It was just a dream. A nightmare. Cato would never do that to me. If he was going to kill me, he would make it quick. Painless. But still. How could I have been so weak. Even if it was just a dream. A nightmare. I can't afford to be weak. Ever. I have to be Strong. It's the only way. I go to the window in the room and draw back the curtains. It's still night. I go back in the bed and lay on my side. I run my fingers along the right side of my back looking for my scar, but I can't find it. Bastards must have got rid of it. Fucking bastards. It was about the length of maybe two of my fingers, starting close to my spine, but straying away. Cato's. From one of times we fucked. He has, or had, a matching one on his back, beneath his shoulder. The other afflictions we had given each other healed without a trace. I give up on trying to find the scar and lay in the bed until I fall back to sleep.

This time I wake without a nightmare to assist me. The curtains are still drawn from last night and I can tell it's early morning. I go the dining room, still in the green tanktop and black shorts. Unlike yesterday, the dining room already has some life when I enter. Brutus and Enobaria are eating and talking strategy. From what I can tell, they are deciding what the best effective way to use the future sponserships would be. I grab a plate and fill it with ham, eggs, and waffles. I sit down and begin eating. Mace Medallion saunters in with Cato close behind. We eat in silence, except for Mace's occassional outburst reminding us of our training at ten. Once I finish eating, Brutus tells Cato something, and I'm sure he wants me to hear it also, so I stop. "Remember to get your alliance together today." After I'm sure Brutus doesn't have anything more to say, I head back to the room I was assigned.

I put my hair back in a ponytail and brush my teeth. A thought occurs to me. What if my knives were placed in the nightstand's drawer. I stride over and check. Nothing. I laugh silently at myself. I'm not even allowed a lamp, why would they let me keep a knife? Disappointing, but true. I decide to just wear the shorts and tanktop I'm already wearing to training. I'm eager to train, though I would prefer if there was something to kill. I need blood. Badly. But I'll have to wait until the Games begin. Praticing with knives and killer weapons is fantastic, though. So it'll do. For Now.

Cato meets up with me at the elevator. He is wearing a red tanktop that works well with his muscles and black shorts. The elevator stops, opens, and we step in. There are already other tributes on the elevator. Rush and Morgan from District 4 and four others. I don't know what districts they are from. We ride the elevator down to the training rooms in silence. The elevator stops and opens, and we step out. We are the first ones to arrive. A 2 is pinned to my back. The district numbers for the others are pinned on their backs also. Now I know that the other four are from Districts 9 and 5. Cato and I walk to the tributes from Four.

"Sup," says Cato. Rush quickly replies "Sup" in return.

"I'm Cato and this," starts Cato, but I interrupt him quickly, I can speak for myself.

"I'm Clove."

Cato continues as if nothing happened, "You two interested in an alliance?"

"I'm in," both Rush and Morgan reply immediately.

"Good," states Cato. "I'm going to ask District 1 also. And maybe that guy from Eleven."

"Sounds good to me," comments Morgan. "Oh, they're here."

I turn my head towards the elevator and there they are. District 1. The sparkling fairy prince and princess of last night. They don't look so horribly pathetic today. No, now they look like they would be ready to go into the arena, not like they're ready to go to a ball. I still could take them. Easily. I walk with Cato over to them and invite them into our alliance with Four. They accept. Since other tributes are forming a circle around the head trainer we join in.

District 12 arrives in the nick of time. Wearing the same outfits. Sorry, but no, this is not a team game, this is a game where only one can win. Not both. The head trainer introduces herself as Atala. Atala goes on to explain how the training sessions work and what stations there are. As soon as we are free to train I peel off and head straight to the knife throwing station. The trainer is about to explain how to throw knives, but I just ignore him, pick up five and toss them right into the 'hearts' of the dummies. "Excellent," I hear him say. I pick up more and toss them as well, head shots this time. I get lost in the Art. It's not until all the knives are lodged into the dummies that I stop. "You have quite the aim," praises the trainer. I walk away from the station and find myself at the sword station. Cato is throwing spears with Marvel. Rush and Morgan are with the nets, and I don't know where the hell Glimmer is. I notice Twelve's tributes are at the camouflage station. Pathetic. After praticing my swordsmanship for a half hour, we are sent out for lunch.

At lunch our alliance sits together. We decide that we want the guy from District 11 in our alliance. Thresh I hear someone call him. Oh, how I can't wait to watch his blood ooze out. I want to be the one to kill him when the time comes. A lot of our other conversations are just us being narcissists talking up our strengths. After lunch we continue training. The knives have been restocked so I dance with them. I'm caught in the Art. After that I pratice sparring and run through the obstacle course. Before I can go to another station, we are sent out and back to our floors. Back on floor 2, I go and eat dinner. Enobaria, Brutus, and Mace are waiting for us. Enobaria and Brutus ask us how it went, Brutus curious to know if the alliance is together. Which it is, though Thresh declined. Silly boy. As we eat they tell us that we should stop by the plant station at some point, just in case we need the knowledge later. Also that we should learn snares. Just in case. But other than that to continue intimidating our competition. Striking fear into others. Something I enjoy doing.

Back in my room I take a shower and put on another tanktop, this time a navy blue, and another pair of black shorts. It's still early, but I don't want to leave my room and run the risk of running into Cato. So, I stay put and try imagining myself sadistically murdering him again. It's not a Fav Five of mine, but it's needed. Required. I have to kill him. I cannot die. I have to Win. During the task of sadistically murdering Cato in my imagination, my mind flicks to last night when the insanity overtook him briefly. What if that happens in the arena? Will I be the only one to try and calm him? Am I the only one who can? I can't think of anyone who has tried. They've provoked him. Made it worse. I guess I'll have to protect him. He needs me. If he attacks another one of the others, I'll have to take his side. Kill them before they can kill him. And me. I made a deal. I will adhere to that deal.

CATO'S POV

I want to go and see Clove again, but I can't. I can't make it harder for her, that is, if it will even be hard for her. Her heart is like a stone, ice is in her veins, she's cold and hard. At least that's how she was when I first met her. It seemed as if she was incapable of love, but I made her love, or the closest thing she can come to love. That's how I broke her, and I don't want to fix her, because she's better broken. But maybe I do need to fix her...

CLOVE'S POV

The next morning it's the same thing. Breakfast. Training. Lunch. Training. Dinner. Whatever. During training I make a brief stop at the plants station. Just in case. I spend the rest of the time with knives, spears, swords, and do some sparring. The only thing missing is blood. I need blood. Badly. I want to kill. But I can't. Not yet at least. During lunch we discuss a few strategic plans with our alliance, but not too much. We ARE planning on killing each other. After training is over for the day, Enobaria and Brutus ask how it went again. Brutus and Enobaria ask us questions about the other tributes, then give us tips and advice. Mace Medallion manages to stay silent for the meal while our mentors talk. I try to listen as best I can. I mean, they are talking about the Games. They are victors. And I want to Win. I will Win. But Cato's presence next to me is somewhat distracting. After dinner Cato and I speak with our mentors one-on-one. Enobaria gives me tips on how to impress the Gamemakers and get a high score. While she talks I can't help, but admire her sharp fangs with gold on the points. It looks very badass. Then again. Enobaria is Badass. Maybe I'll rip someone's throat out with my teeth in her honor. It would be nice after all. To taste that metallic blood. Maybe I'll do it in front of my alliance. Make them fear me. Once Enobaria is done talking to me, I am free to go. I am about to go to the room when I decide to check out the rooftop.

It's nice, but a bit boring. But I need the fresh air. I watch the people in their strange styles below for a moment, and then pace around the rooftop. Enobaria knows, knew, about Cato and me. Did someone else? I was going to be in the Games, no matter what. Was I put in because Cato volunteered? It was common knowledge that he would. Were they punishing me because of my father? I had one more year. I was going to volunteer. Everyone knew that. I don't blame my father. I can't. He wanted to protect me. Keep me safe. But he can't. It's up to me. It's all up to me. I will be Strong. I am Strong.

I go in the elevator and ride it back down to floor 2. When the doors open there is Cato. I walk out and he says, "Clove," so I turn around, but he quickly says, "Nevermind," and steps into the elevator.

I take a shower, put on a red tanktop, black shorts, and try to keep up my strategy. I imagine I'm sadistically murdering Cato, again. I hate it. But I got to win. And it can only make me Stronger. Cato's face is red from all the blood that flows out of the cuts I made. There's one across his forehead and two more across his cheeks. Fear is in his expression. Fear. Fear of me. His arms have gashes all over, profusely bleeding. His white shirt is drenched with his blood and sweat. His calves are cut open. Blood. It's everywhere. It's wonderful. Blood. Fear. But Cato? No. Yes. It has to be. Push through it. I use the knife I clench in my hand and drag it across his chest, cutting open his flesh, blood pouring out. He screams. Yes.