the ruler [THE HUNGER GAMES]¹

Four.

MY nerves are eating me alive as I pull on the outfit that Persephone has set out for me on my first day of real mentorship. Everything up until today has just been in preparation. Now I must ensure Clove's survival a much as I can. It's about eight in the morning and the games start at ten. I will meet with Clove at eight-thirty to walk her to the hovercraft and then she will be delivered into the arena by her stylist. I remember last year Malachi's stylist barely spoke and all I could think of was how he probably spent the small period of time under the arena before the games alone and scared. Persephone and I had eaten a large breakfast and then just talked about anything non-games related until I was called to the pedestal. I wish she could be here now to tell me that its okay.

I sit on the window seat in my bedroom for the minutes I have spare, sipping on a glass of water and then an avox opens my door and wordlessly beckons me to the communal area of the floor. Clove is dressed in cargo-style pants with plenty of pockets and a burgundy shirt with a light waterproof jacket on top. This gives me a slight indication of what her arena will be. Last year we had been adorned in tight white jumpsuit-type outfits that kept us cool in the scorching desert environment. Her clothing is more aimed at a mild climate, possibly with the chance of wet weather. It hadn't rained once in my arena.

"Ready?" I ask Clove, straightening the jacket on her shoulders and avoiding eye contact. All I can think about is how I might not see her again.

"Yeah," she nods her head slightly. Here, where its just me, she lets her guard down. There isn't the usual cocky and confident Clove who would never let anyone know she's scared. I allow it because its one of the last times she is allowed to be just a fifteen year old girl from District Two. After this, wether she's dead or alive when the games end, she will no longer belong to anyone but Snow.

"Alright," I lead her to the roof of the training centre where the hovercraft awaits. There are scheduled slots for each tribute to go up and get in alone so that no intimidation can happen. At least no intimidation that's not overlooked by officials. So far, the only tributes on the craft will be One and Cato. Clove stops a few steps from the stairs and takes a deep, shaky breath. This is it.

"You've got this," I tell her, and in this place where nobody can hear us I finally take my chance to give her the advice that saved me last year. "Don't forget that it's not all for the cameras. Cato and your other allies, they want you dead as much as everyone else. Don't get caught up playing friends."

Clove takes in his information and nods quickly, then puts on her usual unbothered expression. "Bye Fawn," she grabs hold of the hand rails and hoists herself up onto the hovercraft. Her feet are the last thing to disappear and then she's gone, possibly forever.

I know my time here is over because Beetee Latier and the District Three boy are waiting by the doors to go to the hovercraft. I quickly hurry past them, keeping my head low until I find my way to the sponsors room. Here, all the mentors situate themselves until their tribute dies. Some will be gone by this afternoon, others will have to suffer every excruciating bit of the games until the very end. The room is quiet now, with only Cashmere and Gloss, the sibling-mentors from One and Jacinth to fill the large space. One side of the room is filled with tables and tables fill of food and drink to sustain us, and then the opposite wall is stacked from ceiling to floor with screens. There are also twenty four little tablets that show live-feeds of the entire games from your tributes perspective. Other than that there are plush chairs, tables, and sofas for us to sit in whilst we watch. This is the one thing mentors are forced to attend. You can miss the parade, training, the interviews and even get a Capitol attendant to deliver your tribute to the hovercraft, but you must be at the sponsor hall at all times except for sleeping and trying to gather Capitol citizens to sponsor your tribute.