I imagine all of the past games and different arenas. Jungles, forests, meadows, ocean beaches, deserts, and Холодное сердце tundras. The different ways the people die. The screams and last words. The splattered blood and the hovercraft arm picking up the unmoving creatures. As sudden as it started, I awake from the dream with a start, as I spring up sweaty and gasping for air. I have my pad and pencil in my clutches tightly, as I let them drop them to the ground, looking at my hands, then myself in the mirror. I shake myself awake, get ready to meet my mentor, Deidre Allind, victor if the 14th games....
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