My father is chasing me along the beach. The sun is shining, the waves graze the sand elegantly. Seagulls fly overhead, calling to one another. Light bounds across the ocean and the spray washes over the shore. Mother sits in a chair under a parasol, reading a book, but the title is indecipherable.

"Raaahhh!" Father is a sea monster, chasing me, the mermaid, across the beach. I've grown lands by going on land, like the fairytale mother told me once.

"You can't catch me Daddy!"

"Yes I can, mermaid princess!" He catches up to me and grabs my legs. I giggle senselessly and roll about on the sand with him. He pins me down and growls above me. "I told you I'd get you!"

"Please don't eat me!" I say, still laughing.

"Too late." Father's eyes grow wide and his growl rumbles once more. It's more of a snarl now. Then his head flies back and he cackles. The scene shivers and transforms. Mother fades into darkness.

"Mummy! Help!" But she's not there. A chestnut tree springs in her place. I look around to my father again. But he's been replaced as well. A great orange beast has me pinned to the floor, green ooze seeping from its gums. I bat at its face but its gaze doesn't falter. My hands are small and useless; I'm still a child, after all. It stares deep into me, through me. I'm a snack.

I scream and cry for my parents, but neither of them come to my aid.

I hear another voice, wracked with sobs.

Thaddeus is beneath another beast, ten or so metres away. I call to him, and I feel myself age as I do. But I can't help him, there's nothing I can do. I've failed him.

Another scream.

My stepfather, Eri, lies clawing at his own predator in the other direction. He lashes desperately at its face, making nought but a faint scratch on the surface of its skin. He saved me once. And once again, I find myself unable to save him.

"MAGS!"

I sit upright. My eyes fly open.

I yelp in pain as my shoulder burns from the movement. I'm forced to lie down again and take in my surroundings that way.

I'm still in the overgrown park. Beta is nowhere to be seen. I consider calling for her, but that would be foolish.

Sun tears through the leaves above my head. It must be around midday. I turn my neck to look around. There are backpacks strewn across the grass nearest me, probably for coverage. Though the grass is long enough to hide me as it is. An enormous oak towers a little to the left.

I'm in the Hunger Games. The 11th, I remind myself. I volunteered for a little girl. I was the first volunteer from District 4. I killed two people. I'm a murderer.

"Hey, you're awake!"

I flinch at the noise and remain still. The footsteps are light as they get closer. I shut my eyes and pretend I don't exist. I'm not here, go away. I'm not awake. Leave me alone.

Someone crouches over me, blocking out the sun. A finger pokes my forehead.

"Mags? Hello, Mags?"

I open my eyes once more, recognising the voice. Piccolo grins. That damned, beautiful smile. My mirrored response is weaker.

"How're you feeling?"

"Uh," I sit up, ignoring the pain, almost, "my shoulder's killing me. What happened?"

"Glad you asked," he says. "Your ally tried to kill you. We got to her before she could finish the job."

"B-Beta's dead?"

"What? No 'thank you, Piccolo, for saving my life. You're so dashing and amazing'?"

"Ha-ha. No, but really. Thanks for saving me. How did you know where we were?"

"Are you kidding?" He raises an eyebrow. "You weren't exactly quiet when you got chased by those mutts. You're lucky we found you before the Careers did."

"What do you mean 'we'?" I remember that he'd been allied with Anton from Six and the beastly girl from Twelve, and that my question is now irrelevant.

"Myself, Anton and Moira. They're out hunting, told me to watch you because it'd be easier for you to wake up and see me than either of them. Moira is really sorry for whacking you at the Cornucopia, you know."

I feel a small tinge of pain ring through my head, remembering the violent smack from Moira's club. I was lucky, really, that she hadn't just used her other, spiked, one first. I laugh under my breath, though, because the girl seemed pretty pleased with herself when she had me pinned underneath her weight.

"Ah, it's fine. I've barely noticed it."

"Well that bruise doesn't look too nice."

Piccolo holds up a piece of glass and I notice it for the first time. The bruise is yellowing, but otherwise it looks fine. No sign of opened skin. But I can barely see anymore of myself in the glass. Come to think of it, I don't really want to.

My shoulder is another story. I reach back to feel the wound and find that it has been stitched up. I pull my hand away but there's nothing on it.

"How long have I been out?"

"'Bout a day and a half. You got a sponsor gift, a pot of healing cream." He opens a backpack and hands me the pot. There's a note wrapped around it: Don't lose this one. "I stitched you up. Just used the basic skills I learned in training." He presents another smug grin.

"Well aren't you just fantastic," I say.

"Yes, I am. Now, do you think you can stand up?"

I move my legs and there seem to be showing no signs of protest, so I get up. My shoulder ripples once more as the skin stretches and the wound sears.

I look around again and realise there must be about twelve backpacks here. There's a variety of weapons resting against the oak tree; I take note of my own in the pile. I wonder how they got all of these from the Cornucopia. I hadn't even seen Piccolo or Anton that first day, so they must have been in and out in less than a minute. I'm impressed.

"So where are the others?"

"Hunting." He points to the small bundle of fur, and I spot a couple of bloodied rabbits and squirrels. "Running out of stock." This alliance has been really efficient, I see. Good thing I joined them when I did.

"Speaking of food, is there any chance I can get something to eat? I'm starving."

"Sure." Piccolo reaches into one of his jacket's pockets and tosses me a bag of dried fruit.

"Thanks!" I say, catching it and tearing it open. The sweet taste rushes over my tongue, but it mixes with something foul.

"Yeah, I was going to offer you a toothbrush."

I glare at him. "No need to be rude."

He laughs and bends to pick up a backpack. "There should be one in... here... yeah, here you go." He hands me the bright pink hygiene tool and a half-full tube of toothpaste.

"We don't waste water so you'll have to do it without, sorry."

"That doesn't bother me, I'm just grateful to have nice teeth again."

As I brush my teeth thoroughly, he explains what each backpack contains, and I take note of the important ones: food, medicine and water. One contains game pieces and a chessboard, but I can't possibly imagine the use of such an object in the Hunger Games. The Gamemakers are weird.

I find out that no one has died since Beta. Piccolo says that yesterday was quiet, nothing happened, quite literally. That being the case, one can assume that something will occur today.

"So who's left?" I ask.

"Well there's the four of us, the Careers, Fleur from 6, Barric from 9," I finally learn the boy's name, "Tilman from 10 – who's crazy, by the way – and that little kid, Lovett, from 11. Fourteen of us in total."

"Beta told me about Tilman. How did you know?"

"We've been scouting to and from the Cornucopia in pairs and we saw him hiding in one of the buildings. It's a wonder the Careers haven't found him yet."

"Yeah, that is a little weird."

Though I wonder if it's a trick played by fate. The fact that I've witnessed every single death in the Games so far can't be sheer coincidence. I'm sure I'll see him die. Hell, I could even be the cause.

My thoughts are thrown to the wind as Moira and Anton step through the trees in front of us.

"Hey, guys." Piccolo walks to greet them.

"'Sup, bro?" Anton raises a hand and the two boys high-five, then hug. Moira stands awkwardly next to them, eyeing me. She looks as though she wants to apologise. I don't think I've ever seen the girl look so timid.

"Catch anything good?" Piccolo steers the conversation – and the uneasiness – away.

Anton reaches to the back of his belt and holds out a furry, orange corpse by the tail.

As if instinctive, driven by a greater force, I charge forward and boot the beast out of his hand, sending it skittering through the grass. My eyes tear up as I remember my dream, my breaths are heavy. The others stand around me, shocked.

"Mags?"

Piccolo's voice snaps me out of my trance. Moira looks mortified.

"What the hell was that?" Anton says, his voice shaky.

"I... I thought it was a mutt. I'm sorry." I skulk away from the trio, back towards the oak tree. I look over my shoulder and see the fox's body. The end of its tail is white, not electric blue. And there's only one.

I need to get a grip.

I was wrong. Nothing has happened today. We spent the whole day waiting for something to happen and received nothing but disappointment. I can't complain. My shoulder is still in pain, sort of, so I can't exactly do much.

We sit around a fire, two rabbits roasting over the flames. I guess this alliance is confident enough that they'd survive any attacks, even if I weren't here.

"We'd better go hunting tomorrow," Piccolo says.

"Didn't we already do th-" Moira stops as Piccolo raises an eyebrow. He's talking about hunting other tributes.

"There's still loads of us left and I'd rather just get this over and done with. We'll probably have to split soon, anyway."

Anton's head droops. He's clearly not content going it alone, even if he does have a strange air of confidence about him. That's something Moira seems to have lost.

"You feeling up to it?" Piccolo turns to me.

"Sure." Even if I'm not, the Capitol needs to see me as brave. It's all I've got going for me. Beta's attack barely fazed me, if I'm honest. I knew she'd show her true colours sooner or later. I just didn't expect it to be so soon. A part of me is glad that she's dead. At least I didn't have to do it. But I would've liked to have torn her stupid little neck open, nice and slowly.

Stop that.

Once the rabbits are cooked, Piccolo and I share one. The meat is delicious, as I expected it to be. It's the first proper meal I've had in this place. Even if it isn't exactly proper. The other two eat in silence.

"Well, I'm gonna go get some sleep. Counting on all of you to look after your fearless leader while he's asleep." Piccolo winks and walks away, burying himself inside a sleeping bag below the oak tree.

"Um, I'm going to bed as well," Anton says, "will you guys be alright?"

I look at Moira, who stares back. Her eyes dart away much faster, though. We nod in unison. Anton nods and leaves. He pulls up a sleeping bag right next to Piccolo. In the dim firelight I see their hands link together. I smile. It's nice that they have each other. Somewhere there's a Mags who wants that as well. Just not in this universe.

Moira and I sit cross-legged on either side of the fire. It crackles and beams with heat between us. Every now and then I catch her looking at me across the flames. She's got something to say, I know it. I decide to confront her. I stand up and walk around the fire, leaving my hatchet where I'd been sat before.

"So what is it?" I say, sitting down next to her.

"W-what?" Moira looks worried, even though I've left my weapon on the other side of a miniature inferno.

"What's bugging you? What's the deal? What do you have to say?"

She looks confused. Maybe she's not even sorry, maybe she's just stupid. I point to the bruise on my head. "You did this to me."

"Oh, yeah, that," she shakes her head, "yeah, I'm sorry."

"That's it? You almost knocked me out, bitch." I punch her playfully in the bicep, which is oddly large. I wonder if a punch from her would hurt more than a club to the face did.

"Okay, I'm really fucking sorry for beating you round the head."

The words sound spiteful, but they're acceptable.

"Thanks." I say.

"So why did you ally with that crazy girl from 3?" Well that was out of the blue.

"What? Beta wasn't crazy." At least, I don't think she was.

"You didn't see the way she was eyeing you before she knifed you. She looked fucking mental. Like she'd have devoured your flesh given half the chance."

"No way, she wasn't like that." The words sound honest, but images fly through my head. Beta repeatedly stabbing me in the back again and again with her knife. My body bleeding through every wound, her bending down and lapping up the red substance like it's water. Her head flies back and she stares into the sky, blood-drenched, cackling over my corpse. The image is scarily familiar to that of my father in my dream.

I shudder out of the thought and see Moira looking intently at me. She'd still been speaking.

"What? Sorry."

"I said, she had this weird glint in her eye like she wanted to watch you suffer more than anyone. Did you say or do something to her that would make her feel that way?"

"I'm pretty sure I didn't. You're probably right. She'd been more of a crazy bitch than I'd first thought."

"Yeah."

The conversation dies once again.

I try to think of something to say, but nothing comes. For a while it's just us, watching the fire. The anthem plays, but there's no need. We didn't hear a single cannon today, so no one died.

Finally, I remember something I'd been meaning to ask.

"What was the deal with your district partner?"

"What do you mean?" She doesn't look at me when she responds. The fire has ownership of her eyes.

"Why did you hate him so much?"

"Colvin? He bullied my little brother. He had it coming."

"Wow. I guess that's one reason." It doesn't justify you beating his body to a bloody, unrecognisable pulp. I refrain from saying that out loud.

I tell her to go and get some sleep. She'll need it tomorrow. I doubt I'll sleep tonight anyway. A day and a half is more than enough rest.

Besides, I've got something to do tomorrow. I'm going to save someone.