Carla gazed out of the train window, marvelling at how quickly the barren landscape of District 12 sped past outside, as she took a final look at the place that had been her home for 18 years. She could just about make out the tiny roofs of small, distant houses over the horizon, before being replaced by a vast expanse of forest. She had never been on a train before; least of all one this luxurious. She was sure that the carriage they sat in now was bigger than their entire house.
"I never thought I'd get to see what was beyond the walls of District 12..." She thought aloud, transfixed by the landscape speeding past on the other side of the glass.
"Just a shame it's not in better circumstances." Rob stated, also watching the window intently.
Carla nodded, absentmindedly.
Growing up, she'd often wondered how different her life could have been if she hadn't been born to an absent father and an alcoholic mother in the pits of District 12. Perhaps she wouldn't have had to grow up so fast: to learn about the horrors of the real world at such a young age. Perhaps she would have been more hesitant to volunteer for the Hunger Games, if she'd thought there was anything about her life worth living for.
It hadn't always been like this. Before their dad left, things had been different. Being only four years old at the time, Carla had only one distinct memory; which she treasured more than any other.
She remembered her father holding her tiny hand in his, rough and calloused against her unblemished skin, as they wandered through the meadow of District 12: her mother walking only feet behind, a picnic basket in one hand, Rob sat on her hip, supported by the other.
She remembered her father swinging her through the air, laughing as her face contorted into giggles every time he raised her over his head. She remembered how gently he spoke to her, pointing out each flower in the meadow: explaining its name and what it could be used for; being sure to point out that no flower was as pretty as the girl in his arms.
But most of all, she remembered being happy. A feeling that she hadn't felt since, or thought she ever would again. And yet, she could still remember exactly how it felt to be curled up in his strong arms: safe and content.
Ironically, it was this, the happiest memory she had, that always led to the worst: the one moment in her life she wished she could forget.
She stirred in the middle of the night, on that same wonderful day, to the sound of shouting from the family room. Perhaps it was a case of her being half asleep, but these unfamiliar noises didn't frighten her. She lay still in her bed, with Rob asleep on the opposite side of the room, trying to make out the conversation. In all her concentration, she couldn't hear a word, and instead promptly fell back to sleep.
By the time she awoke the next morning, he had gone.
He never even said goodbye.
"You okay?" Rob asked, quietly, upon noticing the scowl set across his sister's face. She startled, shaking the memory away, focussing her attention on her concerned brother. She offered him a smile.
He couldn't remember their father. Perhaps that was for the best.
"I'm fine." She said, settling for the easiest answer she could give. "Are you?"
"Yeah, alright. You know, considering." He nodded. Carla sighed.
The sound of the carriage door sliding open drew both of their attention. A weary looking Roy stepped over the threshold, followed by Sally Webster: their favourite person to mock. Carla heard Rob snort, and quickly kicked him, trying desperately to keep a straight face herself.
Roy stopped a few inches away from where Carla and Rob were sat, his lips pressed together, eyes cast nervously towards the ground. Sally, in contrast, strutted towards the pair, perching in the empty seat next to Rob, a wide smile plastered across her face.
"Well, wasn't that exciting!" She chirped, her gaze switching between the two of them. Carla felt bile rising in her throat.
"I would say it were more of a tragedy." Roy began, inching past Sally and settling down in the seat next to Carla. "A necessity of the unfortunate circumstances. But incredibly brave, nonetheless." He nodded to himself, his eye-line directed past Carla and out of the window. She found herself staring at him intently. No one had ever called her brave before. She certainly didn't feel it.
"Yes, well... Roy and I are here to oversee your journey to the Games. Ensure you get the necessary training and guidance." Sally explained, enthusiastically.
"Right. So what do we do?" Rob asked, his gaze falling upon Roy. "Once we're in there, what do we do?"
Three pairs of eyes were intently set upon Roy, whose own were still focussed on the passing trees. After a few moments, he came up with an answer.
"Well, that would all depend." He said, vaguely. Rob sighed.
"On what?" He pushed, somewhat frustrated. Carla shot him a look.
"On your current abilities. How favourable your survival skills are. Of course, you will be given the opportunity to improve them, although it is always encouraged to persist with that which you are already familiar."
"So?"
"He wants to know what we're good at, Rob." Carla pointed out. A small smile crossed Roy's lips. It was unusual for the teenagers he mentored to understand his way of explaining things straight away.
"Oh right, well..." Rob thought for a moment.
"We've had our fair share of fist fights." Carla suggested. Rob nodded eagerly, seeking approval from his new mentor. Roy sighed.
"I'm not sure that level of violence will suffice." He stated. "Have you ever brandished a weapon?"
The two of them shook their heads. Roy nodded, understandingly.
"That is probably for the best. We will have to proceed with my own preferred tactics. You both seem like bright young people to me."
Carla gave Rob a side eyed glance, as Roy continued.
"I usually encourage tributes to run as far away from the initial bloodbath as possible. Everything you will need to survive can be found elsewhere in the arena. There is no need to risk your lives at the earliest stage of the competition."
"No offence, Roy, but that's never worked in the past, has it?" Rob voiced the concern he and Carla shared. She noticed a pained expression flash across Roy's face. He cleared his throat.
"Yes, you may be right there. But it's clear the two of you have something that no tributes before you ever did."
"And what's that?" Carla pushed.
"A desperate wish for the other to survive."
