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SHE CAN FEEL the force of the Cornucopia spinning even from beneath the waves. The newly-created current drags her to the side, pulling her without her body's consent until she slams into something so hard she sees stars behind her eyelids. Her eyes open to chaos and the swirl of bubbles from the force of the moving island. But through the stinging saltwater, she can see an arrow, an alarming amount of red, two soulless eyes staring at her, and—

Ontari is staring at Gloss' corpse.

Fighting not to scream and lose even more oxygen, she shoves the body away. The Cornucopia seems to have stopped spinning judging by the way the water has started to calm down, but she's so disoriented that she feels utterly trapped. Bubbles, turned crimson by Gloss' blood, continue to swarm her. Everything looks the same. Her chest is burning, begging her for oxygen, and she wonders if the man from Five that she'd drowned is laughing at her from the afterlife.

Up. Which way is up? Her mind is screaming at her, warning her that she doesn't have much longer until instinct takes over and she takes a huge lungful of ocean water instead of oxygen. Up, up, up, up—

She raises her arms above her head and swings them downward, rocketing her in some direction. Her movements are still too slow and sluggish. But she keeps using that same motion to propel herself to what she hopes, prays is upward.

When her head meets the humid air of the world above, she automatically sucks in a breath, only to be slammed in the face with another wave from the choppy waters. Her lungs spasm, forcing the unwanted substance back up so she lets out a horrible-sounding cough in an effort to spit it back up.

"There!" Beetee's voice calls from a distance. There's a splash from beside her before she can even open her eyes. Someone's arms circle her and heave her above the relentless waves, allowing her to retch until her lungs are clear. Her body, exhausted, slumps against what she knows is Finnick's chest. He gives her several moments to calm down and regain her breath. From below, his powerful legs churn to tread the water.

"I've got you," he whispers in her ear, her temple pressed against the front of his face. Her chest is still rising and falling rapidly but seems to be more regular than before. Her heart rate slowly returns to normal, so different from the persistent pounding from before that it's shocking.

Cassian is waiting for them at the shore, crouched by the edge of the island she'd been thrown off of. He stretches his arms out so Finnick can wade them over and pass her to him. Her brother scoops her up underneath the arms, Peeta holding him steady so he doesn't topple in as well. Cassian sets her down a good meter away from the rock's edge. Finnick, now just as soaked as her, pulls himself up with the help of Johanna.

"Are you okay?" Cassian asks her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as she fights to ease the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. It makes her feel sluggish— every limb seems to weigh twice as much as usual. Even so, she manages a nod.

"At least you got to wash off, huh?" Johanna comments with a smirk. Ontari can see through her sarcasm and she knows it. The bite is just for show; Ontari can see the relief concealed in her eyes. If you know where to look, Johanna can sometimes be an open book.

The raven-haired girl is only half-aware of Katniss diving into the water. Why, she isn't sure. The only thing she's able to comprehend is anger... and doubt. She'd known that not everyone would make it out of these Games, but to have been so deliberately close to death when she has a deal with Plutarch...

Ontari, grim-faced, turns around so she's facing the circular ocean and firmly raises an obscene gesture toward the sky.

"Hope the cameras caught that," Finnick remarks dryly. Despite the lack of feeling in his voice, she can see him scrutinizing her out of the corner of her eye, trying to pick apart the emotions raging in her ice-blue eyes. She meets his gaze after thirty seconds of feeling his prickling stare. Silent communication passes between them. Finnick nods in encouragement, his face seeming to say, They know what they're doing.

Katniss rises out of the water, sputtering. Peeta rushes over to help her back onto the island. In her hand is the coil of wire that Wiress had been cleaning before her untimely demise; it must have still been clutched in her hands. A pulse of agony cleaves through Ontari's heart. Wiress, so broken already, yet so willing to help, so intelligent and yet so underestimated. Gone. Wiped from the face of the earth.

Now Cassian is eyeing her, too. His hazel eyes glimmer with a question. Are you okay?

The frost in Ontari's returning stare is enough of an answer.

Katniss hands Beetee the now-sparkling coil of golden wire. The older man merely stares at it in his hands, no doubt mourning the loss of his fellow tribute partner. Ontari realizes with a jolt that, out of this alliance, she, Cassian, Katniss, and Peeta are the only ones with both tributes from their districts.

Something cold snakes into her chest. If the Gamemakers try anything to take her brother from her... she won't hesitate. She'll jump in the way of an oncoming blade or beast and welcome death with open arms. If only one of them has to walk out of here, it needs to be him. Her family would move on from her demise. But Cassian, the youngest of the family, the baby Nightfall sibling... her parents would be wrecked. Hestia would be, too.

"Let's get off this stinking island," Johanna proposes, voice cleaving through the silence enough that everyone snaps out of their collective stupor. Addressing Ontari, she continues, "Enobaria and Brutus fled. We couldn't pick them off before— you know."

She nods, through her frown deepens. She'd seen them sprint down one of the strips of rock toward the beach before the Cornucopia had started spinning. If only it had started a second later and Cassian could have launched a knife into Enobaria's back.

They decide to head for the beach at twelve, which will give them at least a little while to rest between attacks. Finnick strips off his undershirt to bind a wound on his thigh. That reminds Ontari of her own wound— the slice on her calf. It's not deep enough to deserve a tourniquet, but covering it will prevent infection from the dirt and bacteria in the jungle.

"Here," Finnick says as if he'd read her mind. He rips a piece of his thin t-shirt and hands her the strip of white fabric. She tests its strength by pulling it in both directions. It stretches with her movements, meaning she'll have to tie it extra tightly to make sure it stays on through the rest of the Games. If coming from the textile district had taught her anything, it's what fabrics are useful for certain things.

After their wounds have been dressed, they set off. Or they try to; Peeta, Johanna, Cassian, and Finnick head off in four different directions, then stop in laughably perfect sync once they'd realized what they'd done.

"It's twelve o'clock, right?" Peeta questions. "The tail points at twelve."

"Before they spun us," Finnick argues, motioning toward the sky. "I was judging by the sun."

"The sun only tells you it's going on four, Finnick," Katniss informs him.

Beetee pushes himself to his feet, wobbling a bit before he says, "I think Katniss's point is, knowing the time doesn't mean you necessarily know where four is on the clock. You might have a general idea of the direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ring of jungle as well."

Ontari decides that she's too tired to think this much and rubs her temples.

Katniss nods in agreement. "Yes, so any one of these paths could lead to twelve o'clock."

"I was looking at the giant tree," Cassian says. His damp hair sticks to his forehead as he turns toward the jungle, scanning it carefully. "But it seems like every sector has a giant tree."

The Girl on Fire's frown is bitter enough to match Ontari's. Turning to her, she sighs, "We should never have mentioned the clock. Now they've taken away that advantage, too."

Does Plutarch even want them to win these Games? Either he's playing an extremely convincing part, or Commander Paylor had been wrong for once.

Ontari glances down at the plain gold band on her finger and twists it around. A sentence pops into her brain, one Haymitch had told her during one of their secret meetings in the Tribute Center. Remember who the real enemy is.

Snow. No matter how much her trust in Plutarch wavers, she has to remember that the real enemy is President Snow.

"Come on, I need water," Johanna complains, her voice bringing Ontari back to the present. "Anyone have a good gut feeling?"

"I say we pick a direction and hope for the best," Ontari replies in a grumble. Pointing to the left, she says decidedly, "That way. We go that way."

If the other tributes are curious about her sour attitude, they don't comment on it beyond a few questioning glances to each other. They mostly come from Katniss and Peeta. The others, at least, seem to have some sort of grip on what's bothering her.

"Well, it must be monkey hour," Peeta determines as they peer into the trees of the section Ontari had chosen. "But I don't see any of them in there. I'm going to try to tap a tree."

Finnick's fingers jolt at the suggestion. "No, it's my turn."

Because it's much easier to keep Peeta alive from the beach, where threats are more or less visible.

"I'll at least watch your back," Baker Boy says.

"Katniss can do that," Johanna replies. "We need you to make another map— the other washed away." She yanks a large, flat leaf from a nearby plant and hands it to him expectantly.

Too far, too pushy. Katniss' eyes flicker with suspicion for an instant before she conceals it under a look of understanding.

So now it's Ontari's turn to shine. She'd proven again and again that she'd protect Peeta, which is why she steps forward and points at the right side of the leaf, where three would be on a clock. "Monkeys, right?"

She makes sure her voice is soft, patient, seeming like she is genuinely unsure of herself and wants his confirmation. Never mind that she'd already committed his old map to memory. Peeta nods, buying her persona, and begins to walk with her farther away from the horrors lurking in the jungle. All while maintaining that calm demeanor to whisk away any doubt in Katniss' mind. She can't have the Girl on Fire turning on them— not now, not when they're so close.

She's pleasantly surprised to see Cassian playing along as well. Instead of the tough and mysterious exterior he usually shows on-camera, he seems to be forcing himself to show some patience toward Peeta. Pride swells in Ontari as she watches her younger brother theorize with the blond boy.

So young. The traces of childhood are still present in Peeta's face. Although he'd lost some of the baby fat he'd still had in last year's Games and revealed a sharply-carved jawline, there's still an air of youth to him. He's just a teenager. Seventeen and already he's faced the arena twice.

They'd already failed once in keeping him alive. The force field had stopped his heart, after all, and Ontari had momentarily thought they'd already lost their chance at succeeding. She has to make sure it doesn't happen again, which is why she rakes her gaze across every tree and nearby bush. Her sword is a comforting weight in her hand. Even Johanna makes a show of helping with the map; she trusts Ontari enough to guard all of their backs.

They've only been on the beach for moments when a scream splits through the air, causing Ontari to jolt and raise her sword. The voice— it had sounded like a little girl's scream, and it prods at Ontari's memory for some reason, making her feel like she's heard it somewhere before. The others shoot to their feet as well.

"What was that?" Johanna questions, ax already in hand.

The leaf drops from Peeta's fingers. "Prim."

As fast as lightning, he takes off from the beach, metal foot barely slowing him down this time. His cry mixes in with the ear-piercing screams he's running toward. They're both screaming the same thing: "Katniss!"

Prim. Primrose Everdeen, Katniss' sister.

"They wouldn't take her," Cassian says as Johanna chases after Peeta, disappearing through the trees. But even he sounds doubtful. "She's just a lie—"

"CASSIAN!"

Ontari's very blood freezes to ice in her veins when she hears that pleading voice. Her brother stills so completely she can't even see the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. In fact, he might not even be breathing, not when the cry comes again, this time screeching a different name.

"ONTARI! Ontari—"

It's Hestia's voice calling out for them.

Like that had triggered him into unfreezing, Cassian cracks into motion so quickly that Ontari doesn't notice he'd moved until he's already gone. Ontari reaches for him too late. He's already too far for her to grab onto, fingers curling onto nothing but air.

She whirls toward Beetee, desperate for answers. He's usually the voice of reason. She waits a moment for advice to come pouring out of his mouth, for him to calm her down with some logical explanation for what's happening. But for once, even he seems to be at a loss for words.

So Ontari pivots back toward the jungle and runs like her life depends on it. Even when she crosses the threshold where sand turns into soil, there's no sign of her brother or the others who had gone in this direction. For a second, she stands there, eyes trailing over the trees, unsure of which direction to go in. Then another heart-wrenching scream pierces her ears. It's Peeta's voice this time, shouting for Katniss. So she sprints in that direction and bounds over tree roots, rocks, and short bushes in an effort to catch up with them, wincing at the throbbing pain of the slice in her thigh.

Curse her brother and his mile-long legs.

Her chest is mildly heaving when they come into view. Katniss is firing arrows at birds that subsequently land dead at her feet, tears streaming down her face. But it's a swarm and soon her weapons won't be enough to stop the voices. Now, up close, Ontari can see that the birds are jabberjays— ones who mimic sounds.

But Katniss isn't the only one trapped inside. Finnick presses his hands to his ears, veins popping in his neck and face cherry red with the effort it takes to block the now-muffled screams out of his head. And there's Cassian, slashing at bird after bird with his knives until feathers float around him and blood is splattered onto his jumpsuit. But his attacks only seem to make things worse. Despite his non-stop movements, jabberjays swarm him until he's practically hidden.

But Ontari can't hear anything. Where there should be screeching, the horrible sounds of Cassian's knives gutting the birds, and Katniss's sobbing, there is silence. Peeta and Johanna are just standing there. Standing there, when they should be helping—

But as Ontari's sisterly instincts propel her forward, Johanna grabs her by the sleeve and yanks her back. In silent explanation, she gently presses her palm forward and seems to hit an invisible barrier. Her palm goes flat against it. Even when she applies force, it doesn't budge.

"Cassian sprinted ahead of us," she explains with a twinge of actual sympathy in her voice. "He was only a few steps in front, and yet when we tried to reach him..." She forms a fist and pounds into the barrier, as solid as a brick wall.

Sure enough, she can now see that Finnick's nose is gushing blood as if he'd tried to run into the wall, only to realize too late that he couldn't break through. Ontari's heart swells with restlessness at the sight of all three of them in such agony. Angling her sword, she slashes forward, only for it to stop dead in its tracks as if she had indeed hit something too solid to penetrate.

It doesn't stop her from trying. She drops her useless weapon and pounds her fist against the barrier, ignoring the ache that blossoms into her hand. Desperation causes Finnick and Cassian's names to tumble from her lips before she even has the chance to think about it. After several seconds of merciless punches and screaming, Johanna forcibly pulls her back and wraps her arms around Ontari's, locking her in her grip.

"They can't hear you," she hisses in her ear. "You're only wearing yourself out."

Ontari elbows Johanna in the gut to break her hold, dimly aware of Beetee finally catching up with them. She focuses on her brother sinking to the soil as if he's finally given up on trying to fend off the voice of their older sister begging them to save her. How cruel is this— to not only have the three of them experience the cries of their loved ones, but to separate them from anyone who may comfort them. And to force them to watch as they suffer.

For now Katniss and Peeta press their palms to the barrier as if they might be able to reach the other. About an inch of space separates them, so close and yet not enough to provide the security Katniss needs.

Then the birds rise back into the trees. Cassian is freed from the hoard of them at last, face littered with minor scrapes from their sharp talons. Blood trickles from his ears and leaks onto the collar of his jumpsuit. The branches of the green giants are filled with hundreds of jabberjays. At first, Ontari thinks it's over, but then they open their beaks in horrific synchronization and pour sound from their little bodies.

Whatever Finnick hears is enough to make him crash to his knees, then crumple into a ball on the jungle floor. Cassian resumes his crouched position and merely stares lifelessly at nothing as if he's dissociating from the event at hand. Only Katniss attempts to fight again, knocking down a few birds before deeming it useless and curling up beside Finnick.

Finnick lifts his head just enough to look at Cassian's immobile form and the blood continuing to pour from his ears. He dares to unblock one of his ears and digs his fingers into the dirt, dragging himself closer to the youngest Nightfall as if trying to protect him even now, but the deafening sounds soon become too much for him to bear and he collapses back onto the ground. Cassian makes no indication that he'd seen Finnick move toward him.

Psychological warfare. That's what this is— trapping the tributes in their worst nightmares, forcing them to listen to the screams of their loved ones with nobody to comfort them.

So Ontari is forced to do nothing but watch as tears stream from Finnick's face, her baby brother not even bothering to block his already damaged ears from the piercing sounds.

"I'll go to Cassian," Beetee says to Ontari. "I know how to deal with shock. You go to Finnick."

She doesn't process her nod of understanding.

It seems to take an eternity, but soon, the sounds of the screams become more audible. It's as if the barrier is slowly vanishing, peeling back layer after layer until the winged demons cease their terrible song.

But those few seconds are enough to make Ontari's body fill with dread. She hears her mother's voice, her father's, Hestia's, Woof, Cecelia, screaming for her and Cassian. Annie. Prim. Several unfamiliar people pleading for Katniss. But the voice that startles her the most is her own, only heard once before everything goes quiet. Calling for Finnick.

Beetee keeps his word and carefully approaches a still-shocked Cassian. Ontari's movements are much more unceremonious. She flings herself at Finnick, falling to her knees in front of him and gently grazing her thumb along his cheek with a shaking hand. Beneath her touch, he himself is trembling so profoundly it's like there are miniature earthquakes trapped under his skin.

He raises his head to look her in the eyes. His are glassy and bloodshot, filled with so much terror that it wrenches her gut. As if he'd abruptly realized that she's physically there in front of him, he pushes himself to a kneeling position before her so their knees are touching. And then his hands are cupping her face with such fervor that it seems like he's afraid she'll drift away with the wind.

"Did they ever torture you?" Finnick demands, searching her eyes for any hidden emotions. He looks almost fearful of her answer but needs to know it for his own sanity.

Her heart splinters in two. She reaches up to caress his shoulder, letting him know that she's there. "No. Those screams weren't real."

His jaw wobbles at her response. Surging forward and rising up on his knees, he presses his lips firmly to hers. Ontari feels every emotion he's trying to convey. Finnick worries she'll slip through his fingers, turn into nothing but putty in his hands, or disappear altogether. He needs to know that she's real.

"I'm here," she manages to whisper through a kiss. "I'm real."

Finnick is still trembling with no end to his panic in sight, so Ontari wraps her arms around him securely. It must be a strange sight for Panem to see— a tall, muscled man being held like a child, but she'll keep him secure if that's what it takes for him to calm down. Screw what the Capitol thinks.

She catches the last of Peeta's reassuring words to Katniss. "First Prim. Then your mother. Your cousin, Gale, Madge. It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we're the only ones who can be hurt by it. We're the ones in the Games. Not them."

"You really believe that?" she asks with tear-filled eyes.

His nod is firm, unwavering. "I really do."

Ontari shifts her gaze to see that Beetee has at least gotten Cassian to fully sit on the forest floor instead of kneeling. His gaze is still somewhat blank, but whatever Beetee is whispering to him seems to be helping, because he nods every so often and steadies his breathing. She can no longer detect the violent rise and fall of his chest.

"Could they do that, Beetee?" Finnick's voice is still raw from screaming. "Take someone's regular voice and make it..."

"Oh, yes," the older man confirms, pushing up his thick-framed glasses. "It's not even that difficult, Finnick. Our children learn a similar technique in school."

Ontari's blood goes a little cold at that, distress quickly filling her senses again. Cassian must feel the same way about Beetee's nonchalantly-given information— he blanches at the statement. Children learning how to alter voices? Why would that be needed? The possibilities swarm in her head. The Capitol could make it sound like someone could say anything. And the fact that they have her voice...

"Of course Peeta's right," Johanna cuts in flatly, holding her ax casually at her side. "The whole country adores Katniss's little sister. If they really killed her like this, they'd probably have an uprising on their hands. Don't want that, do they?" She throws back her head and shouts, "Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn't want anything like that!"

Though it takes every ounce of her willpower to school her expression into neutrality, Ontari manages to keep herself from smirking at her friend's boldness. Then again, there's a reason she can say things like that without repercussions.

As if she doesn't notice Katniss' slack jaw or simply doesn't care, she scoops up some shells and heads deeper into the jungle. "I'm getting water."

Katniss grabs her leg before she can pass her. "Don't — the birds —"

"I'm not like the rest of you." Johanna shakes off her grip and keeps her steel gaze forward. "They can't hurt me; there's no one left that I love."

Ontari glances downward at Finnick, still clutching onto her like a lifeline, then drifts her gaze to Cassian. Having them alive is both a blessing and a curse. She's grateful that they're still in her life, but it also means that the Capitol can use them against her. With her parents and Hestia hopefully on their way to or already in District Thirteen... she has so many liabilities.

Too many. Which is why she has to keep fighting for a world where she can appreciate her loved ones, not worry they'll be killed as bait by the government to keep her in line.

She's vaguely aware of the fact of how vulnerable they are, how she should be standing watch with her sword at the ready, but she can't bring herself to detangle Finnick from her body. His tremors continue to ripple through her. Her brain flashes back to the countless nightmares they'd helped each other through, some instances almost resulting in this exact situation. But not as bad as this. Before, Ontari may have been able to reassure him, It's okay. You're out and you're never going back. Now she can't guarantee anything. And even that promise had turned out to be a lie.

Johanna returns shortly with the large shells full of water. She hands one to Katniss and allows her to drink, then moves onto Cassian. The fact that he responds immediately to her offer is a good one. He's becoming more grounded— more in-tune to the reality of his emotions and his body's physical needs. Ontari makes a mental note to repeatedly check that he doesn't get trapped inside of himself.

A cannon blow in the distance has all of them scrambling to their feet. It seems to snap Finnick's fighting instincts back into place; he's the first to take off toward the beach. Peeta follows closely behind. Eventually, they all sprint back toward their previous spot near the ocean, watching as a hovercraft materializes through the force field and snatches a body out from the other side of the jungle. Ontari's stomach lurches at the sight of it. The remains are so disfigured that she can't even tell who it is, the limbs torn to shreds so close to falling apart entirely that she knows it's only the craft's electric current freezing it in place that prevents an arm falling back down into the greenery.

"Six o'clock," Cassian mutters hoarsely. "Let's avoid that at all costs."

Everyone nods in agreement.

The Golden Alliance manages to piece themselves back together after the scare with the jabberjays. Peeta rips another leaf off of a bush to create a new map with Katniss' help, Finnick begins crafting a fishing net, Beetee fiddles with the wire, Johanna keeps watch, and Cassian stares out into the tumultuous sea. Ontari decides to join her brother at his side. There's no breeze on the beach, unfortunately, and her hair had dried as she'd waited for the birds to stop screaming. Flyaways from her half-ruined ponytail stick to her face and neck from the humidity. Cassian's own raven locks are wild as always. The blood that had leaked from his ears is now dried, staining his pale skin a dark crimson.

His eyes aren't the clear shade of blue hers are, but they still carry the same tone as the churning waves as she asks tentatively, "Talk or be here?"

When Ontari had first emerged from her Games, she hadn't been able to speak about her trauma. Cassian had created the question Talk or be here? and passed it to the rest of their family. It gives the recipient the choice to speak about their troubles or simply have the other person stay with them. Sometimes, when words are too much, someone's mere presence can speak volumes.

As she expected, he responds with, "Be here."

Ontari nods in understanding and faces the sea. They stand just outside of the waves' vicinity, so when one surges up onto the shore, they watch it chase their nylon shoes but never touch them. She can't help but compare herself to the waves. Their goal is serenity, and yet it always seems so far out of reach...

She's jolted out of her thoughts by Cassian's fingers brushing her own. Ontari glances down to see his hand nudging hers, wanting her to clasp them together. It only takes her half a second to obey. Then, once their hands are entwined, she leans her head against his shoulder and puffs a sigh from her chapped lips.

This far. They've come this far. And they only need to survive a little bit longer, if everything goes to plan.

The Nightfall siblings stand and watch the sun set over the water until the anthem blares around the arena. Ontari is only half-aware of the fact that they'd received a sponsor gift a while ago, but nobody had disturbed their peace. Like they understood.

Ontari turns her gaze toward the sky to see the fallen tributes' faces. Cashmere. Gloss. For a moment, his corpse flashes in her mind, empty eyes staring at her own from beneath the water, then she blinks in just enough time to see his picture transition to Wiress. Mags. The woman from District Five. The morphling. Blight. The man from Ten.

So many gone in just one day. Had Mags' death really been just that morning? It seems like an eternity ago, experienced by a different Ontari who had been so naïve even then. So hopeful about their situation. Foolishly thinking that she wouldn't have to watch any of her friends die. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, whatever gods above were on her side.

"They're really burning through us," Johanna comments snidely from behind them. Ontari finally slips her hand from Cassian's and turns her back to the sea. "Who left besides us and District Two?"

"Chaff," Peeta responds immediately.

Ten left. Two more down and they'll be conducting the interviews with family members. Ontari's gut churns at the realization. Of course— her family won't be in Thirteen yet because the Capitol still needs them.

Hiding her disappointment, she glances toward Beetee in hopes he'll reassure her. The coil of wire is still clutched in his hands. His brown eyes are far away, though, and seemingly stare at nothing. Good. That's his thinking face. He must be coming up with some sort of plan.

Ontari notices that a parachute had indeed come down: twenty-four bread rolls from Beetee's district. With seven of them, they can't split them evenly, so Johanna had decided that they each get three for now. Accepting her bread, she plops onto the sand and digs into it hungrily. What is it with sponsors and bread? The carbs will probably make them even more sleepy. If only District Three could have sent them seven thermoses of soup instead.

But she won't complain about even having sponsors to begin with. In her first Games, she only received one. It had been an ice-cold water bottle. Ontari can still taste the salvation even seven years later. She had been so close to giving up, and the parachute sound had been like angels singing in her ears.

It's a relatively peaceful evening. Katniss and Peeta sit by themselves a little ways from their makeshift camp. Johanna busies herself sharpening her ax. Beetee continues staring off into space, his mind working in overdrive about what to do. Finnick is staring at the fish he'd managed to catch and cook for them. Half of his portion is untouched. Ontari opens her mouth, about to inquire, when he beats her to it.

"Take this, Cassian," Finnick says, effectively snapping the younger Nightfall out of yet another daze. The blond boy hands him the fish. "You need more food than I do."

Cassian shakes his head. "Finnick—"

"Take it," he orders earnestly. "I don't have an appetite, anyway."

Ontari stares down at her own half-finished meal, illuminated only by the stars and moon hanging in the pitch-black sky overhead. How did she become this way? Able to stomach food when she'd watched so many friends die, had actively killed others? When did this become a normal aspect of her life?

She doesn't give herself time to feel guilty about keeping herself alive. Maybe she'll force one of the bread rolls down Finnick's throat in the morning if he doesn't eat one then. All of their physical activity is guaranteed to make them lose energy and weight faster than normal. She can't have him passing out on them. Not when they're this close to the finish line.

The raven-haired girl finishes the bread and fish, glancing at the remaining tributes left in the Golden Alliance. "Who's keeping watch?"

"I will," Peeta offers. "You should all rest."

Ontari glances at Finnick, already asleep on the sand, hands tucked under his cheek like a pillow. Beetee has already begun to doze off against a tree. Even Johanna, still sharpening her weapons, does so sluggishly. So it's Cassian who says, "I'll join you."

Because they can't have only one of them keeping watch, especially not just Peeta. If something were to happen to him...

"No, it's fine," the blond boy protests. "I can do it myself."

Cassian glances over emotionlessly. "I insist."

There is no arguing with Cassian Nightfall, at least not for the Baker Boy, who has probably guessed by now that Nightfalls are notorious for being as stubborn as an ass. So he merely nods.

Ontari pats her little brother on the knee before lying down beside Finnick on the soft sand. She'll likely be washing it out of her hair for days if she ever escapes, but she can't find it in her to care as sleep beckons her into its warm embrace.

She doesn't know whether or not to be grateful that she has survived another day.

______

this chapter is one of the longest of the entire book, which surprised me when i realized it because i feel like more action has occurred in previous chapters. then again, i'm pretty proud of this one, so i'm not complaining!

thank you so much for 50k! i'm so grateful and i hope you stick around to witness the end of ontari's journey in the quarter quell (:

enjoy the gif of fluffy-haired cassian because he's ! so ! cute !

—kristyn