The Hunger Games - Peeta's POV

Chapter Four - Train To Our Death

I spend the train ride trying to make sense of everything. Katniss does possibly quite the same, or quite the opposite. She spends the first day in her room, which is specially fitted with satin duvets. I spot Haymitch on the first night, hair ruffled, and swaying from side to side. I sit him down on one of the tables in the main car, and try to take care of him. I know that he is most likely to pick one of us to truly support, and I want that person to be me. Before I can say anything, he tells me
"I'm going to take a map" and leaves. Food, water, and possibly even matches could be the difference between my life and death. But while he is stocking up a carton with liquor, I think again. Coryl never really cared about me. He is much stronger and smarter than me, he would've had a better chance at winning. He didn't really see me off, either, telling me to save the girl. My father, who I heard thumping down the hallway to the room next to me - seeing Katniss off, even though they only met through business. And my mother, who sent me off shortly. Who do I have to come home to? Only I would benefit from the riches that would consume me if I won. The honour that is said to be achieved through the defeat of the Hunger Games isn't celebrated. It most certainly wouldn't be celebrated if I would have to kill Katniss on that journey. And then the thought really hit me; I really should help Katniss win. Coryl wasn't wrong - I should save the girl. She has a sister who obviously loves each other enough to volunteer for the other. Her mother, who would not be alive if Katniss hadn't hunted for the family - everyone knows it. She sells her game to the Hob, and has only survived by that. Her friend Gale, who resembles each other so much, who helps each other hunt and gather. Katniss herself, whose skill with bows and arrows should not be wasted. And so, through the process of elimination, Katniss deserves - and is owed, a spare in her life. I sleep on it, tossing and turning throughout the night. My decision is made, and no-one can alter it.
The morning arrives, and the train is passing through a green wood. I immediately stroll to the food cart, my stomach churning from only eating a loaf the day before. I sit down, surprised to see Haymitch fairly sober, eating a small piece of bread with jam. Conversation unlikely, I try to quickly get down to business. Even though I will die, I want to keep my life in order to protect Katniss.
"So, where do we get started?" I say, spreading a jam over my own loaf.
"Woah, why so eager? Usually you're all still shivering at the thought." he replies, filling a glass with more booze.
"I want to survive. I want to at least try." and so he starts giving me advice that is already obvious. "Find shelter. Find water. Find food. Don't light a fire"
"Why? I could be freezing cold, dying of hypothermia. And what about cooking meat?" and just then, Katniss walks in, thoroughly tired, but still a scowl on her face. She sits down across from me, grabs a plate, and starts to choose her breakfast. The conversation falls silent, only interrupted by Haymitch's swig of alcohol.
"So" Katniss says, her voice low and croaky. "Why don't you light a fire?"
"Smoke is too signalling. It'll tell everyone where you are."
"And what else. What else could save" she pauses before finishing her sentence "us."
"Both of you, so desperate to go into the arena. Give me a chance to wake up, sweetheart."
"What else could save us in the arena." Katniss repeats, her eyes locked on Haymitch.
"Stay alive" he laughs at his comment, almost falling off his chair.
"That's very funny," I say, as I knock the spirit from his hand. It splatters on the floor, emptying the bottle within seconds. "Only not to us" I finish, bracing myself for anything. In response, he punches me square in the jaw, causing me to tumble back, falling over my chair. Katniss jams her knife in-between Haymithc's ring and middle finger.
"Effie, do you think we've actually got a pair of fighters this year? Are you any good with that knife?" knowing that a knife is not her primary weapon, I am taken aback by how accurate it looks. She managed to throw it in between two planks on the wall of the cart. I feel as though I should advocate for her, and so I do.
"She is a monster with the bow and arrow as well. My father buys her squirrells. She hits them in the eye every time, to not ruin the meat." then her tone shifts, and she becomes defensive.
"Yeah, well Peeta can throw a sack of flour over his head. I've seen it done before." I smirk, hearing how stupid that sounds.
"I don't think that's going to help me in a fight" I say, because I'm sure it won't.
"Well. you might have a better chance of winning-" but I interrupt her, because I know I'm not going to win against anyone.
"I don't! I don't have any chance of winning, ok! None!" She is silenced by that, and I continue to dip a roll into a fancy drink called hot chocolate.