Whispers from the Woods: A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter III: The Train

From the moment I step foot on the train, the sweet scent of a multitude of perfumes and feasts fills me with excitement. Not for the games, of course, but for eating some of this food – the last meal I had was lunch yesterday. I immediately run over to a mahogany table with a soft, white, linen cloth blanketed over it, which is lined with an assortment of iced cakes and biscuits. "People in the Capitol are eating like royalty while us in the districts are starving to death? I feel sick," Ackley remarks as he walks off to another carriage. I know there'll be repercussions for him but I carry on stroking the soft, blue velvet on the perfectly crafted chairs. In District 7, even seeing something of this regal colour is unheard of, let alone this material.

"Come now, everyone!" Saturn enthuses in his ridiculous Capitol accent, beaming like sunshine. He used to be an escort in 12 and this is his second year with our district, so I imagine he's happy to have been upgraded to tributes who can actually wield weapons. "I can imagine you're confused, and I was too until I had my briefing, but this year there shall be eleven Hunger Games!" After repeating word-for-word what was said at the reaping, the eccentric man addresses the issue of there being a ten year-old among us. "There was a... confusion." He says softly, trying to make his explanation seem as genuine and believable as possible. "I tried to plead with them, but they said it was too late." He was hiding something – it wasn't hard to tell.

After that useless lecture, I stroll down the train to look for Ackley. Eventually I find him sat in the final carriage, by the gorgeous window that spans the whole rear of the train. "Hey," he says.

"Hi," I respond with as much of a smile as I can manage.

"Did I miss much?" He asks, signalling for me to sit down.

"No. Quite honestly, I think we missed more by staying there. This place is beautiful!"

"It is," he whispers, deep in thought. Suddenly a blonde girl – Ochre – barges through the door. She says nothing as she plonks herself down on the seat, obviously annoyed by someone, which I can't be dealing with right now. "I'll go then," I mutter as I leave.

Everyone spreads around our home for the next few hours, claiming rooms, food and showers. Since I am too busy stuffing my face with chocolate strawberries and cupcakes to claim the best room before anyone else, I end up in the smallest room: a snug little chamber with a bed in the corner and a wardrobe delicately places next to it.. Contrasting drastically from home, it's so lovely to finally be able to sit on a soft, comfy bed rather than a pile of leaves designed for animals. The cotton sheets are brand new, and the pillows are perfectly fluffed like clouds. A maroon blanket placed over the top is so soft that I can't help hugging it close; it reminds me of a throw I had when I was a young child, before we had every last one of our belongings stripped from us.

There's a whole set of new clothes waiting for us in the first carriage. Because there are fourteen of us this time, there are fourteen piles, each labelled with our names. "Take them and get changed everyone!" Saturn calls, clapping his hands with excitement. I grab my clothes and disappear back to my room, before anyone else starts kicking off or attempting trades.

There's a hot pink top with white jeans, which I toss to the side immediately. The material of the top makes me cringe, and I can't imagine having it rub against my skin. Everything looks horrendous, so I throw on a pale, pastel green halter neck dress which was already in my wardrobe. I struggle to tie the thin strings behind my neck, but after a while of fiddling I manage it. The material is soft and tickles against my torso. It gives me a sense of comfort, which is hard to find when you're on your way to be murdered.

Because of District 7's location, we only get to have one meal on the train, which I have to battle to stay in my stomach because of how much I ate earlier. There are lamb chops sprinkled with a ton of herbs, along with a multitude of other cuisines: pink ham, which smells much too salty for my liking; a range of soups with the most odd names, like Coin's Classy Cream of Carrot; and a million other receptacles filled with treats I can't even name. I choose the lamb chops because I've never had lamb before. When I feel the tender meat reach my lips, it gives me a warm feeling, like there's still hope. Although I'm sure there's not.

For the last few hours of the journey, I mainly keep to myself in my own room. I decide to take a shower since I don't want my stylists' job to be too hard, and I also feel disgusting after the ordeals of the day. The boiling water burns as it splashed against my skin, but it's the cleanest I've felt in a long time. As the water trickles down my skin, I notice some shampoo on a shelf next to the shower head. I lather the rich, creamy substance into my scalp and it's like having my very own massage; it also makes my hair splendidly soft and silky. There's a soft towel sat by my bed, so I grab it and sit down, my head in my knees, with the towel wrapped around me like a coat.

When I'm dry again, I change into a soft, yellow, fleecy jumper and some dark blue jeans, and lie in my soft, snug berth for the remainder of the journey - feeling slightly sick because of how greedy I've been.