Day 2, D8

Fire arrows. Snow and what's-her-face are shooting fire arrows at us. I glance at Timothy, who looks indignant that they're using his preferred weapon against us. However, we've prepared for this eventuality, having sluiced down the meadow around the Cornucopia with river-water. I'm glad I made him take this precaution, and we sit at the mouth of the Cornucopia, watching their vain attempts to set fire to our camp. They grow better with practice, however, and soon Timothy suggests we retreat into the horn. I'm not thrilled about losing our view, but it is certainly the prudent course. We're hurried on our way by the fact that an arrow pinged off the gold right where I'd been sitting mere seconds ago.
Arming ourselves, we sit down to wait it out. The howling of mutts is clearly audible, and it's too much to hope that they won't somehow make it onto our protected little island. We can only hope that they'll get 1 and 12 first. "Timothy," I say quietly. "We can't both make it." The question trembles on the air - which of us will be killed off? Or will they make us fight each other?
He reaches over, taking my hand. "We'll burn that bridge when we come to it," he murmurs softly.

Timothy:
Charlene giggles slightly at my words, and I smile a little, glad she seems to have cheered up a bit. "Have I mentioned today how much I really, really hate Snow?"
"Which one?" she asks dryly, reaching for a bottle of our precious water.
I peer out at the treeline. "Does it matter? That poisonous apple didn't fall far from the warped tree. He wants us dead, she's trying to kill us. She's worse than a Career," I add in a grumble. "This is the sort of behavior one expects from them, but a Twelver should know better."
"We're in this to win this, too," she reminds me.
"Neither of us has killed a single person," I point out, a bit waspishly, and she doesn't reply.

Charlene:
I don't want to die. But Timothy is just so much more full of life, excited and enthusiastic and clever. I'd rather be the loser than he, I want him to live. But if it comes down to me and either of the others....he's right, Snow is worse than a Career. I feel even more revolted by the fact that we'd considered her as an ally before she allied herself with Careers. "Moore?" I mutter. "Is that her name?"
"Maybe," Timothy grunts. Conversation languishes as we wait.