The Hunger Games, and all its characters, do not belong to me.

I must thank The RPGenius for his fabulous editing skills, and Porchwood, for looking over this chapter and giving valuable feedback.


Chapter Six: Pyres and Proclamations

"The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire."

-Ferdinand Foch

Katniss was halfway back to the Seam with the cheese buns when she stopped. Peeta had urged her to head home without him and leave the bakery before his mother might return. But he was in pain. He could use her help. There was no reason she couldn't assist him beyond view of the bakery.

With a stubborn tilt of her chin, she turned on her heels and doubled back. Sure enough, Peeta had barely made it beyond the Square. His leg must be hurting him more than he'd let on.

Katniss strode over to him. All his focus was on favoring his ankle, and he didn't even look up at her approach. She drew up to him, taking hold of his wrist and ducking under his arm. Peeta blinked at her, surprised to find himself suddenly leaning on her shoulder.

"If you were in that much pain, you should have said so," she admonished.

"Don't know what you're talking about; I'm just out for a stroll," he quipped.

Katniss rolled her eyes. This was looking to be a long trek back to the Seam.


When they burst through the front door, Prim and her mother looked startled. Given the unexpectedness of their arrival and her current state - coated in patches of drying mud - she couldn't exactly blame them. In an attempt to forestall any inquiries about exactly how she'd ended up covered in the stuff, Katniss blurted, "Peeta hurt his leg. It needs to be looked at."

They both quickly rose from the table, and Prim started heating water while her mother gathered bandages and herbs that might help. Katniss felt a wave of gratitude. As soon as their expertise was required, there was no hesitation, no mention of whether payment would be forthcoming. The two Everdeen women just accepted that they were needed, and saved the details for later. That quality was one of the reasons her mother was a consummate healer, and Prim was well on her way to becoming the same.

As they moved back and forth, gathering materials and making preparations, Katniss helped Peeta into a chair. Then she kept out of the way at the edge of the room, placing her foraging bag by the sideboard. Just because they hadn't inquired about payment didn't mean they wouldn't enjoy what was offered. She pulled out the parcel, planning to divvy the buns and bring half to the Hawthornes.

The mouthwatering aroma of fresh bread and cheese filled the room, and even her mother paused, a roll of bandages falling from the bundle in her arms and rolling across the floor. There were at least two dozen buns in the package, enough for full bellies in both the Everdeen and Hawthorne homes.

Prim set down a steaming kettle at the side of the table and stepped away, giving her mother space to pour the hot water into a basin on the floor and get Peeta settled. As Prim moved back to where Katniss stood, her blue eyes hungrily devoured the offering from the bakery - each roll toasted golden brown, and shining with oil where the cheese was soaking through.

"They smell amazing" Prim whispered, her voice sounding awed. Katniss smiled. She appreciated any opportunity for Prim to behave like a twelve-year-old girl, and not a healer-in-training who saw and dealt with things far beyond her years.

She only ever traded for the least expensive loaves at the bakery - and day old ones at that. Nothing fancy, and nothing fresh. The cheese buns were a real treat. It was a pleasure to be able to present these to her Prim, and Peeta had made it possible. Katniss felt her residual irritation with him ebbing.

Prim took her time choosing the bun she found most beautiful. The smile on her face was worth anything. Taking a gigantic bite, she sighed in delight and mumbled ecstatically, her words indiscernible around the mouthful of bread.

Katniss laughed and took one for herself. She'd wanted to try these for ages. As she sank her teeth into the the roll, the pillow-soft bread gave way to a heavenly cheese filling, still warm and the very core. Katniss closed her eyes. She was in raptures.

When she opened her eyes, she was disconcerted to see Peeta grinning at her over his shoulder. Turning her back to the others to hide her blush, Katniss started wrapping up half the cheese buns.

Prim gave a startled squeak when she noticed her mother was already gently feeling the bones in Peeta's ankle, and rushed back to the table. Grabbing a spare rag, Katniss moved to the bedroom to wipe some of the mud from her skin and clothes. She'd need a proper bath, but that could wait until the Peeta situation was taken care of. He still had nowhere to stay tonight.

Once she'd cleaned up a bit, she took the rolls over to Hazelle. Katniss made the request she'd been debating about on the way home, and Hazelle graciously accepted.

By the time she returned, Peeta's ankle was elevated and Prim was gingerly laying a poultice over it. Her mother had determined that it was sprained and quite swollen, but luckily not broken.

Katniss listened to the prognosis and recommendation for recovery - a week of staying off his feet, followed by mild exercise and stretches over the following few weeks to strengthen the ankle and minimize damage - dubious that Peeta would be given the luxury of time to recuperate. And now that he had been adequately seen to, her mother asked the question Katniss had been dreading. "How did you hurt your ankle, Peeta?"

Determined that Peeta not be embarrassed when she'd invited him here as a refuge from his situation at home, Katniss quickly interjected. "He tripped. I was there," she said in a tone clipped with finality.

Her mother glanced over to Peeta for confirmation, perhaps aware that more might be at play, but he seemed to suddenly find the floor in front of him interesting. Katniss continued, desperate to break the silence of that moment. "I'll get some pillows. The wooden chairs aren't very comfortable."

After Peeta's back, neck, and ankle were cushioned to Katniss's satisfaction, Prim insisted on heating more water for a bath. Katniss wanted to protest, but Prim assured her they had things under control and Peeta wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. When she not-so-subtly hinted that something smelled, strangely, like a pig sty, Katniss sheepishly gave in.

They set up the dented old tin basin in the bedroom. Prim poured a kettle of boiling water into it, and Katniss added a quantity of tepid water. As she disrobed and shook out her hair, Prim stooped to gather the muddied garments. "It's almost primetime, so Mom and I are leaving to watch with the Hawthornes soon. You can join us after you help Peeta home, or he can stay and watch here with you. Either way, keep him off his ankle as much as possible."

Katniss nodded as her sister left. She had doubts about whether Peeta would be able to get any rest for his ankle. It didn't seem likely. And one way or another, he would have to make it over to the Hawthornes'. Katniss had promised herself she'd be there for them through the toughest viewing hours, so she couldn't stay here. And Peeta didn't know it yet, but he was sleeping there tonight.

The house grew quiet as Katniss scrubbed her skin with their well-used sponge. Every once in a while, she could hear the creak of a wooden chair, as Peeta shifted his position by the stove. It was strange, knowing he was sitting and waiting just one room away. Strange to be alone together in her house.

When she'd finished her bath, evening was falling and the most eventful hours of the Games were rapidly approaching. Katniss quickly got dried and dressed, and re-entered the kitchen, braiding her wet hair.

She stopped in the doorway and saw Peeta's eyes sweep over her. Her hair was in disarray, with wet tendrils clinging to her neck and jawline, and the loose braid hanging over her shoulder like a bundle of dark ropes. Her skin was flushed from the steaming bath, and getting warmer still under his regard. Maybe he was judging her. They probably didn't take hip baths in little tin tubs in Town.

She stood there, not knowing exactly what to say, but he saved her the trouble. "Prim said you'd probably watch the Games here while they went to your neighbor's. And that you'd help me home after primetime."

"She's wrong on both counts. You and I are going to the Hawthornes' house."

He shook his head. "I don't want to impose. I'll just watch here, and I can make it back on my own. I know the last thing anyone needs is an unfamiliar face around when they're trying to grieve." The house grew silent again as thoughts of Delly settled around her and Peeta.

He fiddled with his shirt cuff. "I can't believe she's gone. It doesn't feel real. It doesn't feel like I won't just see her again, on the street, or at her parent's shop, or coming to pick up some bread."

He ran his hand through his hair, and his lip trembled. "It's like she just turned the corner, you know? Like she has to still be here, just out of sight, because there's never been a District 12 without Delly, not for me."

Katniss sank down into a seat across the table, wishing she knew something she could say that would make sense, or make him feel better. But there was nothing.

"And the whole time, I know she's lost, thousands of miles away in a world so different it might as well be another planet. Alone. Insignificant to all of them."

Without thinking, Katniss reached across the table and laid her hand over his. Peeta was hurting, and it was all she could do.

"In my head, I know she's gone, but somehow, I can't believe it yet. And I have to wonder, which is worse? The denial that I've lost a friend, or the time when I stop believing I'll look up one day and see her, just as she always was?"

Peeta took a shuddering breath. "Is it like that for you, with Gale? It's probably even worse. At least I know what happened with Delly," he mused, sadly.

Katniss bit her lip and stared down at the table top. "Not exactly." She glanced up at him quickly and then back down. She wanted to tell him about Gale and Rory. Both she and Peeta had seen loved ones sent off to the Games. And while the circumstances had shifted dramatically, the toll it took on the people left behind had not. Of anyone in Twelve, what Peeta was experiencing seemed most similar to her own situation. He deserved the truth. And some hope. But Katniss she couldn't outright tell him. She'd promised.

"I have some idea of what happened to Gale. I know where he's not ."

"In the arena, you mean," Peeta clarified.

"More than that."

Peeta furrowed his brow in incomprehension, and Katniss sighed, frustrated. There was no way anyone would guess that Gale had escaped Capitol custody and gone on the run. Even Hazelle had barely believed it, when Katniss had hastily divulged her discovery in whispers the night before.

The Hawthorne matron had been reluctant to believe, but then Katniss had plainly seen the relief and joy for Gale on her face. And the way it warred with her grief and despair for Rory.

Katniss's thoughts returned to the present as she got to her feet. "Never mind that. You're not going back tonight."

Peeta looked confused, so Katniss elaborated, "You're going to stay with the Hawthornes. I already checked, and Hazelle is fine with it."

"What?" Peeta stammered, surprised.

"We should be over there already. I'll help you get there, don't worry."

"Katniss, I couldn't possibly-"

"Spend the night goodness-knows-where, while you wait to sneak back home for the morning rush? I couldn't agree more." Katniss would be damned if she let his mother lay a finger on him again tonight. He was staying in the Seam for the night and that was that.

"Besides, I know you wouldn't want to offend Hazelle's hospitality by not showing up." She helped pull Peeta to his feet, and braced her shoulders under his arm for support.

"Of course not," he answered, still clearly worried.

"Well then, hurry up." And with that, Katniss nudged Peeta to begin hobbling toward the Hawthornes.'

As they neared the front door, Peeta paused. "Wait, what are the names of Gale's siblings? I don't know, and I should."

"Vick and Posy." Katniss made to keep moving, but Peeta held back.

"I thought there were three of them."

She swiveled her head to stare him in the eye. "There are. But Rory's not here."

"Is he watching from the square?"

"No." Katniss hesitated. Peeta had been wondering who was in the arena in Gale's place. Maybe this is how she could tell him without telling him. "That's why you're staying here, actually. There are a couple of extra beds now. So if you don't want to sleep in Gale's bed, you can take Rory's ." She raised her eyebrow meaningfully.

Peeta looked thoughtful. And troubled. "So...Rory's not coming back tonight?"

"No. He won't be here. But you'll probably see him." Katniss gave him another speaking glance, willing him to read the truth in her face.

Peeta's mouth dropped open, and she could see the dawning comprehension in his eyes. Bullseye.

"No!"

Katniss nodded gravely.

"But that's completely against everything-"

"It is." Her expression was stony, but she poured every bit of anger, hopelessness, and pain she was feeling into those two words. It felt good to vocalize some of the rage and despair that had been churning inside her.

Peeta shook his head helplessly, looking around as though there were answers to be found in the surrounding Seam windows and alleys.

After a few moments, he gathered himself. "Katniss, I definitely shouldn't be imposing. The last thing they need is-"

""Peeta!" she interrupted for the second time in just moments. "You're staying here for the night. I assure you, it's not an intrusion. We've all been feeling particularly powerless with everything that's going on, so it'll be nice to actually be able to do something, and help someone out. Just go along with it." Katniss rapped on the door as an underscore to her words.

Hazelle answered and graciously welcomed them inside. After the requisite words of gratitude were exchanged - Peeta, for their hospitality, and Hazelle, for the offering he'd left on their doorstep earlier that week following the reaping - she showed Peeta into the main room of the house.

The remaining members of the Hawthorne family, along with Prim and her mother, were gathered there. Every chair in the house was crowded around the television. Katniss introduced Peeta to Vick and Posy.

Vick barely responded, caught up in his own world of mourning, intently watching the screen for any sign or mention of Rory. Posy, who was too young to understand everything going on, smiled bashfully at Peeta and waved hello.

Katniss's mother came over to greet them. "Hazelle tells me you're staying here tonight, Peeta. You shouldn't be up and about, you need to keep weight off that ankle," she chided gently. Katniss scowled. She knew that, but Peeta also needed a place to sleep, so there was no avoiding the move over here.

"Why don't you lie down, Peeta?" her mother continued. "The more rest you can get, the better. Go show Peeta where he'll be sleeping, Katniss."

"What about the Games?" she asked, annoyed.

"We don't have enough chairs as it is," Hazelle volunteered weakly. "And you heard your mother, bedrest is the doctor's orders." She was trying to put on a brave face and be hospitable, but it was clear to see that she was struggling to hide how severely the upcoming broadcast was affecting her. Mrs. Everdeen watched Hazelle, concerned, then laid a hand on Peeta's shoulder. "We won't tell if you skip tonight's viewing. Katniss can catch you up tomorrow."

"Okay." The gratitude and relief was palpable in Peeta's voice. "That sounds good." He was probably more than worn out at this point, Katniss realized.

In all honesty, Katniss was a little relieved at this turn of events too. Hazelle was the epitome of grace under pressure, but if things went poorly in the arena tonight, Katniss wanted to be able to focus solely on helping the Hawthorne's through it. If she could resolve Peeta's sleeping arrangements before whatever horrors the Gamemakers had in mind for tonight started, all the better.

Katniss led Peeta to the door to the room where Gale, Rory, and Vick had all slept only weeks ago. She barely stuck her head in, merely pointing from the doorway. "Vick sleeps there. But that pallet was Gale's, and that one is Rory's. You can use whichever you need."

Peeta stared at the pallets, unmoving. She bristled momentarily, thinking he was shocked that they couldn't all afford proper beds, like merchants had in Town. But then Katniss saw that there was a quietly devastated look to Peeta's expression, and she realized he was staring specifically at Rory's pallet.

She bit her lip. He'd found out only moments ago that the Capitol had abducted a child and sent them to the Games without a reaping, without warning, without a word. Now he was seeing Rory's possessions, left behind as a silent testament to an unspoken crime. Of course he was still shaken.

Briefly, Katniss let her eyes fall on the pallet, the rumpled blanket and pillow still dented with the impression of Rory's head. Peeta didn't know this was the very scene of the abduction. Didn't know like she did that this was the very last place Rory had ever felt safe.

It felt like everything was closing in on her and the people she loved, and everything was lost, or soon to be. Katniss could feel her breath quickening as her eyes prickled with tears and her throat threatened to close up. She didn't want this to be real. It couldn't be real.

Someone took her hand, and Katniss realized her face was wet. She tried to shake the thoughts away and ground herself in the present moment. Peeta was standing next to her, his hand cradled hers. And just as he'd described earlier in her kitchen, reality was becoming bewildering and totally unrecognizable.

But there were people waiting for her in the next room, people that were going to need her tonight. Her growing awareness that the world was quickly unraveling around them wasn't helping.

"Katniss. Are you okay?" Peeta asked sadly, already knowing the answer.

How could she respond? She stood there, feeling as if she was floundering, until she heard Prim's voice in the main room of the house. Being strong for Prim was something Katniss knew how to do. She dashed away the moisture on her cheeks. "I should get back. I'll come back to check on you in a little bit. Is there anything else you need?"

Peeta shook his head, eyes full of empathy. "I'm more than fine, thank you." Katniss hesitated at the door, afraid of what awaited them during tonight's viewing. Peeta squeezed her hand. "Go on. They need you."

She nodded and turned to face the Capitol's worst. When she rejoined the Hawthornes, Prim pulled her aside.

"Where's Rory?" Prim whispered. "Hazelle said he was sick days ago, but she wouldn't let us see him, which made no sense. And he's clearly not here!"

There was fear and alarm in Prim's eyes. Their mother had to be unsettled too. Katniss wanted to bury her head in her hands. Hazelle hadn't told Prim or their mother, and she couldn't go against that.

Katniss didn't want to keep secrets from Prim, but she also wanted to shield her little duck from the truth of what happened. But It seemed impossible that Rory's whereabouts could be kept under wraps for long. And it would be completely unacceptable if Rory's fate went unrecognized. Katniss was completely torn.

"Prim, I can't tell you. The most I can say is that something is very, very wrong." It was clear from the expression on Prim's face that she didn't accept that. "I promise that when the time is right, I'll help you understand."

Prim frowned and furrowed her brows. "You don't have to always be the brave one, Katniss. And you don't need to protect me. I think if I'm old enough to be reaped, I'm old enough to shoulder some of this burden, whatever it is. These past few days, you look as though the world's turned upside down. I thought it must be because of Gale being in the arena. But now Rory's missing. What's going on?"

Templesmith stopped singing his imbecilic praises of the tributes from Two at that moment, and Katniss was saved the difficulty of trying to answer. When the coverage switched to live footage of the arena, all attention was focused on the screen.

Her stomach dropped as she watched. Nothing for days, and now they were leading right off with "Gale." It was a distant overhead shot of Rory, no surprise there, but it was an acknowledgement nonetheless. The Gamemakers weren't ignoring him anymore. It felt like a menacing reminder that they hadn't forgotten Gale's stunt during the interview, and it made ice to run through Katniss's veins.

The night progressed relatively uneventfully. Another bad sign. The Careers had stockpiled all the supplies they could find near the Cornucopia, and since they'd picked off all the easiest targets in their previous nightly hunts, they mostly sat around a fire bickering, waiting for the remaining desperate tributes to grow so hungry, they'd risk anything for some sustenance. It had been hours, the Capitolites must be getting bored. And as the minutes ticked inexorably by, the pit of dread that had settled in Katniss's stomach coiled tighter and tighter.

The cameras kept switching back to Rory. He would be just barely visible through the foliage from one angle, then they'd show another tribute. Next there would be a glimpse of him through one of the distorted lenses situated in the knot of a tree. And back to another tribute.

Something was going to happen tonight. Katniss knew it. And even knowing there was nothing she could do, it was impossible to sit still. Katniss looked around. Vick was riveted to the screen, clearly thankful to see that Rory was okay. She didn't think he could discern the Gamemaker's intent in the way they cut shots together, building up to something. Prim looked perturbed by what she was seeing, possibly starting to realize that the person they were watching wasn't actually Gale.

Turning, Katniss looked over to her mother. Her hand was over her mouth, face stricken. She clearly knew something was coming. Next to her, Hazelle was ashen and shrinking into herself, as if she could somehow brace herself for whatever the Arena had in store.

And Posy...Posy was nowhere to be seen. Katniss rose, thankful for a reason to break away momentarily. She needed a breath of air; the glow of the screen was oppressive, and the sounds of the arena were suffocating her.


Peeta couldn't get comfortable. It wasn't because of his ankle. It wasn't the unfamiliarity of the surroundings. It was because he still felt like it was wrong to intrude on the Hawthorne's privacy on such a night. That, and he felt incredibly guilty for his interest in the rare glimpse into Katniss's life.

Their ranks were decimated, but they still presented a fiercely united front. As soon as he and Katniss had arrived here, she'd pulled Hazelle into a tight hug. Peeta knew she was desperately trying to bolster their strength with her own in these moments, as if her resilience and resolve could be transferred through their clasped arms and proximal torsos.

Peeta railed against himself for using so solemn a circumstance to learn about Katniss, but he was powerless to look away. The flashes of pain and love that washed across her face as she struggled to hold the ravaged and patched family together made him want to reach out to her, and comfort her in some way. The insight was precious to him, though no less tragic.

He'd noted with interest that Katniss seemed much more open and comfortable with Hazelle. She'd addressed the older woman as an equal, as though together they represented a seamless unit, joined in determination to see their families survive. Mrs. Everdeen's interjection regarding his recovery had clearly been unwelcome.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door creaked slowly open. At first, it looked like there was no one on the other side, but then Peeta noticed gray eyes sparkling at him further down than he'd originally looked.

Posy slipped into the room with a smile. She likely didn't recognize the significance of the events on screen, Peeta realized. It was a small mercy.

She sidled over to his pallet, clearly a little shy, but still bold enough to come and investigate their visitor. Peeta sat up, shifting his leg gingerly, to greet her. He tried to look open and friendly. And definitely not like an imposition.

The little girl studied him, curious and quiet, starting with his propped ankle and ending with his yellow hair.

"I'm Posy," she said informatively.

"I'm Peeta," he replied.

She seemed to consider that for a moment, then nodded, deeming his name or his person acceptable.

"My brother's bigger than you."

Peeta's shoulders lowered a bit. "He's taller. I know."

"You have funny hair."

And as if that was sufficient warning, Posy proceeded to climb up onto the pallet and into his lap.

Charmed, Peeta sat obligingly still so she could settle, but that wasn't Posy's intention. She stood up, feet balancing precariously on his thigh. His hands went out to steady her, but she had her own ideas of how to maintain balance. Posy reached immediately for the top of his head and took two greedy handfuls of hair.

Apparently, his ash blond curls, so different from her straight black locks, were too novel to resist. She flexed her fingers, giggling at the springiness of the waves grasped tightly in her fists. "My friend has a dolly with hair like you."

Peeta smiled faintly. He had no problem sacrificing the feeling in his scalp for her amusement, but her feet were constantly shifting, and the movement was jolting his leg all the way down to his injured ankle.

Still, Peeta was hesitant to disrupt her. He didn't want to disappoint her or give her the impression that her diversion was unwelcome. He had almost no experience with little children. How did you tell one to stop having fun in a way that made them still like you?

Before he could decide on the best way to proceed, Katniss was at his side after a completely soundless approach. She gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes.

"For odds' sake, Posy. We want to let Peeta recover, not add a headache to his list of ailments," she tutted softly as she carefully extricated Posy's fingers from his hair. Before Peeta could even register the liberation of his scalp from the little girl's grasp, Katniss had gathered Posy in her arms and whisked her up and away back toward the door.

"You know, you'd don't have to just go along with everything. You can tell her if she needs to be more careful of your ankle."

Peeta's face colored. He felt foolish. He didn't know how to behave around little girls, having only older brothers and being the youngest. Apparently, letting one walk all over oneself (or climb, as it were) was a sign of ineptitude. He likely looked about as mature as Posy now. Meanwhile, Katniss behaved with all the calm humor and decisive authority of a seasoned caretaker.

"Right. Got it," he mumbled.

"He's got doll hair," Posy volunteered.

Katniss bit her lip as the ghost of a smile teased her lips. This was just what she needed after an afternoon of being humiliated in front of Peeta. "Does he now?"

The youngest Hawthorne nodded authoritatively.

"Well, Peeta's got to get some rest, and it's high time you did the same," Katniss said, in a voice that was kind but brokered no argument. She paused in the doorway and looked back to him. "Goodnight, Peeta."

The corner of her mouth was tilted upward, and his breath caught. Earlier tonight, Katniss had left the room barely able to hold back her tears.

Whether she understood what was happening in the world around her or not, Posy Hawthorne was a genius.


Katniss's amusement was a momentary respite, but reality intruded brutally and quickly.

After she got Posy to turn in for the night, she rejoined the others. The cameras had returned to Rory's progress when she sat back down next to Prim. It was dusk in the arena, but he'd stopped looking for a place to bed down for the night. Instead, he seemed to be hovering at the edge of a glade. He circled, round and round, peeking into the clearing of trees.

Something had been left behind by another tribute. It was a wrapped bundle, and it could be food. Perhaps someone had heard the Careers approaching and fled in such haste that they left provisions behind.

Whatever it was, it was just sitting there. Rory was clearly tempted. Katniss felt her heart rise to her throat. He'd be more vulnerable, moving out in the open to get it. And it looked too convenient. But Rory had to be starving by now, and though she was dismayed, Katniss wasn't surprised when she saw him take his first tentative steps into the glade.

No one dared take a breath as the cameras above tracked him getting closer and closer to whatever it was that had been left behind. Foreboding gnawed at the pit of Katniss's stomach. Something wasn't right. There was an eerie hush in the glade, as if the sounds of the forest had dropped away to see what happened.

Rory had just reached the bundle when there was a swoosh, and a net swept up from below the leaf covering on the floor of the clearing, knocking Rory off his feet and surrounding him. He cried out in alarm and began to struggle, thrashing and trying to pull through the mesh.

Hazelle began to weep in despair and Vick sat frozen in front of the screen. Katniss reached over and gripped Prim's hand with all her might. They'd heard Marvel bragging about laying booby traps for hungry tributes. She'd assumed the traps had been poorly made, because there hadn't been any evidence of them working for days. Katniss had forgotten they existed at all.

Rory struggled for what felt like hours. The mesh was too strong for him to break through, and he was hopelessly entangled. He couldn't seem to find any edge or seam to weaken. Eventually his movements slowed as he exhausted himself. At least temporarily, he gave up trying to get out.

Rory laid there, helpless, as the sky above the Arena darkened. He began fumbling with something, and Katniss realized that whatever he'd been trying to reach had been food. Rory was wisely making the best of the situation and getting nourishment while he could.

The Careers might check their traps tomorrow. Or another tribute could find him. Or maybe no one would, and he'd die of dehydration in the center of the glade. Katniss bit her lip. No. There had to be a way he could get out of this.

As twilight crept in, Rory began to cry softly. He sounded drained, hopeless, and so clearly defeated, that Katniss felt like she was dying inside to hear it. The cameras above zoomed in a little closer. Emboldened by the dying light, the Gamemakers were unable to resist the opportunity to exploit pain and tragedy.

"Rory…" Prim whispered, in horrified recognition. She dropped Katniss's hand.

The arena sky began to lighten in one direction. Katniss furrowed her brow. Night was just falling, how could it be getting brighter? Dark flashes suddenly blocked out the feed for brief snatches of time, and Katniss realized that they were birds flying past the cameras.

Leaning forward, she squinted at the screen. There were shadows moving along the floor of the clearing as well. Forest animals, all moving in one direction. Katniss jumped to her feet, panicked, as understanding set in.

Rory realized what was happening in the same instant, and began scrambling to claw to his way out of the net. "No! No, no, no…please! " he begged as his fingers fumbled in the dark.

The plea fell flat as the muffled roar of a distant fire became audible. All eyes in Panem were on the trapped boy in the clearing, as if every viewer stood there with him. But to Rory, he was completely alone. No one was there to help, no one was there to even hear him.

"What?! What's happening?" Prim demanded, her voice choked with alarm. Vick began to cry, newly afraid. Before Katniss could answer, smoke began drifting lazily into the glade as the fire approached, rendering any response she could give unnecessary.

It was all a sick statement, Katniss realized, that Rory should die by fire. Gale had looked so powerful, so incandescent when he entered the City Circle on that chariot, enrobed in flames. He'd been a triumph, the 'boy on fire.' And in the interview he'd proven how hotly that fire raged.

Now the Gamemakers were going to make a mockery of the title he'd earned. As far as Panem was concerned, it was Gale in the clearing. And the Gamemakers wanted to show everyone at home that those fiery words only served to consume him in the end. How fitting they must think it, Katniss thought with disgust.

The fire was close enough now that one half of the clearing was illuminated in flickering air was choked with smoke, and when Rory wasn't coughing violently, he was calling futilely for help.

The smoke grew thicker and blacker by the second, and Katniss knew it must be searing Rory's lungs. No one in the mining district was unfamiliar with the dangers of fire and smoke inhalation. Mining tunnels were known to explode in violent flare-ups, and the Seam was a coal-dusted tinderbox.

Rory would probably pass out from asphyxiation before the flames reached him. Katniss tried to tell herself it was a small mercy, but she knew too well there was no such thing in the arena, and no dressing up the horror that Rory was about to endure.

The cameras zoomed still closer, thirsting for torment, and gluttonous with the need to revel in misfortune. But it was this rapaciousness for pain and misery that was the Gamemakers' weakness. Because in taking their fill of Rory's end, they once again let their guard down. And like his brother before him, Rory had a knack for catching the Capitol unawares.

Knowing there were mere minutes left of his life, Rory abandoned hope and latched onto spite. The Capitol would regret every second of his last moments.

Though the roar of the approaching blaze was quickly becoming deafening, every microphone in the vicinity had been tuned to Rory's cries. And so his words, suddenly bold and determined, carried clearly into every home in the nation.

"My name is Rory Hawthorne! I am fourteen years old, and I was never reaped! My brother is Gale, and he was never here! He escaped the arena! He was nev-"

The camera abruptly cut away, denying the viewers hungering for human suffering their promised banquet. And the Hawthornes were spared witnessing Rory's death.

But Rory wasn't finished yet. In their haste, the Gamemakers frantically switched the footage to the next nearest tribute, which happened to ben the fox-faced girl from Five.

She was scrambling out of the tree she'd been hiding in, as the forest fire was rapidly spreading. The girl from Five had been steadily stealing supplies from the Career's stockpile, and things she'd swiped kept getting caught on the branches as she descended.

It was taking her longer than it should have to get down from the tree, and because of that, she was worrisomely close to the approaching blaze. And within earshot of Rory. As she neared the ground, Rory's voice filtered through the thundering flames in snatches - desperate but certain, doomed but brave.

"...name is Rory...taken from Twelve...Gale never..."

By now Foxface had reached the ground. Katniss expected her to scramble around beneath the trunk of the tree, gathering items she'd dropped before bolting to safety. But instead she just stood as if frozen in place and listened.

Only snatches of words and phrases broke through the din of the inferno now. "-ame is Ror-...Gale esca-...Never here… -Rory!"

Then all sound of a human voice died away, and there was only the relentless roar of the unnatural fire. There were tear tracks on Foxface's cheeks, glowing in the flickers of approaching light.

The vibration of a tree crashing to the ground in flames not far off was sufficient to jar her into action, and the tribute from Five darted in the opposite direction as fast as she could, to the resounding boom of cannon fire.

The damage was done on both sides. Rory was dead. And Panem had heard the truth.

Katniss slowly returned to the Hawthorne's living room. There was no movement, no sound. She was still on her feet, as if her fight or flight instinct could have somehow helped the situation.

Vick had fled into his mother's arms, and Hazelle was holding onto him for dear life, rocking back and forth as her body shook with silent, wrenching sobs. Her own mother sat off to the side of the pair in shock. Katniss reached out for Prim, but the younger girl shrugged her away, hunching in on herself.

The trumpets of the Capitol anthem blared early, and Katniss turned back in time to see a picture of Rue and Gale appear in the night sky over the arena. She hadn't even heard the cannon for Rue. But with Gale, the Gamemakers were trying to regain control of narrative of the Games after Rory tore down their artifice. It seemed a pathetic attempt on their part.

They quickly switched to post-primetime coverage. It seemed obvious Templesmith was attempting to do some hasty damage control. When he started in on how a combination of hunger, thirst, and cowardice had clearly rendered Gale delusional and raving like a madman in his last moments, Katniss turned the screen away and threw her coat over the set to muffle the sound. There were no on and off buttons on the capitol-issued television sets. When the Capitol wanted an audience, Panem was forced to watch.

But not now. Their combined families, barely surviving together and already fractured beyond recognition, now seemed decimated beyond repair. Katniss looked at the faces around her, and wondered how they were possibly going to go on.

It would be a different world they woke to, she knew.


Thank you very much for reading! It's another heavy chapter I'm afraid, but that's the general tenor of this story. I hope you will consider leaving me a review to let me know what you think so far!

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