"My strategy was just to not die." She wasn't sure whether it was good or bad advice to be giving to those she was supposed to be mentoring. On the one hand, it didn't focus on any of their own skills and take them into consideration in forming a better strategy - but that was for later, during the time they'd inevitably spend in the basement of this place going through the different weapons and techniques. On the other hand, it stressed the importance of survival over fighting, and of doing whatever it takes to ensure you came out on top. That wasn't something Emily was at all proud of, but she knew it was necessary. "I got a score of 5, I was never supposed to win." Her own mentor hadn't put in the effort with her than he had the male tribute, a couple of years Emily's junior but fitter and stronger. He'd died at the Cornucopia.

She doesn't like talking about her time in the Arena. Even years later, there were still too many conflicting emotions that she couldn't process. And at even the slightest provocation she could suffer nightmares for weeks. But she knows that it's easy enough for him to ask around about her, or even to watch the footage of the 69th Hunger Games. She breathes in deeply, pursing her lips together tightly.

"Another tribute allied with me. He latched onto me and wouldn't take no for an answer, so..." She laughs bitterly, shaking her head at his naivety. "I won because when we were the last tributes remaining, I stuck a knife through his back."