White. All he can see is white as the knife punctures through the skin of his thigh. He wails and his head drops against the cold, wet stone near the creek.

The opponent leaves Peeta, wanting nothing more but to hear the canon in the sky tonight, indicating Peeta's gorey death.

Peeta bites his lip hard as he unsheathes the knife from the wound, letting out a loud yelp at the scorching pain that surged through his veins.

He presses his hand tight over the gash, attempting to stop the pool of blood growing beneath him, to no avail.

A figure appears infront of him, but he couldn't care. For all he knew, he was about to die.

The figure kneels next to him, pressing a hand deep onto his injury, muttering something he couldn't quite understand with his unfocused hearing.

"{{user}}...?" he breathes.