“I could not simply leave him,” I protest with a glint of mockery.

“You could have” -he pushes me down to the ground, his body heavy against my own, as a knife flies by- “and very well should have.”

I look up into his deep, green eyes. The sweat beading on his face and causing his dark, curly hair to drip. His suit is torn and we both pant in a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. I smirk at him and play with his hair.

“Well, well . . .” I say. Alaric Bram looks around to make sure the coast is clear. He shushes me and puts a warm finger to my lips.

“Shut up,” he speaks in an urgent whisper. I obey him, and watch the man’s face.

My brown hair is wet and every time I lick my lips, I taste the saltiness of my own dibilitation.

The trees above flutter and a swarm of crows flies out. It reminds me of my work in the mines, back in district 12. The bats that we would sometimes frighten and the eerie sounds that followed the grunts and clangs of tiresome workers.

It reminds me of the darkness, the corruption that came soon after my dear best friend, Billie Crew, died. He was a son of one of the Peace Keepers. Everyone despised him, but I would not allow myself to _act_ as everyone else. I had chosen to befriend him. We became very close. Our friendship was that of close siblings.

But it was soon after, that I started to really think. Everyone thought it ridiculous and foolish to be friends with the son of a Peace Keeper. It was soon after, that I started believing it. It was soon after, that his father had killed my mother and father. And then it was the last straw.

I murdered Billie Crew. The sounds of confusion uttering from his lips, as his mouth pooled with blood, was satisfying in a way. I had finally figured out exactly who I wanted to be. I wanted to be the cause of the Peace Keepers downfall, and I was damn good at my job.

However, that was before I met Alaric Bram. He knew who I was, what I did, and had told no one. Not because he was frightened by what I _could_ do to him, but because he knew what I _would_ _not_ do to him. I could never harm him. For some reason, every inch of my being forbade it.

And then we were chosen for the Hunger Games. They had lied to us about what a great honor it was to be involved in such an extraordinary event. They must have thought us children.

Every person in this ring right now, knows the truth about the Hunger Games. It is a senseless way of the Capital to show us just how powerful and wicked they can be. It is their way of controlling us—one of the ways, at least.

However, here is the truth: they can kill us all they want, but someday it will all come to an end. One day they will taste their own blood and feel the same dread as we.

“I think she is gone,” Alaric looks back at me. I stare at the open slit of his suit, his defined muscles. I know this will make him uncomfortable, and it is humorous to see him squirm.

“What was it you said to me before?—you know” -I trace the finness of his jaw- “about how you would ‘never fall in love with some one like me’?”

He pushes off with a huff of irritation. “You are disgusting,” he states and begins to walk away.

I get up and trot over to his side. To this, he rolls his eyes. “I cannot believe you went back for that thing.”

I reach down into my bag, and pull him out. “What do you mean?” I hold the frog up to him with a bright smile. “Just look him, Alaric. You mean to tell me, that you would have left Snow to die?”

He shoots me a side glance. “You named it ‘_Snow_’?”

“Of course I did! Can you not see the resemblance?” I hold it closer to Alarics face. He pushes my hand away and grimaces. “Exactly me point—“ I say, but he interrupts.

“You just love to irritate people, don’t you.” He says this as more a declaration than an actual question.

”I like tested my limits, if that is what you mean.” I pet Snow, who is a bit shaken as of now.

We are close to camp. Maybe once we get inside, I can make a little bed for the frog.

“How do you know when you have gone too far?” He asks. This is a real inquiry. He is serious.

We often have these moments together. You know, where things are more serious, and we allow ourselves to feel the weight of our situation. The atmosphere gets heavier every time.

I take a moment to think. Also, it just seems like the right thing to do—to leave a moment of quiet consideration. “When I cannot go back,” I finally answer.

The rest of the way, we walk in silence. Alaric seems more tense as we get closer to camp, which makes no sense to me.

Our hideout lies abaft a waterfall. From the sides and front, it looks like it has no cave behind. But in the beginning of the games, Alaric and I wanted to be sure. To our advantage, there was, indeed, a large hole behind the fall.

Once we arrive, we carefully approach the cascading water and drink from it. I wet Snow with the water. He was looking a tad crusty.

We sneak inside the cave, and lay our findings down. Scavenging, we had come across a few rabbits that we took down, and some other small portions of food. Oh yeah, and there was the person that attacked us when we were collecting berries.

Snow had, somehow, wiggled his way out of my side bag. So when we ran from the knife-throwing maniac, I did not notice until I stuck my hand inside the bag to feel his empty presence, that he had escaped. So, being the loyal person I am, I ran back for him—yet another thing that Alaric found annoying.

One cannot blame him, but—nah, I do.

I take a small cloth and lay it out on the floor for Snow. He seems to like it.

However, when I turn around, Alaric is right there. I stare at him. Does he have something to say? He does not speak.

“What are you doing,” I ask. My eyes dart around the cave. This is a bit awkward.

“Testing my limits,” he answers. My breathing hitches. He slides a hand around my waist, and pulls me into him. Then his lips crash down, against mine.

_What the hell is going on, _I think_. _

My hands find his hair.

I groan and Alaric finally breaks away from my mouth. His hands grip the back of my suit. The surprise in my gaze must be obvious. “Have I gone too far,” he asks. We both breath heavily.

“Not _nearly_ far enough,” I say. He smiles, his thumb brushing my lips as he dips his head for a another kiss.

“—it’s a bomb!” I blurt.

He pauses. “What are you talking about?”

“Snow—the frog. He’s a bomb,” I explain.

Alaric backs up and lets go of me. “You are kidding.”

I shake my head and bite my lip.

“They gave us permission to bring one, non-lethal item into the games, and you hide a bomb in a frog?”

I nod, slowly. He is going to be so angry with me. Why must I ruin everything?

But after a moment of silence, all Alaric does is burst out laughing. “You are crazy, Kaida Lacroix!” He manages, and I take that as my opportunity to chuckle along with him.

But then he stops. “—but this is still idiotic,” he adds.

I smile at him. “Just call us the ‘two idiots in the ring.’”