A/N: I just wanted to take a minute and say a big THANK YOU to everyone who has been reading the story, the people who have added it to their favorites and their alerts, and especially to those of you who have reviewed! Because anyone who has ever written anything on here knows how awesome it is to receive a review from your readers. It has an impressive way of making your day. And, 'cause I'm a little bit nutty, I'd like to reward you guys for putting in the effort! (And maybe bribe you a bit to continue doing so :P)

Because I have officially reached 100 REVIEWS, I want to offer you guys something in return! So, since I can't send you all delectable chocolates, I'll just write you guys a FanFiction piece! And to make sure it's something you guys will like, I've uploaded a poll to my profile. So go and vote on what you like, and I'll get it up to you as soon as I can! Another HUGE thank you to my lovely beta SubtleSpark! I really appreciate all the effort and hard work she puts into looking at my rough stuff and the diligence with which she makes it better. :)

Reviews: Thanks to Serafina Sky (who is delightfully consistent in reviewing), Book-Devourerx (whom I am happy to see is joining us), PandaKatie (cause she's awesome), Amelia (for reading my other story also), and holymfwickee (for totally making my day AND pushing this into 100 reviews).

Also: Did you guys see? I got picked for Fanfic Pick at Muttations Podcast! *Squee* Check it out at muttations(dot)wordpress(dot)com/ down at the bottom. x)

CHAPTER 12: ENTWINED IN A FIGHT

Peeta woke with a start. He couldn't say for certain the time of day—it was still dark—or how long he had been sleeping. Only that a cannon blast had woken him. At the end of the day, he would know whom that cannon was for, but for now, he just knew for sure that nine were dead.

He didn't crawl out from his hiding place immediately. It was one of those moments where he was trying to wrap his head around what to do next. Strategy and planning and the fact that he was here, in the Games, while people died around him... It was a bit much to wake up to.

Still, he couldn't hide forever.

So, he rolled out from beneath the bush he had chosen as his shelter for the night and fell into a crouch. He looked around again, but nothing seemed any different than when he had gone to sleep the night before. It was still dark, damp, and thickly forested.

He stood, stretching out muscles that were sore from his position and the tension from the day before. Time to get serious.

In all honesty, he couldn't even remember the direction he had originally come from. The Cornucopia could have been any which way now, so he picked a path arbitrarily. His main priority was still water, wasn't it? And any plants that might be edible. He had spent some time at the plant identification station—at Katniss' insistence—but wasn't sure that he could really distinguish between safe and poisonous.

He let out a small laugh. Wouldn't it just be his luck to die because he ate a stupid poison berry?

The laugh didn't last. Images of Katniss and Gale in the arena, foraging and coming across something more deadly than the rest... He shook his mind free and chose to go left.

His boots sank into the ground, slipping in mud and decaying plant matter. The air felt heavy and thick with moisture, though there was no actual water in sight. It was still muggy and hot, insects buzzing all around him. Before he had gone more than twenty paces, he was already perspiring, his hair hanging damp on his face and in his eyes.

He was using his hands to navigate, his palm moving from one tree to the next in hopes that he was getting closer to... something. Anything, at this point. Anything that wasn't darkness.

…

It had been two, maybe three hours since he had awoken when he heard it. A loud commotion to his right that sounded like someone stomping through the forest. Screams followed it—a girl's he thought. He had two options: keep going and ignore the sound, preserving his own life first, or head towards the sound to whoever was crying out and...

He didn't know 'and what.' But regardless of what came after the and, he found that he couldn't just keep going. In a moment of poor decision making, he changed his course and ran towards the scream. He burst into a small clearing just in time to watch as the girl from Five dodged two spinning discs that had razor edges. They lodged into a tree just seconds after Five had moved. The one doing the throwing was the boy from Eight—Monigan was his name, Peeta thought—and he was already moving in towards Five, pulling out what looked like a short handed ax. The boy was clumsy with it, obviously not trained with that particular weapon, and only managed a slice on Five's arm. The girl proved that, once again, she was quicker than he was and rolled away before he could attack again.

Peeta couldn't just stand and watch—Katniss was probably yelling at the TV screen as she watched him. Diving into the fray, Peeta grabbed the wrist of Monigan as he pulled back for another swing. Surprised, the boy shifted around, twisting his arm in an odd angle, and attempted to yank back his hand. Peeta held fast though and put more pressure into his grip. A combination of that pressure and Monigan's own awkward position made his hand drop the ax.

Monigan's left hand came around swinging, hitting Peeta squarely in the jaw. It was a solid blow and stung, but it wasn't the first time Peeta had taken a hit to the face, and he did little more than take a single step back. Using the hand he still had a grip on, Peeta yanked the other boy forward and put his neck in a choke hold between his elbow and shoulder.

The boy struggled, getting his other hand free and aimed several well placed punches at Peeta's stomach. It was enough to push Peeta back, making him trip over a loose root. The two boys tumbled into the mud and struggled, Monigan on top. Peeta managed an elbow to the boy's face, but Monigan just slipped his hands up around Peeta's throat and squeezed. Peeta gasped for breath and—

Suddenly, Monigan's grip loosened and released. Peeta could breathe again. The boy went limp on top of Peeta, who automatically rolled the other boy off and scooted back a little. Protruding from the base of Monigan's skull was the short-handled ax he had dropped earlier. Peeta looked up to see the girl from Five standing over the body with wild eyes and a wounded shoulder.

She glanced at Peeta for only a second before retrieving the ax and dashing off into the woods.

Peeta stared after her, telling himself not to look at the body that was not a foot from him. A cannon sounded in the distance. Ten dead.

In the end, Peeta walked away with a bloody lip and a new grasp on just what the Games were.

…

The fight in the forest had shaken Peeta more than he would like to admit. Suddenly, the death felt real. He hadn't seen the massacre at the Cornucopia, hadn't witnessed the bloody battle. But he had seen the ax sticking out of the boy from Eight, bloody trickling from the wound. Had seen the half-crazed look on the girl from Five's face. Still felt the sting on his face where a bruise was forming.

Suddenly, finding water didn't seem as important—although thirst had started burning the back of his throat a while ago—and the thought of food made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

He should have thought to have grabbed the ax before Five did. A weapon suddenly seemed a lot more practical now. But he'd been so... surprised by the entire thing. Hadn't had the time to process. And in the end, did he really think he could have done what Five had done?

Although the part of Peeta that wished desperately to remain Peeta wanted to say no, he thought of the choking hands clenched around his neck. Of losing air rapidly... Yes, Peeta decided. He would be able to use that ax when it came down to it. He was sure that, as much as he'd like to say he could be above all of this, he would in the end kill just like the rest.

They were all the same in the end.

Instead of dwelling on the darkness hiding inside of them all, he pushed himself to keep moving. Focused on the thirst he felt, because it would keep him going until it killed him.

…

Hours later and Peeta felt dehydrated despite the moisture that clung to his shirt, making it sticky and heavy. He couldn't find water. Not a stream, a brook, a waterfall, a puddle... Nothing. Not a drop. Honestly, he didn't think he could find the trees beside him and the ground beneath his feet in this darkness.

The burning at the back of his throat had taken on a desperate note. Back in Twelve, when even his merchant-class family was short on food and he felt the ache of hunger, he had never wanted for water. That, at least, was in supply.

But here it seemed that despite the lush vegetation, there were no water sources. At least, none that Peeta could find.

His foot caught against a root protruding from the ground and he slipped, skidding down an incline of mud and moss. When he came to a stop at the ground below, he didn't bother getting up. He just rested there and let exhaustion pull him under.

He could rest here for a moment...

He felt the drop touch his eyelid and thought he couldn't be sweating that much, could he? Not here, resting as he was in a pool of mud. But another drop hit his cheek and then one touched his lips. His tongue flicked out automatically and tasted water.

Water.

His eyes snapped open and that's when it finally fell down heavy. Water. Rain. It crashed down on him in sheets, so heavy that he couldn't see a few inches past his face, but he didn't care. He leaned his face up to the sky and opened his mouth, tasting the sweet, sweet moisture.

The basin he had slipped into began to fill up with water, leaving Peeta now sitting in a rapidly filling puddle of mud. He sloshed a bit while getting to his feet, and held out his hands to catch the drops, swallowing them quickly as his cupped hands filled.

If he could figure out how to collect the rain water and carry it with him, that would be a good plan, but he wasn't sure how to do it. Not until he felt his jacket getting heavier as the rain continued. He realized that it wasn't just the material getting soaked that was adding to the weight. It was the hood hanging at his neck that seemed to be heaviest at all.

Peeling out of his soaking wet jacket, he found that the hood was mostly dry, made from a slick material that allowed the water to simply slide off of it. Letting a smile cross his face, he ripped out the seams that held the hood to the jacket. He slipped the jacket back on and held out the hood. Sure enough, it started to collect water. He was so relieved he could have laughed. When it was full to the brim, he carefully pulled the drawstrings tight and tied them together. He pulled off some of the leaves from a nearby tree and used them as a makeshift lid to cover the small opening that peeked out from the scrunched up edges, then tied the whole thing to his belt.

It would leak, he was sure of that. But maybe it would be enough to keep him going when the rain stopped.

Not that it looked like it would be doing that anytime soon. He was now standing in water that was up to his knees. Getting out of this ditch was probably a good idea. Especially considering he couldn't swim and wasn't too sure he could float either.

He turned back to the wall of moss and mud that he had slid down earlier and tried to find purchase with his hands. They sank into the stuff; he found it a lot more difficult to get himself out than it had been to get himself in. Every time it seemed he had gotten a good enough hold in to dirt, he would start climbing only to slip and slide back down into the basin of water.

The rain didn't let up.

Cursing, he tried again with the same result. Wouldn't it be just fitting to drown after he had spent the last day and a half dehydrated?

He tried once more and managed to gain a few feet, but it didn't last. His fingers slipped through the mud, finding a plant root, only to unearth it and drag it down back into the water with him. It had filled to the point where he submerged completely when he fell. Frantically, he waved his arms wildly through the water, managing to find the muddy bottom with his boots and push himself back up. The water was up to his shoulders.

With a touch of panic, he realized he wasn't getting out of this.

Digging at the wall of mud with his feet below the water, and his hands above he tried and tried, but it wasn't working. He couldn't even get himself halfway out of the water anymore. It was getting higher, his chin just barely above the surface and the rain wasn't letting up. In just a few more minutes it would be above his chin, covering his mouth and then his nose and he wouldn't be able to do anything...

A spatter of mud hit his face and he looked up. A short-handled ax was lodged in the mud about a foot above his head. Tied to it was a rope or vine or something.

"Grab it!" a voice called from above.

Peeta couldn't make out the features of its owner, but he knew it was a girl and he recognized the ax. Pushing himself up just enough to reach out, he grabbed hold of the ax. The rope went taught and he felt himself starting to move upwards. Using his feet—still slipping and sliding in the mud—the leverage of ax and rope was just enough to let him climb up out of the waterhole.

He reached the edge and a hand grabbed his. With an impressive show of strength, she heaved him the rest of the way up. Peeta collapsed in a puddle of mud—shallow, thank god—next to the girl from Five.

Both breathing heavy, Peeta looked at her. "Thanks."

She gave him half a smile. "Right back at'cha."

He laughed a bit. "Allies?"

She nodded. "Name's Spencer."

"Peeta."