Author: OMG! THANK YOU LITTLESPOTTEDCAT! You are the first one to review this story, so you get kudos. Let's see here… *looks at shelf of possible virtual rewards* You get a free squirrel, as you are my first follower to transition from TMM to THG. Please feed him acorns and don't let him bite you.

And I will be Captain Obvious for a moment here and tell everybody this: I don't own the Hunger games. Suzanne Collins does. If I owned the Hunger Games, Finnick would still be alive.

I do own Wolfgang and his family though!

I wait in the room they in which they put me. It's here that I will say my farewell to my family. As bad as this may sound, I hope that Hemi is too busy saying good-bye to Octane. I don't want her coming in here and declaring some undying love for me, especially when she's too young to know what love is. Heck, I'm too young to know what love is. And I'm two years older than she is.

The door opens and in walk; Ulrich, Lupine, Randolph and Abel. My dad isn't crying anymore, and this comforts me. He's always been so strong, even after losing our mother -his mate. He can't stop being strong now that I'm leaving. He leans against the wall and morphs, his entire body now covered in black fur, his canine eyes glaring at the door as if daring the peacekeepers to try to take me. That's the father I know, and I love him for it even if he isn't saying anything. He never was a man of many words, and I like him like that; laconic.

Uncle Abel surprises me when he morphs as well. His fur is light brown - like his human hair - as he stands next to my father. The two of them are like watching sentries, never taking their eyes off of the door.

I turn to Randolph. "It appears I was wrong," I teased, gripping the front of the white tank top. "Do you want your shirt back?"

Randolph shakes his head solemnly. "No," he answers, staring at the floor. I've never seen him so subdued. He needs to smile or make a joke or… something! But he doesn't.

Lupine steps close to me and whispers in my ear, "Quick, switch me outfits. I'm the smarter one and I will have the better chance at winning. We're identical so they won't notice."

I step back. "Ereed will notice. He can somehow tell us apart. And Hemi will notice too. And I can't pretend to be you, with all of your knowledge from classes that I've never taken. No. I have to go."

Lupine nods. "I understand." He steps in close again and hugs me. Lupine is actually hugging me! Today is a day of firsts. Lupine is being nice, and Randolph is thinking and not making jokes. Dad has cried. And me? I'm going to the Hunger Games.

Lupine and Randolph leave after that. My father morphs back and gives me a hug. "You can have a token in the arena," he tells me. "Here." He hands me a necklace made of steel. The pendant is the face of a wolf in the middle of a square. It has two tiny green emeralds for eyes. "It was your mother's," he tells me. "And before that, it was mine. Take it, and never forget who you are." As I take the necklace from his hands, my father wipes at his eyes, and I know he's struggling not to cry again. He straightens his back and leaves me alone with Uncle Abel, who has also morphed back into his human form.

"Hey," Abel says gruffly, "I need you to promise me something."

I look up at him in surprise. "What is it?"

"I need you to try your best out there. Don't you ever give up, do you hear me? You have a better chance than the others, and you know why. So you have to be strong out there. Show them what we can do. And most importantly, come home again…. Your father puts on a brave face for you boys, but he's not as strong as you think he is. You have to win this thing. Promise me that."

I just stare back at him. I'm no idiot. I can't promise him that. I won't promise him that. I will do my best, and I will utilize my gifts, but I won't promise him that I'll come back alive. Why not? The answer is simple. This is the Hunger Games.

As I get on the train, I look down at the pendant around my neck. I am a wolf-mutt. I can do this. And as I sit down in the seat, I smile. It's ironic. I've wanted Ereed to get reaped for the past two years. And then he finally does, and who goes to the Games? Me. Dumb Quarter Quell.

Around ten minutes later, Chortle finds me on that red booth, staring out the window. "There you are, Wolfgang! I have been looking all over for you. Come along. It's time for you to meet your mentor."

I follow Chortle through the train. We come to a dining room where delicacies of many kinds sit on an elaborate table. The smell reminds me that I've eaten only a banana this morning. But I wait for Chortle to sit before I take my place across from Octane. A woman sits next to Hemi's sister and introduces herself as Helena, and I wait for my mentor who I saw sitting up on the stage. And then he enters the room; six foot three and bulging with muscle, a wild fire in his brown eyes. A crop of brunette ringlets twist about as his hair.

"Are you my tribute?" he asks in a voice so deep and gruff that it almost sounds like he's growling.

"I suppose I am," I nod at him.

"You suppose?" This time he really is growling, I think. "You either are or you aren't."

I raise an eyebrow. "That depends on your reasoning. I am not your tribute as in I do not belong to you – am not your property - and therefore am not 'yours' in the purest manner of the word. But as I assume – or suppose – that you are using the term to mean 'the tribute that you will train'. Then I assume – or suppose – that I am yours in such a manner of abbreviated speaking."

He raises his eyebrows. "So we have a smart one, do we? Good. You might make it past the bloodbath. But you never can tell for sure until you start training them."

This guy doesn't seem like the brightest taillight on the car, if you know what I mean. He makes Randolph seem smart, and I'm kind of worried about my chances if this guy is going to mentor me.

"So, what's your name, tribute? Or should I just call you tribute?" he asks me as he sits down at the table and fills his plate with a mountain of food.

"Wolfgang," I tell him. "Wolfgang Canis."

"I'm Ford," he answers. "Ford Truck." He pauses for a moment while he stuffs his mouth full of some kind of white, mushy-looking stuff. When he swallows, he looks at me. "Well, are you going to eat or aren't you?"

I stare back at him, and he stares back at me, and so I just continue to stare back, and he makes a funny face. That's when I smile and take a hunk of something that smells an awful lot like meat from one of the dishes. I eat some of it, and then try some of that white stuff that Ford was eating. He tells me that it's called "rice pudding". It's pretty good, but nothing beats meat. There are some mashed potatoes that I also eat. I follow that with roasted carrots. And then Ford and I begin to talk about the other competition in the Games this year. I tell him that I think Coal Black may be a threat, and he laughs and says that no one from District 12 ever wins. I'm about to retort that – according to history – there was once a Hunger Games where both tributes from District 12 won.

It's then that Octane stands up from the table and stares daggers at me. "I have no idea why my sister likes you."

I stare at her for a moment, wondering at the cause of her sudden outburst. Then I shrug. "I have no idea why she likes me either. And quite frankly, I don't want her to like me. Not only does it kind of creep me out, but look what her little childish affections did to me! I'm in the freaking Hunger Games because she likes me and her boyfriend hates me because of that. So you don't have to worry about your little sister, okay?" I suddenly realize how loud my voice has grown during the conversation, and that I am somehow standing on my feet. Today… today is no good.

I; get barely any sleep, have to sit through boring speeches, become a tribute in the Hunger Games, watch my the strongest man I have ever known cry – twice, board a train that's going to take me away from everything I have ever known, and find out that my mentor is stupider than District Six's dumbest smart car. And now, to top it all off, I am getting lectured by my stalker's older sister! Yes, lectured.

"Look, wolf-mutt, you'd be lucky to land a girl like Hemi and you know it," she chides. Chides! "As a matter of fact, you'd be lucky to land any girl at all. And how dare you call her affections childish if you have never had any experience in love yourself? You have no idea how many times she - "

Ford interrupts. "Wait, you're a wolf-mutt?" he looks me up and down.

"Yes," Chortle explains to him. "Didn't you see them all howl when he got reaped?"

"Well, yes, but I didn't know that it meant that," Ford responds.

And that's it. I'm done. I am finished with it all, because I have just discovered that my mentor is dumber than a Capitol person! I slap my hand to my forehead and leave the dining car. As I leave, I hear Ford shout, "Hey! If you're a wolf-mutt, the other tributes don't stand a chance!" I slam the door shut and jokingly consider if I should try jumping off the train.

We are in the Capitol by dinner time. Octane looks all around and takes in the sight of everything. I look only at my feet, taking in the sounds and smells. It's too crowded here. The Capitol smells like thousands of sweaty bodies living close together under the hot summer sun. It sounds like the chatter of thousands of playing children. I don't have to look around to automatically know that I don't like it here. I hold my breath to rid myself of the stench.

We arrive at the building where we will be living. Dinner is waiting in our suite; and it is a suite. It doesn't stink like outside on the streets. And I can't hear a single noise seeping in through the walls or windows. And I hate this more. I can't hear anything, and perfumes drift around and affect my sense of smell as well. Wolf-mutts need to be able to feel like there is a world beyond them; a place to run if needed. I don't feel this at all here, and I get a sick feeling in my stomach. I refrain from dinner.

After the others finish eating, we watch the recaps of the Reapings we missed. Recaps mean that there are no boring speeches to sit through – thank goodness – and all we do is watch the Reapings.

District Seven is the first one we missed, as we were travelling to the city center at that time. There is nothing that stands out to much here. The tributes are a guy named Parchment Alexander and a girl named Timber Woode.

The next District is Five. The boy tribute is fourteen, and his name is Atom Quark. The girl is sixteen, like Octane, and her name is Sparks Wire.

District Four is next, and I pay more attention. This is one of the Career districts. The tributes from this district win often, just like the ones from Districts One and Two. I stare at the screen as the two tributes are reaped, and then they are asked to choose someone from their district to represent them.

From the way it appears, the girl from District 4 picks her best friend. The two squeal happily together, and the new tribute smiles and says, "Thank you!" The former tribute leaves, and the new one takes her place. Her name is Loyla Wolffe. She has blonde hair and blue eyes and she looks – let's just say I had to bite my tongue to keep from panting again. She's fifteen, like me.

The male tribute picks his older brother, who seems to be apathetic about being in the Quarter Quell. This guy is sixteen, muscular, and surveys the crowd like it's his kingdom. He has dark auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and a tan. His name is Neptune Scrod.

And that's when the howls start. The howls keen and bellow. That's when Loyla throws back her head and howls with them. And Neptune joins as well. But these aren't howls of pain and mourning like they were for me. No. These are howls of victory.

Next is District Three. Both tributes are too young, at age twelve. And they both have disabilities. It seems like District Three just wants to get rid of poor Marcus Sprocket and Jenny Gizmo. He's lame in his left leg, and she seems to have some sort of congenital mental health problem. I shake my head in sympathy and fight the urge to growl.

District Two comes around now, and I watch carefully again. The female tribute is seventeen, and her name is Dream Arne. She has brown hair and dark, murderous eyes. I'll have to watch her in the arena for sure.

The male tribute for District Two is D.C. Knight. He's thirteen. He seems confident, and his eyes sparkle beneath his golden hair. Confidence can be a bad thing if manipulated properly. Ereed Tys is proof of that.

We finally reach the Reapings for District One. The name of the male tribute is Sapphire Jewel. He smiles and waves at the crowd. He's seventeen and – if the fluidity with which he waves his arm is any indication – rather agile. His dark blue eyes are cold beneath the black bangs of his hair. He's dangerous.

The female tribute is named Mascara Cash. Her dirty-blonde hair comes just past her shoulders, and she has hazel eyes that twinkle with mischief. Or quite possibly evil. She has tan skin. She's extremely thin though. She doesn't look like she'd be physically strong enough to kill a person.

The Reapings are over and the television is turned off, but I don't move from the couch. There are two other wolf-mutts in the Hunger Games this year. And what's worse? They're from a Career district.

After that, I go through the door that leads to my private room and collapse onto the bed. I know that I must have fallen asleep, but I don't remember when.