Author's Note: So here's Chapter 1! I know it's long & I'm sorry about that, but I had a lot of descriptions to do. Please let me know what you think in the reviews and enjoy the story!

Though she had never held one before, this knife felt so right in Clove's dainty hand. Her fingers wrapped around the handle tightly, almost turning white. She took in all the features of the weapon- its weight, its slight curvature, its perfectly smooth blade that ended in a deadly point. It was so different than the sticks and twigs Clove had always thrown to defend herself, but at the same time, was exactly the same.

"Go on sweetheart, throw it," her father quietly urged her from behind her. "Show her what you can do."

Clove looked back at her father, immediately seeing the desperation in his eyes. She looked back at the grey-haired woman watching her with an angry expression and knew she was the cause of her father's distress. Enraged, she hurled the small dagger at the target set in front of her. It zoomed from her hand, striking the target on the line drawn to indicate the bulls-eye. Almost perfect.

A sigh- a sigh of relief, Clove hoped- escaped her father's lips. Her mother, watching Clove with complete focus, murmured something to the grey-haired woman. The woman seemed to ignore Clove's mother and coldly said, "Another."

Her father nudged her shoulder, presenting her with another knife. It had the same look and feel as the first one. She let out a quiet breath and relaxed her shoulders as she had done a thousand times before. Her arm curled back and sent the dagger flying at the target. It ended up just barely closer to the center of the target than the first one had. "More focus, more accuracy," her father reminded her, almost speaking in a whisper.

The grey-haired woman was completely expressionless. Clove's mother only looked to the woman now, not bothering to share her unwanted opinion. "Another," The woman said just as she had before.

Clove looked to her father for an explanation, but was only handed another knife. It was identical to the two she had just thrown. Clove prepared to throw it, but closed her eyes in a mix of fear and hope before it left her fingers. She heard it lodge itself in the target and before she opened her eyes to see her results, her father whispered, "You did it, Clover."

The knife was sticking out of the center of the bulls-eye. Perfect.

Clove looked at her mother for assurance that she had done well, but her mother was wiping away tears. She knew what that meant.

Suddenly, she was being pulled out of the gym and away from her parents. She did not scream or cry, like her parents had requested, but simply closed her eyes as she was lead through a hall and eventually into a small room.

The large metal door slammed quickly behind her and she was alone. The one room, while small, was still about the size of half of her entire house. Or, she remembered, what used to be her house. This training center was to be her new home.

Clove sat silently on the bed that had been pushed up against the wall. The bed was one of three pieces of furniture in the room; next to the bed sat a small nightstand and across from the bed stood a small wooden chair. There was a barred window on the wall facing the door. Clove walked to the window and was surprised to look down on a large courtyard. About fourteen or so teenagers were engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a partner, mercilessly throwing each other onto the cold, stone floor of the courtyard. Clove winced when one boy hit the ground and blood splattered from a gash on his forehead.

The door creaked open and Clove whipped around to find the grey-haired woman entering her room. Following the woman was a blonde boy that Clove could not take her eyes off of. It was Cato, a boy she had known in school. He was a year ahead of her so he had left school last year to begin his training. Clove had not seen him for a year, and he was almost unrecognizable- his muscles had grown immensely, he had gained about six inches, and the smile he always had on his face was completely gone, replaced with a scowl. His eyes, a stunningly bright blue with long, dark lashes bordering them, remained unchanged and beautiful. They were the only reason Clove could identify him.

The woman turned to close the door after Cato had entered. Slowly, she crossed the room and sat in the wooden chair. Cato followed and stood on her right, arms crossed. "Clove," The woman began in a calm but menacing voice, "I am Crevia. This is my training center. I suppose you know why you are here."

"I do," Clove responded monotonously, refusing to show any of the fear or sadness eating away at her heart.

"You have promise, Clove," Crevia stated simply. "I believe that with training and my personal guidance, you will become unstoppable."

The thought of entering the Games frightened Clove, but the thought of being a victor made her feel empowered. A mischievous grin formed on Clove's lips. As soon as she saw it, Crevia knew she had found a future victor.

"This is my grandson, Cato," Crevia continued. She motioned towards the blonde boy who gave Clove a small nod. "He will show you around the center and be your training partner on most occasions. You will also have your meals with Cato and me, unlike the other students."

"Why?" Clove blurted out before thinking.

"Because, Clove," Crevia said as she stood, "You're not like the others here. Like Cato, you're promising. I am personally going to make you into a victor." Clove was surprised at her honesty, but also relieved Crevia had taken such a liking to her. That would make the next few years much easier. Crevia headed for the door as she said, "I will explain everything else tonight at dinner. You will be collected in half an hour to come eat with us." The woman began to open the door when she noticed something the young girl was wearing. "What is that around your neck?"

Clove instinctively reached up and grabbed the small silver charm dangling from her neck. "It's a clover. My parents gave it to me because that's what they call me. Because a clover is good luck." She felt her explanation had sounded a little too defensive.

"No, a clover is weak. It's a stupid little weed," Crevia spat at her. She stuck her hand towards Clove. "Give it to me."

Clove's heart shattered. It was everything she had left of her parents, parents she would see again only if she first wins the Games in six years. But, she also needed Crevia to like her if she hopes to be trained well. If she wants to have a chance of being a victor.

Clove barely had enough will-power to lift her arms and undo the clasp of her necklace. She lightly placed it in Crevia's hand, knowing she'd never see it again.

Later that night, Clove was mulling over the events of the day while lying in her extremely uncomfortable bed. Dinner with Crevia and Cato had gone well, and Clove believed the woman was truly interested in her. The rules of the center were simple, and Clove felt that she would go very far in her training.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a forceful knock on her door. She raced to the door, expecting Crevia. She instead came face-to-face with Cato.

"Don't ever say anything about this, you understand?" he barked at her as he shoved a small pouch at her. Clove took the pouch and began to respond but Cato was already hurrying down the hall.

Immediately, she closed the door and leaped onto her bed. She undid the twine holding the pouch closed and dumped its contents onto her bed. There, sparkling in the moonlight coming through the window, was the necklace Crevia had confiscated earlier.

"I understand," Clove whispered as she tucked the necklace back into the pouch. She quietly opened the drawer on her nightstand and hid the pouch inside.

For the first time in a long while, happiness filled her heart. Ready to sleep, she laid down on the thin mattress. She then vowed to one day do anything she had to do to win the Games.

"I will win, and I will see my parents again. I will win for them," Clove whispered as sleep slowly turned her world dark.