Diggory Keane, 17

District Eleven Male

"I remember your brother," Brady Beltrami says as the train races through the barriers around Eleven.

Diggory does nothing but purse his lips. He doesn't want to talk about his brother. There will be plenty of time to talk about his brother when he's standing on a stage, trying to convince the world that he is the most worthy of surviving.

Ashe has already run off somewhere, and their escort followed her. Diggory glances at his district partner, who is staring out the windows with a disgruntled look on his face. He hasn't been able to get a read on her yet—she had little reaction to be Reaped, and she came out of the Justice Building looking put together. So maybe she's disgruntled because she's been Reaped, but it could also be because her mentor ran off. Or maybe she's mad about the weather. Anything could happen.

"Brice talked about him a lot," Brady continues, like he can't see that Diggory doesn't want to discuss this.

"Who was your brother?" Kyrum asks, so it looks like Diggory is going to talk about him.

"Galen," Diggory says. "He died in the Games a few years ago."

"Hm," Kyrum says. "The name sounds familiar."

He's pretty sure she's just saying that, but it doesn't matter.

"He was a good kid," Brady says. "Brice always said that."

Galen was more than a good kid. He was a good brother, a good friend, always striving to keep him and Diggory afloat. He worked more than anything else, and sometimes Diggory wonders if he regretted that. As he lay dying in that storm, did he think about his life and how little he did with it? Did he blame Diggory for the fact that he had to? He called out for Diggory as he died. Did he want him to pay him back for everything he did?

Diggory stands up suddenly. He can't think about this anymore. "The recap is probably on. We should watch it."

"Sounds like a good idea," Brady says. He motions to Kyrum, and three of them move over to the sitting area and turn on the tv. Diggory barely pays any attention, zoning out until he hears it.

"My name is Alastor Cousteau," the boy on the television says to a cheering crowd. The applause for him and his district partner, both the picture of District Two perfection, is resounding. He looks so much like his brother. He looks so much like his brother.

Diggory stands up again and leaves the train car without another word.

He has no idea where he's going, but he just has to get away. After only a few cars, he reaches the end of the train. With nowhere else to go, Diggory collapses on the rounded couch by the windows and puts his head in his hands.

There really is nowhere else to go, huh? Not just on this train. But Diggory's stuck. He wonders if Galen felt like this. He wishes he could ask him.

Diggory has long since gotten used to Galen's ghost following him everywhere he goes. Galen has no one else to haunt, after all. His killer is dead, although his brother is still out there, apparently. So of course, Diggory is used to seeing Galen around every corner, long accepted that he'll be missing him for the rest of his life.

But he's never seen Galen's killer around. That boy on the screen—Diggory would know him anywhere. He hasn't watched Galen die since he saw it live, but he would know that face even if he was blind.

"So, did the careers freak you out, or was it something more specific?"

Kyrum's voice startles Diggory. He hadn't realized anyone had come into the car. He's going to need to get more observant, huh? What with where he's going.

He peeks at Kyrum through his fingers. "It's…nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Hey, as far as I'm concerned, we're allies right off the bat," Kyrum says.

Diggory sits up. "Why would you assume that?"

He's not trying to be mean, but he can tell Kyrum doesn't take it that way. "Because we can win together, jerk. Everyone else is going to be doing it. We're going to be at a disadvantage if we don't."

"Right," Diggory says. "Right. I'm sorry. I was…distracted."

"Yeah. By the Careers," Kyrum says.

"You could say that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kyrum asks.

"I mean," Diggory says. "That one of the Careers' brother killed my brother."

"Oh," Kyrum says. "Well, you'll have to get 'em back, huh?"

"What?" Diggory says. He hadn't even thought of that. "I don't want to fight him. I feel like it would just turn out the same way it did last time. You know, those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it? We don't really need a rematch."

"If you say so," Kyrum says. "All I'm saying is, maybe you could take him down if you had a teammate."

Diggory glances at her out of the corner of his eye. She's not looking at him, leaning back against the cushions and watching the scenery rush by. For a moment, he just watches her. She looks over at him, like she's waiting for an answer, and he catches something in her eyes. Pity.

"I don't need your help," Diggory says. He thinks about leaving again, trying to find his compartment, maybe. He's always preferred to deal with his problems alone. Galen was always getting after him for that. Galen hasn't been here for years. He doesn't know anything about Diggory. Not anymore.

Kyrum scoffs, getting up. "I don't need your help, either. Just thought we might do better as the two of us. Forgive me for assuming."

She leaves the car, and Diggory lets her. He puts his head in his hands again. Ever since Galen died, Diggory has been doing everything alone. Even before Galen died, Diggory was often alone. Galen didn't want him out in the fields too, saying it was too dangerous, and Diggory was never willing to fight him on it. So he's no stranger to being alone. He's alone more often than not. He knows why it happens—he pushes away everyone who tries to help him. Galen used to get after him about that, too.

He looks around the train car, at the glass windows showing Panem race past. There is no way out of here. Diggory thought the same thing when Galen was Reaped. Then, the only thing he could do was wait. He couldn't save his brother. Things are different now. Diggory isn't Galen, and if Diggory could pull his head out of his ass, he could have someone by his side until the end. He gets to his feet and goes to find Kyrum.

He couldn't save Galen, but he sure as hell can save himself.

Lev Muyskens, 15

District Three Male

They're all watching him; wanting to know why, surely. Lev squirms in his chair, glancing at Aderyn—Aderyn! The actual Aderyn Kabel, sitting right next to him!—who looks back at him with dubiously raised eyebrows. He doesn't want her to dislike him; he'd actually really like to get to know her, despite the circumstances. He hopes she's as nice as he always thought, but the way she's looking at him doesn't make him feel so confident.

Their mentors are giving him similar looks, and Lev swallows thickly, trying not to think about anything that has happened today. What he'd really like to do right now is go find his compartment and write for a while. Not about what happened today, but about someone else. Usually, he writes about other people because his life is too boring. Now, it's far too exciting.

But he can tell from the way they're all looking at him expectantly that he doesn't get the luxury of running off. He's going to have to explain sooner or later.

"Um," he says quietly, breaking the silence. "Is there a bathroom around here anywhere?"

It may sound like he's just making an excuse to leave, but he does actually have to go. It's been a long few hours, you know, considering…everything.

"There's one in the next car, dear," their escort says, pointing toward the door.

"Thanks," Lev says, hopping out of his chair and hurrying out of the car. He shuts himself in the bathroom and takes a deep breath. He can't even feel the car swaying beneath his feet. He's never been on a train before. This one is so smooth, it's almost like magic. He does his business, and when he's done, he takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror.

The whole of Panem saw him today. They saw him put his hand in the air and volunteer. They're probably all asking the same question his mentors are. He doesn't exactly look like the average volunteer.

Finally, Lev emerges from the bathroom, feeling almost ready to try to explain. Before he gets the chance to gather his thoughts any more, he runs right into Aderyn. She's a like a solid block; she must work out more than he does. He goes tumbling to the ground.

"God, I thought you were never coming out of there," Aderyn says, reaching down to help him up. Lev takes her hand, letting her pull him back to his feet.

"You were waiting for me to come out of bathroom?" Lev says.

"Yeah," Aderyn says. "Figured you were just trying to get out of there."

Lev bites his lip and shrugs. He keeps chewing his lip as Aderyn continues.

"Just wanted to know why you did it," Aderyn says casually. She leans against the wall, and Lev has never been that great at reading body language, but he can tell she's trying so hard to look nonchalant.

"It's…complicated," Lev says, remembering the fear on Mateo's face when they read out his name. He looked so little standing up there next to Aderyn. He watched Mateo walk all of the way to the stage, and when their escort called out for volunteers, Niko tried to— "I had to stop him."

"What?"

The sight of Niko putting his hand in the air just ignited something inside of Lev. He didn't think. Before he was aware of anything, he had already pushed Niko out of the way and declared his intention to volunteer. After all, he was the oldest, he was the healthiest—didn't that mean he had an obligation to protect them?

"Niko," Lev says. "He's my twin brother. He's always been sick. He was going to volunteer. I couldn't—I couldn't let him."

"Why was he going to volunteer?" Aderyn asks. She's got this expression on her face like she doesn't understand any of this. Lev will just have to explain it better.

"Because Mateo was Reaped," Lev says. "Mateo's our little brother. Adopted. When our parents adopted us…well, Mateo was already there. He'd always been there. I guess Niko had to save him. And I had to save Niko."

He thinks he knows why Niko did it. They both indebted to their adoptive parents; always have. Life before them was awful, and Lev supposes that one of the few ways they can pay them back is by saving their biological son. But he's not sure that's what they wanted them to do—neither of them said in the Justice Building, and Lev didn't have the confidence to ask.

Aderyn stares at him for a moment. "You're an idiot."

That startles Lev. He furrows his brow and says, "What?"

"I didn't—that didn't come out right," Aderyn says, shaking her head. Lev smiles at her; he can't help it, alright? He already liked her before all of this. "I mean that…I just don't understand why you would do that."

"They're my brothers," Lev says. "Why wouldn't I do that?"

"But you're probably gonna die."

"They told me that too," Lev says. "And I told them…I told them that it's okay. Because they're not." He pauses for a moment, wondering how much he should tell Aderyn. She's one of those people he implicitly trusts; maybe it's because he just feels like he knows her already. "Niko wouldn't have lasted in the arena. He gets fainting spells. And Mateo's just twelve…he's a kid."

Aderyn purses her lips. After a moment, she says, "Well, I may not understand why you're here, but I'd rather have you by my side than someone with fainting spells. We cool?"

Lev lights up. Awkwardly, he extends his hand for a shake. "We're cool."

"Awesome," Aderyn says, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "We should probably go see our mentors. They probably think we're trying to escape through the sewage system or something."

Lev laughs. "You think that would actually work?"

For a moment, he thinks Aderyn actually wants to try. After a moment of what looks like serious consideration, Aderyn hits him lightly in the arm and says, "Oh, come on! Like that would ever work."

"Worth a shot, right?" Lev says.

"God, I'd crawl through a tunnel full of shit to get off this train," Aderyn says as they walk back toward the dining car.

Lev laughs. He's not sure he's ever felt endeared to someone after they called him an idiot, but Aderyn is magnetic. When he stands there, joking around with her, he can almost forget what they're joking about and where they're going. He can almost pretend that nothing of note happened today, except for the fact that he befriended one of his magic idols. The train car doesn't sway beneath their feet; it's almost like being at home. Being around Aderyn makes magic a little bit more real.

And then they enter the dining car, and Thalia says, "So, want to tell us what exactly went down in the square today?" and Lev can't forget about anything.

Eike Belladonna, 18

District One Female

"I'm sorry, who exactly do you think you are?"

It's the first thing Eike hears when she steps into the dining car. Really, whoever said it is a tossup—could be Pyrite, could be whatever her district partner is called. She only remembers that his name was pretty stupid.

She turns around, finding herself face to face with Stupid Name himself. For a moment, she's annoyed and disappointed that he's going to be antagonistic over this. When she made the decision to volunteer, she knew it was unlikely she'd receive much support. But, still, she had hoped they could come to some kind of a compromise, given the rule change. She should have known not to expect that much from a chosen volunteer. She sighs, rolls her eyes, and says, "Last time I checked, I'm your district partner."

She's not a hundred percent certain where the snark came from. Usually, she's only that outwardly rude to her uncle. But this is a weird situation, and she has ever right to be pissed off that she'll be playing at a disadvantage because her district partner wants to be a dick.

Stupid Name looks her up and down and says, "Hm, no. You're not Copper Prowess, which means you're a cheater."

"A cheater?" Eike says. "There's no such thing as a cheater here."

"Fine, a wrench then," Stupid Name says.

"A wrench?" Eike repeats, more confused than offended.

"Yes, because you've thrown a wrench into all of my plans," he says haughtily, putting his hands on his hips.

"I have far more plans than you've ever made," Eike snipes back. Somewhere behind her, she hears one of their mentors sigh—maybe in frustration, maybe in annoyance. It's hard to tell.

"Oh, I highly doubt that," he says. "Have you even trained at all?"

"Of course I've trained," Eike says. She considers leaving, knowing that this conversation will only get more heated the longer she stays. But Eike is nothing if not willing to defend her own honor. "Do you think I'm some kind of street urchin?"

"What, with those clothes?" he says, giving her another once over. Eike has always prided herself on not caring what other people think; ever since she was a small child, she was going to school covered in dust. People used to taunt her by asking if she commuted from District Twelve every morning. Eike refused to ever let it bother her. But for once, she glances down at her clothes and remembers that all of Panem saw her like this. They're already making assumptions based on her dirty pants and grease stained shirt. "I honestly couldn't be sure."

"Oh, like your clothes are much better?" Eike says.

Stupid Name scoffs. "What issue do you take with my clothes?" he says, as if there couldn't possibly be a single issue with his fucking gold trimmed dress shirt.

"Other than the fact that they tell me you've never suffered a single hardship in your entire life?" Eike says. "Perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect skin—how are you ever going to survive in the dirty, dirty arena?"

The boy's lips part, and Eike allows herself to be satisfied. She's always held a certain disdain for people who think they're better than her. In District One, there's a lot of people who think they're better than her. Usually, she restrains herself in the face of insults like that, mainly because she doesn't need her uncle coming down on her for it. But her uncle's not here. He can't do shit about she does, ever again.

She feels satisfied for a moment, and then remembers where they're going. And if this boy isn't with her, then he's against her. That makes him dangerous. She doesn't need to be making enemies already. Everyone else is already going to be against her. She should be trying to befriend this idiot, no matter how patronizing he is to her.

No matter how she feels about him, Eike starts to say, "I'm sor—"

But he talks over her. "God, you really are exactly what they say you are, huh?"

Eike freezes, breath stuttering in her chest. All of a sudden, hot anger is boiling in her stomach. The kind of anger she rarely feels, the kind that was previously reserved for her uncle's insults. In a way, this is over her uncle's insults—he's been shit talking her since she was a preteen. Of course his fucking lies would have spread to District One's elites. In any other situation, Eike would let it slide off her back, always trying to be in control of her emotions. But this—god, nothing pisses her off like the fallout of her uncle's actions. In a deathly calm voice, she says, "What?"

"Maybe it's time to go cool off," Pyrite says, trying to step in between them. "I don't think we're—"

"Stay out of this," Eike says. "I'll have you know that there is one very good reason that I "cheated", and it's better than any reason you could have to volunteer by a mile. My uncle, that you so prodigiously listened to when he said horrible things about me, is going to sell my parents' smithy and fill it with garbage. I'm here because I can't allow that to happen. That smithy is my home. It's where my parents fucking ghosts are. So you can believe whatever you want about me, but why don't you just keep it to yourself?"

She starts to walk away, and even when he starts talking again, she considers not stopping. "Fine, then. I'll just keep everything to myself, including my well-deserved Victory."

She really wants to just leave, be done with this whole conversation, and go regret it in another room. But that fire's still roaring in her stomach, so she looks over her shoulder and says, "I sure hope you do. I wouldn't want to share my Victory with someone like you."

"Well, good, because I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire," Stupid Name says, as if that's some sort of a witty comeback.

Eike just laughs and leaves. She can hear him say more as she exits the car, but that seems like the right time to leave the argument. She walks until she finds the compartment labeled FEMALE, which is just heartwarming, and she collapses face down on the bed inside. She doesn't know how long she lies there, only that eventually the door opens and someone says, "Well, that could've gone better."

Eike lifts her head off of the mattress and sees the silhouette of Alexandrite Hildebrand in her doorway. "I used to have a poster of you."

"Lots of people have posters of me," Alexandrite says. She comes inside and sits on the edge of the bed. "I feel like I have to preface this by saying that I don't condone rogue volunteering, but I want you to know that I feel for you. I'm going to help you."

"You are?"

"Well, I would very bad at my job if I didn't," Alexandrite says. "Believe me, I've dealt with worse tributes than you."

Eike's not so sure how she feels about that, but after that argument with her district partner…well, she figures she should take what she can get. "I should tell you that I'm not…normally like that. It's just that…those rumors drive me insane, and he's going to turn my home into a landfill if I don't win, you know?"

"I'm not worried about it," Alexandrite says. "You've got fire in you."

Her brothers used to say she had fire in her eyes. Maybe it'll catch on.

Fergus Pickard, 12

District Five Male

Fergus wishes he was better at comforting people. His district partner is bawling her eyes out on the couch, and Fergus can't do anything but hover around her. Ave is talking to her gently, and Fergus wrings his hands as she cries.

She'd volunteered in a panic. Fergus had already been standing on the stage, trying so desperately to hold it together, when she'd lunged out of the crowd, crying those damning words. And, as a nice touch, she told the mayor to go to hell. Fergus doesn't know what to make of her—he just knows that she needs to be comforted, and he's not good at that.

Maybe it's because Fergus also kinda needs to be comforted right now. No one had to come to say goodbye to him, even as he had so foolishly hoped someone from the Community Home might. He's never felt more alone in his entire life. If he goes out into the arena and the dies, no one will care. The Community Home won't mourn—they'll hardly even remember he used to live there.

He'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen. If he goes out there and wins, everyone in the Community Home will remember him. He could use his winnings to improve conditions for them, and all of the other orphans in the district. Maybe people will want to be his friend then.

Fergus has to survive. And the first step is getting Sparka on his side, right? If they're not working together, they'll be at a disadvantage.

"They were going to make me go back," Sparka wails. "I couldn't let them take me back! I couldn't!"

Ave pats her back, telling her it's going to be alright, but Sparka doesn't stop crying. Fergus decides to do the only thing he knows how to—tell jokes.

"Hey, Sparka, do you know why we don't see elephants hiding in trees?" Fergus asks, stepping into Sparka's line of sight. Both Ave and Sparka look at him questioningly.

After a moment, Sparka wipes her eyes and says, "N-no. Why?"

"Because they're really good at it," Fergus says.

Everyone, including Jay and their escort, just stare at him. Okay, maybe that one's not going to work. That's fine—Fergus has tons of jokes in his repertoire.

"Okay. Um. Knock knock," Fergus says.

Sparka sniffles. "Who's there?"

"Wooden shoe," Fergus answers. He tries to force back his grin, because he hasn't even gotten to the punchline yet.

"Wooden shoe who?" Sparka asks, voice cracking, probably from all of the crying.

"Wooden shoe like to hear another joke?" Fergus says, grin splitting his face.

Sparka barks out a laugh, and Fergus's grin only grows. Who said he was bad at comforting people? He's nailing it right now. Ave smiles at him too, although Jay's just looking at him pensively. Hey, maybe he's not going to make it, but he can make Panem laugh, right? That…that makes it okay. Maybe not okay, but better.

"I think…I think I would like to hear another joke," Sparka says.

"Okay!" Fergus says. "I was going to tell a time traveling joke, but you didn't like it."

Sparka laughs some more, wiping her eyes again. After a moment, she quiets and says, "I wish I did have a time machine."

Fergus's lips thin as he tries to come up another joke to cheer her up. "Um, what did, what did the cucumber say to the pickle?"

"What?" Sparka says.

"You mean a great dill to me," Fergus says, and Sparka laughs again. He should ask if they're going to be allies. What with the rule change and all, it only makes sense, right? But Fergus wouldn't be surprised if no one wants him on their team. He's just a kid, and you can't joke your way out of the Hunger Games. Still, he has to ask. "Do you wanna—are we gonna team up?"

Sparka's laugh stops abruptly. She pulls her shoulders forward, like she wants to shrink. Fergus's chest twinges.

"That sounds like a great idea," Ave says.

"No," Sparka says. Before anyone can stop her, she leaves the car like she was set on fire.

"Oh," Fergus says when she's gone. "Did I…did I do something wrong?"

"I don't think so," Ave says. "I think that Sparka's had a hard life."

"Should I go after her?" Fergus says. "I should probably go after her."

"Stay," Jay says. "Leave her be for now."

"O…okay," Fergus says, gingerly sitting down on one of the armchairs. He looks up at his mentors—their escort must've wandered off somewhere—almost cowering under the weight of their pity and sadness. He feels the need to defend himself, tell that he's not dead meat like they clearly think he is, but he doesn't know what to say.

Fergus is going to go out there and give his all. He knows the odds are stacked against him, especially if Sparka refuses to work with him. But kids his age have won before. Sure, there's only been a couple, but it has happened. And there was nothing special about those kids, either. Fergus might just be the next one to get lucky. He has to try. And if he fails? Well, at least he can make all of Panem remember him.

"Can we…can we make a plan?" Fergus asks Jay. He's not a hundred percent sure on how all of this is supposed to go, but he knows they need a plan.

Jay jumps. He stares at Fergus for a moment, hand over his mouth, and turns and hurries out of the car. Fergus blinks a couple of times, trying to figure out what just happened. Ave sighs, sitting back against the couch.

"Um, Mrs. Samenfield?" he says to Ave. "Why did he leave?"

"He just…needs a moment," Ave says. "He hasn't mentored in a long time. It's…hard, to get back into the swing of things. And you don't have to call me Mrs. Samenfield. Ave is just fine."

"Okay," Fergus says. "Don't count me out, okay? I'm going to try."

"I know you are," Ave says, still looking at him with sadness and pity. "I know you are."

Fetu Osmo, 18

District Four Male

Over dinner, Fetu, Cascina, and their mentors put their heads together and plan. Chance and Alec have apparently been putting plans together since the two of them were chosen to volunteer. It's almost admirable, Fetu thinks—their desperation to bring both of their tributes home alive.

Trouble is, Fetu doesn't plan on sharing his Victory. He likes Cascina as much as the next person, but he deserves to stand alone in the spotlight. He refuses to be a part of "the Victors from Four". He will be the Victor from Four, thank you very much. If it comes down to it, Fetu is not above stabbing Cascina in the back to ensure his solo Victory.

But none of them need to know that. For now, all they need to know is Fetu is willing to work with her. And he is, until a certain point. Who knows, maybe Cascina will be dead by the time he has to consider it, and none of this will matter anyway.

He's only half listening to whatever Chance is going on about—interview strategies or something. He's been enjoying the food, imagining spending the rest of his life eating this stuff. Perhaps he could take Caspian with him to the Capitol and treat him to all of the goodness it has to offer.

As he imagines this date, he notices that Cascina's plate is empty. Not because she has cleared it, but because she never put food on it in the first place. Curious, Fetu says, "Well, partner, you'd better eat something there. You're going to need your strength in the arena, huh?"

Cascina turns to look at him, anger flaring in her eyes. "Mind your own business."

"Pardon?" Fetu says. "I'm only trying to look out for you. If we're going to be working together, we should trust each other, shouldn't we?"

Cascina gives him a once over. "Of course we should trust each other. Which means, you should trust me enough to not interrogate me about my food."

"Or lack thereof?" Fetu says, smirking at Cascina's empty plate.

He certainly wants to know why she's not eating. However, it's not out any sort of concern for her—more that it's a potential weakness that could be exploited.

"Like you don't know why I'm not eating," Cascina says, glaring at him. "Now we were—"

Taken aback, Fetu interrupts. "I don't…think that I do."

He thinks back. He's known Cascina for his whole life. They've trained side by side for years. Ah. She must be referring to when she was so ill.

Cascina sighs, lips pressed into a thin line. "Not a particularly observant one, are you."

Oh, please. Fetu does nothing but observe people—you have to watch people if you're going to be able to make them do what you want. If you don't understand what makes them tick, then you'll never be able to manipulate. He'll admit, he has been slipping a bit in not paying enough attention to Cascina, but he has a week before they go into the Games to figure her out.

"I suppose I haven't been much attention to you," Fetu says. "I've had my own problems, you know."

Has he? Fetu likes to think he doesn't have problems. But Cascina will find him more relatable if he implies that a lot has been going on in his life too.

"Fine," Cascina says. "I was poisoned by my mother."

Fetu carefully files that information away. It certainly sounds like a weakness, and certainly sounds like one Fetu could exploit. "That must have been terrible."

"It is what it is," Cascina says. "Let's get back to the planning."

"Good idea," Chance says. "So, in the interviews, you're going to want to present a united—"

"Is that why you're not eating?" Fetu says. "You think you're being poisoned?"

He's trying to come across as sincere and concerned. It's something he's very good at it, and he's gotten so much better at it since he got himself a boyfriend. It's a lot easier to come across as sincere when you get the chance to actually be sincere with someone.

Cascina's lips thin again. After a moment, she says, "Mind your own damn business."

Fetu doesn't want to drop the topic, but figures he's not going to get anywhere by pushing it. Besides, he's got plenty of time to figure out how deep the poison trauma goes. "You know, I think I'm actually going to turn in for the night," Fetu says, getting up from the table and stretching. "I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to discuss interview strategies later."

Chance and Alec bid good night to him. After a moment, he eyes Cascina, who says begrudgingly, "Good night."

Eventually, he finds his compartment. Through the window, he can see the sun is setting. Caspian is watching that same sunset. So is his mother.

The thought of his mother makes him sit down hard on the bed. When he comes home in one piece, she'll be proud of him. She's always been sparse with her praise, always been stern and filled with expectations. Fetu is going to meet every one of those expectations, and then he'll live out of the rest of his days with Caspian by his side. His mother can't disapprove of him dating once he's a Victor. And he'll be a Victor soon.

(His nightmares are filled with images of his gravestone. He's made many visits to the Tribute Graveyard, mainly to imagine what his name will look like carved into the fountain. That's where his name belongs, not on some impersonal grave, marked with nothing but his name and placement. But Fetu can't stop imagining it—this nightmare plays out night after night, haunting him with the fear that he might be making a mistake.)

He really has nothing to worry about. This rule change is going to throw everyone out of whack, and Fetu will be the only one playing by the old rules. Rather than running around trying to protect his district partner too, Fetu will be cutting through the competition. He can hardly wait.

The anticipation has been killing him for a long time. But he's finally here. Tomorrow, they'll arrive in the Capitol, and the next chapter of Fetu's life can truly begin.

a/n: a much more timely update this time. Next chapter will be an interlude, where we will find out what is going on with Lanai and Brady Beltrami, if you can remember that long ago.

-ben