Day 18- The Games (Day 11)

We wake up the next morning, at least I assume that it's morning, its pretty hard to tell in this burrow but I've always been a pretty regular sleeper, to find a parachute outside.

"Wow," I say, eyebrows arching.

Fern is still behind me in the tunnel and can't see, so naturally her reply is, "What?"

"We've got a sponsor gift," I say, still unable to keep the surprise and a slight edge of confusion from my voice.

"Cool!" says Fern, emerging behind me as I give her more room, sounding much more enthusiastic. "Well," she says, "let's open it then."

"I suppose we'd better," I say, before doing so. It's food, and a good amount of it too. Probably enough to last us through to the end of the Games, unless something really extends it.

"Awesome," says Fern, giving me a high-five. "Why aren't you more pleased?" she asks after a moment.

"I am," I insist, "I'm just trying to work out what we've done to make anyone want to help us out."

She shrugs, "Who cares?"

I can't help but laugh a little at this. "I guess," I say. "I suppose we might as well have something to eat then."

Fern agrees and we have a good breakfast of bread and crackers and a little fruit and cheese, before heading off on our daily wanderings, taking a little of the food with us but leaving most in the burrow as we have quite a lot- it would weigh whoever's carrying the pack down, and I'd like to be able to chuck the pack if I needed to make a quick getaway from danger. We mark some trees with our knives in an effort to help us find the burrow again, while trying not to make it so obvious that anyone could find us. Soon enough we reach the river and, after drinking up, try and find a landmark. Nothing really stands out, but I have an idea.

"Let's tie some of the cloth to that tree," I say, pointing. "We can just follow the river until we see it and then follow our knife marks back to the burrow."

"Sounds good," says Fern, "we'll have to be careful of an ambush though, in case anyone else sees it and guesses that it's some sort of marker."

I nod my agreement. "You're right, but I can't think of an alternative and I really don't want to lose the burrow and the food. We'll just have to be careful like you say."

After we've done that we wander along the path of the river, though keeping to the thicker trees just away from the banks. We're constantly alert for danger, I keep my staff at the ready and Fern keeps an unsheathed knife in her hand.

After walking in silence for a while, Fern speaks up.

"They'll be interviewing our families now we're in the final eight."

I nod, but don't say anything in response. I really don't want to think about mom and dad and Kay, because after last night's conversation I've realised that when I do all I can think about now is not seeing them again, and that upsets me much more than any thoughts about being injured or killed.

Fern seems to sense my upset however, as she stops walking and puts her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," she says, a concerned look on her faces.

"It not your fault," I say, resisting the temptation to add that it's the Capitol's, "I just miss them. And if I concentrate on other stuff I can focus on surviving better."

She just nods sadly, and pulls me into a hug which I think is supposed to be reassuring, but I have to shrug off quickly as the squeeze really hurts my infected arm. Fern is full of apologies again, before switching to concern. "We really need to find something for that," she says. "I'm surprised you're still feeling okay, the infection's going to set in soon surely."

"I am feeling a bit weak today actually," I admit. "And I'm pretty warm."

"You should have said something!" she admonishes, putting her hand to my forehead. "You've definitely got the beginnings of a fever," she diagnoses, before striding off purposefully.

Conversation is sparse for the next few hours- Fern gets me to concentrate on looking and listening for danger as she rummages through the underbrush, doubtless looking for some sort of plant to help my arm.

Eventually, after we've resumed walking after stopping for some lunch, she lets out a low cry of happiness. "Yes! Rory this is it," she says, holding up a rather ordinary looking leaf.

"How can you tell?" I say, "It's just a big leaf."

"No! Look at the markings on the inside of the indentations…never mind!" she blurts at my blank expression, "it doesn't matter how, this leaf is really good for infected wounds, I've seen the family who own the apothecary use it on animal bites and stuff."

"Great," I say, cracking a genuine, if tentative, smile, "what do I do with it?"

"You have to really mush it up and rub it into the wound," Fern explains, "probably best if you chew it."

"It's not poisonous?"

"I've definitely seen people chew it before…I think," she adds, just as I've started to chew a mouthful.

I spit it out, but she's laughing. "I'm only kidding," she chuckles, "it's fine."

I glare at her as I take another bite, but can't help but smile too. It's not exactly easy to keep spirits high in this place. It's admirable she's trying.

An hour or two later however, my spirits are high; the plant, whatever it is, Fern can't remember the name, has really worked. I feel a lot better, and can already move my arm a little more easily. A lot of pus is seeping from the wound, which, while pretty disgusting, is, Fern assures me, a good thing.

At what I guess is early evening, we start to head back in the direction of our base. We take a slightly different route back, having moved away from the river earlier as Fern searched for plants, but are forced to detour from the river again, as we spot the green lights on a section of trees that signifies they will release poisonous gas.

The last part of the walk is very tense and nervy. First we see boot prints in the soft earth near the river, headed the same way we are, and then a cannon goes off.

Fern glances at me, but we don't need to say anything. We want to get back to our burrow as quickly as possible. Thankfully we reach the tree we marked within about 10 minutes, and manage to follow our knifed trees back. Darkness is starting to fall by the time we get there, and satisfied that not hearing the hovercraft means the killer isn't in our vicinity, we sit outside the burrow's entrance to wait for the anthem.

It comes soon, to reveal that today's victim was Cinnamon, from district 11.

"I'd almost forgotten about her," I admit to Fern sadly, as her bright green eyes stare down at us for the final time.

"I know what you mean," Fern agrees, "I've been worrying so much about the careers and Grove and Jeremiah with their training scores that I'd not really thought about who else was left…"

"Well, one closer to winning," I say grimly.

"Yeah," replies Fern bitterly, "and one more family without their daughter…"

I simply bow my head. We both know what we think of The Games, but what can we do. To voice our thoughts about it in public would be virtual suicide, and while I'm sad about all the kids that have died, I'm not ready to be a martyr for them.

Fern obviously has the same thought, as she sits in silence for a few minutes too, before suggesting we head inside. I agree, as it's getting dark and I'm not feeling terribly alert anyway.

"How's your arm?" asks Fern quietly once we're sat inside.

"A lot better," I say, trying to sound positive. "Not perfect, but a lot better."

She reaches over to rest the back of her hand on my forehead for a few seconds. "Your fever seems to have gone too," she says with a weak smile.

"Yup," I nod firmly. "We're still in this."

"I can't believe we've not seen any of the others yet though…" muses Fern, "I know it's a huge arena, but the gamemakers usually try and force the tributes together by the final eight."

"Maybe they're forcing the others towards us," I offer, "there's a cheery thought."

"What's our plan then?" asks Fern. "I think we've gotten past the stage where we can just keep hoping we don't run into anyone. What do we do if we find someone- fight or run?"

"You run, I fight," I reply bluntly. The thought is not a pleasant one, but if we did run into Jade, I'd have to at least try and give Fern a chance to escape. There's no way we could beat her in a fight, even two-on-one, and she's far to fast to run from.

"What, because I'm a girl?" Fern replies. Her voice isn't raised, but the look she gives me is fierce. "There's a thin line between chivalry and chauvinism Rory."

"It's nothing to do with you being a girl," I explain. "It's do with me having a weapon I know how to use. No offence, but you're not going to beat anyone properly trained in a fight with that knife. If you had a sling then it'd be different."

"What if Jade catches up with us?" she asks. "No offence to you, but you couldn't beat her in a fight with a proper staff, never mind one you've made yourself. Do we both run?"

"She too fast," I say sombrely, "even if we split up she'd catch one of us."

Judging by the look that crosses her face, a combination of surprise and softness, Fern seems to realise what that means, but she voices it anyway. "So are you saying you'd fight her to let me escape rather that take your fifty-fifty chance by running?"

I shrug, trying to display nonchalance that I'm not feeling. What I really want to do is tell Fern that of course I would, I care about her too much to leave her alone for Jade. Instead however, I say "It's probably not fifty-fifty to be fair. She's likely to go after me, what with my higher score. Plus I don't think she likes me much."

"I'm not sure she likes anyone much," Fern says with a rueful chuckle.

"Yeah, but I pissed her off," I insist. "The morning before we came in here I was awake early so I went up to the roof of the training centre and bumped into her. She threatened me and I acted all cool and not scared at all, even though I was a bit. Okay, a lot," I add with a grin as Fern shoot me a look after I've said 'a bit'. "Anyway, I don't think she was happy about that. It might be a chance in a thousand, but I still reckon I've got more chance of beating her in a fight than a race. Besides, if I am going to die, I'd rather die fighting than with a knife in the back running."

Fern nods and silence falls for a minute or so, before she says "I don't know if I could run and just leave you. I…I really care about you Rory."

My heart flutters at that, but my brain shouts it down. Only one of us can live. At most. It's pretty dark in here now, but I'm sure she's blushing.

"I care about you too," I say nervously reaching out to take her hand, "but only one of us can survive. The only way to make sure I survive is to die. Are you really ready to die for me? Do that to your family?" I stare firmly straight into her eyes as I say this. "You have to run if we see Jade."

"I...I-" her voice catches and she doesn't say anything else, but she does give the smallest of nods. I think she understands. I hope so at least.

"If we see Varro on his own, then we run together," I say, my tone to-the-point. "Anyone else we could fight or run."

"Okay," Fern manages to whisper.

The atmosphere is pretty awkward after that, I think both of us want to say more, I certainly know I do, but the situation just isn't right. We resolve to get some sleep, but, perhaps unsurprisingly at this stage in the Games, it isn't that easy.

For a while I just think I'm noticing the effects of my fever leaving me, as it seems to be getting colder. Soon, however it's far to cold for it to just be me, and Fern confirms it by starting to shiver noisily, even with the coat pulled around her already.

"This is ridiculous," she manages for articulate through chattering teeth. "Do you reckon they're trying to force us out of here?"

I shrug. "I'll go see if it's as cold outside," I reply simply.

"Rory!" she calls after me.

"What?"

"Please be careful."

"I will," I say, though I know as well as she does that a good reason for the gamemakers forcing us from the burrow would be the presence of other tributes outside.

A few seconds later however, I realise that doesn't appear to be their intention. It's just as cold outside, so they're not only targeting us. Maybe they just think all the tributes have been having it too easy recently.

I tell Fern so after heading back inside and she offers her own point of view. "They don't normally let people die of cold though, maybe earlier in the Games to root out the weaker tributes, but not in the final eight. It's too boring for the audience."

"I know," I say, "but that doesn't change the fact that it's far too cold to sleep like this." I gesture down to my clothing- just a t-shirt and fairly thin jacket.

She takes the coat off. "We can share this," she says, insisting over my protestations. "Plus you've got some more cloth in the backpack, stuff that down your shirt."

"Yeah, good idea," I say, neglecting to point out that I had already had the same one earlier in the Games. I have no idea why I hadn't thought of the same thing now. "Here," I say, offering her some cloth too. There isn't a huge amount, but it helps a little, and that's all that matters.

"We should probably…you know…" Fern mutters.

"What?" I say, genuinely, and understandably I think, not knowing what she's on about, though she does appear to be blushing again.

"You know," she says again, "like huddle…share body heat."

"Oh," I say in realisation. "Uh, yeah, of course."

Any eye contact we make as we try to find a comfortable way to huddle together is filled with awkwardness, but once we're settled that fades. I'm sitting on the floor with my back against the wall of the burrow, with Fern sat to my left, leaning towards my, her head resting at the top of my chest, my arms around her torso.

It feels very intimate, but not at all strange. It feels right, to be holding her like this, so much so that for a moment I forgot about the cold completely. The shared body heat definitely reduces the shivering, but we're still cold, and although Fern doesn't say anything and her face is hidden from me, I can tell I'm not the only one still too cold to sleep.