lovely is the silence, a hunger games fanfic

for goldie, with love

July 24, 123 ADD.

Subject: RE: RE: Proposal

Thank you so much for hearing out my proposal. This is something I've been working on for a long time – relatively speaking.

Naturally, I wouldn't do anything I wasn't willing to test on myself first. Attached is an overlook of my own experience, a collection of my own memories from before the Games and after. I'm afraid not everything translates as well as I hoped. While some memories are still crystal clear, others are… less so.

Please reach out if there's anything I can clarify for you.

Kalanit Al-Amin

July 25, 123 ADD.

Subject: RE: :RE: RE: Proposal

There is no need for such formality, Kalanit. If this proposal is something we both intend to go forward with, then I have a feeling we'll be working together very closely.

On a brief skim, I have to say I'm incredibly intrigued. My concern, however, lies with the degree of personal intel that you've given me. The last thing I want to do is overstep. Are you sure this is something I should be reading?

Regards,

Z. Emerson

July 25, 123 ADD.

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: Proposal

I wouldn't have sent this to you if I didn't have complete trust in you. I know what I'm asking for is a lot. I'm sure other Victors will be hesitant. My goal is to take things from here, so any secrets spilled will go through a fellow Victor, someone with a chance of understanding.

I am still young. I don't have the general life experience that many others do. My Games were not the hardest. I was thirteen, and some days, I think I never grew any older. I don't feel like I've truly shaken my own naivete.

But I know this: I've seen a lot, and I've heard even more. What I want is the chance to make a difference, and to help others moving forward. Whether this works or not, I want the opportunity to try. If you give me this chance, I swear I won't let you down.

Kalanit Al-Amin

PS: With all due respect, ma'am, if you're requesting I drop the formality, then I must ask the same of you.

The day is hot, and the sun beats down, relentlessly bright. But the wind against Kalanit's face is cool and her spirits are high. They're out in the garden today, Kalanit and her mother, and Rahamana has promised something new. Whether it's a secret or a plant, Kalanit can never be sure. Naturally, she hopes it's both.

The clouds above are thin and wispy, offering little shade. Beads of sweat are beginning to roll down Kalanit's face, but she wouldn't think of complaining.

There is nowhere in the world she'd rather be.

"How long will it take to grow and be like the others?" Kalanit asks, scrutinizing the plant before her.

Rahamana hums, using her bare hands to pack more dirt around the base of the willow. She's always preferred to garden without gloves – she claims that despite the mess, it's a better way to get a feel for gardening. Kalanit doesn't quite understand the intuitive nature of the matter, but she does like the feel of fresh dirt beneath her fingers, so she follows suit.

"Fifteen years? Twenty? It's hard to say when we all grow at different rates."

"That's a long time."

"Nothing reaches its full potential overnight."

Kalanit leans back, surveying the newly planted willow once more. The trunk is thin, the leaves are smaller than her pinky, and the whole tree is shorter than she is.

"It's just… so small," Kalanit says. She can't imagine taking years to watch it grow. She tries to wipe the sweat off her forehead with a hand she realizes, a little too late, is smeared with dirt.

Rahamana laughs, the sound warm and bright. She reaches over with a rag, because of course she knew Kalanit would manage to make a mess – she always knows – and gently rubs the dirt away. "Once upon a time, so were you."

"And you."

"Everything great had to start as something small."

Kalanit marvels at this revelation for a moment. It's obvious enough, but there's something about the way Rahamana speaks that just resonates with her. Kalanit's mother is the wisest person she knows. There's nothing she says that Kalanit doesn't trust wholeheartedly.

"This next part is important." Rahamana stands, and Kalanit follows eagerly. There is no real need to clarify how much of Rahamana's statements are important – in Kalanit's eyes, they all are. But she understands that such things are emphasized for a reason, and she will earnestly open her mind and ears even more.

Together, they wind their way deeper into the garden. Kalanit takes care to step only on patches of grass and the wide stones that form a path. One slight misstep could cause a delicate flower to be crushed, and even though her mother can surely replace it, such a loss would devastate Kalanit.

They're approaching an elm tree – the oldest one in the grove. Kalanit has spent days laying in its shade, listening to her mother's stories. It's one of her greatest sources of comfort. Rahamana places a hand on the bark, smiling almost reverently at the tree. Branches fall in Kalanit's face, leaves shimmering in the wind – it's a dance that entrances Kalanit, suspending her in this moment. She feels the grass beneath her bare feet, smells the lightly floral scent wafting through the air, and sees her mother in front of her, patiently waiting to give her yet another seed of knowledge.

It's like something out of a dream. Kalanit could stay in precisely this moment and never grow unhappy.

"Anything can be reborn," Rahamana is saying. "If you only have the right tools."

The train is cold.

This is a sentiment that is applicable in several ways. The windows offer a view to the forests of Seven, but no way to access them. Kalanit is isolated, a world away, leaving everything behind.

(Probably for good.)

Everything about the room she's in is nearly clinical, a mockery of the home she loves so dearly. The walls are covered with ivy, but Kalanit knows that if she reaches out her hand to touch it, it'll be nothing more than wallpaper. The furniture is all shades of brown and green, but none of them are her favorite color — a pale green, like a budding flower. This realization brings a further emptiness when Kalanit realizes she won't be around to see the flowers bloom next spring.

She shivers. After standing in the midday sun for hours, Kalanit is suddenly freezing. Her dress was made for the warm outdoors, and the sun shining through the windows is a pale imitation that brings no warmth at all.

And she feels so very… alone.

Well… mostly alone. After all, Kalanit isn't the only one that got reaped.

Her companion is sitting on the other side of the car from her, casually leafing through a book as if reaching its ending is the only problem he has currently deemed worth solving. While Kalanit has already shed several tears over her current predicament, he remains largely unfazed. His eyebrows are pinched together, and his lips are pulled down into a barely-there frown, but Kalanit suspects that his expression is like that naturally. He looked exactly the same when they shook hands onstage – displeased, but it's the sort of displeasure that results from someone miffed that their day got quite literally rained on. If Kalanit saw him out on the streets, she would not immediately assume that he was on his way to a death match.

"You're staring," he says without looking up from his book.

"Sorry." Kalanit doesn't force her gaze away now that he's initiated a conversation with her. "What are you reading?"

The boy — Roshan, she reminds herself — doesn't look up. "A collection of findings on the impact of different types of soil on how plants grow."

"Wow," Kalanit says. "Light reading?"

"It's what I was in the middle of when I got unceremoniously dragged… here." There's a hint of distaste in his voice. "It would be a shame for something on my stack to be left unread, particularly when I already got so close. So yes, this is light reading."

Fascinating. Kalanit has never heard the technicalities of this subject, but she's familiarized herself with the application of the matter over many years now. Her mother didn't spell out such things using fancy words, claiming that those tended to muddle more than clarify, but Rahamana was always good at saying things in just the right way so that Kalanit always understood.

"What sort of matters does it delve into?" Kalanit asks curiously. Maybe there is more she can still learn.

He finally spares her a cursory glance, dark eyes flickering over her small form. Kalanit is all of thirteen, and she has yet to reach a full five feet tall. Roshan, on the other hand, came straight out of the eighteen-year-old section, and towers well more than a foot above her. Compared to him, Kalanit is the sort of tribute that will be entirely overlooked.

Humming, he closes the book, leaving his finger in to keep his place, but willing to indulge for the moment. "I have an interest in researching these types of matters for the plant I work at. If there's anything that can make the trees grow stronger and faster, I'm the person that's going to find the best method and implement it."

"Sounds important, considering our economy revolves around such matters."

"Incredibly. And the market is competitive. If one minor change is enough to improve the output, even if it takes time, then that's enough to change the tides for years to come."

"I didn't even know there was a job where you could do that."

"It's vastly preferable to the manual labor that many others participate in. Besides, I like reading."

"So do I," Kalanit says, "but I've never read a book like that before."

"You are young," he replies, though his tone is anything but dismissive. "There are supposed to be many years ahead of you where you refine your taste. Provided you get the chance to meet them head-on, I have faith you will find something that speaks to you like research does to me."

"When did you start reading books like this?"

Roshan tilts his head to the side. "Nearly three years ago? I was sixteen. I have always enjoyed research projects, and I am known to write up appeals if my research shows the potential to be profitable. I suppose I have made my name rather infamous in some circles, and valuable in others."

Kalanit frowns, caught up on the beginning of his tangent. "You're almost nineteen?"

"Provided I make it past the bloodbath, I will be. The sixteenth."

"Oh," she breathes. "I'm sorry."

"I have never understood why people say that. I have had my name in the bowl the same amount of times as everyone else. There was nothing I stood to lose until right now."

"Is there not a part of you that feels cheated?"

"No more than you, I would imagine. Have you ever taken out tesserae?"

Kalanit's hands tense in her lap. "No."

"You are thirteen. That is two slips out of thousands. I have seven. I am also older and stronger and theoretically more well-educated. On the surface, my chances are far better than yours."

"Why do you say it like that? 'Theoretically?' 'On the surface?'"

"I am looking at things objectively. A capitolite will more than likely see you and write you off immediately."

"But you haven't?"

"I don't believe you should be discounted so quickly."

"And why is that?"

Roshan has not smiled once during their whole conversation, but Kalanit is beginning to understand that this doesn't mean he's not entertained. At some point, he set the book to the side entirely. Kalanit originally wanted to ask him questions, learn a little, but it looks like she has somehow caught his attention in return.

"I have a feeling," he says simply. "Not everything can be so easily based in logic. Would you be interested in forming an alliance?"

Kalanit has never seen this many people before.

Their eccentricities are almost overwhelming. Her stylist and prep team's skin were various shades of green, like they were trying to paint their bodies to blend in with the leaves of Seven. She was reluctant to ask if it was permanent.

When she met up with Roshan, she discovered they were in different versions of the same outfit: modifications were added to their ears to make them pointed, Kalanit's dress appeared to be individual petals sewn together, while Roshan's was made of leaves, and they were dripping with silver and gold jewelry. They look exactly like creatures that could've stepped out of an old wives' tale back home. They are born of the forest, have lived entirely in the forest, and one day will be laid to rest in the forest as well.

"This looks like it will be a nightmare to get off later," is the first thing Roshan says when she draws close.

"I like it," Kalanit admits. "I've never seen my hair so… delicately done."

Her prep team carefully wove silver into her blonde hair, and then braided it all back and curled ringlets to fall into her face. Kalanit cannot see any practical purpose for wearing her hair this way, but she feels pretty enough that she resents having to sleep on it tonight.

"It looks nice," Roshan says. "Very… otherworldly."

"You don't seem to like yours."

"I like green," is all he offers in response.

Before Kalanit comes up with something else to say, the crowd outside cheers loudly enough to make her ears ring. They're still hidden away, out of sight of anyone besides other tributes and mentors, but Kalanit can still feel the eyes of thousands upon thousands of capitolites pressing in on her.

"Which one is your favorite?"

Kalanit gives Roshan a strange look. "What?"

"The other outfits. Which one is your favorite?"

She didn't think he was the type to engage in smalltalk, but Kalanit will accept the distraction anyway. She had almost forgotten that this was the first time she and the other tributes were all in the same place.

(It's then, of course, that Kalanit remembers. Only one of them will make it out alive. Of the twenty-four milling about, twenty-three will be dead soon enough, their grave dug, their story forgotten.

And, looking around at all of them, Kalanit cannot imagine how someone like her even stands a chance.)

She swallows. "Four is always lovely. The blues and greens… With the scales, Kana and Ryujin remind me of fish at the bottom of the ocean."

During the train ride, they spent a good portion of time working on learning tribute names. Roshan asked for her opinion on many of them – Which Career looks the most dangerous? Which outliers would make for good allies? Who should never, under any circumstances, be underestimated? – and shared his own thoughts after she was done. They agreed on most things, but Roshan tended to offer his opinions like they were up for debate, like he wanted Kalanit to argue against him.

"There are many unimaginative stylists," Roshan critiques, staring right at the farm animals from Ten as he speaks. "One would argue that negative attention is better than no attention, but first impressions count for a lot. Which one really catches your eye?"

Kalanit nods and tries again. She can count out the Careers almost immediately – shiny, stone, and ocean are themes that get played out year after year. Nine is bundles of grain, Twelve is wearing coal dust, Eight is an incomprehensible mishmash of fabrics…

"Three," Kalanit decides on, pointing to a blond boy that catches her eye. "See?"

"Why?"

"He keeps messing with a spot in the middle of his chest. I'd think it was a nervous tic, but it's more like he's… reassuring himself that something will work."

"I caught sight of the girl earlier. She had something resembling a button in the middle of her chest. They're two circuit boards, waiting to be turned on."

"Do you agree, then?"

Roshan hums. "I am partial to Six's mapping of the train system."

"Because you find mapping interesting?"

"Precisely. My own interests are of the utmost importance."

Kalanit shakes her head. "I still like the fish, then. And Eleven's cycle of flowering trees."

"They will make a mess."

"A pretty mess," she corrects.

"That is subjective."

Kalanit shrugs. "Should we get on the chariot yet?"

Roshan surveys the area once more. "Might as well. Looks like everyone is finally here."

It isn't hard to find their chariot – besides the large gold seven emblazoned on the side, the whole thing is made of wood and has ivy creeping up the sides. The Capitol really does love its theming.

Roshan gets up first, then pauses and extends his hand for Kalanit to take. She pauses only briefly, and then grabs on tightly. Even when she is safely on the chariot, Roshan makes no move to let go of her hand.

"I do not want you to fall," he says without looking at her.

Kalanit smiles to herself. If she didn't know any better, she'd think she was on the verge of making a friend.

By day two of training, things have fallen into a strange sense of normalcy.

It's rather odd to think of it that way. Kalanit's life has been thrown off balance over the course of the past several years, time and time again, and somehow this is the most painfully normal she's felt since…

Her chest squeezes painfully. Kalanit tries not to linger on her past for long. She still remembers the bitter sting of loneliness, the sudden harshness of winter, and a creeping sense of danger all around. Now that she's away from Seven entirely, there are certainly parts that she misses, but in other ways it's almost a reprieve.

(Key word almost. When Kalanit goes to sleep each night, she continues to dream of home. Rahamana is there, but her voice is distorted, as if she's out of reach. They tend to the garden together, tell stories together, and laugh together. And yet every time Kalanit is able to feel at peace, something begins to change. The wisteria creeps in, lovely in its destructiveness, and no matter how hard Kalanit tries to tear it free, it chokes the life out of everything it touches.

Kalanit wakes up and remembers all the things she cannot save, everything she cannot return to. Her bedside table at the Capitol is lonely without a familiar, unopened box for her to lay eyes on each morning.

She misses home desperately. But she fears that even if she managed to return, there would be nothing left.)

To be honest, many of the training stations are fun. Roshan and Kalanit fall into a comfortable pattern: every morning, they visit whatever survival station they can get their hands on – all the better if it's devoid of other tributes – take turns quizzing each other on what they've learned, and then move onto the next. The logic is that as long as they are both minimally competent, they can balance out each other's weaknesses later, and move on to spend their afternoons trying out various weapons.

Kalanit's favorite part of the day is obviously the first half. She gets the sense that Roshan is much the same way, but they've both resigned themselves to the fact that it's an exceedingly rare occurrence for a Victor to win without a viable weapon, much less win without any bloodshed at all.

They've already struck out several times. Ranged weapons were no good – for one, Kalanit could barely draw back the string, and Roshan could barely hit the target. Besides their own lack of competency, the station is constantly taken over by the One girl, Citrine. Kalanit could watch her for hours if she wasn't so horrified by the other girl's sheer skill. She's lightning fast, never misses a shot, and takes no issue with the fact that she's demonstrating this skill for all to see.

It's a barely concealed threat, Roshan told her yesterday. By showing us all exactly what she's capable of, she's broadcasting her strengths and weaknesses, but she's also admitting that she doubts any of us stand a chance even with that knowledge.

Today, as soon as lunch is done, she and Roshan wind up at stations next to each other. He wanted the chance to try out swords, and after they discovered Kalanit was much too small for something as big as a spear or trident, her best chance lies with something small, like a knife.

"Do you know anatomical landmarks?" Roshan asks, eyeing the dummy in front of them.

"Enough," Kalanit says, passing the knife between her hands. "Enough to know the neck would be my best shot, but I doubt my ability to reach that area on most people."

"Only if you're aiming to kill," another voice cuts in. "Finding another way to knock down a much larger threat could prove just as effective."

Kalanit startles, and Roshan merely blinks at their new companion. Or, rather, companions. The one that spoke is the blond boy from Three, but he's being trailed by the redhead from Six. She eyes the array of weapons in front of Kalanit, and selects a dagger with a jagged edge. She's at least half a head taller than Kalanit, so she'll have a much easier time against larger opponents.

"Sorry," the boy laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. Kalanit believes she remembers his name to be Kaiser. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Kalanit isn't sure who he's referring to, but Roshan appears miffed. "The ability to incapacitate is just as important as knowing where to aim to kill," he says, still talking directly to Kalanit. "You could just as easily aim for the tendon in a person's heel, or the back of their knee."

"Any sort of stomach wound could turn deadly," the girl says now, eager to contribute. "And, at the very least, it'll slow down your opponent enough to let you get another hit in."

"Exactly, Vel," Kaiser says. He ruffles the girl's hair, grinning as she squawks indignantly and tries to smooth down her bangs. "A bigger surface area gives you a better chance of hitting something."

"Right," Kalanit says. "Even if you're up against a stronger and faster opponent, as long as you can outwit them…"

"Most Careers rely too much on their own training." Roshan's lips have pulled down into a frown. "As long as you can utilize your mind and environment in a way that they don't expect, they'll be too caught up in their own perceived invincibility to remember anyone can be a threat."

Kalanit nods once, taking a moment to absorb this information. After all, it could be true about anyone. The other tributes have been slowly breaking off into alliances, though there are still a few lone stragglers. Of the other alliances, the one headed by the boisterous girl from Nine, Achlys, has caught her eye more than once. Partially due to the fact that it includes the youngest tribute of the group – Aster from Eleven, a shy girl that has managed to find herself in a relatively safe spot. Kalanit isn't sure what skills she brings to the table for the rest of her allies, but sometimes the most important thing one can possess is a strong character.

"... be interested in that?"

Her gaze snaps back to Kaiser, who is directing his question to Roshan. Vel – Velocity? – has started practicing against the dummies, but Kalanit can tell she's very clearly still listening in.

Honestly, there's only one reason Kalanit can think of that would make two other tributes approach them like this. For whatever reason, they're interested in an alliance. She trades a glance with Roshan, who remains as impassive as ever.

"Should I be?" he asks instead. "Kalanit, what do you think they have to offer us?"

Kaiser laughs aloud, but he doesn't seem offended. Instead, he drops into a somewhat exaggerated bow. "I should've introduced us properly. I'm Kaiser Mirat, and that's Velocity Schaeffer."

"But I prefer Vel," she corrects, giving Kaiser a filthy look. "And yes, we're looking for someone to round out our alliance."

"What made you choose us?" Roshan asks.

Kaiser shrugs. "A good feeling?"

"Entirely nonsensical. You should aim for a more logical approach."

"I don't see why. Surely trying to find some enjoyment in what could be the last couple weeks of my life is logical enough."

"Only if your intention is to end up dead by the end of it."

This isn't getting anywhere. Kalanit isn't sure what about Kaiser has gotten so under Roshan's skin, but he didn't seem so averse to alliances based on personal feelings when he made his proposal to her.

She sighs. "They've spent most of their days at survival stations, but Vel is incredibly proficient at anything related to agility. She's fast and good at thinking on her feet in a fight. Kaiser has dabbled in anything from plants to camouflage, but his favorite station by far is traps, where he'll go completely off book and make something that impresses even the trainers."

Kaiser gives her a crooked smile. "You noticed all that?"

Roshan is finally genuinely intrigued. "Where'd you learn that?" he asks Kaiser.

"I'm a research student over in Three. My primary focus is architecture, but I'm taking a slew of side classes to round out my portfolio. I'm in the middle of several botany and art classes, so I wanted to test out if those classes would be any help to me here."

"Were they?"

"You'll have to ally with me and find out."

Roshan doesn't respond, instead turning to Vel, who shrugs. "I work in a factory. Most factory owners in Six don't mind your age as long as you keep your fingers free of the machinery and don't make them write up a report."

She wiggles her fingers – all ten of them. Kalanit isn't really sure what to say in response.

"That sounds unethical," Roshan says. "Are there not statutes in place to prevent these large companies from taking advantage of you?"

She quirks a brow. "Definitely not. Besides, this shit is swept under the rug anyway. Technically, you're legal as soon as you turn sixteen. Hiring a few fresh faces here and there that fall below that mark is the standard. No one's gonna look twice if they're doing the same thing. So I'm quick and efficient, because to be anything else would be my own downfall."

"So?" Kaiser asks. "You've got us all figured out now – what do you think?"

Again, Roshan turns to Kalanit, silently waiting for her answer. What does she think?

(What does Kalanit think?)

(Kalanit thinks that her mother would have all the right answers. It's times like these when she doubts herself most – when she fears that the right choice isn't as clear as she might think, and the wrong choice could have devastating consequences.

But Rahamana isn't here. She's been gone for years. And Kalanit has no one to fall back on but herself.)

"Okay," Kalanit says, extending a hand to Kaiser. "We accept."

Kalanit has never seen so many people in one room before.

The party is in full swing. People are crowded in every corner of the room, and Kalanit isn't tall enough to see over most of their heads. She makes sure to stick by Roshan's side most of the night, afraid of getting swept away in the tide of the crowd. Every time the people around them shift too suddenly, he makes sure to find her, placing a hand on her shoulder for reassurance.

Kaiser and Velocity, on the other hand, are having an incredible time playing up the capitolites. Kaiser is all too eager to accept drinks from outstretched hands, to the point where Roshan has started grabbing them instead. Each time it happens, Kaiser pouts a little more, but he's started giving Roshan an indecipherable look – or, at the very least, the kind of look that Roshan willfully chooses to ignore.

(Every time it happens, Velocity and Kalanit share a look. It's really a shame their allies are so stubborn.)

Kalanit is just glad that the score reveal is over. The whole process was more nerve-wracking than it had any right to be – everyone's score was ranked from lowest predicted placement to highest, and Kalanit was merely hoping to land in the teens somewhere. Anything lower would drag the rest of her alliance down. She landed nineteenth, which Roshan reassured her was perfectly understandable, but that was hard to come to terms with when he landed a full ten places higher. Kaiser pulled out tenth place, and Velocity managed thirteenth, and they were both more than pleased with themselves.

Though… Kalanit has greatly enjoyed gathering information about the other tributes. Achlys is the highest scoring non-Career, landing herself above both of the Fours. Ryujin, who is only sixteen and didn't even volunteer, barely scraped out eighth place. Citrine scored an eleven, securing her place at the top. Aster, the only tribute younger than Kalanit herself, managed to avoid getting last by one placement.

These are all just numbers, and Kalanit has no idea what anyone else did to earn those scores from the gamemakers, but she's certain that there's something she can learn from this.

(There always is. That's something Rahamana taught her. And, even if Kalanit doesn't always know how to put the pieces together, she knows that it's best to pay attention and hope the right answer reveals itself along the way.)

"You've been quiet," Roshan says, guiding her to one of the walls in the hopes of escaping the crowd. "Is something on your mind?"

She shrugs. "Nothing in particular. Just thinking."

"You tend to do that a lot."

"So do you."

"There is a lot to think about these days."

"Indeed," Kalanit replies. She pauses, and then, "Roshan?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think of-"

Before she can finish the thought, a figure moves out of the crowd before Kalanit can react, slamming directly into her. Kalanit yelps and stumbles backwards, her entire world spinning. A hand on her shoulder steadies her, and then tenses as Roshan sees who she ran into. Once Kalanit is done blinking stars out of her eyes, she realizes exactly why that's his reaction.

"Fucking watch it," Ryujin seethes, the Four boy's eyes burning into her own. "Someone like you should-"

"Jin," an unfamiliar voice chides, "remember there are sponsors around. You want to make a good impression, don't you?"

The intruder is obviously unwelcome even to Ryujin, who balls his hands into fists at his sides. "Right, Citrine. I would hate to taint your perfectly curated reputation."

One takes all of this in stride, her earrings glinting in the light as she tosses her hair behind one shoulder. "I would be more worried about your own." Her tone suggests this is a conversation they've had many times. But Citrine turns from him after a moment and then smiles saccharinely at Kalanit. "Better watch where you're going next time," Citrine tells her, not unkindly. "He doesn't take kindly to slights, whether intentional or not."

"My apologies, then."

Her words are directed at Citrine – Ryujin is long gone. The other girl laughs and waves her hand dismissively. "Don't bother. He'll get over it. Excellent score, by the way. Both of you."

"Thank you," Kalanit says, when she realizes Roshan doesn't intend to respond. "I'm sure you gave them a real show with your arrows."

There's a flash of intrigue in Citrine's eyes. "Indeed, though my environment was rather… limiting. I'm hopeful the Arena will play to my strengths."

Kalanit doesn't want to know what that means. "Best of luck to you."

The other girl is strangely sincere as she responds, "And you."

The two of them stay rooted in place until Citrine is well out of earshot. As soon as she's gone, Roshan lets out a quiet sigh.

"I don't like her," he declares. "She's dangerous."

"The gamemakers agree with you."

"It's more than that," Roshan says, and doesn't elaborate.

He doesn't need to. Kalanit understands. There's something simmering beneath the surface, some kind of ace up her sleeve that neither of them understand just yet. The gamemakers do, however, and every other tribute has to hope she doesn't get the chance to fully expand upon her abilities.

"Roshan," Kalanit says again.

"Yes?"

"What do you think about our allies?"

Unconsciously, his eyes seek them out, finding Kaiser and Vel still in the thickest part of the crowd. Velocity says something that makes Kaiser tilt his head back to laugh, golden hair falling in his face. Kalanit, however, keeps her gaze firmly on Roshan – who, for the first time since she's met him, looks close to smiling.

"I find them to be… acceptable. I think they are good additions to our group."

Kalanit raises an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

Roshan ponders her question a moment longer. "I think they offer many strengths to counteract our weaknesses. Together, we can-"

"Roshan."

He frowns at her. "What?"

"I think you should go dance."

He recoils at the suggestion. "I don't dance," he insists.

"I have a feeling someone would be willing to teach you."

When Roshan doesn't immediately get it, Kalanit stares meaningfully towards their allies – towards one ally in particular. She can barely hide her smile when Roshan's eyes widen.

"Kalanit," he says, tone measured, "you are meddling."

"I am not." She is most definitely lying through her teeth. "That would require me doing more than talking to you about it."

"Then why are they headed this way?"

"Oh," Kalanit says, pretending to think on it. "Probably because I waved at them when you weren't looking."

"Kalanit."

"Hello," she says, raising her voice as their allies draw closer. "Are you having fun?"

"Too much," Velocity says, breathless. She slumps against the wall and tries to fan her face with her hand. "I need a drink or something. Think they've got water here, or just a bunch of cocktails?" She pauses, and then all too quickly adds, "Which I am obviously not drinking."

"You could try the bar," Kaiser suggests. He looks particularly alive like this, soaking up the energy of the room, blue eyes alight with excitement. "I'm sure they've got everything you could think to ask for."

"I'll go with you," Kalanit volunteers, ignoring the look of betrayal she immediately receives from Roshan. "I could use a breather."

"Sure." Velocity steps away from the wall, magically less tired than she was a moment ago. She doesn't bother to keep the grin off her face. "We'll catch you two later?"

Roshan takes a step towards them. "I can go-"

Swiftly, Velocity darts past him and laces her fingers through Kalanit's. She's giggling, and Kalanit herself is finding it harder and harder to repress a smile. "Don't worry about it! We can take care of ourselves – you two have fun now!"

She doesn't give either of them a chance to argue. Kaiser just looks confused, but Roshan is glaring daggers at them. Kalanit waves the two of them goodbye, and then very quickly loses them in the crowd. Velocity is something of an expert when it comes to weaving between people, and all Kalanit can do is pray to keep up. When they pop out on the other side by the bar, Kalanit is the breathless one, head spinning all over again.

"You okay?" Velocity asks, letting go of her hand.

Kalanit nods and takes a moment to catch her breath. The two girls stand still for a moment, and then Velocity breaks down into a fit of giggles, and Kalanit can't help but grin broadly.

Despite the looming threat of the Games, despite the knowledge that everything at home is falling apart without her, despite her certainty that ruin will shortly follow, Kalanit has to admit to herself that she's… happy.

(She has to wonder how long that will last.)

This late in the day, the floor is silent. Interviews are over. Briar and Lynx have gone to bed. There's nothing standing between Kalanit and the Arena except for the long night ahead.

She wanders into the kitchen to fill a glass of water. It took ages to scrub off all the makeup and glitter she was wearing for her interview, as well as take down her hair. It's still damp, hanging down her back in loose curls. She feels a bit out of place, wandering the floor so aimlessly, with hardly a thought in her head to show for it. Kalanit is so used to thinking about everything that to think about nothing at all is… frightening.

The floor is quiet. Kalanit is all alone. For the first time since her name got rattled off for all of Panem to hear, she's… scared. In their nine years together, Rahamana never told her anything that could help right now. Kalanit has been left to fend for herself, and she's starting to think she's not up to the task.

The water has been running for several minutes by the time Kalanit remembers what she came in here to do. She fills up her cup, and then downs half of it in one go. When she sets down her glass, she realizes her hands are beginning to tremble.

(After all, at the end of the day, what can possibly save her? No matter how hard she tries to convince herself otherwise, Kalanit is desperately young and naive compared to the other tributes. She lacks their general life experience, their skills, their academia.

Kalanit is just… Kalanit. And without Rahamana by her side, guiding her through life, she's all alone.)

"Kalanit," a voice calls from the other room.

Maybe not totally alone.

"Roshan," she says as she steps into the room. "I thought you would be asleep by now."

"I thought the same about you."

"I guess we were both wrong."

"An uncommon occurrence. What has kept you up?"

It's an invitation to join him. Kalanit does, settling on the opposite side of the couch from him, and curling her legs up under her. She sighs, gaze fixed on the wall.

"What hasn't?" she admits. "The Games are tomorrow. I don't know if I'll ever be prepared."

"If you were, I would be greatly concerned. No one should be prepared for a spectacle such as this."

"What about the Careers?"

His mouth twists. "Looking at it logically, I can only assume there is a great deal of deceit woven into the very fabric of their training. They see it as a noble deed, a way to bring honor and glory to their District…"

Her hands clench into fists in her lap. "I see no honor and glory in the death of innocents."

"Careful, now," Roshan chides. "You never know who might be listening."

"I know," she says, shaking her head. "I just think… it's wrong. To win, you have to do more than just survive. And I…"

… I don't want to die.

"You want to go home though, do you not?"

"Of course I do."

Roshan falls silent for a long moment. Kalanit leans her head against the back of the couch. Her eyes fall on the clock on the mantle, watching as the hands slowly tick closer to midnight.

"Do you miss it?"

She doesn't have to ask to know what Roshan is referring to. Kalanit sighs quietly. "Yeah. Do you?"

"Of course." He pauses. "But I am glad I met you."

Kalanit startles. "Really?"

He nods once. "I find your presence… comforting. If we are going to die, then I'm glad I got to know you first."

"Same here." Kalanit offers him a shy smile. "Though I would prefer if it was under different circumstances."

"Better now than never at all, Kalanit. There is nothing we can do to change arriving here, but from now until the end… whenever that might be… I intend to be by your side."

And maybe it's the late hour, or maybe it's the way Kalanit feels her mother's absence more than normal these days, but she finds herself desperately missing the nickname Rahamana gave her.

"Lani," she gently corrects.

Roshan pauses, contemplative. "Lani," he repeats. "I have no acceptable nickname to give you in return."

"I can always come up with one."

"That is not necessary."

"Ro?" she tries, smiling as he makes a face. "I'll keep thinking on it."

"I look forward to whatever you come up with."

"It's getting late," she comments idly. Neither of them make a move to leave. Kalanit doesn't want to go to bed alone, and she suspects Roshan doesn't either.

"It would be wise to go to bed."

She hums. The couch is getting more comfortable by the moment. "It would."

"Lani," he says, then hesitates. "Are you… ready?"

It is not the question he means to ask. Kalanit is glad for that. "No," she answers honestly. "I do not believe I ever will be."

Roshan stands abruptly. Kalanit is so surprised that sits up, ready to follow, but he gestures for her to stay. "Wait here."

When he returns, he does so with a couple blankets in hand. He throws one over Kalanit's legs, and then settles back on the couch. When Kalanit squints at him, he nearly looks proud of himself.

"You don't need to stay all the way over there," Roshan says, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Unless you would prefer to."

She wouldn't. Kalanit slowly moves closer, until she's close enough to lean her head on his shoulder. She yawns, and every ounce of exhaustion from the past few weeks begins to take its toll all at once.

"Roshan," she mumbles, before she can forget.

"Hmm?"

"You had fun last night, didn't you?"

He hesitates. "I suppose so."

"You should do things for yourself more often."

She waits for his rebuttal – after all, Roshan does everything for himself. If he cannot rationalize every decision he makes, finding the optimal path at all times, then he disregards the option entirely.

"I know," Roshan says, tired. He does not say anything more.

Kalanit rests her head on his shoulder. The rest of the night looms before her, and all she can think about is that it's the only one she is guaranteed. To sleep feels like a waste of the time she has left, but to do anything else is a sure way to sabotage her chances.

She misses her mother. She misses her home, her life, her garden. She misses her own seemingly limitless potential. Her chest aches with a burden no thirteen year old should ever have to experience, and Kalanit knows that she isn't anywhere near the first, and she certainly won't be the last. She's been subjected to a beyond cruel fate, and no matter where she turns, she can find no way to escape it.

By this time tomorrow, Kalanit might be nothing more than a footnote at the end of someone else's story.

The steps of the house creak as Kalanit sneaks downstairs. She pauses on the landing, tilts her head to the side, and listens. Without the noise of her own footsteps disturbing the silence, she hears the leaky faucet in the hallway bathroom, the wind blowing through the boards covering a busted window, and the gentle snores of her uncle. The last of those remains steady and constant, a sign that Kalanit hasn't woken him up.

Kalanit takes in a steady breath, and continues her journey. The house looms around her, dark and silent, and Kalanit pays it no mind. This was once the home she shared with Rahamana, and now it is simply the place where she resides with Drystan. Things often break, or fall apart, or go missing, and Kalanit just tries to keep her chin up. Nothing in this house has any sentimental value to her – the true value is what lies outside.

Bathed in the moonlight, the garden seems to glow, and Kalanit sucks in a deep breath of fresh air. She shuts the door behind her as silently as she can, and then creeps out barefoot through the grass. Though winter has begun turning into spring, the night is still chilly, and Kalanit wishes she grabbed a jacket.

Upon first glance, the garden is exactly as she left it. Kalanit wanders slowly through the plants, taking care not to step on anything. The day before, she spent hours after school weeding, and her effort seems to have paid off. The only reason she didn't today is because she spent so long at the library trying to research what was getting into her garden.

But right now, everything looks… okay. Kalanit shivers and wraps her arms around herself. She's scared to head inside so soon – as soon as she turns her back, the weeds might creep in again, threatening to steal precious nutrients from the flowers that have flourished here for years and years.

Kalanit wanders deeper into the garden, into the heart of it all. Her eyes catch on every dark patch, worrying that in the light of day it'll prove to be a problem. When she was able to work in the garden with her mother, the whole place didn't seem quite so… overwhelming. She's thirteen, the sole caretaker of her mother's pride and joy, and when the weeds creep back in, when the vines sink into the trunks of trees, when the delicate flowers begin to wither from inadequate sunlight…

(Kalanit knows she can't do it. Not by herself. And that means every day, she's failing her mother more and more.)

In the center of the garden, Rahamana's tree continues to grow, proud and strong. Its shade provides a shelter for Kalanit on the days where she feels especially lonely, and during the nights where she can't sleep, she curls up at its roots. She can see it from her window as she reads a book, or from the path to her front door when she comes home. It's a comfort, one of the few Kalanit has these days.

Except… there's something different about it. Kalanit's feet stall as she takes in what appears to be a vine curling around the base of the tree, and though the darkness surrounding her muddles her vision, making it hard to tell the exact shade of the flowers beginning to bloom, Kalanit still recognizes it to be-

She freezes.

Purple flowers.

"No, no, no," Kalanit whispers. She lunges forward, struggling to rip the vines loose with her bare fingers. The plant is more resistant than she first thought, and Kalanit hisses as it rips into her skin. The sharp pain makes her eyes well up with tears, and she backs away from the tree – Rahamana's tree.

Throughout the district, nothing is as much of a death sentence as invasive species. Without anything to stave it off, this wisteria will choke the life out of anything it touches. Kalanit doesn't know how to get rid of it, not on her own. It'll spread, fast and deadly, to everything else in the garden.

It's inevitable. This is how the story will end: with the destruction of everything Kalanit holds dear.

She sinks to her knees, sobs wracking her small body. It's a hopeless endeavor, and Kalanit knows it. If she could only remember what Rahamana told her years ago, before she disappeared, then she could at least start fresh.

But now…

Now, all Kalanit can do is wait. Wait until there's nothing left for her here but ashes.

Rahamana would be so disappointed.

Kalanit has never felt so small before.

The back of her left arm still stings from where they put in the tracker. The dress she's wearing – green, of course – falls just below her knees. Her stylist merely shrugged his shoulders when she asked about shoes. She said goodbye to Roshan at least an hour ago, and now it's just Kalanit and her mentor.

Waiting.

(Waiting for a fast death? Waiting to see all of her allies die? Waiting for the untold horrors of the Arena? Kalanit's mind whirls with every new possibility. She's watched the Games before, as every child in Panem has, and her memory has retained every horrific detail.

This year, there won't be a screen to protect Kalanit any longer. There's nowhere to hide.

This is the sort of story Rahamana never told her before. Kalanit can't even begin to imagine how it will end.)

Her mentor, Briar, coughs. "Good luck, kid," they say. "Stick close to Roshan if you can."

"I know," Kalanit replies, voice soft. "He has a better chance than I do."

"With that attitude, yeah he does. Have a little faith in yourself."

Kalanit raises an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"Do I what? Have faith in you?"

"Yes."

Briar takes a moment to think about this. "You've cried a lot less than any other thirteen year old I've worked with before. Which isn't high praise, but it says a lot more than you'd think. It tells me you're determined. You're thinking. You're not going to go into the Arena and lay down to take whatever it throws at you."

"No one has ever won so young," Kalanit counters.

"You wanna know what I think? You're thinking too much about winning. That's what the Careers do. But people like us? We keep our eyes focused on tomorrow. You think about surviving just one more day, outlasting just one more person, and that'll carry you farther than you'd think."

"I'm scared," Kalanit admits aloud. Her fingers are twisted into the fabric of her skirt so tightly that her knuckles have turned white.

"Good," Briar says. "Fear keeps you alive. And no matter what they say, everyone else is scared, too."

Everything else is a blur. It's hard for Kalanit to breathe as she steps onto the plate, and when the tube closes around her, she half expects to die right there. Instead, the surface under her feet begins to move up, and Kalanit stumbles, barely managing to remain standing.

Strangely, when Kalanit reaches the surface, there is no sunlight to blind her. Stone walls surround her on three sides, each displaying an intricate tapestry, and massive windows cover the fourth wall. The ceiling is high above her head, gilded chandeliers hanging throughout, and the cornucopia lies in the middle of the massive room, blocking her line of sight. The three walls each have a door, limiting her escape options. If she didn't have allies to meet up with, then she would turn and run straight out the door behind her.

Her allies.

(The countdown begins.)

Three people to her left is Velocity, eyes narrowed in determination. Her dress is a rich purple, and the skirt falls down to her ankles. For half a second, Kalanit is glad that the color is so eye-catching, and then it makes her stomach twist with worry. Velocity looks her way and waves.

(... 46, 45, 44…)

On her right, six people between them, is Kaiser. His pants are a vivid green, and his shirt is a crisp white. He's taken off his tie – also green – and wrapped it around his left hand a few times. His mouth is pulled down into a frown, but when he catches Kalanit's eye, he winks. When her responding expression isn't any less relieved, he tilts his head to the right – towards the area behind the cornucopia Kalanit cannot see.

Ah. Of course Roshan would be as far away as possible. Just her luck.

(... 30, 29, 28…)

Kalanit takes in a deep breath to calm herself, tries to put together the pieces. The fancy clothes, the stone walls, the grandeur of the decor… if Kalanit had to guess, this is a castle, one she'd read about in a storybook.

This is all just another story, after all. One Kalanit doesn't know the ending of.

(... 17, 16, 15…)

There's no time to keep thinking about it, not unless Kalanit wants to end up dead. She positions her feet to angle towards Velocity, and prays that she won't be an easy target. Kalanit wants to be reunited with Rahamana, but not so soon.

She's not ready for anything that awaits her. Lani is just Lani, after all.

(What if she could've been more?)

June 15, 20:40

Night has almost fallen.

In the next few minutes, the anthem will play. All nine deaths will flash across the sky, and Kalanit will have to stare into every face and know that they're dead and she is still alive. She remembers all of their names. And, beyond a few details, she doesn't know anything more.

(She'll never get the chance to.)

Velocity's hand is interlocked with hers, just like it has been since the bloodbath. Screams ring in Kalanit's ears, even now, hours later. She tucks her knees a little closer to her chest.

(The gong rings, and Kalanit is immediately caught off guard. She loses precious time by faltering, even though she was so ready a moment ago. She's acutely aware that every second she loses is another second she'll never get back.

She keeps her eyes firmly on Velocity, who has darted forward to grab a backpack. She's fast, faster than Kalanit remembers, and she finds that she's going closer to the cornucopia than she intended.)

"My side of the hallway was all clear," Kaiser says, appearing in the opening of the alcove. "When Roshan comes back, we should move into a room so we aren't cornered."

Kalanit nearly argues that they'll be cornered either way, but she can concede that a narrow, cramped space isn't exactly ideal for escaping death. It is, however, something of a comfort. This is the most secure Kalanit has felt in the hours she's spent in the Arena, despite the tense silence between her and Velocity.

"Should we move now?" Velocity asks. "If we move the bed-"

"We shouldn't move the furniture." Kaiser swiftly cuts her off. "I don't want any sign that we were here, and I especially don't want to make more noise than necessary. The last thing we need is a reason to bring the Careers our way."

Kalanit shudders at the thought.

(Velocity grips her hand tightly, eyes wide. "Why did you follow me?" she hisses.

Kalanit doesn't know what to say in response, so she merely grips Velocity's hand tighter. The other girl is searching for their other allies, but Kalanit's gaze snags on a familiar face.

Rigid posture. Blonde hair. Lifted chin. Citrine stands several feet away, an arrow nocked in her bow. She doesn't see Kalanit or Velocity, tracking someone else. Kalanit watches, morbidly fascinated, as Citrine's lips curl up into a smile.)

"Come on." Velocity tugs Kalanit to her feet. "We can get comfortable before Roshan comes back."

"He'll want first watch," Kaiser says. "I want second."

"What about us?" Velocity asks. "We can take one."

Kaiser hesitates. "We'll see. You should try to get some rest tonight. We'll see what tomorrow brings once we've gotten the chance to explore more."

Kalanit has a bad feeling about this. She can't pinpoint exactly why – though, to be fair, nothing about the situation is exactly optimal. She doesn't like that they're currently indoors. She doesn't like that she has no clue where any other tributes are. She doesn't like the sensation of something settling in the pit of her stomach, left to rot unless Kalanit can find a way to get rid of it.

Before they can move, however, the anthem begins to play.

Kalanit cannot bring herself to look away. She knows that somewhere, a couple floors away, blood still stains the marble floor and stone walls, but she didn't see any of it. Her mind whirls with the endless possibilities – whose throat did Citrine's arrows slice through? Whose stomach did Myron's gilded daggers pierce? Who faced the relentless onslaught of Ryujin's anger and frustration at the world?

She could keep going, but the first face appears before her, drawing a gasp from Velocity and a quiet sigh of relief from Kaiser. Myron from One, his peaceful smile illuminating the sky. He was something of a mediator to the rest, so Kalanit cannot fathom what happened to him. Maybe it was Ryujin, whom Kalanit thinks could lash out at anyone, or maybe someone from the other outer district alliance. Whatever the case, most would consider the downfall of a Career so early to be a good thing.

Next is Curie from Three, whose shy demeanor and youth likely did her no favors. Kaiser can't seem to look at her face for long. Then Maude and Jaime from Five, who Kalanit never saw without their hands entwined. She wonders if they faced death the same way. Then one of the Eights – Kente. She wouldn't be surprised if Moire was the one that did it. They were always at each other's throats anyway. Barley from Nine, always quick to offer a smile and a story.

(They all had lives, cut terribly short. Kalanit cannot help but think it's not fair.

But, of course, she knows better than to say such a thing out loud.)

Kalanit half expects one of the last ones to be Aster, but she's proven wrong when the sky displays Peony instead. Only a year older than Kalanit herself, and likely the youngest of the bloodbath deaths. She largely kept to herself throughout training, continuously returning to the camouflage station to paint the flowers she was named after. She never talked, not even during her interview, and it's anyone's guess as to why.

And then… mmm. Only one left, and Kalanit knows who it is. She turns her head to the side and scratches at her ankle. After a moment, she realizes that Roshan has finally returned. He watches the end of the anthem play out, expression unreadable.

"Sixteen left," Roshan says flatly. "Fifteen to go."

Even Kaiser is shaken – a feat Kalanit didn't know was possible. "Yeah," he mutters, leaning his head against the wall.

Kalanit takes in a breath. She looks out the window, at the ground below, at the trees and the flowers and the world that looks so very far away. She tries not to cry.

(Something cold wraps around her ankle. Kalanit's hand is torn from Velocity's, and she stumbles, nearly tumbling to the ground. A strong arm catches her, but Kalanit barely notices. Her gaze is stuck on the boy from Twelve, his bloodied hand leaving an imprint on her skin.

"Please," Ephai rasps. When he coughs, blood splatters on the ground. "Please, you have to-"

He's not given the chance to finish. Though Kalanit gets pushed back, another body blocking her view, she still hears the telltale slice of a knife and the softest sigh of relief.

Kalanit's hands are trembling when Velocity grabs one again. Her feet are firmly rooted in place. Roshan turns to face her, and Kalanit pretends not to see the blood staining the cuff of his sleeve.

"We have to go,-)

"-Lani?"

She turns towards the voice. Roshan is watching her, expression softer than normal, brows wrinkled with concern. "Hm?"

"I asked if you were okay," he says, keeping his voice hushed.

"I am alive," she replies.

It does not answer his question. Maybe that in itself is an answer.

June 16, 09:35

"Do you feel any different?" Velocity asks, bouncing on her toes as they walk. "Another year older? Another year wiser?"

"No. I have never understood the purpose of celebrating birthdays. The passage of time will continue despite any one person's relevance. I am the same now as I was yesterday, and the day before that, and I suspect I will be the same tomorrow, should I live to see it."

Velocity frowns at Roshan petulantly. "But you're nineteen now," she says, like that's supposed to change his answer. "You've aged out of the Games."

"And yet I am still in them," he replies. "It does not change my current situation."

Kaiser loops an arm through Roshan's. He grins widely, not noticing the way Roshan stiffens. "Nah, but it changes ours. We're traveling with an old man now. What does the senior of our group want to do today?"

"Well," Roshan says slowly, "I suppose I would like to avoid dying."

"That's a given. C'mon though, you can't expect us to let you spend the whole day brooding like normal."

"I do not brood-"

"If you don't pick, then we'll pick for you." The way Kaiser says it, it's almost a threat. He waggles his brows. "Don't you wanna have some fun?"

Roshan gives Kalanit a look that she interprets to mean she is supposed to commiserate with him. Instead, she smiles.

"Happy birthday," she says, the first of the day. "I think we could all use some fun."

Now that Roshan realizes he is truly alone in his endeavor to ignore the importance of the day, he sighs and relents. "I have finished my book."

"Surely there's a library in here. It's a castle, right? Castles should always have libraries." Kaiser rubs his chin thoughtfully. "I would put a library in a castle."

Velocity, on the other hand, looks downright dismayed. "We're going to spend the whole day hunting for a library?"

"It's all in the spirit of adventure," Kaiser proclaims. "It's about the journey, not the destination."

She gives him a filthy look. "You're talking out of your ass now."

Kaiser sticks his tongue out at her, and Velocity returns the gesture with a more vulgar one of her own. Kaiser gasps, affronted, and lunges at her. Roshan steps out of the way, leaving the two of them to their own devices.

"What do you think?" Roshan asks her, gaze still focused on their allies to make sure no one gets hurt.

"I don't think it's up to me."

He sighs. "A library would be nice," he admits wistfully.

"And," Kalanit adds, "we should explore now, while everyone else is still gathering their bearings. If we wait too long, then the Careers will adjust to their surroundings and learn how to use it against us."

"Clearly a concerning outcome. You are right, of course. Finding a library is the least of my concerns for the day, but it serves as an excuse to explore."

"And you will have fun along the way," she insists. "Right?"

Roshan takes a moment to frown at her. When she frowns back, clearly not giving up, he sighs. "I will try to have fun."

And then, he falls silent. There is a strange look crossing Roshan's face, like there's something he's figuring out how to say aloud. Based on what happened yesterday, and the way he's been strangely distant today, Kalanit can guess what he's thinking about.

The blood is slick under her hands, as if she was the one that drove the knife in herself. Kalanit clenches her teeth so hard that her jaw hurts. She can't quite look at Roshan anymore.

"I am sorry," he says, so quietly that Kalanit almost thinks she imagined it. "I did not… with you right there, I did not want to…"

"I know," she whispers. "I know."

"I could not risk anything happening. That is something I will have to live with."

I could not risk anything happening to you, he is saying. Kalanit breathes out slowly.

"Would you do it again?"

"I- what?"

"If you had to go back," Kalanit says carefully, "and make a different choice, would you?"

His silence is so long that it says plenty. When Roshan speaks again, his voice is hushed and almost mournful. "No. I would not change my actions. I only wish I wasn't put in the position where I found them necessary."

"My wish is much the same."

They do not talk about Ephai again. Even though he is never openly acknowledged, Kalanit can feel his presence taking root between them, as damning as the wisteria back home. His blood seeps into the stone, and Kalanit knows for sure that one way or another, this Arena will take Roshan from her.

June 17, 03:26

Kalanit does not know why she woke up. She opens her eyes to darkness surrounding her, and her eyes adjust ever-so-slowly to the library.

Her back is to a shelf of books, and in front of her is Velocity, who is sleeping peacefully. They have yet to be factored into the shifts that Kaiser and Roshan insist on taking throughout the night. As Kalanit watches Velocity sleep, however, she understands why. There's something reassuring about the way the other girl looks so at ease, without a care in the world.

Towards the front of the shelf is… Kalanit squints, trying to make out the silhouette. She thinks it's Kaiser, but that wouldn't make any sense. By all her calculations, he should be asleep right now.

Sure enough, there's Roshan, stirring from where he was fast asleep. He jolts, one hand skimming Kalanit's blanket as if to make sure she's still there. She tries not to alert him that she's awake.

After checking on Velocity, Roshan makes his way up to Kaiser, taking care to muffle his movements as best he can. They're deafeningly loud in the empty library, but Kalanit knows that if she was still asleep, she'd never notice.

"You were supposed to wake me up an hour ago," Roshan whispers accusingly.

Kaiser doesn't flinch. He shifts to the side, giving Roshan room to sit next to him. While Roshan hesitates a little longer than necessary, he eventually concedes, but takes care to keep his distance.

"Consider it my birthday gift to you. Not like there's much else I can offer."

Kalanit can perfectly imagine Roshan's frown in the dark. "I did not ask for anything. And besides, a better gift would be a well-rested and properly prepared ally."

Kaiser scoffs. "I can't do anything right with you," he mutters. "My apologies for letting you get an extra hour of sleep. I'll take care to avoid that outcome in the future." There's a shuffle as he stands, and then a pause. "Roshan?"

"You can make it up to me by keeping me company for a short while."

"I- you want me to make it up to you?"

"Good company is hard to come by these days."

"You've got Kalanit."

A pause. "I do not wish to disturb her more than I already have."

"Or Velocity-"

"If I sought their company, I would've asked one of them. Instead, I asked you. Indulge me for a moment."

It is not a question. Kaiser sits back down.

Strangely, they do not talk at all for several minutes, long enough that Kalanit's eyelids grow heavy. She struggles to remain awake just a little longer – there's something she's missing.

"Why are you doing this?" Kaiser finally asks.

"Doing what?"

"Doing… this." Kaiser gestures wildly with his hands.

"I… am afraid I do not understand what you mean."

"God," he breathes. There's another pause. When he speaks again, Kaiser's voice is tinged with defeat. "The party, remember?"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I am sorry."

"You- huh? What are you sorry for?"

"You were about to apologize to me. I did not want to give you the chance, as I feel that I am the one who owes you an apology."

"What the hell do you have to apologize for? I'm the one that got hopelessly drunk, and-" Kaiser doesn't finish his sentence. Kalanit imagines he is so exasperated that he buries his head in his hands.

"Did your state of inebriation affect your desires, or how you chose to act on them?"

Kaiser chuckles weakly. "The latter, I guess? I'm not normally so…"

"Rash?"

"Yeah."

Roshan hums. "You surprised me."

"I know. I could tell. I'm still sorry."

"I am saying you do not need to be."

"You're insufferable," Kaiser mutters. Somehow, Kalanit doesn't think he means it.

Next to her, Velocity rolls over in her sleep, and the sound startles the others into silence. Kalanit tries to fight off her own weariness, full of far more questions than answers, but the dark tendrils of sleep pull her close before she can ever find what she's looking for.

June 18, 13:46

The hours slip by, faster than Kalanit expected. She does not find herself bored, even though they haven't seen any other tributes in what feels like forever. Kalanit can't decide if that's a good or bad thing – they live to see another day, but grow endlessly complacent.

Today they're exploring a long hallway of bedrooms, each one grander than the last. Kalanit has never been materialistic, but she finds herself skimming her hands over the silk bedspreads, admiring the gilded paintings on the walls, and staring wistfully out the stained glass windows. She presses her cheek against the cool stone wall and breathes in steadily. She is still alive. Things are okay.

Complacent is maybe the wrong word. Careless is a better one. Kalanit turns to find herself alone in the room. She tilts her head to the side, listening carefully for the presence of her allies, and instead hears the signal they set up – five rhythmic taps against a suit of armor.

Danger.

Despite the warning, Kalanit creeps closer to the door. She hears voices now, and wonders how she didn't hear them before. They're somewhere down the hallway, and as Kalanit listens, she realizes they're getting closer.

She's frozen. There's nothing Kalanit can do but wait here. There's nowhere to run, not in this enclosed space. If she tried, it would lead to certain death.

Across the hall, something moves, and Kalanit looks up to see Roshan, his eyes wide. Hide, he's saying. Kalanit wants nothing more than to run across the hall, knowing she'd be infinitely safer with him, but she knows doing so would reveal their location and doom them all.

There aren't many options in the room. Kalanit settles for the bed, which she barely manages to crawl under. The sheets hang low enough that no one can see her unless they get down on the ground. It's the best chance she's got.

(And… it's dark. Kalanit curls up as small as she can get, pressed against the wall, arms wrapped around herself. Between the Capitol and this Arena, she hasn't been outside in days.

She's starting to worry that she'll die here, surrounded by stone walls and lit torches. She'll never feel the warmth of the sun on her face again.)

Whoever is coming, they aren't subtle. One of them is making more than enough noise for the both of them, doing a cursory sweep of every room in the hall. Kalanit hears their footsteps draw closer, then sees them outside the door, and then…

"Fuck," Ryujin swears loudly. "Nothing here either."

His ally opens the closet door, kicking at the pile of bedsheets with their foot. "Maybe if you would shut the hell up for once, they wouldn't get the chance to run. I swear I heard something."

"Yeah, yeah. Those suits of armor are mutts anyway. Maybe we're just running straight into a trap."

"Or maybe someone is actually here," the girl says, abandoning her mission to turn and face Ryujin. "Did you consider that?"

"What, are you gonna lecture me?"

"I know what you did."

The footsteps stop abruptly.

Kalanit can hardly breathe. One of them stands close enough that she could reach out and touch their shoe. All the would have to do is look down, and they'd see her, completely defenseless.

(Ephai's bloodied hand grasps her foot again.)

"I don't know what you're talking about, Kosava," Ryujin says tightly.

"You haven't liked Myron since the start. Any of us, really. Now I'm stuck babysitting so the others can do their part."

"'The others.' Citrine's the only one doing anything anyway."

"Yeah, and it's working. She got two just yesterday. If you would quit bitching loud enough for every tribute in a fifty foot radius to hear, we'd be in a similar position."

Ryujin scoffs and kicks the bedframe. "Fucking whatever. You saw the state the library was in. There's definitely someone in this area."

"Or there was."

"You know, I didn't fucking ask for you to come with me."

"And I didn't ask to ally with a child with a shitty attitude and half a brain. You really wanna get into it now?"

"You keep stalling. Scared you'll lose?"

Kosava laughs at his audacity. "I think I could take a half-trained sixteen year old brat."

"Myron couldn't."

"You didn't give him the chance to fight back."

"You think I'll let you?"

"Listen, kid." Kosava has dropped all niceties. Kalanit is acutely aware of the fact that two trained killers are within inches of her. She clenches her trembling hands into fists and prays she doesn't make a noise. "I think it would be a shame for me to kill a useful asset so early in the game, so why don't you shut the hell up and keep moving."

"... Fine," Ryujin bites out. Something must've made him back down, and Kalanit can't imagine what. "I'll play nice so Citrine can keep her spotlight."

"Good boy," Kosava croons, shoving past him to exit the room. "Now let's keep fucking moving."

Ryujin stays still long enough that Kalanit fears he'll explore the room, stumble across her, and that'll be the end. She won't get the chance to say goodbye to her friends, she'll never see her garden again, and she'll never know what happened to Rahamana. She closes her eyes so tightly that it hurts. Knowing what's coming would only make it harder.

And then, she hears footsteps leave. The talking doesn't return. Kalanit doesn't know how long she stays in the same place, or when tears begin to track down her face. She can hardly breathe, hardly move.

Kalanit Al-Amin does not want to die. Not here, and certainly not so alone.

Minutes pass – maybe hours. Kalanit can't be sure. A hand touches her arm, and Kalanit recoils, lashing out wildly in an attempt to get away. A strangled sob claws its way out of her throat in lieu of a scream.

(When she is brave enough to ask Kaiser about it later, he can't quite meet her eye. You begged, he finally says. It's like you couldn't hear us. You said please until your voice broke, and even when you opened your eyes, it's like you didn't recognize us.)

"Lani," a voice says insistently.

Roshan is looking at her, hand outstretched, brows pinched with worry. He doesn't move any closer, doesn't say anything more. He just waits for her to remember he's her ally, her friend, that he'd never hurt her. Kalanit cautiously reaches for his hand, letting him coax her out of her hiding spot.

She's trembling so violently that the world spins before her, and Kalanit reaches out for the one source of stability she's found. She throws herself into Roshan's arms, ducking her head into his neck. Roshan pauses, briefly taken aback, and then wraps his arms around her tightly.

"I'm sorry," he is saying, again and again. "I'm sorry, I'm here, you're okay."

Kalanit doesn't feel okay, but she doesn't have it in her to say anything back.

June 19, 14:29

The consensus is easy to reach: they need to leave the castle.

Kalanit longs for the sensation of the sun on her face, cool grass beneath her feet, and wind blowing through her hair. The open woods feel so much safer than the enclosed corridors she finds herself in now. There are places to run, not just hide, and no Careers have set up camp out there.

They've navigated enough of the castle by now that finding the exit is easy, if a little tedious. Kalanit doesn't mind the walk, but Velocity complained enough that she now smugly finds herself being carried on Kaiser's back. Though he makes sure to loudly proclaim his reluctance every few minutes, he hasn't actually offered to put her down.

Kalanit smiles faintly. She's glad everyone gets along so well. Even Roshan and Kaiser have managed to fix… whatever was going on with them.

(Everything is… okay. The events of yesterday are nothing more than a bad memory. They'll leave the castle and brave the forest, and Kalanit will be able to pretend it never happened at all.)

Wherever the Careers are now, they're not at the Cornucopia. The whole room is frightfully empty, scrubbed completely clean. Kalanit tries not to look too hard.

"Are you nervous?" Roshan asks beside her.

"A little. We haven't left the castle yet. This is completely uncharted territory."

"A very natural response, then."

"Do you feel the same way?"

"Yes," he admits without hesitation. "But a forest, even one manufactured by the Capitol, is a relief. It's… almost like home."

"Almost," Kalanit echoes.

There is a hollow sensation in her chest that she can't escape. Kalanit tries to smile, several seconds too late, and she can tell Roshan isn't buying it.

Velocity squirms down from Kaiser's back and is the first to reach the doors outside. She throws one open, eyes sparkling as she looks back at the rest of them. "I'll race you to the forest," she challenges.

She takes off without giving anyone else a chance to react. Kaiser gapes at the empty doorway, yelling, "You're a goddamn cheater!"

"At least I'm not a loser!" Velocity calls back.

Usually, Kaiser is quick to rise to Velocity's challenges. This time, he waits for Roshan to reach him, a soft smile playing across his features. Kalanit brushes past both of them, eager to get outside.

It's brighter than she remembered. Kalanit instantly squints in the harsh light. In front of her, Velocity has run far enough to be in the sunlight, laughing warmly. There is a noticeable absence of a breeze, and of the quiet ambience of wildlife, but Kalanit finds that she doesn't care. The castle is a shadow at her back, and the forest before her is a promise of something new. Kalanit smiles.

Velocity smiles and tilts her head back, spinning in a circle. Her choppy purple dress flares out, and Kalanit watches, mystified.

Kalanit sucks in a breath. It'll only take a few minutes for them to cross into the forest, and from there… Kalanit can almost imagine walking straight into her own backyard. It's so close that her chest aches, and she has to shove the thought aside.

Then, Kalanit hears something. She pauses, recognizing it as a faint whistle, and the noise strikes her as wrong. She opens her mouth to call out to Velocity.

The arrow slices through Velocity's throat before she can try.

Someone screams. Kalanit thinks it's Kaiser, who lunges forward, but he's already far too late. Roshan catches his arm, trying to pull him back to safety.

Safety. Kalanit nearly laughs at the thought. How stupid of her to ever be lulled into a sense of security.

She takes a step forward. If she ignores the blood spilling from Velocity's neck, soaking into the ground, staining her dress, then the other girl might just be sleeping. Kalanit can still wake her up. She looks so peaceful like this, just like every other night they've spent together.

"Vel!" she croaks. Another step forward. "Vel, we have to-"

The only response is the sound of a cannon.

Roshan tugs her back harshly, just in time for another arrow to thud into the ground where she was standing. His grip is tight enough to be uncomfortable, but Kalanit has no fight left in her. She can't tear her gaze away from Velocity.

Get up, she pleads, even as tears sting her eyes. Come back. Don't leave us.

Velocity doesn't respond. Her faint smile chases Kalanit all the way back into the castle, and slips into her dreams that night. Kalanit wakes up in the dark to tearstained cheeks and tightly clenched fists. She tells herself that it was only a dream, that Velocity will return soon enough.

(Kalanit isn't stupid. She knows that will never happen. But it's the only sentiment that soothes her enough to fall back asleep.)

June 20, 23:42

Time passes faster now. It slips through her fingers like water. Kalanit is aware that she's wasting precious minutes of her life. The hours pass by in a blur. They visit the library, the bedrooms, she sleeps. No one talks. There isn't anything to say.

It's been almost a week in the Arena. Kalanit feels like it's been lifetimes. She lays awake without moving, eyes fixed on the ceiling above. She is too scared to look at the empty space beside her.

Roshan took the first shift tonight. Kaiser didn't have it in him to argue, but Kalanit heard him toss and turn for ages. Eventually, he sighs and gets up, going over to where Roshan is sitting.

"You look exhausted," Kaiser whispers. "You need to sleep, too."

"It's okay. I would rather stay up for a while."

"You said that last night too. You need sleep. Let me take over."

"I am fine."

"Fuck you, no you're not."

Roshan pauses. "I… am adequate considering the situation."

"You're so full of shit."

"I'm not sure what you want me to say."

"That you're sad, maybe? That you care even a little?"

"You are unfairly taking this out on me. You have no idea how I feel."

"Well? Enlighten me, then."

There's a silence, long enough that Kalanit isn't sure Roshan will answer. "I feel like… there are many things I could've done differently to prevent this outcome. But I cannot change the past, so tormenting myself with hypotheticals like you're doing is useless."

"… How did you know?"

"I know you."

Kaiser makes a strangled noise. "I should've chased after her."

"Then you would be dead as well."

"I just… It was so fast. I don't know how it happened."

"Citrine."

Kaiser jumps, head whipping around to squint at Kalanit. Beside him, Roshan hums. "Lani? You're awake?"

"It was Citrine," she insists.

"You saw her?"

"No. But I saw her shoot. She got an eleven. The… the other Careers are wandering the Arena while she picks people off from up high. It's her, I know it."

Roshan ponders this for a moment. "It would fit," he admits. "She keeps everyone contained where they are now — in the castle or the forest — and her allies roam free."

"Not all of them," Kalanit whispers. "Some stay to protect her."

"Naturally. She's made herself the most valuable member of their alliance with that strategy. Though…"

"They don't all like it." Kalanit can perfectly imagine Ryujin's sneer, though she has yet to see it displayed in the sky.

"Do we have to talk about the people that killed Vel?" Kaiser snaps.

"Sorry," Kalanit replies meekly. "I thought an answer would help."

"I…" Kaiser trails off. "Can I just… take this shift? Please?"

"Wake me up when you're ready to switch out," Roshan says. He pauses, and then says something too quietly for Kalanit to hear.

Roshan moves back towards Kalanit, pauses, and then slides into the place where Velocity used to be. Kalanit finds herself instantly relaxing. She moves closer, comforted by the presence of someone alive and not just the clamor of ghosts in her head.

(This is the closest Kalanit will ever come to safe in the Arena.)

There's a heavy sigh above her. "I'm sorry," Roshan murmurs.

Kalanit doesn't need to ask him what he's sorry for.

June 21, 15:04

"I don't get it," Kaiser says, furrowing his brow. "This doesn't make any sense."

What doesn't make sense to Kalanit is why they've been circling these same hallways all day. She understands that Roshan and Kaiser feel safest when they're on the move, but Kalanit is beginning to think she might go a little insane like this.

"What doesn't make sense?" Roshan asks.

"The layout of this area. It's… the spacing. There should be more somewhere."

"I… don't understand."

"Like maybe there's a hidden room?" Kalanit's mind whirls with possibilities. "We could try to find it."

"Yeah, I think there's… like a corridor or a staircase or something. Maybe it's just a passageway for the gamemakers to use, but maybe it's not. Either way, I want to try and find it."

"How do you know it exists?" Roshan presses a hand against the wall curiously.

"God, if I had something to write on I'd show you. The way this area is set up, the rooms are smaller than the hallway would lead you to think. The only explanation is that there's some kind of dead space – if it was any bigger, I'd guess a room, but I think it's a passageway. Which, I guess that could lead to a room, or maybe it's a way to navigate the Arena without-" he cuts himself off abruptly.

"I think it's worth trying to explore," Kalanit says, filling the silence. "Any good castle has its secrets, right?"

Roshan blinks. "Are the suits of armor that come alive at night not enough?"

"That's not the fun kind of secret."

"I suppose that is fair."

The search takes only a couple hours – far fewer than Kalanit expected. Since she's by far the smallest of the group, she got the immense honor of crawling into all the tiniest places. Kalanit is covered in dust by the end of it, but she finds a panel on the floor of a closet that, when pressed down, opens the back wall. A long hallway stretches before them, and Kalanit waves the others over to share her discovery.

"Shit," Kaiser breathes, squinting down the torchlit tunnel. "Something is actually here."

"Very nice work, both of you," Roshan says. "Shall we go?"

The others set off without a second thought, but Kalanit hesitates. She doesn't want them to get followed, but she also doesn't want to end up trapped when they don't know where they're headed. She darts out to snag a book off the nightstand, and shoves that into the doorway to prevent it from fully closing.

The tunnel is long and dark, and Kalanit is grateful for the sparse torches lighting their way. She curiously reaches up to touch one, and quickly yanks her hand back when she feels the very real warmth. There's not much talking as they go – there hasn't been, not since Velocity – but Kalanit feels oddly at peace.

When they reach the end of the hallway, the room is so bright that Kalanit squints and shields her eyes with a hand. It takes her several moments to adjust, and when she does, she gasps.

What they've discovered is less of a room and more of a greenhouse. Kalanit is surrounded on almost all sides by windows and greenery, more than she's seen since she left Seven. She briefly worries that it's fake, another Capitol trick, but when she kneels down in front of a cluster of daisies, their scent is so familiar that Kalanit could cry.

"A garden," she whispers. "It's a secret garden."

"Fascinating." Roshan tilts his head back, examining the sky above. "Do you recognize any of these plants?"

She nods excitedly. "Almost every single one. There's everything from medicinal herbs to poisons to harmless flowers. None of them are labeled, and I don't even recognize half of these from the edible plants station during training."

"So you don't recognize them?"

"No, I do. I know all of these. But others might not."

Several feet away, Kaiser whistles lowly. "I've never seen so many plants in one place," he admits. "Three isn't exactly uh… a green district."

"Isn't it lovely?" Kalanit smooths her hands over the daisies, watching as they bend gracefully and spring back. She longs to pick one, to keep it with her, but she has no way to sustain it. Odds are, it won't even live as long as her.

"Yeah," he admits. "I wish we could stay."

"It wouldn't be wise to close ourselves off. We'd be asking for trouble."

"A place like this is meant to be an oasis, or maybe offer assistance if you know where to look for it. We should spend the night, and then head out in the morning." Roshan waits for them to agree.

Kalanit sighs sadly. "That sounds fine to me."

"I'm getting sleep now," Kaiser says. The sun hasn't gone down yet. "Wake me when you're ready to trade off."

He doesn't wait for a response, instead following the path around a bend and disappearing just out of sight. Kalanit stares at the place where he used to stand for several minutes. With every hour that passes, he slips further and further away.

Though she wants to explore more of the garden, Kalanit finds herself sitting in the dirt, watching the world outside. The glass shields her from any harm. Kalanit watches the sunset, the colors so vivid that she wonders if it's even real. Her chest aches with the thought that it isn't – that she's fully closed off from the world, never to rejoin it. She'll die here, shut away, in a cage she can never escape.

(Outside, a wolf howls. Screams follow. A cannon rings. The moon begins to rise, and Kalanit does not turn to see it.)

There's a hand extended in front of her, and Kalanit accepts it before she registers who it is – Roshan, of course, and he gently helps her to her feet. He does not let go of her hand, and instead leads her over to a tree. Not a willow, but a poplar. Kalanit glances up at him curiously.

"You have been quiet today," he says.

"I've been thinking."

"What about?"

She swallows. "My garden back home. I worry it will all be gone-" Kalanit cuts herself off. It will be gone regardless. She will not make it back home at all, which she supposes could be a kindness, to avoid seeing her garden face its inevitable ruin.

(Rahamana would be so disappointed.)

"Is there not someone to take care of it?"

No. "The wisteria," she manages. "It's spreading. I can't kill it fast enough. It's taking everything – the flowers, my- my mother's tree."

He nods. "Even a fire cannot scorch the roots."

"No. It's hopeless."

Roshan runs his hand along one of the branches. And then, he smiles, so gently that Kalanit's breath catches. "Do you know how to propagate a plant from a cutting?"

Kalanit's eyes grow misty, and she ducks her head. "I learned once. But I don't remember how."

"Hmm." Roshan carefully brings out his knife, eyeing the tree before them. "I'm no teacher, but I will do my best to show you."

June 22, 18:53

It happened so fast.

Kalanit cannot remember much about the day, except that it was like every other. They explored, their resources dwindled, they moved about in relative silence. She can't say there was anything of note, or anything that should've caught her attention.

(Now, Kalanit knows better. Some things are simply unavoidable. She's seen in enough recaps that their paths almost crossed for days.

It was inevitable. And even if it wasn't, Kalanit can't change what comes next.)

It's near dark as they try to find a place to settle for the night. So they've found a hallway that looks empty, and Roshan takes the lead from there, as he always does. He scans one room while Kaiser checks the other, and Kalanit lingers in the hallway to keep watch. She finds herself humming quietly, hands behind her back, mind drifting away.

Kalanit finds herself missing the garden – she could've laid there for ages and simply never gotten up. There was a certain comfort in falling asleep under the shade of a tree once more, of waking up to the sun shining in her face. But she also understands that in the Arena, good things are never meant to last, and when she looked around that morning, everything looked a little… wilted.

Maybe it's for the best that they left. Kalanit couldn't stand to see another dying garden.

(Part of her wishes she had kept a flower from it, though. It'll die, but Kalanit will soon follow. Its life would be fleeting, but it would be hers. There are so few things Kalanit can take comfort in here.)

There's a crash from one of the rooms, and Kalanit startles. She takes a step forward, slightly disoriented, and hears a scuffle, and then a cry of pain. Kalanit freezes, and by the time she convinces her feet to move again, there's a blur and someone rams straight into her.

Kalanit hits the ground hard, head spinning. A hand presses against her shoulder, trying to keep her still, and Kalanit fights wildly, a cornered animal. A knife glints overhead, and she's barely able to move her head out of the way. Her cheek stings, and Kalanit whimpers.

It's a boy – Taro, she thinks – and his dark eyes are just as scared as her own. But he doesn't get up, and his fear is soon overshadowed by determination. His next hit grazes her left shoulder, and then cuts off a segment of hair. She lashes out, trying to grab his wrist, and even though she's quickly shaken off, she manages to stall him long enough that someone else shoves them off of her. Kalanit scrambles backwards, gasping, and sees blond hair, a spray of blood-

She screams. A hand covers her mouth, and Kalanit tries to bite it, fighting back with every ounce of strength in her. Her gaze is fixed on the boy with the dead eyes, blood running down his face in rivulets, but his chest – she can see white, she can see bone-

"Kalanit," a voice says, the wrong voice. A cannon booms. "Kalanit you can't scream, you can't bring more people here."

She struggles to catch her breath. Kaiser's eyes are sharp, piercing into her own. He holds one hand over her mouth, and the other grips her shoulder, fingers digging in tightly.

Red.

She nods cautiously, and Kaiser steps back. He wipes his hand on his pants, staring at Taro for a little too long. Kalanit clambers to her feet uneasily, headed for the room Eleven came out of.

"Roshan?" Her voice is high and strained. She can't see him at first. "Roshan, where are-"

He's slumped against a wall, barely remaining on his feet. Roshan holds a hand to his side, eyes wide and frightened. He opens his mouth wordlessly, then closes it. Kalanit watches, entranced, as blood seeps through his fingers.

Red, she thinks to herself. He's always liked green better.

"Lani," he manages. "You are…"

"No, no, no," she mutters frantically. Her hands scramble to staunch the bleeding, and even though Roshan hisses in pain, one of his hands secures hers in place. "Kaiser! Kaiser!"

She doesn't care that she's screaming. All Kalanit cares about is steadying Roshan as he slides down the wall. She pleads with him, hysterical through her tears, and he manages to keep his eyes open and fixed on her.

"I'm okay," she sobs. "I'm okay, and you're okay. You can't- you can't-"

"You're okay," he repeats. His eyes flutter shut. "You're…"

"Shit." Kaiser strips off the jacket of his suit, passing it to her with fumbling hands. "Shit- Roshan, we're so close, you can't- not now-"

"He'll be okay," Kalanit insists. His blood soaks her hands like a glove. "He'll be okay."

June 23, 02:41

Kalanit hardly sleeps that night.

With Roshan out of commission, Kalanit has to take his shift on watch. While Kaiser sleeps soundly, Kalanit clenches a knife so tightly in her hands that it leaves impressions for hours after she puts it down. She stays rooted by Roshan's side all night, wasting precious water on dampening a cloth to put on his forehead. He stays soundly asleep, barely moving. Kalanit watches his chest to make sure it continues to rise and fall.

They're officially stuck. Roshan is in no position to go anywhere. Kalanit is aware that staying with him is like becoming prey waiting to be picked off, but she won't leave him. Kaiser paces the room endlessly, occasionally venturing down the hallway, but he always comes back.

Kalanit doesn't know what to do. She knows that the numbers are dwindling – though she's lost track by now – and yet… she's still here.

(Should she be? Kalanit hasn't done anything. Her continued survival is a testament to her allies, not her own merit. Kalanit is the sort of person that stays still while everyone else moves around her. She's grown roots so deep that she doesn't believe she'll ever be able to dig them up.

Is it worth it to try?)

June 24, 04:36

She can't tell what woke her up.

Whatever it was, it reminded Kalanit of a cannon – worse. Though she can quickly tell it's nowhere near them, the aftershocks ripple through the castle, and Kalanit grits her teeth. She sits up, looking to Kaiser for answers, but she's surprised to find him asleep. Kalanit panics, and tries to think back – it was supposed to be Kaiser's turn, wasn't it? Did she fall asleep and put them all in danger? Did he?

A hand encloses her wrist. "Lani."

Tears spring into her eyes. "Roshan?"

He looks exhausted, but he is alive, and Kalanit has never been more grateful. "Just a scratch," he says.

Kalanit can't help but laugh. "That was far more than a scratch. Are you…?"

"I am alive," he says. "It doesn't hurt much."

Judging by the way he's a little short of breath, Kalanit is guessing the second part is a lie. But she doesn't have the heart to call him out on it, not when she knows he's lying for her sake.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," Roshan tells her. "Again."

"It's okay," Kalanit says, and she means it. "I'm just glad you're still here."

A cannon goes off. Then another.

"I don't know how many are left," Kalanit finds herself admitting.

"Not enough." Another cannon. "Less than eight."

The realization is chilling. "Oh."

His hand finds hers, still sticky with his blood. Kalanit hasn't left his side long enough to wash it off. Despite this, he lets her cling tightly, like he is her single lifeline to the world, and not the other way around.

"Kalanit… Lani, I-"

"Please don't," she whispers. "Not now."

(In truth, she has no idea what he was going to say. She knows there might never be a later. But Kalanit can sense that some sort of goodbye is coming, a premonition that looms over her, a sky gathering stormclouds.

She's felt this before, after all. Right before her mother disappeared.)

(There's a fourth cannon that day, hours after the rest. Kalanit looks out the window to see rain falling.

The end is coming, Kalanit is sure of it. She doesn't know that she's brave enough to see it through.)

June 25, 22:49

"Kalanit." Someone shakes her shoulder. "Kalanit, wake up."

She opens her eyes, confused. Kaiser is crouched in front of her, clearly frantic, and Kalanit bolts upright. Her gaze falls on Roshan, who is asleep but still breathing, and she sighs in relief. Still here.

"We have to go," Kaiser insists. He grabs her arm, tugging her upright, and Kalanit has no choice but to follow.

"Go… where? We can't go anywhere without Roshan."

"I had an idea – we'll be fast. The garden, remember?"

"Of course, but-"

"You said there were medicinal herbs, didn't you? There has to be something that can help him, right?"

Kalanit did say that. She looks to Roshan, notices that he appears more flushed than normal. She bites her lip worriedly.

"We still can't leave him alone," she points out. "He's not even awake, what if someone…" She can't finish the thought.

"We'll be fast," Kaiser promises. "He'd kill me if I sent you by yourself, and you're the one with the plant knowledge. Someone would have to be lucky enough to stumble upon him. You're with me, right?"

"I…"

"Please, Lani," he pleads. "There's not much time left."

Kalanit squeezes her eyes shut. "Okay," she agrees. "We'll be fast."

It's easier to find the garden the second time around, but Kalanit feels like it takes eons to get there. Her stomach twists into knots with every step she takes. She barely remembers to shove a book in the doorway to keep it open.

The garden is almost exactly as they left it – almost. It's beginning to brown, to wilt, and yet… Kalanit does not feel sorrowful at the sight. Outside, the sky is dark, and the moon rises. Though there are torches lining the walls throughout the garden, Kalanit still has to squint to see properly.

As she wanders down the path, Kaiser trails along behind her. Kalanit tries to think of what might help, but for some reason, she can't quite concentrate.

She kneels down in front of a patch of greenery – there's a cluster of tiny blue flowers right in front of her. Beside them is a purple bell-shaped flower with dark berries. Further back, she spots a thorny bush. Kalanit takes care not to touch any of them.

(What is she missing?)

Kalanit hesitates. "Kaiser?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you bring me with you?"

"What do you mean? You know all about these plants, you said it yourself."

And that's true, but there's something wrong. Kalanit keeps her head ducked, trying to think. There's something she's missing, something that's been there all along.

Kaiser lingers a few feet away from her. Kalanit thinks of Roshan, alone upstairs. Of Velocity, and how small she looked when her body crumpled on the ground. The way Kaiser has barely looked at either of them since.

"Kaiser," she says again. "What did you say you were studying in Three again?"

"Architecture." Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him reach for something at his waist.

"Art classes," she remembers. "And…"

She's barely able to move fast enough. His knife slices through the skirt of her dress, pinning it to the ground. Kalanit snatches it and leaps to her feet, stumbling backwards.

"Botany," Kalanit says breathlessly. "You were studying botany."

Her ally smiles, but it's forced. "Among other things. I'm surprised you remember."

"You… Why did you bring me here?"

He laughs humorlessly. "Do you even know how many of us are left?"

"Less than eight."

"Six. Soon to be four."

It's both a threat and a promise. Kalanit takes another step back. "What… what did you do to Roshan?"

"Nothing that wasn't already going to happen. I just sped up the process."

"You promised-"

"I can't make it out of here if I'm stuck with a child and a dead man walking! I can't- I have to go home, Kalanit. Surely you can understand that."

"You left him all alone!" she cries. "And you intend for him to die like that?"

Kaiser's face is briefly stricken with pain, but it's gone too fast for Kalanit to understand why. "I can't let you leave here," he says. "And even if you did, there's nothing you could do to save him."

"What did you do?" she asks again. Her gaze darts around wildly, looking for a way to stall. There's nothing she can do – if she tries to run, Kaiser is faster, and if she fights, he's stronger. Her only hope is to outwit him, but that's a hopeless endeavor when all Kalanit can think about is Roshan.

(Roshan, who is all alone. Roshan, who never would've left her. Roshan, who is- who is-)

Kaiser draws another knife. "I'm sorry," he says, and Kalanit thinks he means it. "It would be best if you didn't know."

She turns and runs deeper into the garden. Kaiser falters behind her, clearly thinking she would make a run for the exit. But Kalanit only has one idea, and she's praying to every god that will listen that it works.

(Even a fire cannot scorch the roots, Roshan told her. And while that's true, Kalanit knows there's nothing more vulnerable to fire than a dying garden.)

She rips one torch off the wall, thrusting it into a patch of grass. It catches immediately and begins to spread – Kalanit has no time to watch the destruction happen. She throws the torch into a flowered area, and keeps moving.

Kalanit manages to repeat this process twice more, but after she grabs a fourth torch, Kaiser cuts her off. He's breathing hard, gaze fixed on the torch she's wielding in front of her like a weapon. He falters, knuckles white on the hilt of his knife.

He's afraid of fire.

"This isn't going to change anything," he warns her.

Kalanit lifts her chin. "Then there's nothing to be scared of."

He sneers at her. "I'll be sure to make it fast."

Before Kaiser can lunge at her, Kalanit throws the torch directly at his face. While Kaiser manages to narrowly miss it, his clothes don't, and he yelps as the fabric of his shirt catches fire.

Kalanit tries to sprint away, but a hand grabs the fabric of her skirt, and she stumbles. She's still clutching the knife in her hand, and without thinking, she spins around and slashes it through Kaiser's forearm.

The sight of blood immediately makes her feel ill, but Kaiser is shocked enough to let go of her dress, and Kalanit manages to gain her bearings enough to run. The world around her is a blur of red and green, and she feels a hint of wind against her cheeks – enough for the fire to spread.

(It's all ashes, nothing but ashes. Her mother, her garden, the Arena. Kalanit cannot hope to put any of it back together.

This is how the story ends, doesn't it? With fire and blood?)

(Kalanit does not want to die.)

Her lungs burn. Kalanit watches as another section of the garden gets swallowed alive by the flames. And all the while, she stands idly by.

It's beautiful, isn't it?

She finds that she is not afraid when Kaiser comes again. The gleam of his knife is not as bright as the raging fire, or the sound of her mother's voice, or the warmth of Roshan's cautious smile.

So fleeting. There, and then gone.

Kalanit refuses to follow.

She ducks out of the way of his knife, finding that her limbs are surprisingly steady. She knows she is too small to hit the delicate skin of his neck, but there are other openings she can work with. Kaiser seems to remember the training he gave her, keeping his stomach well guarded, but that's not where Kalanit aims.

When she darts forward, Kaiser reacts fast enough to catch her in her already-wounded shoulder with his blade. Kalanit grits her teeth as pain rolls over her, but she's close enough to drive her own knife home.

Kaiser screams, buckling to the ground. Kalanit stumbles backwards, face streaked with tears, clutching her shoulder with her now-empty hand. Her knife is buried to the hilt in his thigh. He tries to stand, but his leg can't support his weight, and he crumples again.

Without a weapon in reach, Kalanit does not dare draw closer. She takes a step back.

"Lani," he says, trying to appeal to her again. His eyes are bright with a sheen of tears, as lucid as the forget-me-nots behind him. "Lani please, I- I have to go home. I left so many things unfinished. I'll be nothing. It wasn't supposed to end like this! I can't die here!"

She swallows. It would be easy to end it now. The numbers will dwindle again, down to five.

(Kalanit has not heard a cannon yet.)

"You were my friend," she says aloud.

Kaiser laughs bitterly. He yanks the knife out of his thigh, and blood flows freely. "Am I not still?"

The answer should be no, but the word gets stuck in her throat. "I don't know," she tells him.

"I didn't want it to end like this."

"You didn't intend to be the one left on the ground."

"No," he admits. He looks up at her. "We can still fix this."

Kalanit doesn't deign him with a response. There is nothing to fix, not anymore. The only thing she wants is to return to Roshan, hoping desperately that he is still alive when she gets there.

(Kaiser's screams echo in the passageway, and Kalanit cannot cover her ears tightly enough to drown him out entirely. He begs and pleads, but there is nothing that can change her mind. She has left him in the remains of his own doing.

She makes sure to remove the book from the doorway. When the door closes behind her, she does not look back.)

June 26, 03:05

There are six of them left.

Kalanit could curse her own rashness – in her haste, she has taken several wrong turns, wasting precious time that she does not have. When the cannon goes off, she staggers, knowing that there are only two people it could be.

"Please," she whispers to the empty air. "Please still be there."

(She can still vividly remember the day she came home from school to an empty house. Though Kalanit easily found the note and box addressed to her on the table, she scoured the house, looking for another answer.

There wasn't one. Rahamana was gone without so much as a goodbye, without any sort of explanation.

Kalanit can't bear to see the past repeat itself.)

"Roshan?" she calls as she enters the room where they left him. Her voice cracks. "Roshan, are you there?"

He's exactly where they left him. Kalanit falls to her knees by his side, puts her hand to his forehead, and quickly yanks it away – he's burning up. When he opens his eyes, his eyes are foggy, his pupils dilated. Roshan tries to push her away, mumbling something that she can't understand.

She's beginning to understand Kaiser's confidence that nothing would save him. She remembers the way he disappeared the night in the garden – at the time, claiming to sleep. Now, Kalanit believes he was merely finding the right poison.

"Roshan," she pleads, running a hand through his hair. "Roshan, it's me, it's- it's Lani."

He recoils, still weakly trying to fight back. Kalanit keeps talking, keeps a gentle hand on him. "Please come back," she whispers.

(She should've let him say goodbye.)

When he opens his eyes again, he sees her. Roshan tries to sit up, making a low sound of pain.

"Lani?"

The tears that have been pricking at her eyes return in full force. "I'm sorry," she sobs. "I didn't- I didn't mean to leave."

"You are… alive?" His brows wrinkle. "I saw…"

"Yes, yes, and I'm okay," she promises.

He stares at a spot over her shoulder. "I heard…"

The cannon. Kalanit swallows thickly. "Kaiser," she says. "It… he…"

"Gone?"

"Yes," she says, and then hesitates. She doesn't want to tell him the rest – his betrayal, their fight. Kalanit desperately wants to keep those details to herself, to let Roshan believe…

(But, deep down, she knows he would do the same for her.)

"It was Kaiser," she says. "He did this to you."

Roshan goes very still. His eyes flutter shut. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," Kalanit says again.

"'s not… not your fault."

"I can't help you," she admits, hands beginning to tremble. "The garden – it's gone."

He blinks. "I am dying," he says aloud. The words ring hollow in Kalanit's ears.

Kalanit wants to cry, to scream, to beg, but she knows when the inevitable is staring her in the face. Whether it happens in minutes or his pain stretches into hours, Roshan will not last the day.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asks anyway.

His entire body shudders. "Lani," he manages. She realizes that his lashes are damp with tears. "Lani, I- hurts."

Kalanit hears a noise, and she startles, looking around wildly for the source. Her eyes eventually land on a box labeled with a bold 7. A sponsor gift, she thinks. Something to help.

In her haste to open the box, she rips the lid. Her hands tremble. She desperately hopes for some sort of cure, or something for his pain.

Instead, the gift contains a single sharp knife.

Kalanit shoves the box away from her, breathing faster. She stares at Roshan, his hands twitching, his eyes slipping shut again. She could make it happen faster. She could ease his pain.

"I can't," she whispers. "I can't, I can't-"

"Lani," he says again. Because he knows, of course he does. A barely-there smile lingers on his face. "'s okay."

"I don't want to hurt you."

He hums. "Trust."

The knife is cold in her hand. There are a million things Kalanit wants to say, but she can't manage to voice any of them – not any of the ones she really means.

"I don't want you to go," she whispers.

"Still here," Roshan tells her. "Remember."

(And Kalanit remembers many things about that moment. The sound of a cannon. Her endless tears. Sometimes, when she lies awake at night, this is the memory that follows her when her eyes close.

The only thing she does not remember is the look on his face, because she could not bear to watch.)

The warmth of the sun is just beginning to fade when Lani stops asking her mother for more stories. Rahamana tries not to feel saddened every time her daughter finally stops pressing her for just one more! There will always be tomorrow, and the day after, and as many days as the next several years will bring. Rahamana will cherish every time there is a next time, because someday there won't be.

(Around them, the leaves are beginning to turn. Lani is saddened by this change every year, for she is not quite accustomed to the surety of spring.

Rahamana's smile grows sorrowful. At least she knows that some things will stay the same — the leaves fall. Flowers bloom. Time goes on, regardless of what anyone else has to say about the matter. Each year brings new joys and new sorrows, and Rahamana welcomes each one with open arms.)

"Mother," Lani says, corners of her mouth turning down into a frown. She's been mulling something over for the past several minutes — Rahamana can tell. "What happens after?"

"After what, love?"

"After the end. There has to be an after, right?"

"Well when you reach the end of a story, you can either start it all over again, or you can find something new."

"That's not the same," Kalanit pouts. It's uncharacteristically childish of her. Rahamana weaves a hand through the girl's golden curls, watching as she begins to relax.

"You're right," she admits. "It's an endless cycle. The characters don't know that they're acting out a story, so they see it through to the end, and then find their way back to the beginning. There is no finding their own way."

"But…"

"But you," Rahamana says gently, "are different. You have a thousand paths to choose from. The story is only over when you want it to be."

Lani rakes her hands through the dirt, still not fully satisfied. "But there's nothing written down about after."

"Of course there isn't. Otherwise, what would be the fun of making it up yourself?"

June 27, 23:16

Kalanit has lost track of where she is. The Arena all looks the same now, with no friendly face to guide her. And when night falls, she makes sure to duck into a room to avoid the faceless knights. She's sure her mother told her a story about them ages ago – valiant and kind, always willing to lend a hand – but these, which had been a simple footnote in the back of Kalanit's mind a day ago, feel otherworldly. She sits by the open doorway, just out of sight, and listens to them clink their way down the hall.

(It makes her feel just a little less lonely.)

With nothing better to do, Kalanit begins to explore. She memorizes the gaps between the knights' rounds and learns how to dart between rooms without getting noticed. Though she has no intention of going back to the garden – for fear of what she may find there – she tries to look for other secrets. One nightstand has a false bottom, and Kalanit finds a single glass shoe. She turns it over in her hands, and eventually puts it back. Without its other half, Kalanit has no use for it. Another nightstand holds a pack of matches in its drawer. Kalanit almost slams the door shut immediately, and then she thinks better of it and tucks it into her backpack.

Maybe her biggest discovery is another passageway, one that's less hidden. Kalanit finds an old wooden door and cracks it open, surprised to see a staircase leading down into darkness. She blinks a few times, letting her eyes adjust, and thinks about what to do next.

It's an unknown area, but maybe that's a good thing. Kalanit can leave behind all the memories of before, explore something new, and maybe…

(Maybe what? Kalanit's arms wrap more tightly around herself, clutching a book to her chest. She doesn't know what's supposed to happen next. There are only four of them left, only three standing between Kalanit and home, but that seems like an impossible task.

Velocity's smile. Kaiser's screams. Roshan's voice. They keep her awake, driving her onward, finding something, anything to clear her mind.

It's not fair that Kalanit is the only one remaining.)

Kalanit doesn't let herself think about it any longer. She makes her way down the stairs, noticing that this area isn't as elaborate as the rest. The ceiling is lower, the floor is dingy. There's a faint scent of mustiness that makes Kalanit's nose wrinkle.

Though the one thing she notices more than the rest is the clear sign of someone else inhabiting the area.

Kalanit tenses, suddenly realizing that she has no idea who all is left. She stopped watching the anthem ages ago, to preserve her own sanity.

There's a clatter to her left, and Kalanit jumps, readying herself. With no allies left to protect her, she'll have to face the end alone.

Instead of a formidable foe, she's greeted with the sight of a girl younger than her. Dark hair, blunt choppy bangs. Her teal dress is wrinkled and tattered, a thousand stories lying in each imperfection. The time she's spent in the Arena has left an impact, one that isn't surface deep, one that's hard to wash off. Kalanit knows that her own dress is singed, stained with blood, and torn. But this girl… she looks young still, though there's a new fear in her eyes, a new hollowness to her cheeks.

The girl trembles, knife held tightly in two hands. "Don't come any closer! Don't think I won't!"

"Aster?" she asks, mystified.

Her face pinches tight. "Why do you know my name?"

"I'm sorry, I… I'm not going to hurt you," Kalanit says, holding up her hands. The only thing she carries is a book, which is hardly a weapon. "I just… remember you."

"You're from Seven."

"Kalanit."

"I…" Her eyes dart around wildly, searching for any kind of help. Aster sniffles. "You should go," she insists, less of a threat and more of a plea. "My-my friends will be back for me soon!"

That's right, Kalanit remembers. Achlys and Madeva. Nine and Ten. They never would've left her side unless they didn't see another option.

"When did they leave?"

"Um… two days ago? Three? It's- there aren't any windows down here."

Something twists in the pit of Kalanit's stomach. There's nothing she can think of to say. Kalanit understands this sort of grief, and nothing has been able to take away the pain. Based on the amount of supplies left behind, Kalanit can guess they intended to return.

With startling clarity, she remembers the sound of three cannons, presumably from the same fight, and then the fourth, far later. She wonders if it was all from the same encounter, if one of Aster's friends made it out but couldn't make it back.

"You've been down here ever since?"

Aster's face is beginning to crumple. "I'm scared," she chokes out.

Kalanit isn't sure how to respond to that. She tries to think of what Rahamana would say, what Roshan would say, but their voices are so quiet in her mind now. She's been set adrift in an ocean, and the only thing to do now is learn how to swim.

Cautiously, she takes a step forward. Aster just buries her head in her hands.

(A sick part of her thinks it would be so easy. Kalanit doesn't know this girl. Aster has done nothing to her, nothing to warrant any kindness or cruelty.

She wouldn't see it coming. Kalanit could make it quick and painless. She'd be one step closer to home.)

"I'm scared too," she says aloud. "I- I miss my friends."

"They're gone, too?" Aster tilts her head up to look at Kalanit, a strange hope in her eyes. The kind that says, I'm not alone?

The book in her hands is heavy. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry about yours."

"They- they said they'd come back," Aster whispers. "Achlys promised."

"She wouldn't break that promise unless she didn't have another choice."

"I know." Aster sniffles. "That doesn't make it better."

"I know."

"I wish she was still here. I want to go home."

"What do you miss the most?"

"My sister," is the girl's swift answer. "She's the one that gave me this."

Aster points to a thin gold chain around her neck. There is a pendant hanging from it, but Kalanit can't make out whatever used to be etched on it. The pendant itself seems to be worn down, likely by Aster's own fingers.

"You should tell me about her," Kalanit says. It's a silent plea, one that Kalanit hopes that Aster hears.

Let me stay.

The barest hint of a smile crawls across Aster's face. "Okay."

June 28, 21:02

The next day is much of the same. Kalanit occupies their time by asking questions, by learning everything she can. She's always loved stories, after all, and talking about home seems to calm Aster as well. She talks until her voice grows quiet, until even a whisper is deafeningly loud in the quiet. Kalanit listens to all of it with a quietly burning ache in her chest.

Aster and her allies slept on the Nine floor almost every night in the Capitol. They threw pillows and blankets onto the living room floor to create a nest, and Aster slept every night feeling safe and surrounded. Back home, she shares a bed with her sister. She can't sleep if she's all alone.

She's taken out more tesserae than anyone back home knows. Money is tight, and they often run low on food, and they can only steal so much fruit from the gardens before people start noticing. If Aster hadn't done anything, her sister would've taken out more, and then maybe Camellia would be here in her place. This is a possibility that Aster clearly finds more distressing than her own fate, and Kalanit realizes her eyes are stinging with tears.

Every time there's a lull in the story, Kalanit finds herself speaking up, asking for more, one more, another. She is a child again, sitting at her mother's feet, pretending that her own insistence will keep time from moving, stall the sun in the sky. She wants to be suspended in this moment forever, desperately afraid of whatever comes after.

(Nothing can last forever, Kalanit remembers. But she desperately hopes that tomorrow will hold off for just a little longer.)

When they both finally go silent, it is a long while before either of them speaks again. Aster is the first to do so.

"There are four of us," she says, not quite meeting Kalanit's eyes.

She hums. "The end is soon."

"We can't stay here forever."

"No," Kalanit acknowledges. "But… but we should get some sleep."

"And…" Aster hesitates. "And you'll be…?"

"I'll be here," she promises. "I'll be with you."

"Okay," Aster says, nodding once. "Okay."

Kalanit lays down to sleep, her mind whirling with half-baked plans. She just needs a little rest, and then they can figure everything out in the morning.

"We're almost home," Aster whispers into the darkness.

Kalanit tries not to think of her house that isn't a home, of the mother that is lost to her, of her friends that are gone. Nothing outside this Arena calls to her. Her home is full of ghosts, and Kalanit fears she will be the next to haunt it.

But oh, how she doesn't want to die.

(They're too exhausted to hear the cannon late at night, to realize a simple truth: they were only left alone for so long because someone else was providing entertainment. And with half of that source gone, the survivor will look to whoever is left. The Capitol will watch with bated breath, knowing that a finale – and a clear Victor – are almost within reach.

The girls sleep peacefully that night.)

June 29, 05:49

It's like being tugged straight out of a dream.

Kalanit wakes up with her heart pounding, a scream bubbling up in her throat but never escaping. Try as she might, she can't make herself settle. She feels eyes on her, watching her, and Kalanit is reminded that in a place like this, she is nothing but prey, and she has made the mistake of letting her guard down.

It's a noise that woke her up – Kalanit hears it again. A gurgle, almost like a small brook in the forest. But Kalanit can't remember a water source within the confines of the Arena. She sits up, turning to awaken Aster and ask her what she thinks, but-

The noise stops. A cannon sounds. There's a smile carved into Aster's throat, so deep that blood flows like a river onto the floor. Kalanit realizes that her own hair is sticky with it, and her stomach roils in protest.

There's no time for her to feel sick, not as Ryujin hovers over Aster's body, jagged blade still in his hand. His eyes are wild, nearly luminous in the dim lighting. Kalanit feels trapped, pinned down like a butterfly.

This is not how she expected things to end.

"Sorry for waking you," Ryujin says, grinning. "I was hoping you'd stay out for a little while longer."

"She was sleeping." Kalanit stares at Aster's body, the way she still looks so peaceful. "You-"

You didn't give her the chance to fight back.

Kalanit is realizing with startling clarity that she is hopelessly outmatched. Ryujin has every physical advantage – he's older, he's stronger, he's faster, he knows how to wield a weapon. He has no qualms about killing a sleeping child. Kalanit has not prepared for an outcome like this, where she is all alone. Her knife is stashed away in her backpack, still bloodstained. She doesn't know where to run.

He won't give me the chance to fight back, either.

"You're a coward," Kalanit says. Her hand slides forward into her backpack, searching for something, anything that can help her. Ryujin doesn't even notice. "You couldn't kill anyone if you were playing fair."

"Why should I? None of this is fucking fair – I should have two years left! And instead I'm here, facing off against a little girl." He bares his teeth. "Some finale this is."

Kalanit's eyes widen. Her hands grab a thin package, and she clutches it tightly. "There's…?"

"Finally got Kosava," he says. When he takes a step towards her, she realizes he's limping. "Fucking sick of her… always underestimating me…"

Kalanit doesn't like how much red is staining the blue of his suit. He's a shark that's gotten a taste of blood in the water, and now his only goal is fight kill win.

For a moment, Kalanit is so certain she'll die here that her throat closes up. She can't breathe. She may not have a home, but she has a life, and she wants to be able to return to it. She doesn't want to die here, stuck underground, surrounded by stone and darkness.

She wants to see the sun again.

Before Kalanit can think about it too hard, she leaps to her feet and runs. Ryujin, obviously not expecting her to flee just yet, lets out a cry of outrage and follows behind. Miraculously, Kalanit finds herself to be faster – she has the advantage of surprise, and she is not as heavily injured. She remembers how she got here, and takes the path back up the stairs, leaving all of her belongings behind.

Kalanit bursts out of the doorway at the top of the stairs, immediately turning left and sprinting as fast as she can. She's searching for a room, any room, with a window where she can see the light. If she is to die, then she will do it with the warmth of the sun on her face.

What somehow manages to surprise her is this: it is still night. Kalanit can see a sliver of the moon through a bay window. She can't tell what time it is, and while the lack of sunlight saddens her, she realizes something else: she knows this area. She was here, over a week ago, back when they were all still together.

Kalanit is almost scarily calm. Her pulse thrums erratically in her ears, her breathing is ragged, and she keeps her eyes focused on the hall in front of her. She hears Ryujin behind her, shouting and cursing, but she ignores him.

She's just reached the door she remembers when something whistles past her ear. Kalanit yelps as the knife ricochets off the doorframe. She spares a fraction of a second to swipe it off the floor, continuing to run straight into the library.

She still recalls the layout like the back of her hand. Kalanit heads straight for the back, out of the open area in the middle. If she can make herself scarce, then this alone will frustrate Ryujin. What he wants is a win that's handed to him, not one he wants to earn. He feels it is something he deserves, like his life has been stolen from him more than Kalanit's was, or Roshan's, or Kaiser's, or Velocity's.

(And yet… part of Kalanit knows that this is the universal crime of the Games. Lives are cut short. Stories are left unfinished. Desperation feeds on desperation, and whoever lives to see another day is a bloody mess of themself.

Kalanit cannot win a fair fight. But then again, no part of the Games is ever truly fair.)

She is armed with nothing but a matchbook and a single knife. With her back pressed against one of the shelves, Kalanit opens the package and sees only three matches in there – not many, but enough to make a difference. There are certainly enough books in here to burn for ages, plenty to cause a worthy distraction.

In the aisle, Kalanit begins haphazardly throwing books on the floor. She knows she's making noise – she wants to make noise, to call him over.

He leers at her. "Getting clumsy, aren't you? If you would just hold still-"

Kalanit leaps over the pile, strikes a match, and lets it fall. Ryujin recoils out of surprise, his eyes widening as the stack flares up in front of him. Kalanit doesn't stick around to watch. She runs to the other side of the library, taking up shelter behind a different shelf, and begins the process anew. Her hands are remarkably steady – she makes him run around, only to set a new fire and chase him off. Ryujin balks at the flames, never attempting to go through them.

Kalanit, on the other hand, almost embraces them.

There is something beautiful about it, in the way it consumes everything it touches. It leaves behind nothing but ashes.

(But maybe from those ashes, something new can take root.)

"There's nowhere to run," Ryujin calls. "All your plan did was block off the entrance. You've trapped us both in here."

Kalanit curls herself up so small that she can hardly be seen. She has much better clarity from here – the paper burns quickly, and fills the air with smoke. Ryujin either hasn't noticed or doesn't care. He thinks she has done this to hide, when really all she has done is given herself an opening.

(The knife is heavy in her hands. Try as she might, Kalanit can't quite justify this to herself. He means to kill her, and yet all she can think of is how badly she doesn't want to cause any more suffering. The weight of two lives on her conscience is already more than enough, she doesn't need to add a third.

But they're the only ones left. No one can save Kalanit but herself.)

His taunting grows louder. She should give up now, he'll make it fast. He'll make sure she's remembered. He'll make sure it's painless. All pretty promises, ones that might work on a frightened child, but that's not what Kalanit is anymore. She waits for him to draw closer, watches as one foot crosses into her vision, and then another. He doesn't see her yet.

Kalanit plunges the knife into the back of his heel. Something snaps, and he buckles to the floor. When Kalanit catches sight of his foot, it hangs limply, as if there's nothing left to support it. He snarls, in both pain and anger, and that's all the warning Kalanit gets before he's on top of her.

He is stronger than her, but Kalanit expected this. She holds the knife in her hand as tightly as she can, refusing to let go. She writhes and fights back as best she can, trying to make his aim falter, make him grow weaker. And all the while, she readies her knife, knowing she only has one chance at this. She sucks in a breath, aiming the knife, praying that it will work, and stabs it-

-right through his chest, just as his blade pierces her stomach.

The world goes fuzzy with pain. Someone screams, and Kalanit can't tell if it's Ryujin or herself. His weight is suddenly off her, and she curls up on her side, protecting herself.

There's a loud noise that makes her ears ring. Kalanit peels her eyes open, staring at the ceiling once more. It's obscured by smoke, but she thinks she sees a light beyond. Day is finally breaking. If she hadn't started the fire, she could see it for herself. Somewhere far above, she hears a voice – is it her mother's? Is she finally going home?

Tears prick at her eyes, and Kalanit squeezes them shut. She's not ready, not yet. Another wave of pain rolls over her.

And then there is darkness.

Kalanit doesn't know how she's still alive.

The room around her is impeccably clean and white. The lights are blinding, and there's a rhythmic beeping coming from somewhere above her head. When Kalanit tries to sit up, the beeping grows faster. She covers her ears with her hands, curling into herself. Everything is so loud, so bright, so white, and it's everything that home isn't.

Home.

Kalanit is suddenly filled with such an intense longing that her eyes fill with tears. She doesn't understand where they're coming from, but once she wipes her eyes, they don't stop flowing. Kalanit suddenly feels incredibly small and alone in the bed. She longs for something – someone – that is no longer here, lingering just out of reach.

The door swings open, and Kalanit squeezes her eyes shut. She hears muffled talking between multiple people, until eventually the door closes again and there's only one left. They wander around the side of the bed and place a gentle hand on Kalanit's arm. When she doesn't move, the woman retreats but doesn't leave. Kalanit can tell she sat down in a chair next to the bed, patiently waiting for Kalanit to engage with her.

There is no escaping. Kalanit is no longer in a position where she can run or hide, and continuing to act like she is now suddenly feels incredibly childish. She slowly unfurls, like a tentative flower in early spring. One wrong move, and she'll be gone.

"Good morning," the woman says, pasting a smile on her face. There's something unnatural about it, but Kalanit isn't sure what. "It's good to have you with us now."

"I'm… where am I?"

"The Capitol." The woman is wearing a white coat, cleanly pressed, and green scrubs. She has a nametag that reads, Dr. Davies. While Kalanit is busy squinting at her, trying to take in the situation, Dr. Davies shines a light in her eyes. "You've been here for a few days. How are you feeling?"

"Good, I think," Kalanit says. Everything is muddled in her head. She gingerly touches her temples. "How did I get here?"

"Well, after you won, we had to deal with that hole in your stomach somehow, so you came up here. We also had to clear the smoke out of your lungs, and we fixed you up a little. A few alterations – nothing major."

Kalanit isn't sure what that last part means, and she's afraid to find out. "Oh," is all she says, voice incredibly meek.

"Congratulations, by the way," Dr. Davies says, smiling that same smile once more. "It really is an honor to win the Hunger Games, isn't it? And so young… you just made history, my dear girl."

"Of course," Kalanit says faintly. "But where's-"

She cuts herself off sharply. The name is caught between her teeth, and she begins to tremble. Roshan isn't here. Roshan isn't anywhere. He's gone, and it's all because Kalanit herself killed him. She should've tried harder, looked for another solution. There's always another path to take. Things didn't have to end like that.

"Oh, yes." Dr. Davies plucks something off the table and hands it to Kalanit. "They grabbed this for you. You're lucky you didn't take it into that library with you."

Kalanit gingerly takes the book – Roshan's book – and turns it over in her hands. It's not at all the sort of thing she would read on her own, but Kalanit knows even now that she will read it cover to cover multiple times, soaking in every word. It wasn't his favorite, but it's the only thing Kalanit has that's his.

She opens the book and flips through it. In the middle, she finds two daisies lovingly pressed between the pages, painstakingly preserved.

There are many things that Kalanit finds she wasn't prepared for in the coming days.

When she feels strong enough to get out of bed, Kalanit takes a look at herself in the mirror. She somehow manages to look both older and younger. Her hair is blonder and glossier. Her eyes bluer, her lashes longer. She's free of any blemishes, even the ones she acquired before the Games. Her skin has the faintest glow to it, like they wanted to highlight her youth and innocence.

And despite all those things, Kalanit sees the past few weeks play out in front of her, over and over again. There's the place Ryujin's knife carved her open. There's the hand Velocity held when they ran from the party. That's the cheek that rested against Roshan's shoulder the night before the Games.

She appears perfect in every way. Kalanit has never seen anything more unsettling.

(And, more than anything, it is strange to look at her own hands and see them so clean. For many years to come, Kalanit will prefer gardening with gloves, to enclose them so they can never hurt anything again. She will treat every plant with the utmost care, as if one wrong move will cause it to wilt in front of her very eyes.)

After that, they dress her up again. She has a whole team that curls her hair, dolls her up, puts her in another dress. This one is the palest shade of pink, like a flower freshly budding. She misses the green.

Soon enough, she finds herself onstage with Itara Kulkarni. Kalanit has forgotten all about the finer details of winning the Games. Honestly, she's still having a hard time remembering that she's won at all. The victory was never what she wanted – she only possessed the simple wish of staying alive.

"Congratulations," Itara says, her smile warm enough to soothe Kalanit's fears. "We've never had a Victor so young before – and with three kills credited to her!"

They are all so proud of her for that. Kalanit isn't sure why. She loathes the simple statistics by her name: Victor, Kalanit Al-Amin, thirteen years old, District Seven, three kills. Stripped of the finer details, Kalanit feels as though this takes away any sort of nuance her Victory possesses. No one will look at this and know that Kaiser betrayed her, that she would've done anything for Roshan, that Ryujin would've stopped at nothing to kill her first.

Instead, Kalanit is simply a killer. She killed her way to get here, to stand in front of Panem and be crowned Victor. She looks out into a sea of delighted faces, and knows that none of them will ever be able to truly understand the position she was in or what she went through.

(She would never wish that upon them, anyway.)

"Thank you," Kalanit says, a little breathlessly. "I'm so grateful to still be here today. I… a few weeks ago, I never would've thought this was possible."

"Neither did we," Itara laughs. "You came out of nowhere and surprised all of us."

"I suspect everyone had other frontrunners in mind."

"Likely, but rest assured, they all pale in comparison to you."

Kalanit flushes and nods her head at the fabricated praise. She's certain that others would've led to a more entertaining conclusion, but her novelty as the youngest Victor is more than enough to keep people entertained.

"Let's start with your allies," Itara says. "Velocity. Were you two close?"

An arrow slices through her neck. "We had our moments," Kalanit says. "She had a lot of energy. She was always smiling, always causing trouble. I… really miss that about her."

"I think many of us feel the same." Itara smiles as though she has any idea what losing someone like that could feel like. "And that was the moment that changed your alliance, wasn't it?"

"It was. It's… you can't come back from everything."

"Kaiser couldn't."

"And I can't blame him."

"What about the end there?" Itara asks. "When he asked if you were still friends? Why didn't you give him a direct answer?"

"Because truthfully, I'm still not sure," Kalanit says. She laughs a little. "We… went through a lot. He saw it as something he needed to do. Maybe he thought I would appreciate it, getting an easy death at the hands of a friend. I couldn't tell him yes, but I couldn't tell him no, either."

"I noticed you were in a similar position for him and Roshan, yet you showed one mercy and not the other."

"I felt only one of them deserved it."

"I don't know how you found it in you to do that for Roshan."

Kalanit ducks her head. "He would do the same for me."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I…" Kalanit falters. "He made things simple. Sometimes there is no best answer, only a right answer. It's hard, and ugly, and even painful, but when you- when you really care about someone, you know it's right. And I cared about him more than anyone. I would've done anything, had I been given the option."

Something in Itara's face pinches, and she quickly moves on. Kalanit lets the conversation flow away, until the lights dim and the screen behind her lights up. She forgot to prepare herself to relive every painful moment, and each one is like ripping open an old wound, cutting deeper and deeper until it weeps with blood.

(Kalanit watches the recap of her own Games more times than she can count, and she learns something new every time. She sees the way their lives intersect, the relationships made and broken, the pain woven deeply into all of them. And yet, every time, just as Kalanit thinks there, that's the one, that's who will surely win, she ends up watching her own victory play out instead.

It still doesn't make sense to her. Lani is just Lani.

She hopes that one day she'll discover what more she can be.)

The house looms in front of her, tall and imposing after her time away. It's been a month now, though Kalanit feels like it's been far longer. She's lived a whole lifetime in her absence, and she can clearly see that this house is a mere shell of what it once was, back when Rahamana was still here. Any sense of warmth had fled the house, and Kalanit used to fear it would never return.

Used to. Now, Kalanit finds herself to be unbothered by the house's emptiness. It holds nothing but memories, and that's enough. Kalanit has her own house now, a place she can turn into a home. Though Rahamana will never step foot in that house, Kalanit knows her presence will find a way to inhabit it anyway. She hopes so. Kalanit is not the type of girl that minds living with ghosts.

Cautiously, Kalanit raises her fist to knock, as if she's a stranger to the place. Her uncle opens the door, face souring instantly. Kalanit didn't expect him to do anything else. There's always been an underlying something between them, a tension that Kalanit has never understood. He has never made the offer to clarify things for her, and so Kalanit has spent the past few years simply trying to stay out of his way.

"You're back," Drystan says, face souring as he looks at her. "Never thought you'd manage that."

"I'm sure you didn't."

"The house is sold. They'll be here next week."

Straight to the point, she sees. He expects her to back down instantly, as if he is the most threatening thing she's encountered in the past several weeks. Kalanit could laugh. He truly has no idea what she's been through.

"It was not yours to sell."

"You're a child. You have no real claim to this house until you turn eighteen. I'm your legal guardian. Everything that's yours must go through me."

"And you think that makes it right."

Drystan laughs and shakes his head. "You haven't changed at all," he mutters. "It doesn't matter if it's right. What's done is done. Your belongings have been collected in the living room. You're lucky I didn't get the chance to throw them away first."

She tilts her head to the side. "You think I am lucky?"

"I think it takes a lot of sheer luck for a child to win the Games," Drystan sneers. Every time he says the word 'child,' he spits it out like a curse.

And suddenly, Kalanit feels a great sorrow welling up inside of her. She can't fathom what sort of hatred twists a person like this, splinters them into fragments. She wonders if Drystan was always like this, or if some incident is the source of his downfall.

(The thought makes another spring to mind – the memory of Kaiser's determination to kill her, brought on by his despair and loss. She is just a child, after all. Doesn't she have less to lose?)

"Why do you hate me so?" Kalanit finally asks, voicing the question that's lingered in the back of her mind for years.

"It was never about you."

A pause. Kalanit can hardly breathe. "Do you know what happened to her?"

"Yes." He looks at her. "I could've lived the rest of my life never thinking of her again, you know. I had nothing to do with it."

"I never said you did."

"I've learned to anticipate your… imaginative conclusions. If you're so curious, she got sick. I assume she didn't want to expose you. I didn't bother looking into it further."

His callousness about the matter shakes Kalanit more than anything. She sucks in a breath and nods. "And what about the garden?"

"What about it?"

"Is it still…?"

"It looks to be overrun. If you're so curious, go look at it yourself. Get your belongings when you're done. Or before. And then get out."

"May I step inside, then?" Kalanit blinks up at him. A plan is forming in her mind.

He rolls his eyes and lets her in without speaking – their conversation is clearly over. He has given Kalanit plenty to think about. She excuses herself into the kitchen, rummaging through familiar drawers, and then surveys the living room. There is only one thing she makes sure to grab – the box from her mother. Besides that, the most sentimental thing she owns lies outside, and Kalanit is afraid of the ruin that awaits her.

In the month since she's been gone, the wisteria has spread everywhere. It has grown more, vines getting thicker, covering the ground. Almost all the flowers are gone, trampled underfoot. Kalanit knows that even if she peeled off every vine one by one, there would be no saving them.

Instead, she aims for the trees. Her mother's elm, her oak, their willow. Kalanit places a hand against the bark, marred with constricting flowers, and knows for certain that there is no way to save the garden.

This is an outcome she prepared for.

And so, just as Roshan taught her, and her mother before him, Kalanit wields a knife with trembling hands and cuts off a branch of their willow tree.

When she's done collecting cuttings, Kalanit stands in the middle of her garden, eyes perfectly dry. She expected to feel… more. Instead, she comes to the conclusion that there's only one thing to do.

Kalanit can't stay trapped in the past forever. She must learn to make her own way.

Even a fire cannot scorch the roots.

The flame flickers in her hands. She lets it fall.

(Back in her house, surrounded by the chaos of her whole life half-packed before her, Kalanit only has eyes for the box from her mother. She has never had the courage to open it. She was never wise enough, never brave enough, never… enough.

But Kalanit has lived a thousand lifetimes by now. She has learned all on her own. And she will not let anything stop her from seeing what her mother left for her.

When she opens the box, Kalanit gasps softly. On top lies a bag of seeds, perfectly preserved in the cool and dry environment. A final gift from her mother: a way to start anew. Kalanit can already imagine the delicate blue flowers blossoming in her garden, a reminder of Rahamana as well as everyone else she's lost.

Forget-me-nots.)

Time passes. Summer turns into fall, and Kalanit grows another year older. Or, perhaps, another day older. The occasion comes and goes without great fanfare – strangely, Kalanit feels as though she has achieved much more in the past months.

And eventually, fall fades into winter. Just as Kalanit falls into a rhythm, tending to her newly planted garden, taking extra classes to make up for lost time, she finds herself back on the train. The trees fly by and fade away into sparse patches of grass and rocky mountains. Briar and Lynx regularly coach her on what to say, but Kalanit is lost in her own head. She is torn between excitement, for she has never been to another District before, and fear, for she has tried for months to forget about many of these faces.

Though each of her speeches to fallen tributes makes her eyes well up with tears, Kalanit finds other things to take solace in. Some families, the ones whose children she was not well acquainted with, tell her stories. She listens to them for as long as they'll let her, and once she gets in bed for the night, she writes down everything she can remember. Other Districts let her wander the area, happy to show off their greatest attributes.

Her favorite is Eleven, where Camellia clings to her and sobs, overflowing with thanks, and then brings her to one of the orchards. Kalanit has never seen trees like this before – the kind that bears fruit – and eats a slice of a fresh orange. The juices run down her chin and stain her hands, but all Kalanit can do is laugh brightly.

(And, with every District she visits, Kalanit stares out into the vast crowd and wonders who will be next. Maybe one of these children will be dead in the next year, in the next ten. Maybe they will claw their way to the end and stand with her.

The thought always makes her heart ache. She will see many rise and fall in the coming years, and she will be powerless to stop it from happening.

She just… wishes there was something she could do.)

District Four has been her most anticipated visit. Dreaded, of course, because Kalanit has never been ready to speak directly to Ryujin's family, but… well, Kalanit has never seen the ocean before. There are lakes in Seven, but she has always loved the concept of an open body of water, of looking out and being unable to see land. The first half of the day passes by in a haze, one where she learns that Ryujin was the youngest of his family – and the only one left. Three children, no Victors.

To take her mind off of it, she makes her way to the beach. Here, no one is particularly interested in showing her around. Kalanit doesn't mind making the trek all by herself. She trails fingers over tall grasses, watches as dirt paths turn into sand, which burns under Kalanit's feet. She's strangely unsteady as the sand shifts under her, but with every step she grows bolder. The sun beats down on her head, and she lifts her face to the sky.

Winter in Four is stunning. Kalanit is used to hard freezes, to snow and sweaters and cold. Here, she still sees kids running up and down beaches, and she smiles at their clear joy. The sea lays beyond, the constant tug and pull of the waves a comfort. Kalanit finds herself walking along the shore for ages, until the crowds begin to peter out, until the sun begins to fall to the horizon.

She finally stops, wondering how far she's gone. Kalanit briefly worries that she's lost, and turns to survey the area. There's a beach house nearby, one that looks abandoned, but maybe someone will be there to help.

To her surprise, it's not a person that she first sees, but a kitten. A sleek grey blur scampers out, winding itself around her legs. Kalanit stands perfectly still, unsure of what to do.

"Hello?" a young voice calls. "Is that you, Se- oh."

The girl is about nine or ten, auburn hair glinting in the sun. She's holding another cat, which starts squirming in her arms. When she puts it down, it immediately runs off, hiding just out of sight under an old wooden staircase.

"Um," she says, shuffling her feet. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"I'm sorry," Kalanit takes a step back, hoping to ease her nerves. "I just… I'm afraid I'm a little lost."

Somehow, this makes the girl perk up. "Oh! I only know the way back to my house. But my brother should be here soon, he'll know."

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"You're not! I want you to stay. The ocean is always better with company."

When Kalanit cautiously sits down on the ground, the girl beams. The grey kitten crawls into her lap, and Kalanit cautiously runs her fingers down its spine.

"She likes you," the girl says, somehow thrilled by this. "She doesn't like many people."

"Does she have a name?"

Her face pulls down into a frown. "No. I'm not very good at names."

"Willow?"

"That's perfect," she gushes. She stretches out one of her hands to scratch the kitten's head. She pauses, and then bolts upright. "I need something for you now."

Kalanit blinks up at her. "That's really not-"

"I'll be right back!"

And before Kalanit can argue more, she's disappeared into the beach house. If there wasn't a cat occupying her lap, Kalanit might think of following, but instead she waits for her to return. After a few minutes, the girl rushes back out, grinning widely.

"Here!" She pulls a white disk out of her pocket and presses it into Kalanit's hand. "You should take this with you. To remember."

Kalanit isn't sure she'll be able to forget, but she accepts the gift regardless. It's a sand dollar, marred with only the tiniest chip.

"Thank you," Kalanit says, slightly awed.

It's only an hour later, when the girl's brother shows up and escorts them both to where they need to be, that Kalanit realizes she never got the girl's name.

(The rest of the tour finishes up. Kalanit finds her way back home, with extensive notes on her experiences, on the lives of those in the Games with her. She pores over them, struggling to find some sense of meaning.

Her notes are eventually folded away and put on a bookshelf, left for later. Kalanit hopes that someday she'll know what to do with them. She puts the sand dollar to rest on her bedside table.

She will always remember.)

The years pass. Kalanit grows far older than she ever thought she'd get the chance to. She returns to the Capitol, year after year, to mentor tributes that hardly make it far. She sees death play out again and again, and she is just as helpless as before.

And, more than that, she sees the ones that survive. The brutality of the Games directly following hers is enough to make her squeamish, particularly when her tribute was broken in the finale. Then, she watches a girl whose sheer cunningness and resolve lead to her betraying every ally she finds herself with. After that, she watches a girl that poisons and corrupts everything she touches.

(Kalanit has to go home early that year. There are some things she still cannot bear to be reminded of.)

Things change, and yet Kalanit stays the same. She's stuck in place once more. Panem has never seen her as anything but a child, something that can't be taken seriously.

Kalanit tends to her garden, as she does every day. Her attention lingers on the forget-me-nots for longer than necessary.

Remember.

And, suddenly, Kalanit knows what she has to do.

August 6, 123 ADD.

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Proposal

Kalanit,

Apologies for my late response. And for everything else. You gave me a lot to think about. I appreciate that. I find my own perspective is not always enough.

I accept your proposal. If you would like to get a few years off from mentoring, just let me know. I'll make sure you are still provided transportation between the Capitol and Seven during the Games. If you at any point require transportation to another District, just let me know.

Please keep me updated on any developments. If there is anything you find yourself in need of, I am more than willing to help.

Yours,

Z. Emerson