Maybe Foxface Is The Real Opponent Here~

10-Cannibalism is deeply frowned upon

CLOVE'S P.O.V

I stand in the empty room where just a second ago Cato left. Observing the room as I stand, the screen which televises us catches my eye. It has various channels, and as if knowing my thoughts, a little remote comes into view. Curious, I pick it up and navigate onto a channel showing re-run clips of our interviews, followed by a few clips of us training. My interview was alright in terms of my answers, though I don't get many claps and I'm certain Caesar looks slightly scared of me. I guess that's the desired affect. They show a clip of me throwing a knife on target, then one of me smirking at Cato as I'm reaped. Then, all of a sudden, Caesar's face accompanied by another Capitol idiot flashes onto the screen, commenting.

'She's a real animal, that Clover.' The second man says, running his hand across his pink tie, checking its position. A growl is released through my lips as he says my name wrong.

'Yeah, I wouldn't want to be in the arena with that chick.' Caesar grins. 'We've had various messages coming in about Clove's interview, some very excitable, others just damn well grim! I'll read a few..' He adds, staring straight into the camera, probably reading off the autocue.

'"I think Clove should win. We need a girl like her to finish of the weaklings.' Says one, quite vulgar don't you think Noah? ' 

Noah just chuckles, adjusting his pink tie again while reading another. 'She seems so savage and wild, she's like a bomb waiting to go off. I feel sorry for anyone around her when that happens,' I grin. 'but I especially feel sorry for Clove herself, something must have happened early in life to produce a girl that barbaric.'" Noah's voice fades towards the ending, and clears his throat with a nervous expression planted on his face. He exchanges a glance with Caesar.

'Well, that's Clove, from District 2, in case you've forgotten!' Caesar says normally, still grinning ridiculously at the camera. I shiver and sit down on the soft couch. 'Now, Cato from the same district.' He continues seriously. They show his interview as per usual, but pause on a picture of Cato in the training room, staring dreamily into the eyes of that foxy girl who stands a few metres away, and appears not to have seen him.

'Well, he seems a dashing lad, with of course, a hint of brutality we've obviously noticed in his district partner, Clove.' Noah comments, still looking at the picture that remains on a screen above his head. 'Any thoughts, Caesar? I know you witnessed his session with the game-makers.' I scowl as this is forbidden, but continue to watch, not able to look away.

'Like you said, Cato appears to be quite untamed et cetera, but it's not that that's been the centre of attention for the young lad recently.'

'Hm?' Noah says questioningly; the space of skin where his eyebrows would have been raised as if to ponder.

'Some say he's formed a friendship of some sort with the girl in 5.' Caesar replies, a serious look in his eyes. Noah looks around for confirmation, this doesn't appear to have been on the autocue. Before I realise I'm doing it, I'm holding a couch cushion so tightly it starts to rip open at the seams, showering me with tiny white feathers. My grip doesn't cease.

Noah replies with a mere 'Oh' and folds his arms, leaning back in his chair. Caesar continues. 'Yes, they've been spotted in each others company a lot in the recent training sessions and coming down in the lift together often. Not forgetting, viewers, it's only gossip!' 

I grit my teeth in anger, wondering why no-one else appears to have seen this, but answer my own question when I notice it's live. All the tributes are asleep, except me of course, and I remember someone telling me Capital citizens sleep when we wake up, except for the days of the games, in which they hardly get a wink of sleep. They don't want us to see this. I think, and the pillow collapses in a feathery heap as I get up and leave, shutting off the television as I go with a rather evil smirk on my face.

FOXFACE'S P.O.V

The flat grey podiums are suspiciously steady as we are elevated into the fields that will witness our very slaughters. A ringing sound deafens me, and upon looking around, I notice no-one else seems to hear it. I wobble unsteadily, wanting to grab my ears viciously and pull them right off. I manage to hear a loud crackle followed by a voice, instructing us on a clearly shortened list of rules for the arena. My personal favourite, 'Cannibalism is deeply frowned upon, and any tribute who proceeds to do so will be personally dealt with by the Gamemakers.'

The voice; which I mentally note is a woman's, (although it's probably computer generated) speaks again. 'You will have sixty seconds until you will be released into the arena. Step off just a second before that time and you will be blown to bits.' Says the woman, her voice and lines clearly contrasting to make me smirk. For at least one of those seconds I take a quick scope around the podiums. We’re on a flat, open stretch of grassy land. Behind the tributes across from me, I see only a stretch of land, nothing more. To my right lies a lake. To my left and back, pine woods stick up into the air, swaying only slightly. Straight in the middle of my vision lies the cornucopia. The giant golden horn is shaped like a cone with a curved tail, the mouth of which is extremely high, and would take real effort to climb. Strewn out of it is food, containers of water, weapons, medicine, garments, fire starters and a few small/medium backpacks of which the contents are unknown. Around it are other supplies, their value decreasing the farther they are from the horn. A sheet of plastic lies some metres away, and I wonder what good it would do when being chased with an axe.

That's when the bleeping starts. I count down the seconds out loud but quietly, so only I can hear it. I know where I'm going. Vaguely. No doubt the careers and some others will try to get supplies, and at first I'm tempted to, but I remember sadly that I'm not so great a fighter, and Clove looks awfully handy with a knife, of which there are several just inside the cornucopia. A shudder runs down my spine.

The last few seconds roll by, and I notice how heavily i'm sweating with discomfort.

10.

9.

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5.

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3.

2.

I steady myself into a sprinting position as we were once taught in physical education at school, and before anyone else has the chance, I leap onto the field, missing the explosives by less than a second as I land; exactly on the sound of the release siren. A slightly familiar boy runs straight past me towards the cornucopia, but he isn't fast enough and is thrown to the ground by the lankiest boy of the careers, Marvel, who; raising his curved blade into the air, proceeds in chopping the poor boy's neck to mere shreds. Doran. I quickly turn away and run faster, almost tripping as I meet the first tree of the murky woods.

**