You can get on with the actual story in a minute but I just want to say thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - it's nice to have people talking to me again and I'd love it if you did the same for this one :)

So...is it stupid to be nervous about posting a chapter? This is the first time I've created my own arena and I'm hoping people don't hate it ;)

Chapter Ten

It didn't take very long to reach the arena. I thought it would take a long time, as every year, no matter what the arena looks like, it always looks so very different from the world I know. However my Hunger Games reality was very different. It actually felt like as soon as Felix and I were lifted up to the hovercraft from the Training Centre roof, they were lowering us down into the underground Launch Room so I could prepare for the Games to begin.

I rub the still painful spot on my arm where the man on the hovercraft injected my tracker, scowling at the small red mark that mars my pale skin before looking up at Felix for what feels like the hundredth time since we got here. I'm glad it's him. I'm glad he's the last person I will see before I have to face the arena. He hasn't said a lot, but his presence is comforting, and I'm so relieved I'm not alone.

"I should get this over with then," I say eventually, pushing away my untouched plate of food. "I hope it's not too cold in there."

Then I laugh humourlessly in response to my own words. What does that matter? I don't think I'll be giving the temperature much thought when I'm fighting for my life, and though I still don't regret my decision to race for the stage on that day in the square, a day which feels so very long ago and so very recent at the same time, I can feel my heart racing. The fear I feel inside now I am finally here is so much greater than I ever dreamed it would be. I wonder if Sapphire felt the same this time last year? She always seemed so fearless, but then apparently to many people, so do I, and I can say with total certainty that even if I would never admit it to anyone, inside I am afraid.

More to distract my mind and occupy my hands than for any deeper reason, I reach down onto the table and lift the pile of plain black fabric from its centre. I slowly unfold it and then look questioningly over at my stylist.

"What's this?" I ask, staring down at the simple black sleeveless top and matching trousers that now lie across my lap.

"Your clothes for the arena. It's time for you to change now."

"I would ask you who designed them but I don't think design is really something that mattered all that much to whoever created these," I reply petulantly, disappointed that the clothes reveal nothing about the arena. "And black really isn't my colour," I continue, trying to joke about a situation that isn't at all funny.

As ever, Felix seems to see right through what I'm doing, I can tell by the look in his eyes, but he doesn't comment.

"You'll be wearing your Victory Ceremony outfit soon, Cashmere. I've never designed better."

I smile, grateful for his vote of confidence, and then immediately scoop the thin cotton fabric up as I head to the bathroom before my emotions get the better of me. I quickly shower and dress before standing to stare at my reflection in the mirror. I carefully pull my hair away from my face, tying it tightly back, but a second later I take it down again so my golden curls frame my face and cascade down over my shoulders once more. They have to still see the girl in the sparkling red dress when they look at the one who stands at the Cornucopia dressed in black. That is what will save me. That might be the only thing that can save me.

"Cashmere, are you ready?" calls Felix from the other side of the door.

"Not really," I whisper under my breath as I reach down to pull on the soft, calf-length leather boots I had picked up at the same time as my clothes. I take a step forwards and the soles scrape slightly on the hard stone floor.

"Cashmere?"

"Yes, I'm coming out now," I reply as I raise the sapphire pendant to my lips before running my fingers through my hair and turning away from the mirror for the last time.

I open the door to face Felix just as the announcement booms out across the room, telling us to prepare for launch. He looks like he hasn't slept for days.

"Still beautiful, I see," he says, smiling almost grimly, like he is the one going into the arena instead of me.

"I'm counting on it," I reply just as grimly as I cross the room to stand on the metal plate that will shortly raise me up into the arena.

We stare at each other in silence until the plate begins to rise up. Then he suddenly reaches for my hand, squeezing it tightly until the clear cylinder which surrounds the platform cuts us off from each other.

"I saw him on the roof before we left. He said to tell you to never forget that the sun always shines," he calls out just as he vanishes from sight.

I close my eyes as the platform keeps rising, trying to stop myself from getting dizzy. It seems to take forever, making me think that I must have been a lot deeper underground than I thought. The sun always shines? What does that mean? Why would I think it wouldn't? Why would I think about it at all?

Then I open my eyes and see the arena. At that moment I understand exactly what his words meant.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the Sixty-sixth Hunger Games begin!"

Claudius Templesmith's voice booms out as soon as our metal plates click into place, signalling the beginning of the sixty second countdown to the start of the Games. I'm not thinking about that though. I can't think about that when all I can think about is the room I'm standing in. It looks like a place taken straight out of my worst nightmares, and what little part of me which is still capable of rational thought soon realises I am trembling on my platform, most likely looking nothing like the fearless volunteer everyone thinks I am.

The first thing I notice explains Falco's words perfectly, for it is clear that while I am trapped in here, I will have no idea if the sun still exists, never mind if it's shining. There are no windows, no visible daylight at all, just a small number of ancient-looking artificial lights which hang sinisterly down from the ceiling. They swing slowly back and forth even though there isn't even the vaguest hint of a breeze in the vast room.

The air is damp and stale, humid in a way that's making the thin cotton of my top cling to my skin before the battle has even started. I pull at it before I realise what I'm doing and drop my arms quickly back to my sides. I'm going to look a mess after less than a day in here, and it isn't solely my vanity that feels worried because of that particular realisation. If I look a mess then how many people are going to want to sponsor me?

I look around the room, taking deep breaths and trying to slow my movements so the others don't see my fear, though how successful I am, I couldn't say. For a second I consider that this room could be the whole arena, but then I soon realise that it can't be. If it was then there would be nowhere for people to hide, nowhere to run. The Games would be over very quickly and where would be the fun in that for the watching audience?

I jump as the silence is broken by an almost deafening scraping noise that is quickly followed by an equally loud crash that echoes around the room. When I look around at the part of the circle of tributes I can see, I notice the young girl who I think is from District Eight struggling to regain the balance the shock made her nearly lose so she doesn't fall and activate the mines that surround her platform. She just manages it, then quickly turns to face the direction the noise came from. It came from outside the room, confirming to me that there is more arena out there than just this.

Last night, as I lay curled up against Falco on the sofa in the Training Centre, half awake and half asleep, I thought I had finally reached the decision that I was going to abandon the others and attempt to fend for myself in the arena. Now I've seen the place, I'm nowhere near as confident or certain as I was. I've never liked enclosed spaces, and I hate it here already. The thought of being alone in the bleak almost-darkness fills me with dread, and as the panic rises up inside me, I don't think I can do it. I would rather take my chances with Dahlia than wait to die a slow and painful death when my luck finally runs out with the traps I imagine are bound to be concealed in the dark corners of an arena like this.

'You have to do this, Cashmere,' I tell myself frantically. 'You have the sponsors, you can't take the risk of staying with the others no matter what tradition tells you.'

I stare straight ahead at the golden Cornucopia. I can't really miss it when it takes up half the room, a massive structure surrounded by a floor made of the same cold, hard stone as the Launch Room. There are small pools of filthy-looking water all around, and now the awful scraping has stopped, I can hear it dripping as it trickles down the metal walls. Refocusing on the Cornucopia, I can see supplies inside, but the first thing I think is that there doesn't seem to be as much as there has been in previous years. I hope that's just my panic talking.

It must be nearing the time when they will sound the gong that signals the start of the Games, but I still can't make up my mind. Should I run or should I fight? I don't know what to do, and I'm running out of time to think. I look frantically from side to side once again, and I can see only couple of doors leading off the main room, two sheets of slightly darker metal, their small silver handles the only feature which makes them stand out. They are both firmly closed, and I can't stand the thought of not knowing what lies behind them before I open them. That is assuming I can get through them in the first place. If I run for one of them straight away then there is every chance I will find myself cornered and unarmed before I even know what's happened. I need a weapon or I'll have no chance, but all of the weapons are inside the Cornucopia, and that means I have no choice but to stay.

I look to my left and see Davena, her face as expressionless as it was at the start of her interview as she stares blankly at the side of the golden horn. She looks tall and strong, her lack of training in no way detracting from that even though I doubt she would be capable of defeating me if we fought. She will kill to get back to her family, that is one thing about the girl from District Seven that I have never doubted.

Turning away from Davena, I look to my right to see a tribute I barely recognise. I think he's from District Five but that is as much as I remember and I quickly look past him, my eyes drawn to Corvinus. He stands a couple of tributes further away, appearing as fiercely intimidating as ever, the many scars that cover his arms showing clearly despite the dim and flickering light. He towers over the girl from District Three, who is visibly trembling with fear, her head spinning rapidly from side to side as she looks for a way out that will never appear. My ally from District Two's eyes meet mine for a split second and then we both look away.

I look for the rest of the Alliance, and soon see Sheen, who stands on the podium next to Corvinus. The harsh, cold expression I saw so briefly on his face that night when he found Falco and I in the dining room and discovered I'd left the Training Centre has reappeared. He looks like a different person, and something about that expression makes me shiver at the sight of him.

I can see Octavian but not Marcia, and when I look for Dahlia, I find I can't see her either. She must be on the other side of the tribute circle, hidden from my sight by the massive Cornucopia. I am trying to decide if that is a good or a bad thing when my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the starting gong, which echoes around the room as the chaos begins.

Which way should I go? Forwards or back? Left or right? I don't know. I can't think. Already I can hear tributes shouting and screaming, the sound of madly racing feet filling my mind. 'Think, Cashmere, think. You have to move.' But which way? 'Any way,' I tell myself. 'Any way that leads to me having a sword in my hand.'

That can only mean the Cornucopia so I dive off my platform, sprinting forwards like my life depends on it. My life does depend on it. I reach the entrance to the golden horn at the same time as Corvinus, a fraction of a second after Sheen, who had raced for the sword he now carries like a man possessed. I look up as my hand tightens over the hilt of a sword identical to the one I used in training, and the first thing I see is my district partner sinking his blade into the girl from District Eight as she tries desperately to flee the carnage. I stare at him as he jerks his arm back as she falls to the ground. He killed her. Just like that. My immaturely arrogant counterpart ended her life with less emotion than I have when I'm choosing a new outfit at the shops. The skilful precision in his movement is a complete contrast to the hot-headed impulsiveness I recall from training, and the terrible blank expression on his face never changes. And if he fooled me then how much else of what I believe to be true is a lie?

"Do you have a death wish, District One? Move!"

Corvinus taps my back sharply with the flat side of his blade before striding calmly into the battle that rages all around us, and I glance at him before my eyes are subconsciously drawn back to Sheen. I am watching him charge after his next target when I suddenly realise the hurried footsteps I can hear above everything else are that loud because they are coming towards me. I turn around just in time to see another tribute racing towards me.

I raise my sword without thinking, and I slash it across his neck in one swift movement. Only as he sinks to the ground do I look at his face. District Twelve. He never had a chance, the stupid boy. What did he think he was doing? He didn't even try to block my attack, he was never going to survive, and yet he charged in anyway.

The fighting continues then, and for most of the time I blindly attack anyone who comes near me. Remembering the single most rational thing Topaz ever said to me, which was his instruction not to fight District Two during the bloodbath in case we're so distracted that another tribute comes along and kills us all while we are trying to defeat each other, I stay away from Dahlia, who doesn't seem to have found any knives but is more than making do with a sword that looks very similar to mine. It isn't that hard to avoid Corvinus either, for even when I let go of all other thoughts and let the screams of the dying fill my mind and drown out my other senses, he is still the tallest and strongest tribute in the room and I somehow still recognise him.

It feels like I am fighting forever, driving my sword forwards and pulling it back, twisting one way and then jumping another less than a second later. I don't care what any of the people who have trained me in the past said, this is nothing like what I used to do at home. Nothing I did there came close to preparing me for the exhausting reality that is the first battle of the Hunger Games.

As far as I know, I don't kill again, but I can't be sure. When a few seconds pass without me having to meet the challenge of a new opponent, I look up and see Corvinus drive a dagger deep into the heart of the boy from District Five, the one who was standing on the podium next to me only a short time ago. The boy crumples to the floor, dying instantly before his killer even has time to pull his hand back. I hadn't thought Corvinus was the type to derive pleasure from torturing his victims and it seems, from what I saw there anyway, that I was right. Dahlia isn't the same though, and the screams of the girl lying at her feet continue for a long, long time before she finally falls silent.

Then as quickly as it started, it's all over. There is nobody left standing who isn't part of the Alliance, and I can count at least six dead tributes lying on the floor around the Cornucopia. It's the same every year, there are always some who think they can fight those they call the Careers for the supplies the golden horn contains. Every year, all but a very small few are wrong, and they fall before they even get near to what they risk their lives to reach.

I shake my head slightly as I see the familiar figure of the man from District Seven slumped against the side of the Cornucopia. I don't understand why he stayed. He was strong, he should have ran and come back to fight later. Then he might have had a chance. I shake my head again when I notice the direction of my thoughts. I should be glad he acted so foolishly, for he's made it one less opponent for me to defeat, and I am glad, but for the first time I also see the loss of his life for what it really is. He seemed like a good person. For a brief second, I can't help thinking that he didn't deserve his fate.

I sense somebody else coming towards me and I instinctively raise my sword again. When is this all going to end? When will the fighting stop? It doesn't look like this on the television. It all seems to be over so quickly then. In reality it feels like all eternity and it doesn't let up for a second.

"District One, it's over. District One, stop!"

I vaguely recognise Corvinus's voice but I don't trust my ears. I lunge forwards and hear the clash of metal upon metal as my sword meets another. As much as I try to resist, I'm pushed back. I have no strength left. I can't keep fighting. Is this it? Am I going to break the promise I made to Gloss on only the first day of the Games?

"District One! Cashmere! Cashmere, stop!"

Corvinus's words are a command, and when he says my name they finally register. My eyes snap back into focus and I look up into his dark eyes, backing away without lowering my sword, remembering Falco's words and not allowing myself to trust. He smirks at me, his expression no different to the one I saw in training, and casually throws his blade from one hand to the other as if testing it's weight.

"It's not time for us to be enemies yet," he says before turning away to look at the others, who stand in a loose circle in the space around the entrance to the Cornucopia.

I nod and do the same. Everyone looks at each other but nobody says a word. All I can hear is the strange clicking of the wall mounted lights, which I didn't even notice before the bloodbath started, and the steady incessant dripping of the water as it trickles down the walls to form yet more pools on the floor. The wall lights aren't nearly enough to illuminate the damp, dark and totally windowless room even with the ceiling lights that continue to sway backwards and forwards like metronomes.

Then I hear something else, and it's coming from the small figure who is huddled in the corner, barely visible in the shadows. I see her a fraction of a second before Dahlia does, and we start walking towards her at the same time.

"Please…don't. Please… I don't want to die. Just let me go home," pleads the girl shakily as I come to a standstill in front of her. She scrambles back even though there is nowhere for her to go.

"I can't let you live."

I don't recognise her. All I can see is how small she is, how very, very young. I look down at this little girl, who is alternating between begging me for something I can never give and crying out for her father to save her, and even though I know I have no choice but to kill her, I know then that I really don't want to. As I watch her trembling at my feet, the truth about what I'm doing here truly hits me for the first time. As I also realise there will be no going back now, not after what I have already done in this place, I find that the little girl isn't the only one who wants to go home.

"Have you found another one, District One?" asks Dahlia harshly, her voice so cold it makes me shiver. "Let me see her then. I'm sure the Capitol will enjoy a good show and if the noise she's making already is anything to go by then I'm sure she'll keep everyone entertained."

The girl doesn't even attempt to conceal her blind terror, and she pushes herself against the wall, her screams echoing around the vast room. I look at her but she doesn't see me. I don't think she can see anything anymore.

Dahlia's cruel words help me make the decision I really didn't want to face, and I quickly raise my sword once more. I drive it straight into the girl's heart before her mind even registers my movement and she slumps to the floor instantly. I don't have time to think about what I've done, because Dahlia swings her sword at me and I have to spin around to block her.

"If I can't have my fun with her then you're just as good. Better, actually," snarls my enemy. "You won't look so good when I'm through with you."

My eyes don't leave hers, our weapons locked together as I snarl right back at her.

"I'd bet the value of the entire Remake Centre that I'd still look more attractive than you, Dahlia."

She growls at me and jumps forward, moving quicker than I thought possible. I just manage to bring my sword around in time to block hers, but as our blades clash I feel a sharp pain in my upper arm. I hear someone yelp with pain and a second later I realise the person who made the noise was me.

Dahlia steps away before circling steadily around me as she prepares to attack again. I see she now has a knife in her other hand and that it is red with blood. I didn't see her reach for it. I don't see how she could have done. She's even more skilled than I thought, and I wonder, not for the first time, exactly how they are trained in District Two and by whom. But that isn't the point. It doesn't matter. It was always going to end like this between the two of us, and if it has to be now then I won't give in as easily as she obviously thinks I will.

She charges towards me and I step forwards to meet her, trying not to imagine the look that will surely be on Gloss's face as he watches this, the fear he must feel that last year is happening all over again. Then we both skid to a halt in response to a loud crash that fills the room.

"I thought the whole point of an alliance was that we don't fight each other until the rest are dead."

I look over to the entrance of the Cornucopia to see Sheen standing there with the huge axe he just threw to the floor to make the noise that stopped our fight lying at his feet. He is loading a belt he has obviously also found with as many weapons as he can, giving no indication that the massacre which still surrounds us affected him at all. The look on his face is different again. It isn't the look of the boy I remember from the Capitol, and it isn't even that of the one who was concentrating so intently as he waited for the Games to start. When I look into his eyes, it's like there is nothing there.

"That's seven…no, eight down and…fifteen to go then," he says casually, scanning the room and counting the fallen tributes.

"Too many got away from us," adds Dahlia as she also scans the room, looking more like she is assessing the number of weapons the Gamemakers have left us than like she is paying attention to the dead. Then she shrugs her shoulders before fastening a belt around her waist and threading her sword through it. "It doesn't matter though. It just means we get to hunt them down."

"Starting now?" asks my district partner, nodding towards the nearest door.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," replies Marcia. "We need to work out what we're going to do with the supplies first."

I look at the tall dark-haired girl from District Four, noticing how she is backing away from Sheen towards the weapons which are piled up just inside the Cornucopia even as she speaks. She's as surprised by the change in him as I am and I can tell she doesn't know how he will react to her suggestion. I'm glad she said it though, because if she hadn't then I would have had to. She's right about the supplies and if this room is anything to go by then I think we have to have a plan rather than randomly wandering off into the unknown like Sheen wants to. We might be in a loose alliance now, but there is no way I'm going to get myself killed because of one stupid boy's impulsiveness.

Sheen replies to Marcia, speaking to everyone in the room, but I don't hear a word he says and my heart skips a beat when the first cannon fires. They sound the cannons of the tributes who fall in the first battle all together when it's all over. I've always known this, I've seen them do it countless times before when I've watched the Games on the television, but they are so loud they're almost deafening. I count eight, confirming Sheen's total, but they seem to carry on forever. As I listen to them, even as I look at the massacre that surrounds me, I can't help feeling more grateful than I can say that one of them isn't for me.

"We'll sort the supplies first then," I say, looking at Corvinus in an attempt to distance myself from Marcia and not look like I am following her suggestion.

He says nothing but nods and crosses the room towards the entrance to the Cornucopia, choosing to silently support me. It isn't the first time. Octavian follows him at a distance but Dahlia doesn't move. She looks at me again and then at the girl I killed, who is still lying there against the wall. I wish they would hurry up and take her away. I can't help feeling she deserves a more dignified ending than that. She obviously has a family she loves and they are watching now. What must her father be thinking, knowing that she was calling and calling for him and there was nothing he could do to save her?

Someone is obviously thinking the same, although probably for very different reasons, because as soon as the thought forms in my mind, a loud creaking sound fills the room as the ceiling seems to slide open. I look up but am disappointed to see nothing but more grey metal. The gap that is made must have been specifically designed to be exactly the right size for the relatively tiny hovercraft that materialises in front of me, in much the same way as the metal podiums that raised us up into the arena from the Launch Rooms. Everyone stops to silently watch as the dead tributes are raised up into the craft and transported from the arena. I only breathe again when the ceiling creaks back into place once more. I had been wondering how they were going to remove the dead and it looks like they just answered my question.

"I'm going for a look around," says Sheen, interrupting my thoughts in that harsh voice that is such a contradiction to the one I am used to hearing from his lips. "Is anyone else brave enough to come with me?"

Total silence follows his question and I'm not all that surprised. Marcia continues to sort through a box she has removed from the Cornucopia, carefully not meeting his eyes, and Octavian soon starts to help her. She lets him, which is something I wasn't expecting. Corvinus meets my district partner's stare evenly before turning his back on him in an obviously calculated gesture of disrespect. Sheen isn't so sure of himself that he wants to make an issue of it, and quickly sets off towards the nearest door. As soon as he is gone, Dahlia yanks another sword from the pile in the Cornucopia and follows him. I hope they kill each other but I somehow don't think I'd be that lucky.

I walk over to the golden horn and pull out a simple black backpack, quickly filling it with food and one of the few bottles of water I can see. I look around for a water source but my heart soon sinks when I can't see one. We're not going to last long with a single bottle of water each and that means we're going to have to search for it. Knowing the Gamemakers, I dread to think what will happen when we find it.

Once I have filled my small backpack, I begin to pace around the room. I don't know why I can't keep still but I really can't. Part of me wants to stay here in case I don't like what's out there but the rest of me can't stand not knowing, my imagination creating awful images in my mind to fill the gaps caused by my lack of knowledge. I only stop when the cannon fires.

"Who was that?" asks Octavian immediately, looking nervously around the room.

"How are we supposed to know?" I snap, my claustrophobia making me tense and irritable.

"Hopefully it's your district partner," says Marcia, looking sharply at Corvinus.

"Or mine," I reply.

I quickly find that I can't decide which I would prefer. If that cannon that fired was Sheen's or Dahlia's then I'm intelligent enough to realise my chances of winning have just got a whole lot better. Even though I know better than to ask the question that Octavian did, I want it answered all the same. I wish they would hurry up and play the death recap even though I have a feeling I'm in for a long wait.

A short time later, just as I've almost worked up the courage to leave the room and find out if the rest of the arena is as horrendously dark and enclosed as it is in here, I hear light footsteps and look up to see Dahlia striding across the room towards us. She's carrying so many knives that she ends up dropping several before she reaches us. I say nothing, but after hearing that cannon, I'm disappointed to see her return. As I look around at the faces of the others, it's very obvious that I'm not the only one.

"Where's Sheen?" asks Octavian.

"Isn't he back yet?"

"Can you see him here?" I ask her, unable to resist winding her up.

"I didn't see him," she snaps, for once not rising to the bait. "He'd vanished by the time I'd left the room."

"If he can do that then we'll have to hope it was his cannon that fired, won't we?" adds Marcia. I'd never admit it but that doesn't mean I don't agree with her.

"I can take him whenever I want to," snarls Dahlia in reply, and though she seems as confident as she normally does, showing no hint of doubt, I'd still like to know if she is as shocked by his transformation as I am. Did she already know? They'd talked before the arena, I know that, because he is the only one who could have told her about me leaving the Training Centre that night which already seems so long ago, but they don't seem to be acting like allies so perhaps I was wrong.

"We should take it in turns to keep watch," says Marcia sensibly, breaking several long minutes of silence. "I think it's night time now so we should get some sleep."

I wonder how she knows that? Did the bloodbath really go on for that long? It didn't seem like it at the time.

"Fine," replies Dahlia, her voice as harsh as ever. "You, Octavian and Corvinus sleep and District One can keep watch while I watch her."

I scowl both at the prospect of sitting up with Dahlia and because she clearly thinks she's in charge and can talk about me like I'm not merely a few metres away from her. And where is Sheen? He should be back by now and if he does return then I want a word with him. I know it doesn't really matter but I am still curious enough to want to know how long he's been planning for this. Maybe he won't actually come back. Maybe that was part of the plan too, just like it would have been part of mine if I hadn't panicked at the sight of this place.

"You go to sleep," says Corvinus to his district partner, sharply interrupting my thoughts as he speaks for the first time since the bloodbath to make it clear he won't be taking orders from her. "I'll keep watch now. I'd rather be the one who sleeps with District One."

I look from him to her and back again, quickly realising from the look on his face that I'm not the only one who finds it amusing to antagonise Dahlia. It shouldn't be funny but I can't help laughing. The expression on the face of the girl from District Two is priceless.

"No offence," I say to her in a false, sickly-sweet voice, "but I'm inclined to agree with him."

I get up and cross the front of the Cornucopia to sit beside Corvinus. He moves over slightly so I too can lean back against the golden horn but he says nothing. Dahlia snarls and throws a couple of the knives to the floor before immediately thinking better of it and picking them up again, but I can tell she senses that it's too early on to make an issue of it now.

A very short time later I jump slightly when the first chords of the anthem start to boom around the room, seeming to come from nowhere. They are quickly followed by the appearance of a projection of the Capitol seal on the wall opposite where I sit. The death recap. I'd forgotten about it until now.

"Eight we know and one we don't," says Marcia.

I wait with something I would probably call morbid anticipation for the first tribute to be shown, and when the boy from District Three's face appears, my heart sinks as I realise my district partner lives. The boy is quickly replaced by the little girl I killed, her black eyes seeming to stare straight at me. I know I will remember those eyes for the rest of my life. She is quickly followed by the boys from Five and Seven, both from Eight, the boy from Nine and the girl from Ten, and then finally both from Twelve. I try not to look into the eyes of the boy I killed. One face haunting my dreams is enough.

"So who was it who just died?" asks Octavian, looking confused and far too young to talk of such things so casually.

"The one from Eight," answers Corvinus immediately.

"I thought Sheen-"

"Where's your district partner?" snaps Dahlia, glaring at me as she cuts across the boy from Four, who quickly falls silent.

"How should I know?" I reply immediately. "What he does is nothing to me."

She opens her mouth to speak again but doesn't get the chance.

"Shut it and go to sleep or I'll silence you forever," growls Corvinus from his position at my side.

It's a struggle to stop myself from backing away, such is the ferocity of his voice and the aggression that almost seems to radiate from him. It isn't just an idle threat and I can tell she sees that too.

"I was only saying," she snarls back. "If he can kill like he did then we need to either know where he is or hunt him down and kill him."

"Well, that proves there's a first time for everything, District Two," I say. "I never thought I'd ever agree with you about anything, but about that, I do."

She pushes past me and fetches a thin, black sleeping bag from the Cornucopia, before taking it back across the room, lying it on one of the few patches of floor that isn't covered in pools of water and then sitting down on it without getting inside. I can't say that I blame her. It's so humid and damp in here that it's almost unbearable.

"If he doesn't return soon then he'll be the first one we hunt tomorrow," she says.

I nod without speaking and I feel Corvinus's slight movement as he does the same. It seems my award-winning actor of a district partner is actually helping me for once, because he seems to be uniting my enemy and I in a way I didn't think would ever be possible. I'm not foolish enough to think it will last, but while we have him to think about, she has a greater priority than me and I have a greater priority than her.

"Two hours and then we swap," she says, slowly and deliberately drawing a knife from her belt so both her district partner and I can see, before shifting further down the sleeping bag and lying down. "And just so you know, I'm a very light sleeper."

She doesn't speak again after that, and I look to the other side of the room to see that Marcia has settled down to sleep as well, with Octavian a short distance away from her. From the body language of all three sleeping tributes, I would say that the boy from Four is the only one who looks relaxed enough to be truly asleep.

I spend what I judge to be the next half an hour staring at the blank grey metal wall, listening to the steady trickle of water that never seems to cease. I'm strangely glad of it, because it is that irritating that it seems to be keeping me awake. I hear nothing else. There are none of the creepy scraping sounds I heard earlier while I was waiting for the gong to sound and no more cannons have fired. At some point, Corvinus turns around slightly to face away from me and I immediately do the same so I can lean back against him instead of the painfully hard side of the Cornucopia.

"Are you working with him?" he asks, and I jump at the sound of his deep voice in the silence. If he notices then he doesn't comment.

"Who?"

"You know who."

"No," I reply, pausing when I remember to keep my voice down. "No, I'm not," I continue in a hushed whisper. "We trained separately the whole time. For what it's worth, I think he hates me more than any other tribute in here."

He turns to look at me, and his sudden movement pushes me to the side so I fall back, my shoulder hitting the side of the golden horn.

"You're very convincing, little ally, but I'm not sure I believe you when I know how good an actress you are."

I go to stand up but he pulls me back down. I brush his hands off me sharply and try again, this time managing to rise to my feet. "Believe what you like. If he comes back then you'll see the truth. I was as surprised as you were and I'm not working with him."

"We'll see," he says, but he sounds more convinced than he did. I look down into his dark eyes with the complete confidence of one who is speaking the truth and he shrugs his broad shoulders. "Where do you think you're going anyway? We've got another hour and a half of this and I'm not spending it leaning against a metal wall."

Even as I sigh quietly with mock exasperation and sit back down again, I can feel tears welling up in my eyes and a lump forming in my throat. Corvinus might be Gloss's total opposite in virtually every way, but what he said then sounded so much like something my brother would say that I have to fight to control my emotions. It is suddenly a struggle to connect my brain to my body enough to make myself move, and so I'm grateful when my ally pushes my shoulder to turn me around, allowing me to regain the composure I doubt he even knew I'd lost as I lean back against him.

I bring my hand up to grasp my district token tightly, running my thumb repeatedly over the smooth surface of the vivid blue gem it contains. I wonder what Gloss is doing now. Is he watching me? I suppose he must be. There are only certain parts of the programming that are mandatory viewing in the districts, but they televise the Games twenty-four hours a day, and I remember how my brother and I sat on the sofa in his bedroom last year, watching Sapphire even as she slept. It hurts me to think of how he is all alone this year, but that thought makes me all the more determined as well. It makes me determined to keep the promise I made to return to him in a way that Sapphire wasn't able to. He is my little brother and he is relying on me. I can't let him down.