The next morning, Rye woke with a stiff neck and a dull ache in his arm. His back was pressed against the rough bark of the tree, his legs still stretched out, and Sadie was still asleep with her head in his lap.
For a brief, disorienting moment, he almost forgot where they were. His fingers were still lightly tangled in her braid, and her breathing was soft and steady against him. He could almost pretend they were back home.
But then the morning light filtered through the trees, and he heard the distant, eerie cry of a bird that didn't sound quite right—likely one of the Capitol's mutations. The biting scent of damp earth and blood still lingered faintly in the air. And he remembered.
They were still here.
He exhaled softly, brushing his knuckles lightly over Sadie's temple. She stirred slightly at his touch, her lashes fluttering faintly before her eyes opened. Sleepy and unfocused at first, but the moment her gaze settled on him, she relaxed.
"Morning," he murmured softly, offering her a faint smile.
She blinked up at him, disoriented, and slowly pushed herself upright. She rubbed at her eyes, and Rye could tell immediately how sore she was. Her movements were stiff, her limbs slow with exhaustion. She barely managed to stifle a yawn as she stretched out her legs.
"Hey," she mumbled groggily, her voice thick with sleep.
Before he could say anything else, something caught his eye.
From the corner of his vision, he spotted it—a silver parachute drifting down through the trees, the morning sun glinting faintly off the fabric.
For a second, he didn't believe it.
But Sadie saw it too. She was suddenly wide awake, scrambling to her knees as her eyes widened.
"Rye," she breathed, grabbing his arm.
They were both on their feet in seconds, moving quickly but quietly through the brush to where the parachute was floating down. Sadie reached it first, catching it carefully in her hands.
They exchanged a look—brief but telling—before she carefully untied the knot.
Rye felt his stomach tighten as the fabric unraveled.
And then he saw it.
A large bundle of food, tightly wrapped.
His breath caught slightly. It wasn't just a tiny bit of bread or a container of broth. It was real food.
Bread, dried meat, cheese, and even some dried fruit. Enough to last them for days if they were careful.
Sadie stared at it, her eyes wide in disbelief. Slowly, she looked at him, her voice breathless.
"Haymitch," she whispered, her hands trembling slightly around the bundle.
Rye swallowed hard, his throat tight. He nodded once.
He kept his promise.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just stared at the gift in Sadie's hands, the weight of what it meant sinking in.
Then Rye exhaled sharply and took her hand, gently tugging her back toward the tree line.
"Come on," he murmured. "Let's get out of the open."
They moved quickly and silently through the trees, putting some distance between themselves and the parachute's landing spot. They finally settled at the base of a large oak, where the underbrush was thick enough to conceal them.
Once they were safely hidden, they unwrapped the bundle.
Rye's stomach clenched as the scent of the bread hit him. His mouth watered, and he realized he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten something that smelled so good.
Sadie was already tearing off a chunk of bread, her fingers trembling slightly. She handed half to him without saying a word.
For a few moments, they ate in silence.
They didn't gorge themselves, even though they were both starving. Rye chewed slowly, forcing himself to take small bites, ignoring the way his body screamed for more.
Sadie did the same.
Between them, they laid out the food carefully, dividing it into smaller portions. Dried meat, cheese, and fruit. Sadie took her time, portioning everything into neat little piles, her movements slow and methodical.
She didn't speak, but Rye knew why.
They were rationing.
Making sure they had enough to last.
Finally, when they were both full—but not overly so—they carefully wrapped the remaining food in the parachute fabric.
Rye leaned back against the tree, watching as Sadie double-knotted the bundle with shaking fingers. He could see the faint sheen of sweat on her brow, her movements still unsteady. She was still exhausted, her limbs trembling slightly from the lingering tension of the day before.
But she was focused.
Her fingers moved deftly, tying the fabric into a secure knot. She was silent, her face unreadable.
When she finally finished, she sat back on her heels and exhaled shakily.
For a few moments, they just sat there, side by side, their backs pressed against the rough bark of the tree.
Sadie let out a breathy, humorless laugh, shaking her head slightly.
"A whole bundle of food," she muttered softly, her voice low and incredulous. "I was expecting, like… half a roll."
Rye huffed softly, glancing at her.
"Well, you did kill Glimmer yesterday," he said dryly, though his voice was soft, his tone meant to be light. "Guess that made you look impressive."
She snorted faintly, but the sound was hollow.
Her hands curled around her knees, and she rested her chin against them, her eyes distant. She didn't look at him.
Rye's expression softened slightly.
He reached over, lacing his fingers with hers.
Her grip was weak, but she didn't pull away.
They sat in silence for a while, their fingers loosely intertwined.
Eventually, Rye exhaled softly, squeezing her hand.
"We'll stretch it out," he murmured quietly, nodding toward the wrapped bundle. "Make it last."
Sadie glanced at him then, her eyes still clouded with exhaustion and worry. But she gave a faint, shaky nod.
"Okay," she whispered.
And they sat there for a little while longer, their hands still tangled together, holding on.
They moved carefully through the forest, their footsteps light on the soft earth. The morning was still young, but the arena was already stifling. Humidity clung to their skin, and the faintest sheen of sweat clung to Sadie's neck and collarbone as they walked.
They were following the faint sound of trickling water, hoping to refill their canteens at the stream they had found the day before. Rye kept his eyes sharp, scanning the treeline for any movement.
Sadie was walking a few steps ahead, her braid loose and messy from the night before, tendrils of dark hair clinging to her damp skin. She was quieter than usual, her eyes distant. She still hadn't said much that morning.
Rye didn't push her. He knew she was still carrying yesterday—the blood on her hands, the girl she had killed.
So, they walked in silence.
Then they heard it.
A scream.
High-pitched. Young. Terrified.
Sadie stopped dead in her tracks, her body tensing. She whirled around, her eyes wide and alert, meeting Rye's immediately.
Neither of them said a word.
And then the scream came again.
Without hesitation, Sadie took off running.
"Sadie—wait!" Rye hissed, scrambling after her, but she was already moving fast, sprinting through the underbrush.
Branches scraped at their arms and faces as they tore through the trees. Rye's breath came short and fast, his legs burning from the sudden burst of speed, but he didn't slow.
The sound of struggling grew louder.
And then they saw her.
Rue.
She was on the ground, pinned beneath the girl from District 4. The older girl was straddling her, one knee digging into Rue's chest as she pressed the tip of her knife to the small girl's throat. Rue's tiny hands were scrabbling at the girl's wrist, trying to push the blade away. Her eyes were wide with terror, her face slick with tears.
Sadie didn't hesitate.
Without breaking stride, she whipped the knife from her belt and sent it flying.
The blade struck the girl from 4 in the neck with a sickening thunk.
Her eyes widened in shock, blood already spilling down her throat as she released a strangled gasp. She wavered, choking, her fingers clawing at the hilt embedded in her neck. She gurgled once, twice—then slumped sideways off Rue, landing on the ground with a heavy thud.
Rue gasped sharply, coughing and choking as she scrambled backward, her small hands clawing at the earth.
Sadie was already on her knees beside her.
"Hey—hey, you're okay," she gasped, her hands trembling as she reached for the girl. "You're okay. I've got you."
But Rue was whimpering softly, clutching her stomach.
It wasn't until Rye came skidding to Sadie's side that he saw the thin shaft of the spear protruding from Rue's torso.
Rye's heart dropped.
"Shit," he breathed.
Sadie's hands were already trembling as she pressed them against Rue's stomach, trying to stem the blood. The tiny girl's chest heaved, her eyes wide and panicked, her breaths shallow and quick.
"No, no, no, no, no," Sadie choked, her voice breaking as she pressed her palms more firmly over the wound. Rue let out a thin, reedy whimper, her small body trembling beneath Sadie's hands.
Rye's throat tightened painfully.
"Sadie," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
She didn't look at him.
Her hands were slick with Rue's blood, trembling as she pressed them desperately against the wound.
"Help me," she gasped. "We can stop it. We can—we just have to—"
"Sadie," Rye said again, gently but firmly, reaching out to touch her arm.
She jerked away from him sharply, shaking her head.
"No," she snapped, her voice cracking. "No, we can save her."
But they couldn't.
Rue's tiny chest was rising and falling in shallow, uneven bursts. Her small hands clung weakly to Sadie's wrist, her grip feeble and trembling.
And then her eyes met Sadie's.
Big, brown, and wet with tears.
Her lips parted slightly.
"Sadie," she whispered, her voice barely a breath.
And Sadie froze.
For one terrible moment, she just stared down at the tiny girl beneath her hands. The child whose body she was failing to save.
Rue's breaths were becoming fainter, her trembling slowing. Her small fingers loosened slightly against Sadie's wrist.
Sadie's hands started to shake violently.
Her throat tightened painfully, and her eyes filled with tears.
And then she did the only thing she could think to do.
She swallowed hard, her hands still trembling, and she leaned down.
And she sang.
Her voice was soft and shaky at first, trembling as badly as her bloodied hands.
But she sang.
"Deep in the meadow, under the willow,
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow…"
Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn't stop.
Rye sat back slightly, his chest tightening as he watched her.
Sadie's voice was low and broken, raw with emotion. She pressed her palm softly against Rue's cheek, her thumb stroking away a tear as she continued.
"Lay down your head, and close your eyes,
And when they open, the sun will rise…"
Rue's eyes were glassy and unfocused, her breaths faint. Her small, blood-smeared fingers loosened against Sadie's wrist.
Her tiny lips parted slightly, but no sound came.
"Here it's safe, here it's warm…
Here the daisies guard you from every harm…"
And then, softly, Rue's eyes closed.
Her small fingers slipped from Sadie's wrist.
Her chest stilled.
And she was gone.
Sadie's voice faltered and broke, a raw, strangled sob catching in her throat. Her hands were still pressed to Rue's tiny frame, trembling violently, streaked with blood.
Rye slowly, silently reached out and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
Her whole body convulsed with sobs. She let out a broken, keening sound, her fingers curling against Rue's still body.
Rye pressed his face into her hair, holding her tightly, his own chest tightening painfully.
They sat like that for a long time, their arms wrapped around each other, clinging to Rue's small, lifeless form.
And then, finally, Rye reached out with trembling hands and gently closed Rue's eyes.
He and Sadie gathered flowers—bright yellow and purple blossoms—and carefully, reverently, they wove them into Rue's hair and laid them across her small frame.
They sat in silence, hands still smeared with Rue's blood, their fingers trembling as they placed the last flower.
The forest was growing darker by the minute, the sun dipping low behind the treetops. A heavy stillness settled over the arena, broken only by the faint chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves in the distance.
Sadie's legs ached from running, her throat raw and dry, but she didn't care. She just kept moving, her hand locked tightly around Rye's. Neither of them spoke. The silence between them was thick and heavy, neither willing to break it.
After what felt like hours, they stumbled upon the cave.
It was tucked behind a dense patch of undergrowth, partially hidden by a thicket of wild ferns. The mouth of the cave was narrow and low, just wide enough for them to slip through, but once inside, it opened into a decent-sized chamber. The walls were jagged and cool, and the stone floor was uneven, but it was dry and deep enough to hide them from view.
Sadie exhaled sharply, leaning forward with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Her limbs were trembling from exhaustion, and her throat ached with the effort of holding back the sobs that still threatened to choke her.
Rye slumped against the cave wall, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Neither of them said it aloud, but they both knew it: they couldn't take another fight today. Not after Rue.
"This'll do," Rye murmured hoarsely, his voice rough with exhaustion.
Sadie nodded weakly, still too out of breath to speak.
They sat in silence for a moment, both too worn out to do anything but breathe.
Eventually, Sadie pushed herself to her feet and rifled through her pack. She pulled out the sleeping bags, her fingers shaking slightly as she unrolled them. The material was thin but sturdy, and as she stared down at them, she realized something.
She fumbled with the zippers, brow furrowing slightly.
"What are you doing?" Rye asked tiredly, watching her from where he sat slouched against the wall.
She didn't answer at first, her fingers deftly working the zippers apart. After a moment, she smiled faintly.
"They… they unzip all the way," she murmured softly, half to herself.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes tired but warm.
"We can sleep together," she whispered.
Rye's eyes softened slightly, and without a word, he pushed himself upright and crawled over to her.
She spread one sleeping bag out on the cold stone floor, laying it flat like a makeshift mattress. Then she unzipped the second one fully, draping it over the top like a blanket.
Together, they crawled onto the sleeping bag mattress, their bodies stiff and sore as they settled down.
Rye laid down first, exhaling softly as he stretched out on his side. He was still trembling slightly, the events of the day clinging to him like a lead weight.
Without a word, Sadie slid in behind him, curling her body around his.
She pulled him against her chest, her arms sliding around his middle, one hand resting lightly over his heart. His back pressed against her front, his head tucked just below her chin.
She held him tightly, her arms firm but gentle, anchoring him.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Rye exhaled softly.
"You're warm," he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath.
Sadie pressed her lips softly to the back of his head, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
She wasn't warm. She was freezing. Her fingers were still stiff and numb from the chill in the arena air, but she didn't tell him that. If he thought she was warm, she'd let him believe it.
The sky outside darkened into black, and soon, the anthem began to play.
The familiar, haunting notes drifted through the forest, faint but unmistakable.
Sadie lifted her head slightly, her chin resting on Rye's shoulder as they both stared out toward the cave entrance.
The faces of the dead illuminated the sky.
Sadie's throat tightened painfully.
The first face belonged to the girl from District 4—the one Sadie had killed.
She clenched her jaw slightly, her grip on Rye tightening instinctively.
Then came a boy—District 10. Sadie barely registered his face, her mind too heavy with grief and guilt.
Rue's face appeared first. Her wide, brown eyes stared down at them, unmoving and unblinking. Her lips were slightly parted, frozen forever in the expression she wore when she drew her final breath.
But there was no Marvel.
Rye's breath caught slightly.
"He's still alive," he murmured softly.
Sadie didn't say anything, but she felt her stomach twist.
He was still out there.
Still hunting them.
Rye exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in her arms. Gently, he reached down, covering her hand with his.
And then he pressed it against his chest, right over his heart.
"Still here," he whispered hoarsely.
Her eyes stung.
Slowly, she rested her forehead against the back of his head, her breath warm against his skin.
She could feel the slow, steady thump of his heart beneath her palm, grounding her.
For the first time since Rue's death, she exhaled without trembling.
After a while, Rye's breaths grew slower and heavier. His body, still pressed firmly against hers, gradually relaxed.
And then, quietly, he drifted into sleep.
Sadie remained awake.
She lay with her arms wrapped tightly around him, her cheek resting against his hair.
Her eyes were open, fixed on the entrance of the cave, keeping watch.
Her muscles ached and her eyelids were heavy, but she didn't dare let herself drift.
She listened to the steady rhythm of Rye's breathing, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her arms.
Her fingers slowly threaded through his hair, soothingly, gently, her thumb tracing small, aimless circles against his temple.
And as he slept soundly in her arms, she pressed her lips to the crown of his head, holding him just a little tighter.