My heart pounds in my chest as I fly through the waves, arms desperately moving through the water as if this small thing could save my life, like maybe if I stroke hard enough, I would levitate out of the water and into the sky, floating off into the heavens, where I would be safe. 

Terra wouldn't be safe, though, so it wouldn't be worth it. 

I make it to the other side, feet scrambling on shifting sand, eventually finding footing, pausing for a moment as I stabilize myself and then rush off into the trash. 

"Try and see where they're coming from," Terra says, her words echoing in my mind. "Get back to their camp, if you can. They deserve some karma for destroying our supplies."

She had also assured me that I didn't have to, that we could ransack their base together once Terra was done with them on the island, but I'd barely heard her. Of course, I would try to find their base. However cruel Vulcan and Orion had been, those supplies had been the source of my life, as well, and Taura's little group was why me and Terra were surviving off freshly-caught fish and water that was too quickly running out. 

Was that their plan, then? Hopefully have us all kill each other with wrongly-aimed blame and Vulcan's anger, but if not, smoke us out? Even with two less careers in our group, me and Terra can't survive for long. They knew we'd have to make a move eventually. 

Which we did, and I'm sure it will be nothing like what they'll be expecting. They know how these Games work, just like I do. They'll think I've gone insane, because it will make sense. 

"That girl from Four? Yeah, she was too calm, too peaceful. She just snapped, stabbed the blonde girl in the chest and left her for dead. Not surprisingly, honestly." I can imagine the conversations that will be had about me, within Taura's group and also back at home. I can see my father staring at the screen, tapping his foot incessantly, like he does when his mind isn't fully in the moment--which it never is, never was, as long as I can remember. 

I doubt I'll ever see him again, but I do wonder how it would be if I did. A scene plays in my mind:  I'd exit the train to a crowd of people, more excited for the food I've won them than my win itself--which I'd agree with, honestly. My father would be sitting on the stage next to the people who used to be his friends, the victors who would come over for dinner every other Sunday, laughing around our table, back when he was a real person. He would be tapping his foot, staring straight forward, not quite ignoring me, but certainly not processing my return either, not even close. His friend would clap him on the back, and maybe a smile would reach the corners of his mouth, or maybe it wouldn't. Maybe he wouldn't even be there at all, left behind by officials who were used to his absences. 

It's useless to contemplate impossible futures, though, so I force the thoughts from my mind and focus instead on moving forward, scanning the forest around me for the tributes that are out to kill Terra. 

I reach the clearing where the burnt husk of the cornucopia lies still, looking as if it's hot to the touch--something I don't test, not even bothering to exit the treeline, keeping my ears pricked for anything akin to sounds of distress from the island. I can see it from here, Terra laying immobile on the shore, very visibly covered in blood. My blood, not hers, but it hurts nonetheless. 

I rub the wound on my arm, still stinging from the saltwater. Should I have bandaged it, before I ran? Probably--but there wasn't time. There's never time. Life moves on, and moments must be seized, and it will be okay. I'll be fine. We both will. 

Terra promised. 

A flash of red hair, and then there she is: Taura. She emerges from a flattened patch of bushes near the beach, glancing behind her and pulling through a boy, one I recognize, but can't quite remember the name of, and the girl Vulcan threatened, Lua. Blood stains her face, too, creeping into her hairline, and I wonder where it could've come from, if she managed to survive Vulcan. 

Taura says something I can't hear, and points to the beach. The boy follows her gaze, but looks away quickly. Lua is the opposite, hesitating and then staring, full-on, at what appears to be Terra's broken body. 

I creep around the outskirts, careful not to be seen. They begin to swim, I move towards the path they have left behind, the flora of the arena carelessly trampled, making them very easy to track.  

Part of me wants to stay, sit on the beach and be sure that Terra is okay, but I know that she can protect herself, and that she would want me to find their camp, and loot it. We will need supplies once our enemies are gone, because even after them, there are plenty more tributes left in the arena that will certainly have their eyes pinned on me and Terra, red dots of doom floating over our hearts, unshakable until our inevitable deaths.

I move into the forest, being carefully quiet, glancing around me for any other murderous children that could be hiding here, waiting for an unknowing victim to bring them one step closer to the crown they will never win. It won't be mine, but I have seen Taura and I know Terra, and they are the only two candidates I could imagine being this Games's victor. 

I am maybe ten minutes of walking into the woods when I hear the first scream. 

The second is in short succession, and I recognize that voice and I recognize that name and Terra is hurt. Terra is injured. Terra is dying, maybe, and Terra is yelling for me. 

My feet run before my mind has made the conscious decision to lead them anywhere, no longer caring for any sort of subtlety, thinking only of Terra, of her all alone on that deserted little island, wildly outnumbered and wildly overconfident. My pulse somehow manages to rise even higher, breath coming in short spurts, not only from the overexertion of running for longer than I ever have before. 

The water is cold, refreshingly cold, dangerously cold, but the feeling doesn't manage to affect me. My feet find purchase on the island's sandy shore, and I run once more, falling to my knees before Terra and the spear pierced through her middle, stuck in the sand beneath her. 

"Terra," I sob, reaching for the spear. Her hand stops me, and a brief thought flits through my mind to remind me that she'll lose too much blood if I remove the spear. But it is too brief, and I am too desperate, and I pull the spear out of her chest, heart clenching at the small noise of pain she makes. I look up, eyes catching a grinning Taura, leaning against a palm tree, and lob the spear at her, form not thought-through nor very good. It misses, by a lot, but at this point I don't care. 

"No, you're gonna be okay," I say as I return to Terra's side, a promise we both know I can't keep. She meets my eyes, her own red and tear-stained, long strings of salt running down the sides of her face. I wipe them away, but they only return faster as her hand scrabbles for mine, gripping my fingers tight, too tight, but I don't mind. I would let her rip my entire hand off if it could save her. I would, I know I would. 

But the contribution of my hand can't save her now. Nothing can, maybe. It isn't a thought I want to think, but it's true. 

I press a hand over her wound in an attempt to stem the blood flow, a move she whimpers at, pain etched into her beautiful features. 

A hand reaches for my hair, pulling me backwards, but I push against it, leaning onto Terra, whispering assurances I wish I meant. 

The hand returns, a gruff voice saying something I'm not listening to. Terra meets my gaze again, whispering something I am listening to, something I will remember for as long as I live--which won't be long. 

"I'm sorry," she says, she apologizes, she apologizes to me when she is the one who is dying, she is the one who is injured, she is the one who endangered herself for me for me for me! She apologizes! 

I don't accept this but Terra has to: the light fades from her eyes, the warmth from her sunburnt skin, and she is gone.