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"If she was mad at me for not taking over the watch shift, she could've just woken me up," Daphne grumbled to herself as she yanked her boots back on. Her clothes had thankfully dried overnight, though there was a gash in the sleeve where the District Eight girl's shortsword had slashed her.

"She was the one who told me to sleep! Besides, who just leaves while on watch anyways? It's called 'watch' for a reason-"

Soft footsteps echoed from outside the room, accompanied by the creak of old wood underfoot. Daphne froze, drawing a knife from the belt restrapped around her waist, suddenly alive and alert. The footsteps grew closer, light and at a relaxed pace. Daphne tightened her grip on the knife, feet shifting into a ready stance. Her muscles ached, her throat was sore, and she was not in the mood for another battle. Not to mention the cut on her left arm stung whenever she shifted it.

A figure appeared in the doorway, and she sent the knife flying with all the fire in her veins.

Azalea let out a squeak of surprise, jumping backwards. She stared at the blade embedded in the wooden doorframe, her golden eyes wide.

"Oh my goodness," Daphne breathed, letting her shoulders relax. "It's just you."

Azalea looked incredulously from Daphne to the blade, the blade to Daphne. "You threw a knife at me."

"You were the one who vanished when I woke up this morning," Daphne scoffed, stalking over and yanking her knife from the wood. "Excuse me if I thought there was an intruder, since there was nobody around to warn me if there was."

"You were sleeping so soundly, I thought I'd get my face ripped off if I woke you."

Daphne frowned. "Did you at least sleep?"

Azalea shrugged, then slid past Daphne into the room. She opened her backpack and pulled out two plastic packets. She tossed one to Daphne, which Daphne caught and examined curiously. Inside were crackers, dry and crumbly, but crackers nonetheless.

"Sponsor?" Daphne inquired, her stomach lurching in response to the aspect of food.

"There's an old convenience store a couple blocks that way," Azalea said, pointing in a direction in which Daphne hadn't yet explored. "I found these crackers. They're probably stale beyond taste, but good stomach-fillers if you're famished."

"How is it that when I'm looking for food, I get a squirrel and have to risk my neck cooking it but when you're looking for food, you find it so conveniently?" Daphne grumbled, handing the crackers back to Azalea to keep in the backpack. Daphne was hungry, but not so hungry that she would consume some of their only snacks for the sake of it. It was better to save these, just in case.

Azalea snorted, and her golden eyes trailed to the side. "Maybe I'm just better."

Daphne shot her a side glance, shoving the knife back into her belt. "Say that one more time and I won't miss."

Their eyes locked for several heartbeats, then to Daphne's surprise, Azalea broke out a chuckle. Daphne found her own face muscles twitching in a smile, and then she was laughing too. Suddenly, they were back to fifteen year olds, sharing a moment of humor before the year that everything had gone to hell.

"He'd rather be murdered in the Games than come home to you."

The words echoed in the back of Daphne's head, and the brief amusement wiped from her face. She'd never forgotten those words that'd sprung from Azalea's mouth and wounded her in ways that no weapon could ever.

Daphne had done all she could to suppress that memory. That moment of pure rage and betrayal. Her anger upon simply seeing Azalea had gotten better, better to the point she could stand the other girl following her around during Training. But now, from the sudden flashback last night, all the lava had rushed straight back into Daphne's veins. All the heat that she'd needed a whole year to douse.

Daphne squeezed her hand into a fist. It was rubbing her the wrong way, how Azalea was suddenly warming up to her after a year with those words between them. Azalea's actions back then had seemingly spurred from nothing. Daphne still had no idea why she did any of it.

But Azalea had saved her from drowning last night. For now, Azalea had the benefit of her doubt.

Who knows, maybe Azalea would prove useful. She did find those crackers, after all. So far, she hadn't done anything shady, but that didn't quench an uneasy feeling in Daphne's gut.

Azalea's own chuckle died off, and a sudden thump at the windowsill snapped both of their attentions. It was a capsule much like the one that had arrived the previous night; gray and attached to a small parachute. Daphne lunged forward, snatching it before Azalea could, twisting it open to reveal a metal water bottle.

A water bottle! Now she could keep a drink with her at all times, without risking her pelt going out to the canal every single time. Daphne quickly uttered a thanks to whatever camera must've been trained on her at the time, then quickly made her way down the stairs

Azalea was quick on her heels. "Where are you going?"

"To fill this thing, where else?"

Daphne checked her surroundings before stepping out into the open, hurrying to the canal. It wasn't far, since the house they'd crashed in for the night was bordering the docks where Azalea had fished Daphne out like a half-drowned dog.

"How do you know that water bottle is yours?" Azalea said as Daphne submerged the bottle into the canal, filling it with water. "It could've been meant for me."

"Well, if you're dying of thirst, you're always welcome to use it." Daphne said, taking a long sip before screwing on the top. "Maybe it was for both of us. We share it."

Daphne opened Azalea's backpack and dropped it inside. Azalea made a noise of protest, but didn't fidget as Daphne zipped it back up and gave her a hard pat on the back, not before taking out another wad of bandages. Daphne wrapped it around her arm wound as Azalea scowled.

"Notice that we've gotten two sponsored items as soon as we started working together?" Daphne said. "Theia's rewarding us for being civilized towards each other. Every mentor does it to promote alliances. It's a typical move."

"Fine," Azalea huffed, almost pouting. "If dealing with you means I get more sponsors, I'll suck it up."

"You didn't have to save me last night if that's how you feel." Daphne muttered, suddenly exasperated. "What's up with you, Azalea? Yesterday you were going on and on about how you wanted to prove that you were trustworthy, and now you're acting like you still hate my guts."

"Don't tell me you're not so wishy-washy either." Azalea scoffed. "One moment we were laughing, just like old times, and suddenly you're scowling at me."

"Those 'old times' didn't have to turn into 'old times' if it weren't for you," Daphne muttered bitterly. "Hell, I wouldn't even be here, in this damn arena, if it wasn't for you."

Azalea's expression turned rock hard, and Daphne looked over her shoulder in the direction she'd mentioned stumbling across a convenience store.

"I don't suppose you're ever going to tell me why you did what you did. I'm going to go explore a bit, you can follow if you'd like." Daphne brushed past her with more force than necessary and began her way down the path. There was a scuff behind her that sounded awfully like Azalea kicking a rock in frustration.

"I wouldn't go in that way, if I were you." Azalea called. "I saw a tribute wandering around this morning."

Daphne paused in her tracks. "You saw another tribute?"

Azalea nodded. "If you're foolish and itching for a fight, go ahead. But I'm going to go this way," she pointed in a direction diagonal towards the tall adobe buildings area.

Daphne hesitated, seriously considering risking encountering the said tribute just to spite Azalea. Azalea turned up her nose and began to walk. Daphne grumbled a string of curses under her breath, then reluctantly trudged after her.

***

Caelum ached for a book.

He was exhausted, worn to the bone from continuously moving for the past two days. He hadn't stopped to rest the first night, and he was only forced to stay in one place on the second night because he'd passed out cold before he could even find a secure place to rest.

Luckily, nobody had stumbled across him unceremoniously slumped on a bush between two wooden houses. It was then did he realize that if he wore himself out too much, he would be done for if an actual fight did break out.

He'd spent the first full day lost in the labyrinth of adobe towers, only realizing there was a beachtown when he'd climbed to the rooftop of one of the said buildings.

The view from up there had been incredible, the towering buildings ending abruptly in the distance, giving way to paths that snaked like ant trails between the brown dots of cozy houses. The occasional green splotch of grass, the dock that bordered the canal as far as the eye could see, opening up to a vast blue ocean shimmering beneath the sun. On the other side of the canal stretched more buildings and houses. The arena was massive, and it would take several days to explore all of it.

He'd never itched so bad for a pen and paper, to write down the verses that flowed through his head at the morbid beauty of the arena. This was what happened when he hadn't had a book to read in the past week and a half; he started composing his own stories.

Now, with slowly healing muscles and only a faint headache, Caelum sat on the brittle wooden floor, leaning against the staircase, longing for something to read. He'd wandered around the suburban beachtown and decided to crash in a random beige house, since he needed to rest after losing consciousness last night. He'd used up an unholy amount of energy prying the door open. And now, all he could think about was the cliffhanger he'd left on in the book he was reading back home.

In the stories, the characters always seemed to know what to do. Their adventures were action packed, dangerous, but almost always ended happily. Caelum envied them; the fact that they had that assurance that everything would be alright in the end. He couldn't say the same for himself, right here, right now.

He stared blankly at the bow and quiver discarded on the ground before him. As of late, he couldn't bring himself to shoot a single arrow, forgoing target practice for the past few days. No, because everytime he drew back that bowstring, he saw a scrawny fifteen-year-old from District Eight. Mellie, about to strangle Daphne, and his arrow going straight through her back.

He'd saved Daphne. He hadn't hesitated a moment before ending Mellie's life, if it meant Daphne would live. The realization terrified him more than it should.

Caelum wanted to kick himself. He cared whether or not the other District Ten tributes were alright or not, even though he knew he shouldn't. In reality, they were just threats to the victory, obstacles that blocked him from ever returning home. Home to take care of Ara, to finish his training as a butcher's apprentice, to carve out a life for himself on the ranches of District Ten.

Daphne. Everytime her name spiraled through his thoughts, he fought to choke it down. More often than not, he failed. A wave of emotions swept through him every time. Guilt, mostly. Followed by regret.

So many words... so many had been at the tip of his tongue that last night on the rooftop. Words that he ached to tell her, catching in his throat and shredding him inside. He hated himself for how he treated her, how he'd reacted to the news, and all because he-

A weight shoved against the rusted door across the room. Caelum was snapped from his never-ending spiral of thoughts, his hand going instinctively to his bow. He was on his feet in an instant, an arrow notched and ready. His heart began to pound, and he raised his bow as the thing pushed against the door once again.

It was definitely something alive. Whether it was a tribute, or some strange mutt, Caelum was suddenly glad for the sticky door. He could vaguely hear the intruder's muttered curses as they threw themselves against the door one last time.

The door flew open with a slam and a puff of dust, revealing a figure standing in the frame, outlined against the late morning sun. Caelum drew back the bowstring, the tip of his arrow aimed right at the intruder's chest.

His hands shook violently, as they did every time he'd loaded his bow since the bloodbath. Despite the adrenaline that filled his veins, he couldn't push aside the mental image of Mellie, looking down in shock at the arrow protruding from her chest, scarlet liquid splashing onto Daphne's face.

"Woah! Dude, chill!" The intruder cried out in alarm–a very familiar cry–then threw up his hands in proof he was unarmed. "Wait... Caelum?"

Caelum squinted against the sun in the doorway, and with a gasp he lowered his weapon, deflating in relief. His trembling hands gave out, letting the bow clatter to the ground beside him. The intruder, whom he could now see was a curly-haired boy with tawny-colored skin, shut the door behind him, cutting off the blinding sunlight.

"For goodness' sake, Theron, don't you know it's polite to knock?" Caelum scolded jokingly, finding his voice quivering with fading adrenaline.

Theron raced forward and grabbed Caelum by the shoulders, shaking him despite the fact that Caelum was a couple inches taller. "I've been looking for you for ages, dude. You look terrible."

"Yeah, nice to see you too." Caelum grumbled, and Theron slapped him on the back. Caelum noted a wickedly sharp stick of wood strapped around Theron's belt.

"What? You look like you just tumbled a minotaur," Theron picked up Caelum's bow. "Damn, and I couldn't even get close to any of the good weapons. I guess it pays off to be a fast runner. Anyways, I came across a convenience store just down the street and-"

"Wait," Caelum blinked. "I look like I just tumbled a what?"

"Hopefully you can use those minotaur-tumbling skills to conquer this Game!"

Caelum couldn't help himself. "Like you conquered playing that bush in our third grade-"

"Okay, you're just jealous!" Theron fired. "What were you in that play, anyways? Donkey Number Three?"

"I was Donkey Number Two, actually."

Theron chuckled.

"Oh Caelum, you and I, we're going to burn this arena to the ground."

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