As we go forward on the Victory Tour, remember that you can always reference the very first section of this Book, Districts of Panem.

That section of this book is to provide all readers with information that they may not know: districts definitions, purposes, and relevant information laid out for you. I know that I have used it on more than one occasion myself.

Let me know what you think!

Stay safe and take care! ~CANGEL

***

District 10

Scarlet Wolfe

     Scarlet followed behind the proud Mayor of District 10 as he led her through their largest slaughterhouse, her red gown trailing behind like blood in the dirt. In a place like this, it had never seemed more fitting. Her prep team scurried at her heels, holding the train, trying to keep up as they delicately lifted the fabric above the filth of the building.

     The coppery scent of blood, both fresh and old, hit Scarlet's nose like a solid punch. The smell of death clung to the air, thick and suffocating, mixing with the sharp, unpleasant odor of animal waste. It reminded her of the Arena—the smell of decay and desperation that never seemed to fade.

     Her first tour.

     Scarlet sincerely hoped that it would be her last.

     The dry heat of District 10 was oppressive, different from the humidity of District 11. It was a thirsty heat that made every breath feel like sandpaper in her throat. Despite the vastness of the slaughterhouse, Scarlet felt claustrophobic, trapped within the endless rows of carcasses hanging like trophies from the ceiling. Each one swung gently as they passed. Some of them had heads, their eyes staring blankly into the voice, eerily reminiscent of the tributes she had seen fall in the Arena. Some didn't, and that was even worse.

     She stifled the urge to shudder, cognizant of the cameras following her every move as she followed in the Mayor's wake. He seemed rather pleased with himself, leading such a grim and distasteful tour, speaking with animated pride about the efficiency of District 10's slaughter process, about how much protein and meat they provided for Panem.

     Scarlet had always thought that District 14 was, in general, terrible, but with each new District that she saw, she was more and more appreciative of the District that she called home. The people were arduous and rough, and it was bitter cold and they were poor, but the air was fresh and the animals stayed in the woods. And for all the lacking that District 14 held, it was a relatively clean and settled place to live in.

     Scarlet barely heard him, her attention lingering on the hanging carcasses, their bodies swaying in unison. She couldn't help but see the parallels to her own life. Like these animals, she had been raised, fattened, and prepared for slaughter, culminating in her life serving as little more than a spectacle for the Capitol's entertainment.

     Despite her distaste for the place, after a few minutes Scarlet forced herself to act fascinated, asking questions, and nod along with what was being said, but most importantly, remaining completely unbothered by the sights and smells around her.

     She maintained this façade, not because she cared, but because she had to. As long as the Mayor and District 10 behaved, she had no reason to snap or snark or act otherwise uncivilized.

     Whenever her emotions threatened to get the better of her, or her memories threatened to take hold and make her lose control, the sight of her escort, stylist, prep team and the rest her entourage squirming behind her, disgusted, uncomfortable and horrified, were enough for her to bury everything back inside.

     Her fingers briefly touched the crystal wolf pendant around her neck, thinking of Cadmium stuck at home, and her wolf unresting even while dead, before she dropped her hand back to her side, pushing away the surge of memories it brough. No. Not now.

     Scarlet continued through the different buildings, these ones housing animals, instead of corpses, the acrid smell of waste and rot intensifying. For a brief moment, the smell had been almost sweet, but now it coated her throat, making every breath taste like decay.

     The air was alive with black flies, buzzing around her head, landing on her skin. Their tiny legs skittered over her arms and neck, leaving invisible trails of disgust wherever they landed. She swatted one away only for it to be replaced by another, yet there was no ignoring them either.

     The Mayor eyes, whenever focused on her, seemed to gleam as he observed her discomfort, though he kept his expression and his words polite. He had every right to be satisfied, Scarlet wasn't in a position to tell him how to feel, but even if she were, she wouldn't. She knew better than most that feelings and emotions couldn't be forced, no matter how much it would make things easier.

     She had made it through her speech without incident, offering her condolences and giving recognition to the power of Panem—the power of the President. Still, she couldn't step back until the unapologetic words had slipped through her mouth. "I have no regrets."

     In retaliation to her words, the Mayor had retaliated in the only way he could. By leading them all on a tour from Hell. Still, Scarlet's stubbornness and pride wouldn't allow her to show weakness.

     So she lifted her chin and kept walking, keeping her steps as steady and slow as ever, pretending that she didn't feel the heat suffocating her beneath the layers of red silk. The gown, with its long train and tight corset, had been designed for appearances, not comfort. The wolf mask pressed against her face, stifling, hot, and oppressive.

     Her hair, pinned and curled with perfection, felt like a weight dragging her down. Her dress whispered behind her, catching every breeze and shift in the air, but it did nothing to cool her down.

     They left the buildings—barns, they were called, at last, stepping into the sunlight, and the heat immediately clawed at her skin again, sucking every ounce of moisture accumulated out of her, leaving her parched and sapped of energy.

     Animals lingered in fields around them, grazing on tall grass. There were roads which they walked on, but no fences. The animals were free to mingle with the people of this District, and it seemed to her that, apart from being slaughtered, the animals here, were treated far better than the citizens.

     Their group stopped as a small herd of cattle was shepherded passed. She watched with disgust as the animals pissed in the road, leaving a river like liquid behind mixing with piles of pie-like waste. When all the animals passed, Scarlet continued on, following the Mayor back to the train. He stepped over the waste like it was nothing significant, avoiding it all with an effortless grace and she followed him.

     Moving around it would be like admitting she was guilty. Showing weakness. And she couldn't do that, not as the Wicked Wolfe, but also, not as herself. She managed just barely to make it through, thankfully, escaping the feel of shit between her toes. A glance behind her told her that others weren't so lucky. Her lips curled behind the mask.

     At the train station, she paused, finally sheltered from the sun. It made the dry heat bearable at the very least.

     The Mayor smiled, smug and proud. "I hope you enjoyed District 10," he said, his voice syrupy with satisfaction with utter confidence that she had not.

      Scarlet met his eyes, his lips curling into a sharp grin despite the dryness in her throat. The fear—brief as it was—that entered his eyes told her that the sharpness was also in her eyes. "I hope to accompany many more tributes here in the future," she replied. She, hopefully, kept the snark out of her voice, wanting it to come across as sweet as honey.

     His lips, still curved into a venomous smile, turned stiff as the meaning of her words settled in. More visits from District 14 meant more dead tributes from District 10.

     With a flick of her fingers, Scarlet waved at him as she stepped onto the train, her red gown trailing after her like blood pooling in her wake. Once Verra, Penelope, and her prep team loaded in, the doors closed, sealing her away from the heat and the smell of decay.

     Inside the train, the air was cool and filtered, fresh and clean. Scarlet breathed deeply, letting the foulness of District 10 leave her lungs. It didn't take long for the smell to disappear, remaining only as an easily discarded memory.

     A hand tapped her shoulder, drawing her attention. Verra stood beside her, a distracted smile on her face as her eyes catalogued Scarlets' person. Hair, face, dress, shoes. Verra's critical eye missed no detail.

     "Well, I think that went well, don't you?"

     The only way that Scarlet could see her words being true were if the speech was the only consideration and the tour was fully discounted.

     "Sure, Verra." She said, her own distraction taking root as she sank down into the cushioned chair next to the window.

     After so much walking, it felt good to simply sit. Though she had learned to walk in heels, distances made her feet cramp and heat in spots that she was sure she'd have blisters in.

     Verra shrugged, "You can't expect much from a District like that. Did you see the places they live in? Honestly, I'm going to have to burn these clothes! It's a shame really, these clothes are very expensive."

     "A District like what?" Scarlet asked, watching them from across the train car. She kept her expression blank, but Verra's smile faltered for a moment, caught off guard.

     Recovering quickly, her smile returned and her eyes became their normal cold and distant sharpness. "Oh, you know. Poor and unrefined. No class. I just can't understand why they would live like that. Practically no better than the animals they raise."

     Scarlet bit the inside of her cheek. Verra's words dripped with arrogance, a cold dismissal of the very people whose lives were governed by the Capitol's whims. But Scarlet knew better. She had lived that life, too. Verra, for all her talent and creativity, had no idea what it was like to be one of them—one of the many people the Capitol kept oppressed and hungry. It was infuriating to see how easily Verra could complain and blame them, how she could trivialize their suffering because it didn't affect her.

      She watched Verra turned to Penelope who had taken a seat beside her, fingering the fabric of her clothing. "Do you think it could be salvageable?"

     Penelope's nose twitched, her lips remaining as puckered as ever as she said, "Only if District 10 wins the Games next year. Then the smell of feces and waste won't seem so out of place."

     Scarlet watched in them laugh to one another, continuing on in their conversations as if the subject, the jesting, the disparaging way they spoke were completely normal.

     Her gaze shifted back to the passing scenery. The land was flat and boring, the ground either covered with barren dirt or long flowing grass. There were few trees, but nothing like the forested areas that surrounded District 14.

     She wanted to be angry at Verra and Penelope. Their full-hearted belief empowered the entire system. She knew. She knew.

     But she also knew that there was nothing that she could say or do that would change their views or their minds. Their lives were simply too different to comprehend for Scarlet to even begin to understand. So why bother?

     She had other, more important things to focus on.

     District 9.

     She let out a quiet breath, watching the fields blur past. The Victory Tour was just beginning, but already it was hard to believe that she had only been to three Districts. She was so tired.

     She wanted to return to District 14. To the cold and the familiar hostility. It was so much easier than all of this.

     But that wasn't an option, and she knew it. She couldn't help but think that all too soon, she would arrive in a certain District with a certain golden skinned Victor that she had tried so hard to forget.

     Would she be welcomed there?

     Doubtful.

     Crimson had betrayed and killed both of their tributes in the bloodbath, making them both look like fools. Even though she had no part in it, it wasn't as if Scarlet's actions had been any better. Scarlet was sure that District 14 in general had left a sour taste in the mouths of most District 4 citizens.

     But, she knew the golden boy would have a hard time passing up the opportunity to brag about the place he called home. Finnick Odair thrived under the cameras, and he loved being the center of attention. Even if he hated playing pretend, she knew he couldn't fake the way he puffed up with pride when complimented—and she had to assume that Finnick received a lot of compliments. If she did get a tour, she had a feeling that he would be the one leading it. Scarlet didn't know if that would be a good thing or a bad thing.

     Instead of stewing on the dreaded interaction, Scarlet stood from her seat and went to her assigned room on the train, seeking a bit of respite.

     She sat on the bed, her back stiff from the corset she was forced to wear and pulled out her crystal and carving tools. She didn't dare lay down on her bed, running the risk of messing with her hair or makeup, or strip from her uncomfortable corset constraining her. If she did, it would mean at least another hour of prep work followed by at least one lecture from Verra, and probably another one from Penelope.

      Scarlet held the uncarved crystal in her hand and pressed the tool to the crystal, shaving off flakes of the material at a time. She lost herself in her work, her focus never leaving the piece in her hands as it slowly took its form.

Scarlet stared at its half-formed image and tossed the crystal on the bed sheets next to her. Even half-shaped she knew what it would be finished. The three points on top, slowly taking shape. The long pole in the back that Scarlet would carve down to near nothing.

     A trident in the making.

     Scarlet was tempted to throw the damned crystal off the train, but it was the only unfinished piece she had brought. Her fingers and brain would sit idle for the remainder of the Victory Tour and that was unacceptable.

     That was the only reason why she picked up the half-finished piece of crystal from her bed and continued working on it as diligently as before.

      That was the only reason.

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Quite honestly, I'm starting to think that Scarlet should just not have the ability to talk. She has no self-restraint at all. *shaking my head*

What do you think? Did you enjoy this chapter?

Remember to vote if you enjoyed!

Stay safe and take care!~CANGEL