Bull Clementine, 17
District Ten Male Tribute

The bravado was gone from Bull's posture as he sat on a cold metal bench in a sterile Justice Hall room. It surprised him how much he noticed about it. The room was so much nicer than most homes he'd seen - the unpeeled paint, the lightbulb that didn't flicker and whose wires weren't frayed, the air conditioning pipes along the ceiling. Even a Capitolite holding cell was better than District luxury.

Bull's chest gave a throb when the doorknob turned. He rose, unsure what to do, as his parents entered. Their faces searched his for fear, trying to remain stoic, as he did the same to them. They sat on either side of him, crowding the small bench, his mother laying a hand on his back as his father struggled to decide what to say.

"You know what you have to do," he settled on.

Bull did know. His father had the same empty, worn look as he had when he'd first taken Bull into the slaughterhouse to pass on his profession. Bull remembered the intimate marks it had left on him. It had chilled him, how the cows came filing up. Some lowed in discomfort or trepidation, but most strode up fearlessly, unable to comprehend what was about to happen. He could conjure in his mind the first beef he had killed. It had swung up its head almost as though to meet the bolt gun he held. Its woman-like round brown eyes had been on his own as he lifted the gun. It had been so final, the life leaving it. The gun had given a tiny pop as air rushed into a piston. Nothing but meat had fallen to the ground. Behind the corpse, a hundred other cows filed along a step forward.

So many of them, Bull thought. How many were as unknowing as the cows? Surely some of them thought it was a joke, that this could not be. But Bull knew exactly what was coming.

Kassidi Traius, 14
District Six Female Tribute

Until Kassidi stood on the stage with her, she had half-believed that Pashmina was a robot. She had golden skin no human could possibly have and she lacked hair. It was only when Kassidi saw the rising and falling of her chest that she concluded the rumors about Pashmina were untrue. It was still not conclusive, though, because surely a robot could simulate breathing.

"Hi, sweetie!" Pashmina said brightly as Kassidi sat nervously at a dining car table on the rumbling train. Her expressive face suggested not only humanity, but warmth. She took a seat across from Kassidi.

"I'm Pashmina, and I'll be helping you through all this. I know it's really scary. It's new for me too, so we'll get through this together."

A jumble of unspoken thoughts fought in Kassidi's head.

No, we won't. I'll die and you'll go back to your house and your normal life.

She actually seems like she cares. Why would she take this job then?

You're not my mom. Stop pretending you care.

I want to go home.

"I'm sure you're nervous. Let's just take it one bit at a time." Pashmina put out a hand to lay on Kassidi's. Kassidi let it sit there, too overwhelmed and timid to react. It felt solid, having another human touching her. At the same time, it brought into sharp relief the absence of the contact she really wanted. Her family was gone. After a visit so short she hadn't known was happening before it was over, she was processing that she would probably never see them again.

Kassidi tried and failed to say something. She hadn't even known what it was. Instead her lips trembled and then her face followed. She put up her hands to hide herself as the tears started.

"Oh, hey, hey," Pashmina soothed as she came around to Kassidi's bench. She put her arms around Kassidi and patted her back. It wasn't her mother - it wasn't even close - but Kassidi let her. She was reaching for anything at all.

Maple Marks, 16
District Seven Female Tribute

Jemimah did not seem like the type Maple wanted to cross. She reminded Maple of the pinch-faced old ladies who chaperoned school dances, ensuring no girls got the affection from boys that they had never been offered in their own youths. Nonetheless, this woman was her only connection to the rules and expectations of the Capitol.

"I do not suppose you are educated in etiquette," Jemimah said. It was not an accusation, but merely a request for information.

"I mean, a little bit. I don't know things like what fork to use, though," Maple said. This is what you're worried about? Is a fork going to kill me in the Arena?

Jemimah seemed to soften a little. "That's all right. We have time."

The lesson started immediately in the form of lunch. A stream of Avoxes entered carrying a pot of tea and trays of sandwiches and small dishes. Maple tried to imitate Jemimah's movements as she arranged the settings.

"It is polite to break off a single piece and eat it," Jemimah said as she demonstrated. Maple was thankful she'd been too nervous to eat. Ignorant rube as she was, she was used to picking up a sandwich and biting it. The very idea turned her stomach, so she limited herself to sips of tea, which tasted like roses and almonds.

"So about the Games…" Maple tried to break in at an opportune moment. Just thinking about them made her stomach churn. It had been growing increasingly uneasy as lunch went on. Perhaps it was the unfamiliar motion of the train.

"If it's combat matters you're going to ask about, your instructors are much more knowledgeable than I am," Jemimah said.

So I'm just going to be stewing for the entire ride, Maple thought. Images of bloodied children and blades swinging through the air descended upon her. She took a breath, laying a hand on her stomach, and-

There was a tickle in her throat and then, before she even knew it was coming, tea and bile was rocketing out of her mouth with a force that impressed her. The sour taste flooded her mouth and the warmth stung in her nose. A puddle splatted across the table toward her chest-clutching mentor.

"Oh GRACIOUS!"

A/N: We have updated the story blog with pages for Escorts and Others!

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