Title: Don't Worry About What I'll Become
Author: Ella (thesewordselope)
Characters/Pairing: Foxface/Thresh
Rating: PG
Spoilers: For the first book.
Summary: His face was near expressionless, neither hard nor soft, neither friend nor foe (although that would turn out to be a false dichotomy).
Disclaimers: No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: Written for LJ user unityfic for the Girl On Fire Ficathon. Prompt: Foxface/Thresh, don't worry about what I'll become. Canon-compliant except for one minor detail.

I don't have time to make it back to the woods after I grab my bag. I know that the Twelves and the Twos will be approaching the Feast from that direction, so I head for the tall grass of the field instead. Yes, it's more dangerous because I don't know what to expect, but it'll provide cover because I'm short, and I already know the poisonous snakes from the nonpoisonous ones. It isn't what I'd prefer, but I'll be fine. After a little while, I can hear the blonde one from Two yelling. At first I think he saw me enter the field and that he's trying to intimidate me, but then I realize that he's yelling at someone else. I hear the words "she" and "mine". I guess the canon that went off a minute ago was for one of the girls, then. He's angry that someone took his kill.

I put my head down and keep running. I know that my hair will stick out against the soft greens and yellows of the grass, so I try to stay as low as possible. Blondie sounds just desperate enough to try to chase me down if he gets the clue that I'm nearby. The biggest problem right now is that I'm running blind. I haven't really been able to map this part of the arena, and I have no idea where I'm going.

I'm so busy trying to remember which side of me the woods are on that I miss the sounds of someone approaching, and I run smack into them. It's a bit like running into a brick wall, and before I know it, I'm on the ground, hands bloody, trying to catch my breath.

I look up and see the towering boy from Eleven with dark skin. He's so big that he blocks the sun, and all I really can see is his silhouette. He's not advancing on me, though, just muttering angrily to himself. "I cannot keep doing this!"

I look around frantically. If I run, he's certain to catch and overpower me. I haven't eaten in two days, and I'm not sure how much reserve strength I have. The sprint just from the Cornucopia to here took everything I had. My only option is to wait and observe: maybe I can talk my way out of this. "Doing... what?"

The boy looks like he wants to cry, which strikes me as very odd. "I cannot keep letting you go." He puts his hands on each side of his head and paces back and forth. "I have to do it. Now or later."

"I don't understand. When did you let me go before?" I get up off the ground, brushing off my knees. I know he's not going to kill me right now (if he's taking this much time to be conflicted about it, he isn't going to do it), so I reach into my Feast bag. Sure enough, there are food bars inside. Grain, honey, and nuts. Perfect. I decide to test the waters and offer him one to see what he does.

He shakes his head and waves one hand in my direction. "Not you. Twelve. I let her go. And now I'm letting you go."

"I-"

"GO, BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND!" he shouts. At that, I hear the boy from Two start to yell again. He sounds absolutely unhinged. Even worse, he sounds like he's getting closer. I look back at the dark boy one more time, and I notice that he is crying, just barely. I see one lone tear at the edge of his eye, and I wonder what happened to him back at the Feast. For the briefest moment, I want to reach out and touch his shoulder.

Instead, I turn and head for the woods. After all, I want to live.

We both ate alone in the training center. Most of the others clustered into groups of two to four when they took their meals, but not us. I see no point in making friends, and it would just get in the way of collecting information. At some point, however, he noticed me watching him. I watched them all to some extent, honestly, but he caught me lingering. How embarrassing.

I looked away quickly. I didn't want them to know I was studying them. I tried to focus on my soup, but when I risked a glance back up, he was still looking at me with his big, dark eyes. His face was near expressionless, neither hard nor soft, neither friend nor foe (although that would turn out to be a false dichotomy).

He stood up and moved toward me, and I felt a line of fire race up my spine. I wasn't ready for a confrontation. I'm a thinker, not a fighter, and right then I was thinking myself into a hole. I wanted to flee, but for some reason I was rooted to the spot, unable to move. This was probably because he hadn't broken eye contact with me from the time he noticed me looking until the moment he sat down across the table from me.

"You were staring at me," he said. Oh, the direct approach. What a way with words this one had.

"You're staring back," I said, eyes on my soup. Good one. Excellent reply.

"So that is what you do? You don't train, you don't fight, you just look?" I could hear the faint smile in his voice. It relaxed me a little, but only a little. He didn't seem to be a threat. Not an immediate threat, anyway. That was good. I could work with that.

"Observance is my strength. Just like strength is your... strength." He had a very large presence. It should have been intimidating, but it wasn't. I actually found his smile much more intimidating. I wish I could have said that I was trying to sound as flustered as I did, but it was more genuine than I would have wanted to admit.

"It is going to be hard for you."

I tried to stop myself from frowning. I was still trying to appear weak and helpless. Not that I needed a whole lot of help with that, seeing as how I'm thin, short, and I look young for my age. "What do you mean by that?" I played dumb.

He smiled wide, flashing giant teeth. Giant teeth for a giant guy. He pointed to my hair. "You will stick out like ripe berries, no matter where we are. It would not be hard to pick you from the bush." This could have been a threatening statement, but I generally trust my ability to read people, and it seemed as though he was just making conversation.

In fact, it seemed like he was making excuses for conversation.

I forced myself to smile. "Not much I can do about that, I guess." Actually, I already had plans to smear myself with mud, but there was no point in telling him that.

"You are not a killer," he said, as though he were commenting on the weather. It wasn't a question, just a statement.

"No. But you are, right?"

He frowned, as if considering this, and leaned back in his chair. "I will be," he said thoughtfully, as if he had more to add but was choosing his words carefully. I waited to see if he would elaborate. "You're not trying to make friends, I know, but I saw you looking, and I wanted to tell you that you're not fooling me."

"What? I'm not-" Before I could finish, he'd already walked away. For a moment I almost felt sorry that he left, but ultimately it was for the best. After all, only one of us could win.