A/N: So congrats to the winner of the first drawing- Tizronell.

Disclaimer: Just teen who doesn't own the Hunger Games trilogy.

~Train Rides~

Toth Attaway's P.O.V.

I look at all the Capitol art; my head tilted in such a delicate way Wren couldn't duplicate and get the same precious form as me.

The green blurs and flashes of white and skies of freshwater blue.

"Looks different from home doesn't it."

I turn quickly to see twenty year old Daphne sitting on the corner edge of the polished table.

"It's all country right around here. You district six kids will be the only ones able to see it." She says in such a way you'd never expect to hear a mentor say.

"What are you going to teach us?" I blur out.

She points outside. "That tall grass prairie out there is the one teaching you."

I look at her strangely and lean back in one of the dining seats.

Daphne leans forward. "Toth. We're from district six. And what do we do? Hide. And we are pretty god damn good at it already. It's in our blood, no further conversation."

I bit my lip and shake my head in disagreement. Then get up and walk away from the dining compartment.

The numbers on the doors flash by faster than I thought they would- 235, 236, 237…

When I finally reach the marked door with the number two hundred thirty-five on a gold colored plaque, I know I'm here.

The room smells like cleaning supplies. Too smelling for even the stuff my mother uses.

I walk over to the silk covers on my bed and slide up the collar of my sweater expecting the tattoo in front of the mirror on the opposite side of the wall.

And I see the sun right out.

Its arrays shrivel at the tips whether it mixes with the orange or yellow flaring colors.

After a fair amount of time I've given myself to stare at my own piece of home, I slip the collar back down to how it used to be.

I see the mahogany dresser at the end of the bed, which lightens up my mood slightly.

Slowly lifting myself off the bed I make way towards the dresser decorated with vases containing elegant pink roses.

There's a clock hanging on the wall above my bed but it seems to not work gesturing towards the fact that the hands don't move.

Either way I'd have to wait to take a shower to be at dinner on time. And I don't plan on trying to ruin Jetta's scheduled plan.

I've always wondered if all chaperones were picked like this. For their prep and organized function.

All the years I've watched The Hunger Games I've noticed all the same personality in all the escorts.

I change into a shirt that won't make me sweat to death in this heat and switch into some decent shorts.

Without warning, the train suddenly swerves throwing me off balance and onto the floor.

My head hits the dresser with a loud thump and I feel like I've been whacked hard enough to be out for a week.

I bite my arm to suppress the sound the screams coming from my mouth. My nails dig into the flat between my knuckles almost enough to break skin.

I don't know how long I lie on that floor half screaming. But I know for sure that I fell asleep long enough to make Jetta explode.

"Do you think she's dead?"

"She's breathing isn't she?"

"I'm no doctor! Do you know how bad my reputation would be if she- moved! She moved!"

My left eye opens to see my escort and district partner standing over me. "Dinner?" I croak out.

"You missed it, but the cooks are keeping it warm for you in the dining room." The boy, Reed, says.

No one helps me up, which doesn't matter really. I'd never expect much for a richer pair.

Once I'm on my feet, I walk past the two towards the door shouldering both.

I feel so lightheaded. I hate it all. The clacking of the tracks. The white-suited men running past me without a word.

"Hopefully the weather will be like this when we get to the Capitol."

Daphne sits in a chair in front of the window, her plate of food on her lap.

Even with the train's speed, you can see the rain falling like stiff knitting needles. "The more rain, the fewer followers." She adds lifelessly.

I take a chair at the table so that my back faces her.

"Do you have family back at the district?" Daphne asks behind me.

"A brother." There's a long pause. "He brings the life into the house- Wren brings the color to any dull, dark place in District Six." As the chefs in white clothing come by the table and set my food on the table I mouth, "Thanks" in a polite manner.

My dad had told me about them. The avoxes. They don't speak a word. Only because of their missing tongue.

"I had a family." I start chewing on the asparagus on my plate. Surprisingly it's much sweeter than I would have expected. "Before I won the games at least."

I move onto the steak, because suddenly when she says those words, there's a bitter taste in my mouth.

"I'm going to bed. Get good rest tonight. Since you're going with an irregular strategy, I'm going to need to know what you're up to in the games by tomorrow." Daphne says walking past me and into the dark, skinny hallway.

The man in the white suit walks off, his hand hooked on the towel behind his back. I'm starting to wonder if I should have said something rather than just thanks.

I know if I had my tongue cut off I'd want someone to at least try to communicate with me.

I make an effort to eat dinner without thinking of how different the meal is from home, or just generally district six. The place I used to reside.

Occasionally I'll look at the reflection of the bump on my head on the window wondering if it's really me. Sometimes I'll examine the marks left on my knuckles noticing the some that have been punctured hard enough to start to form scabs.

For a twenty minutes tops, I'm left alone in the room.

Reed finally comes in and takes a chair next to me and my still filled plate. "Don't you think it's good? It's like nothing any of us have ever tried. Or at least I haven't. I don't know if you've ever had-"

I shake my head cutting his sentence off. I've never met someone who could talk so much. I don't know if my ears are bursting from his loud voice or if my bones are cracking while he mentions everyone back home.

"I hope we don't get dressed up as unrealistic scientists again. What do you think they'll patch onto us?" He asks, the tone in his voice lowering, indicating that he's realized how much I really don't want to talk. Maybe if I keep it up he'll leave.

I bite my bottom lip and look at the floor hoping he gets my point.

"You sound so quiet. We'd be good Allies you know. My smarts and your trust. Heck if I got my hands on a bow and arrow we might be in the top eight."

My head turns toward him. He doesn't sound like an archer type. "Where'd you learn?" I ask quizzically.

Reed shakes his head, taking his time thinking. "Around. I just gathered enough information to build it up to that archery state. Why?"

I avoid his question without further thought knowing that he never mentioned the word trust near talking about himself. "Just wondering. A friend of mine knows all the basics." This was actually true. I never entirely got the concept of something without telling Allif of my findings.

For an odd reason, I feel like the conversation should go on. I could write a thousand things about the bow and arrows I've worked with my whole life. But I can't just tell this guy all about my skills. Not when he'll be in the games with me.

"I wish I had a set of my own. Quiver and all." He adds in watching his thumbs drum against the table. "I have to use an old one of the family's."

"Do you have to use release aids?" I ask. My parents always told me to save up for one before I used the bow they gave me for my birthday. The district doesn't sell too many, but because of our placing in the middle of all the districts, sometimes there are leftovers from the careers for us kids in District six.

Allif offered me a finger tab one year but I declined because of how close I had grown to my bow. I knew how to avoid all the mistakes I had already made.

But from what I suspect Reed looks like the type of guy who can afford a decent amount of supplies every once in a while.

"No but my mom makes me wear the brace." He tells me looking at the clock as if he's waiting for something to happen.

The boy in front of me is everything I could have imagined myself. He has little experience with the weapons that will be placed in the Cornucopia, but he knows all about the scientific terms.

His age doesn't fit him; you can't even tell where he is on a number line. From the way he acts, he looks like he's twenty-five. But the way he speaks makes him look like Wren on a bad day.

"We better get ready to sleep." He says getting up and pushing in his chair. I follow Reed down the hallway until I reach my Chamber. The room is cold like winter breezes.

I won't be going to sleep anyways. I plop down into a chair for a while and look up at the ceiling which looks rough and slightly beige. But it looks more like a muddy brown when the lights are dimmed above me.

Sunlight isn't an option. I've slept longer than I thought after I hit my head. Dinner made my time longer. And there's no forgetting my odd conversation with Reed about bows. Somehow I wish that I could just blurt everything from Fletchings to aiming methods out.

I look at the clock again. Midnight. It seems so much lighter out than it would be at home though.

It feels like hours after I stop thinking about how Wren and everyone else are feeling about me in District Six. Half the people don't know who I am from my fading in the background bits and the other probably has the slightest bit of worry.

Thankfully Wren won't know what will be happening.

"Sissy. Why are they taking you the places with the shiny buildings?" Wren holds his hands high above his head while speaking.

I look into his brown eyes blinking with fear. He must have got the feature from my mom. The way he shows his feelings so openly. "I'm just going on a little game okay?" And he says: "Is it fun?"

The question is a puzzle but I manage an short answer. "If I win, it will be."

"Well of course winning is always fun!" He calls out spinning in a circle while jumping, small giggles echoing across the room.

All these years and Wren still doesn't get the games.

"Death" has never been a word in Wren's vocabulary. And somehow I'm glad for that. A kid like him doesn't need such a little thing to rain on his parade. So Wren should be happy when he sees me on the TV screen at home for quite some time. Until the games.

Another wisp of cold air rushes against my cherry red cheeks, this time wiping Wren out of my memory. Shivering, I get up and walk towards the dresser for the second time today.

The drawer is filled with folded shirts and dresses. Pants will probably be provided in the next drawer down. I grab a long sleeved shirt and slip that over my blouse quickly to get rid of the chills running down my spine.

The sleeves go up to my fingertip which somehow bothers me, but I learn to ignore it. I know how selfish it is to be thinking this, especially when it means being offered something even without saying.

I turn around and see a boy around my height walking up to the drawer I'm just about leaving. I'd never imagine an avox coming in this late.

While he sets down a couple things on my dresser and empties them neatly in the correct places inside, I wave my fingers slightly to him.

He catches it by a split second and looks at me. A small grin starting to form on his face.

I know the way his scars are still fresh and the way he acts toward me that he's new here. An avox knows better than to react unless they're given order.

Once he's gone, I crawl across the top of my bed and look out the window at the dark landscape all beside me. Some ruins are scattered across the grassy fields. When I see some cattle in the distance I know we're almost to the Capitol.

District Ten is somewhat the center district of them all, as in location. We learn about it a lot in History along with the career districts and the Capitol.

I decide to take a quick shower before leaving my room and trying every small detail I can find on the train while walking down the dining hall.

At this rate, I should be in bed around six in the morning.

XxXxXxXxXx

While I open my eyes I notice the salmon pink colored lighting in my room. To my left is the window I stared out at half the night. I can see the sun just about ready to leave for the day.

"Evening, night owl." Daphne says sitting at my feet on the bed. "When I told you to get some sleep I didn't mean in the morning." In her hand is a mini tube of paint. I can see where she's drawn designs all over her left arm. "You got twenty minutes to brush the knots out of hair. Go."

Daphne gets up, rolls down her left sleeve, and walks off without another word.

So after I've brushed my hair into its shining auburn self, I head out for the dining car. To my surprise, for the first time all four of us are here. Jetta sits in a chair looking at herself in a small makeup mirror. An almost replica to the one my mother used to use. Reed writes on a white sheet of paper which is nothing to my interest. And Daphne has set up her chair in front of the window making a universal thinking look.

"Well look who brought the room rat out of her cave." Says Jetta, a sickened expression on her face. The pink curls are put into curlers at the top of her head in such an unfashionably way you couldn't imagine. "I swear. All I could hear last night was you and the stuff you were clattering around."

I shrug and take a seat across from her next to Reed. I now notice he's writing to what looks like a good-bye letter.

"What time are we pulling into the station?" I ask breaking the silence. The three look up at me, a confused look on their faces. "I thought that's why Daphne woke me up." I say slumping down in my chair.

Daphne shakes her head at me first. "Reapings should be on pretty soon. We still have a couple hours until we pull into the station."

"That'll be around midnight." Reed says surprised.

"Fine by me." I say watching the men in white set down platters food I've never even heard of. I am the first to lift my fork and dig in. Reed, who has set his paper and pen aside, follows my actions and eats the perplexed dinner set neatly on his plate.

I hardly see Jetta look away from the little mirror in her palm and Daphne turns back to the window lighting the room up. Us two are the only people enjoying ourselves. For now.

XxXxXxXxX

At sundown Jetta shoos us off to a little room with a large television.

Reed intercepts the introduction of the speeches and asks why they've planned such a weird time to broadcast the reapings. All Jetta does is point to me and answers: "It's a replay."

District one looks complicated as usual. With the muscular boy who'll be hard to beat and the drop dead gorgeous girl who will be having sponsors lining up by the hundreds. District two looks troublesome, the girl in all white somewhat mysterious looking. District three is quite a pair this year. With the boy as powerfully built as the district one tribute and the girl as thin as a stick. District four is always the same- With their soaked hair and soft eyes. District five turns out quite disastrous, but I don't see anything to really fear in them.

Then it's our turn. The speech in which Alyson Rust is supposed to go over is cut out since district one has already covered it. Then it's Jetta who makes a fool out of herself then calls out my name.

There's a quick overview of the whole crowd, and for a moment I can see Wren on my dad's shoulder with an odd look on his face. Once the camera crew realizes my location, they switch to a close up.

Even I shutter when I give a grim look to the cameras.

I take a seat next to Daphne and the attention turns on Jetta again. "And for our male tribune... Reed Pokey!" She calls out, her voice seeming much more powerful than it never has been.

It literally looks like I'm giving a stare down towards Reed as he makes his way onto the stage.

The ending is the same. Jetta calls out a happy hunger games and we shake hands.

It seems that Daphne and I are the only ones to watch the last tributes appear on screen. I'm puzzled why Reed doesn't watch them. For a guy that smart, you'd think he'd take the time to solve a problem revolving around his own life.

But when the districts after seven flash by, I notice players seem to go weaker and weaker. From the outside at least.

At home our TV would have gone blank or played a replay of the reapings again, but here it's different. A capitol newscast comes on where they review the weather and make meaningless jokes about this year's hunger games.

Jetta, on occasion, looks up from her mirror to make remarks on what they are saying.

On the next two hours, I just rest my head on a pillow and watch as Reed goes through pages of good-byes. He tends to speak as he writes, which is somehow more amusing. I hear his family's past and experiences. This includes many reminders of Wren and my own personal memories.

Finally, I am the first to speak. "Would it be weird for me to be going to the weapon station first in Training?"

"No, why?" Daphne says sitting up.

I tweak my shoulders, which somehow turns into some type of deformed shrug. "You even said that most district six kids stick with the hide image in the games."

"Doesn't mean that we have to." Reed pokes in.

"If you're really that good, then I'd stick with another smaller station. Don't want to give away everything you can do." Daphne says adjusting herself on the smaller couch.

"That what you did to win? Trick the other players into thinking you're good at something you're not?" I ask yawning. I've never been tired this close to nightfall.

Daphne shakes her head. "It was one of those heat-filled arenas. I hid in the tall grass prairie the whole time. Then tripped people passing by and delivered the final blow."

Yesterday's conversation seeps through my mind. "We're from district six. And what do we do? Hide."

Well I know what I may be doing. Hiding.

A/N: Hopefully the rest of the chapters with OC's picked from drawings won't be as long. Toth was much harder because I had to fit two days in of her POV and because of the fact that she doesn't sleep at night, it was harder to fit conversation in.

As for Feedback- I could really use some. I feel like you've all left except for three of you. Has my story gone hollow?

-Fifi

P.S. Since I'm stuck home sick, my stories may be slower on updates and/or parts in the plot may be confusing.