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THE BETRAYAL
(Day 2, Morning)

It's amazing how much noise a Career Pack can make when they're on the hunt. Whooping, shouting taunts, crashing through the bushes. Broadcasting their location for half a mile in every direction. It's not all that smart, when you think about it.

Flynn is thinking about it pretty hard at the moment.

"Get back here, pretty boy!"

"Haha, he's quick for a fake!"

"Run, cheater, run!"

This is bad, this is very, very bad. How did he not see this coming? He's /never/ heard of a Career pack turning on itself this fast! His partner's shocked expression keeps flashing across his mind's eye, her cry of surprise and the way blood spurted between her fingers as she clutched at her throat and fell - they were just eating breakfast. It was breakfast one second and the next second she was dead. He doesn't know if she really meant to warn him, or if they just never told her what they were planning, and now he never will...

Blood is dripping from his hand, but he can't stop to bandage the cut; he's pulling ahead of them for now, but he can already feel a stitch starting in his side...

There's a particularly leafy tree up ahead. As he runs toward it, the branches rustle, and then - without warning - a girl's face pops into view. Her golden braid hangs down like a rope. "Psst!" she whispers urgently, waving her hand at him. "Up here!"

What the hell?

Flynn hesitates, bewildered, but his window of opportunity is closing now. He grimaces, grabs the nearest branch, and scrambles up the trunk. Small, strong hands grab his jacket as he reaches the safety of the leaves, and haul him the last few feet. "Ow!" he hisses, slapping a branch away from his eyes. "Hey, watch it -"

"Rider! You can't keep running forever!"

He and the girl both freeze like rabbits. Listening. Waiting. Flynn presses his bleeding hand tightly against his side and prays it won't drip.

Pounding feet thunder past their tree, far below, but the branches are thick and leafy, and no one in the Pack even slows to look up.

Gradually, the racket fades away into the distance. Flynn just sprawls there for a while, struggling to breathe, until the burning in his exhausted lungs becomes a sharp, lingering ache. He's not dead. Yet. He should be, but by some miracle, he isn't.

The miracle in question has climbed slightly higher in the tree. Pulling her knapsack into her lap, she rummages in it busily. Remembering where he is, and why, Flynn scrambles into a crouch on his branch and instinctively reaches for his belt knife.

It's gone. The sheath is empty.

Frantic, Flynn thinks back. He grabbed for his knife when the Pack turned on them, and...he grimaces, remembering the blow that knocked the blade out of his hand. One of the other Career tributes has probably claimed it by now, along with his knapsack and his food and...

And everything he needs to survive. Oh, no.

He glances up; the girl is leaning comfortably against the tree trunk. Clearly she doesn't mind heights. She's taken a shriveled wild apple and a knife from her knapsack, and is quietly peeling the fruit in one long curly strip. He recognizes her now. The little pacifist from District Nine, the one with all the hair. He can't remember her name, but he remembers her face, and he definitely remembers her interview.

Noticing that he's watching her, she gives him a friendly smile. "That was close," she says. "Are you feeling all right now?"

Flynn's mouth works silently for a second in bewilderment. "Am I...? Are you?" he blurts, and gestures at the green District One trim on his jacket sleeve. "I'm a Career! Don't you know what that means, Blondie?"

She shrugs, and goes back to her apple-peeling. The knife flickers in her nimble fingers. "You're not used to being hungry?" she suggests, impishly. The peel comes free, and she leans out and hangs it over a branch. He'd call it a clever way to avoid leaving signs on the ground for a tracker, if she wasn't turning her back on him to do it. This girl can't weigh more than ninety pounds, but she isn't even keeping an eye on him.

What's her plan here? Nobody with a working brain would try to ally with a Career three times their size. Is she suicidal? Planning to kill him in his sleep? He could strike first, push her out of the tree...but without his supplies, he'll starve to death in three days. And everyone knows the farming-district tributes are good at finding food.

"Here," the girl says, and proves his point - damn! - by offering him a slice of apple. "I know they don't look like much, but they're really good."

Her shy smile lights up her whole face. Flynn has never seen such green eyes in his life, even in the augmented Capitol.

Realizing he's staring, Flynn shakes his head to clear it. "Why are you helping me?" he asks, warily. The girl gives him an odd look - puzzled, then almost sad.

"You looked like you needed help," she says, simply, and bites her lip. "I...couldn't just let you die."

Wow. She really means that, doesn't she. Flynn groans internally - all right, so she's not crazy, just...hopelessly naive? Yeah, that's exactly what he needs in an ally. But what better option does he have?

He sighs, and reaches up to accept the slice of apple. "Thanks, Blondie," he mutters.

It can't hurt to leave her alive, for now. Right?