1. Be polite to the victors. One of them will be your mentor.

The trains would be a wonderland if they weren't taking them to their deaths. Jack's room was huge, and it was filled with more luxuries than the stories he dreamed up for his sister. The drawers were filled with soft warm clothes without a speck of wear on them, and the bed was not only softer than a snow drift, it was bolted to the floor. Nothing would be sneaking out from underneath that.

The dinner car was even better. There was a small fountain flowing with chocolate and speckled with bits of peppermint candy on the center of the table, and it was surrounded by chunks of fresh fruit. Warm rolls glowed golden brown next to a dish of actual butter, and there was roasted meat that didn't look like loosely defined sausage. And apparently that was only the beginning; there were people bringing out more even as he watched, and it was all Jack could do not to run over and start stuffing his face with everything he saw.

The only thing that stopped him was the fact that the rest of the room finally registered. Namely, the fact that the three victors were all looming over a terrified looking Baby Tooth and apparently they'd decided to jump right in to discussing the gorier aspects of the Cornucopia.

Yeah, no.

Jack made it to the table without being seen, and he bypassed the more interesting treats in favor of an apple that looked like it'd make a nice audible crunch. The sound managed to cut through their babbling. Bunnymund had big ears, after all.

North beamed at him. "Good, you are here! We were just discussing - "

Toothiana darted forward. "The Cornucopia can wait. Look at his teeth! I haven't seen any so much white since - "

Jack took a step back and tried not to wince when he stepped into the table. HIs grin was frozen on his face. "Hands off the teeth, please."

"Business is more important, Tooth," North scolded.

"Right," Bunnymund agreed. "Okay, so we were just saying that you need to be careful when you're making your retreat from the Cornucopia. A lot of tributes forget that the ground's got a few more obstacles than it did when they were running in, and they end up paying the price. The last thing you want is to trip over somebody and end up - "

Baby Tooth looked alarmed and maybe he should stop calling her that, because Toothiana was creepy, but he couldn't remember her actual name, so it was too late for that.

Jack cut Bunnymund off. "Yeah, I've been thinking about a way around that. Why not just leave before it gets to that point? I'm not sure either of us is really cut out for the bloodbath."

"That is defeatist attitude, Jack!" North boomed. "With a bit of training, you will do fine."

"I'll do fine in the Games," Jack agreed, "but I'll be fine by playing them my way, and that means grabbing whatever supplies are in reach, finding Baby Tooth, and getting out." He pauses, finally remembering the girl's name. "Er, Ava. Sorry."

The others are all staring at him.

"Baby Tooth?" Toothiana said.

"You're teaming up?" Bunnymund asked with an edge of incredulity he really didn't appreciate. From now on he could just be Bunny and see how he liked it.

Even thinking about going up against Bunny again made him want to be safely on the other side of the table, but he squared his shoulders instead. "Why wouldn't we? It makes sense. Right?" He threw an anxious look at Baby - Ava, her name was Ava.

She nodded quickly.

The others still looked doubtful but they let it go. North clapped his hands together. "Let us eat!"

Jack ended up having to sit beside Toothiana, but he gritted his teeth and stayed where he was because it meant he could also sit beside Ava, and it was better than sitting beside Bunny.

"So," Bunny said. "Tooth's got Ava, obviously, but we still need to work out who's going to be responsible for you."

Jack bristled at the tone. "North," he said instantly, shooting a quick look at the big guy. "If I get a say, I want North."

North looked pleased. Bunny's ears flattened a little, but he nodded. "Good. One less thing I have to worry about."

"Bunny," North reproved.

"What? Simple fact. I didn't mean anything by it."

North decided to cut his losses and move on. "Are there any gifts we should know about? Any weaknesses?"

Ava shook her head. Jack shrugged. He wasn't about to tell them about his experience fighting, so he just said, "I'm good at making a general nuisance of myself. My right arm still aches on cold days, but I can still use it, so it doesn't really matter."

North frowned. "An old injury?"

"Yeah," Jack said darkly. "You could say that. It was broken in two places, and I knew my parents couldn't afford to get the doctor to come set it, so I got - " Jamie - "one of my friends to do it."

Bunny whistled. "How'd you manage that, kid?"

Jack gaped at him. "You honestly don't remember?"

Bunny frowned. "Remember what?"

"Breaking it!" Jack exploded.

The only sound in the room was the chocolate falling into the fountain.

"What." Bunny's voice was completely flat.

Jack shook his head in disgust. "What, have you broken so many kids' arms you don't even remember doing it anymore?" He'd eaten only half a plate, but suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. His life was going to depend on these people, and at least two of them were complete sociopaths.

"I'm going back to my room," he mumbled, shoving his seat back from the table. Ava hurried to stand too.

Bunny jumped out of his seat and blocked the door. "You can't just say something like that and walk off! What do you mean, I broke your arm? When?"

Ava tried to slip past him. Bunny grabbed her arm. "No one's going anywhere till I get some answers."

Jack grabbed a knife from the table on instinct and a handful of salt from long habit. "Let her go," he said, deceptively quiet. "Now."

The others had half risen by that point, and Jack didn't know what they would have done, but Ava let out a conveniently timed whimper. Bunny let her go instantly, and her sleeves were short enough to show the splotch of bruises already rising.

It took everything Jack had not to fling himself at Bunny right then, even if Bunny did look horrified. Jack wasn't buying it.

"Maybe," he said in a voice heavy with irony, "you just don't know your own strength."

Ava should have run then, but instead she stomped heavily on Bunny's foot and ran back to join Jack like she was going to help defend him.

It was Jack's job to be the protector, not the other way around, so he shoved her behind him, and said, "We'll survive on our own in there if we have to, but - but you're not going to touch her again. Either of us. And," he added, spinning on Tooth, "you're not coming near either of our teeth, and I don't know what to warn you about North, but the same thing applies. I've been fighting monsters back home for years, I'm not afraid to add an overgrown rabbit and a couple of crazy adults to the list."

(Be careful with the mentors. All of them have killed people.)

2. Try to keep the startling revelations to a minimum.

Hastings pulled open the door to the little outdoor platform on the end of the train. Linda was hunched against the railing.

He made sure the door was shut before he started talking, and even then the first words out of his mouth were a charm to discourage eavesdropping. He leaned against the railing next to Linda. "This couldn't wait?"

She wouldn't look at him. "There's something you need to know. About Seph."

Hastings frowned. "What, that he's a wizard? I noticed that already. Got quite a handshake, that boy."

"He's my son."

Hastings took a half step back. "Your son." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Alright. Do you want to be the one to mentor him?"

She finally looked up at him. "He's your son too."

And that - that -

His hands felt hot enough to burn.

"And you never thought," he said dangerously quietly, "that I had a right to know? He's been running around hungry half his life, Linda! I used to see him at the inn!"

"Better hungry then dead as an object lesson," she hissed.

"Yes," Hastings said. "You wouldn't have wanted him to be reaped for the Games."

She crumpled in on herself. "I did the best I could. Maybe it was just chance - "

"They found out." They both knew it, he might as well say it. "They knew before I did." He stared blankly at the scenery blurring past. "We have to bring him home."

She looked up quickly. "You'll help?"

"He's my son," he said, testing the words for the first time. "They've taken everything else from me. They're not taking him."

(Of course, if not now, then when?)

3. Careful what you eat.

"That is your third glass of juice."

Edith slurped from the cup she was cradling with both hands. She didn't answer.

Gru threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! Do as you wish."

"At least she's doing better than Bob," Dr. Nefario said.

Gru looked at where Bob was collapsed in the corner, stomach extended from a banana binge.

"We are doomed," he said gloomily.

Edith wiped a hand over her purple stained mouth.

"Will you at least drink something red?" Gru pleaded. "It will look like blood."

She brightened. "Cool!"

He eyed her speculatively. "Hm. Only mostly doomed, then."

(Eat what you want. It might be your last chance.)

4. You are not responsible for your mentor's mental wellbeing.

Anne sat like a fine lady, back straighter than the Capital chair. Her food lay uneaten on the dainty china plate. Her face had gone white except for two bright spots of color on her cheeks.

The train ride had forced Diane to stay in the bathroom, face green. Gilbert had offered to fetch Anne for her or to stay himself, but she had firmly pushed him on.

"Anne . . . " he said helplessly.

"Have you given any thought to your strategy, Mr. Blythe?"

He took a deep breath. "Anne. This isn't you."

"And who are you to tell me who I am?" Anne snapped. "I can be cold and disagreeable if I want to, Gilbert Blythe!"

He breathed a sigh of relief, but he raised an eyebrow too. "If anyone gets to be disagreeable, don't you think it should be me? I'm the one who's going to die, after all."

"You are not going to die," she said viciously. "And I don't claim a monopoly on being disagreeable."

"Fair enough," he said, raising his glass in a toast. "Now. I'll eat if you will."

"You are not at all in practice for being disagreeable," she sniffed, but she was almost smiling.

(Keep in mind, though, it costs nothing to be kind.)

5. Don't announce your intention of breaking the most important rule in the Games.

Darcy leaned against the window. The glass was cold, but he was in too foul a mood to care.

Bingley joined him. He winced when he felt the glass. "I don't suppose - "

"No," Darcy bit out. He didn't have the patience to put up with Harriet's empty chatter at supper.

Anyone else would have given up and left Darcy to his temper. Bingley just nodded.

Darcy let a few minutes of silence pass before prodding his friend into action. "You're fidgeting, Bingley. You only do that when you're working yourself up to say something."

Bingley conceded the point with an uneasy smile. "I don't - " He took a deep breath. "I don't think I can kill anyone, Darcy."

"You'll do what you have to," Darcy said harshly.

Bingley looked almost apologetic. "Not all of us have your iron will. I can't just will myself to be something I'm not."

The fool had no idea just how dangerous his words could be if they were overheard. Darcy grabbed his arm. "You will try," he said, the steel in his voice ensuring it was not a question.

"Of course, Darcy," he said placatingly.

Darcy wanted to groan.

(No, really. Don't.)

6. Try not to act too crazy.

Morgan finally found Terence in a storage car perched on top of a stack of crates.

"Have you lost your mind?" she demanded.

"I couldn't let Gaheris go into the Games." He frowned at her. "He's your nephew. You shouldn't be complaining."

Morgan took a deep breath and resisted the urge to strangle him. "You do realize that if you die, your father will hold me personally responsible." The boy's foster father was one thing, but his real father . . . Morgan might not have declared herself Seelie, but she would never dare go up against Ganscotter.

Terence shrugged. "If I die, I go to Avalon, and my father can see me more often. I don't see what he'll have to complain about."

"Death," Morgan said with forced calmness, "is more complicated than that."

He hopped down from the boxes with eerie grace. "I'll just have to try not to die then, won't I?"

Morgan stared at him. "Suddenly your friendship with Gawain makes a horrible kind of sense. You're both utterly mad."

Terence grinned. "It's all that faerie blood in our veins."

"I've faerie blood too," she reminded him. "And I'm perfectly sane."

There was really no call for Terence to look so skeptical.

(Then again, you'll be in good company if you fail.)

7. Escorts can help you get sponsors. Try not to scare them off.

Rowan sat by the window with her legs wrapped in hot towels. It would keep the pain down for a while.

Marian touched her shoulder gently. "Can I get you anything?"

More time? An undoing of the curse? "No, thank you," she said automatically.

Marian didn't leave. "May I sit with you for a while?"

Rowan shrugged. She didn't care much either way.

Marian perched on the edge of the window seat. "Robin tells me your legs have been like this for a while."

Rowan looked down at her mangled legs. "The Peacekeepers set traps in the woods," she said in answer to the unspoken question. "I wasn't careful enough."

Marian looked horrified. "Why were you in the woods?"

Rowan shrugged and looked back out the window. "I'm the apothecary now. I have to get herbs somehow." It should be past tense now. She should have trained someone to take her place, but no one had seemed suitable.

"But you're so young."

Rowan blinked. What did that have to do with anything? "My mother died," she informed Marian. "Someone had to take over."

"I'm so sorry," Marian breathed.

"Don't be." It was a battle to keep her voice steady when all she could see was her mother's body lying broken at the edge of the woods, the Peacekeepers who had done the job swaggering away.

But then there had been the grove and her voice calling for her mother's people. The Peacekeepers had fallen over this past year, one by one, and now it was her turn to pay her due.

Marian was from the Capital though, so she didn't tell her that. Instead, she just smiled. "I took care of it."

Marian did not look reassured.

(If you're going to die anyway, it doesn't matter much.)

8. Don't fight with another tribute before you get to the arena.

Puck winced as Granny Relda cleaned the cuts on his face.

She frowned at him. "This shouldn't have happened."

"I wasn't the one who sprang at someone's face like my fingernails were claws!" Puck protested. "Yell at Moth, not me!"

"Mr. Canis is having a talk with Moth," Granny Relda said firmly. "I'm having one with you." She looked as stern as ever, but she looked old too. Older and wearier then she'd looked since her son was taken. "Why would you enter the Games, Puck?"

Puck let the last of the whining slide off his face. "I need an invitation to leave the District," he reminded her. "Can't get past the barrier otherwise."

Relda's face was still weary, but it held understanding now too. "Puck, I know you want to go after your parents - "

Puck laughed. If there was an edge to it, he couldn't help it. "Their Majesties are beyond my reach," he told her. "I'm more concerned with another debt."

That was as much as he could say when they might be overheard, but Relda understood.

For a moment, he could see the longing for her son. Then she pushed it down firmly. "There's nothing you owe my family that will be served by getting yourself killed."

"I'll never pay off anything if I keep piling up debt," he grumbled. The Grimms had fed him, sheltered him, hid him, and protected him, and he hadn't given enough in return. He needed to be able to afford his own house to bind with safe charms before he could really start evening the scales.

Relda's mouth was tight, but she'd learned not to argue with him about debt. "And Moth?"

"Moth tried to kill Sabrina and Daphne. She deserves what she gets."

"All right, Puck," she sighed. "Do it your way."

Faeries didn't care if they disappointed people.

Puck had been living with humans for too long.

(The fight isn't always your choice.)

9. Make a good impression on your mentor.

Marion had wrapped herself in blankets and burrowed into the couch in the lounge. She raised her eyebrows when Indy walked in. "You really need to stop yelling at our mentors."

Indy threw himself down beside her. "Marcus got lost on a train he's been traveling on for years, and Max is drunk. Again."

Marion scowled. "He's what?" She didn't wait for another confirmation. Instead, she threw off her blankets and stalked off to go find him.

Indy turned on the TV and sank further back into the cushions. He kept the volume low so he could hear the yelling echoing through the cars.

(Getting your mentor into fit condition to do their job may be more important.)

10. Hide your weaknesses.

"We're almost there. Before we arrive, we need to make a plan. Have a seat," Myrtle said.

Rhys sat on one end of the couch. Ella, used to subverting orders however she could, plopped down on the floor.

Myrtle started talking them through strategies. Ella absorbed every casually given order and tried to figure out how to get around them.

She was so used to trying to get around orders, she didn't stop to think about whether or not she should.

(Don't get so caught up with one weakness that you forget about the others.)

11. Do whatever your stylists tell you.

Kate looked down at her dress. Little sparks of electricity danced up the black material in a dazzling array that reminded her of stars.

Unfortunately, the neckline was like a diving bird. As in, it was plunging downward.

Tony poked his head in. "Is the stylist gone?" He scanned the room quickly and ducked inside. He grinned at her. "Technically, I'm not supposed to be here, but what the Capital doesn't know what hurt us." The grin faded. "You all right, Katydid?"

She'd ducked behind a tall chair when he walked in even though she knew it was stupid. The whole country would be seeing her soon enough. "Don't call me - " She caught herself. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"If you were fine, you would have finished that sentence," Tony pointed out.

She sighed. "McGee pointed out that this probably isn't the time to be antagonizing you."

"This is the perfect time to be antagonizing me! It'll get your fighting blood up."

She raised her eyebrows.

He grew more serious. "I'm going to get you through this, Kate. You snapping at me isn't going to change that. If ever there was a time when snapping was understandable, it's now, and you don't owe me anything here that you didn't back home."

"I didn't owe you anything back home."

"Exactly. And you don't owe them anything either. Which brings up the issue of your sudden shyness."

She reluctantly stepped out from behind the chair. "It seems a bit . . . low."

"Not exactly your usual style," he agreed. He glanced around and fixated on the machine that the food had popped out of. "Did you know that you can program what color napkins come out of this? And there's got to be a needle and some thread around somewhere."

She smiled in relief. "Thanks, Tony."

He winked at her. "Any time, Cathy-Cat."

She raised an eyebrow.

"No? I'll keep trying. Let's see, what about . . . "

(Unless your mentor is willing to help you sew napkins into your dress so well that no one except the stylist notices.)

12. Remember to trust no one.

Susan stood tall in the chariot as she waited for the parade to start.

She hated the makeup the stylists had forced her into. She'd spent her life trying to scrub the coal dust off, and now they wanted to paint it on.

At least she was covered, though. The mining outfit was baggy but functional, and she would stand proud no matter what else she had to deal with.

"Are you nervous?" Caspian murmured beside her.

"It'll be just like the plays at school," she said.

Caspian grinned. "A hundred people, a country, what's the difference?"

"Exactly." The music was starting. She took a deep breath.

The chariots in front of them were pulling out. Caspian's hands were shaking a bit. "I, unlike you, have not been in those plays. Would I presume too much if . . . ?" He held out a hand.

She clasped it tightly.

Lucy would be pleased, she thought a bit hysterically.

Then there was a blaze of color all around them, and if either of them was terrified, the crowd would never see it on their faces.

(Sometimes trust is worth the risk.)