Katniss

I'm alone in the knot tying station, on occasion though, I feel the eyes of Peeta on me. Sometimes little Rue also watches me. It's not too hard to tell which one it is, whoever looks away the quickest when I glance up.

I'm tempted to usher Rue over a few times, teach her something about knots or which plants are edible and which will kill you in a second. It's tempting enough that a few times, I feel my fingers twitch and my arm shake as I halt it from making the gesture. I know the moment I speak to her I won't be able to contemplate her in the arena, that I'll do anything to save her. That is the moment I lose my chance of going back to Prim and the moment my fate is sealed.

I watch the others, but most of the Tributes are sticking to the survival stations while the Careers hog the weapons. Again I feel temptation, wanting to venture out and shoot with one of the bows, perhaps sample the knife selection.

I can hear Haymitch's speech in my head though, urging me to keep any talent I have a secret.

I know he is right, but what I would give to have the room to myself for just a moment!

Anyway, the District Seven girl shyly takes a seat opposite of me and begins her lesson on knots. Her fingers are clumsy and she continues to mess up her work, frustrating the instructor and myself. Wordlessly, I excuse myself to the camouflage station.

For a moment I believe there is a log covering Peeta's arm, it's only when I'm closer that I realize it is paint. Mystified and before I think, I ask him how he does it.

"I do the icing. For the cakes in the bakery."

"Hmm."

I pick up a brush and begin to draw small patterns on my arms, though they are nowhere near the level Peeta is. Not even close, as a matter of fact.

He smiles at me, dipping his brush in water and ridding it of the paint it once carried, he then moves closer to me and gets the same color I was using, applying it to my arm and putting a fresh coat over my pitiful attempt at camouflage.

He scribbles a bit, and suddenly my arm is obscured by blades of grass.

"That's amazing Peeta."

He shrug, suddenly modest.

"It's not so hard."

I shake my head, still impressed by his work. "What are you talking about? This," I hold my arm up, "is incredible."

"You think?" He asks slowly.

I nod in earnest.

He smiles.

I smile.

And it's all too friendly for me.

Do I really need a reminder (besides being in the Capitol) that I will have to kill this boy soon?

Suddenly my smile is gone and I turn, once again without a proper reason.

I find the closest bathroom before plunging my arm beneath the faucet, allowing the water to turn green as the paint swirls down the drain and disappears completely.