Disclaimer: Hunger Games does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Suzanne Collins, etc.

Day o7

Cecil Cross, District Eight

"Cecil. Cecil." Shear's poking me in the ribs. "Cecil!" she hisses insistently, leaning back slightly when I blink blearily at her. Surely it can't be morning already. It doesn't feel like I slept at all.

"Shear, what is it?" I mumble, rubbing a hand over my eyes.

"Outside! Look," she says, and in my defence, the only reason I didn't notice in the first place is because we're camped out in a tree, so it's hard to see the environment beyond.

I squint out one of the holes in the tree – and flinch back in surprise. "The sun?" I say, blankly.

"I know!" Shear agrees, grinning. "Isn't it great?"

I smile back, unable to keep myself from wondering why the Gamemakers have changed the weather. The sun is bright, rising over the horizon. The only thing that's missing is the chirping of birds to herald the morning.

But really, I'm glad, because they'd probably be mutts, not the nice little songbirds I listen to before I get up.

"It's nice to see the sun again," I concede. And it is, it's just I can't shake the feeling that something's going to happen. The Gamemakers are probably annoyed at the slow pace this year. After a week, only a little over half the tributes are dead. But it's a relief to not have those gloomy clouds overhead. At least the clear blue sky is a reminder that there's some colour in the world, beyond the gray confines of this arena.

"Do you think we should leave yet? The anthem hasn't played yet-"

And the anthem starts playing as soon as Shear says this. We roll our eyes, trading grins. Over the past five days, Shear and I have really gotten close. I can't even bring myself to think of abandoning her, which I was seriously considering a few days ago. I know we can't both win – but I keep telling myself that I can't win in any case, so what's the point of spending my last days alone?

I don't say this to Shear of course, and we don't talk about it. I'm getting better at reading her, now that she's overcome her shyness towards me, but I don't have any idea what she's thinking about our chances of winning the Hunger Games.

"I guess that means we should get moving," I suggest, once the anthem finishes. Shear nods, and we both check for anyone nearby, through the holes in the tree. Shear goes first, carefully pushing the section of wood that we cut through last night out, then climbing out of the hollow tree. I follow, and we replace the panel.

No need to tell Careers that we've been using the trees themselves as hiding spots. Yesterday, we narrowly avoided an encounter with four of them.

Shear's stomach grumbles as we dust ourselves off from spending a night in the tree, and she blushes. I stuff the blanket into the pack, and pull it onto my shoulders. We ate the last of our provisions yesterday, around what Shear judged to be midday.

"We'll find something," I say with as much confidence as I can muster, giving her a reassuring smile. Shear smiles shyly back, though I don't think I have her completely convinced.

"Let's make a trip to the stream. Our water's low," she decides, and I follow her. Despite being about five years older than her, I'm not the 'boss' or anything. I mean, let's face, her survival skills are far more honed than mine. We're partners, I'd say.

She also has a much better sense of direction than me. Even though we spend our nights mostly unmoving in a tree, I still find myself disoriented when I leave it. It takes about an hour to reach the stream, as we were on the other side of the arena. We each finish off our respective water bottles – no point mixing unpurified and purified water, after all – then refill them and drop iodine tablets it.

We've mostly spent our days wandering the forest, but we've stayed relatively close to the Cornucopia. After the close encounter with the Careers last night, though...

"Maybe we should go deeper into the forest," I suggest, once our water errand is done.

Shear tilts her head to the side, considering. "Ok," she agrees at length. "Maybe there's something else in there, too."

I hear the unspoken like a source of food. My stomach gurgles in agreement, but we both ignore it. Food's not going to come to us, unless our mentors decide to send some. The hunger is a distraction, yes, but it's not too bad yet.

"If we don't find food tonight," Shear whispers, glancing uncertainly at me.

"Hey, I said we'd find some. But if not... Well, that's what our sponsors are for, right?" I aim a smile off into the trees, hoping there's a camera nearby to catch it.

Shear nods, and takes my hand. We walk away from the stream, then turn in the direction leading away from the Cornucopia (or so Shear tells me; I have no idea, myself).

The sun makes the temperature rise, enough so that it's comfortable rather than chilly, and by midday I'm unzipping my jacket slightly.

"What's District Eight like, Cecil?" Shear asks me abruptly, about fifteen minutes later.

I blink, not expecting the question. We've talked about our families, what we'd do if we win (although we both said 'when', not if, during the conversation itself) and some of our jobs within the District, but never about the actual District itself.

"Uh... Boring?" I say without thinking, then quickly laugh. "I mean, the landscape's all pretty uniform. You see one part of it, it's the same everywhere else," I hastily add.

Shear nods. "Are there lots of trees? Does it rain a lot? Is it cold?"

"Not lots. I mean, there's some. Not like Seven or Eleven, though," I answer. Honestly, I never really stop to look at what my District looks like. Eight is just... Eight. I don't pay attention to the scenery. "Well, I don't know what they're called because I didn't pay that much attention in Geography class..."

Shear gives me a disapproving look. I shrug in response: honestly, I don't much see the point in that class. It wouldn't have helped me in life, and it hasn't helped me with this arena, so... Eh.

"They have, uh, spikes? You know, they don't have leaves but they have cones and stuff instead of seeds-"

"... Coniferous," Shear supplies, rolling her eyes at me. Once again, the similarity between her and my sister is surprising; my sister would have done the same thing in this situation.

"Yeah. It's always sort of wet, like... humid. And it's not cold, but it's not really warm either?"

Shear giggles. "That really narrows it down."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumble, sighing theatrically. "So what's District Ten like, huh?"

My ally gets a little glossy-eyed as she remembers. I guess she likes her home better than I like mine. Well, it's not like I dislike my District, it's just... not great. I'm indifferent, I guess.

"Prairies, long grass as far as the eye can see," Shear explains, a small smile I doubt she's even aware of on her lips. "There's some trees, around the town, but outside of that, there's only a few. Usually they're alone, in the middle of the plain."

"Cows, too?" I guess, grinning.

"Mmhm. And pigs and chickens. Some sheep, too. I guess the wool would go to District Eight," she adds, grinning back at me.

"Ah, yes, the wool. It's so fluffy," I say, a bit nonsensically just to hear Shear giggle. "But I don't like it that much. I think my favourite fabric would have to be suede. It's so soft."

Shear is giggling helplessly at this point, so we're understandably caught off guard when another tribute appears in front of us. I immediately pull my knife out of my belt when I spot him; he obviously heard us coming, because he has a knife out as well.

Shear belatedly does the same, her laughter abruptly stopping when she looks to see why I have suddenly halted.

All I can say is, this boy isn't a Career. His District, much less his name, is completely unknown to me.

The boy's eyes flick from my knife to Shear's. Sure, she's a little girl, but we still outnumber him. And I'm taller than him. I notice that his shoulder is bandaged, though there isn't blood soaking through it or anything.

"Who are you?" the boy asks suspiciously.

"I think that's our line," I respond, because really. He thinks he's the one in the position to ask questions? I don't think so.

"Carson Block, District Six," he says reluctantly.

"Cecil Cross, District Eight," I answer. After a few seconds of silence, I add, "And this is Shear Harve, from District Ten."

Carson nods. "Not many of us left," he remarks. "We could be allies."

"That depends. Do you have any food?" I force myself to ask. I don't think adding another person to mine and Shear's partnership would really work. Carson doesn't seem all that nice – I guess being in the Hunger Games does that to you – and he'd probably see Shear as a liability. (As he should, some part of my mind rebelliously whispers, but I ignore it.)

Carson's looks away for a second, then hastily says, "No."

The guy's a horrible liar, but I'm not about to kill him for food... Though I'd probably get more sponsors if I showed some violent initiative.

"Then get out of here," I snap. "You think we're going to share our food with you?"

Carson hesitates, then turns and bolts away.

Shear and I continue on our way, deeper into the forest. Of course, we spend a lot of time glancing over our shoulders, in case he wants to try and ambush us.

After a while, she whispers, "Why did you tell him we had food? You both lied."

So she caught on that Carson did have food, huh? Well, I know that she's observant. "Well, if he knew we didn't have food, he'd try to bargain his way into forming an alliance with us. He'd have the upper hand, because he has food, but at the same time we still outnumber them. Any partnership we formed with him would be tenuous, at best," I explain, though I didn't have any such specific thoughts in my head when I turned him away.

I just wanted to protect Shear.

She nods thoughtfully, and we walk on in silence again.

The sun is starting to descend, so I'd say it's about mid-afternoon when we find the end of the arena, though that really wasn't our goal at all.

The stone wall that descended from the mountain apparently encircles the whole dead forest, blocking our way. There's a small opening for the stream to pass through beneath it, but it's far too small for even Shear to wriggle through. And that's assuming she can even swim, which I doubt.

It's a bit depressing to learn that there's nothing else in this forest but dead trees, I won't lie. The stone wall is completely vertical and smooth; there's not getting over it, at least not with our meagre supplies.

"... Well, at least we didn't find this running from Careers," I say, trying to lighten the mood. Shear gives me a weak smile, but of course our stomachs take that moment to remind us why we wasted a whole day finding the borders of the arena.

"Have some water," I say, pressing Shear's water bottle into her hand. We're almost out of iodine tablets, too. Surely our mentors can at least send us that.

Surely we have enough sponsor money?

I've been telling myself the reason we haven't gotten any sponsor gifts is because we don't need them, but after we ran out of food yesterday, and with the rest of our supplies running dangerously low, I can't help but wonder if the fickle citizens of the Capitol have abandoned us.

I mean, this year's batch of Careers isn't that impressive. Besides the bloodbath, I can only assume that they've accounted for two other kills in six days. Not very entertaining, if you ask me.

Not that Shear and I have been any better, but no one expects us to provide that kind of gory show.

Shear drains her water bottle and goes to refill it in the stream, which has slowed to form a shallow pond at the base of the stone wall.

"Any fish?" I ask hopefully, following her over. No such luck.

"There's nothing," Shear cries, hurling her water bottle away, into the dust. For a moment I'm glad that I didn't get the chance to drop an iodine tablet in, because that would have been a terrible waste. Then I feel guilty, because while I'm nearing adulthood, Shear is still a child and shouldn't, more than anyone else in this arena, have to be in this situation. "Nothing in this whole, dead arena!"

Except ants, I don't say, because the thought of eating those creepy flesh-eating mutts is, well, gross and creepy. "Let's take a break," I suggest, collecting her fallen bottle. I dip it in the pool, to wash off the worst of the dust, then refill it and drop a tablet in. I tuck it back into the pack, and see that Shear is sitting against one of the numerous fallen trees.

"So what do you think about sleeping in one of these? It'll be sort of like lying down," I say, trying to cheer her up.

Shear looks up at me, her eyes shining with tears.

So, I panic a little. I mean, I hate it when girls cry around me. I never have any idea what to do – do I hug them? Ask them what's wrong? Let them be? Seriously, I'm awful in situations like this.

What do I blurt out? "Why don't you take a nap, Shear."

Like she's some little kid who needs a nap in the middle of the day.

That actually makes her stare at me in surprise for a moment, then her eyes narrow.

Oh, crap. I'm in for it, now. The look on my face is probably totally idiotic because as soon as I said it, I knew it was the most wrong thing to say.

Shear bursts out laughing, and does this weird thing where she leaps up from where she's sitting to hug me.

Wait, what?

I hug her back, rubbing her shaking shoulders. Oh yeah, she's crying now, amidst her laughter. Well, at least she answered the 'do I hug or not' question I was asking myself moments ago...

After ten more emotional minutes (no, I'm not tearing up a little – it's just the omnipresent dust, I swear!) we separate, grinning tearfully.

Apparently being in the arena has turned me into a pseudo-girl. I'm not sure how I feel about that...

"Might as well take a rest here," Shear says at length. "If there's a moon tonight, we can walk some more at night."

I nod in agreement and pull out my knife to begin making an entrance to our tree house. We carefully remove the section of trunk that I've carved out, and Shear steps inside.

"...Cecil, there's something in here," she says, her feet making a crunching sound.

Oh, what if it's an anthill! I shudder at the thought, taking a step back before I can stop myself. But Shear doesn't sound alarmed, just... confused and surprised.

"Wh-what is it?" I ask manfully. Not.

"Food!" she exclaims, triumphantly holding up a slightly crushed package of salted crackers. Well, that explains the crunching. "Look, there's jerky, and dried fruit too!" She gleefully pulls these out, and I see that there are two packages of each of the different kinds of food. She immediately opens the package of crackers she stepped on, and practically inhales two of them.

I make myself slowly eat one, because while it seems like a lot now...

"We should check the other fallen trees," Shear says excitedly, after she eats a strip of jerky and another cracker. I end up eating about the same amount of food, so we're down to one and half packages of crackers and one and three quarter packages of jerky, plus the dried fruit packages.

"Yeah," I agree, carefully packing our newest supplies into my backpack. Shear keeps the opened package of crackers, and one of the dried fruit ones, which she puts in her jacket pouch.

After repositioning the section of wood, we set off in search of another fallen tree. It's funny, I thought there were so many of them, but now that we're actively trying to find them, we realize that there aren't as many as it seemed.

We break into the next one we find – it has the same supplies, which we add to the backpack. Things are really starting to look up, now.

"Should we find more?" Shear asks. "Or do you think we should just get more when we need it. I think this is enough for now, carrying more might be too much."

While my first instinct is to protest that I can easily carry the backpack, I realize that Shear's right. There's no point in carrying around food that we don't, at this point, need. It's all conveniently hidden, and there must not be that many tributes in the forest (we've only seen the Careers and Carson) so I doubt anyone else will be finding them any time soon. Even if they do, there's only so much a person can carry. It'll work out.

With our supplies replenished, the depressed mood that had descended upon finding the edge of the arena has also been lifted. We return to the edge of the arena and decide to hole up in the first fallen tree like we had planned before finding the caches of supplies.

We eat the rest of the open crackers and jerky, and then one of the packages of dried fruit. Without the spectre of impending hunger hanging over our head, like it was when we finished off our other supplies yesterday, the food is actually pretty good, if a little dry.

Our next problem is going to be finding a new way to purify our water.

Fortunately, our mentors decide to come through and a silver parachute floats down, landing with a thunk in front of me. Obviously, the gift is for me. Shear glances at me, and at my nod she eagerly rips it open. A matchbook, and another package of iodine tablets are the spoils.

So we have a week and a few days more of safe water supplies. We both thank our 'generous sponsors' – Shear a good deal more enthusiastically than me. I manage a smile that I think looks sincere, though.

"Do you want to take first watch, Cecil?" Shear asks, once we're both safely in the tree again. I won't lie, it was a little awkward the first few nights, but I've spent my fair share of nights with my younger sister huddled in my bed – nightmares, you know – so, like always, I fall back on the similarity of my sister and Shear to deal with it.

"Sure. I'll wake you when the moon's about halfway overhead?"

Shear nods, her eyelids already drooping. "Or if you're getting tired," she adds, deciding to use my chest as a pillow. I have to wonder how comfortable that is, but whatever.

"Yep. Will do," I agree, tucking the blanket more securely around her.

Within moments, her breath evens out, leaving me to periodically gaze out of the weird knotholes in the bark. The forest is a lot creepier in the dark, especially with the dim light of the moon. When the sky was permanently cloudy – I assume it was a ploy of the Gamemakers, of course – it was still brighter than it is now.

But having the moon back is comforting by itself, too. Now, if only it wasn't for this dead tree that I'm staying in, I could pretend I was back home. Who would have thought I'd actually want to go back to a place I only passively care about?

A/N: Aw, did anyone miss Cecil? I know I did, because I wrote this chapter in about two days, haha... (My updates will be as fickle as ever!)

Also it's nice to get a non-Career outlook, I think. None of that 'do I betray them now? no, it's too early. but I can't trust them!' that I found myself writing about a lot with Lyme and Sureal. XD

And Shear is getting a bigger part. I didn't intend for her to be such a big part, but Cecil needs someone to talk to and I find myself liking her... D:

More Career action next chapter, and a death. The two may or may not be related ~

Feedback is very much appreciated, for anyone who might be reading this.