A cannon sound jolts me from uneasy rest, a panicked gasp for air escaping my lips. A steadying hand lands on my shoulder. I don't have to look to know that it's Xander's. "Seven left," he informs me quietly. I despise the anxiety that sets in, stronger now, as I twist around to face him. His baby face seems intense now, watchful of all potential threats.

"Already?" I ask in a whisper, and the brunette nods in confirmation. His eyes are careful and alert, flickering in every which direction behind me for any new threats.

"It was us, pairs from 1 and 2, girl from 3, and the guy from 7." Xander reminds me, meeting my eyes for only a fraction of a second. "We'll find out who tonight," he says. I have little doubt in my mind that it was the boy from 7 or the girl from 3 who died.

"You know what that means." I say, and Xander nods his head. Family interviews. They'd have already aired them by now.

"Who do you think they talked to back home for you?" He asks me, wonder alight in his eyes. I consider whether I should share that information with him for half a beat, quickly dropping my defenses. Xander and I had each other's backs, and for all the digging I've done about him, it's only fair that I give back.

"My mom." I say. "She's the only one that'd be able to handle it, I think." Xander listens thoughtfully, his face remaining passive. He was a guarded person, and the fact that he trusted me enough to remain allies for this long was a miracle in itself. "What about you?" I ask.

"Just my dad." He responds, and then because I stare him down, he adds more. "My mom hasn't been well for a while."

"You think they're proud?" I ask curiously, the meaning obvious— of how far you've come. Xander only shrugs his shoulders.

"I've killed people." He deadpans, but the pain is there in his eyes and I remind myself of where we are; what survival means and simultaneously costs. It requires the sacrifice of not only the lives of others, but our own mental stability. Choosing to defend yourself in the Hunger Games is a moral dilemma of its own, resulting in the sort of compromising that many can't turn back from.

"Self-defence," I try to deflect anyways, wanting to spare him of the guilt. Xander's gaze wanders down for a moment, landing on the emblem of my jacket that brands me as his District 4 counterpart. His face remains stoic when he speaks, and I wonder if he considers how he'll end up killing me when the time comes.

"We should get moving." He says, slowly picking up his spear from where it sits idle by his leg. "They'll probably want to draw us all together now, and I'd rather have an upper hand when that happens."

"There's a stream about a kilometre northeast." I tell him, deciding to not pursue the conversation any more. If we were down past the final eight, that means it's only a matter of hours before we have to split up for good. I wouldn't be able to lay a hand on Xander if we were the last two— I know too much about him to be a credible lethal threat. "I have two more iodine tablets left. We should fill up on water and find high ground."

Xander gets to his feet, limbs groggy from sitting for so long. "Good idea." He replies. I toss him his pack, and he swings the straps over his shoulder effortlessly as I clamber to my own feet. I withdraw the hunting knife that he'd gifted me from the Cornucopia bloodbath and hold it tightly in my right hand, preparing for the worst. "I'll take lead," Xander volunteers, and because he's the one with the long-distance range weapon, I allow it.

Xander and I maneuver through the sparsely populated forest, making as little noise as possible as we navigate our way almost expertly through the arena. I keep up the rear, eyes darting around at every rustle of leaves that I pick up with my sharp ears. We can hear the water before we see it, and Xander turns his head to smile at me.

"You were right," he mouths out, not making noise in fear of alerting anyone of our presence. I come around to stand beside him, hands clammy as we push through the clearing and approach the stream of freshwater. The silence is suffocating— the sounds of the echoing stream produces a strange sense of anxiety within my chest

"I'll bottle," I whisper, and Xander nods in agreement. His stance changes, his spear held up more threateningly as he shifts in every which direction to search for other tributes. I don't manage a step towards the stream. Across the water and down the rocky hill, a form bursts from the trees as if they'd been waiting for us. I stumble backwards in fear, reaching blindly for Xander. The word 'run' gets caught in my throat.

"Get back," Xander grabs my arm and pulls me behind him. I can see the person now clearly— it's Brennan from District 2. His partner, Katia, materializes at my two o'clock, splashing into the water as Brennan, wielding a sword, leaps down the foothill to meet Xander. "I've got him," Xander tells me, and I understand without the exchange of words that I'll have to handle Katia. I quickly drop my pack onto the grass, knowing it will only slow me down.

I turn and run down the field alongside the stream, blade in hand in an attempt to lure Katia away from the security of having a partner. She follows through the water as expected, splashing loudly, and I barely dodge the first knife that comes hurtling towards my head. I feel the blood trailing from my ear before I see it. The stinging sets in soon after.

There's no time to talk, let alone breathe— not when I can hear Brennan and Xander's grunts from across the field and the clang of metal; not when Katia is aiming to kill.

I'm prepared for the next one— I duck out of the way of another one of her fast projectiles, sprinting into the water and tossing my arms around her waist. I throw us off our feet and into the water, dragging her beneath me. I hear her scream of frustration as I gain the upperhand; I feel her hand pushing back against my face in a desperate bid to obscure my sight. I grimace and pull my arm back, trying to land a hit with my knife, but she slams her fist into my elbow and grabs me by the jacket, throwing me back into the water. I move quick, gathering my bearings before she can move. I time a punch into her ribs before she can hit me again, hating the satisfaction I get from hearing her grunt of pain. She was stupid to target a District 4 girl in water combat— this was practically my element. She fights beneath me, a small knife burying itself into my right thigh, and I scream in pain as I slam the butt of my dagger into her temple. Katia thrashes as I pull us both underwater, pressing her face down and yanking her last blade from her fingers. I hold my breath, experienced, and wait for her to relax in my hold. The thundering of her cannon comes soon after.

I come back up to the surface, sucking in a long breath of the air I denied myself of. I'm just in time to see Brennan pulling his blade from Xander's stomach, the metal coated in vital dark red. Something twists in my stomach as I watch him sink to the ground limply. I feel faint.

Brennan turns to look in my direction. I can tell that he expects to see Katia immediately. His face seems to warp into something of confusion and rage, his mouth twisting as understanding hits him. Then, he charges at me with a guttural yell. I don't have time to truly process anything, my brain operating in a distant fog. Move your legs, Reverie. MOVE.

I barely manage to drag myself out of the water before Brennan is slamming me into the ground, fist coming down hard into my face over and over again. I can feel the blood pooling in my mouth, warm and metallic in taste, as he punches me again. He abandons his sword with purpose, the blade still red, and I understand that he intends to kill me with his bare hands. I can't help the tears that spill across my cheeks.

"I'm gonna enjoy this." Brennan says, voice sorrowful, and it's the only words he spits before he lands another blow to my face. I can tell my vision will go soon. I cough up blood weakly onto my chest. Is this how the pair from District 4 will die? Is this how Xander and I meet our ends? Together, after all?

My knife is out of reach, somewhere distant and useless as Brennan keeps me pinned to the grass. I can't search for anything else to use in my defense because his knuckles are smashing into my mouth again, upping the groggy disorientation. I vaguely can feel pain bursting from my thigh, trying to remember why, but only the word Katia blares across my mind. A pained whimper escapes from my bloody mouth as Brennan's hands mercilessly wrap around my throat, squeezing to kill. My right hand reaches for my leg, feeling for the source of the pain. I touch the hilt of a tiny blade jutting outward from my thigh, and that split second of realization is all I have before my air supply is cut off. It's payback for how I'd cut off Katia's.

I slowly pull the throwing knife out of my leg, left hand desperately scratching at the older boy's knuckles. I stare Brennan right in the eyes, seeing all of the hurt, confusion, and rage that burns behind his grey irises. He doesn't see it coming, and maybe that's the worst part— watching his eyes flicker with realization, shock, and horror in a split second. It painfully humanizes him as I swiftly drag the bloody knife across his exposed throat. He lets go of mine in that moment to grab hold of his own, the place where his life-force now drains out all across my chest. I don't watch him fall over, grasping at my tender neck as I gasp for breath against the grass. The pain is something intense and horrible, and I can feel the burn in my leg more than I had before. The only thing that makes me get to my feet is the thought XanderXanderXander. A cannon sounds. It's Brennan's.

I stumble upon his body, dropping to the grass next to him when my trembling legs can't hold me up anymore. He's holding his hands against his stomach, blinking rapidly at the clear sky, and when he sees me the tension in his face seems to evaporate. "You're okay," he manages, but I know that I look far from it.

"We have to go, Xander." I tell him, but he only blinks up at me. I refuse to accept no for an answer. "You'll be fine, please. Someone can send something to fix it. You're okay. We just have to go, right now. The pair from 1 can't be far off."

Xander blinks. "I can't," he says quietly, the words barely audible, and there's a sort of resignation to his voice that must have settled in after the initial panic. He doesn't cry— he's far past that point.

"I'm not going without you." I insist, my eyes burning with tears. "Please, I can't. I need you."

"Rev," he says, lips quivering, and I press my bloody hand against his now. He grasps at it almost desperately, holding it tightly and pressing hard against his abdomen. The spot is warm, and my own blood and Brennan's disappears beneath his. "If you get home, please...  help my family." He says this firmly now, like he means it and it's imperative that I listen. I nod, busted lip trembling as the tears fall freely now. The salt seems to burn against my cheeks.

"Xander," I choke out. His eyes seem to lose their light as the seconds pass. "Xander, don't," I beg him, but he doesn't listen anyways. Who was I to drag him away from finding his peace? His gaze finds its way up back to the clear sky, and the sounds of the stream— rushing, loud in its close proximity— funnel back in.

"'S almost like home," he says, and those are his last words. The cannon sounds, deafening now to my ears.