A/N: This is not the end of the story although the chapter title says so. :) There's still a few more to go...
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Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

My legs take me towards the fire, strengthened by the thought of one less competitor. I will win this. The stationary trees flash by as I run, no more than flimsy backdrops to hinder my way. I push them aside forcefully as I pass with only one thought circling in my mind - kill the tribute.

The girl from 1 looks up in horror as she sees me before her. Her eyes no doubt retain a little of her past arrogance, but she is defenceless against me, tethered to the ground with a spear that is quite useless to her in her position. And I have the element of surprise.

My axe lands itself in her head.

The cannon sounds yet again and I pull my weapon out slowly. I have all the time I want. The sticky blood the blade is coated in brings back everything I have experienced in the arena, but I shove everything out of my mind as I go through the girl's supplies, taking anything of use to me and discarding some of my useless belongings in the process. I won't bother putting out her fire. In fact, I sit by and watch as the hovercraft picks up her body. The twenty-second one down. One left. I tick district by district off my fingers until I am left with the boy from 9. The one who saved my life during the encounter with the Careers, the one who made the girl from 1 so easy to kill. I owe him, yes. But this is the Hunger Games, and I haven't been reliable at paying debts. Everyone I know or have killed comes to mind and a wave of remorse washes over me, but it is gone as fast as it came. I have come so far now and I better return home. All this will not be in vain.

I get up after an hour to resume my hunt, although something genuine in me yells out for me to stop, since the boy did save my life, so I shouldn't be taking his. But what if he takes mine? What if all that was just pretence and a way to win over my trust, then kill me later?

I pick my axe up with new resolve.

The trees are just the same wherever I go. Who knows how large this arena is? I'm guessing a few kilometres wide. The Gamemakers should be sending something to drive us together then, since I can't exactly march kilometres to find the boy.

My suspicions are proved right as I catch sight of a large flock of birds in the distance flying right towards me. And they don't look that harmless either.

My packs slam against my back as I sprint away from the birds. As they near, I can hear their screeches along with a furious flapping of wings, stirring up every remnant of breeze left in the still-suspended plant life. They are incredibly fast. And there are too many of them for me to fight them off. I run wherever I can find clear space, for it seems that everywhere I turn, more birds speed towards me and I am forced to backtrack and change my direction. This goes on until the Cornucopia is in view, partially hidden by the mass of still trees obscuring the full view of what is ahead. Then I understand. The Gamemakers are driving both of us together for the final battle.

The birds seem to be all over by the hundreds, maybe thousands. There must be flocks of tens of them chasing me, and as I look to the right, it is easy to spot more pursuing the other tribute. The Gamemakers must want to finish this fast, but who knows? They might hold the imminent death for eternity. Torture the dying one of us for days to entertain themselves until the show grows stale.

I force my attention to my sole competitor. The boy from 9 is running, but not terribly fast. He still manages to get away from the birds though, or maybe it is because the Gamemakers want to see us draw blood ourselves. Strangely, when I get to the Cornucopia, the birds stop chasing me and I catch my breath. They flee into the forest, still screeching. I watch the boy from 9 escape the birds and they too vanish in the forest once he has touched the Cornucopia. Our eyes meet for a second and behind the exhaustion scrawled all over his face, there is a sense of uncertainty. Now what? he seems to be saying. I know neither of us wants to kill each other. Or do we?

We stare at each other for a while. Then he speaks. "I think the birds are gone."

"Yes, they are," I reply, gripping my axe tighter. I could do it in one motion, I could. But would it be humane enough? Would it be right for me to take his life and save mine, valuing myself over him?

"What are we gonna do now?" As he speaks, I take in the details, the single not-too-full pack slung on both his shoulders, the ripped and bloodied jacket zipped up tightly, his slumped stance. I can tell he is still injured, but probably recovered slightly. He must have gotten a fair number of parachutes for surviving up to the last two, as I have. I wonder if he has killed anyone. He must have, but somehow I just can't imagine him delivering the death blow. He did cripple the girl from 1 though, so I guess he's just as lethal as I am now. I try and locate any weapons, but he does not seem to have any in reach. Maybe they are in his pack.

"I don't know, fight to the death?"

He smiles grimly. "After helping each other?"

I am wordless. He has spoken the very thought in my mind, something I have been pushing to the side every time I made a kill. Now I have to face it.

"Did you kill him?"

"Who?"

"Your district partner," he says casually.

I have no idea why he brings it up right at this point or how he knew it was probably me, but the thought forms a hard lump in my throat. "Yes."

He says nothing. The look in his eyes is unreadable as he tilts his head slightly and studies me. I push my axe further behind my back, feeling the suddenly-strange handle warm up under the heat of my hand. It feels as if it is calling me, anticipating my move. Should I? My fingers slide to the dried blood on the blade. He will be no different from the Careers. Just one move and it will all be over...

I take in our current situation. The arena is bright, the birds are gone, and there's just the two of us left. The Capitol is sure to be tuning in to our especially interesting conversation, finding the hidden meaning behind our words and sitting on the edge of their seats, anticipating the death blow. I check again. Yes, he has no weapons with him right now. But all this conversation may be a strategy to get me talking and snatch my axe when I'm not concentrating, then to finish me off. My grip on my weapon tightens even more. I am ready.

"They aren't going to let us stay here talking for too long, you know," the boy says after a while.

"Yes, they want blood and action," I reply. "So we better give it to them."

"It's a choice. You could give them that and get their riches, or die knowing that part of you is still the same as your old self. Or perhaps it's what you prefer."

I take some time to ponder over his words. He has entered the arena not expecting to win but to die, while I have always wanted my life, not thinking about my future. Now that he has phrased it this way, it makes me rethink my resolve to win. "So which have you chosen?"

"I can't say for sure. I go from one to the other and back again."

Again my axe seems to beckon me to make the move. "So do I."

The screeching of birds shocks us and I whip around wildly, seeking the source of the noise. There is no movement at all for a few seconds. Then those same birds re-emerge from the forest towards us, screeching wildly, come to end our lives, and in this split second I know what my choice is.

The birds disappear as soon as my axe flies towards the boy.

It only takes a second for the cannon to sound for the last time, and then I slump against the cold wall of the Cornucopia as the trumpets blare, only stirring my exhausted limbs up when the hovercraft arrives.

The first person I meet after the few days of medical treatment is Blight. Velda and my stylist join us a short while later. I greet them with apprehension, hoping no one will bring up Cade or Soraya or any of the people I killed, whether directly or indirectly. Fortunately, they don't. Instead they congratulate me one by one on my survival and Velda is practically brimming with delight that one of her tributes has won. She makes me feel sick, though she probably doesn't know it.

Blight looks happy enough, though there is a certain amount of sadness in his eyes. "Good job," he says without emotion, and I nod in reply. I know he is thinking about Cade and probably his own Games as well. I wonder if he felt the same way as me when he won, if our district felt happy for him or sad that his partner didn't make it. Someplace far away called District 7, people will either be grieving or rejoicing. I expect it to be a mix. But I will know the real truth when I return.

I step away from everyone when their attention is away from me. A memory seemingly distant is replaying in my head, making me question my actions. It's a choice. You could give them that and get their riches, or die knowing that part of you is still the same as your old self. Or perhaps it's what you prefer.I have chosen, but is it the right choice? Which is better, really?

The thought hits me that no one really wins the Hunger Games.