Peeta

As I look in the trunk of the Hummer at the weapons laid out in front of me I think about what I could have done differently. A cyclone of what ifs sweep me up in their mirage of happy endings. What if I had changed my name years ago and just disappeared to an island somewhere. I could be drinking a beer now, laying on white sands and watching women get a tan. What if I had investigated this hunting trip more thoroughly and alerted the FBI, which led to a sting operation where I helped take down Snow. Then, they put me in witness protection and I never had to see these people again. I could melt into the background and spend my days painting and experimenting with new baking recipes, find a nice girl and get married with a house full of kids.

As I lift up a metal spear and tuck knives into the weapons belt, I think, I haven't painted enough. I always thought there was time. There are scenes I wanted to get on canvas that I haven't gotten to and now, they'll never be seen. I'm depressing myself.

An even more depressing thought comes when I grab the canteen of water, no one's going to miss me, not really. The only person I can think of that might be remotely put out by my death, is Finnick. He'll probably throw back a dozen drinks to me on his yacht, have a drunken one night stand, and then, he'll move on. This makes me furious, what have I been doing with my life?! That isn't me, no one even knows who I really am. I learned to hide who I am at such a young age that I never made connections based on anything real. I wish I had at least one true friend, someone in this world to remember the real me.

I look down at the remaining weapons that neither of us has taken, a sword, some throwing stars, a blow dart, a syringe, ropes and a bow and arrows. None of the weapons are guns or anything automatic. It seems they want us to use skill or they want to drag this out for as long as possible. Cato grabs them all except the bow and arrows. I consider it, I'm not very good at archery, but some deep ancient voice within me tells me to take it, like i would regret it if I didn't. When the quiver is on my back it feels right, like I'm on track. I'm not going to question anything that makes me feel a little less lost.

The driver closes the hatch and he has the gall to give me a pitying look. I think he might be the man Snow called Abernathy. He reeks of alcohol. "It ain't over till the fat lady sings." he says cryptically. Before I can reply I'm watching the tail lights disappear into the night.

It's time I buddy up to this maniac. I'm thankful for that theatre class I took in grade school. That class might save a life, I chuckle at the thought. If by some miracle I make it out of here alive, Mr. Flickerman is getting a bottle of Glenlivit 1958.

"The pressure's what made me sick, you know how it is. Responsibility to the family on your shoulders. You probably never screw up though." Yeah, play to his ego Peeta.

He gives me a scrutinizing gaze. "You're right." His chest even puffs up a little, what a dick.

"What do you say I tag along for a bit. You mind giving me some pointers?"

"What's in it for me?"

I take a minute to come up with something he'd never refuse. "Besides back up, if I make the kill and get out of here I'll give you my custom Ferrari 458." I don't actually have one but I'll cross that bridge if I come to it. I make sure to put the sorrow in my voice, as if I'd be giving him the only thing important to me. "I'm also a pretty good tracker." This isn't necessarily a lie, I can follow a trail fine but I always scare the game away.

"For now you can stick around." The greed is written all over his face.

We walk for a bit but Cato decides to wait til light and we make camp quickly. "Camp" is just laying on a pile of leaves with my hunting jacket over my head. I'm glad we're resting because I am exhausted. Sleep comes shockingly fast.

Katniss

I never thought someone could be afraid of a sunrise. They always seemed to be a sign of hope and new beginnings to my naive mind. As I watch the golden light begin to illuminate the tops of the trees and slowly make its way down until it finally lands on the skin of my arm I react as if it's burned me. Will I see the sun rise tomorrow, I don't know and now I don't care because this sunrise feels like death.