Heart of Ice

Chapter 4

I walk off the stage, satisfied that I've sufficiently screwed up my interview enough to discourage sponsors or attentions. I mean, I stuttered, refused to look Caesar in the eye, and played with my necklace the whole time. If I haven't been marked for dead yet by the world, I have now.

My only concern is Willow. She has to watch me go through the Games like this, certain that I'll die. Will she be able to handle it, plus the pressure from friends at home? Or will she be freaking out, even though I'll be coming home soon?

Mora yells at me when we get back to the floor, and I take it in silence before storming off to my room. There isn't much that I can do to answer her.

In my room, I strip off the dress and throw it to the floor. Earrings tugged off, shoes kicked to the corner of the room. I shower and scrub the makeup from my face, undo the twists from my hair. The water is burning hot, but I revel in it. Acacia never let us have long hot showers at home. The attic's shower was fixed to a timer, primed to shut off after exactly four minutes of barely warm water. But here, it's endless.

I do get out of the shower eventually, ordering dinner from the walls of my room. I have no desire to put up with Mora tonight.

I eat until I'm full, and then some. It won't hurt to start the Games on a full stomach. Tomorrow morning, we begin.

It also wouldn't hurt to get more intel on my competitors. I turn on the television as I eat, watching the recaps of the interviews. Commentary on each tribute is supplied by the hosts, colorfully dressed women whose names are a mystery to me. I don't care, either, but it's their words I want. Predictions and theories about my competitors, ideas and guesses about the arena. I'll take what I can get. I'm perceived as a weakling, someone not to be bothered with. I'll probably kill myself off, they think, falling out of a tree (hilarious) or drowning. Good.

The next morning, Argentia comes to wake me. But I'm already awake, I've been for hours. I woke up hours earlier than planned. I know it wasn't fear keeping me awake. I'm confident in today. I'll make it to hear the anthem and see the faces in the sky tonight. And days after that, too.

Anticipation, then. I've been drinking coffee for awhile, and the caffeine will keep me going at least until I can find a safe hiding place in the arena.

"Let's go," she says solemnly, waiting as I change into a short white gown, not unlike one you'd see in a hospital. We walk to the roof, and a hovercraft awaits.

I guess I'll get my actual outfit later. And hopefully breakfast, too. The hovercraft ride is short, and a woman injects a tracker in my arm. It's to keep track of all the tributes' locations, and enable the Gamemakers to pit us against each other. I'm not sure how the hell that's any use to us, but it's the audience that matters.

I wonder if we could take out the trackers. But that would earn the ire of the Gamemakers, probably dooming ourselves shortly after.

I get to eat once Argentia has boarded, and the food is every bit as fancy as what I've had all week. I don't gorge myself, since it's harder to run on a full stomach. When we land, Argentia and I follow specific instructions to my Launch Room. Twenty-three other tributes are dressing nearby, and I'm guessing that we're in a circle around and below the Cornucopia.

The tube sits ominously in the corner. Soon, it seems to be saying. Screw you, I think back. I'm going to win this.

I shower and brush my teeth as Argentia opens the package with my clothes in it. A heavy jacket, pants, and snow boots. It's fairly obvious what the arena will be. I dress slowly in the outfit, starting with the long sleeve shirt and leggings before putting on the jacket and boots. Everything seems designed to reflect body-heat, and I'm sweating before Argentia even ties the boots. I guess that's why the room was so cold.

I test out the outfit, finding that I can move and run fairly easily. The jacket isn't as bulky as you'd think. With Capitol tech, even common sense goes out the window.

And soon enough, it's time to go. Argentia wishes me luck- I'll need it, she's thinking- and I step onto the tube as the glass encloses me. She waves one more time, and I wonder if the purple curls on her head have affected her brain.

The darkness doesn't last long. But the pitch black turns to blinding white as the cylinder clicks into place and the arena awaits.

AN: Hey! Sorry for another short chapter, but the next one will be pretty long. If you enjoyed it, please feel free to vote- or even better, comment!

The next chapter won't be up for awhile, but it's going to be long.