''Let's do this thing, girl!''

As soon as I hit the pebbles, I am asleep.

''She must be radiant for the Memorial feast. Spare no expense,'' a gruff, male voice rings out. Haymitch? I think. But no, he doesn't sound like that. Just then I notice I am no longer cold, no longer on the tough pebble path. Instead I am on a velvet and silk bed, tucked in warmly with a goose down and animal skin. I dare to peek open one eye. I am in a small room, with a man, (his back to me), and a woman. They are talking, and the woman is nervously serving tea. ''Yes, sir. I understand real well,'' the black woman says. ''Good,'' the man says and stands up from his chair. He slowly turns around and looks at me, and I quickly close my eye. But I get a glimpse of him before I do. The door slams, and I assume the man is gone (and thank goodness, he was). He is handsome, with a light olive skin, black hair, and blue eyes. I guessed he was about 18. The woman, though, stayed. ''Wake up, child! We gotta some work to do!'' she says, shaking my shoulder.

After breakfast, Mammy (the black woman) helps me dress. The man is impatiently waiting outside, every so often stamping his foot and saying, ''Is she ready yet?''. Mammy finishes the last touch, a rose, and calls out: ''Yes, she be ready.''

(Mammy is magic with makeup, and hair dye ;) The man rushes in, and to my surprise, so does a wolf/dog. ''Good, Mammy. Rue, this is Adolf (it means wolf in German, he he); he'll take care of you. Soon I'll be sending you to the Memorial feast. You'll have this;'' he hands me an earpiece which looks like a golden earring; ''with you. You'll do what I say, or say what I say. Don't tell anybody about the earpiece. Report all you hear to me. Also, press a certain rose and your outfit will be changed to your spy gear. Press it again, and it'll change back. Press a different one and you'll be changed to the princess gear. You must impose Princess Elena,'' With that, the man walks back out of the room. Mammy shrugs. ''Want to see yo spy gear? Let's do this thing, girl!'' Mammy presses the third rose:

''Just one more! The princess herself told Master what she was wearing, it shure is lucky yo look like her,'' Mammy presses the first rose: 
 
''Don't you just love it?!'' And I swear something nasty as I look at myself in the mirror.
~Rue