Rosemary

They went straight to their rooms once they got back to their floor in the Training Center. Rosemary wanted to get all the makeup and glitter off of her and wash off the nervous sweat that had coated her body since she had gotten dressed that evening. Using the heavy-duty makeup remover that Cinna gave her, she painstakingly cleaned the chunky glitter from the corner of her eyes and then the rest of her face before jumping into the shower. She scrubbed her body until her skin was pink and washed the hairspray out of her hair.

Once dried and dressed in a pair of silk pajamas, Rosemary left her room for dinner.

It was their last night together and therefore the last meal that Rosemary and Rye would eat with Effie, Haymitch, Cinna, Vina, and Larkin. The food served was especially luxurious; roasted lamb, filet mignon, rich smashed potatoes with truffles, sauteed garlic green beans, and brown bread with the lightest whipped butter Rosemary had ever seen. She had bits of all of it and then forced herself to eat a second helping of each as well. She needed every possible calorie available to fuel her in the arena.

Rye had the same idea but fortunately, his stomach was bigger than Rosemary's and he could eat as many helpings as he wanted without getting bloated. Eventually Rosemary had to move on to dessert, indulging in some black tie mousse cake that was so delicious she never wanted to eat anything else. She could remember the taste long after it was gone.

While everyone ate, they spoke about the interviews, going over Rosemary and Rye's first.

"Honestly, you had me worried for a second there, Pipsqueak," Haymitted admitted as he took a bite of creme brulee. "I thought that maybe the audience would be put off by your vulnerability, but they found it refreshing and honest. Now, could any other Tribute do what you did? I'm not so sure."

Rosemary would take his commentary as a compliment, relieved that she had appealed to the Capitol in the way that she and Haymitch planned.

"It was very touching," Effie agreed. "All the other Escorts just thought you were so lovely."

Rosemary gave her a grateful smile and stuffed another bite of cake in her mouth.

"And Rye, you did swimmingly," Effie turned to her brother now. "You were so charismatic, everyone loved you."

"I was very impressed," Larkin told him and then added, "with both of you."

Vina nodded. "You both had the audience eating out of the palms of your hands."

"You guys did good, there's no doubt about that," Haymitch stated. "My concern is that so did a lot of the other Tributes."

"This has been the best bunch of Tributes that we've had in years!" Effie trilled; Rosemary rolled her eyes and shared a look with Rye. "The competition will be intense, that's for sure."

Quite frankly, Rosemary was used to such comments from Effie by now. She just had to remember that she meant well, but ignorance only got a person so far. If Cinna, Vina, and Larkin, who were all Capitolites, could be tactful about the Games, then she could too.

"We'll keep that in mind tomorrow when everyone's trying to kill us," Somehow, even though she could tell that Rye was annoyed by the furrow in between his brows, his tone made it seem like he was joking. She knew he did it so an argument wouldn't break out. It wouldn't do on their last night to be angry with one another.

Thankfully, Vina picked up on Rye's thoughts and changed the subject, talking about the other Tributes' outfits. Most of them agreed that some of the dresses and suits weren't so bad, but it was clear that District 12 outshone them with Vina and Larkin's designs.

Eventually dinner came to an end and Cinna, Vina, and Larkin went to retire for the night. They would see Vina and Larkin in the morning, but they did have to say goodbye to Cinna. Rosemary hugged him and thanked him for his help. He had been a great help from the beginning of her time in the Capitol, calming her down and acting as one of her champions. She was truly lucky to have met him and she made sure to tell him so.

Cinna smiled and kissed her cheek. "You've got a spark in you, Rosemary. Remember that."

After the others left, Rosemary and Rye were led into the living room by Effie and Haymitch so they could watch a quick recap of the Pre-Game Interviews. They spent the most time on their own interviews, as they had witnessed everyone else's. As she watched herself chat with Caesar, she couldn't help but feel disgusted. The Rosemary that had been interviewed was not her at all. The only time she could really see her true self throughout the interview was when she spoke about Rye and how she was afraid of the Games. Her vulnerability, like Haymitch had said, had been when she was the most honest.

She felt bad, but she envied Rye. He didn't have to play a role. Sure, he definitely sucked up the Capitol and Caesar, but he really was charming and friendly in real life. He was kind and he loved his family too, which was shown during his interview as well. The only good thing about the role she was forced to play was that she had the benefit of the Capitolites not knowing her true self. She was glad, they didn't deserve her and they certainly didn't deserve Rye, either.

Once they finished the interviews, a solemn feeling filled the air. It made her uncomfortable. It was time to say goodbye to Haymitch and Effie. In the beginning of this journey, she would have never thought that saying goodbye to them would make her sad, but here she was, eyes tingling as she glanced back and forth at her Mentor and district escort.

Just like she and Rye had work to do once the Hunger Games began, so did they. From here on out, Rosemary and Rye couldn't do anything else to earn sponsors except survive. It was up to Haymitch and Effie to get them sponsored. They'd all be working together still, even if they were separated by an arena.

Effie was the first to say goodbye. She hugged Rosemary tight for a long moment before doing the same to Rye. It was clear that she was emotional and it made Rosemary wonder if she had gotten so attached to her Tributes the year before.

"Good luck, you two," she sniffed. "I'm rooting for you."

"Thank you, Effie," the siblings said together.

She gave them one last look before scurrying away. They could hear when she started to cry.

Now, they turned to Haymitch.

"Any last words of advice?" Rye asked him.

"This is opposite of my usual advice, but I think going to the Cornucopia will be a good move for you two," Haymitch crossed his arms over his chest. "You'll be able to watch each others' backs while retrieving weapons and supplies. Once you have them, though, get out of there. Find water. If you don't find water, you won't survive and you need to survive."

There were no sappy goodbyes with Haymitch, but Rosemary preferred it that way. He wouldn't be Haymitch if he got emotional over them. She did give him a hug before he left for this room, though, whispering her thanks in his ear and reminding him about helping Rye win the Games. He simply nodded at her and told them both to get some sleep before disappearing down the hallway.

Rye turned to Rosemary and arched an eyebrow at her. "Whaddya say? One last time on the roof?"

Rosemary nodded. "One last time."

It wasn't like she was going to be able to sleep anyway, and she doubted Rye would be able to either. Besides, this was probably the last opportunity for them to spend time together before they were thrust into the Games where survival would be the only thing on their minds.

There were still no stars in sight and even the moon was missing due to the fireworks that were lighting up the sky every few seconds, sending loud booms and crackles into the air. In the streets below the Training Center, Capitolites were crowded together, celebrating and cheering for their favorite Tributes. Music blared, there was loud, drunken singing, and occasional honks from cars; Rosemary looked down at it amazed, they couldn't hear a single peep from inside the building.

They sat in their usual seats in the lounge chairs near the flower beds. Rosemary picked a tulip and sniffed it, smiling at the scent and the beauty that she had always admired the flowers for.

"I'm tired," Rye yawned, stretching his arms out behind his head. "But I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

"Me either," Rosemary pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "I thought maybe the roof would make me feel better, but listening to them down there, cheering and singing for the deaths of twenty-three children? It makes me sick."

Rye nodded. "And we need them to survive! That's the worst part and we just have to play along and appeal to them in any way we can while they are the ones who are putting us in the arena and sentencing us to death. It makes me want to scream."

"Then scream," Rosemary suggested with a shrug. "No one will hear, anyway. Might as well get it out."

Rye didn't argue, opening his mouth wide and letting out a scream that only she would hear. Noticing how cathartic it looked for him, Rosemary joined in until they both ran out of breath.

"Feel better?" Rosemary asked, fighting to even her breathing.

"A little bit, I guess," Rye sighed. "I just don't like how little control we have. I mean, we can fight hard and kill people and survive the Games, but we won't be the same. It's gonna change us."

Rosemary didn't have the heart to correct him. Only one of them would be getting out of the arena alive, and it was going to be him.

"You won't change," a lump appeared in Rosemary's throat and her eyes started to sting with tears. "You'll fight and kill because you'll have to. And yes, it's different and it's not in your nature, but it's necessary for survival. As long as you're alive, you're still you. You're Rye Mellark, my dorky older brother who can talk anyone into anything if he puts his mind to it."

Rye laughed to hide the tears in his eyes. "Aw, Rosie. I think this is the first time I've heard you say anything so poetic. Did you read it out of a book or something?"

"You're such a dick."

"So you've told me."

Even with all the noise coming from the streets below, they fell into a comfortable silence. Moments like these were some of Rosemary's favorites with her brothers. They always understood that she wasn't like them, that she couldn't function off of social interactions all day like they could. She needed the quiet sometimes, even if she still craved their company. She didn't like to be alone, and she never was with Rye and Peeta around.

"Rye?"

"Yeah?"

"I really need you to win," Rosemary whispered shakily. "I need you to win and go home and take care of Peeta, okay? Because if you die and I'm the one that goes back, I won't be able to survive."

"Rose–"

"Please, just let me talk, okay?" when he nodded, she continued. "Look, I have never loved anyone more than I love you and Peeta. You two are my heart and if I lose you, either of you, I won't be able to function, okay?"

Rosemary knew that her dependance on her siblings–and her siblings' dependance on her–wasn't healthy. No one's mental sanity should be dependent on anyone but themselves, but this was her way to survive. Rye could understand it, but he wouldn't fully get it. He never had to fight for his survival before, not like she and Peeta had to, but she still depended on him to keep her safe and grounded and she wouldn't be able to feel those things ever again if he died and she, somehow, got to live.

"Promise me you'll win, Rye. Not just for me, but for Peeta and Dad and Kline too."

"What if I want to fight for you too?"

"Then fight for what I want, for you to go home."

-

Before Rosemary had even gone to school, she had read about the Dark Days, the Treaty of Treason, and the Capitol. She knew about the Hunger Games and though she had never seen them, she knew how her father felt about them. They were barbaric and classist and violent and psychotic–and those words were just in one sentence that came out of her dad's mouth. Of course, she would discover how astonishingly right her father was about it all, because in the summer of her second year of school, at age six, she watched the Hunger Games for the first time.

The 60th Hunger Games lasted for a long three weeks. It was one of those Games that were darker than the others, and before Rosemary was ushered away from the hologram, she had seen one of the Tributes from District 7 eat at least two other Tributes. Cannibalism was where the Capitol had its limit and if it wasn't for an avalanche caused by the Gamemakers, then the District 1 Victor, Stone, wouldn't have beat the Tribute. By the time that Stone was proclaimed the winner, Rosemary hadn't been able to sleep for two days because of near-constant nightmares.

Since the 60th Hunger Games, Rosemary had never stopped having nightmares about the Hunger Games. Even now, ten years later, she was woken up by a night terror, gasping herself awake from a version of her brother being torn apart and eaten by Biff, the male Tribute of District 1.

She stared at the ceiling of her bedroom in the Training Center, with tears in her eyes, thinking about the list of endless horrors that could happen when they entered the arena in the next few hours. Cannibalism was just where it stopped, but the Capitol was really entertained by almost everything else and it was all fair play in the Games. Sexual assault, suicide, the goriest deaths one could imagine, and drug abuse had been featured before and Rosemary feared that it was something that she and Rye would come across.

It was terrifying.

Curled into a little ball underneath a pile of silk sheets and a down comforter, Rosemary shook frantically at the thought of entering the arena. She was going to die. She could be dead within a few hours and she hadn't even lived yet.

But what life would she even be living even if she did survive the Games? Rye would be dead, she would want to be dead, Peeta and her father would probably hate her, as would Kline, and nothing in Panem would change. There would still be the Hunger Games and as long as they were around, what future could there be? It wasn't safe to get married or have kids, because they'd just be Reaped for the Hunger Games, too, and the cycle would go on and go and she would be just another complacent person who let such evil acts happen.

Haymitch's salute on the train echoed through her mind. "Here's to 40 and 41."

If she were to win, she wouldn't be able to do what Haymitch had been doing for twenty years. She couldn't mentor two kids who were sentenced to death, get attached to them, care about them, care for them, and then send them off into an arena where she'd try to get Capitolites to sponsor them, knowing that no one would. Rosemary couldn't do it. Look what it has done to Haymitch!

Watching Haymitch the past week, Rosemary realized that The Games never seemed to end for Victors. They had to come back each year, reliving their trauma and watching kids be put through the same thing, watching kids dying. Her observations made one thing certain in her mind; even if she could survive Rye's death, she wouldn't be able to keep going, anyway. Even if Rye hadn't been Reaped, she wouldn't want to be a Victor. She didn't want to be alive, but be dead inside.

She would rather just be dead.

-

Rye

His body woke naturally at 4:30 that morning, only three–no, two hours, he realized–after he felt his eyes getting tired. Even though he'd been away from the bakery for a week, his body still hadn't really gotten used to waking up at any other time. He was pretty sure he got to sleep-in once during the week, and that was around the same amount of times he'd slept-in in his life.

Knowing that Larkin wouldn't arrive for another three hours, he tried to get some sleep. He closed his eyes and tossed and turned underneath his sheets, even flipping his pillow on the colder side to try to coax himself to sleep, but it just didn't work. He couldn't stop thinking.

Whipping off his sheets, he shrugged on the shirt he wore before bed, slipped on some socks, and sloped up the stairs to the roof. The dark sky was getting lighter, but the sun wouldn't officially rise for maybe another hour. He plopped down on one of the loungers and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the sky.

The stars had never been visible from the Capitol, but even the moon could be seen most days. That morning it was cloudy and Rye was disappointed to see that the moon wasn't hidden the night before because of firework smoke but rather the clouds that haunted the sky.

Are the stars even going to be real in the arena? He thought to himself. What about the moon?

He should have asked Rosemary about that. Surely she would know if each arena got its own artificial sky. And if they didn't, that would mean the last time he saw the stars was the last night he and his siblings got to watch a Sunday sunset.

Maybe he would see them again...

No, he couldn't think like that. If he was going to be seeing the real stars, that meant Rose was dead and he couldn't have that. Yes, he promised to fight for her and he would, but that certainly didn't mean he was just going to ignore his sister and let her die. It mattered who left the arena and though Rye would prefer Rosemary to be the Victor, he knew that was not what she wanted.

It was all so complicated. How was he supposed to do this? He couldn't do this.

"God-fucking-dammit," he cursed under his breath and moved on his seat so he was no longer laying on his back and watching the sky, and instead facing the flowerbeds. There were tulips and roses and daisies. There were purple asters, which were Kline's favorite. He remembered picking some out for her in the woods back home, when he and Tisin dared to sneak out of the no-so-electrified fence. She had kissed him and told him she loved him and he was happy.

Even though Rye could feel the remnants of warmth that Kline's love–and subsequently, his love for her–stirring in his chest, it didn't make him feel any better at the moment. It was just another thing to be worried about throughout the whole situation.

Protect Rose. Protect yourself. Get back home. Go back to Kline. Take care of Peeta. Get Rose out of there. Save yourself. Save Rose...

His head had never been more packed with thoughts. Sure, he got anxious sometimes, but he was not a nervous person like his sister was. This ongoing anxiety–the feeling that had his stomach churning the whole time he had been in the Capitol–was new and he hated it.

Fuck, he hated everything at that moment.

Watching the sunrise calmed Rye down and helped him organize his thoughts. The plan for today was to get a weapon, get through the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, stick with Rose, find water, and survive. He could plan more later. One day at a time for now.

After close to two hours of silence on the roof, his anxiety taken care of and plan for the Games ready, he left to go take a shower. He stayed there for maybe forty-five minutes, soaking in what might have been his last shower, and sang one of the songs Sage had taught them when they were kids.

When he was clean, dried, and dressed, he entered his room and saw Larkin waiting for him. She gave him a nod, satisfied that he followed her directions.

Before following Larkin out of the room, he took one last good look around. He had no belongings here except for the mockingjay pin that Delly had given him, but that was in Larkin's possession until he was dressed in the outfit he'd wear for the Games. Still, he felt kind of melancholy about leaving the room he slept in for a week.

He and Larkin made their way up the stairs to the roof. There was a hovercraft already in the air above the building, but it wasn't for him. He briefly saw the girl from Eleven, Jesi, being pulled up on a ladder before she disappeared into the craft and it flew away.

Within a minute, another hovercraft was above them. This one was for him.

Larkin went up the ladder first and then he climbed onto the first metal prong. Immediately he was frozen from some kind of electric current running through his body, paralyzing him. At first he panicked, but then he realized it was because they didn't want him to fall as they brought the ladder up into the hovercraft.

While he was still stuck to the ladder, a woman in a stark white lab coat walked over to him with a large needle in one hand and a tablet in the other. She swiftly stabbed the needle into his arm and he felt weird as something bumpy and cold made its way under his skin.

"That is your tracker," the woman caught the look on his face and tapped her tablet. A light inside his arm flared for a moment before the tablet chirped and he saw a little dot with his name on it pop up on a map.

It was how the Gamemakers could keep track of them all. Their location, their pulse, blood sugar, and even their temperature would be shown during the Games while Panem watched, using the stats as betting tools.

As soon as the current stopped running through his body, he and Larkin were escorted to another room by one of the hovercraft's two assigned Peacekeepers. The room was small but there was enough room for a couple of seats and a small table of food.

Rye's stomach growled and he didn't waste time stacking his plate with breakfast. He didn't eat anything greasy, not wanting to feel weighed down by the oil, but he did indulge in a huge cinnamon roll, freshly cut fruit, sunny-side up eggs, and toast with jam. Orange juice was also provided for him, along with an ice cold jug of water.

Larkin ate with him and they exchanged some light chit-chat for a while between bites. When Rye knew he was done with his food and juice, he switched to water, filling up glass after glass until he felt like he could burst.

"At least you know to stay hydrated before the Games," Larkin laughed after he came back from the bathroom, where he had disappeared to relieve his bladder. "Some Tributes are so nervous they don't eat or drink anything."

"Well, don't get me wrong, I'm nervous. But I know I need all the calories I can get and who knows when I'll see water again?"

"You have a smart head on your shoulders, Rye," Larkin grinned at him. "You could really win this, you know?"

Rye knew she didn't mean anything bad by it, but he didn't like her statement. It had too many implications and meanings and it wasn't the plan to think about that today. Today was about survival, for both him and Rosemary.

-

Rosemary

She was a nervous wreck and nothing that Vina could say or do was helping her. She forced herself to eat and drink despite her nausea and was taking deep breaths to not only keep herself from vomiting, but disappearing into an anxiety attack that wouldn't help her do anything.

She paced back and forth across the small room that she and Vina had been given for breakfast, nails digging deep into her palms. Bless his heart, Vina looked miserable, upset that he couldn't help her, and he had long decided to give up on telling her to keep her nails away from her skin. He could apply medicine before the Games started and hope that her sores wouldn't open and get infected in the arena.

"Darling, come here," Rosemary allowed Vina to gently grab her hand and lead her to the couch so they could sit together. He forcibly intertwined their fingers and held her hands, staring into her brown eyes. "This is scary, Rosemary. I know it is. But if you don't calm down, you're not going to be able to help yourself or Rye in that arena."

Rosemary wrinkled her nose and sniffed. She knew he had a point, she really did need to calm down so she could survive today. She just wished she had spoken to Rye more about their plan rather than going for the Cornucopia and keeping each others' backs.

"Thank you," she breathed. Her nerves still ricocheted around her chest and down to her stomach, but she had purpose and she needed to focus on that. She couldn't help Rye if she was freaking out.

Vina simply smiled and squeezed her hands. "Why don't you drink more water?" He glanced at the windows of the aircraft and she followed his gaze, seeing shutters fall down over the glass panes. "We're close."

They didn't want her to see the arena. Instead, they would land deep underground and enter the catacombs of the arena. She would be herded into her own room where she could get ready with Vina. After that, it would be straight into the arena for the start of the Games.

The chamber that she would be getting ready in was pure white with two chairs and a table the exact same shade. There was a bathroom and there was a bowl filled with ice and cold water bottles. In the Capitol, Rosemary had heard them calling the chamber the Launch Room. In District 12, they called it the Stockyard. The name was fitting; a place where animals went before their slaughter.

Kline really liked that joke.

Either way, Rosemary would be the first and only Tribute to use the Stockyard. She didn't know whether the fact comforted her or disturbed her. It was probably more on the disturbing side, since they turned arenas into tourist attractions after the Games were over for the season.

She showered and brushed her teeth and let Vina fix her hair into two braids that he twisted to be pinned right against her head. It was a strong hairstyle that would take a lot of beating, just what she needed for the Games, where long hair was just another target to be aimed for. Thankfully, if she needed to undo it for any reason, she was familiar with braids and would be able to do so easily.

The clothes for the Games, the ones that every tribute would wear, arrived in a sleek black box via a Peacekeeper who popped his head into the room. Vina had absolutely no control over the outfit since they were picked out by the Gamemakers to match whatever climate the arena would feature. When Rosemary and Vina peeked into the box, they frowned.

First, the undergarments were simple underwear and a sports bra, ideal for how active she would be. Then the outfit got interesting. She was given long black leggings that clung to her legs like spandex but felt like fleece on the inside. Next was a long-sleeved black shirt, followed by a white padded jumpsuit that covered her whole body except her hands and feet, neck, and head. Thick socks and chunky white boots were added to her feet and black leather gloves, the tips of the fingers missing, were slid onto her hands.

The Games were going to be cold. It wasn't as bad as she would have thought. She was used to the cold during the winter months, having lived in District 12 which was in the other mountain range of Panem. At least it wasn't some tropical environment where they had to swim or something; she'd die for sure.

"It's going to be cold," Vina told her. His fingers brushed over her shoulders, where extra padding was buckled on the jumpsuit with light gray straps. Similar straps wrapped around her thighs and forearms but seemed to have no purpose. "They're afraid that something's gonna cause too many bruises."

Why would they care? She almost asked aloud until she realized that the Gamemakers didn't want them to all die due to "natural" causes. They wanted good old fashioned murder.

"The gloves will protect your palms," Vina pointed out gently. "But your fingers are exposed. Be careful you don't get frostbite."

"I won't, thank you," Rosemary whispered with a weak smile. Just as she thought she was done, he pulled out Kline's mockingjay pin. "Oh, I had almost forgotten."

"You gave it to me that first day. I had to get it approved as a token and due to the pin it was almost banned. Luckily, the pin's a bit dull and too short to do any damage."

"Do people try to sneak in weapons through their district tokens?"

"Oh, yes. That's why we have to process them now," Vina shook his head in disapproval, obviously not happy that children were forced to do horrendous things to simply survive. "Now, let me see..."

Vina pinned the mockingjay to her collar, which went almost to her chin. It was out of reach of anyone grabbing it, but it couldn't harm her by accident, either. She couldn't really see it, but she did feel the weight of it against her neck.

"Thank you."

Vina just smiled. "Come sit and drink water," he gestured to a chair by the table which held the water. She grabbed a cold bottle, uncapped it, and began to drink. "It'll start soon."

Rosemary focused on steadily drinking her water, trying not to go so fast so she wouldn't get brainfreeze. She emptied it and uncapped another.

A few moments later, a female's voice boomed from the speakers in the room, announcing that it was time to prepare to be launched into the arena.

Vina took her hand and led her over to the metal plate. "Now, I'm going to warn you, there is a small tube that is going to enclose you. You'll be in it for three seconds, tops, and then you'll be in the arena. "

Rosemary nodded and wished she hadn't drank all that water. She felt like she was going to vomit as she observed the clear tube that would come down around her. It was way smaller than any elevator or closet.

If the Hunger Games wasn't about murdering children, she would have thought that this was the worst part of the whole damn thing.

"Okay, here we go," Vina's hands steadied her shoulders as she stood on the metal plate, chin high in the air as she continued to watch the tube looming above her. "Remember what Haymitch told you, okay? Stick with Rye and find water."

Rosemary looked away from the tube and inhaled when she saw that Vina was staring at her intently. It made her eyes sting, she didn't want to say goodbye.

"Everything is going to be all right," he said, a sad smile on his face. "Rosemary, you and Rye are going to ignite a never-dying flame."

Though Vina's words seemed very important–and they were very touching–Rosemary didn't focus on them too much. She was able to blubber out her gratitude for everything that he and Larkin had done for her and Rye.

Vina chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Good luck."

Rosemary nodded and from above her, she heard a light buzzing. The glass tube started descending and if her heart wasn't already racing, she would have gotten lightheaded from how fast her heart would have kicked up.

She closed her eyes as the tube neared her head, so she didn't see Vina step away from her, a melancholy look on his face. Rosemary could feel the glass on both of her arms, could feel the heat of her breath reflecting back from the glass in front of her face. She could feel anxiety itching the back of her neck, around to her collarbones and down her whole body.

"Do not faint," she said aloud, firmly. "Don't you dare faint."

Then the metal plate she was standing on started to rise, leading her up the tube. Behind her closed eyes, she could see that around her was dark, and then three seconds later, she felt cold, brisk air hit her sweaty forehead and then surround the rest of her body. The glass surrounding her fell away and when she opened her eyes, she was blinded by pure white.

Then Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed throughout the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the 70th Hunger Games begin!"