Martial and Gia were sitting on the sofas watching the interviews when we entered the room and I exclaimed how I wasn't tired. They looked over at us, watching as I turned to Nero with a frustrated tug of the wig.

He brushed the fringe back and gave a testing tug which pulled at my stitches and earned a disgruntled noise from me. We retreated to his studio briefly to peel the wig from my head and clean my stitches before joining everyone at the dinner table. We watched the interviews from there, eating a three course meal in silence for the most part. By the time district ten finished their interviews, we were also done.

Lys cleared her throat, brushing down the top of her jumpsuit and looked around at us with a smile.

"Well, since that's nearly done, we best be off to liaise with sponsors. Beatrix?" Turning her head expectantly to Trix, who was sitting next to her, we watched as Trix considered the statement, as much as it had been presented as a question. This was her decided role as our mentor. The games had messed her up enough that she could barely talk strategy with us, but she was efficient enough to find sponsors for us and the interviews afterparties were the perfect place to do so.

As they prepared to leave, I wondered briefly if my token had been assessed yet, since Trix had requested our tokens on the train this morning. But there would be time to ask tomorrow.

Nero retreated to his room, but Gia spread jam onto her scone and glanced between me and Martial.

"I was thinking we could rewatch some of the last few games when Trix is gone, she's sensitive but it'll be important for you two to be prepared for anything." We nodded, taking a drink simultaneously.

I changed into cotton-soft pyjamas and, once I situated myself comfortably on the couch, Lys and Trix had left.

Cuddling a cushion against my chest, I rested my cheek against it and felt my eyes drifting shut. Martial dropped next to me in similar pyjamas and smiled kindly.

"I can't wait to go to bed," I told him, leaning my head back. He hummed, resting his arm behind his head and looking down at me with raised eyebrows. He smiled, and I think our minds both wandered back home, to sleepovers with Flo after a long day. His smile dropped when Gia came into the room in a silk jumpsuit and sat on the armchair beside us.

"We'll start with Beatrix's so we don't get caught up and she walks in on the end. Suppose you two remember watching it so we'll just watch the important bits."

For Gia, the first bloodbath of these games were unimportant. It was the same as any other, the careers took the cornucopia and half of the tributes had been killed. But, it was the second day of the games, where she stopped the tape and pressed play.

We watched Trix, hair dirty and pulled back into a ponytail, keeping watch with the male tribute from Two. She was twice the size she was today, much more confident in herself. But, as was common with the most confident of tributes, the slaughter in the opening of the games was enough to strike fear into all of the tributes. And I could see her arms trembling, not from the weight of the axe in her hand, but from the fear so plainly in her eyes. Gia informs us that throughout the first day there had been bickering among the careers, that they hadn't been able to get along in training and tensions had only grown from there. It was an alliance for the sake of an alliance and keeping an image.

I jumped when the arrow struck her district partner in the chest as I had when the games were playing live. It was unheard of for so many tributes from the other districts to form an alliance, but the ambush on the career pack was sudden and the cameras had missed most of the planning.

The arena that year had been a stone maze with twenty four zones, one being triggered each hour. The non-career tributes had learned the hard way, having picked the wrong path into the maze at the start of the games, but the careers had backseats for the first day, watching as each entrance divulged different dangers. The exit to the upper left sprouted trees from seemingly clear ground at intervals, the ground in the exit to the upper right dropped away to a snake pit and, beyond, a tribute had been blown to pieces by land mines. The bottom left exit looked like a snowy wasteland and the bottom left, much to most tributes' horror, had been activated during the bloodbath when three giant blades rose from the ground and reduced anyone in their way to pieces.

Half of the pack was sleeping, shocked awake by Trix's scream when she watched her partner drop dead next to her. She retreated into the cornucopia, blocking another arrow with the wide blade of her axe. The female tribute from one stumbled to her feet and began to run for the maze but a tribute exited from the trees. He was twice her size and caught her by the neck, squeezing the life out of her.

Trix threw her axe, implanting it in his chest and watching his body slump on top of her teammate's. The other tribute from One was yelling after the Tributes from Four who had fought their way into the maze and ran blindly.

Gathering a few materials and a knife, Trix watched her final teammate cautiously, convinced he'd attack her. And, when he ran for her, the other tributes descended on them. The camera that caught the action was on a wall of the maze and we could barely see Trix in the scuffle. It wasn't until Gia fast-forwarded to the afternoon did the cannons stop and the cameras focused on Trix running through an opening in the maze before climbing the ivy along a wall out of the way of the ground. The screen paused.

"Okay, what should you do if the pack gets ambushed or everyone starts turning on each other?" Gia relaxed in her chair, crossing one leg over the other and watching us expectantly.

I stared at the screen, at Trix's face moments before she was about to meet the girl who made the games so memorable. I couldn't shake the feeling that analysing her games was wrong.

"Well, if we get ambushed, our first aim should be to stay alive," Martial says, Gia tilts her head briefly but says nothing. "Running was the right idea, but the girl from One-"

"Was an idiot," I cut in.

"Terra!" Martial exclaims, scandalised. He'd never been one to speak ill of the dead.

"I'm not wrong. She'd had a day to observe the arena, see how the zones rotated and which route would be the safest. When she ran, she didn't even observe what dangers were around or whether the others were in a state to fight." Gia was nodding and I sat straighter, staring at the screen as I explained myself further. "If she waited a little longer, Four wouldn't have run and they would've been fit to fight. The odds dropped as soon as she stepped out of the cornucopia without assessing her surroundings. So, idiot." Martial and I looked at Gia who was nodding with an impressed smile.

"Well, it's common sense in battle strategy," she points a manicured finger at me but looks at Martial, "keep her close. She can be the reason you survive."

Despite the praise being welcome, I was starting to feel the pressure of being 'valuable' setting in. Sure, she was reassuring the alliance between Martial and I, but it was painfully clear that her bet was on me to win the game which, in the long run, meant I was Martial's opponent. I was his enemy and his best friend.

He must've been thinking the same thing because he excused himself for the night.

I hugged the pillow close, staring at the screen until Gia shut it off. She sighed, shifting in her seat and watching me intensely.

For a moment, under her intense gaze, I was forced to remember who exactly Gia was. Mostly, she was kind to us, but there was that line between tribute and mentor that was inexplicably drawn in the way she looked at us. Gia had mentored Trix, and last years' tributes, and didn't seem fond of getting attached. It was smart, really, because attachment would only bring pain. But it was dehumanising to be raised like a pig for slaughter.

"Do you think I can win?" I mumble, pressing my face against the cushion again, risking a glance out of the corner of my eye.

"I do."

"Martial, Sly, you, Caesar. You're all making me look like some perfect tribute, like a trained killing machine that usually comes from home. But I'm not," I look at the floor, forcing myself not to cry as my mind wanders, "and I'm only creating more enemies. You're killing me." A lump formed in my throat and I couldn't swallow it no matter how much I tried.

"You're resourceful, Terra, you rely on what you have instead of what you know. That's how you'll win." I shake my head, feeling the tears come.

"No, I won't," my hands are trembling despite how much I try to hold them still. I tug at my fingers, hearing one crack. I think for a moment, searching the floor for answers through the haze of my tears. "I should show them- show them that what they've seen is that only good bit."

"Terra."

""No, I should- I should ask others to teach me how to do their skills. Then they'll see-"

"If you do that, you either have to keep it up when you get scored or blow the gamemakers away. If you don't want everyone's eyes on you, at least make the strongest wary." She leans forward, resting a hand on my knee to gain my attention. I look up to meet her brown eyes, searching for some kind of deception or uncertainty about the plan.

"Which one should I do?" She puffs her cheeks, contemplating for a second and I take a moment to steady my breathing and wipe the few tears away.

"I would aim for a high score with a skill the other tributes haven't seen. Keep a trick up your sleeve for the games but have a score that will encourage sponsors to help you." I nod absently, the door opens as Lys and Trix return in a jolly mood. "Can you do that?" Considering my options, an idea begins to form in the back of my mind and I nod.

Lys and Trix come sit with us and Lys does a double take when she looks at me.

"Are you crying?" She wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me against her.

"I thought I told you to go to bed," Trix says, narrowing her eyes at me. I look down at my hands and pass off the cushion to Lys.

"You're right, sorry," I bid them goodnight and retreated to my room.

I stand in the middle of the bedroom, glancing around and chewing my knuckles. My chest is tight, tears in my eyes and my nose sniffly- but, I don't cry. I won't let myself cry this time.