Fire Girl, a speck on the forest floor, is sprinting through the forest. Rue's throat closes up as she spots the pack of Careers snapping after her. Her fingers tighten on the branches. Fire Girl—Katniss, she remembers, Katniss Everdeen—staggers to a halt. Her chest rises and falls as her eyes dart wildly around. The baying of the Careers grows louder. Climb, Rue thinks. Climb to safety.

Katniss tosses one desperate look over her shoulder before racing over to the nearest pine. She ferociously climbs up it. The Careers stumble to a halt beneath the pine. Rue watches, unseen, as the big blonde one tries to go after her. But Katniss is already near the top. Rue feels a small spark of satisfaction.

The Careers argue about what to do, shoving each other and swearing. One of them hangs off to the side. She realizes it's the other one from Twelve. She bites her lip, mulling over this new development. She thought they were star-crossed lovers. It would have been nice to believe in something like that.

When night seeps over the arena, Katniss is still in her tree and Rue is in hers. She watches the older girl, jealous as a small white parachute nudges her. Rue's never gotten anything from her sponsors.

The Careers boldly light a fire. Soon their snoring is rising up. Rue watches Katniss tie herself to her tree.

She wishes she had an older sister. She doesn't like being the oldest. When the time came, there was no one to protect her.

The grain field, ashy grey in the pre-dawn light, hisses and rattles. He stands as still as granite, save for one hand inching its way down to his sword. The rustling grows louder. He licks his lips, tasting his sweat. Somewhere in the depths of the forest he hears the cries of a mockingjay.

The rustling stops, but he stays still holding his breath. His muscles are beginning to cramp up. He's just about to move when a dark shape explodes from the grain.

She can't fall asleep. The anthem is winding through the trees, but all she can hear is buzzing.

Buzzing.

Everything slides into a sharp focus. She holds her breath as she carefully sticks her neck out of the tree, trying to catch Katniss's attention. Finally, Katniss turns her head, brushing her dark hair out of her eyes. Rue extends one finger up. Katniss's eyes widen as she looks up. Rue smiles to herself as she looks at the bulbous nest hanging from the tree. Tracker jackers. Katniss begins sawing at the branch, scrape scrape scrape. Rue feels lighter and lighter.

He stumbles backward, his mind a raging blur of fight and kill. His hands sweep upward with the scythe out of their own accord. The scythe connects with something fleshy, making a soft thump. He squints, swinging the sword back ready to strike again. Something in the shadows ripples. He tenses, swearing softly when he makes out the shape of a giant snake.

The snake lashes out again, venom dripping from its fangs. He snarls, the scythe slicing through the air, only to miss the snake. The snake hisses, its forked tongue darting from side to side, and rears up. He tilts his head backwards to stare at it, feeling a steely calm coursing through his veins.

When the nest drops, the tracker jackers explode out of it. She covers her ears. The Careers are howling in agony as they run around. Like chickens with their heads cut off, she thinks. Katniss is running, too, and Rue holds her breath, praying that Fire Girl will be okay. Most of the Careers take off, crashing through the forest, but two are left behind. Their skin begins to swell, bubbling and popping like boiling water. One cannon sounds, and then another, but Katniss is still on her feet. Please, Katniss, be okay. Katniss sinks to her knees, next to the blond girl's bloated body, bending over it as if embracing the fallen girl. The hovercrafts are swooping down but Katniss stays where she is. Run, Katniss, run. And then Katniss emerges, grasping a metal bow and arrows, and she runs, wobbling, before she collapses in a pile.

The snake is just another day's work, he thinks. His shoulders tighten and fall into the steady rhythm of swinging the blade. That's all that is. Reaping. He's back home, and maybe the snake is just an ugly overseer. The moss green scales blend into a tartan plaid shirt, the fangs morph into crooked yellow teeth, the beady eyes remain the same. He dodges the snake's lunges, breathing steadily. That's what he always wanted to do, wasn't it? Take out the overseer for good. The sun is rising, coating the fields with gold. His blade gleams, drops of blood flying off it. His lips curl back in a satisfied smile. He swings again, and the snake ducks under his blade, impossibly fast, and sinks its fangs in his arm.

Every time Katniss cries out, Rue's heart leaps like a startled rabbit. She tries stroking the older girl's forehead, murmuring lullabies her mother used to sing. She cocoons Katniss in leaves and twigs. Night stalks over the arena, and she scurries up a tree, ears pricked for the sounds of the Careers. Pride glows in her—she saved Katniss' life. Today, she did more than merely surviving. She helped another survive the dread grasp of the Games.