I woke to Madge gently shaking my shoulder, the quiet urgency in her touch pulling me instantly from sleep.
"Jake," she whispered, her face close to mine in the pre-dawn darkness. "Your watch. Everything's quiet, but..."
She hesitated, glancing toward the trees. "I heard something in the trees earlier."
Okay, that drove the last vestiges of sleep from my mind.
"How long ago?" I asked, carefully sitting up without making sudden movements. My injured arm protested the motion, stiff and throbbing beneath its bandage.
"Maybe an hour," Madge replied. "Just some rustling. Could have been an animal."
I nodded, reaching for the hammer I'd kept close while sleeping. "Get some rest. I'll keep an eye out."
Madge looked like she wanted to argue, but exhaustion won over stubbornness. She slipped into the sleeping bag I'd vacated, still warm from my body heat.
"Wake me at first light," she murmured, eyes already closing.
I positioned myself at the entrance to our small shelter, hammer in hand, senses alert for any signs of danger.
The arena was eerily peaceful in the pre-dawn hours, only the gentle gurgle of the stream and occasional rustling of leaves disturbing the silence.
My arm ached dully, but Madge's treatment had been effective. The bleeding had stopped, and while the wound was tender, it didn't show signs of infection. I flexed my fingers carefully, ensuring I still had full mobility for using the hammer if needed.
As I scanned the surrounding forest, I caught a slight movement high in a tree about thirty yards away. I kept my gaze steady, maintaining my relaxed posture to avoid revealing I'd noticed anything.
There—another movement, and this time I caught a glimpse of something that made my heart skip: a small dark hand disappearing behind a trunk.
Rue.
Rue had allied with Katniss after the tracker jacker incident. But like so many other elements of the story I knew, things were changing. Like butterfly effects rippling outward from my presence here instead of Peeta and Katniss.
I had a rough map of how events should unfold, but I couldn't rely on it entirely. Every decision I made, every interaction I had, shifted the future further from what I'd seen and known. I also needed to be careful about revealing what I knew—both to avoid suspicion and because I couldn't be certain it was still accurate in this altered timeline.
The sky gradually lightened as dawn approached, revealing our surroundings in increasing detail. The pine forest stretched in all directions, providing good cover but also plenty of hiding places for other tributes.
Our rocky outcropping remained the best shelter in the immediate vicinity, a defensive position worth maintaining for now.
As the first true rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, I turned to wake Madge as promised, only to find her already awake, watching me with alert eyes.
"There's someone in the trees," she whispered, barely audible.
I nodded slightly. "I know. Been there for a while."
Madge raised an eyebrow questioningly. I mouthed the word "Rue," and understanding dawned in her eyes.
We began our morning preparations with deliberate normalcy; checking my bandage, sipping water from our bottles, sharing a small portion of dried meat for breakfast. All while maintaining peripheral awareness of the trees where Rue hid.
"We need more food," I commented, loud enough to be heard by our hidden observer. "The stream might have fish, or we could try setting snares."
"I know some edible plants," Madge replied, following my lead. "My mother taught me which ones are safe."
"Perfect," I said, gathering our supplies. "Let's scout the area, see what we can find."
As we prepared to leave our shelter, I took a small portion of our dried meat, placed it on a leaf, and set it on a rock near our camp—a clear offering to whoever might be watching.
Madge gave me a questioning look, but didn't comment.
We spent the morning exploring the area around our stream, always staying within sight of our camp but gradually widening the perimeter of our known territory. Madge proved her knowledge about wild plants, identifying several edible varieties growing along the stream bank. I tried my hand at fashioning simple snares from the wire in my backpack, setting them in likely spots for catching small game.
By midday, we had gathered a modest harvest; some edible roots, berries, and green plants that Madge assured me were safe. No success with the snares yet, but that would take time.
When we returned to our camp, the meat offering was gone. In its place was a small bunch of unfamiliar berries, arranged in a deliberate pattern.
"A trade," Madge observed quietly, examining the berries. "And these are good ones—full of natural sugar."
"Seems like someone wants to be friends," I replied with a smile.
We prepared a simple lunch from our gathered plants and the gifted berries, making enough for three people.
As we began to eat, a soft voice came from above us.
"Those snares won't work without better trigger mechanisms."
We looked up to find Rue perched on a branch about fifteen feet overhead, watching us with intelligent dark eyes. Unlike the wariness I might have expected, her expression was more curious than afraid.
"You're welcome to join us," I said, gesturing to the extra food we'd prepared. "Plenty to share."
Rue tilted her head, considering for only a moment before descending the tree with remarkable agility. She moved from branch to branch with the ease of a squirrel, finally dropping lightly to the ground beside our camp.
"Thank you for the berries," Madge said warmly. "They're delicious."
"Thank you for the meat," Rue responded, settling cross-legged near our small food arrangement, though still maintaining enough distance for a quick escape if needed. "It's hard to find protein."
"How long have you been watching us?" I asked casually, passing her a portion of our meal.
"Since yesterday afternoon," she admitted without hesitation.
"We have a better chance together than apart, want to stay with us?" I asked, offering the simple strategic reasoning that would make sense to anyone in the arena.
Rue nodded, relaxing slightly as she continued eating. "Okay."
And just like that, our alliance was formed—no lengthy negotiations, no dramatic declarations of trust or mistrust. Just three people recognizing that cooperation improved their chances of survival.
"Where have you been staying?" Madge asked.
"In the trees," Rue replied between bites. "I tie myself to the branches with my belt so I don't fall while sleeping."
"Clever," I smiled, praising her. "But cold, I imagine."
She shrugged. "Safer than the ground."
"I can show you how to fix your snares. We use them sometimes in the orchards in Eleven, for rabbits and squirrels."
I stared at her as she spoke, and suddenly, I was struck by how much she reminded me of my sister Lily.
Free-spirited, innocence that blended with determination, and too young.
Too young to be in these games. Too young to die.
Unconsciously, I reached out a hand to pat her head. Her dark curls were soft and bouncy against my palm.
The action must've taken her aback, because Rue tilted her head questioningly. "What?"
"Sorry," I said, shaking my head with a soft smile, bringing my hand back. "You just reminded me of my sister for a moment."
"The girl at the Reaping?" she asked.
"Yes. Lily." My voice softened at my sister's name. "She's about your age, but she climbs trees too. Not for work, just for fun. She has that same fearless way of scrambling up like gravity doesn't apply to her."
I pulled the hammer pendant from beneath my shirt, opening the tiny latch that few would notice to reveal a minuscule compartment inside. From it, I extracted an even smaller object. A tiny carved wooden lily flower that Lily had given me before Reaping Day.
"She made this for me," I explained, showing it to Rue. "Said as long as I had it, I'd remember I had someone to come home to."
Rue's expression softened as she looked at the tiny carving, and beside me, I heard Madge's breath catch.
"You must miss her a lot," Rue said quietly.
"Every day," I stated, carefully returning the carving to its hiding place. "Which is why we need to keep figuring out how to survive in here."
Though I knew I probably couldn't save her in the end, at least for now…. For now, I want to keep her safe. Even if I'll certainly regret getting attached to her when this all falls apart. I can't just turn my back away or pretend she isn't real. That she doesn't matter when she does.
Who knows, maybe I'll die while protecting her as well. I wouldn't mind that happening. I wouldn't mind dying if Rue gets to live another day. I wasn't really from this world anyway. My only main concern was how the rebellion was going to happen if no one starts the fire.
Unaware of what's on my mind, Rue visibly relaxed, settling more comfortably into our small camp.
"I know where the Careers are," she offered, shifting the conversation back to survival. "They've set up by the lake, near the Cornucopia."
I nodded, pretending this was new information. The Careers always claimed the Cornucopia and its supplies as their base of operations. Same as in the movie.
"How many?" Madge asked.
"Five," Rue reported. "Both from One and Two, plus the boy from Three."
"District Three?" I questioned, deliberately feigning surprise. "That's unusual. The Careers don't typically ally with lower districts."
Rue nodded eagerly, pleased to share her valuable information. "He's helping them protect their supplies. They've set up the mines—you know, the ones from our platforms?—around their supply pyramid. He reactivated them somehow."
"That's clever," I acknowledged, while mentally confirming what I'd already anticipated. "So anyone who doesn't know the safe path gets blown up."
"Uh huh," Rue said. "The boy from Three is the only one who knows exactly where all the mines are buried. That's why they keep him alive."
"Have you been watching them?" Madge asked.
"From the trees," Rue confirmed. "They go hunting during the day, usually leaving the boy from Three to guard the supplies. But he stays well back. I think he's afraid of setting off the mines by accident."
This was exactly what I needed to know—or rather, what I needed to confirm from my memories of the original timeline. The Career supply pyramid protected by mines would be their greatest vulnerability if approached correctly.
"That's incredibly valuable information," I told Rue sincerely.
Her eyes lit up with the praise. "I can show you, if you want. From a safe distance."
"That would be perfect," Madge agreed. "The more we know about their operation, the better we can avoid them."
Or sabotage them, I thought but didn't say.
Rue helped us reset my snares with improved trigger mechanisms, her small fingers deftly arranging the wires in more sensitive configurations. We spent the afternoon gathering more food and reinforcing our shelter to accommodate a third person. Throughout it all, Rue integrated seamlessly into our small team, her natural abilities complementing our own skills.
By evening, one of the improved snares had caught a rabbit. A proof of Rue's expertise. She offered to clean and prepare it, demonstrating another survival skill gleaned from her life in District 11.
"We don't get much meat," she explained as she worked efficiently away from our main camp. "But when we catch something, we can't waste any part of it."
Madge gathered wood for a small, well-concealed fire while I constructed a crude spit from branches. It was a risk to have a fire at all, but the deepening twilight would help hide the smoke, and the rocky overhang provided good concealment for the flames.
As darkness fell, the three of us sat in the warm glow of our tiny fire, sharing the cooked rabbit and some of the plants Madge and Rue had identified as complementary. It was a surprisingly satisfying meal after a long day.
"Tomorrow we can go see the Career camp," Rue suggested as we ate. "They hunt in a different section of the forest each day. Tomorrow they'll probably check the northern woods, which means we can observe from the south."
Since I can't rely on the movie for information anymore, I needed to adapt, to rely more on present observation and less on potentially outdated knowledge.
"We should take turns keeping watch tonight," I suggested as we finished our meal. "I can take first shift."
"I'll take second," Madge volunteered.
"And I'll take third," Rue added, eager to contribute equally to our alliance.
We arranged our sleeping space, using the two sleeping bags to create a shared bedding area under the rock overhang. Despite her earlier independence, Rue showed no hesitation in settling between Madge and me, her small body radiating warmth in the cooling night air.
As I took the first watch, hammer resting across my knees, I found myself contemplating.
Rue brought not just practical skills and intelligence to our group, but something we'd been missing—a reminder of why this fight mattered. Not just for our own survival, but for a world where children like Rue and Lily wouldn't be sacrificed for political control and entertainment.
The anthem played eventually, the Capitol seal illuminating the night sky. No faces appeared—no deaths today. The Gamemakers would be getting restless if the pattern continued. They never allowed peaceful periods to last long in the arena.
Looking at my sleeping companions—Madge's blonde hair spilling across her pack, Rue's small form nestled trustingly beside her—I felt a renewed resolve.
Whatever the Gamemakers throw at us next, whatever divergences occur, I need to keep them alive. The girls are too good to be killed in these games. They don't belong here. No one does.
My knowledge of future events might be increasingly unreliable, but some things remained certain.
The Capitol's cruelty. The fact that the Games themselves are the real enemy. Not the other children forced to participate in them. The power of protecting those who deserved protection. And the power to fight back.
Especially when the odds are against you.
That truth, at least, would never change, no matter how many butterflies flapped their wings.