As Finnick and I are ushered roughly through crowds of cameramen, Peacekeepers and citizens, I come to realise I have never been on a train. It's a simple thing (and not the most pressing matter), but for me it is followed by a lot of thoughts of all the things I will never do. I will never get a chance to do plenty of things, regardless of how pleasant or unpleasant they are. I'm from District Four and I don't even think I've been on a boat.

My train of thought is constantly being diverted. I don't feel myself walking but I am being pulled forward anyway. Time won't freeze, time won't rewind; it will only move me forward to what I know now is inevitable. As I am marched to our train station before the bridge, my body is numb except for my hands. They fiddle with the knots of my token as if independent from my control. It seems I have adopted the trait from Annie, just as Finnick has expertly copied next to me.

I am aware of only a few things. The looming shadow of my death, the two promises I have made, Finnick's shoulder brushing against mine and the occasional citizen calling our names. I feel time ticking away with every step I take. It's as if I can hear it running out, running away from me with all the opportunities I could have had. I realise I want nothing more than to stay put, but the unstoppable forces of time and Nova are reeling me forward closer and closer to me breaking a promise that I should not have made.

"Tributes!" Nova's shrill voice demands my attention instantly. In an instant she gestures for the Peacekeepers to disband and she lunges forward to grab our hands.

She flicks my wrist and I spin around to face a camera crew I was unaware of as well as a crowd I incredibly managed to remain oblivious to. Nova squeezes my wrist as if to tell me to start smiling but she is too late, I know what to do from all my preparation for this moment. I give a brilliant smile and wrestle my hand free from Nova's, jingling the charms on my bracelet as I do so. I wave with more enthusiasm than I have ever needed to have, then grab Finnick's arm and raise it with my own.

I know have blocked Nova from view when she makes the exasperated sound "Hmph!" but seconds later I hear her comment that sponsors always love a good smile and I think she has forgiven me.

When I am sure the cameras have stopped filming, I drop my smile a little and look out into the crowd for a familiar face. I find no one and perhaps it is better this way. I take one last look at my District and then turn my back to it for good, blocking their view of a tear slipping down my cheek. I take a deep breath and hear the sound of the station's enormous doors closing behind me as I walk straight into a surprise.

As I stare into a long line of Victors, it occurs to me that there must be some system involved for choosing mentors in districts with many Victors. I don't think there will be a reaping for the mentors, but perhaps I am wrong.

I feel Finnick's eyes on me and I turn my head to meet his gaze. I expect him to be confused or at least slightly alarmed, but his eyes aren't trained on me at all. He is looking at the old woman who requires a cane to support her as she stands with the other murderers. No, I think, murderer is too evil a word for her.

I don't have high views of the other Victors, but I do remember now that not all of them are vicious. I even think Mags might have been one of the first Victors, at a time where District Four were still unkeen to give up their children.

Maybe Finnick is thinking the same as me, or perhaps he just pities her, but I begin to hope Mags is my mentor because I don't see a Victor born from bloodshed in her; I see a survivor.

"Ah, marvellous!" chirps Nova. "We have our tributes this year and I think they'll make a fine pair for the Games."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and hope no one sees my disgust that I am only half-heartedly attempting to hide.

"Corella, Finnick," she addresses us, "You may choose your mentor now."

There are quite a few choices in front of me. Some are eager and following my eyes, begging for eye contact. Others are visibly inebriated either by drugs or alcohol. I don't even take a second to hesitate.

"Mags." I blurt out, but my voice seems to have taken a deeper undertone.

I soon realise it is because Finnick had spoken with me. We are unanimous in our choice.

Nova makes a noise that sounds like a suppressed scoff, but she doesn't object to Mags. Not directly, anyway.

"We are usually accustomed to two different mentors, however, I see no problem with having the same one."

Mags approaches us with her cane. She isn't immobile yet but it seems old age will soon catch up with her. She offers us a smile and I instinctively reach for her hand to help her.

"Thank you." she mumbles under her breath, but her smile remains constant.

I do not look at the other Victors as they part for us to reach the train. I don't want to, but I do hear sounds of confusion and maybe the odd complaint, yet overall it seems Finnick and I have interested them all.

Nova pushes me through an opening in a glass wall. I then notice that the glass curves even above me before I realise the glass is actually the train. It is luxury as I have never seen before. It even beats the Justice Building I saw only 30 minutes ago. The glass is spotless and offers a perfect view of everything outside it.

There are plush sofas in every direction and large screens appear as if from nowhere and light up with adverts from the Capitol. Everything is colourful and made of only the most beautiful fabrics or wood. Attendants stand in even intervals all the way down the winding corridors and they are ready to serve me with anything I could think of. Everything about the train screams luxury to me. I always knew the Capitol didn't spare any expense for the Games, but I never dreamed it would extend this far.

"Wow," Finnick breathes, "It's beautiful."

At the same time, Mags squeezes my hand and makes a gesture to the luxury, as if to say she knows that the circumstances are bad but at least I am alive now to experience all of this. I wonder if she is accustomed to this by now, for I don't think I could ever tire of it.

Nova excuses herself to change into another extravagant set of clothes while Finnick, Mags and I take a seat on the largest sofa of the compartment.

Mags reaches for something behind my head and Finnick offers to help her. Finnick produces my hairclip in his hands and I remember with a pang of sadness that it cannot be my district token now. I shake my hair loose and take the clip in my hands.

"You should keep that safe, you know," says Finnick, "It should stay with you since it's obviously special."

"It's alright, I'll think of something to do with it besides being a district token." I don't want to draw attention to Annie's gift and remind Finnick of our situation, so I continue the wonderfully ordinary yet indifferent conversation we're having. A few moments pass and nobody says anything. The fact that I don't know these people crashes down on me.

Mags nudges my arm and pulls Finnick's hand into hers.
"You two watch the reapings, I think I might take a nap." She says quietly and with her friendly smile.

All I can think about is the awkward silence Finnick and I are entering. I wish Mags had stayed for I don't know what I can say to him and I don't particularly want to watch the Reapings either. It's too silent and it begins to both annoy and frustrate me, but my emotions are interrupted by Finnick gasping in alarm.

"We're moving?" He murmurs, furrowing his brow.
He then looks up to me with a wild look in his eyes and I can't resist looking through the glass that surrounds me.

"We're moving!" I yelp.
The initial alarm dissolves into amazement that we are moving so incredibly quickly in silence through the landscape. There are trees everywhere and patches of overgrown grass spread out in every direction.

Trees, not sand.

"Finnick..." I trail off, noticing how excited he is as he presses his face against the glass to see every little detail. I quickly steady myself.

"Finnick, we didn't even get to look at District Four. It's gone by already."

This snaps him out of his craze and I feel a very heavy guilt creeping up on me that I interrupted him when he had managed to forget our situation and all the goodbyes he has only recently said.

At first I think he has not heard me and I begin to think it is better that way, but he peels his hands from the glass and leaves misty handprints behind.
"Oh." Is all he says as he slumps down into one of the armchairs available. I sit down nearby and try to think of something else to say but I'm not used to trying to make friends.

Instead I just ask a Capitol attendant to replay the Reapings as I have no experience in operating a television as grand as this. They haven't finished the actual Reapings yet so all that appears on the screen is Caesar Flickerman sporting a mint green hairdo and warming up the crowd.

I hardly notice Nova elegantly stride back in our compartment. She hastily comments that dinner will be in a few hours and we should be in the Capitol for 9 o'clock tonight. Before she leaves, she spots a pile of sugar cubes on the cart of warm beverages like tea and coffee.

"Ooh, sugar cubes. Now that takes me back." She delivers the line in such a way that it is all I can do to suppress a laugh. She glances at me as if she's divulged something she shouldn't and then hurries out of the compartment.

Perhaps it's the hysteria or maybe just that I don't have many laughs left, but I burst into a fit of giggles that I cannot stop. I am happy to find that Finnick is laughing too. It's a loud laugh that's so lively it's contagious, and I find myself thinking it's a lovely thing to have someone so lively in a situation as grave as ours.

In between laughs, Finnick manages to breathe out a sentence.

"What was...What was she doing with those sugar cubes?" He laughs heartily, like a little kid.

"I don't know but why was it so suggestive!?" I can't stop giggling and I have to contsantly remember to breathe. When I do, my ribs ache.

Finnick leaps up and runs across to the tea cart and throws one cube of sugar into his mouth. He pinches one between his thumb and forefinger and holds it away from his body, still laughing but trying to force himself to stop.
"Hey Corella," he begins and stifles a laugh, "Want a sugar cube?"

He says it so seductively and suggestively that I can't take him serious. When I finally stop laughing, he wiggles his eyebrows and it sets me off again.

It's contagious, and I accept his sugar cube when I bound up to the cart to meet him.

"That's all very good, but you obviously need work." I say.

"Excuse you, Miss Maritza. I thought I did fabulously!" He grins back, and I know I can't let this laughter end.

"Watch and learn," I reply.

I pull all of my hair over one shoulder, raise one brow, bite my lip and turn to him. I flip my hair, contort my face into one so unattractive it will obviously be seductive and then offer him a sugar cube with my best honey-coated voice.

He begins shrieking with laughter and the awkwardness between us is gone. It turns out that once you let someone see you at your most embarassing, you can't really go wrong with anything else.

Between theories of what Nova was talking about, our best seductive faces and our raucous laughter, I actually find a bit out about Finnick.
He's an only child but he's very close to his parents who make their living by fishing, as expected. Their family owns a store which sells bait as well as other fishing equipment like rods, tridents and fish traps. His favourite colour is the reflection of sunrise on the sea and he genuinely has a fondness of sugar cubes outside of them being used for hilarious jokes. He's consistently charming and I find myself liking him more and more the longer we talk. Of course, I tell him about me and my little hut. He says he is sorry that I never knew my parents and I explain to him that my hair clip was my mother's. He suggests Mags keep it safe for me but I brush off thoughts of parting with it by telling him it's obviously going to be Caesar Flickerman's newest accessory.

Speaking of Caesar Flickerman, he commands our attention to the screen during dinner (which was an endless banquet of deliciousness) and I quickly lose my appetite. He introduces us viewers to his studio in the Capitol before divulging what everyone is desperate to see: who got reaped?
From District One, a 13 year old girl is reaped but instantly replaced by a 16 year old volunteer called Caroline. She doesn't look vicious, but she does look dangerous. She's intelligent and admittedly very pretty. Her district partner is a 17 year old boy who kisses her cheek in a friendly manner; they obviously know each other well.
From Two the female tribute doesn't strike me as dangerous but I wouldn't overlook her. An 18 year old boy volunteers and I can tell he could be serious competition.
From Three nobody seems like too much of a threat and the screen transitions to District Four's beautiful ocean.

I force myself to stay calm and emotionless as I am forced to rewatch my own Reaping. They cut out Annie screaming for Finnick and make it seem like nobody volunteered because they were completely trusting of Finnick rather than it being because no one heard Nova and Annie's commotion distracted the crowd. Then I see Solana being chosen and I see what I didn't get to when I was standing behind her. She was crying hysterically and her little sister was in complete distress. Then I see me and it's exactly how I wanted it to appear. I am cold. I am confident. I will not be ignored.

I'm glad they have presented me in the way I wanted. Nobody will know about the wreck that I am inside. Caesar comments on how great it is that I am keeping up the noble tradition of volunteering in District Four. It seems that rewatching this has awoken the cunning side of me and I willingly embrace it as I need all the help I can get in surviving.

After that, the only tributes I make a note of are the girl from District Six with a scar on her face, the girl from Nine who is the mayor's daughter and then the boy from Eleven who is malnourished but hasn't seemed to have given up. All the tributes from the other districts are either of average health or severely underfed. I feel sad for them and guilty as I remember all the baskets of food I have been given every week. When was the last time any of them ate?

I don't feel like eating and excuse myself from the table. Mags squeezes my shoulder as I pass by and I am briefly comforted. After Finnick has ate sufficient, he joins me near the back of the train and we look out of the windows as the distant lights of District One fade away into darkness.

We don't really say anything, but it isn't awkward as it was before. He even casually puts his arm around me and tells me we'll be okay in the end. I look up to his face and his eyes search mine for an answer. I want to believe him, but I can't.

I find myself resting my head on his shoulder out of the camaraderie that a vain escort and sugar cubes created. I think about "Fate" for a little bit. I whole-heartedly trust Finnick as if we've been friends all our lives. Maybe if Fate had a different plan we really could have been friends for all that time, it wouldn't be hard to believe. I feel like a few hours has made a difference to me. I am fiercely protective of Finnick and I think that maybe he's protective of me, too. I also wonder what it would have been like to have a sibling. Maybe I did have one at some point. I think Finnick would make a good older brother.

It's increasingly difficult to imagine that in a few days the odds are that we'll both be dead and gone. He's so full of life that I can't see him anywhere else but living, loving and laughing vibrantly on the waves of District Four.

When our train breaks its silence and the scenery falls away, one more day has already left us. As our train pulls into the Capitol, I have a new determination that drives me. Someone so vivacious as Finnick and someone who clings to life as tightly as I do can surely do something to get one of us out alive.

"Y'know, Finnick," I say to him, "We will be okay in the end."