Angelo's POV

Deep golden sunlight breaks through the shadows of the leaves as I fly through the trees. The novelty of leaping from branch to branch and feeling the wind rush against me will never wear off. Beside me, Sora is flying too, able to race from even slimmer branches than I can. It's just the beginning of the sunrise, and this is a rare thing. Everyone's sleeping in on reaping day, so there's no one to catch us or tell us to quit playing around and get back to work. No, today, Sora and I have the orchards to ourselves. Sora is smiling; her gray-green eyes alight with happiness. My closest companion looks like she feels the same way I do, that if there is such a thing as perfection in our district, this must be it.

The branches we are leaping from are laden with unnatural amounts of succulent fruit, and are unnaturally tall and grand, having been genetically altered by the Capitol's scientists to increase food production for them. But though it usually means more work for us, right now all it means is more room for us to enjoy ourselves. I'm pretty tempted to take a bit more of the fruit, but if I take any more than I've already gotten, a Peacekeeper might notice that I'm taken something, and I have enough scars from the lash of their whips slicing through my back, as does Sora. Most of the time, Sora and I are too smart for them, but they have still caught us more times than I care to admit. The both of us are marked rule-breakers, a pair to keep under close watch; I hear the Peacekeepers growl to one another.

But all of them are probably sleeping in as well, and I'm almost certain we're alone, just the way we like it. Between working in the orchards when they're crowded with other workers, laden down with our loads of fruit that make it a little more difficult to make one's way from branch to branch, and being stuck in our rooms at the community home which we share with at least three other kids, moments of solitude like this are the gems of our lives: very rare, and very precious.

As I take a particularly wide jump, I glance down at the ground, so far below me. When you first start, as a young child, this is what the other workers tell you that you should never do. It's frightening to think of losing your footing and having so far to fall to the hard earth below, but I've worked in these orchards for years, ever since I was nine. I'm used to every aspect of my work, especially the height. Rather than being apprehensive, Sora and I take pride in the fact that I can fly through these trees, at dizzying heights, with perfect skill and balance. It only takes practice, we tell the new ones when they ask how we do it so well.

As we pass a certain bunch of trees where we know the mockingjays nest, Sora's lips part and she lets out a soft, sweet little song she knows the birds love best. All the mockingjays favor Sora's voice, and it's the youngest of them that opens its beak and returns the melody. She has the most angelic voice, and I'm the one named Angelo. The morning sun beckons to the birds, which always seem happy despite the attitudes of the humans around them unless they are threatened, and with chirpy high-pitched calls to one another, they spread their wings and take to the air, filling the air with their song. The early air is heavy with the lovely aroma of dew-covered fruit and leaves, and the wind is gentle, enough to blow our hair around but not enough to affect the course of our jumps. The sunrise is beautiful, the lush reds and pinks melding with the pale yellows and brilliant gold. Add that to the fact that I'm alone with Sora, and the moment had been made in my mind officially idyllic.

Sora…Sora and my relationship is complicated. We've always been close, since before both of us ended up in District Eleven's community home. But as we've grown together, our feelings have deepened and matured as we have. It's rather confusing, though; I'm puzzled as to whether we're officially boyfriend and girlfriend yet, because both of us know how the other feels, and we show it, but we've never actually said it, out loud. Never once have either of us said 'I love you,' which to me is the one thing that what will make it official, irrevocable. Not even the kisses we've shared have prodded us to admit it to each other. It makes for a very awkward situation that both of us would like to banish from our thoughts (things are going decently, so why add change to the balance?) and yet at the same time we want to embrace it, dwell on it, take the time with each other to untangle it. At least, to us it's awkward. To everyone else, Angelo Tenshi and Sora Fielding are the perfect match for each other. I certainly can't ignore my deep affection for her, that surges up in me anew every time I look at her. Sora, so beautiful and strong; high-spirited and outspoken much of the time, but when she can let down her guard and show her real self, so gentle and sweet. A small smile creeps onto my face as a mockingjay joins her on a long jump and flits around her head when she stops on the branch, twittering away and making her laugh. What's not to love about her? And if I have these kinds of thoughts about our moments together, who knows what she thinks of me?

I grin, still immersed in our moment, and leap from branch to branch to her tree. She smirks and leaps to the next branch. I leap one closer, she leaps one further. Finally, Sora just takes off, with me in hot pursuit, and we fly through the trees as though we were born for it, as mockingjays are born to soar through the sky. And for a while the playful chase and evasion goes on, with the mockingjays soaring around us, raising their voices in a melody than bears an uncanny resemblance to laughter. Finally, I end it when I catch up to Sora and wrap my arms around her waist.

"Got you," I say, and she laughs.

"Well, now what will you do with me?" she asks.

"Show you something special," I murmur, a sudden thought striking me, and I release Sora and start climbing farther and higher. The branches are just starting to become dangerously slim, but we've reached the end of this particular orchard, and we can pull back the branches and look out onto the sky.

"Ah!" Sora lets out a gasp of amazement. I grin, knowing it's a spectacle she's never seen quite like this before. The sunrise over the endless orchards and fields of the district is an amazing sight, especially this high up and with such a clear view. The quickly lightening sky is at that point where it can't decide whether it's gold or blue or something in-between. The clouds are a mix of light magentas and yellows. And the incredible painting of the morning sky is centered on the brilliantly shining golden-red sun, which spreads light over the entire district. It's so beautiful, it's hard to believe it's ushering in the most dreaded day of the year – reaping day. For a moment, I grimace in apprehension and loathing at what this day means. But I look back at the rising sun, turning the wheat fields next to the orchards into a shimmering golden lake below us, and for just a few moments, bathing the whole district in just a little bit of beauty. Add that to Sora's expression, as she sits back against the trunk of our tree just taking it all in, with a satisfied smile on her face, as if this is all she needs, and the scene becomes just lovely. I decide to take her example, and enjoy what little time we still have alone together, before the district stirs and we have to get back to the community home before our absence is noticed. I lean back against the tree trunk, crossing my arms and relaxing my muscles. I have to squint against the strengthening light to keep looking at it, but I should probably take this opportunity. It's Sora's first time seeing the sunrise from way up here, and admittedly I've only seen it two or three times. I have to take it all in while I can, because I don't know if we'll get another opportunity.

"It's beautiful," Sora breathes. "Angelo, thank you."

"No problem," I reply.

"Did you ever show anyone else this? Jaike, Ritch, Duncan, Varun, anyone?" she asks, naming my four roommates.

I grin and shake my head. "Do you think anyone else takes this golden opportunity to get some time in before everyone's up?"

But before Sora can answer, another voice, a strident, unwelcome voice, answers instead.

"Oh, I don't know, Tenshi. Did you think we'd catch on to you?"

My head snaps in the direction of the voice, as does Sora's. Sora huffs furiously and I mentally groan in anger when I see who's found us: Head Peacekeeper Collusk, followed by his Deputy Head Bolce and two regular Peacekeepers. They're not hefting guns, although their notorious whips are wound neatly into tight coils and fastened at their hip, and they aren't nearly fully equipped as our District's force of Peacekeepers usually are at all times, but they still have their power over us. All of them leer up at us, as if Sora and I are mice caught in a corner and they are the fat, spoiled cats who know their prey is caught and revel in it.

Collusk's superior smirk disgusts me. He jerks his head downwards, saying, "Better come on down now; if you run off it's only the worse for you."

Sora and I share a grim glance, then resignedly jump down, branch by descending branch, to the ground. I hear Sora whisper angrily to me as we make our way down. "First Jag and Janera," she hisses, reminding me of the caretakers (and I use that term very loosely) at the community home, "and now them! They never leave us alone; can't we ever get a break?"

We reach the earth to stand in front of Collusk and his squad. Instantly, the Peacekeepers fan out, standing in a half-circle in front of us. Up close, I recognize the two regular ones, Peacekeepers McConroy and Dakota, a young, weasel-like man and a sharp, indifferent, middle-aged woman. Sora and I are far too familiar with this pair – when either of us gets a public whipping, it's either McConroy or Dakota who will gladly do it. So one can imagine how unpleasant our meetings are. Collusk and Bolce are an even more despicable pair. Collusk seems to exist to make the lives of our district's people miserable. He gives orders for our torment, whether we have done wrong or not, carelessly and ruthlessly, and he derives sadistic pleasure from the absolute power he holds. Bolce, his beefy, rather witless deputy, is usually the one marching around the district, baton in hand, beating up anyone he decides is the slightest bit out of line. They both enjoy abusing their power and the people they are supposed to simply keep docile and peaceful, not mistreat. It seems all Peacekeepers do. I work to keep my face impassive to mask my loathing of the lot of them, but Sora is making no such effort, her hatred of our tormentors showing plainly in her scowling face and narrowed eyes.

The Peacekeepers laugh at Sora's defiant expression. "Thought you'd escape our eyes, little bird? Little mockingjay?" Dakota mocks Sora, as her normally stony expression morphs into a smirk. "Flying around the trees is going to get you out of trouble, is it, hm? You're little mockingjays, are you?"

"How you gonna get away now, blondie?" McConroy jeers and whacks me in the shoulder with his coiled-up whip. He's not very creative; this is probably the hundredth time he's made fun of my shoulder-length blond hair, bleached nearly white by the intense summer sun. "You're not gonna, now, are you? You're stuck and soon I'm gonna get to use this!" he says with an anticipatory smirk, running a gloved thumb along the coiled surface of the whip and no doubt imagining whipping me senseless and relishing every lash.

The other Peacekeepers chuckle heartily at our expense. I hate them, but I can endure them in silence. But Sora, with her fiery spirit, has trouble keeping her emotions roped in, and she looks like she'd like to start yelling her lungs out at the four of them and land a few hard, fast punches on them for good measure. She's done it on a couple other occasions, when she was really furious with them. They certainly do deserve it, I'll admit. But all that comes out of it is a brutal whipping for Sora and a reduction of her already meager rations as well. I mentally implore her to keep her head now, even when they're taunting us, because I've seen her back slashed to ribbons by the Peacekeepers' whips more times than I care to, and it takes a serious toll on me as well, every time I see her getting hurt. I just hope she can keep her temper under control now, because she can hardly bear the pain of the punishments they will coldly and dispassionately dole out, and I can hardly bear to watch it happen. She seems to be making an effort, but I can't tell how long she'll keep it up.

The Peacekeepers' laughter subsides, and they become cold and businesslike the way they usually are. Collusk fixes us with a hard glare, and Bolce withdraws his heavy baton from his jacket. "So what were the two of you doing out here in the early hours of the morning? Stealing food again? Looking for a way to slack off from your work? What was it?" he demands sharply.

To his surprise and utmost irritation, I smile, knowing that the true answer will enrage him when he can't find a legitimate excuse to punish us. "Actually, sir," I say in an overly polite tone. "All of those thoughts are wrong. Sora and I have no intention of breaking any laws today. If you recall, we both live in the community home with many other children most of the time we're not working, and when we are working, it's in a crowded orchard. So you'll understand that we were simply trying to get some solitude in somewhere. No laws were broken, so if you would just go back to your duties and leave us alone, we'd greatly appreciate it."

Satisfaction washes over me when the Peacekeepers don't know how to react at first. For all their ego and bravado, none of them were accepted into the force for their first-rate intelligence and ability to solve problems, that's for sure. Judging from the attitudes of much of our Peacekeeper force, apathy and brutality are what gets you a place among them. Bolce is the first to speak, but, dimwitted as he is, his words don't sound quite as commanding as he'd probably like them to.

"Well, I know you two and anyone with half a brain can find something wrong with anything you do – "

"That's your problem, Bolce," Dakota snaps. "You don't have any brain; why don't you let us handle this and you can beat them up after we're done talking."

Bolce looks like he'd like to start hitting Dakota instead for insulting him, but Collusk shoves him aside, snapping at him to keep back until he's needed, and moves to the front of the group, stomping up to me and Sora until his snarling face is inches from my own impassive, glaring one.

"Listen, you," he hisses. "Every time I find you two lurking around together, there's always something illegal going on. Whether it's poaching food or wandering away from the worksite, there's always something I can get you two for. And now is no exception. So admit it now, and we might go easy on you…dirt," he adds as an afterthought.

Sora is really angry now. "Collusk, are you deaf?" she snaps. "Didn't you hear Angelo? We haven't stolen food, and it's reaping day so for once there's no work to slack off from. We aren't breaking curfew, because sunrise is when everybody comes out to work and we're entitled to go out into the district. So go on now, leave us alone, you've done your jobs."

Collusk turns slowly to her and his cold brown eyes narrow. "No, I don't think so, Fielding. We haven't done our jobs just yet," he says softly, dangerously. I've heard that tone of voice before, and I see Sora brace herself for what she knows will come in the next instant. I throw my arm out to protect her, but striking her was not Collusk's intention. He pulls his heavy wooden baton, reinforced with metal, out of his jacket and smashes it full force into my cheek, knocking me off balance. Dazed, I stumble to the ground, but recover quickly when I hear Sora shriek in anger and see her lunge at Collusk, fists clenched and ready for battle. But the second her fist makes contact with Collusk, the lash of Dakota's uncoiled whip slices her forearm and McConroy's baton slams into her side, knocking the wind out of her. I rush in to help, and unavoidably to fight for myself, but Collusk and Bolce are both on me at once. I kick and punch at him, which works for a bit because I'm faster and more agile than either of them, but they're bigger and stronger and have me down in moments, Bolce's beefy form pinning my slight body to the dew-damp earth, with his knees digging painfully into my ribs. I struggle with all I have, but I can't escape his hold; they know how to keep a victim down while they do what they do best. Bolce is swinging his baton wildly and brutally into my body, while Collusk has abandoned his baton and is off to the side, letting Bolce do the dirty work while he lashes as me occasionally with his whip. His well-practiced hand and eyes administer the lashes at the exact moment when he knows it will hurt most.

I hang on to my consciousness and struggle against the blows raining onto me for as long as I can, but I'm losing it fast. The continued hits from the baton into my head are too much, and the whiplash is making the torment so much worse.

The last things I see before I pass out from the blows to my head are Sora, on the ground too, screaming and fighting like a wild animal, trying to get up to either run or fight but held down like me by McConroy, who's not beating her like Bolce is doing to me, but holding the struggling girl in place while Dakota mercilessly whips her, a sight that repulses and enrages me; and a strange, small dark streak – that looks vaguely human, I think I make out wide brown eyes staring back at me - dashing through the berry bushes that accompany the orchards…

~0~

When I come to, the first thing I notice is that the sun is higher in the sky than when I was beaten unconscious, and the sky is pure blue and the clouds are fluffy white. I open my eyes, and even that tiny action brings a bit of pain. I groan in annoyance. Bolce probably jabbed his baton into the left eye a couple times. I sit up, and my body aches in protest, but it's bearable. Then I remember my companion.

"Sora?" I say, looking around for her. "Sora? Where are you?"

I carefully get to my feet, not knowing what may have been damaged while I was unconscious. I search the orchard for her, panic starting to rise in me when she doesn't answer my calls and I can't find her, and I'm afraid of what the Peacekeepers may have done to her. But my fears are calmed when I finally spot her lying at the foot of one of the smaller fruit trees, still unconscious, looking like the Peacekeepers carelessly threw her there and left her, probably to separate and worry us.

I sprint over to her and kneel next to her. She doesn't look much worse off than I am. She's wounded, but breathing normally. A good amount of whip cuts on her arms and legs, and some bruises as well; McConroy probably kicked her around a bit. It will hurt as much as my wounds do when she wakes up, but we're accustomed to getting beaten up. It happens with the Peacekeepers about as often as it happens in the community home. We'll recover, as we always do.

I shake her shoulder gently, not wanting to hurt her. "Sora?" I say. "Sora, come on. Wake up now. Wake up."

After a few moments, her eyes open a tiny bit. When she comes to, she realizes something is touching her shoulder – my hand – and, probably because the last thing she remembers is being tormented by Peacekeepers, she lets out a shriek and jumps back a few feet, clearly ready to fight again. When she tries to, I quickly step over to her and take hold of her wrists so she won't punch me. She struggles, trying to escape my grip.

"Sora!" I say loudly, not letting her go. "Sora, relax, it's me!"

She struggles for a moment more, before coming to her senses and becoming still. "A-Angelo?" she says, sounding disoriented.

I let her wrists go, and speak softly. "It's me, Sora. It's all right. They left us here, they're gone."

Both of us are still and silent for a moment, the only sound in the air is our deep breathing.

"Sorry, Angelo," Sora finally says. "I didn't think, I just remembered Dakota and McConroy attacking me and I just panicked."

"It's okay. I understand."

"It's just…" She hesitates, looking away. I wait silently for her answer. After a minute she looks back up at me. "It's just that they were hurting you, and I wanted to help, but I couldn't. McConroy…" She pauses again, her face contorting with hatred. "He's disgusting. He kept trying to…run his hands over me while he was pinning me down. And I swear I saw his tongue flick out a couple of times."

Hearing her talk about what McConroy was doing to her sends burning rage blazing through me. No one should ever be able to do that to her. I should have been able to do something. It isn't the first time he's done it either; not just to Sora, but to plenty of the other District 11 girls he polices. And he's done worse to them. "That's what he was sent to become a Peacekeeper for, right?" I say carefully.

"Yeah," Sora replies, her eyes narrowed. "He was a pervert in the Capitol, and so they got rid of him by sending him to do the same thing over here." She makes an aggravated noise and runs a hand through her hair. "Only here he won't get punished for it. What I wouldn't give to put a rock in his skull…"

"If you'd like, I could give him a good punch to the face for you the next time he tries beating us up," I offer. It would be incredibly satisfying to do that under the pretense of self-defense.

Sora smiles at me. "Thanks, but I took care of that already," she says. "I got very lucky; I was able to get out of his hold for a moment."

"Let me guess," I say, a smile spreading over my own face. "You took advantage of every second of it."

"Well, well, the boy knows me. Of course I did," she says, clearly proud of it. "They pulled me right back down again afterwards though, and it was around then that they knocked me out, but let's just say McConroy will probably not be fathering any children in his lifetime now that I got my own kicks in."

I laugh, knowing Sora can take care of herself pretty well, unlike a lot of the other children of the district, who are too scared of the Peacekeepers to do anything other than meekly go through school and work and a quiet night at home. I have to say, she's an excellent influence on the other girls in the community home, especially the younger ones. Others' opinions would differ greatly, but I think it's wonderful. Maybe no monumental change will come of it, and maybe it won't get us less work or more food, but if Sora and I can ensure that at least some of the kids will grow up wary and careful, but unafraid and strong, nothing we have done will be useless, as everyone tells us it is.

"So when did all that happen?" I ask.

Sora's smile drops from her face. "It was just after you got knocked out," she begins quietly. "I'm sorry, Angelo…I had gotten out, and they were beating you even after they knocked you out…I should have helped you…"

I frown, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Sora, you only got up for a moment, and they pushed you right back down after you kicked McConroy. You didn't have time to do anything else. Don't worry."

"But they were hurting you, my closest friend, and I couldn't do anything about it," Sora says, her voice taking on a tone of sorrow and self-loathing that I recognize all too well. I wrap my arm completely around her shoulders and pull her closer to me. "I couldn't help you. Whenever they attack us in groups…they always overpower us. They hurt us, they hurt both of us, and they hurt all of us. People always tell us we're so great and strong, but really there's nothing we can do. Not for each other or for any of us."

"Now stop that kind of talk, Sora," I tell her firmly. "I know why you keep thinking these things, but it's not worth it to think of what we can't do." I hesitate before saying what else is in my head. "Your parents wouldn't have wanted that."

Sora glances up at me and then looks away. We two have an even stronger hatred of Peacekeepers than most in the district, because when I was ten my father died of his injuries on the whipping post for a crime he hadn't committed, and when Sora was eleven she saw both her parents murdered by one of them.

Sora's mother had been accused of stealing food (rightly, believe it or not), but the Peacekeeper that caught her had decided to deal a far more severe punishment than was necessary, and had beaten her near to death. Her father, coming back home with Sora from getting their rations, had seen what was going on and knew the Peacekeeper had gone too far. He hastily passed the rations to Sora and put her in a nearby alley, away from the Peacekeeper's unforgiving eyes, and raced over to protect his wife, yelling at the Peacekeeper to stop, that it was enough. The irate Peacekeeper didn't want him interfering with the punishment, and he pulled out his gun and shot her father, the bullet piercing through his chest; then when her mother screamed he shot her in the head, killing both of Sora's parents in a matter of seconds, right before her horrified eyes.

My own parents' deaths were slower, undoubtedly much more painful. I never knew my mother; she died giving birth to me. My father said it was because she was far too thin and emaciated to bear childbirth, and the doctor said she never had a chance. He told me it was never because of me, always coupled with a reassuring smile, or a hand on my shoulder, or a ruffle of my hair, which he mentioned once I'd inherited from my mother. He'd tell me it was never my fault she died, and he felt lucky to still have his son. And I believed him, but I never could get rid of the lingering bit of guilt that said that if it weren't for me, she'd still be alive. Nevertheless, the loss of his wife and the burden of being left to raise a child didn't discourage my father. We'd come home every day from our work in the wheat fields, and while we sipped long-awaited glasses of water – something given very sparingly at work – he'd look out the window and always tell me not to look to the future as a place of darkness, because he had faith that one day, things would change. I never replied when he said that, because I couldn't see how anything could be drastically different. Even today, I still can't see how that could happen.

But for some reason, I never loved him more than on those evenings together, and his optimism for the future was freely shown, away from skeptical looks and the sharp ears of the Peacekeepers who could get the wrong idea and think that my father would make this change come about himself and incite rebellion. He would never have endangered people like that however, gentle man that he was, and surprisingly enough, that's not what he was convicted of. One night, when a young man was being chased by Peacekeepers for stealing a jug of water and killing one of the Peacekeeper's prized attack dogs, he came across my father coming home late from work at the harvest, when most of us, including me, had been sent home already. The man must have been either heartless or desperate. To avoid capture and punishment by the Peacekeepers, he attacked my father, knocking him out, and then threw the water jug on him and smeared the dog's blood from his own arm on his shirt before escaping with his own sorry life. The Peacekeepers hadn't seen the real criminal's face, and hadn't gotten a very good idea of what he looked like. So when my father was found with the evidence surrounding him, he was arrested and convicted of the crime. His claims of innocence were largely disregarded, though the Peacekeepers did come to the conclusion that the dog's death was an accident, and his sentence was a seventy-five-lash public whipping.

He assured me that he'd come out of it okay. Beaten and bleeding and wounded, but gradually healing and alive at least. No one is very smart when they're ten years old, but even so I should have known better than to hope that he'd survive, much less believe it. My father was an older man to begin with, and younger, stronger people have difficulty making it through far less lashes than he was issued. Add that to the fact that he had been beaten severely while imprisoned to get a confession out of him – there was no doubt of that, I could see it in his face and movements the last few times they let me see him – and I should have known not to believe he'd have a chance. I watched them drag him up onto the platform and bind his wrists so tightly to the whipping post I saw them digging into his skin, a frightened child hoping will all his heart that the one person who cared about him most would somehow be okay. But it was a hopeless situation. From the first few lashes, it was clear my father couldn't take the pain that was to come. The agony and strain were too much for him. He held out as long as he could, but he passed out at around thirty lashes. The Peacekeeper didn't care, he had been sentenced to seventy-five lashes and he would deliver just that amount, and if anything he whipped the body hanging from the post with more violently than before. My father didn't even last that long. It was around fifty lashes when everyone started to notice something was wrong. And it was at around sixty lashes when someone from the crowd screamed out, "He's not breathing!" and we knew he was already gone. Those damn Peacekeepers…They knew what they were doing. They knew my father wouldn't be able to take so much punishment and live. It was given out that the death was purely an accident, but it swayed nobody. Everyone knew the truth for themselves – My father had been murdered by them the same way Sora's parents had, caring nothing for the children they left orphaned and just sending them off to the community home without a second thought about the whole matter.

Sora and I both know what it is to be forced back when those we love are in danger, and to be helpless to protect them when they need it most. Sora could do nothing to save her parents and I could do nothing to save mine, either. I know what Sora is talking about, when she thinks she should have been able to help me when the Peacekeepers were beating me up. It's because neither of us ever want to lose somebody else we love and just be standing helplessly by. That's the one thing both of us hate like nothing else – being helpless. The memories of our parents' deaths are tainted by the feeling, and we can't take it again. We do all we can for those we care for now, but even with all of our hearts in it, it will still never be enough. I will never be enough. And that's the one thing that always comes back to haunt my thoughts and pervade my nightmares one way or another. Sora is undoubtedly the same. Even through all her fiery spirit, noise, and bravado, her fears mirror my own. Neither of us can lose another person we love and be helpless to stop it, but there's no way to protect all of them completely. One day, our worst nightmares may come true.

And this is reaping day. For all we know, today could be that day.

I grasp Sora's shoulders tighter when I realize I'm shaking. The fear is threatening to take me over again. Sora looks at me with concern and understanding in her eyes. I hastily try to regain control of myself. I pull us both to our feet and bite down hard on my lip, fighting to compose myself. Sora reaches out to run her hand gently over my cheek.

"Well, we've done fine so far, haven't we?" she says softly, to reassure herself as much as me. "The kids are none the worse for wear, and the Peacekeepers haven't killed in a few months; that must be a new record."

"I suppose so," I say. But that can only last for so long, I think. I'm calmer now, but the dread of reaping day has reestablished itself in my mind. "Let's go back to the community home," I suggest. I feel inside the secret pockets and folds of my clothes where I tuck away fruit and other purloined food, and am relieved to find that they have not been discovered by the Peacekeepers. Sora does the same and smiles. "We have some food to take home to our friends, at least," I say.

"The silver lining," Sora replies, quoting from a very old saying her mother used to tell her.

"And it's probably best if we get back fast," I say, remembering what else awaits us there. "Jag and Janera are going to be angry enough that we snuck out without them noticing. They'll be livid if we don't get there in time for the reaping."

"And the dark gray clouds," Sora says, sticking out her lower lip in a mock-pout. "Well, I'm not in the mood to get backhanded across the face any more, so let's go before we give Jag an excuse to."

"As if he needs an excuse," I mutter as we make our way out of the orchards. We start off at a light jog, having no desire to set our wounds bleeding again. But slow speeds never have been to Sora's liking. Her smile broadening, she gradually quickens our pace as we leave behind the fruit-laden trees and move onto the dusty, earthen roads, until we're all but running. Our wounds seem to be taking the exertion well, though my body still aches rather badly and I'm sure Sora's does too, but we have handled worse than soreness. By the time we've reached the main road, we're sprinting, racing, sending up small clouds of dirt and dust. Again we are caught up in the moment, the time we have with each other. Never mind what's happened before, I think, glancing at Sora's bright eyes and smile. Never mind what's waiting for us. We're together now, aren't we? There are so many terrible things in our district, why not enjoy one of the few good things while we can?

And as I run with Sora, everything else rushes from my mind. There is only her, me, this nearly deserted road, and the wind blowing hard in our faces, sending our hair flying back. Right now, just in this one moment, I can forget it all. The terrible conditions of our home district are forgotten. Our encounter with the Peacekeepers is forgotten. Even the Hunger Games are forgotten.

I think I'd better enjoy it now. Who knows how long it will last until something shatters the happiness we can share?

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So far, nobody's figured out the mystery of Tobin's name…Then again, no one reviewed for the last chapter at all. Come on, people, I need feedback! Please review!

Musical themes –

The beginning theme, with Angelo and Sora in the orchards, is Homeland by Hans Zimmer, from Spirit – Stallion of the Cimarron.

The theme of the Peacekeepers' attack is the Middle Boss Battle theme from Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, by Koji Kondo.

The theme of Angelo and Sora's pasts is the Hunger Games Main Theme, another original song by the brilliant YouTube user RaeofRandomness. I said it once in a comment and I'll say it again here: I defy Danny Elfman to compose something that can hold a candle to her music. That is what should be in the movie. For anyone who hasn't heard it yet, go on and give it a listen. It's definitely worth it.

When Sora and Angelo run back home, the theme is a reprise of Homeland.

Name meanings –

Angelo means 'heavenly messenger' and his last name, Tenshi, means 'angel' in Japanese.

Sora means 'sky' in Japanese, and I also chose it because it sounds like 'soar.' Her last name, Fielding, refers to her district's industry - agriculture.

All the other names in this chapter – excluding Angelo's roommates, whose names will be explained in the next chapter's A/N, after they're introduced – are made up, and have no particular meaning.

Reviewers get cookies and a sooner update!

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