Behind dehydration, infection was just as deadly as any tribute. Haymitch didn't like that he and Katniss were without a clean piece of cloth, even if the bites on her legs and ankles were miniscule compared to some of the other wounds he had witnessed in the past—his own included. Still, it was difficult to tell what the base of the mountain held and stomping around through the weeds, dirt and grass was never the most comfortable or sanitary thing in the world. Knowing that there was no sense in complaining about it, Haymitch did his best to put Katniss' safety out of his mind. For now, he could only physically look after her, and she was doing on hell of a job in looking after him as well.

Now that they were both leech-free, attention could be given to the grassy field ahead. It seemed to stretch on for miles, the shoots taller than he or Katniss, who couldn't even jump high enough to find a point of reference. “I think we're going to be food for whatever's out there,” he said, not seeing a point in trying to sugar coat their situation. The marsh had been one thing, but at least they had been able to see their surroundings—this was blind spot after blind spot and if someone, or something, wanted to hunt them down and kill them, it would only be too easy.

Unfortunately, there was no other way to the mountains and if they were careful, he and Katniss would come out on the other side in one piece. 

Gripping his ax, Haymitch hacked at the tall grass in front of them, but the heavy blade, sharp as it was, didn't do much but bend them out of the way. “I think we're just going to have to wade through it,” he said, sounding dissatisfied, “it's probably going to take all day.” There would be no stopping for naps that day, no way to rest when they were sure to be waiting like sitting ducks for whatever lurked in the grass. “Let's get going,” he added, keeping hold of his ax with one hand and giving Katniss's shoulder a squeeze as he stepped into the grassy sea.

Just as he suspected, visibility was low and seeing more than a few feet ahead at a time was asking too much. “Stay close,” Haymitch said, his voice low as he looked to Katniss. “If we get separated out here, just keep heading for the mountain and I'll meet you there.” His life wasn't important, not the way Katniss' was and there were two other people out there who could help get her to the end. Even if Haymitch wasn't fond of Gale, he trusted the other man to do the right thing.

Stress was a funny thing. Although one shirt sleeve wasn't going to be the difference between life and death, it [i]felt[/i] that way, and worse, the thought of losing Gale to some accident was starting to get to her. The blonde took a few deep breaths as she finally got the knot tied and did her best to remind herself that they had already made it farther than so many other tributes; they were still alive, still moving and sleeve or not, they had a plan to carry out. Glancing around, Prim hoped that she hadn't made more work for Peeta by letting her weaknesses show. Regardless, she swallowed her bubbling panic and prepared to head deeper into the arena.

Stepping into the tall grass, the rope between them dragged over top of the blades, which made the area feel less confined. It was a nice change from the marsh, no matter how unpredictable, and it was a relief to feel dry land under her boots as they walked along. “Sorry about before,” she whispered over to Gale as they went on, wanting to reach for his hand, but the middle of a strange field was no time for romance, “but I didn't get this rope for nothing.” It was just a joke, something to make the situation a little less tense but Prim quieted herself after. Aside from the sounds of their own feet moving through the grass, it was eerily quiet.

The progress was slow, but eventually, Gale stopped after hearing something. Shaking her head, Prim furrowed her brow, having not heard anything herself. “I think it's just us,” she said, but gripped the knife in her hand anyway, her fingers blanching around the handle as she strained to hear something among the grass. When Gale began to undo the knot between them, Prim reached to stop him, not thinking that it was a very good idea, but a shadow in the corner of her eye stopped her.

Behind them, there was the faintest rustling sound and whatever was out there, was making quick work of the grass that had slowed their pace. “Back to back?” she suggested, hoping to work out some kind of strategy before whatever was out there pounced. The centipede from the night before instantly came to mind, and Prim suppressed a shudder as she looped the rope out of the way and armed herself.