Hunger Games: Fandom Style

Train Rides (Part 2)

8
Leah's nose was on fire with the scent of the leech, and her skin prickled with the urge to change forms. All her instincts were screaming that there was a leech, right there, just a table's width away from her, and she needed to run, to change, to fight, to do whatever it took to survive the encounter.
She passed the rolls to the leech without comment.
At least the food was spectacular. She'd piled her plate high with everything she could get her hands on. It was time to answer the age old question: could a werewolf ever reach that mythical stat of "full"? If so, then tonight was going to be the night to achieve it.
Billy encouraged her. He'd lost the last of his children to the Games last year at around the same time she'd lost her father. In his own quiet way, he'd done his best to fill the gap in her family. He was enjoying the meal almost as much as she was. He hadn't transformed since the accident that had broken his back and killed his wife, but the wolf's appetite never really faded.
The leech, she noted smugly, wasn't having nearly as much fun. He was eating as little as possible, only choking down a few bites when the escort - what was her name again? - pressed him.
"Rolls?" Leah asked sweetly. "You should really try one."
He rolled his eyes at her but took the offered basket. The escort glared at her.
What did I - oh. Oh, come on! Don't tell me your flirting with him, lady! What, you think I'm competing with you or something? As if!
The woman was definitely flirting. The leech was obviously uncomfortable.
He's like ten times older than her! And a vampire! And married, if that meant anything to the Capital freaks.
He shot her a frustrated look. Help? he mouthed.
Right. He was a mind reader . Huh. This could be fun.
She sat back in her chair and started singing "I Know a Song That Gets on Everybody's Nerves" at the top of her mental lungs.

7
Zizi flitted around the room like an overgrown butterfly. "Eat! Eat! You need to get your strength up if you're going to stand a chance."
Halt gave her a look of such intense dislike Will was surprised he hadn't already gone for his throwing knife. He was fingering the one by his plate pretty meaningfully, though.
Cassandra was slumped in her chair, still pale and silent with disbelief that this was actually happening. Will stared out the window at the endless blur of green. He wanted to be out there in the trees. How far did the forest stretch? What would it be like to race Tug through it without ever having to turn around and come back?
He could almost see it. The old, run down cabin Halt had shown him restored to its former glory, Tug and Abelard in the back. He'd never leave the woods if it could be like that.
Well, maybe sometimes, he amended quickly, thinking of Alyss.
She'd come to see him in the time they allotted for goodbyes. He'd asked her to apologize to Horace for him. She'd said he would tell him himself. Then she'd given him a kiss for luck.
Gilan and Crowley had come later, but, Will reflected, it would have hard for anyone to beat Alyss for a goodbye.
He had not gotten to say goodbye to Tug. His smile faded. "What about Tug?"
Halt's eyebrows shot together into a formidable line. "What about Tug?"
"That's what I just asked," Will said with exaggerated patience, but his lips twitched. He remembered Horace once having a similar conversation with Halt.
Halt apparently did too, because he changed tactics quickly. "Gilan promised to look after him for now."
Will took 'now' to be the duration of the Games. "And after?"
"You will," Halt said firmly.
"But what if - "
Halt looked at him grimly. "You will," he repeated.
"What about me?" Cassandra asked quietly.
Zizi tsked impatiently. "He's a mentor. He won't play favorites, will you, Halt?"
Halt looked at her darkly for a moment. "With no hesitation and extreme prejudice." He strode out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
Zizi gasped. "Of all the nerve! Leaving a tribute to her own devices!"
Cassandra set her chin stubbornly. Adversity had brought some color back to her cheeks. "Like I would need his help anyways."
Will shook his head. "You'll need sponsors. I'll go talk to him. He's not thinking straight."
He caught up with Halt in the final train car. He was staring out the windows at the landscape that rushed away from them in a depressing blur of greens and grays.
"Did I ever tell you how your father died?"
Will approached him cautiously. "You said he was killed in an uprising against the Peacekeepers. You said he died like a hero."
Halt didn't look at him. He just kept staring out the window. "It was the third day of the riots. They were in Justice Plaza. I was leading a rush at them through a side alley. We were supposed to attack from behind while everyone else came at them from the front."
"Halt, maybe this isn't the best time - "
Halt didn't seem to hear him. "We caught them by surprise. I fought my way in. Knives aren't much good against boasters, but if you can get close . . . I never even saw the one that slipped behind me. I would have died right there if your father hadn't gotten him for me.
"We fought our way to a clear spot. Shook hands and introduced ourselves. His name was Daniel. We took a breather for a moment, then we threw ourselves back in."
Halt shook his head. "I can't even begin to describe what it was like. Everyone was shouting. There was blood everywhere. That frontal attack had never come. The Rangers were scattered. Some of us were shooting from the buildings, but they were being picked off one by one. Our ranks were devastated that day. I was right there in the thick of things when the Peacekeepers' reinforcements started pouring in. There was no fighting that many, but we kept trying.
"Then I fell and your father stepped in to defend me. He fought like a berserker. He took five more with him before he fell. He landed right on top of me. Probably saved my life again. I fell unconscious and was overlooked in the cleanup. They probably assumed I was dead too. When I finally woke up, I went looking. Found out he'd had a wife. Found out about you." He shook his head. "They'd bombed the district. Your whole street was rubble. Somehow you survived it. You were the only that had. This tiny little baby, screaming his lungs off in the ashes of his home."
"So you took me in to the Rangers," Will said quietly.
Half a smile appeared on Halt's lips. "Best decision I ever made. You're the best to come through in years. You saved my life last year when those monsters came in from the forest." The rest of - that for all intents and purposes Will was the son Halt had never had - hung unspoken between them. Both knew it without it needing to be said.
"I'm not going to lose you, Will," Halt said quietly. "No matter what I have to do." Snow knew it too. Will was the only leverage the president had ever been able to find to use against him. Halt had done as he'd been told. He'd behaved. There had been no more riots in District 7.
"So you're just going to throw Cassandra to the dogs then?"
Halt finally looked at him. "I can only get one of you out alive. You know that. I'm making it my business to make sure it's you."
Will's face was pale with anger. "Guess I'll have to make it mine that Cassandra does then. Somebody has to." He stalked out of the train car.
Halt watched him go, heart aching. He'd been so careful. He'd kept to himself for years and kept what few friendships he had intensely private. He hadn't proposed to Pauline, putting her safety over his heart. He had been careful, but Snow had found his weakness all the same. And now he had broken their deal.
There hadn't been riots in District 7 for fifteen years. If Will didn't make it out of the Games alive, then it might be time to break that streak.