A/N: Uh... Meow? Uber thanks to my superawesometastical beta SubtleSpark! Wish her well feelings and happy thoughts and CHOCOLATE. Because she did TWO chapters for you guys! So love her lots. x)

Review Reply:
First, there have been a couple of you who just SPAMTASTIKed my account with a review on EVERY CHAPTER right when you found my story... to you, I say this: YOU ARE AWESOME! I love reviews, and it's cool to see what you think along the way. Some honorable mentions in this category: Faithless Lullaby and a reviewer that literally left no name. x)
Second, pirate-princess1 brought up a good point, so let me clarify (for everyone): Katniss was not supposed to see Peeta before his Games, but she snuck in. She was not with him on the hovercraft, but was at the launch site. As of now, we do not know how she got there and why she didn't get in trouble (I give no guarantees that we ever will).
Third, I got a review that mentioned an obvious flaw with my storyline. Prim is four years younger than Katniss, therefore, Katniss could not have volunteered for her at the age of 13. I haven't mentioned this, simply because it hasn't come up, but I'll say it here: I've altered Prim's age for the story (keep the rotten fruit throwing to a minimum please and thank you) and thusly, she is only a year younger than Katniss. In this story, she is currently 16.
Thanks to: pirate-princess1, XoLovelyWonderXo, Faithless Lullaby, tipsyapple, outofthesun, Reven Eid, and Lulunoel!
You guys are becoming too many to reply to individually on here! So, I'll send you private messages (to those who allow me to contact them) as replies and simply do a name mention here. I'll talk about anything relevant to everyone as well. I think that'll work out better in the end! :) So thanks so much, as always, for the reviews! You guys rock!

CHAPTER 11: TEN THOUSAND DEAD

Peeta took off at a run, leaving the platform behind him. There wasn't enough time to really formulate a plan, to decide which direction was best, where he was going to go, what he was going to do. He was just running on adrenaline, knowing that that cannon sounding in the distance meant run, move.

He knew the Cornucopia was a bad decision. That going there would mean certain death for him, so he steered clear of it, despite the luring promise of spoils to be won.

His back was turned from the massacre, so he heard more than saw the bloody battle that was waging at the golden horn. The cries as tribute after tribute fell, cannons sounding to mark their deaths. He couldn't keep an exact count of the number, but he estimated at least five. Maybe more.

The sounds grew fainter as he put some distance between himself and the clearing. There was rustling around him as others chose the same path as him, moving away from the clearing instead of further into it, but they were distant. No one was directly beside him that he was aware of, and he counted himself lucky.

The arena was made up of some sort of forest. Probably, the trees were similar to those outside of the fence in Twelve, but he couldn't be sure. He hadn't spent any time in them.

Although it was dark and there was no sun to warm the air, there was still warmth pressing in on him laced with moisture. Humidity. Branches grazed his face and exposed skin as he raced through the wilderness, but he ignored the minor scrapes. His goal was simply space.

He ran until his lungs burned and he thought he might collapse from the effort. When he finally stopped his mad dash, he took a moment to listen. There were sounds of the forest all around him—chirps and buzzing and creaks and rustling—but nothing that sounded human. For the moment, he was safe.

And so, he sank down onto his haunches, hand splayed on the trunk of a tree for balance as he tried desperately to catch his breath. His mind buzzed with a hazy fog that was made up mostly of worry and terror and just plain exhaustion, but he tried to think through it. Tried to remember what Katniss had told him to do.

Water.

That was supposed to be his priority. More important than even finding shelter or food. He remembered Katniss' Game, the dry thirst that plagued her the first day, and knew he would have to find some soon.

So with a deep breath that burned through his lungs, he straightened back up and took in his surroundings.

The darkness made it difficult. There was nothing but forest all around him, but he couldn't see much farther than a few feet in front of him. This was going to make things difficult.

Listen, Katniss had told him.

And that's what he did. He strained his ears and tried to filter the foreign sounds that were pressing in on him, trying to listen for a babbling brook or something.

Frustrated, he threw up his arms and let them fall back to his side. He didn't even know what he was doing! Besides standing in a dark, unfamiliar place, waiting for the world to cave in on him or for some menacing tribute to pop out of the bushes and turn to cannibalism.

Obviously, he was not as good as Katniss. He wasn't going to find anything just standing around and listening.

So he began to move again.

…

Peeta had decided that it was never going to get light. Whatever arena the Game Makers had designed, it was one where the sun didn't shine. Ever. He was stuck in perpetual darkness and some detached part of him wondered if they were using night vision cameras non-stop to keep up on things. Would the Capitol be okay with that? Probably, he decided, so long as they still killed each other.

The only positive thing Peeta could really come up with was that eight tributes had died at the Cornucopia. Their deaths would serve to sate the general population for at least the night. Not that Peeta could exactly tell the difference between night and day. But regardless of the strange eternal darkness, Peeta would eventually be able to sleep. No one would be forced into a fight now.

That would come later.

And until it did, during this brief reprieve, he needed to prepare himself. Find that water source, figure out what he was going to do for food—this was a forest right? There had to be some edible vegetation—find shelter. There were important things to be done before the tributes duked it out and before he could sleep.

He continued his trek through the wilderness.

…

He couldn't say how long he had been walking, or how many stops he had made along the way, but it had been in total darkness the entire way. Peeta knew when it was actually night only because of the seal that appeared in the dark sky overhead. The images of dead tributes hovered in the air, projections of their faces and their districts shown to inform those tributes left whom had perished at the Cornucopia.

His count had been off. Eight total were dead.

Ahmber, the girl from One appeared first. She was pretty and shiny and only fourteen. Now, she was only dead. Next was a pretty girl from Four with bright blonde hair that was more white than yellow. Her eyes were sea-green and a smile seemed to twitch at her lips despite the circumstances under which her photo was taken. She had been fifteen. A bland looking boy with sandy hair, hazel eyes, and a ruddy complexion came after Four. He had been from Five. Six lost both of its tributes. A small girl with brown pigtails and a scrawny boy with black hair and yellowish skin. The girl from Eight, a dishwater blonde, and the girl from Nine, too. A brunette with golden streaks and a nervous look to her. And finally, the girl from Eleven, Selby. She had darker skin and wild black hair. She had been fifteen.

Eight dead. All of them had to have died at the Cornucopia, because he hadn't heard a single cannon since then. Peeta wouldn't know exactly how they died, who was responsible. Not unless he somehow managed to make it out of the arena alive.

Unlikely.

Peeta rubbed at his eyes tiredly and sighed. Madge's name hadn't been in the sky, not tonight. So she had survived the Cornucopia, meaning only that, like Peeta, she had at least some common sense. Another surprise, the little girl from Seven had made it out as well.

Unfortunately, the big players had survived. The boy from One, both tributes from Two, the boy from Four... Competition was everywhere, lurking in the darkness, just waiting for the moment to make itself known...

Peeta wasn't ready for this.

So he nestled himself under the branches of a large bush and lay on his side. He needed to remind himself how to breathe and that he wasn't allowed to die until Katniss told him to.