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'I'll never let you go' Chapter 1Clove
If you're reading this, congratulations. It means that you've overlooked the stereotypical 'Careers' the Fire Girl made us out to be in her book and are curious to find out more about us. Me and Cato, that is. You see, when you watch the Games you only get one side of the story. You see the story the Gamemakers write, the story they dictate. And when you've read the books, you only get Fire Girl's perspective on it, which, let's be honest, is a little biased. So, Cato and I are going to tell you our story, our way, our Games. But to start with, we'll have to take you to District 2.
Cato says I can tell about our childhoods. I suppose for him there's not much to tell. He's the eldest child of Darien and Eliza Burgh who were pretty well off; Darien being the youngest son of a previous Victor. He worked in a munitions factory as a supervisor, while Eliza stayed home with the children. There were three, all boys, Cato, Aiden and Saul, with two years between each respectfully. Darien
Russian Violets: The Girl Who Fell From The Tree 2
She was about twelve, plump but not fat, short-ish and was wearing a white dress that came down to her knees with a light aqua sash and trim. Her hair, tied back with a matching ribbon, coming down to just above her waist, with a slight wave and was light brown with a hint of red, framed a pale face with lightly flushed cheeks and thin lips the colour of pink primroses. But what struck me the most was her eyes; they were unlike any eyes I had ever seen before. Sure, they were blue, a beautiful pure blue, but they were more than that. They had a clarity and deepness to them that reminded me of a fresh water stream I had once seen on holiday in Finland and had had an urge to throw a stone into. I wondered how far a stone would sink in her eyes.
We must have only been standing together for a few seconds, but it seemed like much longer. What eventually dragged us out of our initial shock was the screams from the other girls over the slope coming closer and closer. The girl I'd caught turne
Russian Violets: The Girl Who Fell From The Tree
The Tsar smiled at me. 'Why don't you go walk in the garden, Ivan?' he said kindly. 'Your father and I will be talking for a while, I expect. You'll find it terribly dull, I can imagine.'
I glanced at Father, who nodded then mouthed: 'Don't talk to anyone.'
Managing to remember my manners, I bowed to the Tsar. 'Thank you very much, Your Majesty.' Then I backed out of his study and followed a Cossack down the corridor and out into the garden.
The garden of Tsarskeo Selo was huge, with colourful flowers in beds that stretched as far as I could see and tall maple trees lining the paths. Fountains spurting jets of glittering water were dotted around, painted blue and gold, to match the famous gates. But once you passed the grandeur of the formal garden, you came to a slightly wilder, less regimental area, designated for the Imperial children. Instead of imported roses and tulips, here were wild flowers and the Empress' favourite lilac trees, along with large oaks and acorns that could be c
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