The night brings new terrors, evolved and reality based. Prim no longer bursts into flame but instead Peeta yells at me in disgust that I had let our little secret slip before he knew himself. I wake drenched in an icy sweat after viewing our child being devoured by a pearly scaled snake to find the sun isn't even hinting at rising. My sheets stick to me damp like my moistened skin making sleep impossible.

I drag myself up to the shower rinsing off not bothering to remove undergarments until I change into a fresh silken robe hanging in the closet. I pull my wet hair back into a braid wanting the cool to last against my back. My stomach growls with accompanying pangs reminding me my last meals didn't survive digestion. The metallic taste has returned to my saliva filled mouth but my body maintains its hunger. I'll need my strength for the archery sessions today regardless. I tie the robe securely and lock the lavish door to my room, a somewhat improvement from my last one. I wasn't aware that was even possible. Regardless I don't feel like company tonight.

The room is awash in turquoise with dark soft carpet underfoot. The bed appears to be larger and easier to get lost in with its crisp white sheets and dark covers illuminated by a series of panels that when touched light up to reveal silhouettes of forest trees bare of leaves. Looking at them summons an ache for my woods. While I can still hunt in them. Cupboards and drawers seamlessly integrated into the far wall with glossy white doors that require only a slight amount of pressure to open stay dormant. Of course to crown the room and possibly, as a subtle reminder from the Capitol designers of the room of why the inhabitant is there, the wall to the left is complete glass displaying the Capitol shimmering in its finest. All the previous unsightly damage and make shift refugee village that had existed until last month are nothing but a shaow of a memory to the shimmering city twinkling in the night.

I search the walls for the panel containing the menu, finding it, it lights up at my touch and I carefully flick my finger to browse the contents. I sit cross legged on my soft bed and browse the softly glowing blue screen. I opt for sweet noodles in a peanut sauce with an assortment of vegetables selecting it with a tap of my finger and it materialises shortly after. I'm mid spoonful when a light tap at the door sours my mood. I set down my meal but keep the knife that accompanied my meal. I'm doubtful that Cornelia would be polite enough to knock but I cannot afford risks while in the Capitol. I open the door keeping my body shielded behind it. I relax slightly seeing Aelia in a simple nightdress.

"I-I-I'm sorry if I woke you." She fumbles her words.

"I was up, the meeting didn't finish very long ago. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine I just wanted to know what happened at the meeting." She looks at the floor.

"You want to know if you're being punished."

"Yes."

"Training is being cut short. You get a few more sessions on your own and then it's straight to interviews." I open the door to let her in.

"But what about me? I poisoned Peeta."

"They don't know that." My eyes narrow.

"Do they think Cornelia did it? I'll tell them it was me."

The shock or confusion must be apparent on my face.

"She's been protecting her family too."

"By getting you all killed." I retort snorting.

"My father taught me that you take responsibility for what you do wrong."

I take a proper look at the unusual girl I'm speaking to. She has a strong resemblance to her father in structure and the shape of her face. I wouldn't know about her colouring. The few times I saw or spoke to Caesar Flickerman he was violently coloured with the latest in Capitol fad. Her hazel eyes are kind but sad as she avoids my gaze. Her black hair cascades down her back with impossible smoothness. Is there no one from the Capitol who isn't blindingly beautiful? Her athletic build doesn't seem to affect her femininity but it does make her dangerous.

"Nothing can be done now the decision has been made."

"Did they blame you?"

I shake my head. "Not really."

She nods letting silence descend, I look at her face carefully. She's deciding on which words to use next.

"My father didn't even support the Capitol you know." She states softly.

I look at her feeling empathy for her the grief on her face unmistakable. My mind reaches back to the hurt that seemed endless when my father died. I gently touch her arm and look in her eyes nodding.

"I know."

"I don't want to die. No one will fight in my family for our name. I've got to win." She keeps her phrases short but the wobble of unsteadiness in her voice creeps in.

"Why did you stay in the Capitol? You must have known they'd be after you."

She shrugs, "It's what we knew. All we knew. The soldiers watched who was trying to leave. No one would want to deal with us inside the city let alone outside."

Trapped. Just as we were. I'm not sure exactly what to feel finding myself in the opposite position of the one I was brought up in. She wouldn't know how to starve like I do.

"You know Peeta is probably a better mentor than me. I don't play nice well with others."'I point out.

"But because of you he lived." She's wiser than she looks.

"I guess so. Peeta still isn't awake because of what you did." Venom creeps into my words.

"Will he ever wake up?"

Her eyes fill with tears of genuine remorse her face wrought in pain.

"He will. He'll probably forgive you too."

"And you?"

I stay quiet. A glow of distrust and anger still emits from an ember of what happened to Peeta. I munch on my now cold noodles unsure of what responsive to give.

"You better go rest. You need to be up early to talk strategy." I say through noodles hoping they'll keep a raising flood of tears away although their cause is lost on me. She nods rising.

"Goodnight Katniss." She says from the door.

"Goodnight Aelia. Don't forget big big day tomorrow!" I do my best Effie impression making Aelia smile. She takes strongly after her father.

I would probably have acted just as she did should I have been in her position. But I'm not.

I watch the sun rise going over different ways I could attempt to save either tributes life. My glance wonders constantly to the screen in my room just waiting for the gossip to be broadcast nationwide. I scan my arm in for my timetable. It's considerably longer than yesterday's with hourly sessions with each tribute. An hour is not very long to teach someone to shoot. Those who already know how to use a bow could use the time to practice shots or I could perhaps show them how to aim correctly or possibly how to fashion a bow out of basic materials.

"Katniss." I hear Gale's voice. I look around for Gale but my door is closed and no one is outside.

"Katniss there is a communicator embedded in the panel by your bed."

Probably cameras too. I scowl and locate the crudely installed steel communication panel hitting a green button that seems to be the right one to press.

"Come to apologise?"

"Katniss about today's sessions, keep them professional will you? Don't give any other information apart from that about hunting and shooting got it?" He didn't appreciate my demand for an apology his tone is both exhausted and sour.

"Yeah I got it. Look Gale I can't teach them anything in an hour you know that."

"It's out of my hands Katniss."

"Your the head Gamemaster aren't you?"

"It was handled by another department. I've been busy keeping your... Condition out of the press. Creates a bad look to make a pregnant woman work even a stubborn one like you." A playful tone sneaks in at the end of his sentence I can picture his smirk as I listen.

"Thank you Gale." I let my tone thaw.

"Oh and Katniss-"

"Yes?"

"I can't hold off Plutarch much more before he goes straight to the President herself. I told him you'd give an interview. Just play nice you know..." He sounds sincere, ever since I arrived Gale has done nothing but confuse me. I sigh liking the familiar voice of the old Gale I knew. Who had my back.

"Give him a good show?"

"Exactly."

A slight clipping sound and the channel goes dead. I can mentally count down until Flavius and the team burst through the door rife with gossip and oversized shoulder pads. I nod along as usual to Venia and Octavia trying to catch me up on the latest gossip. Today it's mostly about Enobaria's latest interview with her tribute. Apparently the boy didn't get a word in between Enobaria's violent threats against Cornelia and I. Rumours are multiplying about an illicit affair between Johanna and Gale. She was staring at him last night. Fire and fire. It's an odd fit. Of course such fraternisation is frowned upon by those watching and partaking. Who knows what extra information she could glean from him if that were the case. I struggle to picture them together acting smitten in dark places whispering to each other over a meal while Flavius fits me in a starlight silver strapless gown with a tight bodice and high waist. The skirt is nothing short of ridiculous ballooning out to my knees but tucked under itself to resemble a jellyfish. It's covered in a slightly furry fabric like a fleece arranged into huge roses to cover the bobbing skirt. Feathers cover the top of the bodice in a matching silver to the patterns pained on my arms. I wobble in the heels that have been placed on my feet. I turn awkwardly trying to keep my balance glimpsing the vibrant make up on my face. Cinna would never allow me took so incredulous but it will have to do. My hair escaped the ordeal staying in a braid. I thank my pets and head to the dining area carefully.

Cornelia sits perfectly postured unaffected by her guards behind her. Blonde hair in an intricate bun and gold bar earrings shinning from her ears. Aelia sits by her munching some bacon dripping in syrup he black hair pulled into two buns on either side of her head. Both fitted int their training suits for the day.

"Morning." I say curtly more for Aelia's benefit. Cornelia stays focused on her breakfast but starts to smile sending me on edge.

"Nice dress." Cornelia replies.

"Thank you." I try not to choke on the words swallowing some milk to wash out the metallic taste in my mouth.

"I had one just like it at home. Come to think of it, it was precisely like that one."

I handle my knife deliberately.

"Should I have it screened for poisons then?" I narrow my eyes.

"Such words from a mentor. I would think you are implying something Katniss."

"I'm not implying I'm stating. I know it was you who poisoned the other tributes. Get that from grandpa did you?" I say harshly.

Cornelia's eyes flash with anger but she holds her expression steady. Countless years of politics have bred a dangerous deceptive agent in her.

"My grandfather taught me how to win. A few lives are a small cost for an overall victory. You should know that better than anyone. Send in the pawns and utilise the queen." Each word is dripping with antagonism.

"Mustn't need me then."

"Now, now Katniss. Weren't you told by your old friend to play nice?"

How could she have known about a conversation I had moments ago? She's inherited more than her grandfather's looks. Aelia comes to the rescue resting her spoon in her bowl.

"Any more advice to help us survive Katniss?" She offers.

"Water." I take a sip from my glass.

"What about water?" Aelia frowns.

"Water is your best friend. Find any source of water you can and make sure you remember where it is."

"And if there isn't one?"

"There'll be one. It's boring to watch tributes die from thirst. If there's anything alive they'll be water near by." I smile realising I sound like my old drunkard of a mentor on level four.

"What about a weapon?" Cornelia still examines her breakfast.

"Forget it unless you want to die first. The cornucopia is a bloodbath. Run. Run the other way. Then find shelter. Caves, trees if you can climb them-"

Cornelia snorts. My temper flares, knife in hand I jam it into the table.

"Listen up precious, you may think these games are beneath you but let me tell you the other tributes want to live and the new government wants you dead. You want to live you damn listen to me. The odds aren't in your favour this time."

"Anything we should do today?" Aelia tries to disperse the tension.

"Find a skill for the private sessions. Work on refining it tonight. Whatever you do make it something they won't forget." I check my arm my first session of interviews will be starting shortly causing me to rise.

"Don't be late to training." I add heading out to the doors leading to the elevator.

Cornelia leans over the table with a smile and jams her knife right next to mine into a fly. The knife wobbles slightly shuddering from the impact.

"I think you'll find Katniss, that the odds indeed are in my favour. Enjoy lunch." She grins showing perfect white teeth.

I hide my shudder until I am out of eyesight closing the door behind me. I rub my arms against tingling chills but its not the environment. Lunch was hours away but I have a feeling Cornelia has already decided the menu.

I take the elevator up to the foyer of the conference room to find the camera crews set up and filming my arrival. Plutarch appears from my left enveloping me in a hug so exaggerated there is no doubt he's playing it up for the public. A cosy relationship between mentors and the rebellion must be important to maintaining faith in the new order. Effie sits perched perfectly on one of the plush sofas. Being the district's representative she must be there to serve as a representive of the government. A friendliness between me and the current system apparently still holds some sway over the population. My eyes glance over her at first, her crimson jacket blends her into the couch. Her gold skirt shimmers against the daylight matching her large earrings. Her blood red lips make her face more devoid of colour than her customary white face paint. Flame like feathers adorn her wig which, set against the tangerine colouring of the hair piece makes her look like she's on fire. I grip my chest at a pang of the last memory of Prim. The flames licking at her innocent face as her lips try to call for me.

"You look splendid, sit, sit." Plutarch gestures by Effie.

I awkwardly shuffle in the Capitol heels to sit by Effie avoiding looking at her too closely. Plutarch's sky blue suit makes the three of us resemble the cosmos. Sun, moon and sky. I shoot a look at my prep team standing by the camera insects in case of any cosmetic catastrophes.

"Thank you." I say softly.

"So Katniss, this has been a big year for you." Plutarch sits opposite us in a winged chair.

I put on my public smile not sure if he wants a reply to his obvious statement.

"First year as mentoring is often the hardest Plutarch but our Katniss has it all under control." Effie beams shamelessly.

"It is interesting that you are mentoring the only volunteer this year. Being a volunteer yourself has this helped you bond with Cornelia Snow, who by all rights should be your enemy?" Plutarch leans in.

Show me you care about your tribute. No one will support a passionless sell. The old woman from the stadium remind me.

"I'm here to help her live. She is different from her grandfather. Bonding is difficult given the situation." I say as charismatically as I can. She is different from her grandfather, she's female. That's about as far as the differences go but it puts truth in my words.

"Do you feel she has a chance at winning?"

"Yes." I reach for more words frantically. "She's a merciless fighter and strong in herself. She's smart, she knows how to exploit weaknesses. She looks good in a training suit too."

I see Plutarch, Effie and all other occupants in the room stare at me. I even let my own mouth drop mentally. How would Peeta fix this? I start to laugh to cover my odd last statement making it out to be a witty joke. Plutarch and Effie join in to help me cover my bases. I clench my jaw against my skin crawling that I have to say anything remotely positive about my venomous tribute.

When the laughter dies down I'm finally inspired with an angle to promote both girls at once.

"If you sponsor either of my tributes, you sponsor me. My work. The same work that won two games in a row." I continue talking before Plutarch or Effie can remind Panem that I didn't really win the Quell. But I lived. I need to reinforce this quickly with something to rope in support.

"The same work that brought about the New Order we enjoy today." I try to sound as confident as possible without being threatening. Plutarch laps it up.

"To which we are all grateful." He flashes a smile at the cameras.

The interview drones on with familiar questions to previous years causing me to stumble between answers for intelligent words. I think of Peeta, how he could have the crowd eating out of his hand and follow suit burying the longing that rises up with it. I talk up Cornelia's skills as best I can without brining up my breakfast and make a smooth transition into discussing my new tribute Aelia. Relating her to Peeta is fairly simple and it will win her the sympathy vote. I relax into the seat more bringing up her father and her valiant quest to bring back her family's good name. I go as far as mentioning how Caesar helped me during my interview so it's only fitting I do the same. I owe him a debt. Another name to add to the list. I'm struck by an idea that may save Cornelia's neck as Plutarch feeds the conversation, his face lit up, he's got some good footage of a new side of the fallen Mockingjay. An exclusive unlike any publicist before him. Effie sings my praises at every turn, my determination to mentor my tributes with a sick husband in a serious condition. It's all very touching, enough to make even me want to support our efforts. I smile and smooth my dress to avoid playing with my hands and turn my head appropriately when Effie or Plutarch speak and manage a merry fake laugh at their lame jokes.

"When it comes down to it Plutarch, this is all about our mark on Panem. Cornelia has had some indiscretions recently but she is striding for something we all want. To build a legacy for ourselves... Memories for those left behind. She takes a position of strength to hide the scared little girl that's lost everything to change. To support her would mean to support preserving old ways into just that. Old ways to allow room for new. Who wouldn't want to say they sponsored a piece of history that brought about change in even the unlikeliest person?"

I smile sweetly forcing my child bearing sickness back down my throat.

"Who indeed wouldn't. Thank you Katniss for an ever enlightening experience." Plutach says diplomatically.

I sit back satisfied that I had managed to make Aelia into at least a matyr, Cornelia a scared weak little girl with a vicious capacity to lash out at the cruel world that had shut her out and tap into the sponsor's empathy and desire to preserve the history of Panem and ensure it is not forgotten. This should pull in both Capitol loyalists and any new sponsors with any luck. I give Plutarch my hand for him to kiss it, my stomach lurches slightly I'm pushing boundaries being so far from a place to empty it's contents. It takes all my strength to keep smiling as Plutarch delivers a conclusion and the camera insects finally tell us we're done. I look at Effie for help holding my mouth.

"Not on the day bed!" She shrieks. "Here!" She gives me a near by bin just in time.

Plutarch takes a step back and Effie inelegantly jumps on the daybed as she called it to save her shoes. I ignore both of them sealing the bag and pressing a button I remember will reduce the contents to ashes, setting the bin back down. I stand upright, straighten my dress and glance at my arm. My training sessions start in a few minutes. I turn to my prep team who are half across the room to mend my make up that my sickness must have effected.

"It doesn't matter I need to be down in training in a minute." I insist.

"We know your suit is inside the conference room we'll change you there." Flavius says in a tone of disapproval of my lack of faith in him.

In mere moments my stomach feels nauseated but this has nothing to do with the child I'm carrying. The sleek feel of the battle suit has too many memories for my liking. But I have no choice as is the current theme of things in Panem. Do what the people in power tell you to. I test the boots I've been given. New and not worn in. I kick the floor a bit and wriggle my foot. The friction seems adequate, but they aren't anything like my hunting boots. I move my feet while I ride the elevator down to the training level matching the one allocated on my arm. Different levels now assigned to different skills to efficiently run the new training program. The doors open and I'm still trying to work in my boots but step into the empty room except for a few stands containing bows and several full quivers lining the wall. My eyes adjust slowly to make out a line of targets looming some distance from the stands of bows. I step out stretching my arms. A slight humming catches my attention sending me running to the weapon racks. I seize the first bow within reach and feel a slight vibration making me relax.

I glide my old bow through my hands, I actually welcome its familiarity. The bow hums in my hands, how long has it been on for? Barely containing myself with the thrill of holding my favoured weapon, feeling like the old Katniss who spent her time roaming woods not Capitol errands, I seize a quiver and aim for the first target I see. My hands seize it in a practiced grip the adrenaline races through me making me feel more alive than I have since I arrived. I let myself melt into my weapon, feeling it vibrate with light responding to my touch.

I hold my breath. Relax. And exhale. The arrow flies free of my bow and buries itself into the target. Not in its heart.

In its eye.

Hunting time.