Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.

Note: After debating how to handle train rides, I decided on three chapters, with four districts per chapter. That way, we can get through them a little quicker than the reapings, but still give our district pairs a chance to interact a little with each other and their mentors before throwing them all together.

I wrote each district's section from one tribute's point of view. This doesn't mean that I liked that tribute better than the other – just that I thought their point of view would make more sense in this particular situation. I'll try my best to distribute points of view during training, interviews, and such evenly between tributes – with an occasional mentor, Gamemaker or President thrown in, as well.

Thank you to those of you who sent me suggestions for alliances. This is very helpful. Right now, I have a tentative "pack" of six, although they aren't your typical Career pack. I also have several smaller alliances forming. However, almost nothing is set in stone yet, so please feel free to PM me ideas if you have them.

Speaking of planning ahead, I have a tentative bloodbath list and a tentative final eight-or-so list. Both of these were partially influenced by the patterns I'm seeing in the "favorite tribute" poll, which, by the way, is still open on my profile. If you haven't voted already, I encourage you to do so. Your opinion matters! I still have the final say, of course – one of the perks of being the writer – but these are your tributes, and I write this for your entertainment as much as my own, so I do appreciate your input.

Train Ride: Districts 1-4
This Long March from Home

Angus Spencer, 13
District One Male

Angus sat on the couch, silent, his arms folded across his chest. Jade had barely said two words to him since they'd gotten on the train. He and Abstract were chatting at the table, swapping ideas about strategy, completely ignoring his presence. Just because she was a volunteer. What was so great about being a volunteer? As soon as they were in the arena, no one would care who had wanted to be there and who hadn't. Then they would see. Then he would show them.

"I'm just saying it never hurts to have a little extra help," Jade was saying. It seemed he and Abstract disagreed on the subject of allies.

Abstract scoffed. "That's what you're there for. That's what sponsors are there for."

"Sponsors can't help you team up against a stronger tribute," Jade pointed out.

"And sponsors can't stab you in the back," Abstract countered. "If I recall, your own ally didn't do you much good. Tried to slit your throat while you slept."

Jade's hand went to a faint scar on his neck. "Okay, so you'd know enough to break off the alliance when there are only a few tributes left. Learn from my mistakes, yes, but that doesn't mean you have to make new ones. It's good to have someone to watch your back."

"Sure, watch the blood pouring after they take their knife out of it."

Jade sighed in exasperation. "At least watch the tape again. See if you think anyone has the potential."

"None of them have had my training!" Abstract insisted. "They have a few days to prepare. I've had years! Any of them would just slow me down."

"What about the other volunteers? Maybe some of them—"

Abstract glared. "Did you even watch the tape? 'She's my friend.' 'No one should have to face their family in the arena.' And don't even get me started on that Capitol girl in Six. Now, the District Four boy—"

"Don't even think about it," Jade interrupted. "I did some checking. His last name – Servitt. There was a Heaven Servitt in the Games four year ago. His sister—"

"So we have some common ground," Abstract shrugged.

"—was killed by the District One girl," Jade finished. "If he's still holding a grudge…"

"Point taken," Abstract nodded. "I'll watch out for him. Who was the last volunteer?"

"The girl from Five," Angus offered, startling both of them. "She has no idea what she's getting into."

Abstract cocked an eyebrow. "And you do?" She rose, turning on Jade. "Next thing I know, you'll be wanting me to ally with him." She gestured towards Angus, then turned and stormed into the next car.

A hint of a smile played on Jade's face. "So you were paying attention. Good. Come have a seat, Angus. Your turn."

"My turn?" Angus asked, surprised, taking a seat across from Jade at the table. He wasn't used to taking turns.

Jade nodded. "She's got her mind made up. I can still get her sponsors, of course, but she's convinced she knows as much as I do about strategy in the arena." He shrugged. "To be fair, she might be right. I'm not any older, and she's been training and studying the tapes of the old Games. There's only so much advice I can give her that she wouldn't be able to figure out on her own."

Angus nodded. She definitely had an advantage there. But she'd already made a bad move; she'd upset her mentor. This was his chance to get on Jade's good side. He put on his best innocent look. "I suppose … I could use a little advice."

"It certainly wouldn't hurt," Jade agreed. "Though you're definitely going to need a different angle. You probably won't get a lot of sponsors right away. People will underestimate you. That's good."

Good? But didn't sponsors help you win? His question must have shown on his face, because Jade continued. "I said 'right away.' Hold back a little during training. Let people think you're just another little kid who got reaped. They don't know you've had training. They'll just write you off. Then, once you get in the arena … surprise them."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. The audience loves surprises. Twists. Everyone can tell Abstract is a threat. You'll be the one they'll never see coming."

Angus nodded a little. He didn't like the idea of not being noticed. He wanted people to know how good he was. But part of him also knew Jade was right. "I can do that."

"Of course you can. And one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"As far as Abstract is concerned, you're just an annoying little kid who got reaped, and I'll treat you as such when she's around. She'll ignore you, but that's good. You don't want her to think you're a threat. She won't think twice about killing you."

Angus nodded. "That's one thing we have in common."

Kiona Brink, 18
District Two Female

It was all she could do not to yell his name when she saw him on the screen.

Kiona sat as still as she could, hoping neither Vester nor Equinox was watching her. Not likely. Equinox was in front of her, eyes glued to the screen, his expression passive, blank. Vester was off to the side, more intrigued by the tape than what was going on in the train car around him. "I don't think District Eight's ever had a volunteer before," he noted, almost mumbling.

District Eight. What was he doing in District Eight? If he was alive, then maybe…

No. No, that was too much to hope for. But Zione. She could feel herself shaking despite her efforts to appear calm. He was alive.

Alive.

And on his way to the Hunger Games.

"No one should have to face their family in the arena." He'd always been the better liar. She relied on staying quiet, keeping her head down. Which was what she had to do now. Stay calm. Pretend. Just another reaping.

But once they were together, how could they pretend? How could they convince the audience they had just met?

The little girl – Nicoline, Kiona thought – hugged Zione just before the camera zoomed away. A silent thank you for saving her own brother. For being a hero.

A hero. That was it.

"Wow," Kiona said out loud, forcing a smile. "That's gotta be the bravest thing I've ever seen."

Her two companions turned, surprised. "Brave?" Equinox scoffed. "More like stupid. I bet they both die in the bloodbath."

No, he won't, Kiona thought. But what she said was, "Well, even if he does, he just saved that little girl's brother. Show a little respect."

Equinox shrugged and went back to watching District Nine's reaping. But Vester was still watching her, curious. Kiona wondered if she should have just kept her mouth shut. Maybe she should have left the lying to Zione. Maybe she should have waited.

Finally, Vester turned back to the screen with a sigh of pity as the District Ten girl fainted. "Maybe she'll faint in the arena and won't feel it when they kill her," he offered.

That caught her by surprise – and was a safer subject than the one she longed to discuss. But not with him. Not with someone who had become known in the arena for killing rebels slowly, painfully. "I would have thought you'd wait for her to wake up first," she observed.

A strange look crossed Vester's face. "Eight years ago, that might have been true. Now … well, all I can really do is wish her a quick death."

Kiona's stomach churned. Was that what he was wishing for them, too? A quick, painless death?

"What difference does it make?" Equinox asked with a shrug. "Dead is dead. Twenty-three of us will be dead by the end. Does it really matter how we died?"

Vester thought that one over for a moment. "Not to the dead person, I suppose – not for more than a minute or two. But for those left behind … it matters. And for the one who did the killing. For a year or two, there were kills I was … truly proud of in the arena. The ones that made me famous. Two rebel soldiers. Rumor has it, they were scheduled to be executed, but the Capitol arranged for them to be sent into the Games, instead. I made it my … mission … to show that there was a difference between a regular execution and what I intended for them. I made it slow. Bloody. Painful. By the time I was done with them, no one would have recognized their faces – or any other part of them. The audience loved it…" He trailed off into silence.

Kiona shuddered. She remembered. She had been ten. Old enough to know that his victims had been rebels. Old enough to realize that there were people who wouldn't hesitate to do the same to her, if she was caught.

She had killed, during the rebellion. But it had always been quick. It had to be. She didn't want any screams. Didn't want to attract any attention. She had been a silent killer. But Vester … his victims had screamed for mercy. And, when that failed, they had screamed for death. Kiona had done what she had to for her family, for their cause. Vester had done what he wanted to.

Or had he? Had he wanted to? Or had he simply known that sponsors would love it? That it was the best way to get home?

"Oh, I enjoyed it – at the time," Vester said quietly, as if reading her expression. "I was terribly proud. I fought on the Capitol's side, you know, during the war. To me, they were just more rebel scum. Just one more battle to fight."

Rebel scum. If he only knew.

"But now?" she asked.

Vester shook his head. "Now … I can't exactly say that I regret killing them. Because I had to do that to stay alive. But sometimes … I do wish I'd done it quicker. Doesn't matter to them, of course – not anymore. But now that's what I hope for every time I see a tribute die in the Games. A quick death. A painless one. That's what I want for that girl in Ten … and for your hero in Eight, Kiona."

Kiona looked away. That wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want him to have a quick death. She wanted him to have a long life. With her. But that couldn't happen now. Not for both of them.

She clenched her fists tightly. Stupid. Why did he have to volunteer? They could both have lived – him in Eight and her in Two. Maybe. If she had won. At least then there would have been a chance. Now she wasn't even sure she'd want to win. Not if it meant he had to die.

But she couldn't say that. Not to them. "Me, too," she said quietly, hoping her lie was convincing enough. "I hope so, too."

Tracer Norren, 18
District Three Male

The others had already gone to bed.

Tracer knew he should get some sleep, but his mind was too busy. Planning. Debating possibilities. Strategies. Trying to come up with something new.

And it had to be something new. Because nothing that the tributes from District Three had done in the past had even come close to working. Pacing, he went over it in his head. Most of the tributes had been loners. Shy. Awkward. They hadn't even wanted each other as allies. Maybe if he could find someone…

"Can't sleep?"

The voice startled him, and he whirled around to face his district partner. She took a step back. "I'm sorry if I scared you. We're both a bit jumpy, I guess."

Tracer nodded. "You were pretty quiet. I didn't hear you come in." Quiet. That was useful. "You couldn't sleep, either?"

Lina shook her head. "It was too quiet."

"Too quiet?" The train was making plenty of noise.

Lina smiled a little. "I guess I'm just used to more people. I have three brothers, so…"

Tracer nodded. "Yeah. Know the feeling. I've got a brother, too."

"I guess I should enjoy it while it lasts. There'll be plenty of noise in the arena."

Tracer laughed a little. "Well, hopefully we live long enough to hear it."

Lina nodded, then looked around. "I don't think Mayberry's going to be much help."

As much as he hated to admit it, Tracer knew she was probably right. So far, the extent of Mayberry's help had been giving them directions to the dining car and telling them which cars were theirs to sleep in. "So we'll just have to help ourselves," he agreed. He took a seat on the couch.

Lina looked him over skeptically. "You want to help each other?"

Tracer shrugged. "I didn't mean that we have to stick together in the arena or anything. But we could use a plan, some advice – anything. And if our mentor isn't going to do her job, we need all the help we can get."

She couldn't exactly argue with that. She took a seat in a nearby chair, tucking her knees to her chest. "What did you have in mind?"

Tracer shrugged. "I'm not sure, exactly." He was sure, but he didn't want her to know exactly how much he'd already thought out. "Maybe we could figure out what to do during training, what we need to learn. I don't know about you, but I don't know the first thing about weapons."

Lina nodded. "Me, neither. Unless you count using knives for cooking."

"I guess that could count. More than I've done. But my point was, are we really going to be able to learn enough about a sword or a bow or a knife in a few days to hold our own against someone with real experience?"

"I guess not."

"So maybe there's something else that would be more useful. Last year's arena was a forest – with a lot of rivers."

"So you think we could learn how to swim in a few days?" Lina asked wryly.

"No, but we could probably learn a thing or two about which sort of plants are safe," Tracer shrugged. "Or maybe how to start a fire. Or how to make traps for small animals. Point is, there's a lot to learn. So maybe we could split it up, then come back and show each other what we've learned at the end of the day."

Lina cocked an eyebrow. "That's awfully trusting of you."

"It's awfully practical of me. And, to be perfectly honest, you don't seem like the type who's going to stab me in the back."

"Neither do you," Lina admitted. "But at least one of us is going to die eventually."

"Eventually," Tracer agreed. "But not in the next couple days. Maybe we should just take it a day at a time, see how it goes. Any time you want to call it off and do your own thing, that's fine. But I think it would be in both our interests to help each other as long as we can."

"As long as we can," Lina agreed.

There was still doubt on her face, but that was all right. He had his doubts, too. But even if they ended up parting ways early on, he had still made a small gesture of friendship. And it would be harder, he reasoned, to consider killing someone who had at least been friendly to you. Someone you had talked to and laughed a little with.

Of course, it worked both ways. He couldn't picture himself killing her. He had a hard time imagining himself killing anyone, but he knew, in the back of his mind, that he would have to in order to get home.

He just had to hope someone else would kill her first.

Ella Halliwell, 17
District Four Female

"Hooked him right in the jaw," Mags grinned. "Then I dragged him to shore, took my knife, and split him open right on the spot. My first kill in the arena!"

Ella giggled a little. "I don't think fish count, Mags."

Her mentor shrugged. "It did to me. That little fish was the difference between life and death. Don't ignore that. You can be the best tribute in the arena with a sword or a bow, but that won't make a lick of difference if you can't find food – unless you're planning on slaughtering all the other tributes before you have a chance to get hungry."

"I'm not planning on slaughtering anyone," Ella admitted.

Mags nodded. "Trust me, that's what I said at first. Stay out of the way. Avoid everyone else. Survive. And it worked pretty well for a while. But they don't let it stay that way forever. When there are only four or five of you left, they don't let you stay out of each others' way. They force you together. And that's when you find out what you're really capable of."

"And do you think I am?"

"No," came Mars' voice from across the room, the first word he'd said since they'd gotten on the train, despite Mags' attempts to draw him into the conversation. "You were crying during the reaping, for goodness' sake. You don't stand a chance."

Mags glared at the older boy. "That's what everyone said about me, too. Just little old Mags, the fisherman's daughter. Little Mags, who'll die in the bloodbath. I was fifteen. I'm still younger than both of you. Would you think I had it in me to kill?"

"No," Ella admitted. Under other circumstances, she would never have guessed that the girl across from her, smiling and laughing and poking fun at herself, was a victor. That she had trapped one tribute in a net lined with fishhooks and slit his throat. That she had lured four others to their deaths in a river.

"But I am," Mags pointed out. "The Games change you, Ella, whether you live or die. And you can either fight that change, struggle against it with all your might, swear never to let the Games get the better of you … or you can accept it. Think of the Games like … like water."

"Water?" Mars asked sarcastically, and Ella had to admit that she agreed. Now, if Mags had said 'fire' or 'lightning' or 'a hurricane,' then maybe. But water?

"Water," Mags repeated. "The ocean. The tide. What does the ocean do to rocks?"

Ella hesitated. She hadn't expected a pop quiz. "Erodes them?"

Mags smiled. "Exactly. It wears them down. Tears them apart, eventually. Because they're strong. Because they don't change with the tide." She threw a glance in Mars' direction. "That's what the Games do. They don't break you immediately – not usually. They wear you away bit by bit, and if you don't accept that, then, eventually, you crack." She turned back to Ella. "So you're not a rock. That's okay. You don't want to be. As soon as you think you're invincible – that's when you've lost. I spent every day in the arena afraid that it would be my last. And that kept me alive."

"Fear kept you alive," Ella repeated. Maybe that had worked well for Mags, but Ella didn't exactly have a good history with fear. It definitely wasn't something that she wanted controlling her actions.

"Fear and hope," Mags agreed. "You need them both. When you're out on the ocean, you need an anchor. A lighthouse. A reason to come back. What do you want to come back to?"

"My family," Ella replied instinctively. She could only imagine how her mother and father would feel if she died. But that was nothing special. Nothing different. Surely all the other tributes were thinking the same thing. "But what makes my reasons any better than anyone else's? What makes my family more important than theirs?"

"Nothing," Mags admitted. "You're absolutely right – there are twenty-three other tributes out there who want the same thing. To come home."

Mars scoffed, disgusted. "Maybe some of us don't. Ever think of that, Little Miss I-Want-to-Get-Back-to-my-Family?" He stormed off to the next car.

Mags winced. "I'll apologize to him later."

Ella shrugged. "Nothing to apologize for. You were telling the truth. If he wants to make it back, he needs a good reason."

Mags shook her head. "I'm not sure he wants to make it back, Ella. Which means there's only so much I can do for him. But you had a good point. Most people have a reason. Usually a good one. And recognizing that puts you a step ahead of everyone who's convinced their reason is the best. As soon as you realize that everyone else is just as desperate to stay alive as you are, you start to understand just how dangerous the Games really are."

Ella nodded. She hadn't really thought about it like that. If she had cut off her own finger in a moment of panic – not even a life-or-death situation – how much more dangerous would the other tributes be when they were fighting for their lives? "Thanks, Mags."

The younger girl smiled. "You're welcome." She rose and started in the direction Mars had gone.

"Mags?" Ella asked. Mags turned. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"What was your reason – for wanting to come home? Do you have family?"

Mags shook her head. "My mother died during the rebellion – I don't really remember her. My father was killed in a shipwreck when I was twelve. My aunt and uncle took care of me after that, but we were never really close – I was just another mouth to feed."

"What, then?"

Mags smiled sheepishly. "It'll sound stupid."

"I won't tell a soul."

"The sea," Mags admitted. "I wanted to smell the sea again. All those rivers in the arena? Fresh water. No waves. No salt air. I didn't want to die like that. I always hoped that, when I died, I'd be able to hear the sea."

Ella smiled. "I hope that's not for a long, long time."

Mags nodded. "You, too, Ella. You, too."

"The enemy? His sense of duty was no less than yours, I deem. You wonder what his name is, where he came from, and if he was really evil at heart, what lies or threats led him on this long march from home, and if he would rather have stayed there, in peace."