Trigger warnings: Fast fashion and mentions of animal cruelty, bullying (Cato), poisoning

Loud music sounds from the Capitol streets outside. I stumble out of my bed and pull aside the curtain. Throngs of Capitol people in garish costumes are walking down the darkened street outside. I shut my curtain before any of them see me.

It must be the first night of the Countdown before the Hunger Games begin- where Capitol festivities are livestreamed into the Districts for five days straight. I grab some tissue from my bathroom, wedge it in my ears and bury my head with my pillow and duvet. Still the music is too loud.

In my brief snatches of sleep, my visions are filled with Arion staring at me betrayed, Clove and Cato discussing how best to kill me, and Finch cackling madly whilst I scream at her to stop.

When Gwen knocks on my door, telling me it's time to get up, I feel like a zombie, shuffling my feet towards the Dining Room in search of something to eat. Thankfully, the others look tired too, with Cashmere draining a whole mug of coffee before she can even say hello.

Only Marvel looks like he's got any sleep. His blue eyes are almost twinkling as he enters beaming into the room, and even in training gear, he looks handsome. I turn away and grab a breakfast roll and an apple before he can see me flush.

We eat in silence, and it's only as we get up to go and the others head out the room, that Gwen takes my arm.

Pulling me in close, she murmurs, "I'll take you to the party after training. Don't forget, and remember: best behaviour!"

"I will," I smile sweetly, "I'm really looking forward to it!"

At training, Cato and Clove are surlier than normal and I manage to stay clear of them for most the morning until we're sat together for lunch.

"Did anyone hear the music last night?" Marina asks as we dig into a selection of pies and roasted vegetables.

"I did!" Murdoch says excitedly, "It was super loud. I think they had speakers or something. We never had anything like that in District Four."

"No," Marina agrees.

"We normally have violins or flutes, and they play some really cool sea shanties, but other times they-"

"Shut up," Cato growls, "No one asked."

Murdoch looks stunned, "But-"

"Shut up."

Murdoch glances at Marina and shuffles closer to her, whilst she glares at Cato thunderously.

"Got something to say, Marina?" Clove asks softly.

"I think we should get the boy from District Eleven to join our group." We all turn to stare at Marvel, who's cheerfully eating some carrots. He looks up at us, "What?"

"Nothing," Cato smiles, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder, "That's a great idea, Marvel. He'd make a good ally...unlike others." He smirks at Murdoch who flushes, "I'll go ask him now."

We all watch as Cato gets to his feet and swaggers over to where Thresh is sitting with his district partner, Rue. Although we can't hear it, their conversation is brief. Cato says a lot; Thresh responds with one word. Cato returns to our table, murderous. His fist slams by his plate as he sits down, sending his drink flying.

"He refused." He doesn't seem to believe it.

"Then we kill him," I say.

Cato nods, "He'll be the first to die in the arena."

After lunch, Cato heads straight over to the sword station to take out some of his anger on one of the trainers. I head over to the fire station, and attempt again to create a fire. I'm there for some minutes furiously rubbing together some stupid sticks, but nothing seems to catch.

"It doesn't work like that," A voice says. A brown haired girl with '8' on her top stands over where I'm crouched. I don't remember her name. She takes the sticks from my hand and picks up a piece of stone. It takes her a few tries but within seconds of rubbing them together, she gets a spark, and then a flame.

"You're good."

She shrugs, "Fire's what gets us through the winter." She reaches out a hand, "I'm Tas."

Tasmin. That's it.

I take it. "Glimmer."

"I know," She grins, "You're the only Career who's spoken to the other tributes. Saw you talkin' to that District 5 girl. Gotta say, you seemed happier with her than the District 2 lot. They look like they wanna kill you."

"They do."

"So why're you with 'em?"

"Better with them than not, right?"

She smirks, "So you've got a plan. And I think I know what it is. You're planning on killin' 'em all. When the time's right. And to do that you'll need the scarier kids taken out."

"Maybe."

"Not, maybe. Definitely." She brandishes the sharp stone in her hand, "And I can help. I'll take you to them."

I narrow my eyes, "How do you mean?"

A grin spreads across her face, wolf-like, "Give me the names of who you want dead, and when I see 'em, I'll light a fire."

"That seems a good way to get yourself killed."

"I'm a fast runner. And it's a better plan than any. 'Sides for all you know, I could be leading you to a trap."

"True," I concede, I assess her with new eyes. She's stocky with long legs. Like she says, she could move quick. Speed can be deceptive, though. She's likely tricking me but what's the harm in playing along?

"I'll think it over," I tell her.

                                                                                                     ***

Cashmere and Gloss wait for me and Marvel in the District One compound, after training.

"So, training is done," Gloss says, patting Marvel on the back, "Next is the training session tomorrow night. Impress the Gamemakers with all your skills, and you'll stand a good chance of getting the best sponsors."

We nod, and tired, I head towards my room. It's not until I've closed the door behind me and am halfway to my bed, that I realise that someone else is in my room. Finch stands in the corner, her face half-obscured by the fading light coming through my curtains.

"You came," I smile.

"Yeah," Her green eyes flicker around the room, cautious.

"Did you come through the window?" I ask, as I head over to the bed.

She moves to give me space, her footsteps silent. "No, just walked down the corridor from the lift."

"No one saw you?"

She shakes her head. Impressive.

I dig out the dress from under the bed and pull it out.

"Put this on."

She takes it and holds it up, gingerly like it might explode. It's slightly too long for her, but it will do.

"What animal is this supposed to be?"

I wince, "A fox."

"Oh," She sounds disappointed, "What are you going as?"

I open my wardrobe, pulling out my feathered suit, "A bird of some kind."

Her eyes run over it, "It looks like a pigeon."

I laugh and hold it up, "It does, doesn't it?"

We glance at each other, awkward. Then Finch says, "I'll change in your bathroom. Don't come in until I'm done."

"Don't come out until I'm done," I retort with a smile.

"Hah!" She slips in the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

As quick as I can, I slip out of my training clothes and into the white suit. The feathers make me sneeze and I wonder what poor bird they've plucked them off to sew them onto the suit. Finally, I lift up the headpiece, the white mask sliding over my nose and upper face, leaving just my eyes and mouth visible. Feathers fall down my back, covering my hair.

I twist my face from side to side. It's heavy, but at least I can see and move.

"Done!" I call, tucking my golden hairpin into my suit pocket.

After a few minutes, the door unlocks and Finch steps out. Like mine, her mask covers most of her face, with the fabric twisting to form fox's ears at the top. Her orange gown flows down to her ankles.

She stares at me with distaste, "You look ridiculous."

"You look worse," I return.

The corners of her mouth uptilt, and I count it as a victory.

Gwen knocks on the door some minutes later. Finch darts into the bathroom just as I let Gwen inside. She's dressed in a born corset with a pinked up nose with fake brown and white spikes threading through her wig of brown hair and costume. She's scratching her neck and sides but stops when she sees me watching.

"Come along, dear." She says, irritable, "And, remember, it's a huge honour for you to be going. Just take it all in and don't say anything."

Dramatic pauses separate her last three words and she shoots me another look before leading us down the corridor. I follow in silence as she leads me out of the Tribute Centre and into the Capitol street. It's bustling with people, all dressed up in different costumes and I have to dart and push around them to keep up to Gwen.

Most of the people are congregating in the square outside the President's Mansion, where loud jaunty music I don't recognise is playing. There's a large billboard flicking through our Tribute Parade costumes. Beside them are numbers. Rue, the girl from Eleven, is marked as 30-1. Odds. I turn away before I can see mine.

The President's Mansion appears blood red, stained by the glow from the lights in the Capitol street and the party within. A guard, stamping her feet to stave off the cold, checks Gwen's tickets, gives me a glance, and waves me through.

We enter a hallway and then into a room that appears to be an atrium, straight out of a history textbook. Dancers swirl on the floor whilst others stand laughing, idly eating things oof silver plates proffered by silent servants.

And the food...there's so many dishes spread going out over several tables. Half-eaten plates lie around, discarded.

"Well," Gwen says brightly, "This is where I'll leave you. Be sure to meet back here in an hour."

She disappears into the crowd, and I gaze around ,wondering how I'm going to find President Snow in all this. There's a flicker of orange fabric and I see that Finch has come to stand beside me. I raise an eyebrow and she smirks.

"Was security that lax?" I whisper. She only shrugs in response and I glance around at the multitude of Capitol people that have come for the party. Have any of them got in without an invitation like Finch?

"Don't stare too much," Finch murmurs, "People will notice."

"Right." I run my sweaty palms over the folds of my suit, "Like you've been to parties like this often."

She smiles with that lip-smirk of hers again, "A few. It's amazing what rich Mayors and Peacekeepers will leave lying around. Though of course, the ones I attended were never on this scale."

She raises her head, glancing wistfully at the massive golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"Don't get distracted," I chide.

She huffs, "Easy for you to say, Princess. You probably grew up on stuff like this."

I ignore her, "Where should we start? You go left and I go right?"

"Sounds good to me."

She vanishes before my eyes can track her.

It's disorientating trying to find my way through the brightly dressed people and loud blaring music. Gwen was right- this is nothing like Festival Day in District One. I spot an Avox carrying am empty tray and I follow them out of the heaving room and into the relative quiet of a nearby corridor. Their walk is quick and resolute and it's hard pretending to be casual whilst also attempting to keep up.

The Avox slips around a corner and goes through some double doors. As the doors open and close, I'm hit with the strong smell of frying meats and sauces. The doors swing open again and I duck around the wall to watch. An Avox comes out, holding the doors open whilst several others walk through bearing trays and plates. They communicate to each other through gestures, figures moving so fast that I don't have time to try and discern their meanings before they walk in my direction.

I watch as they move closer. Each tray they are carrying is labelled with a sign. The first one reads 'Dining Room, Table 3', but the two behind them are marked with 'Snow', the first carrying food, the second goblets. My hands tremble as I reach for my hairpin in my suit pocket. Taking a breath, I round the corner walking into the Avoxes.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" I say, as they freeze. I reach to steady the one carrying the drinks, "I'm looking for the bathroom. Do you know where it is?"

The Avox I'm in front of me stares up at me, blue eyes irritated. The others continue walking, swerving round us like a tide. In the confusion, I twist my hairpin, the stored liquid splashing into one of the drinks. At the sound, the Avox looks down, confused, but I've already slipped the hairpin down my sleeve.

"It's okay," I smile encouragingly, "I'll find it myself. You get on with whatever it is you're doing."

They roll their eyes and yank their tray from my grip. I watch as they head down the corridor and wipe my sweaty palms on my suit.

It's only when I look up that I spot a black sphere high on the wall at the end of the corridor.

A security camera.