"This is it, Reyna. Good luck."

"Thanks you." I say, my voice seemingly out of sync with my mouth. "I'll remember everything you taught me."

My mentor starts walking back through the door, trying to cover the fact she's weeping. Her footsteps sound off the metal floor.

I feel like weeping too.

Presently, my stylist appears through the steel door, dressed in something ridiculous and slamming said door eagerly behind her. She's dragging what looks like a whole suitcase of clothes over the step and my stomach does flips until I can practically smell the blood in the air. This actually is it.

Slowly, Danalin helps me into the layers and layers of thick and fluffy clothing. A huge white coat with a black lining fits snugly over the top of numerous shirts and undershirts. Massive boots, bursting with some kind of fur, are reverently placed onto my thickly socked feet, and I even get a warm face-mask. The arena must be seriously cold. I've never seen tributes dressed quite like this. Danalin even takes the time to spray my braid with something she says will keep it in as a last act of kindness, before taking my hands and telling me she's rooting for me.

She sends me to the bathroom when the 2-minute warning comes up, and gives me a cup of water. By this point I'm not even properly controlling my actions. I just do what my stylist says, and only managed to nod my thanks when she slips a sugary biscuit with pretty icing into my coat pocket.

I'm loaded onto the plate and get ready to go up, my hands clutching a small golden ring - the one part of home that I can take into the arena. I hope my sister's watching. I know it killed her, not being able to volunteer for me. But I wouldn't have wanted her to. Hylla deserves to live her life.

"20 seconds." Announces the speakers. Danalin gives me a sympathetic look. I just stand there, closing my eyes.

"15 seconds"

What was I thinking?

"10"

This can't be happening!

"9"

The glass slides down around me.

"8"

Danalin gives me a thumbs-up.

"7"

I love you Hylla.

"6"

This is for you.

"5"

"4"

"3"

"2"

Goodbye

"1"

I hold no regrets.

The plate beneath my feet begins to rise.

I rise through several feet of gleaming silver steel until I'm blinking, standing on a metal plate in the middle of an Ice World.

Seriously, the floor is made from ice and snow, there are mountains of ice, cliffs made from it, and nothing else. Nothing green or plant-like or man-made. Nothing.

Survival must depend on the bloodbath then.

The cornucopia is shining gold in a land of white and silver, as out of place as I was in the Capitol. Unnatural. We all stand equidistant, supplies and food laid out around us, thicker and more plentiful as you get closer to the horn. I spot a clear box of fruit near me. Some use, sure. But the packs of meat and the fire kit in the centre are more my thing. I just need my eyes on the prize, and with the pre-prepared alliance of 6 of us, getting it should be quite easier. The guy from 3 and the girl from 8 are on each side of me, but both 2 tributes are quite close, so we should be able to fight off any attackers from our side.

Sure enough, when the countdown finishes with a bang, us three run in together, the girl passing us a few knives each. I position myself near the entrance, and nail one young boy between the shoulder blades right away.

It makes a sickening sound and I almost cry out at my new kill, before remembering that this is what I was trained to do. And this is what I must do, to bring glory to my district.

So I narrow my eyes and take my second throw.

Bang in the chest.

My allies aren't doing too badly either. Percy and the 1 tributes have joined us now in the mouth, leaving the little scraps further away to the rest. The boy and girl who started off next to me have disappeared. I can't see them among the dead.

Strangely, that makes me happy.

Most of the others have run off now, taking the small pickings, but a few still stand and fight. The 12 boy - Octavian I think - is trying to take on the 2 boy. The sound of splintering bones inevitably comes, and I watch Octavian fall to the frozen ground out the corner of my eye, his head smashed in.

He shouldn't have tried.

I send another knife at a blonde kid, cussing when it misses. Silently, Percy passes me a golden sword from a small pile behind us and tilts his head towards the kid. I run out towards the blonde guy, hating the look of fear on his face as he realises I'm coming for him. He starts to run, but the sword cleaves cleanly through his back, puncturing organs and pushing him to the ground. The snow is stained with his blood, falling in sticky pools around him as he spasms, dropping his flask of water.

I should kneel down, hold his hand whilst he dies. But I inflicted this. And I should be proud of it. My fifth kill, and the bloodbath isn't even over. The sponsors should love me. I should love me for this. I'm doing well for my district.

Several more attacks are made on us, none succeeding. I mean, the Careers have always worked well together at the start. It's just afterwards we start turning on each other. More bodies are added to the scene. More trophies pile up for us. Food, water, weapons and even a massive tent. It might not fit all of us though.

After only what I judge to be a few hours, tributes stop trying to sneak anywhere close to the horn. All of them have either run off, far off into the surrounding mountains, or are lying motionless in the snow. The coats are good, I've decided. I can barely feel the cold from under it.

They can't feel anything. They're dead.

I scowl.

Shut up Reyna.

Percy takes the lead, dragging the blueish-white tent a few metres away from the Cornucopia. The 1 tributes follow him, picking up large packs of food and a few choice weapons. The rest of us take whatever looks useful.

We begin setting up camp. The tent is just about big enough for us all, and has some very good hidden spy-holes. We chose weapons and start practising, drawing targets in the snow.

The helicopters come for the bodies, and I count them. 9 near us, and maybe some more in the background.

By mid-afternoon, Career Camp is completed. The curly-haired 1 girl begins to prepare some of the ready-cooked meat. We sit to eat as a group, gnawing on our food without care for manners.

Names are shared as we make stiff conversation. The 1 tributes are Frank and Hazel, 2 are Sherman and Annabeth. Sherman looks the worst out of all of us. Him and Frank may be equal in size and skill, but the former has that look in his eyes that you come to recognise from watching the Games. The one you see in the eyes of those who pound skulls in, kill without mercy and even manage to put on a good show on purpose. The ones who betray anyone. Kill anyone.

He needs to be dealt with.

We finish eating and sit outside in a circle around the tent, waiting for signs of hidden tributes. We take it in turns to nap.

So when Sherman's head finally sinks to his chest, and his eyes close, I get up and stab him. Right in the heart. His blood gushes over my hand, but I plunge it in deeper, willing myself never to waver.

His eyes never open again.

The four others watch me in horror, drawing their weapons.

"He would have killed us all." I speak clearly. "He would have betrayed and stabbed every single one of us."

Annabeth nods slowly.

"I had the same idea." She said slowly.

Frank grunts uncomfortably.

I sit back down.

"Return to watching now please. We wouldn't want to mess this up now."

But I think I have messed it up. I saved them, but I might not have saved me.

Sometimes I forget these people are killers too.