The doors to the training room slammed closed behind me; shutting out the sound of the blond boys laughter. The silence in the black tiled corridor seemed eerie after the chaotic noise of the training room. I stopped running after just a few steps and took deep, shuddering breaths, biting down hard on my lip to prevent a sob escaping from my throat. My mouth filled with the sickly sweet, metallic taste of blood.

I blinked angrily and roughly wiped the tears from my face with my sleeve, furious with myself for losing control. For showing weakness. I turned to face the black metal doors again and imagined myself throwing them open and striding defiantly back inside, but then that image was replaced by an image of the blond boys smirking face. I couldn't bear to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd made me cry. So instead I turned away and wandered off along the labyrinthine corridors of Fortis.

I'd only entered Fortis for the very first time the previous evening, so I had no idea where I was going. All the corridors looked the same: floor to ceiling black tiles so shiny they could be mirrors, a single long thin white light along the length of the ceiling, huge metal doors at sporadic intervals. Eventually I turned a corner and entered a corridor punctuated with windows looking out over the field where the eighth years do most of their training. The field is surrounded by an 8 foot high electric fence, to prevent anyone coming close and seeing what's going on in the field. The Capitol are happy to turn a blind eye to children being trained for the Hunger Games at Fortis even though it's officially the training facility for Peacekeepers, as long as we at least pretend to hide what we're doing there. The village children used to play a game with the fence; they'd see who could get closest to it and catch a glimpse of the eighth years training. Then a boy named Tibby got electrocuted, and the fence was put under constant surveillance. It's now guarded by Peacekeepers, and anyone caught near it faces being publicly whipped outside the Justice Building. That's if you're lucky.

I peered out and of the window and watched entranced as the eighth years trained. They were lethal; their spears an extension of their arms, movements swift and precise, attacking each other mercilessly. I forgot to breathe as a dark haired girl wrenched a spear from her opponents hand with so much force the spear snapped in two, then fast as lightning flicked her spear up to her opponents neck. For a moment I was sure she'll kill the other girl, but then they both laughed and shook hands and the dark haired girl walked off in search of a new opponent, tossing her glossy hair back over her shoulders.

'Hey.'

I jumped a mile; I'd been so absorbed in watching the eighth years I didn't hear whoever it was approaching. I turned and found that the speaker was a girl; tall, with silvery blonde hair tied back in a fishtail plait, dressed in tight black trousers, a black vest top and black leather boots. She was obviously an eighth year. She stood with her arms crossed and raised her eyebrows at me.

'What are you doing?'

'Nothing.' I snapped, turning back to the window. The girl came to stand next to me, resting her elbows on the windowsill.

'Yep, that's what it looks like. Why aren't you in training?'

I didn't reply. Her question brought back the humiliation I'd temporarily managed to forget, and to my horror I suddenly felt like I was about to cry again.

The girl looked at me for a moment. 'See them?' she said, jerking her head towards the window.

I nodded.

'You want to be as good as they are, don't you?'

'Yes. More than anything.' My words came out more forcefully than I had intended.

'Then why aren't you in training?'

I kept silent. She sighed.

'You're not going to learn to fight like that overnight you know. Hell, when I first came here I couldn't tell one end of a spear from another. It takes years of practice. Hundreds of defeats. Each time you lose a fight you'll learn how to win the next one. Eventually, you'll be invincible. But not if you skip training.'

I looked down at my slim, freckled hands and whisper 'I can't go back to training.'

The girl looked closely at me, taking in my red rimmed eyes and spiky eyelashes.

'What's your name?' she asked more gently.

'Clove.' I sniffed.

'I'm Aurelia. Want to tell me what's up?'

'No. Nothings up. Why are you being so nice anyway?'

She turned away from me and looked out the window.

'I thought maybe you could use a friend.'

'You thought wrong. I don't need friends.'

'We can be enemies if you like?' she grinned.

Despite myself I felt a grin creeping across my face.

'Fine. We're enemies.'

She laughed. 'Get back to training, Clove.'

'I don't know the way.' I said in a small voice.

'No problem. Come on, I'll show you the way.'

She turned and started walking back down the corridor, but I remained by the window for a moment. The dark haired girl was fighting another opponent, a boy slightly smaller than her. She kicked him to the ground then drove her spear into the grass merely an inch from his neck.

'Clove! Stay with me!' Aurelia called over her shoulder.

I tore myself away from the window and ran after her.