THE HUNGER GAMES: the taste of Whiskey and Snow // CORIOLANUS SNOW

Three

Ratley grabbed her hand. Usually she would've been excited except under these circumstances nothing seemed exciting anymore.

Her first thought amongst the screaming in her head was how dry her mouth was. It felt like she had eaten concrete. It felt so dry she felt like she was suffocating on it. Or was she? She couldn't tell anything anymore. Ratley was trying to tell her something. His hands were now around her face, holding her still. But, In a bizarre she stepped back and let his touch fall out of reach. He looked concerned. Why was everyone so concerned? She was going to be fine.

Whiskey somewhat unsteadily made her way through the crowd. Unwillingly she caught the eye of her auntie, standing by the edge. Her face was stern, like always. If the crow could speak Whiskey knew she would've reminded her about her posture and about chewing with her mouth closed when she reached the capital.  But then, for a second, Gree almost looked sad, almost. Her dead sisters daughter was finally following her footsteps.

"Well look at you," the woman judged as Whiskey reached the stage. "You're a wild looking one."

But Whiskey didn't reply. Her eye was on the other glass bowl. Which boy was going to be dead with her?

Finally she got her answer.

The woman cleared her throat, "Ratley Reid."

Standing on the stage, Whiskey watched the colour drain from her lover boys face. The odds seemed wildly unfair. The chances of them both being selected seemed as thought either one had accidentally annoyed someone in power. It seemed impossible, yet here it was.

All the other district 12 boys mourned with their own selfish relief. Him not me. Him not me.

Ratley's mother cried out from the edge, the single voice caring, but was stopped by a soldier cocking his gun.

Whiskey knew the lady. They'd spoken once or twice. She was a calm serious person, except for when her son was selected to be slaughtered. Usually she held the respect of all those around her. Now all she had was pity. Him not me.

By the time Ratley joined Whiskey's side, she was beyond feeling emotions, but overtop the silent noise, she managed a strangled thought. 'Who would die first?'

"I'm glad I'm finally going to make it to the capital before my death," Ratley whispered, cutting through her thought. His voice cracked, which scared Whiskey.

"Happy hunger games. And May the odds be ever in your favour."

-

They were allowed one visiter before they departed in the container truck to the capital, which was surprising. Usually they treated the tributes likes animals, not allowing them to say goodbye before they died. But then again, even dogs roamed in packs. Even dogs cared about other dogs. And District 12 was no better than dogs.

Because Whiskey had no one she wanted to see and Ratley couldn't face his mum, Jimmy came in before they left.

"Hey..." he whispered when he walked in. Whiskey immediate thought this was a bad idea, but kept silent for Jimmy's sake. He had the right to say goodbye to his two only friends.

The knowledge that they were going to die hung in the air like oxygen. Nobody spoke because nobody knew what to say. The three friends just stared at each other, quietly saying goodbye without words.

Then, after barely two minutes, the woman came barging back in. "Chop chop, we have to go. We have a truck to catch. Well not me, you. You two have a train to catch, then a truck."

Ratley stood and left without saying goodbye, Whiskey went to do the same when Jimmy suddenly grabbed her and with tears in his eyes cried, "Please one of you come back."

A guard behind Whiskey grunted impatiently. Whiskey looked Jimmy dead in the eye and replied, "You know we won't."

She blocked out his loud crying on the way out.

-

Whiskey sat in silence across from Ratley in the pitch black train cart. She could occasionally hear him snoring. The journey was a couple days but whiskey refused to sleep. Unlike Ratley, she had no reason to be energised. She wasn't going to be walking around the capital. She couldn't care less. She was just loaded up to die in that circle arena.

Mentally accepting death was something she hadn't been able to process properly yet. Whiskey discovered it was layered. At first she was upset, then she was angry and now she felt numb. She couldn't help but think of all the places she'd never see again. All the food she'd never eat. It was upsetting in a way she knew was inevitable. The numbness came from the lack of control she had over the whole situation. It was inevitable. She was just counting the days and she had nothing she could do about it. It was destructive.

Suddenly, the cart screeched to a stop and a stream of light blinded her dark numb eyes. Guards banged on the doors with their big guns and Ratley flinched awake. Slowly he got to his feet. "Stop two," he sighed and dragged his feet out of the cart.

For a moment, sitting in the cart alone, Whiskey considered trying to escape. But not for long because a guard reached into the cart and grabbed the front of her clothing, yanking her out. Her knees connected with the concrete as she landed but before she could cry out in pain, the guard tossed her onto the ground and moved to the next cart.

Whiskey brushed off her knees, trying to regain her humanity, when she noticed a boy watching her. She immediately recognised his clothing from the capital with red jacket and fancy shoes. It was strange he was here now, with her.

Suddenly, he started approaching her, but before he could call her a wild animal, Whiskey darted towards the other truck.

"Whiskey Everdeen?" He called out.

She slowed to a stop and turned around. "How do you know my name?" Facing him now she noticed how blue his eyes were, like ice. Her father would've loved to paint them.

"I'm your mentor, Coriolanus Snow."