Chapter 4

I was hustled onto the stage. My mother and Primrose were crying, weak, so weak. This was my glory, not theirs. No tears should have been shed. I sensed the male tribute was on the stage by me. Peeta Mellark, the baker's son. The boy who cried at getting the lowest mark in the class on the test he thought he would surely win. The boy, who thought he could get any girl, yet had neither the courage nor respect. Oh, how I am going to enjoy killing him, slowly, painfully. Just what he'd deserve. Maybe I'll taunt him to his last moment; give him that glimmer of hope, that he would live, and then cut him down as he runs. I smirked, he has no idea.

After pointless farewells; for I already knew I was coming back, as much as I desire to stay in the Hunger Games, it'll be over so quickly and I'll be the victor, returning to the home district; I stepped up onto the train and immediately abandoned my fellow passengers, opting for the seclusion of my cabin. My only regret was they took away my knives as I came on board the train. The looks of surprise, apprehension and weakness were evident on their faces, even the drunk mentor's. They should have known better, I was never without my beloved knives, ever. They'd served me faithfully in the past, those knives. Now in the space of days I would have to become used to weapons with new and completely different temperaments than those hidden in a log in the woods. Once my time to train finishes, I'll be launched into the arena, into a fight for my survival.

As the day went by, more tributes arrived. A small girl from 11, a young boy from 10; I classed neither as threats, though with how the girl came across, she has the cunning for sure. From 7 a muscular male; once again, not a threat, lumberjack maybe, but definitely not a threat; I am certain he has no knowledge of survival, he tried to fight with the boy from 9 in hand to hand combat, yet he lost rather spectacularly, and was humiliated by his escort and mentor. The girl from 5, I immediately classed a threat. I had seen a flash of her reaping as she climbed on board; I believe I was the only one to have seen the malicious smirk on her face. There was something about her that screamed danger concealed, no ally of hers would survive. Yet, I could not dwell on the threat she posed for long, as we drew up to the career districts. 4, 2 and 1. From 4, only the girl looked slightly like she may be useful, she wielded her knife fairly well in the training cart before we arrived at 2. She'd headed straight there, so she must be looking to join the alliance. Her social skills would be lacking however, she became a recluse as soon as 2 climbed on board. The boy looked too weak, too scared, too vulnerable to survive more than ten minutes into the Games. He would have no chance of being in the alliance, no career would accept him. The tributes from 3 knew how to work electronics; all from 3 were trained in engineering and electronics from an early age; yet the girl looked as if she may be able to wield weapons better than the boy.

My attention peaked when we stopped at 2. Both from the district had volunteered, the only volunteers beside myself. The girl, Clove, was small, yet had a sadistic smirk on her face. The boy, Cato, was tall and muscular, and was grinning openly. Threats. The only thing they could be classified by. There was no way someone would survive if they angered them. Though, it might be fun to try. An alliance with them would ensure a higher rate of survival, and more weapons to play with, yet fewer tributes to kill. Yet, I may have a chance to branch off and kill some tributes before re-joining the Alliance. All this was thought and calculated in a couple of seconds, as my mouth turned into a malicious smirk and I felt Mellark shudder beside me. Mellark would be mine to kill, I was certain about that. And in the end, Cato and Clove, my two biggest threats, would also die by my hand and my hand alone. There was no way I would let another kill the two that had the most potential to kill me. My eyes caught Clove's as 2 caught up on the reapings. Hers narrowed, her hands clenching round the knife in her hand. I shrugged and turned away, dismissing her. Behind me I heard 2 speak in furious whispers. They must have seen my reaping then, as Cato immediately started to call 12 this year a potential enemy. Not once did they talk about an alliance with us. That, eventually, would be their downfall. The longer they leave approaching me, the less 'loyalty' I will hold towards them. If they leave it too late, I'll kill them the first chance I get, instead of the original plan where they die last, slowly and painfully.

Finally, District 1 arrived. These two would be so easy to underestimate. Mellark, at the sight of the girl, sighed dreamily. Loverboy eh? This would make for interesting entertainment. Both may have what could be classed as looks, but they were from a career district. Neither were volunteers, but I was certain they both knew how to handle a weapon or two, and that immediately made them threats. Especially since 1 headed straight towards 2. Alliance with 1 and 2? May work out, though I would most likely kill 1 quickly, unless they prove useful. I would just have to wait and determine their strengths.

The drunk attempted to talk to me about tactics; I presumed he had already spoken to Mellark about them; he had come out of Mellark's cabin looking like the cat that got the cream, he surely has to have concocted a plan involving me and District 12's Loverboy. It was unfortunate that he was the only mentor for 12; he had no chance of getting me to go along with these tactics. I make my own way; I bring honour to myself and only myself. Finally, after his excessive talk had gone on for too long and my restraint broke, I flung the nearest knife at his head; it was only due to reflex he got out of the way – he had been the winner of the 2nd Quarter Quell due to his cunning and reflexes. The whole carriage had gone silent, until Clove whistled. The shot had been accurate. Then chaos started; I smirked, all this because of one knife. Think what could happen with poison darts, or with my precious bow and arrows. I retreated to the training cart, sensing 2 following me.