A/N: I own none of the Hunger Games characters. And if you can't tell, this is in Rue's POV.

I often picture the invisible things of this world as something tangible, something real. The ties between people are ever-fluctuating ropes and threads. The ties between some people are tenuous threads, relationships just beginning or barely holding on. Some are thick, nearly unbreakable ropes. Some are somewhere in between, cords that will break if enough pressure is applied. And some are eerily similar to the net that holds me captive now: thin, invisible, and impossible to snap.

The boy from One runs into the clearing, spear in hand and the hints of a smug smile playing across the edge of his lips. Before I can process what is going on, there is an unimaginable pain in my stomach, and the spear's wooden handle protrudes from it. I look at him, the boy from One, and I hate him. One second later, I feel a trace of sorrow for something I can barely understand. He is not surrounded by a network of ties. He is unconnected, drifting isolated and alone even from his supposed allies. A tear slips down my cheek, and the pain comes back. I scream, and inside I know I'm dying.

Katniss runs into the clearing, glances at me, and shoots One in the throat before he can run. I look at her, and the rope connecting us stretching and strenghting into one of the thin, clear ties that are stronger than any other. She begins to cry, murmuring, "Rue." She knows, but she doesn't want to believe it. I look at the web of ties, from tiny threads to the thickest ones for my family, and for Katniss. Somehow, I know that they all must break before I can truly leave. "Katniss," I whisper. "Sing to me."

She stands there for a moment, accepting, and then the clearing is filled with her clear voice. I lie there, in pain, but still listening, entranced. As she sings I watch all my ties, instead of snapping or unraveling, begin to fade and thin, stretching until they are a delicate gossamer. I begin to drift, and yet, the threads don't snap, they just fly with me. They trail behind me as I rise, leaving myself to drown in her voice and the flowers she surrounds me with. I do not have to go alone, and for that I thank her.

I hope you liked this; reviews would be greatly appreciated as I have not written in a while (My apologies for the shortness). The idea of the threads popped into my head, and it seemed to fit Rue perfectly.