I should probably stop filling my author's notes with life updates but guess what, I like doing that! Yes, I have an actual journal, but it's more fun to have an audience although it's kind of like I'm holding you hostage! "Oh, you wanna read my Hunger Games fic? THEN SIT THROUGH A COUPLE PARAGRAPHS ON WHAT MY HORSIES DID YESTERDAY!"

I also don't think my author's notes really match up with the writing style of the actual fic but I promise you I WAS the one to write this.

Horse Madge ate from my hand yesterday! The way she snorted at me after made it clear it was an accident and she will not be doing it again. But she follows me around the pen so it's clear she wants to connect with me; she's just scared out of her mind right now. That's rescues for ya.

Katniss

We land in the outskirts of the Capitol. It's about time- several hours of jostling around in the cargo hold did nothing good for any of us, especially Storm. She doesn't look so tough now, with her face turning a very unique shade of green. I make a mental note to avoid traveling with her whenever possible, not that I have a choice about it now.

I waste no time getting to work; it's good fortune the cargo door can be opened from the inside. If we were discovered as stowaways, the crew would probably recognize us instead of shooting us on sight, but still not a risk I feel we need to take. And again, the factor of time. Every minute we spend puttering around on the ship is a minute between me and Prim. Therefore, we must be as efficient as possible…within reason.

I'm not sure what to expect when we get off the ship. A war zone? A posh upper crust city? Turns out, it's a little bit of both. White-armored Peacekeepers and gray-clad rebels are scuffling here and there, while bright-colored shoppers totter around in high heels. The Capitol's general public is not very involved in the defense, I'm noticing. We should have started this war a long time ago.

Then there's us. Unfortunately, we did not have the resources to disguise ourselves, so in addition to being mildly famous and recognizable, we are very visibly associated with District Thirteen. Our weapons also make us very conspicuous! I'm beginning to wish I had insisted Storm bring anything other than the machine gun; there's just no way to hide that.

At first, we try to fly under the radar- stealth option number one. After several Peacekeepers jump out at us, we are forced to move on to stealth option number two: taking them out before they notice us. It's not something I'm proud of by any means, but it is something I view as necessary. Nothing is getting between me and Prim anymore- not the Peacekeepers and definitely not my morals.

But…there's a little bit of a problem. Sometimes we're not quite fast enough silencing these PKs, and sometimes passersby start screaming, therefore alerting more Peacekeepers to our location. Which is bad. Like, really bad.

"We need to get out of here," Peeta tells me through gritted teeth. "Running is not going to cut it for much longer!"

"I only have so many bullets!" Storm cries in frustration.

They are both right, although I sincerely hope Storm has a backup weapon somewhere on her person. I may not have wanted her in this journey, but now that we're stuck with her, I'm kind of counting on her to keep us alive.

More footsteps, more gunshots from behind us. Peeta's right; we can only run for so long. "Steal a car?" I suggest frantically.

"I don't know how to drive!" Storm calls back. I panic. "But that won't stop me!"

One small perk of the uproar we've caused is that many Capitol citizens have panicked and abandoned their vehicles. Storm picks one with all its doors left open and jumps in the driver's seat. Peeta and I hop in the back and slam the doors while Storm revs the engine. Why did we agree to let her drive?

There are perks to it, I guess. She's ruthless and has no qualms about breaking every traffic law in the book. Not that it really matters- we're already wanted for treason, so why not add "speeding" to that list? We're also being shot at, so a quick getaway is kind of important.

However, she's taking some of these turns pretty fast, and we've grazed at least three light posts so far. Wouldn't it be ironic if we survived the Hunger Games, District Thirteen, and a stowaway situation, then get killed in a car accident? Eventually, we manage to pull away from our pursuers, but the sound of gunfire just keeps getting louder. Turquoise was right- the war is beginning now. And I am really glad we are not going to be a part of it.

I frantically rotate the map in my hands, trying to figure out how to get where we're going. It's a little bit difficult to get a handle on directions when you're going a hundred miles an hour and driving as unpredictably as possible to get the feds off your tail. When applicable, I call out "left!" or "right!" and Storm obeys- this is the most agreeable she's ever been, but she's visibly having too much fun. If I wasn't so grateful, I'd be terrified right now.

I'm even more grateful when we make it to the city limits. It doesn't mean she slows down-not even close- but it does mean there are fewer obstacles. The road is bumpy; I doubt it sees much use. What reason would Capitol citizens have to leave the Capitol? They have their world and we have ours. Regardless, I prefer the bumps to the hairpin turns and near misses of pedestrians. While we are still most definitely in danger and on the run, this has a distinctly safer feel to it.

I don't really feel like we've made it until I can no longer see the city when I look back. Then I can finally take a deep breath and maybe, in the slightest way possible, enjoy the ride.

Storm's enjoying it, definitely. She rolls the windows all the way down and bobs her head along with the radio we can't figure out how to turn off, like this is just an ordinary day in the life of Storm Talisman.

The roar of the wind makes it hard to talk, and I guess I'm somewhat glad for that. It still seems like anything we say out loud could jinx us, and we need all the luck we can get right now. In lieu of conversation, Peeta and I pore over the map quietly. We don't need to be told we're out of our depth here- we know. I'm fully aware of how little I've seen of the world, and to be thrown into a part of the world that no one has really seen only makes it more difficult. We're lucky to have a road to follow, and I'm guessing this road only exists to haul building supplies to the arena- what's left of it, that is.

If this is how lost we feel, I can only imagine how it is for Prim. There's that familiar pang in my heart again, the one that reminds me how much I miss her. Not that I can ever really forget. She's on my mind near-constantly, and the incident with the mines has only made it more persistent. Did she know what she was getting into, when she helped set up the arena's downfall? Somehow I doubt it. Prim doesn't like the Capitol or the Games any more than I do- does anyone?- but she doesn't have a rebel's mind. I can't see her advocating for something with a chance of doing so much more harm than good.

And yet, it worked about as well as it could have, didn't it? Whether she knew what she was doing or not, I'm proud of her.

Now she only has to survive until I can reach her and make sure nothing bad happens to her ever again.

When my worry starts to get the better of me, I turn my attention towards the road. I can see mountains in the distance- that's where my sister is; I can feel it. (Also that is what the map indicates, but, like, I can feel it.) We're moving along at a good clip. Maybe we'll even make it there before sundown.

My hopes are dashed when an hour later, the car shudders and slowly peters to a stop. Storm stamps on the pedals. "What is wrong with this thing?! Go!"

Peeta cranes his neck to look over her shoulder. "It's out of fuel."

"How would you know?" she snarls at him.

"It says it right there, out of fuel."

I groan. So much for good luck. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know; I already told you I can't drive!"

Yes, that has been made abundantly clear. "Maybe it's rechargeable?" Peeta suggests optimistically while Storm gets out to check the wheels. Obviously, neither of us can provide an answer. In District Twelve, it's rare to even see a car, and I'm sure this fancy Capitol vehicle we've pilfered is completely different from those anyway. On the off chance this thing is rechargeable, none of us have any idea of how to do that.

"Well, I guess we're walking," I declare, when Storm's kicking the tires has done us no good. In an alternate universe, perhaps we could have prepared for this situation, but I don't think complaints have a leg to stand on right now. The car still got us more than halfway to the mountains- hopefully, halfway to Prim.

"I hate walking," Storm complains when we've gone no more than ten steps down the road.

"You begged to come with us," I remind her. "You knew what you were getting into."

This trip has been undeniably full of surprises, but I don't know what she expected. For things to go well?

"At least we just have to walk from here to the mountains," Peeta says, optimistic as always. "…hopefully."

If we get to the mountains and can't find our siblings, I don't know what we will do. All of this has been based on the assumption that they are near their original location and willing to be found. That could be completely untrue.

But then again, what else do we have to go on?

Storm gestures to the mountains furiously. "That's still a long ways away! Quit sounding happy about it!"

"Oh, wow. Forgive me for having a positive attitude."

And here I thought I would be the problem.

"How about a quiet attitude? Can you manage that, smarty-pants?"

"Really? We have this long and so-far-boring journey ahead of us, and you want us to do it all in dead silence?"

"Well, it sounds pretty nice right now!" Storm says defensively. She hunches her shoulders and quickens her pace, putting some distance between us.

As for what I expected to happen? This. Exactly this.

"For the first time in recorded history, your charming personality has failed you," I tell Peeta, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

He cracks a smile, but I think it's more for my benefit than anything else. "Well, even I have my limits. And Storm has pushed me over all of them."

"Happens to the best of us," I assure him. It has certainly happened to me plenty of times.

"How far do we have to go?"

I unfold the map again and take a look. "…I don't know," I conclude eventually. "This map isn't scaled very well."

"Well, it's not like we know exactly where we're going anyway."

"Just our luck, right?"

"I think we've dealt with worse."

"Much worse," I agree. We might not have any supplies or a real idea of where we're going, but at least we don't have twenty-two other kids hunting us down this time. And, for the first time, we are not under anyone else's watchful eye. Finally, we have the chance to relax- well, not really relax- and be ourselves without worrying about the consequences.

I guess that means the star-crossed lovers ruse is over. It hits me with a shock and maybe a little bit of sadness- just because I've gotten so used to it, probably. You know it's bad when you've started getting attached to the lies.

I decide that we just don't have to talk about it. It's not like that much has to change, either way.

Although, judging by how far off the mountains still seem to be, if we wanted to talk, we'd have plenty of time.

§

I'd prefer to walk all day and all night, but not everyone shares that sentiment. Actually, the second I even bring it up, Storm throws herself on the ground and refuses to walk another step, like a toddler. I turn to Peeta for backup, but he gives me this pained look. "A break might be nice. And maybe some food?"

I sigh heavily like this is a great inconvenience to me, even though I'm tired and hungry too. All of that just seems small when I'm comparing it to my sister's safety. "Well, alright. I guess it's not the worst idea to stop for the night."

We move off the road to make camp. Until we reach the foothills, there's not much for shelter, but we settle down under a small clump of pines. It's better than nothing, I guess- and at least the weather is nicer than last time we were camping. See, I can be optimistic too.

"I'll see what I can find for food," I offer, unslinging my bow.

"I'll make a fire," Peeta adds.

We both look to Storm expectantly. She just grunts in reply.

Once I get away from the road and away from camp, it's not too hard to find a suitable meal. Beneath the plain exterior, this place is teeming with life, and nothing here is used to being hunted. I take out two rabbits with as many arrows and skin them with Storm's dagger (so she did bring a backup weapon) before roasting them over the fire.

"It's nice to have an actual fire," Storm admits grudgingly, her mouth full of rabbit. "I don't care what any of you thought. That geyser sucked."

"Hey, it got the job done," Peeta says defensively. He's probably just protective because the heat of that geyser saved his life once. "Remember when it erupted all over Turquoise?"

"You mean, all over all of us?" Storm reminds us. "And it ruined dinner."

He sighs. "I guess it wasn't as good as I remember it."

"Not many things are." In that sentence, Storm sounds even more bitter than usual. I don't know how she manages it. She finishes her portion and tosses the bones to the side. "Sure hope that doesn't attract any predators."

"We'll have to keep watch overnight." I say somewhat reluctantly. Keeping watch will really slow us down, but better to be slowed down than to be eaten by wolves. The only other option would be skimping on the amount of sleep we get, and that seems like a bad idea too. Storm is cranky enough when she's not overtired, and we need to keep our strength up for the long walk ahead of us.

"Well, one of you can take the first shift," Storm decides with a yawn. "I am going to bed."

No time to argue. Storm leaves the fire and curls up under a tree, even though the sun has just barely set. I guess it's been a long day for all of us, and I am hoping to get an early start tomorrow.

Still, neither Peeta or I makes a move to leave the fire yet, although I do get up and throw another log on it. "Cold?" he asks when I sit back down, opening his arm as if to wrap it around me.

I take it and lean into it, although maybe there's something wrong with that; I don't know. "...no," I confess. "I just want a big fire." It feels dumb to say it out loud. "I'm hoping Prim will see it."

I know exactly what Storm would say to that ("ha! I bet the Peacekeepers'll be here by morning!") but Peeta just nods. "Oh, that makes sense. We should be visible from pretty far away."

As long as they're looking in the right direction and as long as they know that it's us and not the Capitol and they don't just run…

The gathering darkness makes my gesture of goodwill seem all the more futile. For all we know, Prim and the others are already long gone. Maybe we're just wasting everyone's time, and setting ourselves up for heartbreak.

"Uh…Katniss?"

I blink a couple times. I hadn't realized I'd stopped listening. Must have been staring off into space and wallowing again- happens all the time. "Sorry, what?"

"I was just saying, if it was you who escaped the arena and the rebels never came to pick us up, what would you do?"

He's trying to distract me; I just know it. But I humor him and give him an answer anyway. "First priority would be evading capture. So we'd have to put some distance between ourselves and the arena. It'd be mostly air surveillance we have to avoid- this road is barely used and I doubt they'd start using it now- so as long as we had tree or rock cover, we'd be fine. Unless they're using any kind of heat-seeking tech. If that's the case, it's all over immediately."

Peeta stiffens. I think he was hoping I wouldn't talk myself into a situation where all of us die. "Well…I didn't see any craters or smoke up ahead."

"That's a good sign," I tell him, even though the only sign I really care about is Prim sprinting at me for a hug. "But in all seriousness, in this hypothetical situation, we wouldn't be able to hunker down for long. Because eventually they'd find us, no matter how well we're hidden. So we'd have to start walking home."

He looks a little bit alarmed. "Walking home? To Twelve? From here?"

I shrug. "Well, where else do we have to go?"

That one seems to stump him, and his shoulders droop. "Well, we've seen worse I guess."

I wonder how long we can keep using that to rationalize bad things that happen to us. Hypothetical or actual.

"...but at least in real life, we have Reprogrammed James," he concludes.

I pull the robotic lizard out of my pocket and turn him over in my hand. Now that I've met the real, alive James, the artificial version we possess seems weird. And very small. But I trust Turquoise- I know he will fulfill his purpose. After all, she's never let us down before, and I saw how well it worked the first time.

"He's a decent lizard," I say finally. "I can't wait to show Prim."

Because she's never seen anything like it, because she loves all animals, because she's my sister and she's in danger and she's always at the forefront of my mind.

Peeta nods agreeably, probably because he's an agreeable person more than anything. Even though I'm not cold, I scoot closer to him on the log and lay my head on his shoulder. It feels a little bit like the wrong thing to do- there's no cameras, no political necessity or other valid reason to keep telling this fake story- but it also feels, for some unknown reason, exactly right.

We can talk about it later, I reason, and make it make sense then. As of right now, curled up at Peeta's side is exactly where I want to be, and if his lips gently brush the top of my head, that is no one's business but our own.

Enjoy :)