A/N: Yay! This won the WIP Award! Thank you so much to everyone who voted.

Here is my (little) gift to everyone. This chapter is insanely short, especially compared to all of the others, but I think it works. It's over a hundred words longer than "The Morphling" at any rate, so...

Enjoy.

First Light

I clasp my hands over my mouth, but the sound has already escaped. The silence wears off and the frogs begin croaking again. Stupid! I tell myself. What a stupid thing to do! I'm frozen for a moment, waiting for the woods to fill with assailants. But then I remember that there's almost no one left.

The star-crossed lovers from District 12... it must have generated some attention in the Capitol. Why else would the Gamemakers have made this unprecedented change in the rules? Both of us can win. No, it isn't a can it is a must. I have to win. For the rebellion, yes, of course. But also for my family. For Cinna and Haymitch and Effie. For Edward. For Rue.

I look up at Edward inquisitively and draw in a short breath. "Edward, does that mean what I think it means?" I ask stupidly.

He smiles. "Yes, I think it does."

I'm about to ask more when something possesses me to throw my arms around his neck and fit my mouth to his— so I do. He fits his hand underneath my chin and holds me closer. For once in this games, I eagerly crush myself against him as his free hand twists in my hair, holding me securely to him. I finally close my eyes, and once I do, the passion in the kiss dies to simple mechanics. The emotion stirring in me ceases abruptly, because I've just had a disturbing thought— is he doing this for the cameras, or for me?

Of course, I've known Edward long enough to understand that he is, completely and one-hundred percent mine, and that he would never kiss me just for the sake of gaining attention from the sponsors. What do we need from them, anyways? I know the answer to that, too— matches, a flamethrower, or even the bow that I failed to steal back at the Cornucopia. I haven't gotten a gift yet, but I have a feeling they'll become more important as the Games wear on.

I realize that I froze without noticing when Edward pulls away. I look down, embarrassed, but he brings his hand back to my chin to make me look up. "Are you alright, Bella?"

I could lie and say that I'm fine, or I could tell the truth, therefore falling out of favor with the Capitol. Which could be dangerous; near the end of the Games, they do their best to make the favorite Tributes win. But I don't want to do either, and I don't want to remain silent, so I just shake my head and say, "Isabelle." For the cameras, of course. That's Cinna's name for me; it ought to win us some sympathy.

He isn't happy with this response. "Are you alright?"

"I'm... I'm tired, Edward," I say finally, and it sounds odd.

His brow furrows in confusion. "Tired?"

"Drained," I say quickly. "I feel like I could demolish a tank, physically, but mentally I'm exhausted. I haven't slept in over a week, and I'll never sleep again. Does it get any easier?"

Edward looks at me intently. "You need to hunt."

I feel full of liquid already, even a bit sloshy. I just drank a mountain lion and two deer. Shouldn't I be full be now? I swallow and feel the burn that proceeds gobs of venom. "We just hunted," I say.

He doesn't know how to respond to this either, so he just sighs and says, "I'm tired, too."

I pause for a few seconds. "So what are we going to do now?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Maybe we should wait until there aren't so many Tributes left."

"There are only eight," I say. "And Cato and Clove aren't just going to forget that we killed Marvel."

Edward shakes his head. "They didn't really care. They weren't expecting you to care, either. To care that Rue died, I mean. Clove thought you were being ridiculous."

"She thought that?"

He nods.

"While I was trying to kill her?"

"She... well, she didn't see you as much of a threat."

"What?" I ask, but it comes out as a hiss. He looks rather taken aback, like he's afraid I'm going to throw another tantrum. I glance down, ashamed of my outburst. Pushing a lock of fallen hair behind my ear, I give Edward a half smile and begin. "So who is there left to be afraid of? Melanie?"

"You mean Foxface?" asks Edward.

"I thought her name was Melanie."

"Well, it is, but she looks like a fox. And no, the boy from her District is dead. She's a mind reader. We had a bit of a... mental yelling session. At the interviews. And again when we were at the Cornucopia. She doesn't exactly like me."

"The only pair left is Cato and Clove, right?"

"Yeah, I think so. Unless I missed something while I was out."

"No... no, you didn't. Are they—"

"Together? Yes. They were together before the Reaping, they're even closer than before now."

"But you said they wouldn't try to avenge Marvel."

"They will definitely try to avenge him. Not because they cared about him, but because we hurt their District pride."

"Right," I say. "We defeated them."

"No, Bella. If there is one thing you should know about our kind—" I note that he said our instead of my "— it's that there is no defeat until every last one of us is dead. We never grow old. We're never weary. And we never, ever forget."

There he goes with his mysterious, immortal, brooding teenager voice again. "What are you implying?"

He sighs. "This isn't over until everyone here is dead."

"With two exceptions," I say with a smile, expecting him to agree with me.

He shakes his head. "Not even then," he says. I swallow.

"Alright. So Cato and Clove," I begin.

"Thresh and Foxface," Edward interjects.

"And then there's two girls— from 8 and 9... how have they survived this long?" I ask, though not really to him.

He ponders this for a second. "Two random girls. I don't think they received very high test scores."

"Hm. Maybe they've been hiding. We don't need anything except blood."

"Or maybe they formed an alliance," says Edward quietly.

It's rare, something like this. Only two of the top eight Tributes are Careers. And both of the ones from my district are alive. Rarely does anyone from 12 make it out of the fight at the Cornucopia. I smile.

"What?" asks Edward. Sometimes I think it would be so much more convenient if he could just read my thoughts. I tell him about my realization reluctantly, because he has probably figured that out by now. He nods along, but I can't help but feel stupid.

After a long silence, he says, "I think we should stay away from the jungle." I nod, and he continues. "The open field, too. That's where Cato and Clove have set up camp. Or maybe they're moving, now that they're the only two left."

"I hate staying in one place for too long."

He gives a knowing smile. "You're newborn, of course you do."

I honestly wish he would stop calling me that. "Well, so are they," I defend. "You remember yesterday. I couldn't stop moving. I doubt they could, either. We aren't..." The words I was about to say horrify me.

"We aren't what?" Edward questions.

I close my eyes; they burn with tears that will never fall. "We aren't the only ones who lost someone."

"Oh." He sighs, crestfallen. I look back up at him.

"And I'm not the only one that lost someone." I feel awful, but what can be done? This is the Hunger Games, I likely don't have time for remorse.

I can't help but wonder what they Capitol will hurl at us next. Another pack of wolves, a herd of angry animals, or perhaps rocks at high velocities. Whatever is next, it will likely be big. I glance up at the sky. Will rocks be falling from it ten seconds from now? No, no, of course not. They want the audience to see anything important that happens. It must be far past midnight. Although the Capitol parties late into the night, I doubt the majority is awake now. Come morning, something will happen again.

Edward seems to catch on. "They're giving us a break," he observes. "We should be ready."

I am puzzled. "No more ready than usual."

He shakes his head. "An entire day without a fight. That's massive."

"Edward, there were two deaths yesterday. Isn't that enough?" I ask, although I already know the answer.

"Of course not," he says. "The more action, the better. It's the Games."

"So what do you think will happen tomorrow?" I inquire. I have particularly gruesome images in my mind; until he tells me what he actually thinks, they will stay there.

He shakes his head. "I honestly have no idea. But it will be big."

"We should do as much hunting as possible, then." I smile. "There's no need to worry about the environment, is there?"

"I don't know... there might be," he replies quietly. "They could lure all of the animals into one place and draw the Tributes together. Worse yet, we may run out of things to hunt. And then..."

"The only source of blood is in the Career's camp."

"I'm thinking worse."

I pause. "They eliminate every source of blood in the arena." And then it's game over for the newborns. Edward would be fine... until he had an encounter with someone other than me. "I hope you aren't giving them any ideas."

"I doubt it," he replies. "They've probably planned this down to the millisecond."

I blink. "Are you suggesting that the Capitol chooses the Victor?"

"No." He gives me the pouty look that means he is not going to elaborate. I sigh.

I glance up to the sky. There is a bit of light flooding in. Too little for humans to see, but I am not human. And I'm not really a vampire, either, a small, persistent voice adds. I combat it with the memory of the mountain lion. "It's almost dawn," I say, changing the subject. "When do you think it will—" begin.

A piercing, female scream flies through the air, gradually deteriorating into a feral shriek and a hiss. "Help me!" someone unfamiliar yells, hoarse. "Help, me, please!" Her final word trails off into another cry, the only proof that the screamer is still alive. She wails again.

I tilt my head to the side and hear the quickened footfalls that follow.

"Bella," says Edward, anxious. "I think it begins now."