Finally, some characters you will all recognise! I wanted to include the mentoring sessions but didn't want to get too bogged down in all the various conversations. Besides, how would you train a kid who has even less chance than the average District Twelve tribute who at least knows how to cope with being hungry? I hope you like Enobaria's viewpoint - I enjoyed writing her a lot more than I expected to!

Enobaria should never have agreed to this.

It had seemed like a great way to get revenge on the Capitol for all they'd done, messing up her teeth so eating anything except soup and smoothies meant she chewed her own cheeks to ribbons and had to sleep with mouth guards, sending her cousin in three years after she'd won and pretending it wasn't because she'd bitten that Capitolian they'd sold her to, the whole damned war that had killed all but three of the Two victors and left her as the only one who was capable of...well, living.

Then Snow and Coin had both gotten killed and the idea was shelved, right up until a few months back when the Capitol envoy had contacted her again, and Enobaria realised her thirst for revenge was just as strong as ever. She'd agreed to mentor immediately, but at the same time had felt a little thrill of excitement (that she didn't even admit to herself) that she would be back in the Games Hub one last time.

This wasn't mentoring, though. This was babysitting a succession of pathetic, scared Capitolite kids who wouldn't even last five minutes in the seven year olds' elementary wrestling class at the Two Academy. She was allocated nine of the kids at random, for three hours each, and in that time she was supposed to actually mentor them? Impossible.

The boy representing District Two had barely looked her in the eye before mumbling that he knew he was going to die and there was nothing she could do to stop that. At barely four feet tall Enobaria couldn't bring herself to disagree with his assessment. Nor did she know how to respond; only once in her experience had there been a tribute in Two for whom there had been no volunteer. Even then the reaped, untrained fourteen year old had had enough district pride to square his shoulders and make the best of things, taking guard duty in the alliance and lasting until the careers split.

Enobaria and the inappropriately-named Brutus sat in silence for several minutes before she ordered a dozen flavours of ice cream and told the kid to take his pick. At least he left looking slightly more cheerful than when he'd arrived.

The boy representing District Four was at least older, but had clearly never done a day's physical work or training in his life, and he was just as terrified. In his favour, he had spent the morning making friends with some of the other equally unskilled older teens and they appeared to be forming a classic losers' alliance, not that Enobaria was going to say as much to his face. At least he relaxed slightly after a few minutes and began asking questions, though he cringed every time she mentioned anything involving fighting and turned positively green at the mere mention of blood.

Enobaria instead let him discuss his favourite TV shows and privately wondered what sort of parents would saddle their kid with a name like Lavender Meadows.

The District Four girl was the most pathetic so far. Ten years old and unable to stop crying, she couldn't even say her name clearly through the tears (Violet something?) and wouldn't be coaxed more than a few feet into the room. Enobaria wondered what she'd seen during the war to make her like this - or perhaps some kids really were this weepy. She had no idea, and even less idea what to do for three hours.

In the end she found a kids' TV channel and switched the cartoons on while she sat in the corner with her book. After half an hour the little girl had crept closer and seated herself cross-legged on the thick rug, staring at the screen.

The second day looked set to be even worse. According to Enobaria's list, her first kid was the boy from District Five, the six year old.

She picked a fresh novel from the shelf and checked the TV listings.

At precisely 9:30am she heard footsteps outside the door of what had been laughably called her mentoring suite (but was really a decently-furnished hotel room). Enobaria forced her face into a neutral expression and prepared for tears as the small child was led in, holding the hand of the District Five escort.

There were two seconds of absolute silence, then the kid beamed.

"Hello Miss En'baria, I'm Victor and Mr Bright says you're gonna teach me how to win the games and I've got to do everything you tell me and I mustn't stare at your teeth..." he gasped and put both hands up to his mouth as his eyes widened. She could just hear the muffled "sorry" as the little boy glanced from her to his escort, waiting to be scolded.

Well, well.

After the previous day, Enobaria would take any silver lining she could find. She stood up and smiled, showing all the aforementioned teeth.

"And why do you think he told you that, young man?" she asked, taking a step towards him and bending down "Do you think I might..." she clicked her teeth together "eat you?"

The kid let out a delighted giggling shriek.

Well, well, well.

Enobaria nodded to the escort that he could leave.

"Now Victor, why don't you come over here and tell me what you can do" she said. Finally the former victor felt like she was on steady ground. She could pretend she was interviewing a new District Two kid for possible entry into the Academy, just run through the usual skills and questions.

Ten minutes later, they were heading out to the park and the adventure playground.

Two hours later and Enobaria realised she had actually enjoyed herself. Not only that, but this little boy - well, he would be no winner that was for sure, she wasn't about to imagine that a six year old had any chance at all, but given the rest of the field, he was likely to do about as well as the reaped District Two lad she'd thought about the previous day. Certainly he at least had elementary skills that nobody else would be expecting.

"Can we go get ice cream now, Miss En'baria?"

"Any flavour you want."

"Butterscotch and chocolate! With raspberry sauce! And sprinkles!"

"Absolutely. It sounds disgusting. Just don't throw up on the carpet."

Victor giggled again and ran on ahead. When they reached the door to the mentoring suite he stopped and turned back, his eyes huge and serious.

"Miss En'baria, do you think I'm going to win the games?"

He was the first Capitolite to ask her that question - she suspected because the others already knew the answer but didn't want it confirmed. Enobaria paused for just a second. She wanted to say that he would have got on well in District Two, that his combination of enthusiasm and willingness to work hard would have got him a good job there even if he didn't end up in the Academy, but something stopped her. Maybe she sensed that he wouldn't understand the compliment anyway. Instead she smiled.

"You've got the best chance of anyone I've seen so far."

"And then we had ice cream and she said I wasn't to tell anyone what we'd done cos I need to show people at my pri...private session and surprise them..."

Saoirse nibbled her lip thoughtfully. It sounded as though the scariest victor had turned out to be kind and caring, not at all as intimidating as the old man from District Three had appeared. He had decided the best way to deal with mentoring eight kids was to deliver the same lecture on the history of the Hunger Games to each of them and then allow them to ask questions afterwards. Saoirse had managed not to fidget too much but she'd been thoroughly bored after a two hour lecture, with almost all useful questions fallen out of her head.

The only sensible thing she'd managed to ask was whether he thought hiding was the best strategy for her and her alliance, and even then she hadn't liked the answer much. She knew that only one of them could win, but being told not to fall to pieces when her first ally died really wasn't what she'd wanted to hear.

Across the table, Viola was sniffling again. Saoirse didn't feel much like asking why and was beginning to be infinitely grateful for Aspen's seemingly boundless empathy as she cuddled the smaller girl and suggested they go and try the climbing wall after lunch. While she knew she probably should say something encouraging, Saoirse felt neither encouraged nor encouraging just then so she bent her head over her lamb stew and wild rice and pretended to be starving after a busy morning.

Her mood wasn't improved when both Jupiter and Aspen were taken away for their own mentoring sessions. She wanted to walk away and do something simple for the afternoon, like tying knots or painting leaves up her arms, but as soon as her older allies had vanished the two little ones slid around the table.

"What are we doing this afternoon?"

Saoirse wasn't feeling particularly benevolent just then. "What Aspen said. The climbing wall. Race you to the top."

Jupiter was surprised he didn't feel nervous as he walked along the ground floor corridor to Beetee Latier's mentoring suite. It actually felt less scary than the times he'd been brought to his mother's office before the war. There, he always knew he had to be sure not to look at any of the papers on her desk and only to speak when he was spoken to. At least here he felt he might be learning something.

He was glad he'd been assigned to Beetee as well. Enobaria was a fighter, and Jupiter clearly wasn't big enough to handle anything larger than a pocket knife. He knocked on the door, waited for a response, and entered.

"Ahh, Master Mondrian. I believe I met your mother once."

Jupiter blinked, not having expected this sort of greeting. The man was sitting in a hi-tech wheelchair, though the walking sticks propped in the corner suggested that Beetee was able to propel himself short distances when needed. Probably just enough so he could take a shower without assistance, Jupiter thought, and then wondered at his mind making that sort of connection in such a situation.

"Oh." and then "She's in District Seven now. She was allowed to write to me..."

The man nodded. "Why don't you take a seat?"

Jupiter sat down on the chair opposite. It was the kind of chair they had in schools, hard and uncomfortable and also built for someone bigger than he was. His feet didn't quite sit flat on the ground and he shifted uncomfortable. Beetee adjusted his glasses and offered a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Tell me about yourself"

"What do you want to know?"

"Your strengths. Weaknesses. What chance you have in the games."

"I'm eleven. I'm not strong. I don't know how to use weapons. I never did any martial arts. But I've got my allies, and we've got a plan."

"And that plan is..?"

"Hide until everyone else is dead."

Beetee laughed.

"It worked for you."

"After a fashion. It worked until there were only six others left, and then I used my sponsor gifts to charge the Cornucopia, laid out wires in the surrounding area and electrocuted them all. I can still smell the burning flesh. In my dreams, I can hear them screaming as I sat inside the Cornucopia within my homemade Faraday cage and watched them. Do you think you could do that?"

They faced each other for what felt like several minutes.

"No Sir, I don't think I could do that."

The silence continued. Jupiter knew he was no killer, but he didn't want to look like he had no chance at all. Then he remembered how he used to make his mother laugh by making literal comments and went over again in his mind what Beetee had said. It had clearly been designed to scare him - to test him, perhaps? He took a deep breath.

"I couldn't do that because I don't understand how electrical circuits work, you see."

Beetee threw his head back and laughed.

"I have nine tributes to mentor. I'm not allowed a favourite."

Jupiter shrugged one shoulder awkwardly. "It wouldn't be me anyway."

"Why not?"

"Like I said. I'm eleven. My only real advantage is my alliance, and we're not even the strongest in the arena..."

"True. The other two alliances are composed of older teenagers. One is formed of the tributes who do have knowledge of weapons. The boy representing District Eight, for example, is related to a former tribute trainer. The District Nine boy is the son of a retired peacekeeper. The odds are certainly more in their favour than yours."

"So why am I here?"

"You were reaped"

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, why are you even bothering to talk to me if you think I've got no chance?"

"It's my job. Electronics aside, it's all I know how to do. Talk to my tributes, be certain they know their chances are slim, and then point out that there are always ways of turning the odds in your favour"

"There are?"

"In almost forty years I brought home precisely two tributes. Wiress and Vision. Both came back broken. But two out of forty is still a five percent chance. It is, in fact, almost precisely the odds each tribute would have if they were exactly equal. Curious, don't you think?"

"I don't understand"

"Even the strongest tribute has a weakness. It's just a question of finding out what that weakness is. And this time...there are more weaknesses than you might think"

Jupiter nodded, still not really understanding.

"Shall we take a walk? That is, if you would care to walk and I shall...accompany you. This room is far too stuffy. Besides, there is a fine ice cream stall in the park..."

He hadn't expected to be given a magic key to winning, but he'd hoped for more, somehow. Three hours of intellectual conversation, much of it right at the limits of his understanding, had exhausted Jupiter. As he approached the elevator Aspen appeared from the other end of the corridor. She was yawning and seemed vaguely out of sorts.

"How was your mentoring session?"

Aspen shrugged. Jupiter decided to pick an easier question.

"What did you do?"

"We did some more archery, and then played in the park. Miss Enobaria isn't as nice as Mrs Oakley. She said I wasn't going to win..."

"She doesn't know that."

"She said I wasn't going to win because I don't want to fight. She said...everyone who wins has to fight in the end, and I said I didn't want to. And she said I wasn't going to win, then."

Jupiter wasn't sure how to answer that.

"I don't mind. Winning's just getting a medal at the end. It's nicer to play and have friends."

Jupiter felt his heart sink.

"Yeah. Friends are always good."

As they reentered their quarters, Jupiter just wanted to go to his room and be alone. He felt like crying, though he told himself he was too old for that. But there was already a delicious smell of food and despite the ice-cream, he realised he was hungry. Besides, a brown-haired woman he didn't recognise was laying out dishes on the table.

Aspen took one look and all tiredness left her immediately as she practically flew across the room, enveloping the woman in a huge hug.

"Mum!"

So Aspen's Mum got her wish and is allowed to see her daughter again before the games. Not exactly canon perhaps, but these aren't exactly ordinary games either. Any ideas what Victor did to surprise Enobaria?
Next time around will be the private sessions and scores, so stay tuned!