❝𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒❞ | k. everdeen

chapter 3: knowing the enemy.

—I volunteer as tribute! —Nola's hand shot up through the crowd of female Victors as the voice of the Capitol's District 2 escort, Polly, announced that Enobaria had been chosen to participate in the Vassalage of the Twenty-Five.

The one who had been her mentor clenched her jaw tightly in anger, as well as her fists, digging her nails into her palm, in an attempt to conceal the rage she felt at the fact that Nola had done just the opposite of what she had promised her a week earlier. Yes, Enobaria didn't want to go back to the arena, that was a fact: but she also didn't like the idea of sending her friend and trainee to certain death.

—You know the rules, Enobaria: if someone shows up for you, you're automatically out. I'm sorry, I know you must have been really looking forward to it— Polly tapped her on the shoulder to encourage her, unaware that, deep down, Enobaria was very grateful for Nola's decision.

The blonde girl stood next to Brutus on the stage, who had also volunteered, and narrowed his eyes a little as he saw that his attempt to attract attention had been overshadowed by the spontaneity of a nineteen-year-old girl. Brutus watched her for a few moments longer, knowing of the friendship between Enobaria and the young woman, and while he admired the decision to save the thirty-year-old's life, he couldn't help but think that there was something deeper in Nola that he couldn't see, and he didn't like that at all.

—So, that leaves the election of our District 2 tributes! Brutus and Nola, winners from previous years, will be your representatives. Their fortune will be your fortune— the square burst into applause for the two tributes, hoping that they would bring them as much glory as they did in their Games, although a double intention could be seen behind their applause: they were also applauding the bravery of an almost teenager for facing the deadliest Games in history.

Several peacekeepers quickly escorted them to the train, in a brusque manner they had never done before. Brutus grumbled under his breath that he could walk alone, and Nola shook off the agent's grip as best she could. It was then that she began to be aware of what she had done, for the only time she had been escorted like this was when she had been chosen in the Games three years before, and also that the Capitol had equipped the District with more peacekeepers, fearful that uprisings from other Districts would spread to this one.

Nola plopped down on the comfortable seat of the train, looking around and wondering why the hell she wasn't sitting on her couch. Fate had thrown the cards in her favor, sparing her from certain death, and it had been her own desire that had raised her hand to volunteer for this slaughterhouse. She frowned as she remembered that she had left her bottle of champagne on the dining room table, waiting for her next to a Capitol crystal glass, the television set to watch the reapings of the other Districts, and right now what was in front of her was very different from what she had had in her mind.

There were no goodbyes this year, but even if there were, Nola wouldn't have had anyone knocking on her door. Maybe Enobaria, but she thought she would probably be so angry with her that she wouldn't even want to say goodbye. There would have been no one else who would really have been saddened that fate —or Snow, rather— had decided that Nola Bernacci should return to the Hunger Games.

The doors opened again, and this time they all appeared together, so Nola wondered where they had been and what they had been doing as to not call her to their meeting. Polly talked to the train attendants about getting their food served as soon as possible, since District 2 was one of the closest to the Capitol, and they would probably arrive in a few hours, much less than it would take other Districts. Brutus sat calmly in an armchair next to Nola's couch, turning on the TV with disinterest but trying to keep himself occupied. Nola looked at him and wondered why he volunteered.