Flint, District 7.

My eyes flicker around the room, dancing across the different tributes gathered there. I don't like it down here – where there are no windows and so you can't see the clouds.

I watch the girl with the fiery red hair for a moment, as she gnaws on her lip in concentration. The knife leaves her hand, and sticks into the wall beside the target. I close my eyes and imagine the red of her hair spreading throughout the room, flames licking their way up the walls; my body tenses in fear and I force my eyes back open.

I should've learned by now that remembering what happened won't get me anywhere. "Look, it stuck!" The girl exclaims eagerly, spinning back around to look at me. "Ceylon, did you see?"

My jaw clenches as a rush of anger overwhelms me. Haven't they learned by now? My name isn't Ceylon Touramaline. Not anymore.

I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, and remember the day that Garnet took me to the park back home, and I had lain in the grass all day, just watching the clouds.

When I jerk them open again, I find the girl surveying me with an anxious expression pasted onto her face. I've seen this expression on Garnet and Opal's faces before – pity, is what it is. Sometimes I just want to stretch out my hand, and wipe that expression off their faces. But then they would only pity me more, and so it's easier to force a wide smile onto my face and allow them to pity me.

"It's Flint," I tell her brightly. "Like the rock."

"Oh yeah," her eyes light up in understanding, "that's what our roof back home is made out of. I think anyway. Or maybe it just used to be made out of flint. I'm not quite sure because I-"

I distract myself from her rambling by glancing back at the rings of the target. The colours; bright blues and yellows, are tantalisingly bright, and they draw me in. I stare, mesmerised at the colours that seem to blend into one another and then they change. Where the blue and yellow fuzz together, a bright emerald green emerges.

Emerald. The word instantly conjures up bright images within my mind. I see a woman with soft brown hair, and deep green eyes that explain her name. I see her curled at the end of my bed, her lips forming the words of my favourite bedtime story.

Happy memories are always bright and shiny. But I know that a bad one is coming when everything turns dark, and the shadows lengthen and conjure up strange shapes that are so at odds with the ones that I am able to spot amongst the clouds.

The memories bouncing around in my mind are growing darker now. I remember my mother on the floor at the feet of my father, begging him not to hurt us anymore. Tears rolling down her cheeks and...

"Cey-Flint?"

I push the onslaught of memories back inside of me, and force myself to concentrate on the girl who is talking to me.

The Fire Girl holds out a knife in front of her, and I take an automatic step backwards, believing that she's threatening me.

But then I take a look into her eyes. They don't seem dangerous, not like some of the wild animals that I used to come across in the forest. They're wide and friendly. Then I realise; she wants me to have a go.

I take the knife from her, my hands clenching around the handle – it's a familiar feeling for my hand, I'm used to using knives.

I spin around to face the target – those colourful rings still pulling me in and making me feel dizzy. The rest of the world lurches disconcertingly as I focus on the target. Then, I pull back my arm and hurl the knife at the target.

Fire Girl gasps in astonishment as it sticks right in the tiny red centre of the target and she grins at me in approval. I'm not too sure what she's so impressed about; I mean, it was a big target and I'm more than used to being able to hit tiny tree stumps with knives like this one.

My eyes flicker back over to the mesmerising rings of colour. "Can you do that again?" Fire Girl demands eagerly.

I nod my head, "of course," I tell her brightly, "It's really not that hard." I'm not too sure why she's insisting on hanging around me. I'm not a person who makes friends all that easily and there's certainly no point in trying too hard right now.

I'm still not entirely sure what the concept of the Hunger Games really is, but I'm certain that I heard the word 'killing' mentioned somewhere in the explanation and I don't really think that's the best environment to try and be forging friendships in.

I tilt my head sideways and survey the station, "don't you think they look like eyes?" I ask Fire Girl, gesturing towards the two targets and envisaging them on a huge fanged monster. Garnet once sketched a picture of a 'sea serpent' that had eyes just like this.

Wide, hypnotising eyes that try to drag you in.

I shake my head to distract myself from thinking like this.

Fire Girl is stuttering nervously, clearly completely confused by what I've just said to her. However, the little sparrow-like girl who has just come over to join us smiles as me widely. "I see, they could be eyes. And that knife stand could be the nose."

So it could, I hadn't noticed that before. Of course, the addition of the nose makes the creature in my head look more friendly than scary. But maybe that's better. I don't need anything else to scare me in this place.

I'm already making a list of the scary things that I've seen since I arrived at the Capitol:

- The fanged monster with hypnotic eyes. Although maybe that should be taken off the list now that it turns out not to be scary at all.

- My stylist who has whiskers. At first I thought it looked quite interesting. But there was something about her movements that was all together too feline. She's a human.

- The cat who I spotted wandering the Capitol streets. It had a definite look of my stylist about it, and I wondered if it was actually her. Checking up on me to make sure that I hadn't ruined her costume. Which I had, of course.

- The boy from District 4. Because he kind of reminds me of my father. With the blond hair, and now I can't look him in the eye. Not that I would be able to anyway; he's pretty huge.

And that's all. It's not too long a list, all things considered. Right now I'm more scared about what's actually going to happen once we get into the arena.

"So," Fire Girl stutters nervously, bringing me back to the present with a jolt, "we're allies now, right?"

I glance over at her in confusion. Firstly, I don't understand why she would want to ally with anyone; I've seen people dividing themselves up into groups for the past few days and it's setting my nerves on edge. Secondly, why would she want to ally with me? I've seen the looks that the other tributes have been giving me. Especially that elf-like boy who was following me around yesterday. I had determinedly kept my mouth zipped tightly shut to avoid giving him the satisfaction of being able to laugh at me.

I get distracted for a moment considering the idea of what it would be like to actually have a zip for a mouth. Zip lips. I think how much Garnet would've appreciated being able to just zip up my mouth whenever I started talking.

I don't realise that I've laughed out loud at the image of myself with zips for lips until I spot Fire Girl and Sparrow watching me with puzzled expressions on their faces.

I try and think back to what Fire Girl had asked me before the image of a metal mouth had taken over my mind. "Umm," I falter slightly, my eyes flickering between them as I desperately cast my mind back.

Sparrow gives a chirpy laugh and says, "Allies, or not?"

Oh, that's right. Fire Girl had asked me if I'd wanted to team up with the pair of them.

Fire Girl and Sparrow; I wonder what my name will be if I decide to ally with them. I'm just not sure if it's that good of an idea. I guess it would be good to have some company in that arena though, and I don't think that I care that much about either of them that I wouldn't be able to kill them if push came to shove.

I shrug, "I'm in, I guess."

I push my dark hair out from my eyes and watch my new allies as they try to decide whether they just made a good decision or not. They were probably hoping that I would say no.

I turn away, and dance off in the direction of the camouflage station where the girl from District 12 is standing. She smiles at me sweetly as I approach and stare in amazement at rainbow of coloured paints that are presented before me. "I'm Rivka," she tells me, extending her hand like she expects something from me.

Something about the gesture rings a bell in my memory; something that I remember vaguely from my past perhaps. But I can't quite work out what I'm supposed to do. I stare back at her blankly, my eyes flickering from her hand to her face, and then back again.

"You're supposed to shake it," she says patiently, and I can hear the smile within her voice.

I extend my hand warily, and she grips it tightly with her own. "I'm Flint," I tell her suddenly, because I realise that I haven't offered my name yet. Names aren't really my strong point, hence Fire Girl and Sparrow. Even though I know that they've both told me their names.

Already my concentration is waning, and I'm finding it hard to remember what she said her name was.

I dip my fingertips into the dark green paste that sits on the station. I smile as I swirl my fingers around in it, and I can almost picture the trees of the forest back home.

The girl beside my sticks her hand into a bowl of bright red berry juice and I glance up at her, astonished by the way in which the juice stains her hand bright red.

"The stuff that Olive fell into yesterday still hasn't washed off," she tells me, also staring at her hand with deep thoughtful eyes, "so I thought it might come in useful in the arena. If it's that long lasting. But then I doubt there will be that many places which are bright red once we get into the arena."

I giggle as I consider the idea of being thrust into a completely red arena. The trees would be red. The animals would be red.

Red.

The colour suddenly fills up my vision and I can feel my heart pumping violently within my chest.

Red; the colour of Fire Girl's hair.

Red; the fire that licked its way into my house. The fire that destroyed my home.

Red; blood. The time I cut my knee open. The time my father hit my mum so hard that blood trickled from her nose.

Red; arena.

The whole world has gone red and I can't breathe.

It's taking over my mind, and staining the whole world scarlet.

My feet take off before I can do anything to stop them and I'm sprinting to the door of the training centre.

I need to get out of this windowless room before it completely fills up with red.

Before I drown in it.

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