The story of Cashmere and Gloss. Because they were victims too.


Cashmere stood in the city square in District 1, staring at the wide screen the Hunger Games were showing on. She counted down the remaining seconds in her head, watching the tributes on their platforms. The gong sounded, and they took off running to the Cornucopia.

"Which one's your brother?" an older lady, Mrs. Brummel, asked.

Cashmere searched the screen for him. "There. He just picked up a sword."

Mrs. Brummel looked at the screen along with Cashmere. "Gloss is quite the strong kid, isn't he?" she asked.

"He is, Mrs. Brummel, but he wouldn't like you calling him a kid. He's eighteen. It was his turn to volunteer this year."

"It was? Your family must be so proud!"

"We are, but we're also worried for him."

"Oh, of course. Who wouldn't be scared for their child in such a situation, even if it is an honor. My son was in the Hunger Games when he was Gloss's age. He made it to the top four." The woman's face turned sad. "He wasn't expecting his district partner to betray him."

Cashmere nodded nervously. Now she was even more worried about her brother's safety.

During the Hunger Games, students at the training academy only had to attend for half the day; the remaining time was to be spent watching the Games at home. Cashmere turned on the TV and hoped Gloss would be on. That would mean he was still alive. She need not have worried. Gloss was still going strong, along with the rest of the Career pack. She suspected that he would strike out on his own before long, though. He had always been a lone wolf at heart; the only person he was really close with was her, his sister. There were two years between them, but people often assumed they were twins. They were in the same class at the Academy, and they always trained together.


Gloss made it the whole way through. He overpowered his opponent in the finale and Cashmere cheered when he was announced the victor of the 63rd annual Hunger Games. She knew there would be a big celebration when he returned to District 1; it would probably last a week.

Indeed, there was a big district-wide party. Even though Gloss was the center of attention, Cashmere found it difficult to have five minutes alone with him. There was always an escort at his side, or someone who wanted his autograph. Cashmere found herself getting jealous.

After the festivities finally died down, she ripped into her brother. "What's the matter with you? You win the Hunger Games and now you're Panem's darling and can't even talk to your sister for five minutes! I don't want this victor status to get to your head!"

Gloss squeezed her shoulder. "Believe me, I don't want to either. But there's a lot of pressure that's put on winners of the Games to be perfect. I don't know if you understand. The only real way to know what a victor experiences is to win the Games yourself."

How right Gloss was, Cashmere would muse years later, when she herself was caught in the throes of fame. She would discover exactly what he meant in due time.


The next year, Cashmere stood with the other seventeen-year-old girls at the reaping. She looked over at Sapphira Lansing, the designated female volunteer for this year. The other girl kept her gaze trained on the escort from the Capitol as she dug through the reaping ball in search of a name. The escort drew out a card and read the name: "Cashmere Winters!"

Cashmere wasn't worried. She knew Sapphira was going to volunteer as tribute. But as the seconds ticked by, she never spoke up.

The Capitol woman was growing impatient. "Cashmere Winters, please come up to the stage!"

Trembling with nervousness and burning with anger at the same time, Cashmere dutifully walked up to the escort's side. She simmered as she thought about the position Sapphira had left her in.

As soon as the reaping ceremony was over, Cashmere found Sapphira and cornered her. "What is your problem?" She shouted, not even realizing how close she was getting to the other girl's face as she ranted. "It was your turn to volunteer this year, and you backed out! Is it because my name was called or something?"

"Yes, actually," Sapphira replied meekly. "Your brother won the Games last year, so you'd be more popular with the people watching."

"Sapphira's right," Lapis, a trainer at the Academy, put in. "You're Gloss's sister! You'll be favorite to win the Games! Just think of the sponsors you'll get! Last year's Gloss fans will be this year's Cashmere fans!"

Cashmere was skeptical, but she wondered if there was some merit to Lapis's words.


She discovered just how hungry the Capitol was for entertainment when the train pulled into the station. People were already murmuring her name as if she was the winner. Maybe she could play this sibling drama thing to her advantage.

For the chariot entrance, she was dressed in a bodysuit encrusted with gems. The audience was cheering and applauding for her. The roar of appreciation from the crowd filled Cashmere's ears. They threw individual flowers and even whole bouquets of roses down at her. She managed to catch one, and she held it high as the crowd went wild.

Training was a snap. Her mentor, Glaucia, asked her what her interview angle was going to be. The answer to that question was simple. It had pretty much been decided for her at the reaping. Cashmere spent her time onstage with Caesar Flickerman selling herself as Gloss's beautiful, capable sister. She was stunning in her interview outfit: an off-shoulder scarlet and purple dress. Her creamy blonde hair was fancifully done in an elegant chignon. She shamelessly mooched off her brother's victory to earn herself favor with sponsors. "Gloss is powerful, but I'm skilled. His weakness is my strength."

If people were whispering her name before her interview, now they were shouting it.


Cashmere was in the tubes, rising up to the arena of the 64th annual Hunger Games. She frowned as she looked at the terrain. Thorns everywhere, and the only cover was a briar patch leading to a forest of thorny trees. She hoped her shoes would hold up.

As soon as the gong sounded, Cashmere ran to the Cornucopia, trying to avoid the worst of the thorns. She quickly found some knives, a water bottle, and a backpack. She soon found herself surrounded by other tributes scrambling for supplies. She used her knife to take many of them down.

One girl proved to be more of a challenge than Cashmere had assumed at first. The girl was from District 7, and was charging at her with an axe. Cashmere ran as fast as she could toward the briar patch, her only hope of escape. She dropped to the ground and crawled on her hands and knees into the tunnel of thorns. She could practically feel the other girl's hot breath down her neck, but she dared not turn her head to look.

Then her ponytail snagged on the thorny branches. She tugged, but she couldn't get it free. She had to resort to slowly working it free.

But she didn't have the time for this. The District 7 female was nearly upon her. Cashmere was at the end of her rope. Running out of any other options, she took her knife and chopped her ponytail off. Now free, she quickly squirmed the rest of the way through the tunnel, just as the other girl brought down her axe. Cashmere dodged the heavy blade and scooted further into the briar.

When she was deep enough in, she stood up and looked around her. The rest of the Careers were nowhere to be seen, but she could hear their voices. They were laughing. "Did you see the way Blondie was running for her life?"

"I've never seen such a scaredy cat! Good work with that axe, Juniper."

"I missed, though. I almost had her! She was caught in the brambles, and cut off her hair to escape! Not so pretty anymore, I guess. Serves her right. All she did during her interview was preen."

With tears welling up in her eyes, Cashmere understood what had happened. The Careers had decided to turn on her, and in her place had recruited the District 7 girl—-Juniper. The people Cashmere had thought were her allies had betrayed her. She was on her own now.


A Career separated from their pack was nothing more than a helpless tribute, as Cashmere quickly learned. She was able to find water, but she had no food and no weapons besides her knives. By the third day, she was desperate enough to eat roots and acorns. She ate whatever she could whenever she could. She never knew when she would get the chance to eat like she did back home in District 1 again. She figured she was a disgrace to her parents and anyone who wanted to sponsor her.

One day, Cashmere struck figurative gold. She found a patch of small white mushrooms. She picked a handful and popped them into her mouth. They tasted bitter, but she wasn't going to complain.

A few hours later, Cashmere was doubled over in pain. Her stomach was cramping terribly, and soon she was writhing on the ground in agony. She realized that the mushrooms she'd eaten must have been poisonous.

A parachute landed on the ground by her side. With shaking hands, she opened the container. Inside was a bottle of pink liquid. In her intoxicated state, she wondered what she was supposed to do with it. Her brain ran through her options: sniff it, rub it on her skin, or drink it? Why was she even given this bottle? What was she supposed to use it for? Maybe she should just pour it out.

Another cramp seized her, and her stomach heaved. That gave her an idea. Her stomach was hurting (why was it hurting?), so maybe she was supposed to drink the pink liquid to make her stomach feel better? She managed to open the bottle. She stared at it. What was she going to do again? The liquid inside looked soothing. Maybe she should drink it. She slowly brought it up to her lips and sipped it. She spilled some of it, but she managed to swallow most of the pink liquid. She dropped the bottle when it was empty, and it landed beside her. She stared at it dumbly. Where did that come from? That was the last thing she wondered before she lost consciousness.


When Cashmere woke up, she couldn't remember a thing. She didn't know what an empty bottle was doing next to her, or why there were half-eaten mushrooms in her bag. The mushrooms. It all started coming back to her. She immediately threw them away and started looking for other food sources.

Her steps were a little shaky. She knew it was only her access to water that had allowed her to survive this long. And when she had eaten the poisonous mushrooms…She did still have sponsors, after all. She wasn't alone.

Just then, Cashmere stepped on a large thorn. It penetrated through her shoe and stuck in her foot. She screamed and immediately sat down. She took her shoe off; her sock was already sticky with blood. She peeled it off to examine her foot. She had to get the thorn out. She tested it by pulling gently, and it was like a firework exploded inside her body. She reached for the hem of her shirt, put it in between her teeth, and bit down on it while she pulled the thorn the rest of the way out. It wasn't nearly enough to take her mind off the pain, but she had to get the thorn removed from her foot. When she finally got it out, there was a bloody hole where the thorn had been. She cut some strips from her shirt and bound her foot as best she could.

That night, Cashmere watched the sky for the faces of the deceased. It was impossible to say how many tributes had died while she was unconscious (she didn't even know how long she was out), but so far all the Careers except the District 2 female and the District 4 male were still alive. Cashmere wondered if she would be next. She still had a steady water supply, but there was still food to worry about, and sponsor gifts were getting expensive.


After a few more days, Cashmere's foot was starting to swell and turn red. It was hot to the touch, and very tender. She knew it was infected. She tried rinsing it with water every hour, but she had run out of fabric to wrap it with.

Her fever rose with each passing day. She grew so weak she couldn't crawl away from the pool of water she drank from.

On the fifth day of her fever, Cashmere heard the sound of a fight coming from outside the bramble patch. Wearily, she lifted her head and saw Juniper and the District 1 male, Jasper, battling it out. It was clear that the Games had come down to the last few competitors.

Jasper dodged Juniper's axe when she swung it, and threw his spear at her. The spearhead buried itself in the inside of her thigh. Juniper cried out in pain and yanked it out. She might have had a chance if she had left it alone, but now there was nothing stopping the flow of blood spurting from her femoral artery.

Seeing that she was near her demise, Jasper caught his breath enough to laugh tauntingly at her. That was when Juniper flung her axe at his neck, before collapsing.

The voice of Claudius Templesmith sounded over the loudspeakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the victor of the 64th annual Hunger Games: Cashmere Winters!" A hovercraft flew in to take Cashmere away. As she was lifted into the air, she looked back down at Jasper's head lying severed from his body and Juniper lying in a pool of her own blood.

Capitol doctors whisked Cashmere to the medical bay aboard the hovercraft. They gave her some sort of injection, muttering things like, "potential sepsis," and "monitor for signs of shock." Cashmere tried to stay awake for whatever they were doing to her, but the drugs were fast-working.

When she woke up again, she was alone in a hospital bed. There was a button on the wall that she could press to call a nurse, but she didn't want a nurse right now.

Cashmere got up and sat on the edge of the bed. Her infected foot had been treated with antibiotics and wrapped in gauze. There was a mirror in her room. Cashmere hobbled over to look at herself. She almost cried when she saw her reflection. In the span of a few weeks, she had gone from a healthy weight to skinny as a rail. She could literally see her bones poking through her skin underneath her hospital gown. She was covered in small scrapes, cuts, and bruises, and her once luscious blonde hair was so short it puffed out around her head like a frizzy cloud. "I marketed myself as Gloss's beautiful younger sister, and look at me now. I look like a wild thing!" she mused to herself.

She went back to her bed and endured the many weeks of Capitol medical attendants restoring her to perfect health. She had to look just the way she did before her time in the arena for her victor's interview.


Cashmere's stylists put her in a lilac dress with a keyhole neckline for her interview; the hem was lined with a sheer fabric, and was short in the front and long in the back. Caesar Flickerman welcomed her and offered her a seat on the red velvet couch. He talked with her about the highlights of the Games. Her own activities in the arena hadn't been very interesting, so he didn't spend much time on those, except for the poisonous mushroom incident.

"I seriously thought I was going to die at that point," Cashmere admitted. "I'm only here today thanks to a generous sponsor who sent me an antidote."

"Tell me, Cashmere, do you know who sent you that antidote?" Caesar asked.

Cashmere shook her head. "I don't, Caesar."

Caesar got a sly grin on his face. "Would you like to know?"

Cashmere nodded, a little uncertain of what Caesar had in mind. "Yes, I guess I would."

Caesar addressed the audience. "Let's show Cashmere who that generous sponsor was! Come on out, Mrs. Brummel!"

Out walked the kindly old lady that had talked to Cashmere during Gloss's Hunger Games! Cashmere stood up and hugged her excitedly. "It was you! You saved my life!"

The reunion between the two women was the most heartwarming part of the victor's interview that year.


Cashmere had a few more doctor's appointments to check on how her foot was healing. "Everything looks good!" the doctor pronounced. "You've healed up quite well."

"That's good news," Cashmere said.

"By the way, your hair is also making quite the comeback," the doctor commented. Indeed, Cashmere's hair had now regrown down to her shoulders. "Are you going to return it to the length it was before?"

"No, I actually like it this short," Cashmere answered. "I think I'm going to keep it this way."

"I actually wanted to talk to you about that." The doctor and Cashmere turned to look at the entrance. President Snow was standing in the doorway of the exam room.

Cashmere was stunned that he was here. No one had warned her that he was coming. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I've come to inform you that your new status as a victor is a privileged one, but it also comes with certain expectations. You have many fans who are looking forward to visits from you. There will be the victory tour, of course, but one round trip is not enough to satisfy everyone's desires, especially for a lovely lady like you. Which brings me to your expectations. The image you have with your admirers is a young woman with flowing blonde hair. Circumstances in the arena may have necessitated a haircut, but now you are under obligation to your admirers to maintain your former appearance. Long story short, I expect you to grow your hair back out."

Cashmere just nodded. What else could she do? "I understand, President Snow. I will keep my admirers in mind."

A year later, an eighteen-year-old Cashmere got to meet the admirers Snow had talked about. They weren't just admirers, they were clients. And they were demanding. The more years she was in the business, the more time Snow put on her schedule for Capitol tours. It got to the point where Cashmere had to take a break. "I need more time off. I need to be able to spend more than two weeks at a time at home."

Snow appeared to be understanding. He told Cashmere that she could take all the time she needed. But when Mrs. Brummel was found dead in her home a few weeks later, with no previous health issues to speak of, Cashmere learned that if she valued the safety of her loved ones, her schedule was non-negotiable. It was back to weeks-long stretches of sleeping in a strange man's bed every other night.


If Cashmere thought her new "business" was bad, mentoring was a whole other kind of evil. There were many other District 1 victors in the rotation, but her turn came soon enough. Her first tribute was a girl named Scarlett. Cashmere gave her all the right tips, and Scarlett performed great in the arena, but the 70th annual Hunger Games eventually took an unexpected turn. A dam broke, and most of the tributes died in the ensuing tsunami, including Scarlett.

Cashmere broke down and wouldn't let herself be consoled. She had been directly invested in Scarlett's training, and in the end, all she could do was stand by and watch as the girl lost her life.

At first, it looked like the tsunami had wiped out all the remaining tributes. But no, there was a lone girl still managing to stay afloat. It couldn't be—-no way. "Is that Finnick's girl?" Cashmere asked in disbelief. Annie Cresta, the one who had endeared herself to her mentor, the charming Finnick Odair? The one who had gone insane after the death of her district partner? What irony that the one nobody had rooted for had emerged the victor.

"The Capitol won't be putting much stock into the winner this year," Finnick said. Cashmere knew there was a deeper undertone to his statement. It meant that Annie wouldn't be peddled off to any "admirers." No one would want a poor mad girl. She would be spared the fate of the most attractive victors, and for that Cashmere was grateful.


She was assigned another tribute four years later. Glimmer was gorgeous, and a little vain. She and Marvel, Gloss's tribute, had enough confidence for the whole Career pack. While Cashmere was confident in Marvel's abilities, Glimmer was worrying. She claimed to be proficient with a bow, but she rarely hit the target during training.

"As you know, the tribute interviews are tomorrow night," Cashmere told Glimmer. "Have you decided on your angle yet?"

Glimmer nodded enthusiastically. "I'm going for sexy and attractive. You should see the dress my stylist has prepared for me! It's gold, see-through, and it goes all the way to the floor!"

Cashmere just nodded and tried not to grimace. She should have known Glimmer would take that angle, but she knew all too well what happened to victors who used that angle in their interviews. But the whole point of mentoring was to help your tribute get sponsors, among other things. Cashmere was stuck being forced to agree to something she knew wouldn't end well.


Cashmere sat side-by-side with Gloss on the couch in the Tributes Tower to watch the first episode of the Games. The bloodbath had begun, and their eyes were glued to the screen. Glimmer grabbed a silver bow and quiver of arrows and a small sword and soon found herself in a battle with the District 6 male. Cashmere squeezed Gloss's hand and held her breath until she was out of danger.

Glimmer and Marvel teamed up with the tributes from District 2 and the District 4 female. The newly formed Career pack quickly ran into Peeta Mellark, who escaped being slaughtered by telling them that he would lead them to Katniss, the other half of the "star-crossed lovers."

Cashmere watched the Careers hunt down tributes like wolves in a pack. The girl from 8's last breaths were spent screaming and crying and begging for her life. Cato, the boy from 2, just laughed and slashed her neck. She bled out too slowly for him, and he ended up sending Peeta back to finish the job.

And that's when they spotted Katniss. They chased her up a tree and cornered her. The poor girl looked so frightened that Cashmere almost felt sorry for her.

Glimmer had kept a typical bloodthirsty Career attitude up to this point, but Cashmere noticed a change in her. She started speaking more flirtatiously to Cato and snuggled up to him during the night. By the looks of things, he wasn't enjoying it. It was hard to say who was more irritated by Glimmer's behavior—-Cato or his district partner, the short, brunette girl with the knives, who looked like she wanted to use them on the blonde girl. Cashmere stifled a laugh behind her hand as she watched Cato scoot away from Glimmer even as she inched closer to him.

She wasn't laughing the next time the Games were on. The Careers were being swarmed by tracker jackers. Glimmer was falling behind. She tripped and screamed for someone to help her. The insects stung her until her face and body were grotesquely swollen. Cashmere shrieked and felt like she was going to throw up, but she couldn't look away from the screen. The tracker jackers' buzzing nearly drowned out the sound of Glimmer's cannon.

Cashmere abruptly stood up and ran to the bathroom, ignoring Gloss calling after her. She shut the door and sank to the cold tile floor, hugging her knees and crying. Glimmer had been confident in herself! Even if she didn't fight very well, she was still a Career! Careers always had the best chance in the Hunger Games! And she had been the first one in the pack to die! Stung by a thousand killer wasps!

Cashmere rolled onto her side, still curled up in the fetal position. How could she have let herself lose both her tributes? What did that say about her capabilities as a mentor? Would Snow be angry at her? Would he give her more clients to make up for her poor performance with Glimmer?

Gloss knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, Cash, you alright?"

Cashmere wiped away the worst of her tears and sat up. "I will be."

"Can I come in?" Gloss asked.

"Sure," Cashmere said.

Gloss opened the bathroom door and saw her sitting on the floor. "Hey, sis, I'm sorry about Glimmer."

Cashmere drew a shaky breath. "I feel like I let her down. She's dead because I didn't prepare her enough."

Gloss nodded solemnly. "I felt the same way when my first tribute died. Every mentor feels that same guilt when their tribute doesn't make it to the end. But you can't let it consume you."

Cashmere sighed. "Okay. So what do I do now?"

"Your feelings of guilt might last a while. That's okay. What you need to do is find an outlet for your grief—-a healthy one, or you'll end up like the alcoholic from 12 or the morphlings from 6—-and remember that there's always next time. Each year is a blank slate. You'll start all over with your new tribute. Learn from your experience with Glimmer and apply what you can to your next tribute."

Cashmere smiled. "Thanks, Gloss." She gave her brother a hug.


But Cashmere would never get another chance. The Quarter Quell announcement was something she could never have been prepared for. Previous victors going into the arena meant she could be reaped again. District 1 had many victors, though, so the odds were in her favor.

On Reaping Day, she stood with all the female victors of District 1, in the front row. The escort pranced over to the reaping balls and drew out a girl's name. "Cashmere Winters."

Cashmere once again found herself in the position of being reaped with no one willing to volunteer for her. She trudged up to the stage to stand next to the escort.

If she was filled with dread at being reaped a second time was bad, her heart sank to her toes when the male's name was read. "Gloss Winters."

Cashmere was praying, Please, somebody volunteer for Gloss! Don't force me to fight my brother! But the same sibling drama that earned Cashmere sponsors in her Games influenced the victors of District 1 to keep quiet so all of Panem could see the Winters siblings at each other's throats. It made her wonder if this year's reapings were rigged.

After a few minutes, Gloss sadly met Cashmere's eyes. We're going to have to do this, his facial expression said. They shook hands. Cashmere fought the tears that were coming to her eyes.


She couldn't believe District 12's popularity. Katniss and Peeta had risen to fame during last year's Games, and pretty much all of Panem wanted them to be a couple. Katniss had even shown up for the interviews wearing a wedding dress.

Cashmere just scoffed and rolled her eyes when she saw her. "You look ridiculous." But in reality, Cashmere was jealous. Being engaged to Peeta meant that Katniss was untouchable. She would never be offered up for prostitution. Cashmere envied her pureness.

The more she thought about it, the harder it became for her to control her emotions. Gloss noticed. "Caesar Flickerman's wondering if we can be interviewed together," he said. "I told him that's a great idea. That way people can see that we are still close siblings. We're a team, no matter what." He put his arm around her shoulder.

Cashmere smiled at her brother's attempt to comfort her. He always knew what would cheer her up. "Yeah, that is a good idea. I'd like that."

She and Gloss were first. Despite her brother being there with her, she still felt so overwhelmed. She was constantly wiping away tears. "I'm sorry, I just can't stop crying! When I think about us—-you're losing two beloved victors. If this is hard for you all to watch, just imagine what my brother and I are going through!"

Gloss nodded and held Cashmere's hand. "We're not here by choice. You," he spread his arms as if to encompass the audience, "are our family. I don't see how anyone could love us better."

Their interview was a hit with the audience, but Cashmere was just glad it was over. She knew her mascara was messed up from all the crying she did.

Gloss swiped a finger across her cheek. "Your makeup's running, Cash," he chuckled.

Cashmere giggled along with him, but her mood was shattered once again when she spotted Katniss rolling her eyes at them. How could anyone think her emotions were fake? Surely Katniss of all people knew that this situation would bring tears to the eyes of even the most hardened victor.

But it didn't matter. At the end of the night, all twenty-four tributes joined hands in solidarity. They were in this together, and they would let it be known that they were not in these Games of their own volition.


In spite of the display of unity that night, all bets were off once the tributes' platforms rose to the arena. The instinct to kill or be killed came rushing back to Cashmere and the other Careers. District 4 would not be joining them this year, but maybe that was for the best. The old lady would be of no use, anyway.

Cashmere was surprised at how many tributes were already dead—-almost half by the second day. A large alliance had formed among Districts 3, 4, 7, and 12. The group was gathered on the beach in front of the Cornucopia. Wiress, the District 3 female, was just wandering around singing. Gloss saw an easy target. He crept up behind her, with his knife in hand. The rest of the group were so deep in discussion that they didn't even notice him. With one slick move, he sliced the blade across her throat. Her song immediately fell silent.

Katniss picked up on Wiress's sudden lack of song. In a flash, she drew her bow and put an arrow in Gloss's head.

Cashmere's mouth opened in a scream of grief and rage. She charged forward, knife raised, ready to avenge her brother. In her bloodlust, she failed to see Johanna Mason's axe sailing towards her chest. Cashmere and Gloss had lived for each other. Now they had died for each other.


I said this was a story about Cashmere and Gloss, but Cashmere ended up having the majority of the focus. Oh well.