The Present. 74th Hunger Games: Day 11

I had my slingshot, a few stones in my pack–they'd not even slow Thresh down. I could just stare him in the eye, for the second when all of us were still. Peeta, stretched out white-faced in the darkness. Thresh, crouched inside the cave mouth. Me, stood between them.

I saw Thresh glance away, just an instant. I took a big breath.

"NO! Peeta, you said you'd protect me, that means you stay alive! Katniss, she'd never let you give up that easy! Thresh! You said you didn't want to play! Well, killing a sick boy sure looks like playing the Hunger Games to me! Whatever he did, he's sorry. You kill him, you be sorry too!" I couldn't stop my voice cracking, tears bursting out my eyes, but I kept them on Thresh, "I couldn't live if Peeta was dead, and you killed him! Thresh! Please."

"Why? He half-dead, sparing him won't do no good!"

"Helping me didn't do Katniss Everdeen no good. She must've known only one of us could survive, and I'd likely be more trouble than anything. But she still healed my wounds, shared her food–she slept next to me, like you did, Thresh. And she got herself killed to save me. So I went to find her sweetheart, and help him, whatever I had to do. I'm not letting you kill Peeta now."

"Don't wanna kill him, Rue." Thresh lowered his head, shaking it slowly, "But could kill us if I don't!"

"I know! That's the price of caring for folk, the way Jesus cared for us and gave His life. I know it ain't easy, Thresh. But I know He made you a strong man. He'll give you strength."

Thresh's head came up. He stared at me so hard I came near to falling, but I kept gazing my heart at him, through flooding tears. Then he shook his head, put the knife in his belt. His words came out with force like a tiny stream wearing its path through stone.

"Times like these, seems too tough to trust anybody. Seems I can't even trust myself–but no matter what, we can still trust God. We gotta. Took a little girl to tell me, again. I'm sorry, Rue. I ain't gonna make you cry no more."

"Thresh–" I was so glad, I hopped lightly in, and kissed his lips, "Thank you! Um, um..."

"Ain't nothing. Hey Rue, where your Tribute Token? Your grass necklace?"

"That's a surprise." I grinned. He shook his head.

"Now I know why Katniss saved you." Peeta sat up behind me, "You're the purest soul in this arena, the most innocent of us all. Sorry for what I said. Thresh...?" Peeta raised a shaky hand. I pushed Thresh into taking it, before scuttling off to check on the nettle soup, exhausted and pretty embarrassed.

Inside ten minutes Peeta had got Thresh to talk about his family–he even laughed, once. But Peeta did have a real talent for making friends. I'd had one once, when I'd had normal friends. But I couldn't dream of where the fine speechifying I'd given Thresh had come from. It was like something had gone hard and desperate in me since Katniss had died, like a sword rising up from a swamp.

But I didn't feel strong now, just worried for Peeta. Thresh was my Partner, and really a good boy, but I might always be scared of him. Peeta still had an angel's smile now, and all his kind words warmed me up, like a fire inside. He was even trying to hide his leg, but I knew without medicine he might not last the night.

Staring out of the cave as it start to raining, I thought about Billy Joe Ewell, nearly for the first time in the Games. Maybe he was watching me, with Jess, Ginny and all my sibs and friends. Holly and Jim would've been cheering at all my escapes. I knew Pet would've forced herself to watch, however scary it got. When I went back–no, I still couldn't imagine that. Would I climb trees again with joy, instead of fear? Would I sing out the quitting-time tune like before, and be among everyone who loved me, when I'd watched folk die. Even killed them myself?

My folks would've definitely been watching all I'd done. Watched me staying alive, as Katniss died. Killing the boy from One. Ignoring every warning Mama gave me.

–0–

The Present. 74th Hunger Games: day 12

After a bit, I thought how silly I was to mope–two wonderful boys had promised to protect me. Another Sponsor package dropped outside the cave with some bread and meat, so I made a few sandwiches while the boys talked.

"What kind of work did you do at home, Thresh?"

"Last three years, I harvest more grain and rice for the Capitol than anyone in my hometown. They gave me medals." Thresh's face was unmoving, only his words were a little bitter.

"You really care for your family, right?"

"Yeah, I was working for them." Not the Capitol, none of us need to say aloud, "Or that's what I told myself."

"Huh?"

"Truth is, my folks slaved till they were too sick to work, and never stopped working. Saw them waste away myself. Guess I figured after that, I was my own man, and I had to get strong as I could, so that I'd never get that weak. So maybe all the works I ever did were just for myself. Like hiding away in the cornfield, on my own. Couldn't do any good on my own." Thresh fell silent after more words than I'd ever heard him say; it was clear they meant a lot to him.

"Kinda know what you mean." Peeta looked even paler than an hour ago, "I thought doing everything for Katniss was the best thing I could do for myself. And I believe that if I'd only fought for me, I would be suffering even more, now."

"Too right, it don't work. Only works if we do it all for God."

A twist of sadness finally crossed Thresh's face. I had to hug him, and say it was better to get it late than never. We held hands, Peeta too, and had a little prayer God would keep us safe tomorrow, before we bunked down.

The rain poured through the whole night. It was colder than the horribly cold nights at the start of the Games, but Thresh gave me the silvery blanket he'd got from a Sponsor, so I was okay. Peeta and me could still never have slept if we weren't so beat. Thresh stayed awake and took both our watches. But I was half-dozing in the small hours when a thin shadow slid from the dark outside, like water into a pit. She edged for the heap of packs between us, until Thresh leapt up like a cat and seized her arm.

"Thresh!" I cried out. Peeta moaned in his sleep.

"Just listen, one moment! I don't even have a weapon–" As the girl reached for her pocket, Thresh knocked her away, and searched it himself. The Tribute's hood got thrown back in the scuffle, disgorging the red bunches and pale skin of the girl from Five, Foxface.

"What this?"

"I believe those things are yours?"

From her pocket, Thresh had pulled a bit of metal with '5' carved on it. A bronze coin on a string, with '12' scratched in it. And my own grass and wooden necklace that I'd scratched with '11'. Before I'd put all those things in with the bundle of food, that I'd left behind in the forest yesterday. I'd known the girl from Five was tailing me.

Foxface stared at me, with her narrow and wild eyes. She was soaked, starving, and desperate, but seizing onto hope with both paws and teeth.

"Yeah." I glanced at Thresh, "Peeta gave me his token yesterday, I left his and my tokens with some food, for a message to her she could come to us. She doesn't have food, Thresh. Same as Peeta, I don't want her killed, I want to do everything for her I can."

"Hold it–!"

"Do you have a plan to eliminate the surviving Careers?" Foxface cut in, "I believe I have four. All three of us would need to risk our lives, though."

"Three? No!"

"It's okay, Thresh. Without a plan, all of us die. They win."

Thresh stared at my eyes, big in the darkness, and sighed wearily. My Pa had shown the same face when he found the fox cub my sister Holly had raised in the outhouse. Whether he knew how things would end up, or he just couldn't stand to kill a girl, he was going to let her be.

"Come here," I held out my hands to Foxface, smiling, "Take a little food, try and rest. We'll talk about the plan in the morning."

Her fox-face was wary, as she clasped my hands a second. Then she gnawed up half a grousling leg in a few seconds, then she curled up under a blanket on the cave floor. I told Thresh he should get some sleep, but he wouldn't. He stayed sitting up, nearest the cave mouth. I saw his eyes were hard, and never moved off of Foxface's sleeping body. I'd only wanted to find and help her; I was surprised as anyone by her talk of plans. But I should've guessed no Tribute would live so long without being very strong, or very cunning.

–0–

Just after daybreak I was gathering berries in the forest, singing the John Henry song real quiet. Then my third Sponsor package drifted down on its silver parachute. I pounced on it, and ended up with a little tub of smelly black syrup. Sleeping syrup. I wondered if it was for easing Peeta in his pain, and if his sponsors could possibly send medicine. Then I suddenly thought about what the Sponsors were really thinking.

"Oh, we wept buckets when Katniss died (All the Girl on Fire fans would be saying), but we were so glad when her plucky little ally swore to carry on her fight. Only, how can a tiny girl, who seems to help folk more than kill them, possibly win the Games and get us our money back?"

"Obviously, by brains (the smarter Capitol folk would tell them). She's allied with Peeta and Thresh for protection, until they kill the careers. And she's already playing on that simple fieldhand Thresh, with her sweet talk and innocent face. Playing on his pity, pride and funny religious notions, so that he'll kill himself to save her life.

"Peeta dies from his leg or kills himself likewise (They'd go on). Foxface starves to death. And the innocent little Mockingjay girl with a viper's heart will live to enjoy her new riches, the first twelve year old victor in history."

"You sure got that right, good masters (Seeder and Chaff would pipe up, ready to say anything that would save me). And, just in case Thresh thinks twice about offing himself, or if our girl even ain't rightly conscious of what she's doing, might you be good enough to send her some sleeping syrup? Then she could just send Thresh or Foxface to sleep, and slit their throats easy as that?"

The lie had brought the parachutes–helped keep me and the boys I loved alive. And it was barely a lie. When I'd gone to Thresh in the cornfield, I'd been ready to give my life to help him win. But then Peeta had told me to win for Katniss–and Katniss had told me to win. That precious will to die was dying, like a broken bird. I wanted to live. Thresh and Peeta would so happily end their own lives, rather than mine–I could tell from all they said, from the look in their eyes. My boys, so brave and good–I could win, if I just let them die, oh, I was filth to let such thoughts possess me!

Like I'd let Katniss die. I'd knew I'd killed the boy from One, killed the son of his parents'. But I couldn't stop feeling it was Katniss I'd killed, only I could hardly bear to feel it, not if I wanted to keep on moving. But I wouldn't have to hold that pain off much longer. I wasn't going to be tricking my friends, only my Sponsors.

Quickly, I hunted through the bushes near the river for a particular berry. The audience would probably think I meant to poison Foxface, Peeta and Thresh together. Even though Thresh would surely recognize Nightlock in anything. All the Capitol folk must've been chuckling how a simple knowledge of plants could be deadly as anything their fancy science could make.

Truth was, it was for me. I would help Thresh and Foxface defeat the Careers, the killers whose friend had murdered Katniss. It would best if I could die like Katniss did, to save my friends, so much better, but if that didn't happen, I'd swallow that Nightlock before anybody could do anything. If suicide was sin for me, it would be sin for Thresh. My parents might not even want me back, after all I'd done–in any case, they'd have one less mouth to feed. My sibs would survive. Thresh, or Peeta, would survive. And I'd be free of the Games that had killed my friend, and any innocence at all left in my heart.