Train Rides

Caged

District Two Female

Saffron Ausbern, 18

Saffron stalked into the train carriage, and dropped into the couch. From the peripheral of her vision, she could see Noble conversing with their mentors. Probably trying to kiss up to them, she figured. She didn't care though. Her eyes trailed down to her calloused hands, and she balled them into fists. Finally, she had gotten what she wanted.

"Saffron, right?" a deep voice cut in.

Saffron's head snapped up, green eyes meeting with Noble's deep blue ones. He held out a hand to her, smiled.

"Of course I'm Saffron, you twat," she snarled, ignoring his hand. "Were you conveniently deaf when that woman called my name?"

Noble's eyebrow twitched. She smiled in satisfaction. It felt good to irritate him like that. It would be even better if she could rile him up even further. Noble Belaire; she heard of his family. They sucked up to the Capitol by giving them horses to use for the chariot rides. Such people would never experience the other end of the spectrum since they already had it all. Her upper lip curled into a sneer.

"Ca-calm down," their escort stammered out. "Let's watch the Reapings recap!"

Saffron's eyes flicked to Nerissa and Dian. Dian had an awfully wry expression whereas Nerissa calmly sipped her tea. It made Saffron wonder if Nerissa even cared about what was going on.

"Of course I was," Noble snapped after a few moments, completely ignoring Calandia. "I was just confirming that you were the daughter of that sex buddy. Ausbern, right?"

Black dots exploded in Saffron's vision as she jumped up from her seat, leaping at him.

She wasn't his daughter. She would never acknowledge her father as hers.

Before she could get her hands around his neck though, someone had stepped in front of her, and threw her to the ground. Pain ricocheted through her. But it was enough to get her back to her senses. At the back, Saffron could hear Calandia tittering nervously. There was that sound of a teacup being placed back on its saucer.

"Enough, Saffron. It wouldn't do to kill Noble outside the arena."

Nerissa came into vision, hovering above the sprawled Saffron.

"Then I'll kill him in the arena," she answered coolly, remnants of her rage ebbing away.

A thin smile spread over Nerissa's lips.

Pushing herself up, Saffron massaged her neck a little. Dian stood at the side, and she narrowed her eyes at him. He was the one that threw her. A bit more force and she would have been incapacitated.

She walked past Noble as she headed back to her seat. Though soft, she could hear him mutter, "I'll like to see you try."

She shot him a savage grin.

The television turned on then, and Saffron turned to it. She arched an eyebrow when she saw an advertisement for dolls. They were at the wrong channel, she supposed.

"Ooh, they look pretty," Calandia gushed from behind.

"The recaps," Dian prompted.

"Oh, right!"

The channel changed, and they were at the Reapings recap. Just in time, she saw the District One male walk up to the stage. She focused on the appearance of the two tributes; more interested in sizing them up. It made sense if the Career districts sent in only their best. Saffron narrowed her eyes, lips curling up into a smirk. Then that meant everything would be all the more fun once she entered the arena. The higher the stakes were, the more dangerous things became, and the more people could be rattled when something shocking happened.

The Reapings went on to District Two's. Saffron watched hers, and smiled when she saw how composed she was. Her grin grew even bigger when she saw her sadistic smile flashed at the cameras. Sadism was hardly something she was personally fond of, but if the angle worked well then she would play along with it.

"Will you be in the Career Pack?" Noble asked her suddenly.

She hid her surprise at the sudden question well.

"Of course. What's with that ridiculous question?"

"You seem like the type to strike out alone. Honestly, I'll be surprised if they accepted you."

Her smile was frigid.

"We were both picked because we are the best trainees District Two has. If you're surprised I'm going to be accepted, then obviously you lack a brain cell or two."

"Colour me surprised. I thought you were picked because you managed to convince everyone that you wanted to bring honour and glory to our home. Well, I'll tell you now that that will be me."

Someone sighed from behind them, but they were not stopped.

Saffron clenched her fist, willing herself not to punch Noble's lights out. People like him were the absolute worst. There were the ignorant, and then there were those who thought their background and wealth automatically put them on a pedestal. They looked down on those lesser than them, those less fortunate. Her eyes glittered with anger as she stared at the television, not even seeing the screen anymore.

Honour and glory? Fuck that. The district was too restrictive. Too many rules and regulations in place, too much surveillance. Training helped her to focus and vent. The dark maelstrom of bitterness and anger could be displaced elsewhere. It made her feel lighter. But, she was still too constricted.

The arena would allow her to fly free.

She would be able to do what she truly desired.

District Three Male

Caden Kober, 14

Theia reminded Caden of his younger self.

Something about the way she flinched whenever Yared came too near, and the clothing she wore. The sleeves were too long, and obviously too warm for her since she pulled at the collar every few seconds. She sat at the furthest end of the sofa, away from everyone else. But, each time Yared talked to her, Theia smiled brightly.

It disgusted Caden.

How could someone still smile so brightly after all that? He tried looking at her eyes, wanting to see if they were as brilliant as her smile. But her eyes expertly avoided his, focusing only on Yared before going back to the screen.

Caden continued staring at Theia, not even hearing Yared talking to him. He knew of her; she was insanely popular at school. Ebony had talked about her a few times, said how she hated Theia, and was going to vote for her. If Julian couldn't keep his eyes away from Theia and on his girlfriend, then his district partner had it coming. It was her fault for flaunting her beauty and getting everyone to look at her. Of course she would be hated.

But, she still managed to laugh as if nothing was wrong at all.

His grip tightened on his aged silver pocket watch. It was sickening. How could someone still be so happy? They had just been reaped for the Hunger Games! He stopped staring and looked at the screen, glaring holes into it. Maybe she was one of those sociopaths who climbed the social ladder to manipulate everyone. That made perfect sense. She deserved to die if that was the case.

"Caden!" Theia called.

"What?" he turned to face her.

She looked slightly taken aback; he wondered why. There was no way that someone as scheming as her would be so surprised, especially not after she replaced Fallon as most beautiful and popular girl. To Caden, Fallon was the prettiest girl in the whole district.

"That's a nice token," she said smiling.

The way she said it sounded genuine. Still, he regarded her warily. Didn't she feel any anger or hatred at the district for voting them in? He could not trust her. He looked back at the television.

"Yours is too. That necklace thing, right?" It had a lightbulb pendant hanging off it.

"Yup!"

The District Five female was making her up to the stage now. She looked pathetic for someone older than him. The male was called next. Caden had to say that Valour's reaction was even worse than that female.

"So," Yared suddenly spoke up from the other couch,"will you two ally together? I think it would be good."

Caden was aghast.

"Of course not!" he spluttered, looking over at Theia as he said it. What looked like hurt registered on her face for a few seconds before she smiled. It looked so forced.

"Well, if Caden doesn't want to, then it's fine. I'll just find other allies!"

How sad she sounded made Caden feel slightly guilty. His rejection was too harsh. Nevertheless, he refused to apologise.

Yared sighed. "Let's continue watching the Reapings."

Was there really much of a point to watching the Reapings? The reactions by the tributes could always be faked. Though, Caden supposed that looking pathetic would actually be real. It seemed pretty hard to fake tears and that woe is me expression.

His thumb circled the top of his token, feeling its cracked surface. It had already been a year since they reconciled, but Caden had thought that his father would not see him during the goodbyes. But he had come, and given him this old watch that he treasured. His dad came with his mom too. Thinking about it again, hope sparked in Caden that they would get back together. His childhood was not even close to excellent, but it seemed as though his father was good for his mother...? The more he thought about it, the more he remembered those times of emptiness.

Times when it was just him and darkness.

Times when he tried so hard to protect Celeste.

Biting down on his bottom lip, Caden abruptly stood up and headed over to where the food was. He stuffed a chocolate muffin into his mouth, biting off a large portion. Unconsciously, his right hand tugged his sleeve down, trying to hide the faded scars on his arm. Just a few months had passed since his mother stopped hitting her children; him and Celeste. But, if somehow she started again, then his younger sister would be all alone with no one to rely on.

He ripped off another portion of the muffin and chewed it angrily. The tears started welling up again. They spilled.

"Yared, Caden's crying!" Danyl yelled. "What do I do?"

Fear, so much fear and anger in him. It felt like something in him was scrabbling to come out. He hated the district, he hated them so much for voting him in. He hated his parents for treating their children like that.

"Caden, what's wrong?" Yared asked, coming to kneel beside him.

Caden looked at his mentor, then at Theia and saw her worried expression. He stood up and fled to his room. Throwing himself onto the bed, he started sobbing into the pillow. He never wanted any of this. What did he even do to deserve this?

It was just him and solitude now. No one else would be here to hear him cry. The fear felt so suffocating.

All the while, he clung onto his father's pocket watch as if it were his only lifeline.

District Twelve Male

Grey Darkwood, 18

"Have you decided on any potential alliances?" Oksana asked.

"Not yet. It would be better to talk to the other tributes first," Grey answered.

"How about you, Ash?" she asked, turning to the younger girl.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I'll have to interact with the other tributes first. I'm definitely getting allies though."

She cast a glance towards Grey, one that he recognised as hope. It reminded him of his ally strangely enough. That time, it was fading hope. This was bright. He offered a smile to her, then turned back to the recaps. They were showing District Nine now. He smiled when he saw Nim onstage. It lasted briefly, disappearing entirely once he heard her name being called.

He stared at the screen, disbelieving. Nim was standing up, making her way over to the escort.

A growl of agitation tore through him as he slammed his fist on the table. How dare they?

"Grey? Are you alright?" Ash asked.

He forced a smile and sat back down.

"Nothing," he replied. "It's nothing."

Everyone in the carriage knew he was lying, and he knew that. But he didn't want to explain himself to a stranger. It was bad enough that he was chosen. It was even worse that Nim had also been chosen. Frustration clawed at him. He wanted to hurt something, someone very badly.

He closed his eyes, trying to get himself to calm down. Lyulf and Oksana left him alone which he appreciated. The images of her Reaping played out over his mind; her clenched fists, her shaking body. He knew her well, maybe a little too well, but they became incredibly close friends over the two years after she won. No amount of crying and screaming would reverse time. He never wanted to enter the Hunger Games again.

He never thought he would be reaped along with Nim.

Opening his eyes again, he stared up at the familiar ceiling. The chandelier that hung from it was still the same as three years ago. He knew that if he looked out of the window, he would see the same greenery rushing past. It was all the same, but nothing was the same anymore.

Being angry would not help. It would not solve anything. He had to start thinking. He already won this once; he held an advantage. Deep down, he personally doubted that he would be able to again. The fact that he was a Victor meant he would be marked right from the beginning. Fending off the Career pack would most certainly spell his death. But, he refused to join them. He would be back-stabbed the moment he entered the arena.

But the anger still remained in him, made even worse by the fact that it was restrained. Balling his hands into fists, his fingernails dug into his flesh. He gritted his teeth and took deep breaths to calm himself. The anger faded away though not by much. He tried his best to ignore it.

Looking over at Ash, he wondered if he should ally with her. He did not know the reason for her being chosen, though her relieved expression still left a question mark. The little he did know pertained to fighting skills. He refrained from asking though. He wanted to meet Nim first and settle everything with her.

He would think further, but his mind was too much of a disorganised mess to really strategise. There was still time left, enough time for him to finish his planning and hope it worked. He would have to protect Nim, and try not to die before her. The effect that would have on her was not something he liked to think about. It brought back those unwanted memories of those nights. When he was barely able to hold her together.

Grey returned his attention back to the screen again. The recaps were now at District Ten. It would be hard to gather much of an impression from the tributes without interacting with them, but he could also guess at who would not pose a threat at all.

Grey smiled at Lyulf, and the older Victor nodded. Grey knew he understood, that was all he needed.

Truthfully, Grey didn't think he could come out of this alive.

Out of twenty-two tributes, he was advantageous in that he experienced the Hunger Games already. He knew how it was like. He was intelligent, he would be able to gain sponsors easily. There was almost no one he was attached to. Almost. It was Nim who threw everything off. It was selfish, but he hoped that if Nim died, it would be by someone else's hands and not his. He didn't know if he would be able to kill her.

Retreating into that shell of his for now seemed to be for the best. He couldn't run away forever. But he had been running for a long while already.

Just a bit more would be fine.

If reality didn't satisfy, he would return to where he knew best. To where logic and intelligence ruled everything.

Turning his head to the window, he saw the familiar scenery. He barked out a bitter laugh. Of the two times he rode in this carriage, both were also bringing him to his uncertain death. He came out alive once. It probably would not happen a second time.

District Eight Female

Solis Aisling, 13

Solis stared down at her token; a book on the different types of materials.

Would her next sibling be a boy or a girl?

Her lower lip quivered, but she managed to still herself. No tears, no tears. She did it earlier. She would be able to do it now. To her side, Mordant was quiet with the occasional sniffle. Radek had tried to talk to them earlier, but neither of them gave much of a response. The television was blaring, showing the Reapings recap but with commentary this time.

Curling up in her corner, Solis hugged her book tightly to her chest. Solange, her older sister, gave it to her. Solis was glad for that; the book held a special significance to her. Peeling her thoughts off her family before she thought about her, Solis focused on the recaps.

She sat up straight, ensuring that she appeared prim and proper. Glancing over at Mordant, she saw that he was finally paying attention to the screen as well.

"Are you two willing to listen now?" Radek asked as he came to sit in between them.

"Of course," she answered coldly.

"Ye-yeah," Mordant stammered out.

"Alright," Radek said. "First, we watch the Reapings. It goes without saying that you must avoid the Careers, but we'll be able to analyse the other tributes as well, and maybe find potential allies."

Solis shrugged. Fair enough. Returning back to the Reapings, she saw that they were now showing District Ten. She wondered if Safira had to experience this; sitting through this with Radek. Looking up at the older man, she saw how shadowed his eyes were, how weary he looked. She turned back to the screen. That was of no concern of hers. Her only concern was to come back alive, however much she personally doubted that possibility.

Would her next sibling be a boy or a girl?

That thought slammed into her again. Her grip tightened on her book, fingernails digging into its cover. Rapidly, she blinked back tears.

She was replaceable.

No one would miss her.

Then, she gritted her teeth and refocused. That was their fault! If they didn't like her, it was their problem. She was who she is. If they could not accept that, then fine. She would win the 25th Hunger Games, come back, and rub it all in their faces. That she won at the tender age of thirteen.

She wouldn't be replaceable if that happened.

Her mother would not forget her.

"-lis? Solis?"

Radek's voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to look at him.

"Yes?"

"You looked a little preoccupied there," he said.

"I was only thinking." She glanced at Mordant and saw how rigid he was despite his obviously plastered on brave look. "You should take care of Mordant more. He looks like he'll die earlier than me."

"So-"

She turned her head away from him, ignoring him. The Reapings were much more interesting than this awkward atmosphere hanging between all of them. Behind them, she could hear Leif still chewing loudly on the various snacks. He was slurping a drink as well. Her nose wrinkled. It was disgusting. The way he ate and drank was disgusting. Sighing, she wondered why her district partner had to be so weak. She was hoping he would be someone strong so she could latch onto him.

Watching the Reapings, she saw the two tributes from Eleven. They were all cursed, weren't they? The ones who were chosen because they were expendable. She opened her book and ran her finger up and down a page, feeling its roughness. She could probably guess at why she was chosen. Not many, if any, liked her.

She closed her book and would have continued watching the recaps, if not for Radek speaking to her again.

"What?" she demanded, facing him.

"You should eat something before we hit the Capitol," he said, gesturing to where Mordant was already eating with the escort. They seemed to be getting along pretty well. Seeing how they ate like a bunch of pigs, she wasn't surprised.

"Only if they stop eating so messily," she answered.

"You're so rude!" Leif exclaimed as he stuffed a pastry into his mouth.

"Solis," Radek said.

If her hair was not tied into a ponytail, she would have tossed it. Now, she just sniffed and walked over to the table. She set her book down on a clean spot before sitting. Gingerly, she reached for a cupcake and bit into it. Her eyes widened as the sweet taste exploded in her mouth.

Sweet, too sweet.

But she resisted spitting it out, and forced herself to finish it. She gulped down a cup of water after that to wash away the taste.

Leif chortled. "Can't handle it?"

"Your cooks are horrible," she said bluntly.

Taking a few moments of satisfaction from his contorting face, she turned back to watch the Reapings. Her eyes flicked to Mordant. He was still gobbling down his food. Her upper lip curled in distaste. Food was spraying everywhere. She moved her chair further away. Looking at the screen again, she watched the girl from Twelve climb up the stage. Who was called next made Solis freeze.

"Grey Darkwood."

Grey Darkwood.

The Victor of the 22nd Hunger Games. The very same Hunger Games that Safira had died in.

Solis' body started shaking. Someone spoke -it sounded like Mordant- but she did not hear anything. Her older sister died because of him. He had walked away when she needed water badly, and she was his ally. Blinking fast, willing the tears back, Solis tried to look away, but she continued staring at the screen. Her heart squeezed painfully.

Something wet trickled down her cheeks. Safira who protected her, Safira who gave her attention, Safira who loved her.

Safira who was forgotten by their mother.

Solis burst into tears.

Around her, she could hear the voices of the other three. But they all seemed so faint and distant, as if they belonged in another world altogether. Someone pulled her into his arms, saying words of comfort. It all jumbled together, and made absolutely no sense.

Severed ties leave you here in your fiction, alone where the dreams only die

A/N: Our first four tributes!

Questions:

Which of these tributes stood out to you?

Any particular one you liked?

In other news, The Winter Palace should see an update tomorrow if all things go according to schedule.

Next chapter: Chariot Prep