—sends. me. shivers; [misfit toys]

I'm not made for this you know? Acting the bad boy, and actually being a bad boy are two very different things. I’m sure the people back home thought I’d be real gung-ho about getting to kill people but, when has a like for setting things on fire ever equated with a taste for murder? It’s probably through sheer willpower or the grace of God that I didn’t become a nervous wreck after seeing people get dismembered and brutally slain. And now it would seem that my remaining comrade is dead in a heap. What am I supp-
_


Girl just about gives me a heart attack when she pops up from the snow like a grasshopper. I can see that it is Charas when she lunges at me, catching me by surprise and hugging me in a friendly embrace."I'm so happy to see you! I was kind of not all there after Sapphi—" She stops there, catching her words in her mouth, likely, she is just as remorseful as I about not being able to help the Ross girl. The district twelve tribute takes the shoes from my still stunned hands and thanks me before asking me to start a fire while she hunts for food. Though I am pleased by the opportunity to start a fire, it is soured when I realize that we may have to hunt for people rather than food, come next morning.

I don’t want to think about it. I’m still having trouble adjusting to the fact that I am in the way of fourteen other poor sods chances of getting home; and I know that at least some of them have no qualms about killing people to survive. And then there’s me. Who feels like he should apologize to a girl that he hit repeatedly with a crowbar. Yeah, that’s real bad-ass. Ha. I watch as Charas stalks a something off to my right. I suppose being from a lower district, she’d be inclined to hunting. I grimace as I realize some of the weapons are stained red, as is some of her clothing. I don’t think the blood is hers.
…


She seems nice enough though. I can’t blame her for doing what needed to be done. A knife escapes her hand and hits something with a small thump. That something is soon revealed to be a small rabbit with white fur. I guess its camouflage couldn’t help it. She walks back to me, throwing the small lump of dead fur towards my frame, and I deftly catch it as she plops herself down on the bank. Are those…? I think she was crying. About the rabbit? She stares at me expectantly and I realize I should have been looking for something flammable instead of wondering whether or not I should be afraid of this girl?
_


Did I say afraid? I meant awe. Yep, that’s the ticket.

Anyway, I do have to look for something to burn. There is precious little wood to be found where we are at in this frozen wasteland, And after some searching, I find a peculiar indentation in the ground, which reveals itself to be a nest of some sort, made out of little branches and bits of bramble. There are eggshells scattered around here; whatever lived here is gone, and so won’t mind me taking its home.

Moving back to what I guess is now our campsite, I drop the pile of dry, frost covered twigs, and dig a hole in the snow, scraping a little circle away and dropping my bounty within. I shuffle through Charas’s back for a moment before finding a match. After striking it off of my crowbar, I am rewarded with a tiny flame. It takes some effort to not just watch it burn out, but I set the nest alight and it soon becomes a small conflagration that twirls and leaps like a fiery ballerina. A thought occurs to me. I’m not exactly sure what to do with the rabbit because I’m not in the habit of killing my own food. Handing the rabbit carcass back to Charas, I sit beside her, keeping my bag of stuff close. “I don’t suppose you know how to cook?”I say in a small voice, suddenly ashamed that I don't seem to be good for much more than starting fires.


[Used one of Charas's Matches]

She doesn’t answer me, simply taking the rabbit and skinning it; before chopping it into chinks and dropping it in a cooking pot she must have gotten during the bloodbath. The way she prepares it is methodical and I get the impression that she has prepared similar meals before. I guess coming from the lowest district means scrounging around for food. Most of what I eat comes in a can. Not a flashy package like the multi-colored boxes of electronic hardware that gets shipped off to the Capitol, but small, grey tins with the name of the food they contain printed neatly on the side. It’s quite a change for me to see someone cook like this.

The rabbit itself tastes interesting. It’s chewy and kind of weird, especially after the things I ate in the capitol yesterday. Hopefully this will tide me over for a few days; last time there was a frozen arena tributes died from exposure to the elements just as much as they did from blade or blow. I was only eleven at the time but I wouldn’t forget a thing like that. The thought of a cold, harsh world frightened me more than the prospect of death at the time. Still, if I want to survive I’m going to have to get used to it. There’s no telling how long I’ll be here. Previous games have run for at least a week if not more to my recollection. I’m sure the viewers at home are anxious to see more blood spilt before we all freeze to death though.
_

Just a thought.

When I see that Charas is still messing with the pot I realize that she has another rabbit. Another rabbit? Where the heck did that come from? Did she pull it out her — No, you know what, I’m not going to finish that thought, because that line of thinking almost went somewhere horrible. Whatever the case, Charas seems quite capable of taking care of herself. She has to be after all, she managed to earn a twelve for a training score. A twelve. That never happens. And I had thought I did well by getting an eleven. As I watch her stuff the remaining food into her bag, I wonder if similar scenes are laying out all across the arena as tributes gather in groups of two or three; or in the worst case scenario, sitting alone in a snow drift.

After a moment of silence, the blond sits down with her arms around her legs and sort of half-looks at me, shooting off several questions in a rapid-fire way in which I find it hard to see where one sentence ends and the next begins. Chalk it up to nervousness I suppose. She asks where I think we should go, claiming to have heard something crawling on the ice a little earlier. I almost turn my head to look around; when she adds that it might have been all in her head. Proceeding onward, she asks if I am warm, comfortable, and if anything is wrong. This girl might not seem all there at times, (In fact that’s what my first impression was) but she has a good heart.

Right now, that’s a comforting thing to see.

Her lips purse together and I feel the need to answer.

“Is anywhere in this arena truly safe?” I say in a sardonic tone, before mentally kicking myself. Not everyone understands sarcasm. “I saw some trees earlier, when we were on the platforms. Maybe we could check it out?” I look down at my shoes and the snow. I’m not some survivalist. I burn things for the sake of burning them for crying out loud! I stare at our little fire, letting the flaming tongues mesmerize me as they move, so lithe like snakes; getting enraptured in its simple beauty.

“I’m comfortable enough.”I say absentmindedly. “The only things wrong are the multiple dismemberments I saw earlier today. Oh, and the blood." I smile ruefully, and tear my gaze away from the fire to her. “What about you? Are you alright?” While I wait for an answer, I reach into my bag and withdraw an empty water jug. Water is plentiful around us, if in a form that is not exactly drinkable.

Scooping of handfuls of clean snow, I fill my jug up and hold it over the life-giving fire; listening as the snow sizzles slightly and steam escapes from the neck of the bottle after a few passing minutes. The water tastes warm and tepid, but it’s better than gambling my life on whatever might be in the snow. A game or two ago I remember that a female tribute drank water without doing this and collapsed into retching convulsions. Not a pleasant thought. I smile questioningly at Charas as I take another sip.

I could be wrong you know. Charas could very well be much smarter than she appears to be. District Twelve has been winning unusually much lately, and I wonder if she is acting out a ruse,or if this is the real her. Mutilation of a corpse notwithstanding, I don't think it's a really good idea to get on her bad side. I mean, I know that only one person can walk out of this arena, but I'd prefer not to have to tangle with her. I like my ears where they are; I'd rather not have them cut off and shoved in my mouth.

I try to think about the other victors, and how my ally might try to emulate them; Charas is not cold and withdrawn as a certain blind victor was. Nor is she much like Aranica Petros or Heron Kimberling. - Okay, so that thought didn't work out so well. She definitely has a fighting spirit. Knows how to hunt as well. Hmm. An enigma wrapped in a mystery that I probably don't have the time to solve.

But, she's talking now and I should probably listen.

...

What? She wants to go traipsing into the dark shadowy trees that line the riverbank; Going deeper and deeper into the darkened recesses? And she thinks that looking extremely forbidding is the exact reason that we should disappear into them?

There just might be something wrong with this girl after all.

But... trust is important. If I don't trust the person who chose to ally with me, I'll just grow increasingly paranoid and then snap. And that's no way to act. She claims to feel fine, and I nod, before acquiescing to her request and filling her pot with snow; holding it over the flames to melt. There's no knowing what the rest of them out there are doing, so we should likely get a move on soon. I'm not anxious to cross swords... er, crowbars with anyone just yet.

Time to get a move on anyway.