Vain. Vicious. Venomous. (CATO HADLEY)

THREE

In a moment of temporary helpfulness, Leeme advised, "don't let them see you crack. Stand with your back straight when we arrive."

Maven thought that the mentor's words seemed to be more directed to herself than to her tributes.

Everyone was in various states of finishing up breakfast. Draze was staring into a fruit bowl and Leeme was sipping on some alcoholic drink.

Meanwhile, Maven was pacing the room. She was getting antsy. It didn't help that Crinoline had given her some drink that she "swore by". It made her heart beat faster, but Maven loved it. If she won, her house would be filled with espresso.

The cause of her anxiety, excluding the obvious factor of her potential violent death, was her "mentor". Excluding Leeme's latest comment, the woman refused to discuss strategy.

Maven had even tried to ask the most innocent of questions. Leeme did not budge.

The victor loathed her involvement in the Games. Maven suspected that Leeme preferred the deaths of her own tributes, rather than risk feeling responsible when they killed.

It was selfish.

It also meant that Maven had nothing to learn aboard the train. No, any help that she hoped to receive would have to be directly from the Capitol.

The room suddenly darkened, as the train pulled into a tunnel.

"Is this the Capitol?" Maven asked as she looked out the window.

"It is," Leeme hummed in confirmation. She acted solemn. Almost as if she were the one preparing for battle.

"Shouldn't we go say hi?" She questioned. "Wave to the people?"

Draze interrupted her, "oh there is no chance that I am waving to those sadists."

"Fine then. Die in the arena, but I would like to live and those sadists will pay my way through."

Crinoline stood up from the couch. "Come along," she pulled Maven with her, "I want to show you something."

Confused, but wanting an escape, Maven immediately followed her.

The woman led her through different compartments, towards the back of the train.

Maven looked at Crinoline with a questioning gaze, as they walked.

"When I was a girl, I used to play a board game with my friends," Crinoline paused. "Do they have board games in the districts?"

"I know what they are." Maven replied. She had never played one before, but she had seen some of the wealthier children playing.

Crinoline nodded, "well, you had to pick a figure to be in the game. Each persona had their own name, look, and skills."

Maven wondered where this was heading.

"Every time we played, we would all fight over who got to be this one character. She didn't have the best name or the most skills. But she wore this pretty green dress, you see." Crinoline clasped Maven's hand tighter.

Crinoline was looking for Maven to understand, to have this big revelation. The trouble was that Maven had no clue what the answer was. "The games aren't about skill?"

Crinoline nodded, "they aren't. It is true that the tributes who become victors are some of the most skilled-"

"But that isn't why they win?" Maven probed, interrupting her..

"No it isn't."

The two came to a stop. They stood at the very end of the train.

Maven looked at the woman facing her, "you seem to have a lot of thoughts about the games."