Not to brag, but…I think the Everlark scene in this chapter actually turned out kind of good? Maybe I do have a writing career in me.

We all (except Turquoise, who is busy walking on the rim of the geyser like a circus tightrope) spend the rest of the afternoon sparring. We're all exhausted by the end of it, I think. Not surprisingly, Nolan whoops my ass, but H and I are close to evenly matched, and I manage to best Peeta in a duel, even though he's the one who's been using a sword as his main weapon. I credit that win mostly to the lingering exhaustion from his unplanned dip in the lake.

I'm not the only one who notices. "We'll take first watch tonight," Nolan offers, meaning himself and H. While Storm is gone, the two of them are acting as partners. "You look like you need some rest. Go on, get to bed."

Peeta protests a little, but Nolan won't take no for an answer. Eventually defeated, we unroll our sleeping bags by the fire. I pull mine closer to Peeta's than usual. Close enough I can hear his breathing. It's one of very few comforts available to me right now, and I'll take what I can get.

Even though I know I'm tired, sleep evades me. My body is used to later nights and the first watch shift. Or maybe I'm just terrified of what's to come.

Tossing. Turning. Lingering seconds between Peeta's breaths. Eventually that harsh rhythm lulls me to sleep, and I dream no dreams.

Apparently I sleep like the dead, though. I wake at the darkest part of the night- just before dawn- to Turquoise's haunting blue eyes only a few inches away from my own. I flinch back instinctively and actually quite nearly smack her, but she leaps away faster than I can punch.

"That's rude," she whispers. "I just wanted to tell you it's time for your watch shift."

"I think there are less unsettling ways to do that," I hiss, but I'm already starting to get up. Peeta is too.

"Two cannons went off in the middle of the night," Turquoise tells me conversationally.

"And I slept through it?" I ask disbelievingly as I roll up my sleeping bag. "Let me guess. You and James took out the tributes from Eleven."

"She's not making this up, Katniss," Thunder whispers. He's been dead silent thus far, clearly ready to go back to bed. "One right after the other. A little after midnight."

"Oh." I feel bad for automatically assuming she was lying. "So I would guess…"

He nods. "Storm. For better or for worse."

I don't know if there's really a "better" and "worse" between Storm dying and Storm killing. Regardless, it means two less people for us to worry about.

Peeta and I take our places on the watch log, weapons in hand just in case. The news about the cannons makes both of us a little more wary, I think. In the dark, it's hard to tell, but it seems like Peeta is in better shape than he was the night before. A little more lively after a good night's sleep. I can only hope that means there will be no long-term consequences to what I'm referring to as "the incident".

"I had the weirdest dream," he says, punctuated with a yawn. "We were here; everything was like it is. Except you brought in Lady the goat as your token."

"Well, it would sure be nice to have a token that provides food. But I'd never get away with it."

"I think it has to fit in your pocket."

"Prim would be so angry with me."

"What would happen to the goat if you died?"

"Your dream didn't address that?"

He shudders a little. "Didn't get that far, thankfully. Would've made for a lot darker dream."

I am extra grateful to have dreamed of nothing. But I don't want to talk about dying. "Have you seen my actual token?" I ask. "It's not a goat, but it does remind me of my sister."

"I didn't even know you had one."

Well, that's my cue, then. I pull my braid over my shoulder and untie the ribbon. "This was Prim's. She wore it to the Reaping and sent it with me." I somewhat reluctantly pass the striped hair ribbon to Peeta, letting him look at it properly. "It's- it's not much. But it's from home."

"I think it's everything a token should be." He winds the ribbon around one finger. "You must miss her a lot."

It's not a question. Peeta knows how much my sister means to me. Since my father died, everything I've done has been for Primrose. I had only just learned to be selfish again when Thread…when the Games…when Gale…

"Like crazy." We've been talking quietly this whole time, but now my voice barely even registers as a whisper. It's stupid, I know. There's no privacy where I am, no point in trying to keep anything for myself. What I do have should be exploited, anything to get more viewers on our side. I'm sure the Capitol audiences would be thrilled to hear about Prim; they'd love her in the way that everyone who knows her loves her. "…did I ever tell you how we got that goat for her?"

Peeta shakes his head. "No. You tried to, but you couldn't get a word in over Prim. She was too excited to have a goat."

A story, I can do. I can tell it now, even though what happened was actually illegal. They can't do any worse to me now, and I leave out any part of the story that could harm Mom, Prim, or Gale. Actually, I leave Gale out of the story entirely. Nothing good could come from mentioning his name- nothing good came from him mentioning mine.

"You've always been such a good big sister, Katniss," Peeta says fondly. My story seems to have warmed his heart- hopefully it worked on anyone who might be watching us, as well.

"I've always had to be." Oh, no. I'm turning somber again. Changing the subject. "Do you have a token?"

"Oh, no. It all happened so fast…no one who visited me had anything on them to send."

"Rye didn't have a hair ribbon to send with you?"

He laughs, at least. "Oh, no. Couldn't bear to part with even a single one."

Then he does something very strange. He reaches over and tugs on the end of my braid gently- that part's not strange, I guess. That's old, a tradition that's been part of our language for a very long time. The strange part is him running the length of the braid through his hand and sliding off the elastic that's holding it together.

My first instinct is to protest, but I don't. For no discernible reason, even though it's really the opposite of what I should actually be doing, my guard has dropped below its usual level. I never wear my hair down, not even at home, when life is good. But for some reason, I'm inclined to do so now; I even run my fingers through the loosed braid, ensuring my hair spreads over my shoulders, until I'm sure I look nothing like myself.

Maybe this is her, the other Katniss. Maybe this is what she looks like.

In all reality, I'm sure it's not that pretty of a picture. I haven't washed in days, aside from wiping my hands in clean snow once in a while. Both of us are battered and bruised from the hazardous nature the arena; hell, Peeta nearly died a few hours ago. And yet, the moment itself feels beautiful. Even if we are not. I can hardly see him anyway; I won't be able to until dawn.

"Maybe you're my token," Peeta jokes. At least, I think he's joking. His tone is deadly serious.

"Should I take that as a compliment?" I try to joke back. My voice comes out annoyingly breathy- that's not what I'm about, but I feel like I'm, quite rapidly, losing control.

"Consider it a burden," he advises, and before I can register what he really means by that, we're both leaning in.

I remember Haymitch telling us not to rush. We're not rushing. This is the moment, our moment, that we've been waiting for, and it feels right in a hundred ways to have his lips on mine. Even more right when he cups my face in his hands, like I am his whole world. Like he loves me for real.

I jolt back from the thought and Peeta takes this as a cue to pull away. He's biting his lip, nervous. Wondering if he's done the right thing. No one can answer that for him- least of all me, as I am more confused than ever.

I lock that confusion away, deep inside of me. If we survive this, maybe I can worry about the blurred line between what's real and what isn't, but for now, there's only one answer. Peeta knows that, and so do I.

"Better than our first kiss?" he asks in a hushed voice, proving my point.

As if something has possessed me, as if I am no longer myself anymore, I know exactly what to say in reply. "It's always better when it means more."

"The first one meant a lot to me too."

My cheeks burn as I remember it. The middle of the night, alone- the scenario was not much different than the one we're in right now. The main difference is that last year we were watching the Hunger Games instead of living them. And to this day, I still don't know what made him decide to kiss me.

"You could have told me then."

"I was waiting for the right time."

"And the right time is now?"

"Now might be the only time we have left."

That part is true, whether we're actually in love or not. There is arguably little life left either of us can count on.

"Then I'm glad I get to spend it with you."

This time I make the first move; I grab Peeta's shoulder and slowly pull him to me. He makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat- quite reasonable; I didn't expect this from myself either- but he kisses me back like this is exactly what he planned. If he had a plan. I didn't have a plan; I just have a series of instincts that I act on more often than not.

This is a pleasant one, at least. Peeta's lips are soft and the way he kisses me is gentle and demanding at the same time. If I could just forget the circumstances, forget who he is and why we're doing it, it would be a fantastic kiss.

I just can't shake the feeling of wariness about the road we're going down.

Even worse, I can't completely shake the part of me that wonders what Gale would think.

§

There are tears in Effie's eyes. "Oh my stars," she murmurs, dabbing them away with a handkerchief. "They're adorable. And they've kissed before? Did you know that, Haymitch?"

Haymitch rolls his eyes. Of course Effie would be taken in by the star-crossed lovers ruse. At least that means it's working. "They're acting, sweetheart. That first kiss? They made it up get more people hooked on their story."

"Absolutely not," she declares. "Don't you see how comfortable they are with each other? How natural their every move is? Of course they've kissed before."

"Their story is that they're best friends," Haymitch reminds her. "They're comfortable with each other because of that. And first and foremost, they're idiots, because they did their kissing scene in the middle of the night when no one's watching!"

"I'm sure they just can't help themselves, Haymitch," Effie reasons. "They're in love!"

Haymitch just groans. He hopes that if he stops responding, Effie will stop talking, but apparently that's not how it works. She just moves on to bugging Gale instead of him, and it doesn't take a genius to know that's a bad idea.

"Gale, I need your opinion. You've been in love before, right?" Effie presses. "What do you think- are they in love, or are they just faking it?"

Gale, who has not said a word all night, answers with a glare that could melt the hardest stone.

§

Close to sunrise, I hear something. Peeta and I instinctively shuffle away from each other even though we're not doing anything wrong- we didn't spend the whole night kissing, obviously. We're not stupid, and Peeta's greatest gift has always been knowing when to quit.

For a moment, I think I'm imagining it, but there it is again. A rustling in the distance, pine branches brushing against each other. Then, a sequence of four notes, whistled rapidly and desperately.

"Storm," Peeta and I say at the same time. The sequence repeats over and over, more urgently every time. A warning.

We shake the others awake and get our weapons ready. I'm almost certain the whistler is Storm, and if she was only returning to kill us, I doubt she'd be so clearly announcing her arrival, but we have to be prepared for anything. We have to be ready to shoot.

I'm so ready to shoot that when Storm does burst into camp, I nearly nail her with an arrow before she can explain herself. She raises her hands in the air, clearly out of breath. She must have run a long ways. "Not…not me," she pants. "Them…they're coming."

"What?" asks Thunder. He's never been one to mince words.

"The other pack. They're after me."

She definitely looks worse for wear. Open scratches on her face, a large rip in the shoulder of her jacket, completely weaponless. I assume that, if she had a weapon, no amount of tributes would have been able to get the drop on her.

No more time to ponder that. Rustling in the trees indicates her pursuers are nearly here. My heart rate spikes; my finger quivers on the bowstring as I realize this time I must shoot without any hesitation at all.

There are five of them, the rival pack. They move as one into the clearing, weapons raised and looking just as worse for wear as Storm. As promised, I let my arrow fly, striking tall and skinny Emmer in the shoulder. It's him, his district partner, the guy from Eight and both from Seven. They're all armed to the teeth- I don't know how they have so much stuff; it must be from sponsors- but they do something very odd. Instead of making any sort of charge, Aspen from Seven- who seems to be the leader, despite being quite small- cries out, "RETREAT!"

They all turn and flee, even Emmer, clutching his shoulder. They continue to move as one inseparable unit, as if this is what they planned the whole time. How odd, I think, but there's little time to really consider it with how fast life seems to be moving right now.

Storm shakes a fist as they scatter back into the forest. "COWARDS!" she screeches, even though this all started with her running from them. She doesn't waste any time. She darts to the spare weapons pile and paws through it, selecting a metal javelin. "Well?" she barks, looking at the rest of us expectantly. "Let's get them!"

"Um, I don't think that's a very good idea," Turquoise informs her. Despite being recently roused from sleep, she seems incredibly perky. I assume this is a bad sign.

"Why not?" Storm snaps. Her jaw is set and she looks ready to turn her new weapon on her allies. "They saw us and they ran. That means they're scared of us; that means we can beat them! Let's go!"

"Yeah, I actually don't think that's why," says Turquoise, annoyingly confidant as usual.

For some reason, Storm actually humors her, although the twitch of her eyelid indicates she is only moments away from snapping. "Then why?"

Now Turquoise gets this smug look on her face. I have grown to hate that look. She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks her head. "Look up."

Not that I'm REALLY paying attention but I think the chapters just keep getting shorter til we get to the end. Which is coming up very soon actually.