line of sight. "Is he really worth putting yourself through all that?"

I clench my jaw and nod tightly. "Yes," I say quietly.

He gestures around the room. "And this… This'd make him happy, you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what world awaits him if he wins. You think this'll make him happy? He'll be comfortable in these sort of surroundings, will he? I don't know him, Peeta, you do. Maybe he will." He grabs the coffee I bought him, pours the dregs from his spilt glass in to it and knocks the lot back in two gulps before leaning back in his chair.

I can no longer bear to talk to him. My feet begin to move me inexorably towards Briar and her entourage. There is truth in what Haymitch has said. Is this really a world I want to draw him in to? But I cannot imagine a world in which he no longer exists.

As I approach her she looks up. "Peeta!" she exclaims, "Come and join us!" Another of her mood swings perhaps? She seems so jovial and easy going all of a sudden. She pulls out a bar stool and lightly pats the seat. I sidle up to her and perch on the proffered seat. "I bet I can guess why you're here."

I take a deep breath. "What we spoke about before… Can you put a stop to it?"

She smiles at me. "Awwww, so cute. No." She taps the end of my nose in a condescending manner, as if I were a small child.

"But you promised-"

"Shhhh. I have a little secret," she says.

Damiana Ivory starts giggling, "Briar, stop it, we'll get in trouble!"

"It's ok. Peeta's good at keeping secrets, aren't you, dear?" I nod, hoping beyond hope that whatever this little game she is playing is, it will help dad in the long run. She lowers her voice and leans in close to my ear. "Feedback on this arena has been… a little less than enthusiastic. Too many tributes being killed by the arena, not enough killing each other. So, when it comes back to midday the traps will be set off randomly, and only if things need to be livened up a little."

This is promising news indeed, except that my father will still be encountering something before the cycle of traps is cut off. "But dad-" I begin to protest.

"We may be able to make him move. Those cookies you sent before were certainly a novel idea." She winks at me, and I understand her meaning. Send him some more food, ice it with some kind of diagram, and hopefully get him out of there. "I'd want something… special from you though. Do we have a deal?"

"Something special?" I repeat, not liking how ominous those words sound coming from her mouth.

"Oh, don't look so worried," she says, gently shoving my shoulder. "Do you want me to help you or not?"

"Of course I do, but-"

"Well, that's settled then." She reaches in to her pocket and withdraws a small ornately decorated and bejewelled box. She opens this up and inside is full of a white powder. She takes a small pinch of this and places it to her nostril, inhaling deeply. Almost immediately she starts to giggle again. "Pick-me-up?" she says, offering me the box. I politely decline. "Suit yourself. You ready then, sweetie?"

It feels like a death sentence being passed down on to me, but I nod and follow in her wake.

As we are leaving Katniss is approaching, stress etching worry lines in to her forehead. She sees me walking with Briar and I flash her minute shake of my head in warning to not say anything. But I am still grateful that as she passes me she grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me in to her, placing a deep kiss upon my lips. "You too," she whispers to me before letting me go.

My heart lifts. What does she mean by that? Is she replying to what I said last night? Did she hear after all? I watch her disappear into the bar, and the storm clouds raging over me appear to dissipate somewhat. When a small amount of heaven reveals itself in the midst of hell…. perhaps I can cope with this after all.

A/N – Thanks for reading, and an especially big thanks to Prim-Rue94 for the massive support and encouragement. Cheers, doll!

I was thinking about the mechanics of this particular arena. I was always of the impression that the victors having to go back in was not random chance that had been decided 75 years ago, it was by Snow's design and wish to crush the growing rebellion. And this arena couldn't have been designed overnight – many of them were years in the making, so this arena would have been used for the Quell, no matter who was going in. But so many previous victors were killed just by the arena traps, and I'm certain that's not what the Capitol audiences really wanted to see, hence why they'll be random from now on, not just in keeping with the clock theme.

So yeah, please leave a review, they are the bread, non-dairy butter, water and oxygen of a fanfiction writer. Ta all!