Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
MIZZEN STUCK BY HESTIA'S SIDE THROUGHOUT THE JOURNEY TO THE CAPITOL. When boarding the train he awkwardly lingered about, unsure until Hestia calmly told him to take a seat next to her.
The train only had six others on it— the tributes from One, Two, and Three. The six offered their names and Districts, Hestia nodding along without much care. They wouldn't be her friends, and perhaps one would be her killer.
"I'm Mizzen," her partner responded, gazing up at her. She stared boredly at her knees, which were pulled tightly to her chest, and gave no indication she would supply her name. "That's Hestia, she's quiet."
The cart lapsed back into a silence as it continued towards District Five, Hestia shutting her eyes to avoid conversation. She spoke a couple words here and there to Mizzen, who had numerous questions about Pearling.
"You ever find a dead body?"
Hestia snapped her eyes open, turning to find Mizzen's wide eyes. "What?" The train was coming to a stop in District Five, the cart quieting as the engine slowed.
"I heard that people used to dump bodies in the water so they wouldn't be found," Mizzen shrugged.
Hestia shook her head, recentering her head and shutting her eyes, "No, never found a body."
"That's boring." Hestia merely hummed in agreement, two sets of footsteps indicating more tributes. Mizzen introduced Hestia and himself, though she didn't much listen to the names of their new companions.
The ride to Six was long, the district lying Northeast in relation to District Five. The cart filled with growling stomachs and moans of hunger. I should've snuck some food in my pockets, Hestia chastised herself, just in case I got picked. It would be worse for the others, they didn't have the same income as Hestia, food might be scarce as is.
The train only reached District Eight when day turned to night, the cart plunging into complete darkness. Some slept, if they could. A few years back a boy from Six strangled two other tributes while they slept, leaving only twenty-two tributes to be put out into the arena. The story was well known, and Hestia couldn't bring herself to shut her eyes with the intent to sleep.
Mizzen had no problem doing so— he might've been too young to hear about the boy from Six when it happened. The boy's head fell on Hestia's shoulder, who glanced awkwardly at his outline, debating readjusting. She wasn't fond of being touched, but the boy was asleep, perhaps for one of the last times in his life, so she let him, eventually drifting off herself.
When she woke up, they completed the journey to Nine and Ten. Only two left. Mizzen gave up on getting Hestia to speak, instead making some small talk with the boy from Eight, Bobbin.
She was glad when they got Eleven and Twelve's tributes, her stomach was killing her, the anticipation of what was to come even worse. Would they be dumped into the arena right away? She had once heard when Burdock won his games that those tributes were kept in horse stables for a couple of hours before entering the arena.
