Rue took the waterskin, turning it over in her hands like it might vanish if she blinked. Then she looked at him—really looked—and Goo saw it: suspicion, calculation, and something else.
Hope. Fragile, but alive.
"You killed the boy from District 4," she said.
He didn't answer.
She nodded anyway, like she already knew.
"You killed two more."
Another pause. Then, a soft:"Why give me water?"
Goo crouched beside a mossy rock, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Because it's a long game," he said. "And you're smart enough to last in it."
Rue tilted her head. "And you?"
"I'm not trying to win it."
She narrowed her eyes. "Then what are you trying to do?"
He looked at the trees. At the sky. At the cameras he couldn't see but always felt.
"…Break it."
They moved together that night.
Not like allies.
More like shadows side by side.
She showed him which roots were safe, which ones would make a man vomit for hours. She taught him the sound of tracker jackers before they dropped. In return, he taught her how to hold a knife. Not the way Peacekeepers showed you—but how to really hold it. So it didn't shake. So it didn't slip.
They didn't speak much. But they didn't need to.
Rue understood something instinctively: Goo wasn't there to protect her. He wasn't sentimental. He wasn't heroic.
But he respected her.
And that was safer than kindness.
They mapped the Arena in whispers.
There was a stream cutting across the northeast quadrant. Two fallen trees that crossed like an X over it. Goo called that the choke point. They rigged snares and simple traps near it—nothing that would kill, just slow.
Disorient.
Force them to react.
The Capitol wanted spectacle.
Goo gave them stillness.
They wanted blood.
He gave them absence.
The fourth night, a Career wandered too close. He had a sword and a flashlight. Made too much noise. Rue started to reach for her knife.
Goo stopped her with one hand.
They watched the boy for fifteen minutes without moving.
Then he left.
That was the play: not to fight every battle, but to choose.
Let the others burn calories, waste energy, lose sleep. Goo and Rue watched. Waited.
Controlled.
That night, while they sat on a high branch eating roasted roots, Rue asked, "Were you always like this?"
He didn't answer.
She tried again. "Before the Reaping, I mean."
He looked at her, then away.
"I wasn't here," he said. "Not really. But yeah… I was always like this."
"That's not a real answer," she said.
"No," Goo said. "It's not."
The next morning, a feast announcement came.
The voice of the Capitol echoed across the trees:A single pack will be placed at the Cornucopia. One for each District. Medicine. Supplies. Water.
Rue looked at Goo.
He looked back.
Then stood.