After a few more days of training (in which I talk to almost everyone headed for the arena) it's time for the individual training sessions.

Austin and I are sitting side by side in the waiting room, my thighs bouncing up and down. I watch as gradually, the room empties and it's just us left. Then Seeder goes and it's just us two.

"What are you gonna do?" I ask him, shaking. "Do you have any ideas?"

He shrugs. "None. I guess I'll just go in there and... wing it."

I sigh. "Same. You know... what you said last year still rings in my head."

"What did I say?" Austin frowns.

"About being more than a piece in their games. Even if I'm going to go down in these games, at least I'll die as me."

"You're not going to go down in these games," Austin tells me.

And then I do something I've not dared to do for months. I look into his eyes.

But when I do, I realise the truth.

Him and I both want the other saved. We've both accepted the fact that we're going to die, but we haven't given up hope on the other. He wants to save me. I want to save him. We've both asked Haymitch to let us die, and spare the other one.

The only question is; who is he going to double cross?

He promised me, I think. Haymitch promised me that he would save Austin. He has to.

I tear my gaze away from his eyes and decide not to address the situation at that moment. "I hope not."

"Austin Thatcher, District Twelve, report for individual assessment."

So then Austin goes, and I'm waiting, alone and silent in a room until I hear it again, but this time, with my name.

"Willow Hawthorne, District Twelve, report for individual assessment."

The intercom on the wall calls me, and I wearily get up. I have no concept of time in the arena or the tribute centre, but it must've been ten minutes.

I still have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do. They know I'm good at axes.
They saw me in the simulation a few days ago when all the other tributes turned their attention to it. And they probably know I know about the force field by now, too, since the whole room is bugged and my conversation with Beetee and Wiress wasn't exactly quiet.

I walk into the silent room, looking at the peacekeepers that man the door. I'm going to go to the axes, but then I see something on the ground. When I head over I see it's a painting. And when I see what it's of, my heart stops.

It's Rue, surrounded by flowers in the meadow. One look at it and I see the paint is still wet, which means it must have come from Austin.

I would've guessed that anyway.

I'm not aware that I'm crying until I feel one drip onto my shirt. I feel another drip from my eye, down my face, and then I hear him. Plutarch Heavensbee.

"Miss Hawthorne, you have ten minutes to present your chosen skill."

I turn around and see Plutarch Heavensbee, standing at the fore of the gallery where they watched from. I try to think every evil, foul thought about him that I can.

Have you any idea how much I hate you? You, who have forced the games upon us? Who put cruel, testing obstacles designed to kill us in our path? You, who sit in Snow's pocket, simpering up to him through fear of death?

Thunder crashes in my eyes as I spot a plastic dummy lying on one of the tables. I also see a long rope next to it. And some paints.

I grab the dummy and lie him on an empty table, then grab the paints and smirk cruelly as I use my fingers to paint the berry purple paint onto it. Finally, I tie a noose at the end of the rope and sling the dummy up, so that it hangs by its neck from the roof.

I bow low and leave without being dismissed, but I still hear the Gamemakers' shouts, cries and gasps as they read the name on the dummy's chest.

Տᗴᑎᗴᑕᗩ ᑕᖇᗩᑎᗴ

☘︎☘︎☘︎

It was the next evening and time for the interviews. I was just getting my makeup on by Cinna and Effie was giving me a mouthful.

She hadn't been very supportive of my stunt with Seneca Crane, and neither with Austin's painting of Rue. She had scolded both of us and waved her fan in our faces again.

But I had expected Haymitch to be different. I had expected the same reaction as last year. I had expected him to be proud, to be impressed. He was neither.

He hadn't liked the stunts we'd pulled. His face had been stony, his expression cold. He had never actually given us the reason for his annoyance, though.

Then Austin and I made history, both pulling twelves, the highest score, and also a record that had never been reached before. When I asked Haymitch why, he said it was so that the other tributes would target us.

Looking back on this, I slightly regret my idea, but I'm still, for the most part, proud of my initiative. I tune back in as Cinna takes me to my dress.

"It's... it's..." I'm at a loss for words. Before me is a huge white dress with silver additions that looked like wings somehow. "It's my wedding dress."

Cinna nods. "President Snow insisted, but I, made a few alterations."

I look over to the TV just to see Cashmere and Gloss (who had insisted on going together) on the screen. This time around, the interviews were done standing up, and the two of them stood together. I'm still trying to work out what their angle is.

"Now, you two made the games a family affair, you became everyone's brother and sister," Ceasar goes on, and on. "I just don't know how we're going to let you go."

I change into my dress as he passes the microphone to Gloss. "We're not going by choice. You are our family, and I don't see how anyone can love us better."

The audience claps and cheers and Cashmere starts crying. When Ceasar asks her what the matter is, she answers. "I'm- I'm sorry. I'm just so emotional..."

I roll my eyes. "God, does anybody actually believe this?"

"Apparently, everybody," Haymitch, who I notice has just come in. He points to a gaggle of Capitol women (including Effie) who all have hankies and are dabbing at their eyes.

"These victors are angry, Willow," Haymitch points out to me. "They'll say anything to try and stop the games. I suggest you do the same, too."

Oh, great. As well as having no idea what to say or do, I also have to try and put an end to the thing that's going to kill me.

Brutus and Enobaria get interviewed separately, but they both have a phony attitude about them. Wiress doesn't really leave a lasting impression on me, but Beetee has a different reaction.

"Beetee," Ceasar says, to the man that isn't playing along. "You have contributed so much to Panem over the years, I don't know who we're going to miss more; you or your brain."

He passes Beetee the microphone, and he speaks calmly and without any anger. "Well, the Quarter Quell was written into law by men, certainly it can be... unwritten."

I smirk as the crowd reacts in a stunned manner. "Yes. Interesting concept," Ceasar remarks, him too struggling to deal with the idea.

He soon moves on to Mags, who obviously can't speak and answers with a nod or shake of the head. Then-

"Finnick," Ceasar says with a smile as the crowd goes crazy for the man that at least half the women have slept with. "I believe that you have an important message for somebody out there, a special somebody. Can we hear it?"

He hands Finnick the microphone and he speaks into it lovingly. "My love... you have my heart. For all eternity. And if... if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips..."

At least twenty people have fainted presuming that he means them. I get pulled away by Cinna so I miss District Five and Six, so by the time I get back, Johanna Mason is on the screen.

"There have been a lot of tears here tonight," Ceasar clarifies. "But I see no tears in Johanna's eyes.Johanna, you are angry, am I correct?"

Johanna chuckles sarcastically. "Well, yes, Ceasar, I'm angry. The deal was that if I won the Hunger Games, I would get to live the rest of my life in peace. But now, you wanna kill me again."

She looks towards the crowd and starts yelling. "Well, you know what, FUCK THAT! I FUCK ANYONE, WHO HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT!"

"Alright then," Ceasar smiles. "One woman's opinion. Who's next?"

"Turn around," Cinna orders me, making me tear my eyes away from the Television as a man called Blight (the male from Seven) appears on the screen. My stylist looks me up and down then comes to the final conclusion. "Think I'm done."

"Will I be twirling tonight?" I ask, though I know I will.

"Save it for the end," Cinna nods.

"One minute is she ready?" Cinna steps aside to reveal Effie, who seems lost for words.

"Oh, Willow," she walks towards me, taking my hands in hers. "You would've made the most beautiful bride."

"Thank you," I look down.

"Let's go show them, what real beauty looks like," Effie assures me. I smile as she wipes away her tears.

We walk to the small behind the scenes area in which the victors wait in before going up behind the interviews. It had never happened before, but this year, we would stand behind Ceasar after he was finished, and be in the display.

"It has to go more up," she hisses to her 'idiot' stylist, pulling at her dress.

"Come, Willow, they're going to adore you, and there are a lot of sponsors in the audience so, of course, just be your usual self, actually be your happier self," Effie rambles on, sorting out my dress.

"A wedding dress? Seriously?" Johanna comments.

"Snow made me wear it," I take this to be a harmless comment, but by the way Johanna leans towards me, I could be revealing what Bonnie and Twill had said about District Thirteen.

"Well, make him pay for it," she says, before smirking and leaving swiftly.

"...From District Twelve, the Girl on Fire! Better known as Willow Hawthorne!" I hear Ceasar roar, and I start to walk forwards when I hear Effie signalling me to.

The audience claps and claps at the dress, until, finally, all falls silent and he can get on. "Willow Hawthorne! You look fabulous, doesn't she?"

This, of course, causes a whole new wave of nostalgia (and more clapping) to wash over the crowd. "My, my!" Ceasar shouts, quieting them again. "Now, Willow, this is a very big, and very emotional night for all of us, don't you think?"

I decide to be sarcastically flirty. "Well don't go crying on me now, Ceasar."

"I can't make any promises, you know me!" He bites back jokingly.

"Well you know I wouldn't believe you even if you did," I giggle.

The crowd makes a lot of noise. "Ah, I love it, the Girl on Fire is so cheeky!" Ceasar continues, then he lowers his voice and sounds more stern. "But, Willow, on a more serious note, I think we're all here that a little disappointed, more than a little disappointed, that a certain wedding did not take place, aren't we, folks?"

There's a burst of 'aws' from the crowd. "Alas," Ceasar shakes his head, then he turns towards me. "But, am I correct in assuming, that this is the gown that you would've worn on the day, yes or no?"

A pause. "Yes, President Snow thought everyone would want to see it."

"Well, President Snow, as usual, was right," Ceasar jokes. "Wasn't he, folks?!"

The crowd is getting more and more rowdy by the minute. "Would you do us the honour, please?" Ceasar asks me, and I know immediately what he's insinuating. He wants me to twirl.

And I do. I spin and spin until I can see that my dress is turning from a snowy white to a charcoal black. I can barely breathe. I spin more and suddenly, all the flames have engulfed me, making my dress entirely black.

In the crowd, I see Cinna motion to me to stretch my arms out, and I do. And when I do, I see wings under them.

Because Cinna has turned me into a mockingjay.