The Tribute Parade was the first time he laid eyes on her. Or really, the first time he had taken notice of her. Cheers and oohs and ahhs from the crowd made both District 2 tributes turn their heads. There she was. Flames trailed out behind her like a cape, illuminating her face. He had to admit, she was beautiful. The fire accentuated that. But this beauty was dangerous. She was fire and fire burned everything it touched.
What was she trying to do? Upstage them? Upstage a Career? How dare she? Didn't she know who they were? Didn't she know that Careers almost always win the games? What kind of game was she playing? What kind of tactic was that?
One surefire way to get yourself killed first in the arena, Cato thought angrily. 12's female tribute opened up a Pandora's box of questions, and anger was so much easier to deal with than confusion.

As if sensing his menacing glare, the girl from 12 turned. Cato continued stare.
"Cato!" Clove hissed and nudged him in the arm with her elbow. "What are you looking at?"
He glanced down at his fellow tribute. "Nothing. Let's get out of these stupid costumes."
Clove followed him to the elevator where their mentors and stylists were waiting. Both of them were eager to shed the gold gladiator armor.

When the prep teams were done with them, Cato and Clove headed down the hall to their rooms. "Tomorrow the fun begins." Clove said with a grin. She couldn't wait to get her hands on all the shiny new weapons in the training room. "Time to scope out the competition." Cato said.
"There won't be much. 1 looks like a good pair and there's the guy from 11 who's bigger than you are, but the rest don't look that dangerous." Clove snorted, very unlady like. Cato could just see their handler scowling in disapproval at that, had she been there. But this wasn't in front of the cameras, so Clove could act normally.
He grinned. "District 2 will have something to be proud of in a few weeks."
"Damn straight. I'm not letting that prissy thing from 1 win this. I'll knife her in the back before she knows what hit her." Clove said.
Cato laughed. Clove could look and talk pretty in front of the cameras, but when the flashing lights turned off and the pretty dresses were replaced with cargo pants and a simple burgundy shirt, her true personality came to light. She was sharp and deadly, just like her weapon of choice.
"I'm sure they'll have swords there, Cato."
"Yeah. Can't wait to see the look on their faces when I lob off a couple of dummy heads." He was excited as well. "Get some sleep."
"Night Cato."
He shut the door. Tomorrow would be an important step in forming their alliance with the tributes from 1 and intimidating the others. The girl from 12 entered his thoughts. There was something off about her. He couldn't place it. She was so different from all the other District 12 tributes they had studied. The last District, deprecatingly nicknamed the 'Last Stop of Panem', almost always had tributes that were starving and scared out of their minds.
This girl from one of the poorest districts in Panem had stolen the spotlight from the Career tributes. That was no easy feat. Sure, her stylist could have done any number of things to make her presentable, but the clothes wasn't what captured and roused the crowd.
It was the look in her eyes. That was the look of a survivor. Of someone who has had the odds stacked against them since they were born. Cato couldn't help but feel a bit threatened by that fact. Survivors sometimes ended up as victors. Their mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, was a survivor. He survived the Second Quarter Quell, where there were double the number of tributes. He was a survivor who took out the last remaining Career from District 1 and became a victor.
What was stopping this girl from turning out the same way?

As Cato settled down for sleep, he vowed that she wouldn't snatch away the victory from him. 'Watch out, Fire Girl. You won't have your stylist in the Arena when I cut your heart out with my sword.'