A door clicking shut behind me jerks my face from its pitiful position on my palms. Mags stands there leaning on the door, her face flushed from the heat. She sighs and smiles at me, and I take a closer look at the aging victor. 

She's wearing an outfit that consists of an emerald green blouse and gray pants that look light, and airy. Her hair is long and a bit shaggy, a pale ginger flecked through with silver, that brings out the blue in her eyes. She's a quiet woman, speaking only when spoken to at interviews, and keeping to herself in the Victory Village in a larger city in District 4. She visits whatever town is being reaped in person every year.

Without a word, she sits down across from me in a plush black chair with silver trim. I quickly swipe my hands across my face to get rid of the streaks and press my thumbs into the corners of my eyes to keep tears at bay. She watches me, almost studying me for a few heartbeats.

"Are you alright, Whimsey?" She asks softly. I stare at the silver bracelet still clenched in my hands.

"Yeah. Fine."

"It's natural for tributes to be scared when they first get reaped. The shock will wear off in a little while. We've got some time before we get to the next stop to pick up your new teammate, so I'd say we get to know each other."

I shrug, staring at the intricately patterned ceiling. Everything's still a blur, and I feel sick to my stomach. My new mentor's still waiting for some sort of response from me, so I pull random information out of my brain to fill the void.

"Well... my family works in the fishing industry, I live near the beach, and I like to draw."

She nods slowly. "Alright, that's a start." Suddenly the train lurches, and slowly starts to move. Amaralie and anyone else who's supposed to be along for the ride must be in a different one of the cars. And judging by the high-pitched voice radiating from the second one over, she's definitely in there.

I glance out the window, and my heart sinks at just how quickly the only home I've ever known is disappearing. The speed at which the train is moving is shocking- It's all a blur in a matter of seconds. Cars and other vehicles besides boats or carts are rare in all of the Districts, so suddenly speeding along at over two hundred miles an hour is astounding. The houses at the far edge of town that I've only ever wandered past a handful of times melt away over the horizon, and the sea is only a blue-gray smudge in the distance.

If I'd known that the last time I'd ever see my bedroom would be this morning, I wouldn't have left it. If I'd realized that that was the last morning I'd spend drawing on the docks, I'd have painted everything I could see in my nicest watercolours, and not whatever crappy pencil I'd picked out of my drawer. 

I feel my eyes sting again, and I blink hard. If I show up to the capitol a snivelling mess, I'll just make a fool out of myself; and besides losing any self-respect, I'll be targeted as weak. When I go out, I want to have my dignity. And having a few sponsors on my side can't hurt either. 

I start to zone out again, still processing. Mags stands up with slight difficulty and heads toward the door of the connecting car. "I have to talk to Amaralie. Stay here, I'll be back," She disappears, and I let my head fall against the window. It's cold, and I'm so overwhelmed by all that's happened in the last hour that I close my eyes. 

I don't think sleep will come, but I manage to doze off into some half-lucid state while the dizzyingly swift train carries me further and further away from my family, and my home forever. 

                                                      ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I awake to voices. Three, to be exact. When I open my eyes, a tall boy with fiery red hair and fierce pale eyes is standing in the center of the room, observing everything with his hands in the pockets of his pressed black pants. He looks strong, and his skin is tanned and littered with sunspots. He notices that I'm no longer asleep, and stares at me for a second before giving me a tiny nod, barely acknowledging my existence in the train car. 

Amaralie sees me sit up, and a smile spreads across her already beaming face. "Darling, you're awake! Mags told me to let you sleep a little longer, so I did. Or else, I would have woken you sooner!" I look across gratefully at Mags, who's busy writing out something in some sort of form. Probably tribute documentation.

"Alright, introduce yourselves!" The escort urges, and I feel an awkward silence settle over the car as we both wait for the other to start. Shit, find your people skills, Whimsey, I think with a twinge of embarrassment. I wave. Why? Well, why not? 

He responds with a quiet, "Hey," and resumes his absentminded observance of the luxuries of the train car. He has an air of arrogance in the way that he looks down on me, his voice toneless. Amaralie pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "Well, the two of you obviously aren't the best with words. We'll work on that." 

I turn to look out the window and see that we're travelling away from the coast. As I watch, the last tiny sliver of ocean that I could just barely see disappears. The landscape is an endless stretch of green fields, and I see the occasional tree become more and more common, likely leading into a forest, and I know that we'll be crossing into District 1 soon. It leaves my chest feeling hollow, and I swallow hard. There's no going back- Soon we'll be in a different District, and then the Capitol, then the arena. It's all going downhill from here. 

"We've got a while until dinner, so there are a few things you can do. You can watch replays of all of the other Reapings in the farthest car, you can talk with Mags or me and plan out your strategy for training and the games, you can rest, or you can get to know the other tribute." She sounds hopeful we'll take the last option; we don't.

Finn wanders off to watch the replays- probably scoping out the competition, with Amaralie chatting away on his heels, and Mags comes to sit down beside me.

"What do you think of Finn?" She asks, one eyebrow slightly raised. I shrug. 

"Honestly, I don't know. I haven't even spoken a full sentence with him yet, so... I'm not sure." 

"Do you think you'll ally with him?"

"Do I have to?" I retort, a bit uneasy about considering allying with Finn, even if it is traditional for the tributes from the Career Districts to band together. There's something about him that makes me nervous. Maybe it's his silence or the look in his eye, but I can't shake the feeling that he'll probably stab me in my sleep if I choose to even half trust him. 

"No..." She answers slowly. "But what's your strategy? Because if you do want allies, he'll be one to keep an eye on." 

I stay quiet for a moment. I haven't had time to consider my strategy, seeing as I've only been on the train for a few hours, and half of it has been spent sleeping.

 Of course, there were the childhood games of "What if," where all of the students would passionately discuss what would happen if they got put in the games, and if they would win. Nobody really took it seriously. No one ever thinks it'll be them that get put into the arena until it's happening. 

Do I want allies? It'll probably be simpler alone, but then again, maybe I'll be safer in numbers.

So instead of thinking more about it, I divert my attention to Mags' games. Maybe she'll give me ideas. "What did you do in your games?" She seems a little caught off guard by the question. "It was a long time ago. I can't remember everything."

"Well, did you ally, did you not, how did you win?" I  coax, trying to get more information. 

"Well, it was the first year that the Gamemakers put in a real arena, with a theme and everything. In the ten years before that, it was just a literal arena. Concrete and metal. It got destroyed in a rebel bombing a few days before the 10th, and they retired it the next year. It was quite small and the games- besides the 10th- were really short. They were still trying to figure out how to work the new arena style, so there were loopholes and gaps."

"Loopholes such as...?" 

"The mutts were kind of bugged. It was a forest, so there were Jabberjays and some sort of canine. Something between a fox, and a dog and a wolf- real big, skinny brutes. They weren't really going after the tributes well, having trouble with the arena style, so they only killed, maybe two people." A smile is clear in her voice as she continues. "I once watched one spin in a circle for five minutes straight."

I laugh for what must be the first time today, imagining some weird fox-dog-wolf standing in a forest spinning in place.  The mutts work now, of course- I'd seen plenty of them while watching the games live. They're terrifying, everything from huge mutated cats with claws as long as razorblades and twice as sharp, to sharks and fish in the water arenas that could swallow a person whole. 

"Did you join a Career pack?" I ask, and she shakes her head. "The Careers weren't really all that much of a thing yet. There were packs and allegiances, but the training and all of that didn't exist. I had one ally- Aven. He and I worked together for a few days until he was out scouting, and an arrow through the neck took him out." A sad smile crosses her face for a split second, fleeting and disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. "He was a nice kid. It was a real shame."

I find myself growing more and more curious about my mentor's games. Knowing everything I can will help me when I enter the arena. She taps her foot against the ground steadily as she starts to speak again before I can ask any more questions.

"Now, what are your skills? What's a weapon you can use well?"

I've always been alright with knives. I used to whittle a lot before I discovered drawing, and I'm still pretty nimble with the weapon. I  have a few carvings on my windowsill that I made when I was just little.  A tiny gull, a crooked flower, and a star with a broken point. I feel a pang in my chest when I realize I won't see them again. 

"Knives. I can use them pretty easily."

"That's good when you're hand-to-hand, but not so great when the fight's starting. How are you with tridents?"

District 4 tributes are sort of famous for being skilled with their use of tridents. Most of the Careers in the bigger cities or training centers, and even in the smaller towns are taught how to use them from a young age. I, however, have only held one a handful of times and never learned how to wield or throw them. My father wanted to teach me, but my mother said it was too dangerous. She was always a bit overbearing. I would have maybe learned when I was seventeen or eighteen, sixteen if I was really lucky. All impossible ages now.

"Shitty. My father was supposed to teach me, but he never did."

"Language, Whimsey." She scolds. "But that's alright. Spears? Bows?"

"Never used them." 

  I feel my odds sinking lower and lower, falling a point each time I list a weapon I don't know how to use, or can't use well. In the end, it's really only knives and similar things like sickles, and I suppose I can probably learn how to use a sword or a trident in the training center.  

Mags shakes her head. "At least you know how to use a couple of things, and there's plenty of time in the training week to learn something new." 

She sits back, studying me for a moment before smiling. "You're a smart kid. And you look strong- You're tall, you've lived around the water for your whole life, you've got muscle and the stylists will be able to really bring out your features. Whimsey, I think you have a fighting shot in this."

"Do I?" I ask skeptically. "You've probably told all of your tributes that. Look at Finn- He's a powerhouse. He'll get sponsors. He could probably snap my neck like a branch- he's the one that has a fighting chance if anyone." My tone goes bitter, and I feel a little guilty for lashing out at Mags when she's only trying to help. 

"Wait and see. As long as you can charm the Capitol at your interview, or prove that you're strong, the sponsors will come pouring in. And if you can't do that, everyone loves a long shot. I've seen betters place money on twelve-year-olds with a weak lung and clubfoot. Did they win? Of course not. But they bet anyway." 

"Are you saying I'm a long shot? I know I won't be coming home, but I'm stronger than a sickly twelve-year-old." 

"I'm saying that you've got options and leeway. Whether you impress the world with your skills and your score or establish that you'll struggle in the games, there'll always be someone on your side. With betting comes money, with money comes gifts from the sponsors. Gifts are a huge lifeline, making the difference between losing and winning. And there's one person already betting on you- Your mentor." 

"That makes me feel so much better," I mutter, fiddling with my bracelet. But it has got me thinking. If I can impress the Capitol, work hard in training, get sponsors, and somehow make it past the bloodbath, maybe I'll actually be able to make it home.

                                                      ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The scent of the dozens of foods laid out in front of me is intoxicating, and I stare shamelessly at the dishes, piled high with steaming piles of meat, and veggies and deserts, most of which I've never seen before. The main centrepiece is a huge bird of some sort. I've had chicken a few times, and even duck once, but this looks and smells a bit different. Bigger, darker. Turkey...? Maybe.

There's a pale strip of fish adorned with fancy trimmings, probably cod or haddock, and another meat that I can't name. It smells delicious, though.

Several crystal bowls hold hot steamed vegetables and there must be ten different drinks in tall pitchers scattered around the table. Bread, rolls, butter and jam are laid out fresh, still soft and warm. My mouth waters and my stomach rumbles. I've never seen anything that looks this good.

Mags is seated beside me, with Finn right across the table, and Amaralie beside him. Servants dressed in white mill around the table, and I can tell who they are immediately by their silence. Avoxes. I've never seen one in person before, and their wide eyes and meek, cowering movements make me nervous. I feel bad for them and as one- a shorter girl with curly pale brown hair- catches my eye, I quickly look away. 

Soon, my plate is piled high with foods I can't name, and I taste everything curiously. Some of it is far too rich. I've never been starving to the point of being in danger of death, but there have been several winters where I've had to go without food for a day or even two while we waited for my parent's pay. And most of what I eat is bland; Fish, bread, white rice, things like that. Seasoning isn't common back home, so everything here sings on my tongue, and I force myself to slow down.

Finn is pickier shoving what he doesn't want onto a napkin and pushing it aside. Mags stares at him out of the corner of her eye, obviously put off by his wastefulness. 

Amaralie chatters on about anything and everything, and I wonder how she even has enough air in her lungs to keep going. 

"I am so impressed with this batch of tributes this year! These games will be something to remember. The pair from Seven looks fantastic!  Even Twelve has some chance this year. Oh- a sister and brother duo were reaped from Nine! That never happens! I can't wait to see everything play out in the arena." 

She seems so genuinely excited at the aspect of watching twenty-three children die that I stop eating and set my fork down on the table, appalled. I have choice words lined up for the escort, but Mags taps my foot with hers from under the table, her eyebrows raised, seeing the look on my face that can't possibly be pleasant. 

I begrudgingly pick up my fork. Anything I say will go in one ear and out the other- what's the point anyway? I tune her out and keep eating.

Soon, I'm full and lean back in the plush, polished chair.  A glass of a drink- bright orange, with a taste that is impossible to akin to any fruit I've tasted- sits unfinished, and I'm tempted to drain it but I can't. My plate is mostly empty too. 

"Oh, come on Whimsey- You can finish a bit more!" Amaralie pushes, waving an Avox over to put more on my plate.

"No, I really can't," I insist, pushing the mostly empty plate away from me. The Avox hovers nearby, unsure of what to do. 

"You need to put on some weight! You're skinny as a twig, dear."

I look down at my lap, covered by my dress, and cross my arms across my chest. I'm not that skinny- She must be exaggerating. "I said, I'm full." 

Amaralie looks like she's about to keep pushing, but Mags cuts her off.  "Leave her be, Amaralie."

"Fine," she scoffs. "Go into that arena and starve  within a week, because you have no weight to lose."  

"You're a strangely dislikeable person, you know that?"

"Whimsey, 'Mara, drop it." Mag's tone is exacerbated, and she stares daggers at the both of us. I sit in brooding silence. Finn looks entertained. I almost enjoy pissing the escort off, but at the same time, it's frustrating to attempt to have a conversation with her, even if the end goal is to make her mad. 

At that moment, saving the four of us from the awkward quiet that follows, the train starts to slow. I stand up from the table and head to the window and see that the fields,  rivers and wild landscape have been replaced by steel and concrete. Forgetting our spat mere moments ago, Amaralie claps her hands in excitement and runs to the other window.

"Here we are! Finn, Whimsey, welcome to the Capitol." 

Hello guys! Sorry, this chapter's a bit shorter than they're usually meant to be; I'm leaving tomorrow (3/19/24) for a school trip, and I'll be gone for about a week, so I had to rush to get this out in time. I'll be unavailable and won't have my phone or laptop, so I look forward to seeing any interactions when I return! Feedback, comments, votes, opinions and critiques are always welcome! Thank you so much for reading <3

-Your favourite procrastinator, ThatLovelyDove