Illuminated in the flickering light of his dropped torch, Troop stood before Sam like a nightmare bathed in hellish orange. She froze in terror at the sight of him, heat welling up in her belly and spreading out across her limbs and chest. The spear he held glinted in the light – its lethality unquestioned, ability to kill obvious. Troop hadn't seemed so physically built back in training; now, up-close and in the soft light, he looked ready to pounce.

I am going to die, Sam thought rapidly. This boy isn't going to want an alliance. He's looking to kill.

"It's nothing personal, you know," Troop looked to the ground, as if resigned to committing this act. "A man's just got to do what he has to in order to survive. Speaking of which, I haven't been able to really find any food, so I'll need to take a little of you once we're finished here…nothing personal, as I said. Just need to stay alive."

He's going to eat me. He's going to kill me and then eat me.

"Not talkative I guess," the boy from District 6 mused, apparently unsure of how to handle the process of taking a life. "Well, this is awkward. Gonna be a new milestone for me. Guess it's time to get this over with."

Troop scooped up the spear in one hand, walking over to Sam – who had been paralyzed with fear as he'd spoke. Now the sight of him strolling up to deal her death in most inglorious fashion drove her to action. The heat of the moment had caused her to forget her small knife, but it wouldn't have come anywhere near the reach of the long weapon the boy carried. Rather, she looked around, gasping for breaths and scooping up a handful of sand. In one quick motion, Sam hurled the dirt and debris into Troop's face – a dead hit across the eyes.

"Damn!" the boy from 6 yelled, still clutching the spear but clawing at his momentarily-blinded eyes.

Although it was clear that Troop had never had much training in such a situation and hadn't prepared for this, Sam wasted no time. Every instinct in her screamed Run! Yet she did not run – her legs froze, rooted to the ground as Troop began to work his sight back again. With little time remaining before he skewered her like a roasting animal, she grabbed the cool end of the torch he'd dropped and swung the flaming brand like a battleaxe at his head.

"Stay away from me!" Sam shrieked like a banshee as the torch connected against the lanky boy's temple with an audible thwack! "Stay away!"

The top of the torch exploded on contact, its burning wood whipping straight into Troop's face with a shroud of embers and sparks. The lanky boy screamed in pain, dropping the spear and ripping at his head to put out the fiery inferno that had once been his hair – in the parched air, it had lit up like a bonfire. Sam fell completely out of control, guided on sheer adrenaline as she jammed the burning end of the torch in Troop's neck.

He tried to kill me! He was going to eat me!

Justifications could wait for later as Troop rolled about on the ground, spitting up charred flesh and inhaling his own burning skin. Using the stabbing technique she'd picked up at the sword station in training, Sam plunged the flaming light again and again into the boy's body with as much precision as her hysterical state of mind could muster – which was little. Whatever the torch had been lit with, it nonetheless spread fire like a contagious virus across Troop's body, engulfing his jacket, head, and pants in an incendiary embrace. He let out agonized screams as he struggled in vain to put out the flames, rolling about the sand to little effect. For good measure, Sam let out a yell and threw the remainder of her hot coals on his flailing body with the torch like a shovel.

"Stay away!"

Despite Sam's frantic shout, Troop was already on his way to staying very away. The tribute's movements had grown fainter with each strike of the flaming brand that had spread fiery agony down his limbs and body. As the scent of roasted human flesh and charbroiled hair wafted like a poisonous snake into the air, Troop stopped moving entirely – his only sign of life a small panting from his chest. Soon, too, that also ceased.

The cannon sounded again – ten children headed home in boxes, never again to speak to their loved ones.

Sam stumbled backwards as Troop's body began to cool, throwing aside the still-lit torch and kicking the fallen tribute's spear aside. She scrambled for breath, ripping off her jacket and throwing it to the ground. Sam grabbed her ponytail and pulled it over her shoulder, grabbing onto her hair for support as if she'd be taken away to some dark underworld. Dead! She'd killed him! How…why…but he'd tried to kill her, right? That made it okay?

Black flesh and destroyed skin stared back at her from the scene of the crime, laying accusations of murder and hate. She'd killed him, alright. Her deed. Her actions. Dead. The boy's family would look at whatever screen they watched through in pain and tears, blaming her and her alone for the death of their son. If he was their only child? A generation of dreams and hopes, wiped out by one girl's hysterical screaming attack. Dead.

With a soft whiz, one of the Gamesmaker drones invisibly shot by the canyon, slowing just enough to hit Troop's body with a snaring metal whip before sucking him up into its cargo bay and shooting away. Just like that, the Capitol had gotten rid of the body – and now Sam knew that was it. She'd killed somebody – the thought hadn't quite registered, yet its impact had already slammed home into her emotions. A week ago, she'd been just another girl in District 10, with a future on a ranch, maybe a family, husband, that sort of thing. Now if she made it out…if…she'd always see that flaming, twisting, writhing mess of Troop's body as she beat it over and over with the flaming torch. Him dying – through only a minute fraction of time, the lanky, eerie boy from District 6 had seared his image into her mind.

"It's okay, Sam."

Instinctively, Sam reached out for the spear at the sound of someone calling her name – holding the weapon at the ready as she frantically looked around like a wounded animal. At the wide brim of the cave stood a solitary figure – barely lit by the flickering torch that slowly died down.

"Don't come closer," Sam warned, curling down into a crouch and aiming the spear out like a cavalry lance. "Don't…"

"I'm not gonna hurt you," the figure walked closer, dropping a backpack to the ground and revealing his identity. Storm – how'd he find her? No, wait, that was obvious. Why was he here?

"What do you want?" Sam cautioned with the weapon, not entirely trusting after the gruesome encounter with Troop.

"Sam…are you gonna drop the spear?"

With a choking cry, Sam let the weapon clatter to the sandy floor of the cave and buried her head in her knees. Storm sat down next to her, putting an arm around her shaking body and holding on tight.

"I killed him," Sam wept, letting out the trauma of her first murder. "Killed. He's dead because of me."

Storm kicked the fire out, casting the cave in darkness. Finding them by sight would be hard with no fire and no ambient light, even with the moon out in the canyon. The cave wasn't large, although the shadow it produced more than hid their two bodies. Getting Sam to shut up enough to conceal their whereabouts, however, was another matter. Troop had been dumb enough to give away his position with the torch, but her loud struggle with him hadn't helped matters.

"Dead. It's all my fault and now I'm a killer…what have I done."

"Sam. It's okay," Storm consoled, wrapping her tighter and burying her head in his chest. If nothing else, it made the girl quiet down from loud weeping to snorting and sniffing as she cleared her nose. "I know it's hard. We're all stuck here…you did what you had to. You did the right thing."

"It's not the right thing!" Sam found herself on the verge of losing control of her raging emotions again as she pounded a small fist into Storm's thickly-built chest. "Someone's dead because of me! Someone who I watched die!"

"He woulda killed you," Storm said simply, picking up the jacket she'd tossed to the ground and pulling it over her like a blanket. "You're gonna get cold. There's nothing more you can do. Nothing anybody can do now. You're alive and still fighting."

Sam slumped against the cave wall with streaks of fluid and dirt leaving dark rivers down her cheeks. Storm could kill her right now…he'd be entirely within his rights, given that only one person would be leaving. Besides, he'd only be killing a murderer – only justified, there. Yet she didn't feel like defending herself, or warding him off…or even taking the initiative and killing him herself, as she figured she or someone else would eventually have to do. Why? She killed Troop on instinct…maybe because she'd already killed one person, killing again seemed like a monstrosity. Seeing that body in flames, knowing it would always be in the back of her mind…would she really mind dying right now? It could be better than the alternative.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam spoke softly, her lips barely moving in the chilling desert air. "Why aren't you killing me?"

"Why would I do that?" Storm asked rhetorically – was he sincere? Sam struggled with the question.

Regardless, she laid her head against the wall, wrapped the jacket around her tighter, and fell back asleep. The boy from District 12 was right about one thing – there was nothing more she could do now. All the tears shed and the action of killing Troop and the aftermath had left her tired, depressed, and confused.

Burning voices filled her dreams. The Capitol had seared the images and sounds forever into the prison of her mind - she'd never be free.