The arena was the great equalizer. Despite how much the careers had trained over the years, Haymitch had witnessed lesser districts triumph over natural winners time after time and sometimes, it didn't matter how careful a person was—death came for everyone eventually. It was a sightly pessimistic outlook on things, to assume that he (probably) wasn't going to make it out alive, but that wasn't something that he planned to tell Katniss. The less she knew about everything, especially the plan that was currently hanging in the balance, the better because there was already enough stress plaguing all of them and Haymitch knew how worried she was about Prim out there. For now, he could only hope that Gale was protecting her.

“I was tired of you the moment I met you,” he quipped in return, offering her an easy smile as they walked along. It was the most natural they had been with one another since being thrust into the arena, and those small moments of reprieve were excellent motivation to keep going, to stay sane and not obsess about whatever may have been lurking around the next corner. As it was, Haymitch could nearly see the end of the marsh area and he was more than happy with the prospect of being back on dry, solid land soon. Unfortunately, artificial nature had other plans for them. 

Up ahead, a swam of small, black bugs that resembled gnats hung in the air. Haymitch paused, hands on the straps of the pack around his shoulders as Katniss suggested trying to go around. It was, more or less, their only option, but the former Victor didn't think that the insects were simply going to stay in one place and let them pass without incident. There was someone behind those controlled, more than likely poised with a finger on the button and ready to send the bugs on the attack. “Where else can we go?” he asked, looking down at the narrow path they were already on—it didn't branch off anywhere else, but that seemed to be the idea.

At first, the plan of moving slowly and in the opposite direction seemed to be working but a loud humming noise soon caught up with them and forced the pair into a hard sprint. Haymitch felt his foot slip every few paces, dipping into the black water on either side of the path as the wheat field drew nearer. If they could just make it there, he thought, the bugs would stop the same way the dangerous mist had. 

Diving, Haymitch slid onto a patch of dusty land, dirt rising around himself and Katniss who had turned onto her back. “Those?” he asked, catching his breath as he looked down at the few leeches that hung from her legs, “don't think that's a good idea.” With dirt-covered fingers, the aging Victor reached out and grabbed the wriggling, black body before sliding his finger across Katniss' exposed skin. A trickle of blood made its way down her calf, and Haymitch managed to say something soothing to her as he pulled the parasite free. The teeth were notable in size, ringed with red and still champing at the bit. With little consideration, Haymitch tossed it out into the field, hoping it would soon shrivel and die under the steadily rising sun.

“Do you have anything to wrap that with?” he asked, looking up at her as he reached for a second leech.

The time at the Capitol now seemed like a cruel trick. Before Katniss had won the games the year before, Prim was used to getting by on very little and making do with whatever Katniss happened to bring in from the wilds but all of that food that they had been offered the week before had temporarily erased a lifetime of struggle. Out in the arena, there was nothing prepared and every meal either needed to be caught or stolen from someone else. Prim knew what it was like to feel hungry, to bargain with herself that she could wait a little longer but hunger made people crazy sometimes. “Are you sure?” she asked, wishing that Gale would eat something if he needed it. Staving off the hunger pangs was easier than trying to fill up when times got desperate.

After a little more time was spent plodding through the swampy marshland, the next area finally came into view. They were almost back where they had started and inwardly, Prim wondered if another calamity was on the verge of nullifying their progress, to send them back to the start. With the image of that centipede still in her mind, Prim didn't want to risk taking shelter in the town for another night. 

“I'm okay,” she assured with a nod as they straddled the invisible line between each zone. The field was nothing but tall grass, easy to get lost in and it was sure to make a fantastic hiding spot for tributes and mutts alike. “A tether?” she asked with a raised brow, unsure of the idea. It was better than holding hands through the field, but if even two other tributes were to sneak up on them, fighting them off was going to be close to impossible. Before she could even say anything, Gale was cutting at his shirt.

“We have rope!” she objected with a huff and immediately reached into the pack to produce the coil she had salvaged the night before. “You can't keep cutting up your clothes like that,” Prim went on, sure that she sounded a bit like her mother when she nagged, “what are you going to if they—if the temperature drops? What if [i]something[/i] sticks to you?” It was the first time that she had panicked since being raised up into the arena, but the heaving in her chest felt justified as her shaking hands began to reproduce one of the knots that Katniss had showed her during training.