The segments are kind of short, but they should get longer as we get further into the Games…

XXX

Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4

Somehow, I end up on the train. Somehow, I find my bedroom. We're moving, but I can hardly feel it. All I am aware of is the bed that I curl up on, but I couldn't say how soft it is of what color the covers are. I've lost all feeling.

Someone knocks on the door. They say something, but I can't care enough to listen. Maybe they're calling me to lunch, but how can I eat? I don't know if I even have a stomach anymore. If I do, then I must have lost all of my nerve endings because I can't sense its presence.

Another knock. Go away. Please, just leave me alone.

I want to go home. I want everything to go back to normal. I don't want to be a tribute. I don't want to go to the Capitol. I don't want to die…

XXX

Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1

As soon as we step on the train, Flint Kagel and Zora Lothra, this year's mentors, have me and Phenom stand against the wall. They begin to look us over, pacing back and forth and staring at us from every angle, like a pair of vultures. Zora is twenty, and won the Hunger Games just three years ago. As her bright-green eyes scan my torso, I fantasize as to what the best way to kill her would be. Not in hand-to-hand combat—near the end of her Games, she'd slit through three Careers' jugulars with a sword and finished off the last one with a rope noose around his neck. No, the best approach would be a knife in the back from a few yards away, preferably from a higher vantage point, but from lower if necessary…

"I know that look," Flint says suddenly, his voice cutting into my thoughts. "Oh, yes, I've seen it many times in you tributes, particularly with Zora here. You've got the bloodlust, girl. You've got the will to kill. Do you think that you have what it takes to handle the arena?"

I answer by whipping out my knife and slashing it through the air, stopping it inches from his nose. He never even flinched.

"Good, good," Zora said. "Come on, let's go get some breakfast."

The mentors walk over to the next car of the train before us, and I turn to see Phenom glaring at me, obviously not liking the fact that I had grabbed their attention first. I conceal my knife once again and give him a toothy, menacing grin.

"Looks like you picked the wrong year to volunteer," I say.

He snarls and tries to shove pass me, but I place a firm arm in his way.

"This is my year," I hiss. "These Games are mine. Remember that."

He is only able to enter the dining car when I allow him to.

XXX

Briar Tussen, 12, District 11

I enter the dining car and see the table covered by food, and I swear that my mouth probably drops open. There's just so much food, all in one place! There's tomato soup, and salad, and chicken with gravy—oh, the gravy!—and fruits, cheeses…and then there's a cake. A chocolate cake! I gobble up as much as I can hold, barely able to restrain myself to using my utensils. Despite my District's industry being agriculture, we aren't allowed to eat any of the food that we harvest. As a result, we barely get enough to keep us alive, even with my tesserae.

Between bites, I notice that Anise isn't eating much of anything. She slowly chews on a salad, and takes a few bites of a chicken leg, but doesn't look like she actually tastes it.

"Come on, Anise," I say. "Have some cake!" I'm sure that my mouth is covered in chocolate. I put a piece on her plate, and she stares at it blankly for a moment before looking up at me. The complete lack of emotion in her eyes is slightly disturbing, but I grin at her and place a forkful of cake in my mouth.

The cake stays, uneaten, on her plate.

"…you know what?" I say, coming to a decision. "I'm going to make you smile before the Games are over. Bet you that I can!"

It's impossible to tell if she heard me, because she doesn't respond.

XXX

Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2

I frown and lean in towards the television screen, thinking. Allies will be critical to my success in the Games, and so I watch the recap of the Reapings with a careful eye. Both tributes from District One seem pretty tough, and then there's the boy from District Four, but otherwise there isn't much to look at.

"…let's have a big round of applause for our tributes from District Nine!"

"Look at that girl," Thera snorts. "She can barely stand. I wouldn't bet two cents on her surviving past the bloodbath."

Marcus Kent, our mentor, nods slowly. "Keep her in the back of your mind," he cautioned. "The weakest ones always make an attempt at trickery before they kick the bucket."

Thera shrugs, tossing her long, black hair indifferently, and I'm tempted to agree with her. The girl looks absolutely terrified. Now, her District partner, on the other hand, looks capable…

The final three Reapings flash past, but they only produce more uninteresting wimps. The commentators make a few, final quips, the Capitol logo is displayed, and the screen goes dark.

"Looks like it's going to be a small pack this year," Marcus said. "That just means that you'll have to take down fewer strong people in the end, but they'll be the toughest out there. Keep up your guard, and don't trust anyone, not even each other. Especially not each other." He glares at us warningly. "Is that understood?"

We nod, but inside I'm wondering how you can make an alliance without trusting someone. Well, there must be some way to do it, because people win the Hunger Games, right?

XXX

Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9

"Bergamot!"

I limp down the hallway, towards where he has stopped in response to my call. It's frustrating to not just be able to walk over to him, but I've readied the Plan for so long, I'm not about to just drop it. It's all that I have.

I stop in front of him and his lanky body towers over me. I look up at his face, my eyes passing over his green tunic as I do so. I like that tunic. It's embroidered with the images of many different animals from the woods that surround our home, deer and mockingjays and the like.

"Can we talk?" I ask. He nods.

"Your limp," he correctly guesses the intended topic of our conversation.

"Yeah," I reply.

"I've seen you at school," he says. "I saw you just yesterday, in fact. You can walk."

"Right," I say, standing up straight for just a moment before shifting my weight back to its awkwardly balanced position.

"It's very convincing," Bergamot compliments me.

"I need to know that I can trust you, Bergamot," I say. "At least until we get to the arena. Honestly, this act is all that I have to keep me alive in there. I need to know if you're just going to run off and tell the nearest Career that it's just a façade."

"Someone else might do it for me," he says. "Someone like that boy from District Three."

"I know," I say through gritted teeth, thinking of the seventeen-year-old who I had watched with mounting horror as he had climbed the steps up to the stage. His limp was no act—I was almost sure of it. So would he be able to tell that I was faking?

"Just give me your word, Bergamot—"

"My friends call me Iceburg," he cut me off.

"I know that, Bergamot. My friends call me Kay. But that's beside the point."

I knew that what he had been trying to do by telling me his nickname had been of friendly intent, but I didn't want a friend, not now, so I had brushed his comment aside. I could tell that it hurt him, but I couldn't care about what he felt, not under the parameters of the Plan.

"I won't tell," Bergamot says. "I'll keep your secret, I promise."

He turns to go into his bedroom, and I notice that there is a leather bracelet around his wrist. Odd, for a boy to wear jewelry…

Two letters, boisterous B and timid T

Together intertwined upon his wrist

Right by his side, where very few can see

A simple circle, with romantic twist

XXX

Landon Meddel, 16, District 8

The sudden, complete darkness outside the train is jarring. Gabrielle's hand reaches for mine automatically, as it has done so many times during the ride.

"It's just the tunnels," our mentor, Alastair Denzine, says as I squeeze Gabby's hand reassuringly, nonchalantly spreading butter onto another roll. "We'll be in the Capitol soon.

"Let's go get a better view," I say to Gabrielle. She nods and we stand. I'm worried about her. She hasn't spoken much since the Reaping, and she cries at every little thing.

I wrap my arms around her shoulders and we stand in front of the window, waiting for the darkness to pass.

"Do you think that it's as incredible as it looks on the television?" I ask conversationally. Gabby only shrugs in response.

Just then, light floods the dining car, and as I blink away spots I hear Gabrielle gasp.

"Oh!" she cries. My eyesight clears, and I can see the Capitol now.

It's even more breathtaking than the televisions brag! There are buildings that climb up into the sky, sparkling towers of light and rainbows. Color is everywhere, so much so that it is almost blinding to look at. To wake up and see this dazzling city outside of your window every single day! I envy the citizens of the Capitol.

Speaking of the citizens, we can see people outside, watching the train and waving excitedly. They are nearly as multicolored as their home is. We wave back at the people cheerfully, and as I do so, I wonder if any of them sponsor tributes. If so, will they sympathize with two lovers who have been so cruelly tricked by fate?

XXX

Kayla's got some nice iambic pentameter going on there… What do you think? Hey, jedininjamellomaster and Hahukum Konn, how do Thera and Bergamot look so far? Any comments, from anyone at all?