Evening 14

Rosemary

It had been three days. They had been constantly moving since the night after Rosemary killed Mars. Now that there were only eight Tributes left, including the four of them, they knew that their time in the arena was ending. Not only were they pushing into the third week of the Games, but there had been no deaths since Mars. They were all positive that the Capitol and the Gamemakers were getting antsy. Soon, they would interfere. Already the alliance had made a pact that they would split up upon the next death of a Tribute, but for the moment they stuck together to make sure that the Gamemakers didn't wipe them all out in one sweep.

Throughout the days, they had walked back through the mountains and to the forest where Kyler and Rosemary started their alliance. It was a long trek and Rosemary spent most of the time in the back of the pack, Rye a few feet ahead of her, trying not to cry out from how much pain she was in. It was a hard task, but she had to hide it.

Once the Games dwindled down to the last eight Tributes, cameras and reporters from the Capitol–all of whom worked personally for Caesar Flickerman–would travel to the respective districts to bother their families in an interview. This was the reason that Rosemary had to be strong; Peeta was sure to be watching her and Rye very carefully now and with the reporters shoving a camera in his face, she didn't want him to worry about her.

Her injury had weakened her very much; she knew it and so did Rye, Kyler, and Xavier. She was in a lot of pain and she had slowed down tremendously, it was pretty obvious. What they did not–or Rosemary didn't think they did, anyway–know was how her wound was affecting her beyond the pain.

Rosemary had been treating her wound everyday, twice a day, but it wasn't looking any better. Infection, she had thought grimly, when she saw the reddened skin and white pus bubbling up within the wound. She didn't understand, she'd been diligent in her cleaning and though they were running out of medical supplies, she redressed it properly every time.

It didn't matter how or why her wound got infected. What mattered was surviving the next few days until Rye had a chance at being the winner of the Games. She didn't have a fever yet, but she knew without antibiotics, she'd develop one soon. From there, she'd become septic and when her organs failed, she would too.

It scared her, dying this way. She had hoped that she would go quickly.

Maybe I still can, she thought. She would just have to put herself down. Rye wouldn't do it and she wouldn't dare ask him to, knowing that it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

There, she had a plan for when things got worse. And, unfortunately, things were getting worse.

"Doesn't it worry anyone else that we haven't caught a rabbit in two days?" Kyler asked while they set up camp for the night, digging burrows into the snow banks and camouflaging themselves as they saw fit.

Rosemary looked over at him to see the discomfort in his brown eyes, the way his lips turned down into a nervous frown. She hobbled over to him and took his hand, squeezing it as hard as she could.

"It worries us, too," she reassured him.

"Yeah, but we just don't say anything because it's kinda predictable, y'know?" Rye added. He clapped his hands to rid his gloves of pine needles that stuck to them. "They're getting bored, the Gamemakers, and now they're doing something about it."

"So we're just supposed to starve?" Xavier spoke up now.

"No," Rye shook his head. "They've got to have some kind of food source, right?"

"Not necessarily," Rosemary slowly and carefully got situated in her snow bed. "There's been a couple of years where there was no food source. Besides, we won't starve. We still have the plants, all right?"

"Good point, Rosie," Rye gently draped her parka on her huddled form, making sure everything was covered. Once he was satisfied, he started camouflaging her to the best of his ability. He was no slouch at it, but he wasn't at Rosemary's level of capability. "I'll take first watch tonight. Everyone else, get some rest."

-

Unfortunately, Rosemary had jinxed them. When they woke up the next morning, the plant life that they had been living on since they'd arrived in the arena was dead underneath the snow. Xavier, in a rare moment of emotion, cursed up a storm and stomped away for two whole minutes before he came back, as even tempered as ever.

"I'm sorry," Rosemary apologized over and over again, agonizing over the fact that this was her fault. She had practically dared the Gamemakers to take away their remaining source of food.

"It's not your fault," Xavier patted her on the shoulder with a sad smile and then walked over to where Rye was packing up their stuff, both of them whispering about what their next plan of attack would be.

Rosemary felt a little better because of Xavier's reassurance, but whatever good she was feeling went away when she stood up too fast. White, hot pain ripped across her stomach and zapped through each one of her limbs, leaving her breathless and almost woozy...She stopped moving immediately and eventually the pain ebbed, but the muscles throughout her body still continued to ache.

Moving slowly now, she reached for her water bottle and took a couple sips.

"Hey, Princess," Kyler dropped down next to her, the pack of medical supplies in hand. "Ready for a new bandage?"

Rosemary smiled weakly. "I got it," she took the pack from him. "Thank you, though."

Kyler flashed her a worried look. "Are you sure? You don't look great, Rose."

"I'm just in pain," she reminded him and stood up, holding a firm palm to her wound so it wouldn't move too much. It stung, but it hurt less than when she didn't support it. "I'll be right back, okay? Tell Rye."

"Will do, Princess," he still looked worried but Rosemary could think of nothing else to reassure him.

She slowly walked about a hundred to two hundred feet away from the campsite in order to clean herself and do her morning business. After going to the bathroom, she took out her braid and tried to brush out the thousand knots in her blonde hair with her fingers. She was unsuccessful, so she just braided it up again, her head aching as she pulled and tugged the hair into an updo. She sighed in relief once she was done with the simple task, as it simply exhausted her. Unfortunately, she wasn't finished.

Next, she undressed and cleaned her wound. The pus was still there and the amount had grown slightly overnight. It smelled, letting her know that her infection was getting worse. Red streaks were climbing up her stomach from the wound, only about an inch long, which let her know she was on the way to blood poisoning. She inhaled shakily, knowing that she was doomed, and cleaned it with the rest of the peroxide in the bottle, redressing it soon thereafter.

Rosemary didn't know how long she had, but she knew she would be going soon. As she got redressed, she pondered her emotions and found that she wasn't that upset anymore. Maybe she had made peace with her death. After all, it would be easy to die, rather than survive the Games. And assuming Rye would win and go home to Peeta, her journey of watching them beyond the grave would start and that sounded like bliss compared to where she was now, the pain she was in now.

By the time she was zipping up her green vest, she heard the melodic tone of a sponsor's gift. When she looked up, she saw the silver parachute gliding down to her. She caught it with two hands, eyebrows furrowed in confusion; Haymitch was only supposed to send Rye sponsored gifts. Rosemary twisted open the container and quickly read the note on the short piece of paper.

You have a chance, Pipsqueak. If it's not Rye, it has to be you–H

Under the slip of paper was a small tub of cream. She assumed it was supposed to heal her wound, or at least get rid of the infection. She undressed halfway, leaving the bottom portion of her jumpsuit on, and smeared some on the wound. Instead of stinging like she thought it would, it immediately numbed the area. The pain that had been throbbing so much it echoed throughout her whole body slowly eased away.

"Thank you, Haymitch," she said aloud and rebandaged the wound. She didn't know how quickly the cream would work, or what exactly it did, so she was using caution and sticking with the bandages for now.

She slipped the tub of cream into one of the pockets on her vest, zipped it up, heaved the pack over her shoulder, and started walking back to the campsite. With the pain numbed, it was hard to remember that she still, in fact, had a wound, so she made herself take it slow. Knowing that the others would expect her to take a little bit longer to get back to them, she could take her time without fear of worrying them.

When Rosemary did make it back to the campsite, everything was packed up neatly and the boys were sitting around, waiting for her arrival.

"There you are, Rosie," Rye beamed as he walked over to her and threw an arm around her shoulder. "You look better."

"Haymitch sent me some medicine," Rosemary told him. "I'm not sure if it will heal the wound or if it's just numbing the pain, but I'm going to study it and make a conclusion then. I know that I've read some books where just the pain that a wound causes slows down the healing, which is fascinating. And did you know, the cold weather actually makes the rate of infection 85% worse because it slows down blood circulation? Without the circulation of fresh blood, infections are more likely to–"

"Alright, you human dictionary," Rye poked her cheek, effectively ending her spiel. One thing about Rye that Rosemary found annoying was that he sometimes didn't let her finish talking when she found something interesting. She supposed she could go on and on and that could get annoying, but she wished someone would actually just listen to her for once.

Presently, only Peeta had the patience to listen to her start to finish when she rambled. Even Kline and Sage couldn't sit there and let her impart knowledge unto them. Peeta appreciated it and actually learned from it, which made Rosemary proud.

"Our plan of action today is to split up and try to find more food," he continued when she gave him her attention. "Xavier and I will go back to the mountains and you and Kyler will keep going toward the frozen lake. Maybe see if there's fish under the ice or frogs on the bank."

"Why are we splitting up?" Rosemary wondered, not wanting to let Rye go off without her again. It had taken a week to find him last time. "I know we'll cover more ground, but we'll also be more vulnerable."

"I'll protect you, princess," Kyler winked at her before sobering up, knowing that she was genuinely afraid something bad was going to happen. "We'll meet up in this exact place tomorrow when the sun hits the highest point in the sky. Right, fellas?"

Xavier nodded and so did Rye.

"We'll all be fine, Rosie," Rye reassured her, placing his hands on both of her shoulders and maintaining direct eye contact to tell her how sure he was about this. "None of us will make it long without food so we have to try something."

Rosemary nodded, knowing that he was right. Still, it didn't make the nerves pooling in her stomach feel any better. She didn't like this. She didn't like it at all.

"Fine." she gave in. "But you better be careful."

Rye nodded and kissed her forehead. "You too, Rosie. See you tomorrow." he pulled away and pointed at Kyler. "You be careful, too, punk, and watch out for her."

"Will do, sir," Kyler mock saluted him, notching his fingers at his forehead and bringing them down swiftly. "See you at noon tomorrow!"

Xavier simply waved at Rosemary and Kyler before they turned away from each other and headed in different directions.

-

Day 15

Rye

Rye sincerely hoped that Rosemary and Kyler were having a better time than he and Xavier were. It had to have been four or five hours since they left his sister and Kyler, and so far they had found zilch. They had gone back to the mountains but, only a few couple hundred feet in, kicking the snow as they went, they were quickly becoming discouraged by the lack of edible plants. Where they had simply died back at the campsite, they had disappeared from the ground in the mountains. There was nothing but sparse grass under the snow.

I wonder if it's the same where Rose is, Rye thought. He knew that his sister would find it fascinating, despite what it meant for their survival. He didn't find it so fascinating, but he also wasn't his sister.

He and Xavier both agreed to hike another two hundred feet and if they didn't find anything, they'd circle around and start heading back to the campsite. They didn't mind if they got there before Rosemary and Kyler; if there was nothing up higher, they weren't going to waste what energy they had left to keep going until they wouldn't be able to get back at all.

Unfortunately, they had no luck at higher altitude.

"Stupid. Fucking. Gamemakers!" Rye shouted, stabbing the sharp end of his bystaff into the snow, over and over again, fury running through his veins.

When he got tired from stabbing the snow he plopped down on his ass and held his face in his hands, hiding from Xavier–who stood by patiently and watched his temper tantrum–the districts, and the Capitol.

He could blame his hissy fit on his hunger, but honestly, he wasn't even that hungry. He felt numb...he felt done, tired...he felt over it. He wanted to get out of the arena and at this point, he was looking forward to the sweet release of death that would get him there. The guilt and shame he felt from killing those kids, the physical and mental pain that bogged him down, the absolute anxiety he felt when he thought about going home alone, without Rose...It all turned into this intense black fog that clotted his brain, covering his eyes and ears and all the senses that kept him sane.

Rye was exhausted and all he wanted now was rest.

I shouldn't have left Rosemary, he thought despairingly.

Maybe these thoughts wouldn't be so prevalent if she was here, but he knew that he'd been holding them back now for a while. It was him protecting her, he decided, that made him feel like it was worth it to go on. He wished he could talk to Haymitch, tell him about his desires to let go and let Rosemary win the Games.

He couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take the sets of eyes of the Tributes he killed, haunting him while he was awake and while he was asleep. He didn't even kill the girl from Six, yet she haunted him too, constantly coming to him in his dreams to ask why he didn't help her. The girl from Three, the guy from Eight, the girl from Nine, and both Tributes from Ten–their blood was on his hands. He was a murderer, a killer, and just knowing what he had done, constantly remembering the moments where he ended their lives, was killing him.

He dragged the heels of his hands down his face and was about to stand up when he heard a piercing scream come from nearby. His instinct had him sure that it was Rosemary screaming, but it was a full moment after he took off running toward the noise, Xavier at his heels, that he realized that Rose was too far away for them to hear if she was in danger. This was another Tribute.

Down the mountain a little ways and toward a thicket of trees, they came upon a horrid scene. Two Tributes, the girl from Eight and the boy from Three, stood close together. At first, it looked like they were hugging, but the sickening sound of blood dripping from skin onto the snow reached Rye's ears first, and then the sharp edge of a blade, and a peek of what looked like the kid's small intestine hit him with the realization of what was actually happening.

Rye immediately jumped into action, grabbing the girl by the end of her ponytail and forcefully ripping her away from the kid. He felt some of her hair give away to the force of his pull, but paid no attention and practically threw her at Xavier. Once he was sure that his partner grabbed the girl, he put his attention on the kid.

The boy from Three had been the youngest Tribute for this year's Games, he remembered Rose telling him. Thirteen years old. Admittedly, Rye hadn't paid much attention to him, but now as he stared at the boy who lay bleeding on the ground, he saw how much he looked like Peeta.

"Shit," he grunted and dropped down on his knees by the boy's head. The kid was whimpering and shivering from the cold and what Rye could only assume was a huge amount of pain. The kid flinched when he saw Rye next to him, but Rye shook his head and placed a gentle hand on his head, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm not going to hurt you."

The kid whimpered, blood bubbled up from his lips. "Is–"

"Shhh," Rye cooed and brushed his hair back again, hoping his gesture was soothing and not sinister. "Hey, dude, it doesn't look that bad." he lied and forced a smile on his face for the sake of the kid. "What's your name?"

"B-Benj-ji." he coughed out, more blood trailing from his lips, down his cheek, and the strip of pale skin between his ear and jaw. "It's bad."

"Why do you say that?" as he asked, a cannon went off overhead. It was the girl who had sliced open Benji; Xavier had taken care of her.

"...doesn't h-hurt..."

Rye squeezed his eyes shut when he saw the hopelessness and tears form in Benji's brown eyes. He looked so much like Peeta. The poor kid was terrified and dying and all Rye could think about was Peeta in this position.

"Come 'ere," Rye carefully moved Benji so he was halfway sitting in his lap. Blood drenched Rye's jumpsuit and the crisp snow below them, but he didn't care. "I think you're right, Benji."

Tears broke from Benji's eyes now and Rye couldn't help but cry too, his eyes stinging when he saw how scared the kid was.

"'M s-scared," Benji's chest stuttered and his words were breathless, but he managed to choke out a sob. "I-I want m-my mom!"

"I'm sorry, buddy," Rye whispered; Benji coughed and blood spurted on Rye's neck. "Hey, hey, what did your mom do when you were scared back home?"

"She s-sang."

Rye smiled sadly. "My dad does it for me and my siblings, too. I bet your mom has a prettier voice, though." Benji nodded weakly. "I know you're scared and I'm not your mom, but do you want me to sing to you?"

"Y-Yes," Benji breathed, chest rattling. "U-Until I'm gone?"

"Sure," Rye's voice cracked as he reassured the boy. "Ready?"

Benji had no more strength to nod, but Rye knew he was ready anyhow.

"I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go. When all those shadows almost killed your light. I remember you said don't leave me here alone, but all that's dead and gone and passed tonight..." tears steadily dripped down Rye's eyes as Benji closed his. "Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be all right, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound..."

Benji's cannon boomed, startling Rye, who was in a daze, watching as Benji had stopped breathing and his face slumped peacefully.

A sob left Rye's throat and he leaned forward, pressing a messy kiss to Benji's forehead. "I'm so sorry, Peeta."

He gently placed Benji's body back on the ground and stood up, still crying as he rearranged the body until he looked like he was sleeping peacefully. He stopped when a throat cleared behind him.

"Rye, we should go."

Rye nodded, knowing that the hovercraft would be here soon, and wiped his bloody hands on jumpsuit. He picked up his bystaff and gave Benji one last silent goodbye before striding away from the bloody scene. By the footsteps crunching in the snow behind him, he knew that Xavier was following him.

Now they just had to decide where to go.