Clover was usually a patient cat. She could be patient with cats she needed. Patient as she gained their trust, spent time with them, just to use them in the end. And she would have been able to sit there on that bench, scooted on the edge away from a russet-furred tom. But she couldn’t. Not after seeing Hearst’s gamemakers. Quite a spectacle, the tribute had made of himself. Winking at the crowd, throwing roses to them. ‘I love you! I love you!’ What about Clover? Did he not love her? How could he just- how could he just throw that phrase around to total strangers? Clover wished she could act like it didn’t bother her, like she didn’t care about Hearst anymore. But she did. And that time spent sitting there on the cold bench took agonizingly long because of that. She usually was patient, but now she was eager to get off of that bench. Off of that bench so she could give her mind something else to think about- impressing the Gamemakers. She had no idea what lay for her beyond that closed door. But when her name was called and she stepped in the room, she found herself unprepared. She looked around- vents-?- what were those fo- Hot air blasted Clover in the face, blowing her ribbons past her. She looked up at the shrimp-eating Gamemaker- following their gaze to the balloon. Red, decorated with a tree print. For the lumber district, after all… She was supposed to catch this ba-? The wind picked up, and picked up Clover alongside it. Before she knew it, the tribute was blown into the air. Clover yelped, then took a breath, closing her eyes. Regain your composure, she told herself, then opened them again, searching for the balloon. It didn’t take too long to find it. Light blue eyes that had feigned kindness for so long locked onto the floating balloon, flying in the air towards it. The Gamemakers would turn her, move her, nearly drop her to the ground, but eventually, Clover got her paw on the balloon, feeling a little light-headed. Okay, now she just had to hold on. She eyed the vents, where the wind was coming out of, then her blowing ribbons. It would be tricky, but she just had to hold on for a little while, no? Clover went towards the nearest wall, then pushed off with her paws, reaching the ground. Wind blew at her face. She felt her eyes water. She turned her head away, reaching her free paw up to one of her ribbons. She had a plan. It would be painful, terrible, but it was a plan. Clover removed her ribbon, turned back to the vent, and tied the ribbon around the grate. She felt like her face would blow off, eyeballs fly away. She was crying, fully crying now, eyes red and puffy. Clover held on as tight as she could, until her pawpaws hurt and cut against the balloon string. The ribbon held her in place, against the agonizing, blowing wind. She held on for stars knew how long. It felt like an eternity of pain and torture. Clover shut her eyes, trying to wait out the storm. a swirling in her head and all around her . . . mercifully, after a forever of pain, it ended. The wind stopped. Clover let go of the balloon, taking a shaky breath. Clover looked up at the Gamemakers, forcing a wide smile. and then it all faded to black.
