𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 → 𝗁𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 ¹

𝑶𝟑. 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇

     everything goes really fast to our boarding in the train.

     after the mayor's speech, they pass panem's anthem then we are taken into the justice building. willow refuse to leave me and finally i carry her in my arms. she always has been small and puny, but the fear makes her even more childish than usual.

     the hour we have to say our goodbyes is turned into fifteen minutes when they realized no one come for us, and finally they take us out of the luxury living room where the peacekeepers put us first. i force willow to walk but she won't let go of my hand. her tears have dried up and she doesn't say any word ; since the cameras are back, i walk head high and force a sufficient air onto my face. my teachers always said i am the arrogance personified, so it should not be that difficult.

     we are put into a car where fausta hammond was waiting for us. almost immediately, she begins to speak, congratulates us for our reaping and for the show we made today. she is beyond pleasure to have been our district's escort this year, beyond pleasure to have witnessed such a sweet, sweet moment.

     in the streets, the people of the seven, back to their occupations, look at our car when it pass, and fausta continues to speak. willow crushes my hand with her tiny fingers, and i'm trying to reassure her as i can. i take advantage from the absence of cameras to whisper calming words to her ear, to hold her against me.

     then, we arrive at the main and only station of the district, so i put back on my mask of fake confidence. i know i'm watched, and even if i'll be in the arena only in a few days, the games already have began.

     not a surprise, the train is a demonstration of luxury and technology ; it leaves at the instant the door closes behind us. willow is speechless, almost amazed, and i try to get used to the train's speed, which is way more than what i already experienced.

     fausta leads us to what would be called a living room but is twice as large as our entire house back in the seven. there are already seated, in big camel velvet armchairs, the victors who are now our mentors. they were talking, but become quiet when they see us. the first one, and the youngest, is blight farbain. he's not even twenty-five and he won the fifty-sixth edition of the hunger games when he was only fifteen. he's got a red-haired beard and smart-shining dark eyes. the second one is phox ogilbee. he won back at the twenty-fifth edition, the very first quarter quell during which the people were forced to elect themselves the tributes, about forty years ago. between him and blight, only another boy from our district won the games - but since then, he died from an overdose. they say he was on drugs to deal with the awfulness of the nightmares.