He has no idea how he got here.

The boy blinks once, twice, as if waking up from a nap. The arena around him comes into focus: a forested landscape, blanketed in a pristine coating of snow. He wears a pack on his back, and a spotless silver knife sits in his hand. Turning around, he notices a path of footprints leading… towards him?

Oh. His own footprints.

(He didn't even realize that one could leave footprints in the snow.

He's never seen snow before.)

(…)

(If he left footprints in the snow, other people could follow his trail.)

Without hesitation, he begins to back up slowly, taking great care to place his feet exactly in the footprints he'd already left behind. He needs a way to ensure that other tributes can't follow him, and he knows it would be a bad idea to walk all the way back to the Cornucopia to cover them up. If he can get about halfway back, he can start walking in another direction, leaving the other tributes with no clear way to follow him.

As he backtracks, he finds himself thinking back through the events of the morning – or at least trying to. He can't imagine how much of a disadvantage he'll be at if he can't remember anything from the crucial first hours of the Games. But the only thing he can clearly remember is the glass cylinder lowering around him as he waited on the metal plate in his launch room. He knows he must have gone into the bloodbath for at least a little bit; that's the only way he could possibly have gotten the pack on his back. Past that…

Past that, he has no idea.

BOOM!

The boy jumps, eyes darting left and right as he searches for the source of the explosion. It takes him a moment to calm down; his heart rate only slows once he remembers that, in the Games, the sound of a cannon is a good thing.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

(It's strange, he thinks, to feel relief at the sound of each cannon. Strange, in part, because one should never feel relief at the news of the death of a child. And strange, in part, because if he even feels somewhat relieved, it means there is a part of him that wants to survive.)

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

(He's been surviving for three years now. He just didn't know that was something he wanted to do.)

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Ten down. Fourteen left.

The boy closes his eyes, allowing himself a moment – just a moment – to mourn those lives cut short too soon. Then he takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and takes another step backward.

And collides into something.

He leaps back and whirls around, fully prepared to defend himself against…

A little girl.

"Oh! It's you!"

"Issy?" he says, slowly lowering the blade. "How did you…"

"I've been tip-toeing in other people's footsteps. I don't want people to follow mine, and my feet are small enough that I can. I'm just glad I picked yours!"

He looks down. Sure enough, inside each of his larger footprints is a tiny print, the toe of Ismeria's little feet. "I'm impressed."

"Thank you! I'm gonna keep following you now."

"Well…"

He hesitates. The two of them never formally agreed on an alliance in training. He could easily tell her not to follow him – or, more kindly, he could send her down his first path of footprints while he went in another direction. It would be so much easier to handle the Games without a child by his side.

(If he never lets himself get attached to her, he can't lose her.)

But that line of thinking doesn't sit right with the boy. And no matter how much his brain screams at him to do anything but, he knows that his heart will win out. It feels too right to have her with him – and it feels too wrong to leave her alone.

He's made that mistake once before. Oskan Kemal won't let himself do it again.

Four more cannons fire before the anthem plays.

The first sounds just after Oskan and Issy stop for lunch. The second booms around mid-afternoon. The third and fourth echo within minutes of each other, just as Issy and Oskan stop to set up camp for the night.

"Does that mean… fourteen dead?" Issy asks.

"Yeah," Oskan replies, slipping his knife into the sheath on his belt.

"That feels like a lot."

"It is. Especially for the first day."

There's not much more to be said, so the two return to the task at hand. Oskan guides Issy through the steps of setting up camp: setting snares and sorting supplies, melting snow and purifying water, cooking any animals they can catch and putting out the fire as soon as they're done. It takes some time, but they work well together; for a moment, Oskan almost wonders if this is what it would be like to camp out in the woods of Seven.

The blaring of the anthem quickly shatters that daydream.

Fourteen portraits illuminate the sky, representing fourteen children who will never see their homes again. Oskan tries to remember their faces, but by the time the sky fades, every single one has disappeared from his memory.

As the sky fades to black, Oskan hears a sob coming from where Issy sits. Wordlessly, he sits down next to her, wrapping her tightly in a hug. "I know it's hard," he says; there's nothing much else he can say.

(He hasn't been good at comforting others for a long time.)

(He hasn't felt comfort in a long time.)

Issy shivers, curling tighter into Oskan's side as her sobs die down. "I hope their families aren't too sad," she chokes out.

"I hope so too."

Oskan doesn't know how much time passes before Issy squirms a bit. She lets out the tiniest little yawn as she repositions herself so that her head rests on his shoulder. "Can I tell you a story before I go to sleep?"

"Huh?"

"A story. My mom and I used to make up a story together every night before I went to sleep. I want to continue it."

"Sure," Oskan replies, a little warily.

"Okay! So the last part that Mom and I made up together was when the giant green angry space creature landed down on Earth and swiped up Khyona from her home. Except the giant green angry space creature wasn't actually angry. It was just looking for a friend! And Khyona – oh, she's the main character of the story – was really happy to be its friend. (This is the new part now.) Especially because the giant not-so-angry green space creature was super bouncy and also super strong! He used to throw Khyona high up in the air, and she'd bounce on his belly until she got sick from jumping so much.

"The problem was that not everyone understood that the giant space creature wasn't angry just because it was big and green. So when they saw that the space creature took Khyona away, they got scared and chased after it. They brought all sorts of knives and other sharp things and stormed the creature's ship, demanding that it return Khyona to her home.

"The space creature tried to explain that Khyona was there because she wanted to be and that Khyona was its friend. But no matter what it tried to say, the people couldn't understand it. They didn't speak the space creature's language, and they didn't even try to learn it. They just wanted to do what they thought was right, not what was right for Khyona.

"The people were just about to start attacking the creature when Khyona ran into the ship! She told the people that the giant space creature was her friend, not a bad guy, and that she wanted to spend time with it! But the people didn't believe her either, because they didn't understand how she could understand the giant angry space creature.

"So Khyona set up a challenge. She said that the people should leave her alone in the ship with the creature for a whole week. if she was still there at the end of the week then it meant she was telling the truth, and if not, then it was her choice either way. The people were a little hesitant, but they eventually agreed.

"Sure enough, when they came back the next week, they found Khyona alive, well, and happy, if not a little slimy. The people finally admitted that they were wrong and that Khyona knew best, and they apologized to the giant green space creature for being so closed-minded.

"And that's the end of part 96!"

"That's a lot of parts," Oskan remarks vaguely. His mind drifts to a child he once knew from a time long gone by – a time he can only dream of returning to.

"I know," Issy groans, setting back into Oskan's side. "The problem is… I don't know what to do with Khyona next. I've had so many parts that I think I've run out of stories to tell."

Oskan expects his mind to be blank; storytelling is an art form he's long given up. But a voice emerges from somewhere deep inside of him. "What if her next adventure is at the green space creature's home? You can make up whatever you want about the planet where the space creature lives. And then after that, they can travel to all sorts of planets in outer space. You'd have unlimited stories you can tell that way."

"Unlimited stories… that sounds nice…"

The girl curls up into Oskan's chest. Her eyes flutter shut as her breathing slows; soon enough, she's fast asleep, the delicate smile of her dream-self spreading across her face.

And as a gentle fog rolls in, and as he feels his eyelids droop, Oskan feels a smile cross his face, too.

Nothing happens on the second day.

They wake up to a fresh layer of snow on the ground. After covering the area on which they slept so that no indent remains, Issy scampers off to forage for some berries. Oskan, meanwhile, retrieves a rabbit from his snare and sets a fire to cook it for lunch. Once the rabbit is cooked and the berries are eaten, they work together to put out the fire and pack up their supplies. By midmorning, they're ready to set out.

Their journey through the Arena is, fortunately, uneventful. Oskan walks in front, knife in hand and light on his feet so as not to pack in the snow; Issy stays close behind, dragging a pine branch over their footprints to cover their tracks. Every few hours, they stop to take a sip of water or eat a bite of rabbit, but they quickly set out on their way again.

They wander aimlessly for the most part, alternating between wide circles and tight zig-zags to keep other tributes from following them too closely. There are no real landmarks in the Arena, meaning nothing to walk towards – or to avoid – but neither really minds. Really, they're more concerned about running into other tributes, but even though the trees are sparse, they don't see another soul for the whole day.

By the time night falls, they're both exhausted. They go through the motions of setting up camp, though neither can truly keep their eyes open. Once everything is settled, the two curl up under a tree to wait for the anthem to play; Issy doesn't even have the energy to tell another part of her story.

Both fall asleep before the fog rolls in.

They wake once again to a fresh layer of snow on the ground. They clean up their camp, pack up their supplies, and head out, one in front of the other. They walk just as aimlessly on through the Arena, just as careful to cover up their tracks and just as wary of other tributes, but somehow, their journey is just as uneventful.

They settle on a campsite earlier this time, just as twilight turns to dusk. Seamlessly, the pair weave around each other: Oskan sets a fire while Issy forages for berries, Oskan melts a lump of snow while Issy sorts their supplies, Oskan puts out the fire while Issy purifies the water.

It's odd to Oskan how he and Issy operate like a little family unit when they've only known each other for a matter of days. Even odder still, he doesn't mind the silence when he's with her. His mind doesn't feel numbingly empty, and his thoughts don't crowd his brain; the quiet, for the first time in a long time, feels peaceful.

(Deep down, he knows why this feels so natural. Oskan just isn't ready to think about that yet.)

As they settle down for the night, Issy curled into Oskan's side as always, she looks up at him with expectant eyes. "Can you tell me a story?"

Oskan hesitates. "I haven't told a story in a long, long time," he admits.

"So tell me something about yourself and make it into a story!"

Automatically, the boy murmurs, "I don't know if I know what my story is anymore."

"What?"

"It's not important," he blurts out. "Let me see if I can think of something for you."

"Yay! I'm excited."

Oskan takes a moment to think about the stories he's told - and the stories he's become. Eventually, he settles on one, the first that he came up with after… after…

"Once upon a time, there was a boy. A boy named… Altan. Altan lived in a small home with a loving family who cared for him deeply, and whom he cared for deeply. One day, when he was fourteen, a tornado hit while Altan was at school. Altan was evacuated with his class to another city. When he came back, his home was destroyed, and he couldn't find his family. Altan waited for them for a few days, but they never came back for him. He was all alone."

There's a pause. "Keep going!" Issy insists. "That's way too short of a story."

"Well…" Oskan thinks for a moment, then continues on. "After some time, Altan decided he had enough of waiting. He began to wander the district, searching for his family; maybe they were evacuated to another area of the district and never found their way back. So he packed up a small bag and began to wander the district looking for his family.

"Along the way, Altan stopped at many farms to work for money and food. He'd spend a few days there helping out, getting to know all the farm hands along the way. At every farm, he asked about his family; usually, the other workers knew nothing, but they would always promise him to keep an eye out. Altan vowed to keep walking until they found his family, or until he'd scoured the whole district. Some say he's still wandering today."

Oskan takes a small sip from his water bottle. He opens his mouth to change the subject, but before he can, Issy asks groggily, "Is that the end?"

"Uh…"

"It would be really sad if that was the ending. His family has to be out there."

Oskan doesn't know how to tell her that there is no ending to the story, that it cut off long before there could ever be an end. But as the girl looks up at him with her wide brown eyes, he feels something spark in him for the first time in ages.

Is that… inspiration?

"Well, it took some time, but he did find his family, in a town not far from where he grew up. Not all of them – one of his siblings died in the tornado – but most of them, and they welcomed Altan back with open arms. But Altan found that he liked to roam the district, meeting new people and learning their stories. So he said goodbye to his family, promised to visit often, and set back off again. After all, what use is it to live in a world you can't explore?"

Issy looks up with a smile. "You tell stories really good, Oskan."

"Thank you, Issy."

"I wish I could tell stories like you someday."

"I do too."

Oskan watches as a realization - the very one he'd hoped to protect her from - crosses Issy's face. Quietly, she asks, "If… if something happens, can you make sure… can you tell someone else the story I made up with Mom?"

"I mean, I don't know if…"

"Please, Oskan," she begs, an urgency in her voice that Oskan has never heard before. "Someone has to tell it."

Oskan wraps the girl in a firm hug. "I might not be able to," he admits, "and I don't want to break a promise to you. But for as long as I have, I'll do my best to make sure somebody will."

"You will?"

"I will. I won't let your stories die."

When the fourth morning, too, passes without incident, Oskan begins to worry. As action-packed as the first day was, from all he can tell, it's been far too quiet since. Sure, it's possible that there's been some action in other areas of the Arena, but that won't tide the Capitol over for long; Oskan is sure that even the least sadistic of the Capitolites are already craving blood.

Of course, the last thing he wants is for him and Issy to get caught in the crossfire. He knows that only one of them can make it out of here, but that is a reality that neither of them is ready to confront, a choice that he'd rather not have to make until far down the line. For as long as he can keep both of them safe, he's going to – because if he dies, who will protect Issy?

But if they don't do something soon, what's stopping them from becoming the Gamemakers' next target?

"Everything OK?" Issy asks from behind him.

"Yeah," Oskan replies, doing his best to prevent his thoughts from leaking into his voice. He can't imagine how nervous she'll get if she realizes how worried he is, and that's the last thing Oskan wants. "Why?"

"You're starting to sweat. Like, a lot."

"Oh. I think that's just because the Arena is heating up." It's not a total lie – the Arena does feel at least a few degrees warmer to Oskan than it did when they launched. "Does it feel warmer to you?"

"Maybe a little? But not that much. Maybe you should take off your jacket if you're feeling so warm. There's room in your pack for it."

"Yeah, that would do it. Do you wanna take a water break while I rearrange my stuff?"

"Sure!"

Oskan sets his pack down and tosses a water bottle to Issy, then peels his jacket off and starts to roll it up. As he opens his bag to stuff it in, he hears the unmistakable sound of a cannon firing.

And just like that, a weight lifts off of Oskan's chest.

"Here, take a sip too," Issy says, offering the bottle to Oskan. "You look better already, though."

"Yeah. I feel better, too."

After a few more minutes of rest, Oskan and Issy put their packs back on and set out once more. But they don't get much more than a mile or two before Issy taps Oskan on the shoulder. "Look over there," she insists.

Oskan glances back at her, then looks in the direction she points. "What are you pointing at?"

"Do you see that black hole over there?"

He squints. Sure enough, there's a small, dark opening in one of the snowbanks in the distance. "Yeah, I think so."

"That could be a good place to camp for the night. We should check it out!"

Oskan hesitates. In an Arena with so few significant landforms – most of it is entirely flat – it feels like a bad idea to walk towards one. There has to be something tied to that cave, and if they're the first to discover the cave, the Gamemakers will surely spring whatever that something is on them. At the same time, he knows that neither he nor Issy has done anything remotely significant since they entered the Arena. As much as they don't want to attract the Gamemakers' attention, they need to make enough of a splash that they don't become expendable.

Oskan does not know what role either of them are playing in the Games right now. If they want to make it to the end, he has to change that.

So with all the confidence he can muster, he nods, then sets off in the direction of the opening.

They continue onwards, slowly and carefully. Their pace is halting at best, as Oskan stops every few feet to check for mutts or traps or tributes. It's not a long walk to the opening Issy spotted, but by the time they arrive, the first strokes of sunset have already been painted across the sky.

In any other Arena, this would be a great camp. The cave itself is large, with more than enough space for both of them to fit inside. Its entrance is just wide enough to fit through but small enough that other tributes might not spot it; it's even camouflaged by a small grove of pine trees. Oskan has no idea how Issy managed to pick out the cave from as far away as she did.

And that's precisely the problem. Oskan has a bad feeling that they weren't supposed to find this cave. But it's already too late to go looking for another campsite before nightfall. Besides, the last thing Oskan wants to do is alarm Issy, who has already begun to set up camp. If he makes them move, she's going to sense that something's up. They have no choice but to stay here for the night.

To say he's displeased by that idea is an understatement. But if this is the situation they've found themselves in, Oskan resolves to face it head-on.

He refuses to fail her. Not this time.

By the time the anthem fades out, Issy's eyes are already fluttering shut. She snuggles deeper into Oskan's side; automatically, Oskan begins to rub her back, until he feels her breathing slow once again.

Reluctantly, Oskan eases Issy off of his lap, moving her body so she's flush with the cave wall. He places her pack under her head, then covers her body with his jacket; in the dark, she looks just enough like a rock jutting out from the cave wall. He lingers by her side for one last moment, watching her figure as her chest expands and contracts, expands and contracts.

Oskan would love nothing more than to stay here with her a little while longer. But he knows he can't afford to.

If he wants to keep her safe, he has a job to do.

He takes a deep breath, then slips out of the cave, making a beeline for the snares he set while they were setting up camp. His plan is simple: retrieve the snares, set them up as a trap of sorts around Issy's sleeping figure, then sit at the opening of the cave to watch out for anything that might harm them. When morning comes, he'll put the snares back; naturally, they won't have caught any animals, but Issy needs their protection far more.

Oskan makes it all of seven steps away from the cave before he hears a scream.

Issy's scream.