I wake to the rustle of leaves. It's probably about mid-afternoon, and Elm has been keeping watch. Only he's gone now.
"Elm?" I whisper as loud as I dare.
I hear a cannon shot and freak out. I climb down the tree and run through the woods, being careful not to step on any twigs or dead leaves.
Elm steps out of the bushes, bloody axe in hand. He buries the axe-head for moment, getting the blood off.
"Where'd you go?" I ask. "I was scared."
"Sorry," he pants. "The District Eight girl tried to shoot an arrow up at us, but missed. I jumped down and chased her." He takes a shaky breath. "And killed her."
He seems so ashamed to have killed an innocent person. Sure, she tried to kill us, but that's part of the games. It's not fair.
"I'm hungry," he says, clearly wanting to think about something else. "Do we have any squirrel left?"
"Yeah," I say. "We've got some bits left."
There's not much, so we split it among us and move on. We need to keep moving if we're to keep things interesting for the Capitol. The more time we spend sitting around, the less bloodshed there is. Then the Capitol will get bored, and the Gamemakers will send in some mutts or something.
"She begged me," Elm says.
"What? Who?"
"The District Eight girl." He answers, sounding upset. "She begged me to kill her. She didn't want to wait for the Careers to kill her painfully. So I killed her quickly."
So that's why. I couldn't understand how Elm could kill her. I could never have done it. He even admitted he hates killing. He did it because she no longer wanted to live.
"I'm sorry you had to do that." I put my hand on his shoulder and we just look at each other for a moment.
Suddenly, Elm let's out a cry of pain and falls into my arms. He has a spear protruding from his thigh.
I scream, grab my knife, and look in the direction the weapon came from. I slowly come closer, where I find the District 10 boy hiding, weaponless. I look away, hoping I'll stab him in a good spot. But instead, I just feel the knife go through air. I open my eyes and the boy wraps his hand around my throat.
He pushes me against a tree, still choking me. I stab him in the shoulder, making him loosen his grip slightly.
I rip the knife out from his shoulder and swing it out through the air, hoping it will cut something. I'm losing air quickly. I try to cut his stomach but he throws me to the ground near where Elm lays, blood spilling from his wound.
The boy comes closer, looking ready to kill me. I can hardly move. I can't speak to Elm. I'm useless. Elm and I are going to die.
But Elm shakily reaches for the spear in his leg, grunting in pain as he pulls it out, and blindly throws it at the boy. It hits him in the stomach, and he falls to the ground. Elm unsteadily stands and uses his axe to finish him off, and the cannon fires.
This time, he doesn't seem too remorseful over killing the District 10 boy. He just falls to the ground.
I crawl over to him, but still it hurts to speak. I turn him over and look at his leg. The spear must have torn down his leg, making a massive tear in his leg.
I go to my pack and pull out the disinfectant and bandages. When I try to use them, he just pushes my hands away. I try again, and he does the same thing.
"No, Prim." He says. "I've lost too much blood."
I shake my head, tears filling my eyes. I hear another cannon. Someone else must have died. I spread the disinfectant over the gauze and try to place it on his leg. He pushes me away again.
He seems to read my mind. "I was never going to win. My family will do better with one less mouth to feed."
"No," I rasp out, though it feels like my throat's on fire.
"Win for me, okay?"
I can't, I think. I won't win, no matter how much I try.
"And when you do, say hello to my family on the Victory Tour." He says.
He says nothing more, but grips my hand and closes his eyes. When the cannon sounds, I know he's gone. I try to wipe my tears away, but they keep coming. Elm didn't deserve this. He deserved to have a full life with his brothers and sisters.
I place his hands folded over his stomach and leave, taking the axe, the bow and arrows he took from the District 8 girl, and my items.
I turn back to his body and kiss three fingers, holding them high. I quickly turn to go.
Before I get very far, a silver canister floats down from a parachute in front of me. This is the first gift I've gotten. Inside is a thermos full of steaming hot tea. It tastes like pomegranate, and really soothes my throat. I can't say I can speak yet, but it's definitely better.
I settle for the night in a small cave much like the one Peeta and I were in yesterday. It's hard to think that it was only yesterday Peeta ran off, the Careers chasing him.
I hear the anthem play, and the names of the dead tributes appear. The District 8 girl, Elm, the District 9 boy, and the District 10 boy. When Elm's name appears, I lose it again.
I suddenly make a decision. I'm going to find Peeta. He could be dying right now, and I'd be all alone. No Elm, no Peeta to protect me. I realize that I do need him to protect me. But I also need to protect him.
First thing tomorrow I'll set out to look for him. I go to sleep with an empty belly. When I wake, birds are chirping and it feels beautiful. Too bad this is the Hunger Games, nothing is beautiful. I pack my things, get some water in my thermos and canteen, and set off to find Peeta.
I don't go too far before I hear someone following me. I don't look to see who it is, I just break into a run. I run a few yards before an arm reaches out and slams me in the neck. I have bruises from the District 10 boy yesterday, and that doesn't make it feel any better.
I look up and see Cato and Clove from District 2 standing over me. Marvel and the District 4 girl come up behind them, and Glimmer from behind me.
"Going somewhere, Twelve?" Cato asks.
"Pee-ta," I manage to rasp, only able to sound out each syllable.
"Going to find your 'big brother?'" Clove sneers.
"Pee-ta," I repeat, trying to stand, only to be pushed down by Marvel.
There's nothing I can do. It's five against one. I'm doomed.
"He's as good as dead," Glimmer gloats. "Cato saw to that."
I close my eyes, ready for them to kill me. But, I feel nothing. I look up, and see them snickering.
"You think we're going to kill you that quickly and easily?" Clove laughs. "Where's the fun in that? Once you get down to ten tributes, you have to give the audience a good show."
A good show? What does she mean by that? Each of the Careers pulls a different weapon from their belts.
And I think I know what Clove means.
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