Much love to all of you, and thanks for sticking with me! -puts up flypaper-

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Hetcher POV

Everything hurt. It still did, and if what I could see was any indication, it wouldn't stop any time soon. Too bad, because I couldn't just lie down while Diane worked at keeping me fed.

I did, though. Stubborn girl, that one. My arms were working alright, well enough to keep the latest chunk of ice she retrieved a few inches from my mouth, melting quickly in the scorching heat. I'd always hated dependency, on my dad, on Gerry when we used the forges, on Hana to do anything involving other people.

What made it worse was that I had to be dependant to survive, and my instinct kept winning out over my dislike of relying on somebody else. Diane was not going to let me up until I was healed, and I was not going to stop her.

Hopelessly, I flopped back onto the ground, nearly dropping my ice as the motion ignited twin rivers of fire up my legs. Maybe, back when I wasn't used to it, I would have screamed. Instead, I bit my fist, wishing I could see Gerry, and maybe Hana. Hating the fact that I couldn't bring myself to appreciate how much my ally was doing for me.

Why on earth did I want to be the hero? Why couldn't I let someone else pull my weight, seeing as I was injured for their sake?

"Because you're a bad person," whispered my—conscience? Maybe. Maybe it was the arena getting to me. "You don't deserve anyone. Not even dad. Even that hopeless, disgustingly unattached man is too good for you. Just die. Make it easier for all of them."

I groaned. If I could bring myself to cause any more pain than I was experiencing, I would have slapped myself.

"Shut up," I muttered, switching the decreasing chunk of ice to my other hand.

"No."

"Even the freaking voice in my head has an attitude!"

It was a testament to my subconscious' willpower that there was no reply. I was alone, again. I swallowed the accumulated water, and hurled the chunk of ice at the far wall of the cave. Just to get the camera back, I guess. Just to know that there was someone out there even more powerless than me, who required my pain for entertainment.

I didn't even crack a smile, just bit my lip. Footsteps outside brought me background, hearing someone, no matter who. If it was Diane, with food, then fine. If it was Kali, preparing to drive a knife through my skull, so much the better.

They couldn't hurt me any more. None of them. I was a burden only to myself. Diane shouldn't be helping me, and if I was gone… Maybe she would live. I really didn't know. Really. I didn't care, either.

"Hey, Hetcher? You hungry? I got some plants to go with the cheese we have left."

Why was I so relieved when it was her?

Carden POV

Something was definitely wrong. I walked for nearly a day and a half, drinking sponsor-water, and drinking sponsor-food. Nothing had happened.

Nothing at all! Either everyone else in the arena was winning some kind of popularity contest with the viewers, or I was going to be in big trouble within a few days, when the Gamemakers realized I was still alive.

I shrugged. Maybe both, or maybe the danger would come a lot sooner. I was ready for it, and my little cross-bow would give it a run for it's money. I always made stuff for Arvid when we were little by whittling down sticks and scraps of wood into toys. How different could bolts be? I had a knife, and I had wood.

Pretty soon, my little drawstring pouch was full of nice, shapely bolts. They might not have had metal tips like the real ones, but I made them really well!

One time, while I was walking, I heard a noise coming from the bushes in one of the little islands. I was really scared, at first, but then I pulled out the cross-bow and nearly got a rabbit. It was kinda fast, though. And I lost one of the metal tip bolts.

I got over it, though. And I was pretty confident, despite all the weirdness, that I could take the scary career. The cross-bow made me feel brave, like I could climb up a mountain, or cut down a whole tree.

Probably, it was kinda dangerous to be so confident. But I really was! No matter how still the air was, or how hot it was, or how freezing the night got, I could finally defend myself.

I guess it's what the rebels felt like, when they got the courage to try to overthrow the Capitol.

Stopping, I reminded myself what happened to them. With a sigh, I sat down. Everything still hurt from the tree, and the crabs, and the walking. I needed to get to the career island, though. They would have some good weapons, and maybe some more bolts for my cross-bow.

It would be really nice to have some food that wasn't all dry beef and crackers, too. But I wasn't going to get really hopeful for food, just more weapons. Maybe, if I could just get home…

I stood up, though my legs were not happy about it. They wanted to lie down some more, and maybe fall asleep. I knew I had to move, because I was really close to the island. The scary career was probably there, or nearby. She could get me while I was asleep.

The dying duckweed and freshly sprouting crabgrass beneath my feet were the only plants I could identify, seeing as the island was still too far from sight to recognize anything other than a blob in the distance. I could, however, make out the occasional flash of gold as the setting sun glimmered off the Cornucopia.

Plants continued to crunch beneath my feet, the weathered stalks not offering much resistance, and my legs got even tired-er. I really wasn't built for walking, but I kept making myself promises to get home and do more good exercise. What's the point of being strong-ish if you can't walk five miles?

I shook my head, and sighed. My eyes were definitely playing tricks on me in the waning light. The Cornucopia didn't seem any closer, and I'd been walking for nearly half an hour. I tried to pick up the pace, but all my muscles just wanted to sleep.

How long had I been awake, anyway? The sky got black awfully fast, and I realized that I wasn't walking. Was it two days since I had last slept?

The stars were really pretty and shiny. I hadn't seen many stars in the arena. Maybe I could lie down, just a little. I let my legs go limp and rolled onto my back, watching them twinkle. Everything was getting cold again, but I didn't even have time to undo my sleeping bag before I fell asleep.

Actassi POV

Very little was going on, and I was glad of it. But, honestly, who's going to bother about the triumphant(ish), blood-soaked, bedraggled District Four who can't even make it back to the twenty foot high golden object?

I was so tired. Somewhere beyond tired. Like, beyond 'exhausted' too. Every second, I was relieved when I could take another step, my pants creaking as the drying blood was disturbed. I wanted to set my brain on fire, to purge out the last twenty-four hours forever.

Even if I won, though, even if I made it home to my mom and dad and those moronic district boys and girls who could never hope to understand what I had been through, I would always be a killer. The stupid boy who was tricked into killing his own mother. A few other people, too.

But that's 'if' I make it home. A little tiny word, changing everything. If.

What if Diane, bow in hand, was watching me from the shadows? I instinctively turned my head. Nothing. Just twilight, toying with my imagination. What if Hetcher was walking behind me, synchronizing his steps with my own, preparing to gut me with his sword? Again, I slowly turned around. Only my own trail of footprints, and those I was doggedly following. What if Carden-

I was being absurd. No one was anywhere near me, at least, not close enough to do me harm. The Gamemakers had exhausted at least one torment on me, and were probably focusing on those left.

Still, I gulped. I had changed so much. Wishing pain on others, innocents, to spare myself. And I certainly was guiltier than they.

Something in me was wishing it's way out, wishing that I was dead. It would be the easiest form of escape from the arena. I would never have to face Finnick, shaking his head when I tried to take 'the hard way out', nor Tasino rolling his eyes at my latest failure.

A guy, who I read about, one time, called death some sort of sleep. But you can't wake up, and you can't take it back, and you can't apologize to all the people you'll hurt by not existing.

I realized that I was gripping my knife tighter, my hand shaking. I was preparing to go to sleep, and maybe not wake up.

Biting my lip, I blinked a few times, and stuffed the knife back into my pack. Why save someone the trouble? We're all murderers. I might as well not add myself to my body count.

Instead, spotting two smallish blobs ahead, I forged on. Neither one held the Cornucopia, but the closer of the two smelled simply divine. I could make it there, at least, before I passed out.

Maybe the bushes would lend me some cover in the night, and a bit of food, despite the lack of trees. The island beyond looked woody enough, and I could see a large, grey shape, almost cave-like in appearance. That would be my next stop.

I made my way, trudging, to the heavenly island. It was pitch black, of course, so I didn't dare to pick any berries. When I was little, a moray eel bite had taught me not to reach for things I couldn't see. Night didn't stop me from smelling them, though. I pushed my pack under my head, and said a quiet goodnight to myself. I remembered tot be at least a bit grateful for surviving another day.

The next morning, I could be at least a little refreshed, enough to make it the other island, which was still very far away. I would wait for the dawn, and maybe I actually could do it.

Already, deep in the rapidly decreasing temperature, in my bloody clothing, still aching from my wounds, I could feel the wonderful smell of the berries in the still night air. I could feel the sun rising.

-x

Wow, you look familiar! That's right, I'm updating, in less then a month.

The story may be going slowly, but that's because I'm building up courage for what I've got to do next. X.x