Toby Darya, 14
District Seven Standard Male

As the doors to the train closed, separating the tributes from the throng of people at the station, Toby Darya turned and smacked his brother in the head.

"Toby!" exclaimed Moss, reeling from the impact. "What was that for?"

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you volunteer for the Games?"

"Why wouldn't I volunteer? I wanted to make sure I could keep you safe."

Toby groaned. "Did you not think that I would be capable of handling the Games myself?"

"Toby," Moss replied sadly, "you're fourteen. How many Victors have won at age fourteen?"

"Two," a deep voice replied. "As well as two at thirteen and two at twelve. Out of 99 Victors." Toby looked up to see one of his district partners, Helena Blackwell, emerge from a shadowy corner of the room, camouflaged by the dark mahogany walls of the train car. He'd almost forgotten that the taller woman was there; she was almost as stoic and reserved as the furniture around her. "Technically, anyone stands some chance in the Games. But your chance is much smaller."

Toby threw his hands up exasperatedly and stormed off to the couch, which he unceremoniously flopped on. He was fourteen whole years old now! Sure, Toby was not an adult, nor was he even almost an adult, but he wasn't an incompetent baby. Especially in a Games like these, where it seemed like things would be… well, maybe not better, but different than normal, Toby was sure that he would be able to handle them on his own. He was finding his own way in the world; were the Games really any different?

But as confident as Toby was in his ability to survive – maybe not unscathed, but at least to live to see his fifteenth birthday – the nagging thought of the worst-case scenario persisted in his mind. He and his only sibling were both on a train to the Capitol, to an Arena where anything could happen. He couldn't shake the feeling that, if Moss were not here, his own odds would be better. His familial allegiance, that gut instinct to step in and protect his older brother if Moss was in danger, would only decrease his chances of winning. Even worse, Moss had the same instinct towards Toby, if not an even stronger one. If Moss sacrificed himself for Toby, the boy didn't know if he could deal with whatever happened afterwards; there was no way he could live with Moss's blood on his hands, with his last memory of Moss's face being whatever the Capitol chose to show in the sky.

Toby wasn't sure whether he was more frustrated by the fact that Moss didn't think he could win, or by his hunch that Moss's presence would only make the Games worse. And he was not thrilled in the slightest that he was about to find out.

"OK, sure, I might not have the best chances. But now we're both going into the Games instead of just me," Toby pointed out.

"And we could both come out alive!"

"Or we could both die. And then who would Dad have left?"

"But we're not both going to die."

"But we might."

"But we're not."

"But we might!"

"For someone who was so confident that he could survive the Games, you sure seem nervous now," the voice of Johanna Mason rang out. The tributes turned to see her leaning in the doorframe, where she'd been watching the argument between the brothers unfold for who knew how long. Toby looked back towards her nervously; like most kids in Seven, he'd always been intimidated by Johanna, so simply being in her presence was making an already nerve-wracking day that much worse.

"Hey, go easy on him," Blight Talloaks, Seven's oldest living Victor, joined in, sliding around Johanna to enter the car. Blight was trailed by the third and newest of Seven's living Victors, the perpetually terrified Reth Rubrum. "He's had a hard day. They all have."

"Can't I just poke a little fun?" Johanna replied, following the men into the car.

"Johanna…"

"Fine."

Blight took a seat on the couch next to Toby. "All right, we should start talking some strategy. I know that today has been a bit crazy and that we're getting into this pretty quickly, but we want to make sure to use every second of time we have before you guys get into that Arena. Yes, more than one person can leave the Arena alive. But even if four tributes can be crowned Victors, double the odds of a normal year, that's still forty-four tributes who die. And with double the tributes in the Arena, that's double the variables that we have no control over. What we do have control over are the four of you and the choices that you make in the lead-up to the Games." Toby's head was spinning as he tried to follow all of the numbers Blight was throwing out. Were his odds better this year, or worse? It seemed as though Blight couldn't decide, which didn't make Toby feel much better.

"Which brings us to the questions of how you want to be mentored, and how to handle alliances," Johanna jumped in, causing Toby to breathe a small sigh of relief. "We think it is in all of our best interest to mentor and work as a full district team, meaning that the four of you will ally together and not with anyone else."

"Why?" Helena asked simply, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. "What advantage does that give us?"

"Well, first of all," Blight began, "there's no reason for you guys to be working against each other this year, when multiple of you, even all of you, could come out alive. Pitting you guys against each other in different alliances, even with the understanding that you all won't kill each other if you come across each other, is dangerous because one of your allies from another district could if you run into each other in combat."

"We also have it on decent authority that a number of other districts are going to be sticking closely together, or at least trying to," Reth timidly added, "mostly the districts with legitimately strong contenders. And between Moss and Helena, we have some pretty strong contenders this year."

"But… then how do we cover the skills we're missing?" Toby asked. "Things that we can't have learned in Seven, or that none of us are good at."

Johanna asserted, "Training. Two and a half days is more time than you think."

"Is this something we have to do?" Helena asked.

The mentors exchanged a series of looks. "It's not mandatory, but we think that this is the smartest strategy that gives all of you the best chance of coming out alive."

"I like this idea," Amber piped up, the small girl looking up at her district partners with her deep, wide eyes. "I feel safer being with people I know."

"I like it too," Moss said. "We'll be safest if we stick together."

"Toby?"

Toby thought for a moment. Everything in him wanted to say no, to say, "I can do this myself, and I don't need allies," and to leave the car. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he couldn't really turn his back on his district partners, at least not yet. He was fully aware of the fact that the mentors controlled the sponsor funds and could easily withhold sponsor gifts from him if he went against their plan, no matter how good his reason was. Furthermore, he knew how much it would hurt Moss if they split up at this stage; the last thing he wanted was to make Moss so upset that he had no chance at winning. As much as he hated it, the best move was to agree for the time being, and to reevaluate when it got closer to the Games.

"Works for me," Toby replied, doing his best to hide the lack of enthusiasm in his voice. Moss came over to the couch and put a warm hand on Toby's shoulder, rubbing the younger boy's back for a moment.

Everyone in the room turned to look at Helena as a tense silence fell over the car. Toby tried to get a sense of what she was thinking, but the older tribute maintained the same stoic mask as she had since she'd been reaped. After a tense moment, the woman said, "I think I'd rather not work with the others," then turned and walked out.

"Why don't you guys start working on a training strategy?" Blight suggested, a slight stutter to his voice. "I'll go try to talk to her."

"All right," Johanna said. "Let's go to the table and get to work."

As Toby stood up and migrated over to the table, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the door through which Helena had exited. How badly he wished that he had her confidence, her sense of self, her independence. But that wasn't in the cards for him, at least not now. The Games were probably not the time to go against the grain; it was more important to follow along because any misstep could cost you your life.

And yet, Toby couldn't help but hope that he'd find a way to get just a taste of Helena's independence. But was a little independence worth potentially sacrificing his life?

Lambell Rose, 12
District Ten Standard Female

This was not supposed to happen.

For her whole life, Lambell Rose had been told that she had no reason to fear the Reaping. Her father had told her over and over that, between his connections as a Victor and his connections as the mayor of Ten, she would never have to worry about the Hunger Games. But there was nothing her father could do about the election process; he said that it was unfair and unethical of him to tamper with the votes because it would lose him the confidence of the district. But Lambell had been all-too confident that she would not get picked. Why would the district choose her? Her father was a good mayor, and Lambell knew that there had to be other girls in the district who had done worse things than she had. But here she was, stuck on this train, ricocheting towards what would, no matter what, be the worst experience of her life.

What did Lambell do to deserve this?

Lambell sat alone in her quarters, watching the rolling fields of Ten pass by as the train journeyed towards the Capitol. It was a sight she was somewhat used to; she'd traveled with her father to the Capitol a number of times before, both for the Games and to accompany him on business trips. But this was the first time that Lambell was journeying to the Capitol without her father. The mentors had decided – whether with Mosule's input or not, Lambell wasn't sure – that Mosule would not be allowed to mentor that year. It wouldn't be fair, they explained, because he would be too biased towards his daughter to do his job appropriately. Lambell was not happy when her "mentor," Vlada, had explained the situation to her. How was that fair to Lambell? This was literally his job! So what if he hadn't mentored once since he became mayor? She deserved to have her father's help, and if he couldn't be her mentor, then she didn't want anyone else to be her mentor. Lambell could figure out a strategy all by herself.

Or at least, that's what Lambell told herself. Deep down, Lambell knew that she was not the smartest person in the world. She might be able to read other people well, a skill that she'd learned from her father, but she wasn't the type of girl who would be able to come up with a detailed strategy to account for everything she might encounter in the Games. More importantly, she knew that she was far from the biggest or strongest tribute entering the Games. In order to win, she needed to find someone who could keep her safe during the Games, who could act as a shield for her to keep her alive. And if they could help her strategize, that was a bonus.

In that case, her best bets for allies were probably the Wayland siblings.

Lambell didn't want to ally outside of her district, because anyone from another district would prioritize the life of their district partners over her. She could work with Hodge if need be; the two of them had been operating in the same circles for much of their lives, as they were both in the upper echelon of District Ten. But Hodge was not a particularly strong person, neither physically nor emotionally. The Waylands, on the other hand, would be physically stronger from working in the fields, as well as mentally stronger from all the hardships they had to endure, being that they lived so far away from everyone else in the district, and likely in squalor. If anyone could guide her through the hardships of the Games, it would be the two of them.

Task in mind, Lambell took a moment to collect herself before going to look for her district partners. Her face was still somewhat red from her tears, an understandable situation given that she'd thrown two separate tantrums that day. But she had to appear as put-together as possible to convince someone to be her ally. Lambell had seen her father try to make deals in the Capitol before, and he rarely had a deal fall through, so all she needed to do was act as much like her father as she possibly could. And how hard could that possibly be?

Standing up as straight as she could, Lambell left her quarters and headed to the common area of the car, where she found Viktor and Rowena sitting with their mentors, Bat Watson of the 60th Games and Hawk Hawkins of the 93rd. Both Bat and Hawk had real names, as far as Lambell knew – no parent in their right mind would name their son Hawk Hawkins – but it was a tradition in Ten to give the Victors nicknames based on how they won their Games. The nicknames didn't always take, but those that did were often the ones that commemorated the more iconic Victories, such as Hawk's brave flight on a hawk's back to avoid the Career pack and Bat's Victory in a pitch-black Arena. A small part of Lambell had always wondered what her nickname would be if she was ever a Victor – not that she had ever wanted to find out.

"Viktor, Rowena," Lambell said, completely disregarding any conversation that they might have been having with their actual mentors. "I have a proposition for you."

Viktor slowly turned his head to look at Lambell. Daggers flew out of his eyes, but Lambell stood her ground. A little intimidation wouldn't deter her; she was her father's daughter after all. "What is it?"

"I think we should be allies. I'm only twelve, so I know I need protection. But I can provide sponsor money from my father's connections. So I think an alliance would be very beneficial to all of us, especially because we all can live."

Viktor leaned back. "Oh, so now you need our help."

"What do you mean?"

"Just a few days ago, when you rammed into our wagon on the way to North City, you had no interest in interacting with any of us. We were 'too poor' and not worth your time. But now that your life is in danger, you come crawling back to those beneath you?"

"That's not…"

"Our answer is no. Absolutely fucking not."

"Viktor…" Rowena tried to break in, but her brother put his hand over her mouth.

"Get out of this compartment. Why would we ever want to ally with a prissy rich brat like you?"

"Fine. I didn't need you anyway," Lambell spit, then turned and stormed out of the compartment. She didn't need the Waylands to win the Games. She still had Hodge, and the two of them combined would bring in more sponsor money than any other district. Even better, Hodge was about as weak-willed as they come, if his susceptibility to dares at parties was any indication. With Lambell there to drive the two of them forward, and with Hodge there to protect her and to listen to her strategies, there was no way they could lose.

Or at least, there was no way Lambell could lose. If she lost Hodge along the way, then that was how it would have to be.

Runar Theron, 16
District Five Standard Male

The world outside was flying by, the greens of the trees and the grass blurring together in one abstract blob. It was hard for Runar Theron to tell whether his vision was so blurry because the train was moving so fast, or because he still had not stopped crying.

It was probably a mix of both.

As horrible as the situation was, there was something… almost exciting to Runar about getting to see more of the country. He had always wondered what the rest of Panem looked like, but he never thought that he'd get a chance to see anything outside of District Five. But Runar hadn't particularly wanted to leave his family and friends, not to mention that most people who left the district never came back, a fact that Runar knew all too well. After all, Runar's mother had not seen her husband once after he disappeared; he'd left her alone with a memory of his name, Alec Vacker, and (nine months or so after he left) a child that looked like him. For all the Therons knew, Alec could be anywhere in Panem.

To be fair, he also could be dead.

Runar, of course, didn't want to think his father was dead. It was a rather morbid assumption to make, especially with no proof. Not that it was unlikely that his father was dead, but Runar preferred to think that Alec was alive. It meant that where he was, what he was doing, was a mystery.

And there was nothing that Runar liked better than a good mystery.

As Runar kept watching the world fly by, looking out the window across from the couch he was sitting on, he caught sight of a flock of birds, flying high in the sky in the same direction as the train. How cool would it be to see what those birds saw: the whole country of Panem from above? But alas, he was stuck on this train; on his way to his biggest adventure yet, sure, but also on his way to his likely demise.

Desperate to get his mind off of things, Runar opened the book he had brought with him, a mystery novel called The Finley Files. Well, it was less of a book and more of a collection of yellowed pages, haphazardly held together with tape and bits of wire tied through holes that had worn into the paper over time. The book told the story of Adonis Finley, a teenage detective who helped solve a number of smaller crimes while trying to crack the case of a Capitol spy who disappeared. Of course, the Peacekeepers didn't particularly want the help of a scrawny teenager, but Adonis was persistent, and he seemed to be doing a pretty good job. The problem was that the book had no ending. Runar had no idea if Adonis succeeded or failed, if they found the man or if he was lost forever.

Runar flipped through the well-worn pages, skimming until he found his favorite chapter of the book. He had found The Finley Files, or what of it existed, in his mother's office one day when he was eight years old. It turned out that she had written it – and it was really good! – but for some reason, she just could never finish the book. Knowing that his mother had written these mysteries herself had only piqued Runar's interest more. He began to consume every mystery book he could, with a slight preference towards the murder mysteries if he was being honest with himself, but he always found himself gravitating back to The Finley Files. Not only was it his mother's own work, but it was also incomplete; Runar could imagine whatever ending he wanted.

Runar began to scan the page, desperately attempting to take in the words that his eyes passed over. But he simply could not internalize them; no, he only knew what they were saying because he'd read the book so many times before. All he could think about was that he was now destined for the same fate as the victims in the books he'd spent so long poring over.

At least his death wouldn't be a mystery to his mother.

Runar heard the swishing sound of the train car's door sliding open. He looked up and saw one of his district partners – how strange it was to refer to someone as your district partner – Lena, enter the car, carrying a bouquet of long-stemmed daisies. Absentmindedly, as if she didn't realize that someone else was there, Lena sat down on the couch across from him and began to fiddle with them. "Hi, Lena," Runar said, closing the book up and putting it down on his lap.

"Oh, did I interrupt you?" replied Lena.

"Nah, I wasn't really reading anyway," Runar answered. "It's hard to focus."

"Yeah."

"Where'd you get those flowers?"

"Oh, my boyfriend gave them to me before I left. He was going to give them to me after the reaping as a present for actually aging out, but…"

"Yeah." Lena fell silent for a moment. "What are you doing with them?" Runar asked.

"Well, I don't think they'll let me bring the whole bouquet as my token," Lena explained, "So I'm making it into a flower crown."

"That's smart," Runar said, memories flooding his mind of laying with his friends in one of Five's few meadows, picking daisies and braiding them into his friends' hair. But he'd never made a crown with them before. "How'd you learn to make a flower crown?"

"I've always liked to make crafts. My friends and I do - used to do crafts back home sometimes. We'd go into the meadows and pick flowers and make flower crowns."

"What other crafts did you do?"

"Oh, all kinds of things, mostly with our school stuff. We would cut paper up and attach it to other pieces of paper, sometimes we'd fold pieces of paper to make shapes, we would make complicated braids with blades of grass, we'd color and, if we could get our hands on it, paint. It was fun."

"It seems like it! How do you make a flower crown?"

"Well, first you pick out three of the flowers with the longest stems. Then you start to braid them together." Runar watched as Lena selected three flowers from the bouquet, then laid them next to each other and began to braid them together as she talked. Every few stitches, she would grab another flower and seamlessly add it into the braid, until all of the flowers had been incorporated into the crown. Once all of the flowers had been incorporated into the crown, she took the end of the braid and carefully tucked it in to make the braid of flowers into a circular crown. "And there! A flower crown." Lena looked up at Runar. Do you want to try it on?"

"Yes please," Runar replied, his eyes wide, eager, and curious as always.

Lena delicately set the crown on Runar's head. The boy turned around, trying to look at his reflection in the window behind him. After a moment, the sun dipped behind a cloud, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the ring of flowers, delicately perched on his sandy blonde curls. "Ooh, it looks pretty," Runar mused, then took the crown off and handed it back to Lena. "You did a good job!"

"Thank you. If we can find flowers in the Capitol, I can help you make one of your own."

"I think I'd like that."

Suddenly, Lena's face changed, the peaceful expression she'd been wearing replaced with one of concern. She leaped up and ran out of the room, the crown falling out of her hand as she ran. "Lena!" Runar called, but she was long gone.

Runar bent down and picked up the crown, taking a moment to analyze it. It was truly impressive how a simple stitch such as a braid had the ability to hold the structure of the crown in place, each stitch integral to the whole. Runar couldn't help but wonder who'd come up with the idea to create a crown out of flowers in this way. He couldn't help but wonder if his mother had worn one on her wedding day.

He couldn't help but wonder where that flower crown was now.

As Runar turned back to the worn-out pages of his mother's manuscript, again flipping through them without really reading them, he couldn't help but think of the similarities between himself and the book. Both were representative of a significant part of his mother's life, and yet both were unfinished mysteries in their own right; his mother had never ended the book, and he had never been able to find out where his father had gotten to. At this point, Runar doubted he ever would. But if anyone might know anything about his father's disappearance, they had to be somewhere in the Capitol. Perhaps the Games were the perfect opportunity to solve the mystery of who or where his father was.

Even if it didn't work, Runar would never forgive himself if he didn't try.

Ey, a shorter turnaround this time! I'm pretty proud of that! I guess even though I did get more done over the summer, I'm still a quicker writer at home. Who'd have guessed?

I hope you all enjoyed that chapter! Two of these kiddos, Toby and Lambell are mine, while the third, Runar, comes courtesy of the lovely mykindleisawesome! Laney, thank you for your child, and I hope this is a good lil birthday present for you!

I've been doing more work behind the scenes on setting up POVs for the characters, and I think I've hit a solution that I like! Every tribute will be getting one POV in the Pre-Games, so spanning from intros through the night before, except for two tributes who need 2 each for plot reasons. Then, I'm going to take the training chapters and make them a bit more omniscient, trying to hit on every POV character at least once. Then, when we reach the Arena, I'll see if I liked the training format, as I might switch over to that omniscient format there as well. I like using OTWT to experiment a bit, so this will definitely give me that chance.

Thank you all as always for sticking with me through this process. I'll see y'all next chapter! Oh, and remember LHFNP! It exists! Please sub.

xoxo, xxxi