Chapter 3: Tokens and Farewells

The last thirty minutes or so were little more than I blur. I vaguely remember being dragged down into the Justice Building by Peacekeepers, and avoiding a good dozen or so cameras wielded by Capitolites that were pointed in my direction. The Peacekeepers had been a bit more... gentle... with my fellow competitor, though probably more from fear of having their head ripped off than anything. She really was a monster, and her glare seemed to be for everyone, not just for me.

I felt sort of sorry for her, in a way. Clay was eighteen, and if she had managed to avoid being chosen for the games today, she would have been able to wash her hands of the whole affair, and move on with her life. It was understandable that she was so pissed off at everyone and anyone who came within a ten foot radius of her.

Once we had been ushered away from the cameras and the crowds, the Peacekeepers had shoved the giant girl into a room, before promptly doing the same with me. I distinctly heard the lock click on the door. They were definitely not going to be taking any chances with me escaping from my fate. It would probably cost them their lives, if they were to let a tribute escape. My fate had been sealed the moment my name was pulled from the glass jar, ten minutes ago.

The room was one of the fanciest I had ever been in. Everything was so elegant that I was afraid to touch anything, for fear of getting in trouble. A small platter of food was laid out on a table in front of me, what looked like a roasted pheasant and some of the most exquisite vegetables that District Nine had to offer. I just stared at it, my mind blank.

I was anything but hungry.

It was sort of disconcerting, realising that I would likely be dead in under a week. I mad no skills, no hope. The brutal careers, or even my own violent looking district partner, would tear my life from me with their own hands if given half a chance. I shuddered, the truth finally hitting me.

I was dead. First, they would parade me around like some kind of animal, then send me to my death. Letting my green eyes shut, I bit back the tears and screams that wanted to come loose. It wasn't fair. I had never done anything to deserve this, never taken tesserae, or done anything to the Capitol. Yet, I was slated to die for their amusement in some arena designed by some sick-minded freak in less than week. There was no logic, no reason. Simply the luck of the draw.

As the saying went. May the odds be ever in your favour. I felt bile rising up in the back of my throat, the pounding my my head making me feel dizzy. Letting myself collapse to the floor, I took in a few sharp breaths.

I had to be strong. If I let my weakness show, then I would be giving them what they wanted. My fear. My death.

There was no way I was just going to take my inevitable death at the hands of some sick, twisted tribute from one of the career districts lying down. Not a chance in hell. My family had raised me to be tough er than this, to always look for the positives in any situation and use them to my advantage.

Calming down, I let my brain slowly start working again. I was fast. Agile. Reasonably fit and with a toned physique from years of hard labour, if not a bulky giant. While I wasn't exactly a skilled fighter, I was deadly accurate with that slingshot I spent so much time practicing with. If the other tributes wanted me dead, they would have to catch me first. I had no intentions of being an easy mark.

To top that off, I was also pretty handy with a sickle, or a big double handed scythe at a stretch. Even a pitchfork wouldn't be beyond me, if I could get my hands on one. Spending years helping my parents out with the harvest had given me a pretty thorough grasp of how to handle the more rudimentary farming implements that we used. Even if I had little idea of how to use them as weapons, I'm sure that with a bit of practice even the most simple of tools could be turned to weapons in order to defend myself.

There. Things weren't so hopeless as they had seemed, a few minutes ago.

I was startled out of my reverie by a loud click, and the sound of the door swinging open, followed the harsh voice of a Peacekeeper. Oh, right. The families of the tributes were allowed to visit them before they were sent off to their deaths. I had almost entirely forgotten about that, in my mental battle to keep from collapsing in defeat before the Games had even started.

My mother was ushered in, clutching my baby sister to her chest. My father followed close behind. Both of their faces were streaked red with tears, and little Sandy looked more confused, than anything. She obviously didn't understand what was happening, only that my parents were upset and that her brother had been taken away by the big scary Peacekeepers.

I almost envied her for her innocence. Putting on a big, fake smile, I tried my best to keep the fear from clouding my eyes. If only for my baby sisters benefit.

"Hey mum, hey dad," I said, keeping my voice controlled, calm, "Good to see you. I didn't think they would let you come."

Mum had been hysterical. It was a valid concern. The peacekeepers could have just as easily refused my family entry, ans allow them in to see me. They would have been justified in doing so.

"We had to come," My father said, eying me with sorrow in his eyes, "I wanted to tell you that we're proud of you, Leo. That no matter what happens, you must always remember that."

I glanced to the floor, trying not to let the doubt creep into my expression. It sounded as though my dad had already written me off as dead. He wasn't far wrong in doing so, but it was still a hard pill to swallow.

"Thanks Dad. I'll remember," I say, putting on a brave face for their benefit.

Mum let out a cry, before rushing to me and embracing me in her arms, sobbing again.

"I don't want them to take you away," she cried, clutching me tightly to her chest, "they can't take away my baby. My little lion."

I pulled away from her, embarrassed. It was already hard enough, having to go to the Hunger Games, but seeming my mother break down like this was not helping at all. It would be hard to remain strong, when I remember her tear stained face and the way she couldn't let me go.

Glancing at my baby sister, I saw the questioning in her eyes. Crouching down to her level, I smiled and pulled her into my arms. 'I love you Sandy," I say, meaning every word, "I promised you I would come home tomorrow, didn't I?" I say, staring into her wide eyes, "I'll keep that promise. I have to go away for a while, though. You have to stay strong and look after mum and dad for me, alright?"

She nodded, pulling me into her arms again. "I'll help mum be happy, Kitty," she said, still not understanding why I had to go away.

My dad coughed, drawing my attention to him. The old man glanced me up and down, as if evaluating. "Son. I taught you to use a sickle. You know about every plant under the sun and how to find your way home and read the sun and the stars. You'll come home, I'm sure of it."

Suddenly, he pushed a small object into the palm of my hand. "Take this as a token, he whispered, so only he and I could hear his words, "If anything will protect you and remind you of who you are, this is it."

The doors slammed open again, and the Peacekeepers surged in, dragging my dad and my screaming mum away, my little sister following them in confusion. I choked back a sob of my own. I was never going to see my family again.

Realising I still had the token my dad had thrust at me clasped in my hand, I uncurled my fingers and glanced at it. It was a miniature wooden lion, attached to the end of a leather necklace. I couldn't hold back the smile that quickly overtook my face, feeling a warm surge of gratitude and a tiny sliver of hope rush through me. He had been right, if anything was going to remind me of who I was, then this was it. I was a lion – and a lion was braver than this.

Putting the necklace around my neck, I calmly went to the table and started eating the food that had been laid out, mechanically. I was far from calm, but the motions of eating might help me to put my parents out of my mind and start focusing on what was to come, what plans and strategies I would need to use.

The Hunger Games started now. I couldn't afford to relax even one little bit, if I wanted to get out of this alive. Everything I did, everything I said. The people I talked to, the victors who would mentor me. Even my murderous looking district mate. I needed these people to be on my side, if I intended to walk away from that arena unscathed.

It was unlikely I would be able to get to Clay, but maybe with some work I could convince her that murdering me from the start wouldn't be in her best interests. That timid little escort of ours though, and even the past victors, would be a lot easier to sway to my side. I sat thinking, calmly plotting how I would get those allies I needed in order to protect myself.

Once in the actual arena, friends on the outside could prove invaluable. The rich Capitol denizens could act as sponsors and send you life saving gifts, things that would help you to live that little bit longer and give you that tiny advantage against the other tributes. I needed to earn sponsors, and the best people to get them for me were none other than District Nine's past victors, and that little yellow freak Horace.

Raising my head up high, contemplatively, I waited for the Peacekeepers to come and fetch me away. I was anything but calm. I was terrified. But I was determined.

When they did come for me, I went with them with my head held high and a forced smile plastered across my face. They had fetched my district mate as well, and the girl glared suspiciously at me. No doubt she thought I was an idiot, grinning as they lead me to my death. But it was a necessary act. I needed to make those sick bastards in the Capitol like me. Like me just enough to want to save me.

We were lead out of the justice building, and back into the eyes of the dozens of cameras and screaming journalists. I smiled at them, even giving a small wave and a bow. They lapped it right up.

The Peacekeeper leading me frowned, before grabbing me by the scruff of my neck and throwing me bodily into a waiting car. He was obviously not amused by my antics.

I didn't try to speak with Clay in the short car ride, and she did much the same. Obviously there was not going to be some miraculous friendship to sprout between us. We both knew the harsh reality. Only one of us could emerge from this debacle alive. Getting attached would only make it more painful later, so it was better to keep our distance from each other.

Even so, I thought, eyeing her contemplatively. I needed to use my proximity to this girl to convince her not to kill me. There were going to be twenty three other tributes in that arena. Having one of them not gunning for me wouldn't hurt my chances.

When the car skidded to a halt outside the train station, I stared in wonder at the shining contraption which stood awaiting us. The Capitol obviously took no half measures when it went to bringing in their chosen tributes. The train was a marvel of technology, gleaming silver and inviting.

Climbing out of the car and following the blabbering form of our escort Horace up into the silver monstrosity of a train, I couldn't help but smirk. It seemed that the last days of our lives would be spent experiencing nothing short of the best the Capitol had to offer.