Cashmere whipped around, glaring at her fellow mentor. "Brutus," she seethed. "I thought you signed off from the Games after that blind girl died. You're so pathetic."
Brutus raised his eyebrows. "Cashmere, darling," he replied with a smile. "That girl was weak. It broke my heart, but I'm back this year. I'll get this District another victor."
Cashmere folded her arms over her chest, smirking. "Well, Gloss and I got Anarchy and Emerald. They're fighters. They will win for sure." Cashmere sounded confident, not a quiver in her steady voice.
"I don't believe it," Brutus replied. He turned around and stalked away, putting a hand over the boy from Two. He walked away, muttering something to him about 'trust' and 'Emerald or Anarchy'.
"Pathetic," Cashmere whispered to herself. Two could play at that game. As soon as her tributes swung both legs over the chariot sides, she took their arms. "You can never trust Two. They're out to get you, believe me." Anarchy and Emerald nodded, sweeping glances back at the brutish District Two tributes.
"But they're too strong!" Anarchy complained to Cashmere at dinner, several nights later. "That boy sent a spear through a metal dummy in the training center! They both got elevens!"
Cashmere set her jaw and stared down the table. "You're strong too. Just trick them, for hell's sake. You can do it." Anarchy mumbled something, cursing Cashmere under his breath.
"Even if we did kill them, though," Emerald reasoned, "wouldn't the tributes from Four turn on us?" Anarchy shot a glance at Emerald, as if challenging Cashmere. Gloss cocked his head inquisitively.
Cashmere rolled her eyes. "They're terrible. They miss every time. Don't worry." Her smooth reply was convincing. A moment passed before anyone spoke. "If you don't try to kill them tomorrow morning, you won't get sponsor gifts," Cashmere said sternly. "Go to bed. You need your rest." After the tributes left, Cashmere called out to them, "May the odds be ever in your favor!"
Cashmere was practically native to the Capitol. She adored it there, and to her, the Games were just a simple little pageant; as easy to win as a thumb war or a silent contest. Cashmere seemed to complain about the most trivial things, but yet she was steadfast and she had beliefs. They weren't just the petty whims that came and went in the Capitol.
Cashmere wanted to hold on to anything she believed in. Were Brutus and Enobaria just a pair of simple pageant contestants? Gloss turned to Cashmere, who was tapping her fingers on the table as if waiting for someone who ran late. Gloss stepped away from the table, rolling his eyes at Cashmere. "Damn you. Who are you to drill hatred and regret into their heads?"
It was Cashmere's turn to roll her eyes. "They already volunteered, Gloss! And Brutus has it out for us, so why not tell them to fight back?" Cashmere turned from the table and stalked away. She seemed indignant but confident.
Ten o'clock. Up went the podiums. Down went the spirits and the confidence. Everyone held their breath for seconds. Counting. Counting blessings, counting the people who loved them. Counting the seconds.
A long sound rang from out of nowhere. The havoc began. Blood leaked out across the ground. Blades glinted in the sunlight. Every step thundered on the ground. Screams rose from the ground and haunted the survivors.
There were fourteen still living. They all dispersed across the grassland. Emerald lay with a spear in her chest. Anarchy's neck had a gaping hole filled with blood.
The last scream that night came from Emerald. There were tears in her eyes before the spear hit her. A split second is enough to change a decision. Emerald had made her decision. It was worth it to volunteer. Every second of it. Emerald believed in what she had done.
And so had Cashmere.