2009م - 1444هـ
Catching Fire



I clasp the flask between my hands even though the warmth from the tea has long since leached into the frozen air. My muscles are

clenched tight against the cold. If a pack of wild dogs were to appear at this moment, the odds of scaling a tree before they attacked are not

in my favor. I should get up, move around, and work the stiffness from my limbs. But instead I sit, as motionless as the rock beneath me,

while the dawn begins to lighten the woods. I can't fight the sun. I can only watch helplessly as it drags me into a day that I've been

dreading for months.

By noon they will all be at my new house in the Victor's Village. The reporters, the camera crews, even Effie Trinket, my old escort,

will have made their way to District 12 from the Capitol. I wonder if Effie will still be wearing that silly pink wig, or if she'll be sporting

some other unnatural color especially for the Victory Tour. There will be others waiting, too. A staff to cater to my every need on the long

train trip. A prep team to beautify me for public appearances. My stylist and friend, Cinna, who designed the gorgeous outfits that first made

the audience take notice of me in the Hunger Games.