The first two days of waiting slog by slowly. I swear the temperature has risen at least five degrees since the reapings. My mother, who is a weaver (meaning she takes the willow branches that I cut and weaves them into products that the Capitol uses—such as rocking chairs), always seems to need more branches than I cut, so this is the second time I've gone into the woods today. I've begged for a day off before, but she has never given in.

So for the third day, and the fourth time in a row, I am walking into the woods to a willow grove about fifteen minutes away. I almost there, something catches my sight. A rabbit is lying on the ground—with an arrow sticking straight through its head.

"Gaaahhh!" I yell and almost throw up. Its brains and blood have soaked into its fur, so that its head is stained a bright red in contrast to its normally brown fur. This isn't what a dead animal is supposed to look like. When Arboren brought us animals that she had killed with her slingshot, they looked like they were sleeping peacefully—they were clean, limp, and had their eyes closed.

The rabbit is really starting to creep me out. Its eyes are open, but glazed over, and are staring forwards at nothing. I don't want to look at it any longer, so I turn around—and come face to face with Ash.

"So I see you've found my dinner," he says.

"Why do you have to do that?" I ask after I get over my surprise.

"Do what?'

"Keep popping up like that! You're always there when I don't expect it, you could give me a little warning! Anyway, could you please do something with that rabbit? Like cover it up or something; I don't like looking at it."

He laughs and says, "Capitol girl," but goes and puts it in a bag that he is carrying anyway.

I sigh, "Will you stop calling me that? I live in District Seven, same as you."

"Yeah, well you act like you're from the Capitol."

"So? I don't think the Capitol bad at all," I retort. Seriously, I seem to be the only person who hates District Seven. All the other girls at my school spend recess climbing trees in the woods. Personally, I try to stay in the cafeteria to avoid the freak rain showers in the spring, the snow in the winter, and the bugs in the fall. Also, Ash seems to think that "Capitol girl" is some sort of insult—it's not, though, but it is annoying.

"Have you ever been to the Capitol?" he asks.

"No…." I say cautiously; I have no idea why he asked that.

"Well, remember how three years ago, one of our district's tributes won the Games?"

"Yes!" I say excitedly. I remember the party at the end of the victory tour was the most exciting thing that happened in my whole life. It was amazing and felt unreal to be there, with all the music and dancing. I had been to one other when I was very little, but this was the first one that I had been old enough to remember.

Ash continues, "He was my friend from school—a couple grades above me, but we knew each other pretty well. And in the middle of the victory tour party, I went over to congratulate him. But I hesitated when I noticed that something was wrong. Even though he had just won the Hunger Games, his eyes were red and puffy and it was obvious that he'd been crying—a lot. I almost turned away to leave him alone, when he came over and mumbled something in my ear about wanting to talk to me. 'In the ox shed in fifteen minutes—don't bring anyone,' he said to me. So fifteen minutes later, I headed over to the ox shed, being very careful so that no one noticed where I was going. When I got to the ox shed, I saw him sitting on a bale of hay. He beckoned me over and I sat on a bale next to him. 'I'm going back to the Capitol,' he told me, 'I don't want to—I hate it there, with all those silly, stupid people, and of course President Snow who is not stupid at all—but they made me.' In the dark of the ox shed, he looked even younger than me. 'I'm to become one of the guards that stand outside of the Capitol's gates. And if I don't they kill someone I love—it's true, I talked to the other tributes." He paused. 'Take care of my family, Ash, I know I can trust you.' Then—leaving me sitting there on that bale of hay, he got up and left the ox shed. That was the last time I saw him." Ash gives a small cough and pauses for a second. "Never trust the Capitol," he says.