I like Hannibal immensely – he laughs when I make a joke, pats my knee if I stop talking and start thinking too much – he reminds me a lot of Kita. While Ivy and Kazia began to bicker their way through this incessant journey and Talon retreated to his own room so as not to have to deal with us any longer, Hannibal remained by my side.

"Any tips?" I ask him as we watch Ivy disappear into the next carriage.

Hannibal quirks a dark brow. "Tips for what?"

"The Games."

He laughs and shakes his head. "That much I'd guessed – which part? There's more to it than what happens in the arena, Fern, keep that in mind."

"Could you just start from the beginning?" I plead, batting my short lashes his way. "I'm gonna need all the help I can get, if you couldn't tell that already."

"True," he agrees and I stick my tongue out at him. "Are you sure you want to talk about it? The subject isn't one we can evoke much laughter from, dear."

"I can be serious if I need to," I assure him. My fingers play with one of my dark curls to give them something better to do than tap on my legs. I wonder what they'll do to me when we reach the Capitol – over the years there have been some extreme makeovers that I would loathe to have. Our district are usually primped and dressed as cows or farmers, so I know not to expect much going into it all. I have to remind myself that I'm not going for the fashion.

Even if I don't yet have a solid answer for why I am going through with this – not that I could back out – it's important to stop myself expecting too much of the clothes they'll give me. At least Layla White won't cry on these.

Hannibal snaps his fingers in front of my eyes, rousing me from those thoughts. I like that he seems to know what I need and when I need it. He manages another laugh, forced or not, and says, "Serious and daydreams don't go hand in hand."

"I don't think serious would hold hands with anybody," I say. "Seems like exactly the kind of thing it'd avoid. It's hard to imagine a-"

His glare stops me short of babbling once again and I nod my thanks.

"Got it," I tell him. "I'll just shut up and you talk, okay? Okay."

Hannibal settles back and laces his hands together over his rounded stomach. His left hand is missing a pinkie finger – I hadn't noticed before, but now that I've seen it I'm finding it hard to look away. "Bloodbath," he explains. "I was lucky to get away with only that minor loss."

"I wouldn't call a body part minor."

"In comparison, it was," Hannibal says. "My district partner lost her right leg, and, soon after, her head. I got away lightly."

I swallow back bile that wants to rise in my throat and giggle to fill the uncomfortable silence. "Guess she needed more of a head start, eh?"

Hannibal sighs and shakes his head. "Serious," he reminds me, "that's nothing to joke about, Fern. You'll see soon enough."

"I'm starting to realise that."

"Good," Hannibal says. "Now can I talk?"

I bite down on my tongue until I taste blood, nodding for him to continue. It's hard to be quiet, I decide, but worth it if I can learn something of use from this strange man. Not that there's really any point – I don't fancy my chances as a real life victor just now. Even Talon strikes me as more likely to win, though, if I got the upper...

"You're daydreaming again." Hannibal frowns at me and it takes me a second to notice that Talon had rejoined us. His eyes were rimmed with red but there was a determined set to his jaw.

I shake my head. "Not daydreaming," I say. "Just thinking. Got a lot on my mind. But I'm listening now, promise." A giggle rises in my throat when I stifle the urge to offer my pinkie to seal our promise, but I don't think Hannibal would appreciate that joke. I didn't want to push him too far just yet.

"Good." His brows are raised like he expects me to interrupt him again, but when I stay silent he starts to talk, "The most important thing is that you forge an alliance. Ivy will disagree with me here, but I'm telling you, do not go it alone."

"Why not?" Talon asks. "Won't whoever we try to team up with just kill us anyway? We'll just be easy targets."

"Then show them what you can do," Hannibal says. "Come up with some skill they can't refuse, make them see that having you as a part of the team would be beneficial to them more than it would you. If you have to, then lie your way in."

"Lie?" I frown. "I don't think I could be a convincing liar."

"I can lie," Talon brags, his young face lighting up with the size of his smile. He looks so proud that both Hannibal and I refrain from voicing any doubt. Instead, our male mentor claps him on the shoulder.

"Good," Hannibal says. "You'll do good, kid, you tell them whatever you have to get what you need. When the bloodbath comes, it's important that you're on the right side. Weapons and allies will save your life."

"Or end it sooner," Ivy chips in from her place across the carriage. I didn't see her enter, but she was perched on the edge of a short bar making herself quite at home with a bottle of something pink and fruity looking. "You ally, you die."

"We're supposed to be mentoring them together, my dear," Hannibal says, rubbing his forehead with the palms of his hands.

"Then don't give them such ridiculous advice," Ivy retorts. She rolls her eyes and downs a mouthful of pink straight from the bottle before she looks at us. "Would you rather die honourably or have your throats slit in the night?"

The proud flush disappears from Talon's cheeks and I cough to cover our silences. "Is neither an option?" I ask her. "Last year there was the one with the trident – Odair, wasn't it? - that looked like a dishonourable, interesting way to go."

"If it's interest you've come for, you picked the wrong place, little girl." Ivy snorts and stares at Talon. "Well, boy. Which do you choose?"

"I'd rather not die at all," he mumbles and wipes at his sore cheeks.

"Then get your act together." Ivy caps her bottle and sets it down beside her. "The most important thing isn't making allies – it's getting sponsors. If you can convince the Capitol to love you, you're going to get sponsors. Get sponsors and you can get gifts without the trouble of the Cornucopia. You mentioned the Odair boy," she says, glancing back down at me. "Look what popularity got him. A trident."

I fold my arms over my chest and do my best to look self-important. "Well I don't know how to use a trident. I can't fish for my life."

The comment doesn't earn me the giggle I'd hoped for, not even from patient Hannibal, but rather three sets of eyes glare my way. "Then," Ivy says, "you'll have to hope we can send a milk pail and cowbell."

Hannibal pats me on the knee. "I think you'll do a fine job of winning them over," he tells me. Though it looks all wrong on his weathered face, not to mention awkward and unpractised, he winks. "Act natural."

"Act natural?" Ivy scoffs. "That's your advice? It's going to get them killed; they've no chance."

"Killed?" Talon squeaks, but he is ignored.

Hannibal sighs and rises from his seat. "Cut them some slack," he says as he walks over to Ivy. "They're trying." Just when she looks about to protest, he leans up and whispers something into her ear that brings a taut smile to her lips. Ivy nods and claps him on the back as he leaves us.

"We'll talk more about strategy when we get there," she says. "For now we wait, you may as well tell me something about yourselves. It'll help in the long run."

"Like what?" Talon asks.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry for his apparent innocence. In the end I just say, "What you're good at, I think she means." Ivy nods to let me know I'm right, then flicks her wrist in a gesture for me to answer her query. "I can dance," I tell her, even though it's both a total lie and completely irrelevant to the situation.

Ivy rolls her eyes, choosing to ignore me in favour of pointing at Talon. "And you, boy?"

"I don't think I'm good at much," Talon mumbles, brushing back long hair over his ears. "I just go to school and go home, that's it."

"Well aren't we lucky this year," Ivy mutters. I can hear the sarcasm in her voice and it makes me want to smile bright and fire some back at her. I only restrain myself because she adds, "Lucky at least we have a little time to figure this out."

"Didn't we agree that lucky wasn't the word of the day?" I wonder, crossing and uncrossing my legs as they grow restless. Sitting still for so long has never been a talent of mine – I'm itching to get outside in the fresh air and stretch.

"Today's word is Reaping," Talon says, his lower lip jutting out. "That sounds right."

"You do have a sense of humour." I grin so hard it feels like my cheeks are going to split open. "We might get along, after all."

"Get along?" Talon repeats, bitterness tainting the way he speaks. His nose wrinkles up and his damp eyes narrow to slits. "I don't want to get along with you. I don't want to get along with any of you, I want to go home!"

Ivy mutters something I don't quite catch and takes another swig from the mystery pink liquid. I have to bite back the urge to tell Talon that there are only two of us in here, that saying 'any of you' doesn't make as much sense as he'd want it to. Sudden sadness in my gut keeps me quiet as I rise from my seat and brush down my dress. Eyes glued to the toes of my dirty boots, I make it my mission to storm out as gracefully as is bovinely possible.

Think cow, I tell myself, ignoring Ivy's snickers when I moo for my own amusement. It's a good feeling, being laughed at, good enough that I start to feel a better about myself already. When the door slides shut behind me and I'm alone in the next carriage, I take a deep breath and calm my mooing.

Everything here is so shiny and new that I can't help but marvel at it all. The floor beneath my feet is covered in strange metal that reflects pink on the bottoms of each of the doors – I can't decide whether it's ghastly or enchanting. One of these doors leads to a kind of bedroom for me while we travel – Hannibal told me so himself – I only wish he'd given me instructions on how to find it.

The first one opens into the whitest bathroom I've ever seen. There's no tub like the one we have at home, but a strange white nozzle pokes out from the ceiling that I think must be a shower, and I don't take the time to look at the rest once a low voice sounds behind me.

"Looking for something?" When I turn to face her, Kazia is beaming at me and her spidery lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. She's changed out of her tree ensemble and now wears a slip of shiny green fabric that clings to her every curve and matches the remainder of her Reaping make-up.

I smile up at her and shake hair out of my face like a wet dog. "I was going to take a nap," I tell her. "All the excitement is getting the better of me."

That seems to be exactly what she wanted to her – Kazia's eyes light up with the force of her smile and she cups my chin in her long-nailed fingers. "Not to worry, darling, it happens to the best of us. Now, follow me!"

I march behind her as she leads me along the impossibly long carriage until we reach the very last door on the right side. These Capitol trains are a mystery to me – a mystery I'm glad to have experienced, too. "This one's mine?"

"For now," Kazia says with a nod. She reaches out and slides the door aside to reveal a tiny cupboard of a room – if I could even call it that – with nothing more than a thin bed pressed into the corner. "Enjoy."

"The budget didn't cover it, huh?" I laugh and step inside, underwhelmed by the plainness of it all. "If I win, remind me to donate a portion of my winnings to the redecoration of these things. It's a worthy cause." The joke falls flat, and I know it's my fault because a lump has risen in my throat and suddenly I find I'm crying.

Kazia strokes my hair and steps back, the door sliding shut behind her. As tears fall freely down my cheeks, all I can think is, what have I done?