Sentimental Heart

I stare straight out of the train's window as we speed down the railway. The train is long and silver, like a bullet. The Capitol's person bullet, shooting it's victims through the Districts and directly to their demise in the arena. I sigh as I take notice of the scenery. It's pretty at least. The rolling hills and pastures of district stretch out for miles. Home stretches out for miles.

"It'll be alright," Prilla whispers to herself. I shoot her a glance. Her hair is a pale, silvery blond that hangs well past her shoulders, her bangs hang in a slant over her forhead but are pinned to the left side of her head. She keeps her head down, staring into her lap, her hair hair hanging down around her face like curtains. Her hands are gripping the bottom of her seat, next to mine, and her legs are pressed firmly together.

Suddenly she looks up, looks at me. For a moment she just looks at me expectantly, her soft green eyes twinkling. I wish I could say something to the poor girl but nothing corsses my lips. Prilla is a year or two younger than me, so I never really had the privilage of knowing her. From what I do know, she's very well liked back home and has many friends. That could get her sponsors, keeping her alive in the Games.

I bite my tongue. She can't get sponsored. She can't win the Games, she can't live through the torture of the arena. I have to, not her. Finally I settle on murmuring, "I hate trains."

A soft sound of dismay leaves her throat but she returns to looking down at her lap and I resume my gaze out of the window. The hills are flattening out into crop fields. We've entered Distric Nine now. I curse silently. She made me miss seeing the last of my homeland.

The door on the end of our cart and three people file in one by one, first Somer, followed by a man and a woman who look vaguely familiar. The man is older, mid thirties. He has short sand-blond hair and lengthy sideburns that forms a small beard. His black suit jacket and slacks highlight his golden skin. The woman had soft auburn hair and her face had soft wrinkles from years of worry and patience. She couldn't be any older than forty, however. A slim green dress hung beautifully on her frame and matched her eyes.

"Evander," says the man, taking a seat right across for me. I shift a little, lining our bodies up perfectly. He has hard blue eyes which stare me down as if they are daggers. "I'm Aldaw and I'll be your mentor."

"And I'm Bayless," says the woman as she sits in front of Prilla. The girl, however, does not look up.

"Well, we can get more aquianted over dinner," Somer interjects with a perkiness to her voice that just seems to radiate phoniness. "Shall we head over to the dining cart?"

No one gives her an answer, but we end up standing and following her out, most reluctantly Prilla. I can't help but feel that her attitude is my fault. She had been seeking comfort or reassurance in me and I had failed to present her with it. Not even to our training center and she's given up hope.

The dining cart seems to catch both our attentions, however. A large table strecthes out over the length of the train car, an elaborate white table cloth hoisting various delectiables. There's soups, chickens, turkeys, berries, fruits, vegstables, seafood, and deserts all along the table as well bottles of wines, juices, and ciders. Food back home wasn't exactly scarce, but it was nothing like this. We ate what we could farm or buy in shops, but this is just above and beyond all. Forgetting our manners, Prilla and I sit down and immeadiately start gathering food onto our plates.

The three adults followed suit, Aldaw sitting next to me, Bayless next to Prilla, and Somer at the head of the table. She narrowed her eyes, but the smile on her face was genuine. "Look at you two! A beautiful young lass and a strapping young man! The Capitol is just going to eat you two up!"

I grimmaced at the words. Does she not notice teh underlying meaning to her words? That our attractiveness will allow us to make headway in the Games while others fall behind and die?

"Not only that, but I think that these two tributes have a lot of potiential. District Ten might win it's first Games in a decade." Aldaw nodded and started to grab for the bottle of wine but Bayless shoots him a look and his hand darts for the cider. She smiles proudly.

"Should we talk strategies then?" Bayless asks. I shrug and take a large bite out of my chicken breast. Prilla just hangs her head, putting a spoonful of soup down her throat. The female mentor's eyes just glide over the girl and blink softly. Aldaw and Sommer do the same, but it's me who vocalize what they're all thinking.

"Perhaps we should save strategies for tomorrow morning? We'll have time to discuss it over breakfast, before we arrive in the Capitol."

Sommer smiles, "That's a great idea, Estander!"

"Evander," I correct her but she just shrugs.

"Now, eat up and get some rest. We have a big couple of days ahead of us."

Ain't that the truth, I think bitterly.