A/N: Well, we're here for another update! Friday is upon us again . . . THANK GOD.

Well, I'm officially on break and have been since noon Monday. I've spent the rest of this week just relaxing and enjoying the knowledge that I kept my 4.0 for my first semester of college. However, rest assured that starting next week I am immersing myself in Come Rain or Come Shine. I expect I might have ten or so chapters left of that one. Boy, I absolutely cannot wait to rewrite the ending. Oh, the many plans I have!

And yes, I know the quotes I'm giving you have your heads spinning with ideas as to what will befall Peeta and Katniss in CROCS. All I can say is . . . don't jump to conclusions. In this case, the obvious answer is not the truth. I won't lie and say that Peeta is going to be frolicking in a field of flowers happy as can be. In fact, it'll be quite the opposite sometimes and Katniss is just gonna be plain miserable. And yet I promise that despite all of the suffering that they'll both go through, their love will be as strong as ever, however tenuous it may seem at times. That is probably what makes CROCS the most heartbreaking. I honestly hope that at some parts during CROCS you will absolutely loathe me. I'll be the first to admit I'm quite evil to PK in CROCS. However, never fear. You just gotta trust me. ;)

And now that all of you are in such a good mood, let's get back to the current story.

So, this chapter is a lot of fun for various reasons. I think you might just find a little fluff for PK (yes, I managed!) and of course a really badass moment for Katniss. She may be preggers, but she's still the Girl on Fire!

Movie quote for the day comes from Star Trek . . . the blooper reel . . .

"Spock, I look forward to the destruction of your planet and every planet around it. You will die. Your people will die. J.J. Abrams will die . . . You will ALL die." - Nero a.k.a a very well made-over Eric Bana

Random Disclaimer: I do not own CF, though I do own a rather fantastic fedora; "Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?"; "Why is the rum always gone?"; "Why so serious?"; "I'll get you my pretty! And your little dog, too!"; "I am Asneeze, father of Achoo."; "Dobby did not mean to kill . . . only to maim . . . or seriously injure."; "My precious!"; "Puny god"; "So that's what it feels like"; "Yeah, I can fly."; "There's only one God, ma'am, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that."; "Your skin is pale white, you dress fashionably, and you abstain from sex. . . I know what you are . . . Jonas brother"; "Snakes. I hate snakes."; "When you marooned me on that god forsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate: I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."; "It's like Christmas, but with more . . . me."; "It's the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."; "It's beautiful isn't it, Harry? The moon."; "Hang on, everybody! I wanna try something I saw in a cartoon once!"; "Well that's as clean as it will ever be."; "Slimy, yet satisfying."; "You may not like it Minister, but you can't deny . . . Dumbledore's got style."; "Over that boy hand!"; "Don't ever hit your mother with a shovel. It leaves a dull impression on her mind."; "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to die!"; "There's a jungle cat in the bathroom!"; "Any guy can sweep a girl off her feet; he just needs the right broom."; "I suffer from aviophobia - it means fear of dying in something that flies!"; "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."; "I should have brought you a sedative."; "What's your secret? Mellow jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?"; "My mother warned me about getting into cars with strange men."; "Spock, I look forward to the destruction of your planet and every planet around it. You will die. Your people will die. J.J. Abrams will die . . . you will ALL die."


Chapter 32

Tick, tock. It's a clock. I can see it in my mind, the twelve wedges that make up the arena, with the lightning at midnight. The wedge to the right, the blood rain, is one o'clock to two o'clock. The next wedge, two o'clock to three o'clock, is the fog. And then three 'o clock to four o'clock is the monkeys. Then there's the wave, which is at ten o'clock. Every hour brings a new horror. As one ends, another begins.

But do the individual horrors confine themselves to the jungle? Not necessarily. The wave at ten eclipsed its entire wedge, all the way to the sea. The blood rain is still falling, and we're on the wedge below the monkey segment, which is much too close to the fog for my liking. And if the monkeys come back . . .

"Get up!" I shake Peeta awake first, though I don't really need to. He was awake the moment I spoke. Wordlessly, he begins to help me wake the others. "Get up! We need to move!"

Johanna and Finnick both wake and reach for their weapons, thinking that there's a threat. However, when they quickly look around and see nothing trying to kill them, they look at me with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

"And why should we do that?" Johanna asks.

"The arena's a clock," I explain. "It's what Wiress was going on about. Tick, tock. It's a clock. Think about it. The twelve tolls last night. Midnight. And then right after that the lightning storm began and then after that the blood rain. Just like clockwork. Every hour something new starts." I continue to explain myself, and by the time I've finished, everyone believes me.

But Johanna will never admit that I'm right about anything, despite our rather emotional discussion only an hour before. Her excuse for agreeing to move is, "Better safe than sorry."

I don't mind. It's Johanna being Johanna.

We collect our supplies and Peeta helps Beetee back into his jumpsuit. I shake Wiress awake, and she immediately says, "Tick, tock!"

"Yes," I soothe. "Tick, tock. It's a clock. The arena is a clock. You were right."

Relief floods Wiress's face, someone finally having figured out what she was trying to get across. I bet she's known that the arena was a clock for a long time. Probably the minute she heard the bell toll. "Midnight," she says, and I nod.

"It starts at midnight," I confirm, and am immediately swept up in a memory.

Dancing at the Capitol at the end of the Victory Tour with Plutarch Heavensbee. His mysterious gold pocketwatch with the vanishing mockingjay. It starts at midnight. He'd given me a clue. But to what purpose? Surely he hadn't known that I'd be a tribute in the Games, not yet anyway. Maybe since he thought I would mentor?

I shake my head clear of these retrospective thoughts. They don't matter right now. I help Wiress up and she points toward the blood rain. "One-thirty," she says.

"Yes, and a terrible fog starts at two," I tell her. "We're going someplace safe now."

Wiress smiles and follows me obediently. I offer her some water and she drinks nearly a quart and eats a handful of shellfish, much more than I was able to coax her to eat only a few hours ago. Her inability to communicate has now been resolved so she's functional again.

I check my weapons and place the spile and the ointment in a parachute and then tie it back to my belt. Beetee is still hovering on the precarious ledge of unconsciousness and consciousness, but when Peeta tries to lift him, he objects. "Wire."

"She's right here," Peeta assures him. "Wiress is fine. She's coming, too."

Peeta, you're too much of a romantic. However, I still can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips as I pick up the coil of wire from the ground and place it in Beetee's hands. "There you go, Beetee," I say before looking up at Peeta, a smirk playing at my lips.

"Not a word," Peeta orders, but I can see that he's fighting a smile. He picks up a now nonresistant Beetee and asks, "Where to?"

"The Cornucopia," Finnick suggests. "To watch. Just to make sure we're right about the clock."

No one sees anything wrong with the plan, so we all begin to walk toward the golden horn-shaped structure gleaming brightly in the sunlight. It's like a beacon, drawing us in. I see it as a good opportunity to look over the weapons again. Maybe we might find something.

We approach the Cornucopia with care, despite the obvious sense of abandonment that surrounds the structure. The last thing we need is to be caught off guard by three Careers. However, the little island appears empty, except for us, so we all relax just a little bit and busy ourselves with mutual tasks. Finnick and Johanna begin to scour the remaining weapons, and Johanna whoops in triumph when she excavates a pair of deadly axes from the pile. I watch as she hurls one toward the Cornucopia, kind of like a warm-up exercise. The axe embeds itself into the Cornucopia, denting the golden metal.

I'm glad that Johanna is not my enemy.

Peeta sets Beetee down in a small blip of shade provided by the Cornucopia, and then asks Wiress to take the coil of wire and wash it off since it's soaked in congealed blood. Wiress nods happily in reply and skips to the water's edge where she repeatedly dunks the coil in the water. She begins to sing a cute little song about a mouse running up a clock. It must be for children, but Wiress doesn't seem to care. It makes her happy.

"Oh, not the song again," Johanna complains with a tortured groan. "That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking."

Suddenly, Wiress stops her song and abruptly stands. "Two," she announces, pointing toward a wedge of the arena.

We all follow her pointing finger and see the deadly, poisonous fog creeping out onto the beach. Wiress was right. It's two o' clock and the fog has started. "Like clockwork," Peeta murmurs as he gazes at the fog. "You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress," he adds, but by his voice you can tell that his mind is elsewhere.

Our eyes meet and I know that we're thinking about the same thing. How long will the memory of deciding to leave Peeta to save myself haunt me? Guilt floods me, despite the fact that I know I'd made the right decision, and that just makes it worse. How could abandoning Peeta ever be right? Peeta, as if sensing my turmoil, takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He doesn't begrudge me for my decision. We both know who is the most important between us. The baby. Everything is about the baby now. Every decision we make.

Peeta breaks eye contact first, and my gaze finds the sand beneath my feet.

Wiress begins to sing again, happy as she can be, dunking the coil of wire in the water. "Oh, she's more than smart," Beetee chimes. He appears to be coming back to life. "She's intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines."

"What's that?" Finnick asks.

"It's a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there's bad air," I explain.

"What does it do? Die?" Johanna snorts, and my lips purse in a thin line as I choke back a sarcastic retort.

"It stops singing first," I say. "That's when you should get out. But if the air is too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you."

I don't like all this talk about death. The mention of the mines reminds me of Gale, and how he's trapped miles underground in a deathtrap that took away both our fathers. A place where 'accidents happen.' Although Snow seems to have focused his murderous intentions on me and Peeta, the subtle threat he left before the Victory Tour, concerning Gale and my family, Peeta's too, still lurks in the back of my mind.

A hand reaches up and takes mine, tugging me toward the ground. I look down and see that Peeta has settled on the sand, a large, green leaf lying in front of him, one of his knives resting beside it. I sit beside him, but that's not what Peeta wants. With what seems like very little effort, he picks me up and sits me in his lap. My back rests comfortably against his solid chest and his strong arms wrap around me as he picks up the leaf and begins to draw twelve sections with the tip of his knife. His chin rests on my shoulder as he works, and I can't help but think that it's like Peeta has completely enveloped me, protecting me with his body. I don't know if it's a conscious action or not, but I can't deny the feeling of safety his embrace brings me.

I watch as he draws his own map of the arena. There's a circle in the center that represents the Cornucopia with each spoke projecting out from it, creating the twelve wedges of the arena. It looks like a pie. He draws two other circles, one to represent the water line and another to represent the beginning of the jungle. Next, he labels the wedges one through twelve.

"Look how the Cornucopia's positioned," Peeta says, our intimate position causing his breath to tickle my ear, but I ignore the fluttery feeling in my stomach and focus on his question. Nonetheless, Peeta's chest shakes with a chuckle, knowing exactly the effect he has on me. I elbow him in the ribs in retaliation, ignoring his exaggerated 'ow.'

"The tail points toward twelve o'clock."

I can hear the smile in Peeta's voice as he replies, "Right. So this is the top of our clock. Twelve to one is the lightning zone." He writes lightning in the appropriate wedge in small, neat letters. Then he writes blood, fog, and monkeys in their corresponding wedges.

"And then at ten is the wave," I point out and he writes wave in the ten o' clock section.

Finnick and Johanna join us. "Well, don't you two look cozy," he teases.

"Did you notice anything unusual in the others?" I ask, ignoring Finnick and looking at Johanna and Beetee. They may have seen something we haven't, but they just shake their heads. All they've seen is blood. "I guess they could hold anything."

"I'm going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers' weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we know to stay clear of those," Peeta says, making a diagonal line on the fog and wave sections. When he finishes he drops his knife in the sand and wraps both his arms around my waist. "Well, it's a lot more than we knew this morning, at least."

We all agree, but when I make the move to get to my feet, Peeta's arms tighten around my waist. "Where do you think you're going?" he asks playfully as he nuzzles my neck.

I can't help but sigh. This year in the arena is so different from our previous Games. Last year it was just Peeta and I in our cave. This year we're surrounded by others and time alone is hard to come by. I really miss our cave . . . and the sleeping bag.

"I need to see if I can find more arrows," I tell him. Despite the fact that I've managed to retrieve the majority of the ones I've shot, I like to be prepared.

"I'll go with you," Peeta offers, and I roll my eyes, turning slightly so that I can see his face.

"I'm a big girl," I remind him. "I can hunt for arrows by myself."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

The question is asked in jest, but I can't help but take it seriously. "Never," I reply, my voice soft and yet dripping with sincerity.

Peeta gives me a small smile and a quick kiss before releasing me. "Don't take too long," he teases as I walk away. "I'll get worried."

"You'll survive," I retort before beginning to search through the weapons. There's nothing much in front, mainly knives and swords that I'll never use. I make my way around the Cornucopia, searching for a glint of gold that would indicate another bow or sheath of arrows.

As I search, I can't help but think about how we're all together now. Beetee and Wiress are here with their special wire, and Johanna . . . well, I have no idea how Johanna is contributing to our escape from the arena. We're all just pieces of a puzzle. Each of us knowing different aspects of the plan so when we're put together the plan becomes one cohesive whole. Despite how frustrating it is not to know every detail, I can see the logic of separating the information. If one of us is captured—my stomach roils uncomfortably—the less we know the better. It would be better to only know part of the plan than all of it.

I glimmer of gold catches my eye, and just as I'm reaching for it the hairs on the back of my neck rise. A shift of sand. Sudden silence. I spin around just in time to see a flash of blonde hair before a hand wraps around my throat and slams me into the Cornucopia. My feet dangle off the ground, and as I gasp for breath I find myself looking into the enraged eyes of Cashmere.

My hands grasp at her arm, my fingernails biting into her skin, drawing blood, but she doesn't seem to notice. Her anger so consuming that she doesn't feel the pain. She glowers at me with such fierceness that I'm left confused. What have I done to her?

"Well, well, if it isn't Katniss Everdeen," she growls.

It might not be of much importance, considering the fact that I'm slowly passing out, but if I had the breath, I would correct her. It's Mellark.

As it is, all I manage is a choked, gurgling sound.

"Where's your partner?" she asks. "I guess it doesn't matter. Brutus and Enobaria are dealing with him and your friends."

A cannon sounds.

"See, your little lover killed who I cared about most," Cashmere says, and suddenly this entire situation makes sense. Peeta killed Gloss, Cashmere's brother. This is all about revenge. "So, I'm going to return the favor and kill you."

Black is beginning to seep into my peripheral vision, and I know I'm on the verge of blacking out. My oxygen deprived brain slowly computes that if I die, my baby dies. Some intense, overpowering primal instinct awakens within me and I begin to struggle harder than ever. Fruitlessly, I claw at her arm, leaving bright red, bleeding scratches, but Cashmere doesn't even blink. My arms fall and as they do, my hand brushes something cool and metal. My fingers grasp the handle.

A garbled sound escapes me. "What is that?" Cashmere taunts. "Look at you. You can't even speak."

And that's when I manage to say in a choked voice, "I got your knife."

Cashmere's eyes widen in realization and pain as I sink her knife into her abdomen. Her hand releases me, and I drop to the ground, gasping for air and tenderly touching my throat. Cashmere stumbles backward a few steps, staring at me in disbelief as her hands clutch the handle of the knife in her stomach. And then she drops to her knees and falls face forward into the sand.

A cannon sounds.

"Katniss!"

Peeta's voice is frantic, and I hear heavy footsteps rushing toward me. I whirl around and see two fleeing figures running along one of the spokes away from the Cornucopia. Brutus and Enobaria? But I hardly have time to think about that because strong arms wrap around my waist.

"Katniss, are you alright?" Peeta asks me panicked and checking me over from head to toe. "What—"

Suddenly, the ground beneath our feet jerks sharply, preventing Peeta from finishing his question. We're flung onto our sides in the sand due to the quick shift, but before we can gather our wits, the island of the Cornucopia begins to spin. Fast. So fast that everything around me is a blur and sand is flying in all directions. I dig my hands and feet into the sand, but the centrifugal force is frightening in its intensity and despite my efforts I feel myself slowly sliding back toward the water.

In a last ditch effort to keep myself on land, I reach out a hand to claw my way back toward the Cornucopia. But instead of grasping a fistful of sand, strong fingers grasp mine. I don't move forward, but I don't move back either. Between the spinning and the flying sand, I have to keep my eyes squeezed shut. All I can do is cling to Peeta's hand until without any warning, we slam to a sudden stop.

The resulting forward momentum causes me to fly a few feet to my right and collide into a rock. No, not a rock. Just a very well muscled torso that I know all too well. "Peeta," I wheeze before dissolving into a coughing fit. Peeta's shaking with his own cough beside me. I look around, trying to get my bearings.

I see Finnick and Johanna, who are coughing and queasy just like I am from our abrupt spin. Two dead bodies float in the water. One is Cashmere. The other remains a mystery for the moment. My coughing has subsided for now and I scrape the sand from my mouth, wincing at the soreness in my throat that I know isn't due to the sand. My fingers gently touch the tender flesh of my neck, knowing that it'll bruise, if it hasn't begun to already.

Peeta is sitting up beside me, his fingers still locked around mine in an iron grip. "Come on," he says, pulling me to my feet. Our first steps are a little wobbly, but we manage to make it to Johanna and Finnick.

Relief is plain on their faces when they see me. "Oh, good, you're alive," Finnick says with a tired smile. "We heard that second cannon and you were nowhere in sight." He glances at Peeta. "Took off without a thought, forget the spear Brutus threw at him."

"Yeah, thanks for blocking that," Peeta says absently before looking around. "Where's Beetee?"

Immediately, we're scanning the water. "There!" I say, pointing at a flailing figure in the water. Beetee's just managing to keep his head above water.

"I'll get him," Finnick announces before diving into the water.

That's when I remember the wire and how important it is. Where's Wiress? My eyes find the second body floating in the water. Oh, no. Not Wiress. "We've got to get the wire," I say. "Before the hovercraft takes her away."

I get up to dive into the water, but Peeta shakes his head. "I'll go," he says. "Stay here."

He doesn't wait for any reply, diving into the water and swimming out to Wiress's floating, lifeless body. My eyes don't leave his form as he cuts through the water. "She was the first cannon," Johanna tells me. "Brutus slit her throat. They surprised us. I threw an ax, but he ducked and threw that spear at Peeta. Of course, that's when the second cannon went off and we knew it wasn't any of us. He went charging after you."

"How'd District 2 get away from you and Finnick?" I ask. There's no accusation in my tone. Just genuine curiosity.

Johanna scowls, not at all happy with the reminder. "Scurried away like the cowards they are when the second cannon went off. Knew they were dead if they stayed. We started to chase them but the damn island started spinning."

Peeta is halfway back to us by now, the wire clutched in his hand. Finnick has pulled a water logged Beetee onto the beach and is gently patting his back as the older man coughs up water. Peeta emerges from the sea and goes straight to Beetee, laying the wire in his lap. Now that it's free from blood, the wire is a shiny gold, the thread itself as fine as a strand of hair. There must be miles of the stuff spun around the spool.

None of us speak. Everyone's faces are somber. Finnick, Johanna, and Beetee have all lost their district partners. The thought causes me to wrap my arms around Peeta and he holds me tightly to him. For the longest time no one says anything, but eventually it's Johanna who breaks the silence. "Let's get off this stinking island."

"Let's head for twelve o'clock," Finnick suggests, which should give us hours of safety, theoretically.

Everyone agrees and then Finnick, Johanna, and Peeta all go in separate directions. "Twelve o'clock, right?" Peeta says. "The tail points at twelve."

"Before they spun us," Finnick reminds him. "I was judging by the sun."

I frown. "The sun only tells you it's going on four, Finnick."

"I think Katniss's point is, knowing the time doesn't mean you necessarily know where four is on the clock. You might have a general idea of the direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ring of jungle as well," Beetee says.

My point was much more basic than that, but I simply nod my head as though Beetee's articulated spiel made perfect sense to me and I've been on the same page this entire time. "Yes, so any one of these paths could lead to twelve o'clock."

Everyone surveys the arena, circling the Cornucopia, trying to figure out where twelve o'clock is. I look for the towering tree where the lightning always strikes, but there's a similar tree in each section. There's no way to tell where anything is and after five minutes we give up. "It's no use," I say. "I need water. Anyone got a good gut feeling? I never should have mentioned the clock," I add bitterly. "Now they've taken that advantage as well."

"Only temporarily," Beetee points out logically. "At ten, we'll see the wave again and be back on track."

"Yes, they can't redesign the whole arena," Peeta says, linking his fingers in mine.

"It doesn't matter," Johanna snaps impatiently. "You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless."

Oddly enough, Johanna's response is the only one that makes me feel better. We all stand there for a moment before I randomly choose a direction and start walking, "I'm going this way."

Everyone else follows without complaint. When we reach the beach, all of us peer into the jungle, hesitant to enter its depths. Nothing threatening jumps out at us, and the only noises I hear are from the colorful birds and the wind rustling the foliage.

"Well, it must be monkey hour, and I don't see any of them in there," Peeta points out. "I'm going to try to tap a tree."

"No, it's my turn," Finnick argues.

Peeta frowns. "I'll at least watch your back."

"I'll go," I tell them. "Peeta and I can handle it."

Finnick and Johanna look like they want to protest, but I give them a look that clearly says, "I almost died, please let me have some alone time with my husband." They relent.

"Be careful," Finnick says.

Johanna scowls before plopping down onto the sand, and ordering, "Don't die."

Peeta and I don't go far, only about fifteen yards into the jungle where we spot a good tree. But Peeta doesn't immediately start carving out a hole for the spile. Instead, he leans his back against the tree and pulls me to him. I lay my head on his chest, and for a minute all I focus on is the steady beat of his heart and the security his arms provide. I feel his lips brush my hair before he gently pulls me away. Not far, but just far enough so that he can see my face. He studies me for a moment, his eyes tracing over my every feature before his gaze lowers to my neck. A frown mars his face as his fingers gently trace the bruise that is no doubt circling my flesh. His touch is so soft that it doesn't cause me any pain at all.

"I'm fine," I assure him softly, though the fact that my voice is slightly hoarse from the choking doesn't convince him. "Really."

"It's my fault," Peeta whispers, his eyes pained with guilt. "I killed Gloss, so she came after you."

Trust Peeta to ferret Cashmere's motives. Then again, emotions and people are Peeta's forte. But he's wrong on this count. "It's not your fault. Cashmere did this. Not you."

"But—"

"No," I cut him off and place my hands on either side of his face, looking him in the eyes. "It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. So quit feeling guilty."

Peeta sighs, and though he gives me a small smile, I can still see the guilt that he's trying to hide in his eyes. I don't comment though, knowing that I'll never change his mind. The subject is dropped in favor of one that will always make me smile. "I love you," he murmurs, his breath tickling my face. "Both of you."

I press my lips to his, meaning for it to be a short kiss, nothing more than a peck really, but Peeta has other plans. His hands grip my hips firmly and I'm reminded of how little I'm wearing. Furthermore, I'm reminding of how little Peeta is wearing and the thought causes my overactive hormones to flare. A fire that I'm all too familiar with ignites in my stomach, and my hands tangle in Peeta's hair. Peeta's fingers slip under my shirt, and surprisingly, the feel of his fingers caressing the smooth flesh of my stomach is what causes me to break away instead of going further. We're both breathing hard, but I reach up on my tiptoes so that my lips are right at his ear, "Tell me you weren't thinking of showing all of Panem exactly how this baby was made."

No microphone could have picked me up, so the Capitol is probably at a loss as to why Peeta is laughing. When he finally controls himself he leans down to whisper in my ear, "No. They've seen enough of you as it is," he says, looking me up and down, emphasizing how exposed I am.

I pull away from him, scowling at his possessiveness. Peeta just smirks and begins to carve a hole in the tree for the spile. Humph. Men.

While Peeta's working away at the tree, I load an arrow in my bow and stand guard. My mind drifts to thoughts of breaking out of the arena. I don't want to be in this hellhole any longer. It's time to go. I'm tired of tributes and Gamemaker weapons trying to kill me and my child. I'm tired of thinking that I might lose Peeta in one of his noble attempts to save me and the baby. Like the fog. I'm ready to break out. I'm ready to fight, however I can.

I'm imagining the look of rage on President Snow's face when we escape when I hear it—a sound that causes me to freeze and my heart to beat rapidly in my chest. A scream so full of pain and terror that it immediately causes tears to spring to my eyes. Without giving a thought to potential danger I begin running, trampling through the jungle only vaguely aware of Peeta calling after me. I have to reach her. I have to save her.

She screams again, and I force my legs to move faster. I have to reach her. My sister.

I have to save Prim.


And another chapter down!

So, in summary for this chapter: Johanna and Finnick fight District 2, District 2 flees in terror, Wiress's clock stops ticking, Beetee obviously needs a floatie (and his golden wire), Katniss and Cashmere portrayed a scene from Star Trek (wonder if any of you caught that), Peeta played in the sand, and now Prim is in trouble. Supposedly.

Stupid Gamemakers.

Quote from Come Rain or Come Shine comes from . . . Mrs. Everdeen!

"But, Katniss, you have to acknowledge the fact he might not survive. All the strength in the world can't save him, not if the Capitol decides he's of no use to them."

Lots of love,

AC