Author's Note: Thanks for the great reviews, and because of that, I will try to write more romance in the future. Well, I'm not going to write about the performances (sorry), but some of the tribute's scores will be revealed in this chapter. The interviews, like training, will take place over two chapters. The Catacombs will have one chapter, and then the Games start! Took a risk using this POV, but let's see how it goes. I've never used her before.

Ruby Todem – Training Center

Well, that went well. I never thought I would be able to throw that spear accurately. Hey, it barely hit the target, but at least it didn't fly into the Gamemakers' faces. I would think that I got points for doing those hurdles and stuff, but who knows.

My long, straight, chocolate hair covered my left eye as I gazed out over the table, at the display screen. They would announce the scores soon enough, but Conan was too busy gloating about how he got all 12 points. I doubt he did. No one ever did.

I heard the Capital anthem and I smiled, ready to see what everyone else got. My feet touched the center bar of the table as I relaxed, leaning back. I wiped my brow with a napkin and stared at the screen.

I guess it was boy and then girl. First came Marcus Lain, grinning like an idiot, but I could tell that when he wasn't talking with Flare he was actually pretty smart, and not lightheaded like he looked. Marcus got an 8.

Flare Heartforth. I noticed her looking at the screen at the nearest table to ours, biting her lip. Her face soon appeared on the screen, a 10 appearing beneath it. Flare almost jumped up in joy.

Conan's face was next. He ended up getting the same as Flare, a 10, and he looked mighty disappointed. Oh, well.

Finally, I was on screen, my picture from the Reaping. I was wearing my outfit I'd gotten from my mother, and you could see the collar in the picture. A 7 appeared below. A 7! I was expected to get lower. I guess I wasn't as bad as I thought after all.

The names went through quickly, and I could only remember a few people. Heron Rockon got an 8, Thor Vang got a 9, Anna Garys got an 8, and Rupert Stevens got a 10. I was disappointed to see most people were getting high scores. Except for Cain. He got a 4.

My fingers drummed on the table. I couldn't wait for tomorrow, which was the interviews. But after that was the Games, and I still wasn't sure if I was prepared or not. I had gotten a good score in training, so I hope I got good sponsors. Soon, everyone was released and able to go back to their rooms. It seemed that a few people went in groups. Hmmm, Safin was walking with Anna.

The elevator was pretty crowded, but I jumped in anyway. The doors closed and you could tell that a lot of feelings were in the air: anticipation, fear, knowing. The doors opened on Floor 2, and I got out. Conan wasn't in the elevator. I stared back at the elevator, while Alexander Van Der Donck managed to make a little wave. I slowly waved to him back. The doors closed.

The door to my room opened easily. Moonlight was streaming in through the wide windows, and my bed was still ruffled up from this morning when I had run downstairs to eat breakfast. It was only two days until the Games. I had needed to get some last minute training done, and for the first time I had managed to get a bullseye in archery. Maybe I was stronger than I thought.

I stared at the ceiling above me as I lay back in my bed. There was evidence of a fire in one corner, some burnt wood could be seen, but the Capital had fixed most of it. It wasn't like Heron's room was going to come down and collapse on top of me.

I had a dream about the bloodbath. Cannan Thursh was to my left, Safin S. Bayview to my right. I was staring at the bright Cornucopia in front of me, but I couldn't see my surroundings. There was the smell of blood in the air as everyone tensed, ready to run. Then I heard an explosion off to my right, right as the starting bell run. A girl screamed, and I heard Conan's deep laughter. I ran for the Cornucopia, but the laugh wouldn't go away. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in my back and I flew forward, in time to see Conan grin as he marched towards the Cornucopia.

"Ahh!" I sat up straight in my bed, the covers flying off. I looked out the window, seeing that the sun was struggling to make an appearance. I thought about my dream for a moment, and then pulled on a red t-shirt and jeans, with flip-flops on my feet. It seemed to be a nice day, maybe a bit cold, but I was going to the roof so I could admire the view.

When I arrived, there was already someone up there. It was Prophet, and he leaned on the railing as he looked out over the city. I sighed. It was so peaceful up here.

Prophet noticed me and spun around.

"You're…Ruby, right?" He signaled. I had learned a bit of sign language in school, so I knew what he was saying.

"Yeah. Prophet?" He nodded, and then sighed.

He motioned to the view. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"I know. It's a great city from what I've heard, but we're all trapped in this building. The only person who will get to see it is whoever wins."

"Hmm. I just wish we could take a tour or something before the Games started."

"That would be nice. I wish I could see all the shops." Prophet smiled.

"Well, good luck. Nice meeting you, even though we'll all be killing each other tomorrow."

"Good luck to you, too, although we'd better start to get prepared for the interviews." Prophet grimaced. I walked back to the elevator, and he continued to look out over the city.

Prophet Thenidiel – Training Center Roof

Seeing as how I got a 7 yesterday, I'm not too sure how far I'll get. I'm still debating over whether I'll run from the Cornucopia or not. This rambles through my mind as I travel down through the building in the elevator and exit out through the main floor. The morning air is crisp and cool as I walk out the front door. There's a little path here to the stylists' rooms, which connect to the area where we will be given our interview.

I feel famous as I walk down the pathway, as guards watch me closely and people point and smile. I don't feel too special, because it's probably the same for every other tribute. The sliding glass doors open up as I enter my stylist's room. I don't feel too hungry…but that's probably because of the bowl of cereal I ate in my room.

Jem smiles as I enter the room.

"So, are you ready for the Games, Prophet?" I grin and make a small nod, but my smile drops when she brings out this huge kit which will probably rip off all of the skin on my body, cut off my hair, and rip out parts of my fingernails to make me "beautiful."

I was right. First, Jem takes these clippers and begins to take out the front end of my fingernails. I can soon hear other people enter the area, getting ready for their interview.

Time passes very quickly. Before I know it, my hands glow with healthiness and my hair is trimmed short, which actually doesn't look that bad. My face is cleaned, and I am soon forced to take a shower with this yellow foam, which scours all the dirt from my body…along with most of the first layer of skin. The water is hot and relaxing, though, and I almost forget I'm soon to enter an arena in which kids are killed for entertainment.

Jem clips my toenails (which, embarrassingly, I haven't done in a while) and puts these soft, fuzzy, white socks over my feet. I guess it is time to get dressed out for the interview.

First is a plain white t-shirt that goes over my chest. As I put it on I hear a male tribute yell in pain, probably getting the hair ripped off of his arms. I smile, but then frown again when Jem puts these really thin shoes on my feet, which would probably rip in half if I jumped down a wall more than two feet.

I get this great, shiny, black jacket, which probably cost a lot of money for just a one-night use. I see a tag on the inside explaining that the jacket was made in District 8, my home district. I get these pants made out of the same material and my hair is combed to the side. I look in the mirror and I am surprised by how I look.

I look like any normal, fit tribute, a tribute that would last to the end of the Games. I have my eye, but it's not really noticeable, and now that I think about it, will I talk or use sign language in the interview? I've used it for so long, but recently I've began to talk again. There was the time on the chariot, and then in the Reapings when I made a choked sound in my throat. I haven't yelled in pain…yet.

I decide to use sign language in the interview. I'm sure Caesar Flickerman can read sign language, because he's been doing this for 99 straight years! But in the Games, I don't know. It will be rushed, and since I decided to ally with Bea, I don't think she'll have time to look at me when I use sign language, or if we are running away from something and I think of a split-second idea that might save our lives. I'll have to think about that.

A few hours later, everyone seems to have finished up getting ready for the interviews. We are quickly fed dinner, but it is only six o'clock. We still have a bit of time to kill before the interviews, but all we are able to do is sit in this big waiting room, all 25 of us.

Most people look stronger than what they looked like in the Reapings. I see some amazing outfits, but there are some I don't agree with. Bea has this thin, red dress, which has a bit of glitter on it so it sparkles in the light. More showing off of our district.

I see an intercom in the corner, and I know it is almost time for the interviews. Everyone has been preparing for this all day. I turn to Bea, who is staring at the table in front of her. She looks up.

"Nervous?" she asks.

"A bit. You?"

"Nah. I'm confident that we'll do well. But I'm worried about something I heard in the main hall earlier today."

"What?"

"Well, I heard Penelope Young talking to Rupert Stevens. According to her, the Capitol is going to introduce these new mutts into the Games this year."

"New mutts?"

"Yeah. Apparently Cain overheard some residents talking about new danger in the arena: new traps, new design for the arena, and new mutts. And she mentioned something about the 50th Hunger Games."

"The one with 48 tributes?" I remembered watching reruns for that year. The winner of those Games, Haymitch Abernathy, ended up being the first winner for District 12 and the mentor for Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. He disappeared while he was in the Capital during the 80th Games.

"Yeah. She said something about gulls…" The intercom turned on, and pretty much every tribute turned to look at it.

"All tributes, please walk through the sliding glass door, which has now been unlocked. You are free to discuss subjects with your fellow tributes for no more than five minutes, but by then you must be in your seat outside. Good luck." The intercom shut off, and I started to walk towards the sliding glass doors. Trying to ignore the kittens jumping around in my stomach, I looked back at the room again. Tonight, everyone would be nervous. No one would sleep. Fitful dreams would fill the air as we lay to rest.

It is the Hunger Games. It's our destiny.

Author's Note: Well, interesting points of view from Ruby and Prophet, and I may decided to continue next chapter with Prophet again. Like I said before, I will send out a last minute notice that the Games are beginning to EVERYONE when I put up the Catacombs chapter. Good luck to everyone's tributes.