(A/N: Hiya! Back with Chapter 3 where Cato is finally introduced, there will be more of him in the upcoming Chapters I promise. But for now, I hope you enjoy!)


Morning had arrived quickly, despite me being up for most of the night unable to rest. I managed to get a few hours' sleep but not enough to stop my eyelids from begging to close. But no matter how much they tried to stay shut, they were suddenly forced open by the stinging feeling which shot up my leg by a wax strip which sounded much like a match being struck. It was as painful as catching your finger in that match's flame too. I had to use all my willpower not to curse out or complain, a promise I'd made to Effie earlier today. My eyebrows had already been seen to – which I admit did need more attention than you would believe – but I had insisted that my legs were fine because I took care of the hair often back in District 7…apparently that still wasn't convincing enough for these perfectionists. By the end of all the waxing, I felt like a sore hairless cat with one less layer of skin. Now it appeared to be time for the prep team to begin cleaning my hair and make something of my nails.

"Quinten, come take a look at this. I think it's a new record for the amount of dirt found under a Tribute from District 7's nails!" The tallest and skinniest female in the group beckoned for the only male to approach and see the disaster of my cuticles for himself.

Quinten brushed his hands together and quickly made his way to inspect my apparently unsatisfactory nails. I raised an eyebrow, curious myself about how my nails could cause such a fuss. If anything I thought they would have pointed out the multiple splinters embedded in my palms; working with lumber doesn't come without a price. I let out a quiet sigh and decided to leave the two to their job and focus on the touch of the second woman combing through my tangled hair. I was beginning to think I may have made it easier if I had dried it after my shower on the train. I'd learned quickly that the female who called over Quinten went by the name of Ophelia and the female tackling my hair was named Sybil. They were all silent workers and if they ever did talk it was to complain about something to do with me. I decided it wasn't worth focusing on their chit chat so let my thoughts wander to what my near future may hold. Once I was separated from Memphis and taken to this location to meet my new prep team, I was shocked by the instant blunt demands for me to strip. But the shock didn't last long, I guess I've started to accept that I was being thrown into an arena to kill people of my age and that there was a possibility I would die. Being naked in front of three people for a few minutes wasn't worth fussing over.
It felt like hours until they were done destroying my body and recreating it to the Capitol's standard of perfection. My skin almost resembled marble, pale and polished, while my hair was reflecting the light around me which gave it a nice healthy shine. I don't think they'd even applied a gel to it, simply washed it indicating I hadn't been doing that good of a job myself. Silence settled in the room once the team left, but not before sending me their fancy Capitol waves and me mocking them back. Shots of the Capitol on TV made me despise it and now the people were giving me more reasons. I expected Effie to be the most unique of those here, but it turns out everyone was dressed in an almost identical way if not more eccentric. Rolling my eyes, I let out a short laugh while I swung my legs back and forth as the hung over the table. The Capitol was worse than I thought; both its fashion and its morals. Lifting a hand to my hair, I let my fingers glide through it and was surprised to not find a single knot. So I ruffled my hair, messing it up a little bit because that's just who I was. If the Capitol wanted to show me off, the audience would be shown Morgan Ashwood. Not some porcelain perfect puppet created by the group that brings Panem to its knees with a simple click of President Snow's fingers. Next thing I knew, a hand had grasped my wrist and gradually lowered it away from my hair, the owner giving me a look of disappointment. He didn't appear to be much older than me, but his pleated green scarf and patterned waistcoat with matching trousers told me he was undoubtedly from the Capitol.

"I expect Johanna has told you about your stylist?" Was the first question to leave his lips.

I nodded my head.

"She told me not to expect much. Said I'd be turned into a tree just like every other District 7 Tribute," I said coldly.

Unexpectedly he gave a laugh, leaving me to just watch in confusion. His laughter died down and a smile replaced his previous miserable frown.

"That stylist is long gone, darling. You're the first person I get to decorate for The Hunger Games! Forget being a tree, I'm going to turn you into a masterpiece," He took a small bow as I let myself relax.

Decorate. Made me sound anything but human. But I still trust him and I'm more than happy to know I won't be a sapling. And since he's new he must be full of new original ideas for outfits, ones never seen before. Hopefully they won't be inspired by anything citizens of his home dress in themselves.

"My name young lady, is Cyril if you were wondering. Now I've already selected a dress for your opening ceremony, your quarrel with the interviewer gave me a good idea of what I should make for someone with such a fiery and snappy personality. Plus, 'Ashwood' ties in well with this fresh twist on your theme," Cyril held his hand out to me, to assist me in getting down from the steel table that was starting to make my butt go numb from the cold.

With a genuine smile, I placed my hand in his with delight and let him guide me to our destination.


The time to get prepared for the opening ceremony comes quickly which I'm thankful for. I just wanted to get this part over with. At the moment, Cyril was adjusting the short trail made up entirely of healthy summer leaves constructed of a fabric that I wasn't familiar with, which led down from my bark brown, long sleeved and form fitting dress. I couldn't help but feel a little confused since this dress was the opposite of what Cyril had preached to me about earlier. While he was flattening my trail and making a few adjustments here and there, I was glancing down at myself anxiously, for I was basically a backwards tree. The dress' bodice being the trunk, and the trail the leaves. Yet each time I attempted to question him on his work, I was shushed and told to be patient. However, after I had pestered a few times, Cyril allowed me to stand in front of a mirror while he finished up, but it just made me feel more awkward and let down. Considering he was the first new stylist our District had had for many years, I had been somewhat excited deep down. I should have known better. Even my makeup followed the colours of my opening ceremony disaster. My eyes had been heavily coated in a brown eyeshadow which blended out into a green, and the only thing that I liked was the sharp winged liner which I'd always admired on others but never tried myself. The long lashes made my eyes feel sticky and they would be the first thing I would remove after today. My hair was my favourite part of my whole outfit; Cyril seemed to catch on my liking of it being left to craft its own style. He made sure it looked like it hadn't been touched and fell naturally down my front, but also added a few sprays and gels so it kept the new shine and stayed in its place. On top of my head sat a head band made up of glowing golden leaves, which stood out well against my jet black hair.

"Ok darling, we are done here," By the tone of Cyril's voice I could tell he was smiling.

I couldn't help but turn to look at him and give a nervous smile back, my eyes begging for an explanation. Maybe this was a joke or something? Maybe on your first year as a stylist it was a ritual that you had to make your first Tribute look silly? I doubted it, but the idea was bringing peace to my mind.

"I know I said plain trees were out and this is obviously confusing you a little, but don't worry. It's a surprise that I don't want you to know about before anyone else. I want to see what you truly think of it," Cyril smirked.

Ok, this definitely made me more nervous but the excitement and wonder was back.
Before I could pester Cyril anymore, I was escorted down to the room which held mine and Memphis' awaiting Chariot. Most (if not all) the Tributes had arrived before me, some chatting away while others were boarding their Chariots. I could feel my body begin to shake slightly as I forced myself to take slow steps to my designation. I mentally noted who each person was talking to, maybe it could give me an idea of who I could expect to see in an alliance. Of course the Careers had grouped together like a pack of wolves, wouldn't surprise me if they all slept in the same room each night leading up to the Games, wore identical clothes and ate the same foods as each other day after day. Something did seem odd though. There were only five of the Careers there, so I stopped in my tracks and tried to figure out who was missing. There was the girl Glimmer and her partner Marvel, chatting away to the two from District 4, but strangely Clove was alone and frequently surveying the room herself. It then clicked who was missing. How could I not notice the absence of the biggest, fierce looking, hot shot of District 2, Ca-

"You looking for me?" A low voice sounded from behind.

Luckily I was able to conceal the jump my body had almost done out of shock and turned around to meet the voice's owner. He was taller than I expected him to be, but there wasn't a large difference between his estimated 6'2 and my 5'9. Cato was also bigger; I could see every detail of his large arms as he stood before me in his golden armour. I just hoped I didn't get stuck fighting against him and only being able to use my fists, no doubt he had trained long and hard for the day he would volunteer. His eyes caught my attention just like they did the first time I saw them on screen, that mysterious blue that drew me in. Once I was done analysing him I blinked a few times to bring myself back to the situation and scowled.

"Don't flatter yourself. Just observing my competition…" I looked him up and down as I folded my arms. "…nothing special this year," I finished, smirking slightly as his fists clenched and jaw tightened.

It would appear that I had hurt his ego. Good. Though there was also a small red light flickering on and off in my brain like an alarm telling me that this could affect my survival in the arena. His next words took me by surprise.

"I like your dress, Morgan. I'll think back to it when I throw your crushed and bloody body into a tree in a few weeks,"

Pride radiated off him. But he didn't scare me, this could have all just been an act. No one even knew what the arena was going to be this year, and I hoped there would be no tree in sight just so I could remind him of this moment when I take him down. At the same time the brutality of the threat impressed me. For some strange reason I could feel my cheeks begin to heat up. I didn't know if there was an anger inside I wasn't consciously detecting or if it was because of the butterfly feeling in my stomach that this boy's smile gave me. In truth I'd never seen anyone like him, and no matter how much I didn't want to admit it, he was handsome. Just being aware of the redness made me go even redder with embarrassment. And it seemed Cato had noticed it too, indicated when he raised the back on his hand to rest gently on the hot spot of my face.

"Aww, the Princess of District 7 is blushing!" He teased, bending his knees slightly to come to my level so he could watch the colour get more intense.

Princess? I began to think of something to fire back but my juggled mind was providing me with nothing. My heart was beating faster as a few others turned their attention towards us. I wouldn't have had time to say anything anyway because he started patronising me again.

"That's cute, sweetheart. Don't hurt yourself out there," Cato stood to his true height after patting my cheek lightly and walking over to his team.

It took a few seconds for me to recover from what just happened. I glanced around once I was sure my face was drained of the crimson and was relieved to see everyone had turned back to their own business. Not wasting another minute, I sped over to Memphis who waited on our Chariot. My grip was tight on the Chariot's edge once I stepped up, furious that Cato had made me look like a weakling so easily in front of the others when I had been trying so hard to give the opposite impression. Relief flowed through me when the music boomed from outside. I was just about ready to push my encounter with Cato aside and get ready for the screaming crowd, when I saw him further up the Chariot line glancing back at me. It was hard to make out his expression from where I was, but I just made out a smirk, yet it didn't come across to me as hateful or teasing. In fact, I couldn't pin point what it came across as. He only looked forward again when I saw a hand flick out and smack his arm to gain his attention. 'Thank you, Clove'. Light flooded into the room when the large doors separated and one by one the Chariots holding us Tributes jerked forward and out into the open. At the start of the ride I was blinded by all the bright lights, needing time to adjust. I looked out of the corner of my eye at Memphis while he waved at the crowd, whose cheering of many names sounded like a made up language. He seemed to like the attention we were getting and didn't let his smile falter or hand fall once. I didn't raise a hand or throw a smile. Part of me was still annoyed about being shown up, and another part didn't want the Capitol to see me look happy about any of this. Was this anything to celebrate? Look at this year's Tributes! Soon, 23 of them will be dead, yahoo! What kind of sick people got entertainment out of this.

"Morgan, your dress!" I suddenly heard Memphis whisper into my ear.

Gasps from the crowd took over and sparked a curiosity in the other Tributes. My own face was in shock as I glared at the brown fabric which coated my arms, a thick black smoke rose from it in tendrils, from my wrists all the way up over my shoulders before it carried on down my body. It took its time to sweep over my full dress, but had eliminated any trace of the boring brown and in its tracks left a glittering and shimmering black as dark as my hair. I turned my head to carefully see the effect it had left on my trail that fluttered behind, and was amazed that to see the leaves were no longer green but had transformed to match the golden leaves of my head piece. Oh how I should have had more faith in Cyril! The crowd appeared to love this unexpected event, as the only words that were cheered were either mine and Memphis' names or our District number. Some onlookers had ever shed a few tears. I decided to stick to my decision of not waving, but lifted my chin slightly and smiled forward. How I hope the Tributes remember this moment and that this banishes away all previous assumptions that I wasn't strong competition. Our Chariot slowly came to a halt besides the others, eyes are forced to tear away from my beautiful reveal and focus on the man known as President Snow and the large TV screen hung above him. Not being able to help myself, I take a quick look over to District 2's Chariot to see how they reacted. And the reaction is just what I wanted. Cato's eyes were fixed on us, his chest rising and falling quicker than earlier and for a split second he looked more stunned than anyone else around. I think Cyril deserved an apology and a thanks for this. He did a better job than I ever imagined, even if many of the Tributes did look angered or intimidated by the display. Their opinions didn't provide as much satisfaction as Cato's expression did. I was very childish when it came to getting revenge, and it appeared to me that Cato was too. We'd only met once and in that very brief time, he managed to start some sort of war between us. I just decided to fight back. It became clear that he wasn't going to let this go when I focused hard on his moving lips, trying to catch what he was mouthing my way before I had to turn back to Snow. I was able to read his lips very clearly. They had said:
'Watch out, Princess'


(A/N: Ahhh and they've met and are already getting sassy! I hope you're liking the story so far, be sure to leave a review!)