"Your arm... it's bleeding again." Ember reaches out to gently touch the cut on my arm.
I wince slightly. It didn't seem that bad, just a flesh wound. "I-I've got some bandages in my bag."
"What happened?" he asks, unzipping my pack and pulling out a fresh bandage and tape. He carefully pulls away the old one and rolls up my sleeve, sighing as he inspects the wound. "This is gonna hurt, I'll have to clean it with some snow. You can be a brave girl for me, right?"
I nod. "Mmhm. I was at the Bloodbath, grabbing supplies. One of the boys from District Three, the one who died, had an – ahh!" I let out a cry and clamp my teeth together as Ember trickles ice-cold water onto the wound.
"Shh, shh, sorry. I know it hurts, I know, just a few more seconds." I know he hates doing this as much as I do, but I also know he has no choice. What's worse, a minute of stinging cold water, or days, possibly weeks, of a swollen, infected cut?
It hurts so much tears spring from my eyes, but then Ember wipes the cut clean and bandages it tightly. Within moments, the pain lessens to a dull throb.
"There. Better now?" I nod, biting my lip. "The boy from Three. What happened?"
I take a deep breath. "He had an axe, and he cut me. I thought he was going to kill me. I fell over I think, but someone shot him in the back."
He's silent for a minute, then his gentle demeanour changes. "This is why you weren't supposed to go in for supplies! You would've been able to survive without a bag, you know. What if I'd lost you?"
"What if I'd lost you!" I shout, forgetting the chances of another tribute being in the area. "I saw a boy die. I watched him be stabbed to death. I thought it was you! Do you know what that felt like? It was like my whole world had come crashing down. I had nothing more to live for; I didn't know what to do. I was scared and confused and upset. So don't you dare pull the 'what if I'd lost you' line!"
"No, Melia, that's not what I meant –"
"I was attacked by a girl who would have no problems killing me," I continue. "She tried to strangle me. I picked up a rock, and you know what I did? I hit her with it. But that wasn't enough, Ember. I snapped. I kept hitting her, over and over, not stopping for one second to realise that this was a human being. I smashed in her skull. I killed her, Ember, and you weren't there to stop me. You. Weren't. There."
And then I'm sobbing again, angry tears spurting down my cheeks. I clamp my hand over my mouth to try and stifle the sobs. I'm so weak, I realise. Not even one day into the Games and I'm already an emotional wreck. So much for being strong.
"Oh my God, Melia," Ember breathes. He sounds slightly horrified, and that just makes me feel worse. "Is that the cannon we heard?" I nod, and his voice softens. "Oh, Melia. I'm so sorry. I was trying to find you again. If I'd known..." He trails off, pulling me close and rocking me back and forth.
If you'd known... what? If you'd known that I'm slowly losing the plot? If you'd known that I'm descending into a pit that I can't climb out of? If you'd known that I barely have the will to live anymore, and I haven't since the reaping?
I feel Ember bury his face in my hair. Slowly, surely, I calm down until I'm just hiccuping. Then there's the telltale chime of a parachute descending to give us a gift from a sponsor. I perk up slightly as the smell of something delicious hits my nose and my mouth begins to water. Ember reaches out to tear away the silver fabric, revealing two containers of broth.
"Thank you, Acacia," he calls, lifting his head up. His eyes glitter in the early morning light.
The broth is steaming and delicious, even coming with its own spoons. Ember hands me a container and I barely waste a second before tearing the lid off and digging in. It's good, hearty stuff, filled with chunks of vegetables and meat. A small noise of satisfaction slips out as I eat a giant spoonful of the stuff.
"Feeling better?" Ember laughs.
I shrug. "A bit."
My eyes are still swollen and my nose has decided to be stuffed up, but finding my brother and letting some of my frustration out seems to have helped. I know though, that I'll lose my temper a lot out here. And most of it will be taken out on Ember, even though none of my anger is directed at him. I glance at him guiltily.
"I'm gonna be a very agitated person out here," I say, putting my spoon down. Ember looks at me. "Just know that if I get angry, it's not actually at you."
He nods, seeming to understand. "Yeah. I know. Are you finished eating? You'd better get some sleep, I'll keep watch."
I reluctantly put my bowl down. I don't really want to leave him alone like this, but even as he says it my eyelids begin to grow heavy with fatigue. I open my pack and lay out the rain poncho on the ground, then repack the container and spoon.
"Didn't you get a blanket?" Ember asks, cocking his head.
I shake my head. "No, I couldn't run fast enough to be able to get one. It's all right though."
He sighs and unzips his own pack. "Well, I'm glad you didn't try and get one. I'd much rather have you here and lend you my own blanket–" he pulls out a soft woollen rug and hands it to me "- than have it for myself while knowing you're gone."
"But what about you? Won't you get cold?" I say.
He shrugs. "Not if I tuck it around us both and snuggle up to you. You remember how you were always so warm when you were little? Like a little heat pack."
I smile as he tucks the blanket tight around my chin and lies down beside me, propped up against a tree. He's careful not to jar my cut, and curls a protective arm around me.
Even though the first rays of sunlight are beginning to creep across the ground, I still say, "Goodnight, Ember."
His hand moves to my hair and his fingers massage my scalp. It makes me even sleepier, and I close my eyes. I burrow closer to him, embraced in his warmth like it's a cocoon.
"Goodnight, Melia."

"Oh, if it isn't the little girl from Twelve. Where's your brother?" the girl from District 5 smiles.
"He's not coming," I snap, my teeth clenched.
"I guess last night's promise to protect you was all a ruse. How sad. Don't suppose he'll miss you when you're gone, then." I gasp as her knees dig into my stomach and her fingers lock around my throat.
I fight against her, my nails digging into her arms and my feet trying to kick at her. She shrieks as blood blooms beneath her coat, trickling down onto her hands. Then she pulls out a knife, holding the blade to my chin. I swallow hard, feeling the cold metal pressed against my Adam's apple. If I move even an inch, it'll slit my throat.
My eyes frantically search for something – anything – that will help me. There's a rock about a metre away, the size of my fist. Just as she smirks and presses the blade further into my skin, I snatch it up and hit her across the temple in one swift motion. It's her turn to be pinned down by someone. It's her turn to know what it's like to be moments away from death. I lift the rock high and bring it down onto her skull with a sickening crack. I hit her again and again, feeling no remorse. No pity. Nothing but a sick desire to kill.
Her blood splatters my face and hands and clothing, painting the snow a strangely beautiful shade of crimson. But it's not the girl from 5 anymore. It's Bailey. I've killed Bailey. I killed...
Baileybaileybaileybaileybailey –

I shift with a groan, my neck stiff and my limbs sore from lying on the ground. Sweat trickles down my temple. I blink, my eyes adjusting to the light.
"Morning, sleepyhead." Ember ruffles my hair playfully. "Good sleep?"
I shake my head, my throat suddenly very dry. I sit up and paw around in my pack for my bottle of water, then take a long gulp. Ember looks at me worriedly, but he just opens up his bag and pulls out two energy bars.
"I know it's not much, but we'll have to ration our food until we can get back to the Cornucopia for supplies. Or... maybe we could try hunting animals?" It's more of a question than a statement.
It's a ridiculous suggestion. Neither of us have any experience hunting, even if we can identify safe plants easily. It's just not what you do in District 12. You stay in the fence like a law abiding citizen and you scrape by with whatever you can manage to trade for or find yourself. Most people aren't brave enough to venture beyond the fence anyway, though there's one boy a couple of years older than me who you occasionally see sneak out through a hole in the fence. Culm Everdeen, I think his name is. I've seen him at the Hob too, on the rare occasions Burnet takes me there when he goes to trade. He always seems to have a bag of meat and plants with him and more often than not you can hear him bartering with people, laughing and jollying them into taking his offers.
I chew my lip, drumming my fingers on the ground. "I can't see that going so well..."
"Well, I tell you what then. Why don't we look for Bailey today? She's alive and probably on the move, and if I could bet on it I'd say she's moving away from the Cornucopia."
I think back to yesterday, when I was running away from the bloodbath and I thought I'd just seen Ember die. "I saw her just after the gong sounded, she was running away with a small bag. I think... I think she ran away from the left of the horn. The mouth of the horn almost always faces north, doesn't it? So she'd be towards the west of the arena."
"And if I remember, we're on the east side. So that's a whole day's walking from here. Do you think you can manage?" He touches my arm gingerly.
"I'm not dying yet," I reply. "And if I was it wouldn't matter because it's only my arm that's injured. Unfortunately I've got no weapons so I can't be of much help anyway."
"Ah, luckily I managed to steal a knife before I ran away." Ember smiles and pulls one from his bag. It's a double-edged blade with a serrated edge on one side and just smooth metal on the other and a rubber handle. Good for both cutting and stabbing.
I take it and weigh it in my hands. "Are you sure? Don't you need this?"
He shakes his head. "I don't use knives, remember? Besides, I can fashion a spear from a stick. Not as if we're not surrounded by trees. We should be heading off soon though, we have no idea if anyone was around when you – you know – and we have no idea if anyone's seen us yet."
He lays out his supplies on my rain poncho and starts rolling everything up into the blanket. I eye his stash with a tinge of jealousy – he managed to get much better stuff than me. Several tins of food, a pair of gloves, the knife, the blanket, a first aid kit, a packet of dried beef strips, a flashlight, a coil of wire and a few sachets of powdered soup mix.
"You've got a lot of stuff," I say, packing my own gear. "How close to the Cornucopia did you go?"
"Quite close. Not far enough in that I couldn't get away, but I could've run less than twenty metres and I would have been able to touch it." As he continues putting his things away, I don't answer. I'm a little annoyed at him for telling me I shouldn't have gone in to get anything, yet all along he was right in the middle of the action.
He zips up his backpack and slides the straps onto his shoulders. "You all ready to go? Come on then."
We set off at a brisk pace towards the opposite side of the arena. I find myself having to run occasionally to keep up with Ember, but for the most part we stick together. Surprisingly we don't run into any tributes either, but once or twice we hear a cannon and stop, looking to see where the hovercraft is.
"Twenty-eight left," Ember says grimly. "At least it means we're closer to home."
I don't answer. Sweat trickles down my temple and upper lip and I'm panting. I'm not used to going so far at such a quick pace, and I haven't exactly had a lot to eat to keep me going. I unzip my coat and try to roll up the sleeves, but eventually I just pull it off and stuff it into my pack as we walk.
Ember looks at me in concern. "Are you all right?"
I nod, trying to ignore the stabbing pain just below my ribs. "I'm fine."
But Ember isn't happy. After a few more agonising minutes he makes us stop to take a drink and refill our bottles. By now it's early afternoon and despite the snow all around us the sun beats down relentlessly.
"How much longer do you think it is until we can stop?" I ask, shielding my eyes from the sun. I take a large gulp of water, ignoring the fact that some dribbles down my chin.
"Well we should keep moving until early evening, maybe a bit longer. It honestly depends on if we come across another tribute or if we find Bailey."
If we find Bailey. Neither of us has the heart to suggest one of the cannons might have been hers. It occurs to me that the viewers know if she's alive. They know where she is, and they know what Ember and I are doing because they can see us. We've probably being tracked by a camera right now, and it's that realisation that makes me stand a little straighter. We've had at least one sponsor so far, but the look of desperation on my face wouldn't endear me to anyone.
"Let's go, then," I say. "I want to get as far across the arena as possible."
By evening, the death recap shows us that the two cannons we heard earlier were for the remaining boy from District 3 and one of the girls from 10. Bailey is still alive.
Three days into the Games. No new sponsor gifts, no infection on my arm, no sign of Bailey. We've run into another tribute once or twice, but Ember always pulls me behind a tree or bush and claps his hand over my mouth. Nobody bothers us.
By the fourth day, I'm beginning to lose hope of finding Bailey again. It's silly, but I start thinking maybe the Capitol is playing a cruel trick and she is actually dead. But each time I tell myself to stop being stupid. She's fine. She's alive.
"Do you want to stop and rest for a bit?" Ember asks. "Our food will be going bad soon, and you've been a real trooper these past few days. You deserve a proper meal."
I sigh. "All right. Should we try setting up a snare? We might be able to catch a rabbit."
He nods, throwing his backpack on the ground and slumping down beside it. I take a seat beside him, rubbing my aching legs. We've been walking almost non-stop for three days and my body doesn't like it.
"What would you like first?" Ember says, setting out the food. There's a small selection of dried fruit, several crackers, a few more beef strips and two cans of food.
I think for a second. "The crackers will be going soft, and the tin of casserole we opened the other day will be mouldy in a couple of days. Let's get those eaten so we're not being poisoned by bad food."
"Good idea." Ember hands me a spoon and the can. Within seconds I've devoured half of what's left, but my stomach still feels empty. I reluctantly pass it back, wishing for the hundredth time I'd got more at the Cornucopia.
Ember crumples up the can and tucks it away in his bag. He takes a swig of water, then he coughs.
"You all right?" I ask, looking at him in concern.
He nods, quickly screwing the cap back onto his water bottle. "Just inhaled a bit, I'm fine."
My own throat begins to tickle. Maybe we're getting sick? I shake my head. No, we might be close but not so close that we've ever got sick at the same time. Ember never really falls ill anyway. You only want to cough because he's coughing, I tell myself.
The feeling doesn't subside, though. Ember inhales sharply, then erupts into a series of wheezes so violent beads of sweat form on his forehead and I think he might black out. I rush over to him, rubbing his back. By the time he's finished his face is bright red and his eyes are watering. I hold his bottle of water to his mouth, but it seems to have little effect.
My lungs start to feel like they're being cooked. I tilt my head and cough into my arm. A thought surfaces of the older people in District 12, with their hacking and wheezing from years spent in the mines. I try to remember if I heard of any cure, but I can think of none.
Ember's starting to shake violently. He's lying on the ground, almost retching. I lean over him, clasping his face in my hands and begging him to stay with me.
"No, no! Ember! Ember, please. Don't go to sleep! I need you to stay awake." He doesn't seem to have heard me. His eyes flutter closed.
My head is aching, the trees swooping around me like giant birds. I'm so dizzy and my lungs feel like they've been stung by a thousand tracker-jackers and I just want it to stop...
Something tinkles above me. I look up to see a silver parachute float down and stop by my feet. It takes a moment for me to register what it is, but then I tear it open. Has Acacia sent us a cure? My heart plummets as I see some kind of mask. There are two of them. I've seen something similar on a few of the coal miners, but I can't remember what they're for...
"Papa, what are those?" My five-year-old self, pointing at one of the masks as my father took me past the miners on their way home from work.
"They're so the miners don't inhale too much coal dust. It's to help them breathe when they're down in the mines."
"Can't their lungs work well?"
Help them breathe... help them breathe! It's the air. The Gamemakers have poisoned the air. Something falls from the parachute, but I ignore it. Already my own body is starting to fail. I hold one of the masks over Ember's nose and mouth and tighten the strap at the back of his head with trembling fingers.
I'm starting to convulse, my vision growing dark and hazy. I slump over onto my side, trying to fit the last mask onto my face. My hands refuse to co-operate, but I'm determined not to die at the hands of the Gamemakers' cruel tricks. I've just slipped the mask over my mouth when my muscles fail completely and my eyes close.